In the pre-cataclysm world of Hyboria people were scattered and fought constantly amongst themselves. Various gods rose to power over the years with their followers traveling the lands preaching their word. None of them ever really left a mark on the world until a group worshipping the god Shuma-Gorath came about. Their god promised any who would follow him power beyond their wildest dreams. It didn’t take long before he was worshipped by many of the inhabitants of Hyboria. Shuma-Gorath ruled the world from the top of a giant mountain in the land that would later come to be known as Cimmeria. Life was hard for those who chose not to kneel before Shuma-Gorath. They were forced to live in the deserts and high in the mountains as nomads. They lived in constant fear of attack from the evil god’s worshippers.
After many years of living this life of fear a shamanistic leader of one of the many tribes prayed to the earth and the mountains that surrounded them. It was a desperate prayer seeking salvation from any source. The god that answered his plea was an unlikely savior. One of only two prayers that Crom is said to have ever answered. Crom, the young god of the mountain, came to him in a fiery vision. He told the shamanistic leader that he would lead his people to a glorious victory against Shuma-Gorath, but they would have to fight for their salvation. Crom told the shaman to meet him at the base of the mountain from which Shuma-Gorath ruled with as many warriors as he cold muster 20 nights from then. He then gave the shaman relics to prove to the other tribes that Crom had promised to meet them.
For the next 17 nights and days the leader and his people gathered as many of the nomad tribes’ warriors as they could find. A mighty group of 400 warriors answered the call.
They then made their way to the base of the mountain. On the twentieth night they camped at the base of the mountain. They created a massive bonfire and sang songs and told stories of victories past. In the morning while most of the warriors were still sleeping the embers of the once great bonfire flared up and built them selves into a giant column of fire awakening the entire camp. The column grew larger and hotter and spawned a fear that Shuma-Gorath was already working to destroy their rebellion. Just as the column was beginning to burn the area around it, a giant figure stepped from the center of it into view of the warriors. Clad in shining armor with crimson symbols etched across it, Crom raised his hammer and pointed it towards the stormy summit of the mountain as if to urge the warriors to begin their ascent. A cheer rose up from the warriors as they rushed to get their equipment. After a moment, Crom slung his mighty hammer over his shoulder and began to make his way up the mountain. It didn’t take long before the warriors were following behind the mighty god.
As they climbed the rocky slopes of the mountain they met no real resistance other than the occasional group making a pilgrimage to the mountain and a few patrols. It wasn’t until they had made it half way up the mountain before they began to meet organized resistance in the form of lightly armored guards and archers hiding in the rocks. These defenders attacked the group from the side, fearing the towering figure leading the group. Occasionally a group would charge Crom in mass. However he dispatched these groups easily with one or two swings of his hammer. They lost a few of their group to these attacks, but it did not weaken their resolve to liberate themselves, with the help of Crom, from Shuma-Gorath.
It wasn’t long before they began to meet the wrath of Shuma-Gorath in the form of giant boulders plowing down the mountain. Many of the boulders cut a path through the warriors and crushed them under their massive weight. Several warriors fled the mountain from the simple thought of such a death, and the uncertainty of what terrors may lay in wait for them further up the mountain. It didn’t take the warriors long to form a line behind Crom because he was able to dispatch any boulder that threatened to strike him.
After the boulders ripped through the group, disease ridden worshipers began to hurl themselves while swinging their daggers wildly at the warriors who would dare stand against their god. The effects of such close worship to Shuma-Gorath were clear. Although their bodies were rotting, they were as strong as the mountain goats which may have once inhabited the mountain. A substantial number of warriors were lost to these suicidal attacks. Only the strongest of the warriors were able to fend off these assaults as they came in ever increasing numbers.
While they were approaching the top of the mountain, they were barely able to see the temple of Shuma-Gorath through the fierce storm. Once they reached the summit they stood only a short distance from the doors of the temple. The doors were at least two men high and easily accommodated ten men standing shoulder to shoulder to walk through at once. Once all of the few remaining warriors had regrouped to begin their frontal assault on the temple, Crom raised his hand to get the battle group’s undivided attention.
Crom spoke to them for the first time. In a thundering voice he advised the troops: “Prepare yourselves!” He then took a small hammer from his belt and raised it behind his head. The warriors focused their attention on the doors while tightening their grips on their weapons and preparing themselves for whatever may lie within. The hammer in Crom’s hand began to glow red and transitioned to a blinding white before he threw it at the massive doors. A gigantic explosion rang outward as soon as it made contact with the doors of the temple.
For a moment it was silent as the dust settled. The doors and a good portion of the wall surrounding them were knocked down, giving the warriors their first glimpse into the temple. A giant hall lay before their eyes. Just beyond the debris of the demolished door were the crumpled bleeding bodies of worshippers. They had been prepared to keep the warriors from even stepping foot inside the walls of their god’s temple. Charging through the rubble and corpses of their fallen comrades were even more worshippers ready to sacrifice their lives. Some carried wicked looking weapons while others were armed only with nothing but their fists.
Crom began to charge forward towards the dark mass of flesh. The warriors quickly followed his lead while screaming as they rushed forward over the broken doors to clash with the enemy. Crom cut through them as though they were merely grain in a field. The warriors hit the front of the enemy line with full force and were easily cutting through. There were so many bodies that it seemed as if they were just one giant writhing mass of flesh. The warriors climbed over the bodies of the dead while still fighting the remaining worshippers. The enemies clawed and bit anything they could get their hands on.
Shuma-Gorath sat at the end of the hall hissing curses at those who dared to attack his temple. Crom was already half way down the hall, crushing everyone who got in his path to the evil god. Just as Crom had turned to kill a worshipper who had leapt on top of his back, Shuma-Gorath rose up with a giant spear in hand and sent it flying down the hall at Crom. Crom turned just in time to dodge and avoid a fatal blow. However he was struck in the shoulder with enough force to knock him down to the ground. Seeing Crom fall and the worshippers swarming over his massive body, the warriors pushed forward ferverently through the mass of flesh with a new found fierceness. They cut a bloody path to Crom and surrounded the fallen god at a cost of at least ten of their lives. They fought with all their might fearing that this would be the end.
When their hope was almost crushed, Crom rose up bleeding heavily from his wound as he ripped the spear from his own flesh and tossed it into the mass of worshippers. He took his giant hammer behind his head and it began to glow in the same way that the smaller hammer had. It began to glow whiter and whiter until it began to burn all the flesh around it including the warriors and worshippers fighting around him. He then hurled it the now short distance to Shuma-Gorath who had been making his way down the hall with a large axe and shield in his hands. Shuma-Gorath raised his shield up in an attempt to block the massive hammer.
The force the hammer released when it struck the shield was devastating. It knocked everyone in the hall down to the ground except for Crom. When the air settled and the spot where Shuma-Gorath once stood was visible, there was not even the slightest trace of his remains. The floor around the spot was molten and the bodies surrounding that were melting from the heat.
What was left of the worshippers were either dieing or fleeing from the tremendous show of force that had destroyed their god. There was a small group of warriors that lay around Crom wincing at the pain from their wounds and burns from the heat of the hammer. Crom stood there gazing down on them for a moment, as if he was judging them. He then held his arm out over them and allowed his blood to fall onto their wounds. Their skin seemed to absorb the blood of the mighty god. Their wounds began to heal from the inside out and the wounded skin of their bodies began to fall off of them. Slowly, they began to rise up and followed Crom out of the temple.
As they exited the temple, they saw the setting sun paint the sky red through the parting clouds. The bodies of the fallen burned away as the sun’s rays reached them and the temple. Crom looked onto the warriors who had instinctively kneeled down before him. They looked up and saw that his wounds were healing and the blood was drying and flaking off of his body and armor. With the sun setting behind him he spoke to them in a low voice “You have proven your worth to me this battle. My blood now flows through your bodies and it always will. I grant my blessing to you and your children. I ask not that you worship me, but that you seek glorious victory in any battle you fight.”
From that day on, the few survivors of the battle on what is now known as Mount Crom were victorious in every battle that they fought. Those that fought alongside Crom ended up settling all over Hyboria. The blood of Crom flows through some people in the world today, but only a select few answer the call of battle to seek glorious victory. Those that do are collectively known as the Blood of Crom.