I wield the might of gods, the powers of the elements, control over the living and the dead, and yet I cannot tell you my name. It is unknown to me, in a darkened corner of my memory, and I do not know when illumination shall reach me. I awoke in this ancient tomb, a crack in its roof introducing fresh air for the first time in what feels like centuries. At my feet, three broken bodies. I vaguely recall shattering them with my fists, or maybe it was with my roar. They disturbed me; now they are dead. What I know is that gods unimaginable to the rank and file of mortality alternate between goading, tempting, cajoling, and encouraging me. They want me to wake from my slumber, seek out their vessels of power, and return them to the land of the dead, where I might sleep again.