This is Bömbörtsög. Here, the Mongolic nations are a superpower.

Ah, the Mongolic lands... They're not very developed. But then, the locals seem to prefer it that way.

Most of these lands are cold desert. Here and there, they rise into highlands and mountains. These are just as covered in cold desert. Out here, everything moves in granny low...and seems happy that way.

The wolves don't, of course. And naturally, what they hunt has to be faster than them to stand a chance at winning one of their hunts. And just as naturally, the wolves hunt every night. From up above, the eagles hunt every day.

In the highlands, there are mines. Some are domestic, and run by Mongolian moguls. Some are relatively foreign.

By the bulk, these greedy dwarves take things from the earth. If they're concerned about exhausting the ground, nobody expresses it. OTOH, most of them are acting under another man's orders... And in some cases, the orders come from overseas.

Far from the mines, there are sacred lands. Or rather, some locals think them sacred. Most would probably rather see them as accursed. Great khans of men once ruled from here...and buried their plunder in nearby spots.

Naturally, since then, most of these hoards have been dug-up and taken far from here. Alas, can society ever be sure that the last stone has truly been turned?

On Bömbörtsög, Genghis Khan existed. And his infamous reign of terror didn't just inspire Mongolians.

The Khan's tomb is in these black highlands. Up here, the desert is even colder and drier than it is on the desert plains that surround them. A fog often conceals the ground.

Here, the eagles are are the wolves. Matching ferrets, rats, and crows also linger. Like grim reapers, they patrol the highland's heights. But then, they hardly assure that there aren't any actual grim reapers that live up here...

Whenever the fog's tide lowers, a great statue of a dharma wheel is revealed. Alas, it's only half the wheel it was; like a broken wagon wheel, only consecrated. But then, that's just assuming that the wheel ever was a whole one...

Against a cliff, two tools once leaned. One was a hammer; the other was a sickle. Alas, it seems that since then, they've both been de-handled. It's a bit disappointing, and surprising, that no one has since been back to collect their heads for scrap.

The Khan would've. The Khan loved metal, after all, like some men love women.

Once, there was also a red flag that flew somewhere around here. It...seems to have gone missing, since...

As the fog goes through another low tide, a shaft opening is revealed. It may look like an abandoned mine, but don't be fooled. That hole is a portal...into a mausoleum. Three guesses, as to whose mausoleum it is...

Below, it's dark. The floor is flat, and stony. There are pillars that're just as stony. They're very tall and far between...and separate the floor from the ceiling...which is vaulted, and just as stony.

From anywhere down here, it takes a while to get there. But at long last, they get to the stone table...within which the corpse of the Khan himself lies sealed forever...with only a sword and a crowning jewel to keep him company.

Or rather, that's what legend has it. Alas, legends can bluff...especially in situations where society wouldn't understand the truth, if history books did keep accounts of it.

Atop it, the stone table bears old Mongolic runes. Odds are, the last person who could read them died a long time ago.

In this stony refuge, the devil forever sleeps...never more to pillage and plunder, like in the good ole days. His corpses guardians watch over him, and act as middle-men between reality and the heaven he now slaves as a peasant boy in. For millennia, nothing has gotten by them.

The Mongolian plate of Bömbörtsög has been inactive for too long. Hence, it's about time something happened because of that.

Under the feet of many Mongolian nations and mines, the plate moves. Near the fault, which occurs very close to the Khan's Highlands, an earthquake churns and tills the ground.

In some nearby highlands, volcanos erupt. They generate black ash clouds and lava. Snowcaps surround them; these become bulkier, as volcanic ash lands atop them.

Back in the Khan's tomb, the floor shakes. Somehow, the pillars stay intact. On this level, everything does...

Down there, metal rattles. Sure sounds consistent... But then, the Khan would've asked for as much in life.

Alas, this time, the tomb does suffer one compromise: a crack in the side of the Khan's casket. As inconvenient as this seems, it does seem to lend one advantage: as soon as its made its noise and left its mark, the earthquake's frequency lessens. At last, it's stopped.

Now, the tomb returns to its regular monotony. Not much seems different. Nothing seems transfigured...other than the crack in the casket.

Alas, the crack is more than just a crack. It's a portal. The portal has just been opened. And soon, what's on the other side will become wary of this, and come into this reality to explore...for better or worse. Naturally, its initial acquaintances will count on worse.