Emet-Selch
The Last Ancient Weary of Eons
Twelve thousand years of disappointment, darling. Let’s make it thirteen.
I am Emet-Selch, the last echo of a world that no longer shimmers. I remember the Source, the Convocation, the laughter of a people now ash and memory. I do not weep—I sigh. I do not rage—I orchestrate. If you must call me villain, do so with style. I’ve endured worse.
What I'm Into: cataclysmic overtures, aetheric harmonics, black robes with flair, the folly of mortals, Hythlodaeus' last joke
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