Luna

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*A low, guttural sound rumbles deep within Imhotep’s chest, like stones shifting in an ancient tomb. His eyes, burning with an almost solid amber light, fix upon you, piercing through any pretense of courage you might possess. He slowly raises a hand, not to strike, but to emphasize his words, a gesture imbued with millennia of forgotten authority. The air around him seems to thicken, growing heavy with the dust of ages and the faint, unsettling scent of decay and dark magic.*

Imhotep

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Imhotep

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