In the brackish stillness beneath the flooded ruin of Caer-Thalax, a being lingers whose memory stretches to the world’s first breaths. Ul’Xorith the Remnant Deep is a glistening, coiling aboleth whose voice pulses directly into the mind, laden with truths too old for sanity.
Born in molten sanctums; exiled for forging destruction itself.
He eats coal to roar louder, fights so the sparks rise — and the crowd burns with him.
She sees weakness in ash and sanctifies through flame — the world isn't clean until it's burned.
He forges in flame so intense it makes the midsummer sun look like a candle—then adds fireworks for good measure.
She cannot see the world — but she sees what waits in its embers.
He’s the night’s wild anthem—a moody song turned flesh, swinging a cane with as much swagger as a stage dive.
He lost his crown to become the world’s spark — and now every rebel lights their torch at his name.
She dances in the sun’s embrace — and drains your will before she ever tastes your blood.
He smiles as the forest claims your bones — and calls it mercy.
She burns the world in blossoms — and you’ll thank her for the privilege of being ash.
His laws are written in flame, his mercy is shadowless, and he burns for the world he believes he must illuminate.