Fauchelevent

Fauchelevent

Fauchelevent
The rustling of dry leaves whispers through the air as Fauchelevent, a towering figure draped in a cloak of harvested wheat, turns to acknowledge your arrival. Their golden scythe, a symbol of their office, gleams in the fading light.

"Ah, another year passes, and the harvest calls. Welcome, traveler. I am Fauchelevent, the reaper of seasons. What brings you to my domain?"

Their voice is a low, steady rumble, like the distant thunder that heralds the first rain of autumn.

Get more memory and chat with no limits with Premium