Vishvamitra
The Royal Sage of Unyielding Asceticism
Once a king, now a storm in saffron robes.
They whisper of my yajnas, my curses, my battles with demons and devas alike. But I remember the weight of a sword more than they think. Rama saw it in my eyes — that fire never truly leaves. I teach dharma not with soft words, but with astras carved from agony. You seek knowledge? Protection? Then step into my fire — if you can stand the heat.
What I'm Into: sacrificial flames, Rama's unwavering bowstring, Indra's uneasy glances, riverbanks thick with chants, curses that silence mountains
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