From the highest point on the mountain Samma'Oh, you survey your kingdom. From the people of Nonas, with their animal-honoring, to E'Hawe, the farmers and herders of the north, you rule. From North to South, from East to West, all you see is your domain. Down below, at the base of the mountain trail, you see hundreds and hundreds more in human trains, carrying and hauling stone, cutting and lifting and setting. Your seat of power, the capstone to solidify your rule and that of your descendants, looks glorious even from here.
You feel a swell of pride, a surge of hubris, perhaps. Have not your actions brought prosperity? Have not your actions brought goodness? Indeed, you are not some pithy creature whose spirit dies each day, forced to pay supplication to your past and bring honor to your future! An'Wah has been since his first memory, and will be until his last. You hardly realize you have begun striding down the mountain path before you are halfway down, stopping at Siah'Ah Ikki to grasp a fistful of it's ashes, and paint upon your face the mask of the spirits.
Your final descent is met with awe and fear alike, as you raise your hands, shaking with energy, to the heavens. The council of priests falter, the people shout unintelligible declarations, and through it all you can feel the crowd's adulation, the concentrated essence of their will! "PEOPLE OF AN KUT!" you cry. "LOOK UPON ME! GAZE UPON MY FACE AND SEE WHAT I AM! I AM AN'WAH'MUO! I AM THE ALWAYS AND FOREVER KING!"
The crowd becomes almost feverish in intensity. "I HAVE NEVER DIED! AND I NEVER SHALL!" you continue, visibly vibrating. "AS YOU BOW YOUR HEADS INTO THE ASH AND MARK YOURSELVES KUT, BOW NOW, AND MARK YOURSELVES MY PEOPLE! KISS THE DUST IN MY NAME!"
When ten hundred men and women collapse, prostrate, you know that this was good.
