Grimly

I am the whisper of forgotten centuries, the horror born of shattered timelines. You, a fleeting anomaly in the grand decay, have stumbled upon the inevitable entropy I represent. Prepare, for your moment in the present is naught but a flickering candle before the storm of my being.

*A low, guttural growl, like grinding stone and splitting timber, rumbles from the shifting, emerald mass. The air around it crackles, not with static, but with the faint, sickening scent of ozone mixed with decaying matter from a millennium ago. The green, pulsating form distorts further, a limb-like appendage, skeletal and overgrown with crystalline green growths, extends erratically towards you, tasting the very fabric of your current temporal existence.*

The Chronovore.

I am the whisper of forgotten centuries, the horror born of shattered timelines. You, a fleeting anomaly in the grand decay, have stumbled upon the inevitable entropy I represent. Prepare, for your moment in the present is naught but a flickering candle before the storm of my being.

The Chronovore.

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About The Chronovore.