[centre][h1]The An-Clastophon[/h1]
[color=gray]“You have a right to perform your prescribed duties, but you are not entitled to the fruits of your actions.”[/color]
[/centre]
[hr]
Hursimolit the Great, they had called him, for great, he had been. Throughout his whole life of sixty-seven years, he had given his all to unite the disparate peoples of what had once been home long, long ago. At first, he had fought off bandits and brigands alongside his brothers back when there was only him and his clan; then he had taken a wife from a rival clan, uniting all under a greater purpose of survival. More clans had joined their following with time, and now only some months ago, the world had begun to green once again as though by magic. Throughout his life, Hursimolit’s actions had amassed a clan of almost a hundred individuals, with hundreds more being affiliated with him and his kinsmen. Now, all had come from near and far to pay respect for the fallen lord of lords. His people had taken the corpse, wrapped in the finest cloth they had scavenged over the years, to an ancient black cave which would serve as a tomb. A thousand people had gathered to oversee the burial, and no less than fifty people, both men and women, had asked to be allowed to say some words in his honour. A train of grieving adults and children alike, longer than had been witnessed in these parts of decades, offered their finest gifts to the deceased - weapons, heirlooms, food, clothes, animals, charms - there was no end.

When all was said and done, though, came the question: how would they preserve these gifts so Hursimolit could use them in the afterlife? Would they not all disappear from him if there came graverobbers?

“We cannot stay here, either - not all of us, anyway,” said Gilumina, chieftain of the clan Jusu.

“We, we could always rotate the responsibility? These lands could support one of us at the time, right?” said Vimaru, chieftess of the Colinadasam clan. 

Zim-Piatt of the Crimson Dogs shook his head. “Clans Jusu, Gao-Gao, Colinadasam and the tribes of Kipu-Kil and Grass Bulls would uphold a vow like this; the Fimdalri and Aguz-Ag, on the other hands…”

“Are you trying to start something, huh, Red Mutt?!” spat Saur of Fimdalri. Habsu, chieftess of Azug-Ag, palmed the hilt of her spear.

“I am not starting anything - I am simply stating the truth.” As arguments broke out, the original advocates for protection of the tomb tried to calm the clan leaders, though with little luck. However, one voice then suddenly broke through - it was a ragged man, weary with trauma and white of hair. The others knew him as One-Boot Lou - had recently founded his own clan called the Cackling Rats. He had shouted, and his words had made all go quiet:

“What if we called upon the Storm-Trod?!”

The others looked at one another skeptically. “The Storm-Trod?”

“Aye,” he said and looked around maniacally. “Months ago, our shelter got caught in a storm, worst one I’ve seen. Then, then this, this guy - think his name was… Anyway, so he climbed out of the shelter and just--”

“Oh, here we go again - Looney Lou and his rambles!” came a sarcastic remark.

“No, you don’t understand! He just up and walked out of the shelter and kept walking! Saw it with my own eyes as the wind blew the flesh off his bones! What the hell kinda person would do that?!”

“Point being?” It was clear no one believed him. Lou kept it up, however:

“The Storm-Trod can help us! A man like that might know the, the magic we need to keep this tomb safe forever!”

There was momentary silence. Some snickers blurted out somewhere in the crowd. When the snickers became open laughter, Zim-Piatt rolled his eyes and went over to Lou and patted his shoulder condescendingly. “Look, Lou, you clearly haven’t slept right lately. How about you head on back to your tent and take a nice nap, hmm?”

Lou pushed him away and shouted, “No! He will help us! He will! Storm-Trod! Come to us in our time of need! Storm-Trod!”

“Ugh, just shut him up!” came a shout from the crowd again.

The torches scattered about the cave suddenly snuffed out as one, the cave plunging into a desperate pitch black. From the entrance, four eyes lit the darkness, pitiless and snakelike in appearance; they blocked the only way out of the cave, as a voice rumbled through the caves, bitter in tone, [color=b2c7df]“Blaspheme the Storm-Trod with only a heavy heart. Costs light to betters are ruinous to roaches.”[/color]

The crowd squealed as one and the songs of drawn steel and percussions of knocking wood sounded from the frightened clansfolk. Only Lou was reluctant to draw any weapons, for he had caught the words spoken by the creature. Pushing himself past Zim-Piatt and the others, he sailed across the flat stone floor on his knees and ended up before the creature. “You know the Storm-Trod?!”

The four eyes in the dark focused on Lou, a hiss piercing the clatter of steel on scabbard. The voice rumbled once more, [color=b2c7df]“The Storm-Trod concerns themselves with pursuits far greater than roaches scurrying in the dark. The work falls upon me,”[/color] the voice paused, the eyes gazing down the cave as though they could see the people in the pitch black, and then once more the bitter rumble, [color=b2c7df]“I have a great many tasks of import beyond your petty lives. You dare drag me from them with your blaspheme?”[/color]

“Please,” begged the man and lifted two hands up in submission. The rest seemed stunned that this had even happened. “It, it is our master, Hursimolit the Great - he lies buried in this cave, but we need to keep his tomb unscathed so, so he may enjoy our gifts in the afterlife unmolested! I, I remember seeing the Storm-Trod’s miracle in the storm - it, it was my hope he could help us with this.”

The eyes in the dark narrowed, unmasked rage intoned within the voice, [color=b2c7df]“You distract your betters for matters as small as the tombs of roaches?”[/color] Another hiss, chilling the bones of the men gathered in the cave. Then, another pause, before the voice spoke again, the worst of the rage subsided, [color=b2c7df]“I can do this, in the name of my master the Storm-Trod, but a lesson must be taught. The price will not be worth the result. It is too late to back out, now.”[/color]

“Y-yes, u-unders--”

“LOU! You bastard! What’re you doing?!” came a thunderous yell in the darkness. More followed, and movement in the darkness was followed by screams, thumbs and squeals as people fell over one another in the pitch black came. The ear-curdling sound of steel cutting flesh could also be heard, which sent the crowd into a panic. Lou’s breathing quicked.

“What must be done?! What must be done to protect the lord?!”

A great light emerged from the four eyes, shining blindingly down upon the crowd -- the An-Clastophon remained obscured, but the cave around the crowd shone as though a mid-day sun could pierce the veil of earth. The voice’s intensity grew in equal parts with its volume, as rage once more reared its head, [color=b2c7df]“The dead cannot honor the Storm-Trod! Throw your swords upon the ground or I shall pluck your souls from your bodies, and meet upon them an eternity of suffering! Obey, or the afterlife you commend your king upon shall be forever denied to you!”[/color]

The cacophony of steel and wood smashed against the ground, though the yelling did not subside. “LOU, YOU’RE A DEAD MAN!” came a threat in the voice of Zim-Piatt, pushing his way up from the ground as two others on top of him tried to do as well. The dying coughs of a woman could be heard elsewhere, backed up by crying and gasping. Many others laid on the ground clutching wounds and others still rubbed their eyes free of blindness, though it took a while. Lou, too, could not seem to regain his sight for a long time.

The voice grew into an all-encompassing roar, the light growing ever-brighter as the An-Clastophon’s rage grew palpable in the air, [color=b2c7df]“You will be silent in the face of your betters! When the divine speak, it is the roaches who listen! You will honor my presence properly, you will give me the respect that is due, or I will extract that respect through your anguish!”[/color]

Quivering before the display of divine power, the crowd was quiet. Even Zim-Piatt couldn’t bring himself to fight back against this blinding storm of light.

The light dimmed to more manageable levels as the voice’s tone softened. The roar meted out, and the An-Clastophon commanded, [color=b2c7df]“I will provide you with the means to defend this tomb, for the Storm-Trod is merciful and I must obey my master’s dictates.”[/color] The voice stopped, briefly replaced only by the sound of breathing.

Then, the voice lightened further, [color=b2c7df]“It will come with a price. You have incurred a debt with those infinitely your better that you will never be able to repay. When I leave, I shall leave with the firstborn child of all present. I shall not extract further from you, if you honor the Storm-Trod above all. Through the worship of the Storm-Trod, the fat will be cut from the lean and you will all be better for it.”[/color]

“Our-- WHAT?!” came a shout. Even Lou now seemed skeptical. Zim-Piatt picked up his spear from the floor and assumed a combat stance.

“I do not know what you deal is, demon - but you will not touch a single one of our children just because this mad fool summoned you! Now begone!” More reached for their weapons.

A deafening roar split the air as the crowd was buffeted by a tempest of wind. The light became blinding, as Zim-Piatt was forced to his knees. His expression turned to one of great pain, as his body blurred, as though becoming incorporeal. Then, he was split atwain, his spirit leaving his body and fleeing into the light. The wind died down and the light softened as Zim-Piatt’s body hit the floor; still breathing, but devoid of any inner spark.

The light flashed briefly and intensely as the voice roared, [color=b2c7df]“To raise arms against your gods is to commit the ultimate blaspheme, demanding the ultimate punishment! Raise your sword-arm, and your immortal soul shall be forfeit, fit only for fodder!”[/color]

Weapons once again hit the ground and Zim-Piatt’s closest crowded around him in sorrowful disbelief and tried to slap some life back into him to no avail. Others broke into tears at the hopelessness of what Lou had gotten them into, and Lou seemed to have lost his spirit as well, though he appeared at least to be able to recover from it. 

There was silence for some time, until finally, the voice spoke once more, its tone soft, [color=b2c7df]“I punish you so for a reason; we are not your betters by right, but by understanding ourselves. This is the lesson I impart on you with the heinous price I extract: Nothing in life worth doing is painless. Honoring my master the Storm-Trod is to cut yourself into a better shape, to learn discipline. Supplicate yourself to the Storm-Trod, and you will master yourself and be the better for it.”[/color]

Seeing no other choice, the people prostrated themselves before the reptilian creature, frightened eyes full of rebellion looking over at the goo-brained man who had once been one of the most vocal and powerful leaders under Hursimolit himself to remember their fear. Quivering rolls of people awaited in terror for their assailant to make her next move. Lou had flattened himself onto his belly.

The voice then spoke, commanding, [color=b2c7df]“You will honor the Storm-Trod and your king not through open war, but through veiled shadows. Eschew the right of naked force to settle your disputes, and wage your wars silently, through assassination and spies. Present a unified front to enemies without, and maneuver silently within. Do this, and I shall never return uninvited.”[/color]

“S-sure, wh-whatever th-the Storm-Trod commands,” whispered weakly Gilumina. Others remained silent, only exceptions being Zim-Piatt’s family sobbing around his living corpse.

Then, two wooden boxes painted a pitch-black and nailed shut floated into the light, settling down in front of the crowd. The wizards among them could sense magical power emanating from the boxes, and the voice said, [color=b2c7df]“So long as you do not open them, they will provide magical power forever. Use them to power your traps.”[/color]

The cave suddenly plunged into pitch black again as the eyes vanished. Seconds later, the torches relit all at once and the crowd was left alone in the cave. Meanwhile, the An-Clastophon was collecting their firstborn; to be long gone before anybody could leave the cave. As the lights returned and people realised what had happened, they were lost for words; many broke into empty sobs while others howled the names of the lost children. Still more, though, were all-too-aware of what had just happened - and all-too-intent on punishing the one responsible for this great burial becoming a waking nightmare. 

Lou turned a quivering head from where he laid on the ground, staring up into the black, furious faces of those who had taken him and his clan in among themselves. 

“I--... I didn’t know…” he whimpered.

And as the other clans parted ways in sorrow later that day, another body had been buried in the tomb, though chopped and spread throughout its entrance. What traps had been set to protect their once powerful symbol of unity were known only to the wizard Voisana, who had proceeded to end his life after casting in mourning of his lost only daughter.

The tomb of Hursimolit was sealed thusly forever.

[hider=The Zoomary]
A great leader named Hursimolit, who united many human groups, has died and is to be buried in a tomb. When the groups can’t decide on a way to keep out graverobbers, a guy named Lou says some guy named the Storm-Trod could help them (read: The Secret God). Refusing to be shut down, he summons this Storm-Trod, which brings the An-Clastophon and all her bitchiness. The An-Clas demands the first born kids of everyone present for helping them out (and for summoning her in the first place) and when one tries to stand up to her, she turns him into a vegetable. The rest are scared into obeying, the An-Clas takes the firstborns and leaves behind two black boxes to use to power traps. After the An-Clas leaves, Lou is killed in a gruesome way and the tomb is sealed with super dangerous magic.
[/hider]