"The Story Of Chron" lyrics
The being now called Chron was once Reginald Voss, a brilliant horologist in London in 1798. Consumed by the fear of death, Voss constructed a massive, enchanted clock of brass, bone, and silver, believing its intricate mechanisms could let him outrun time itself.
On the night he activated it, time answered with merciless precision. His body withered in seconds, flesh dissolving as leathery wings tore from his back. He became a winged skeleton, eternally aware, yet forever reminded that no one escapes the persistence of time.
Voss found himself cursed to carry the clock, its weight a constant burden and its hands a mocking reminder of time's persistence. He can set the clock down at will, but he can never stray far from it, or his skeletal remains become brittle and degenerate.
Professor Rowan Fenn encountered the tormented skeleton in a derelict clock tower years later. Recognizing the value of such a stark lesson in humility, Rowan invited him into the caravan.
Chron now travels with Rowan, Clara, Grim, and the Praying Hands, dragging or carrying the enormous clock as needed. He stands guard at thresholds between worlds, marks the precise moments for powerful spells, and serves as a solemn warning:
Time cannot be outrun, only accepted and endured
On the night he activated it, time answered with merciless precision. His body withered in seconds, flesh dissolving as leathery wings tore from his back. He became a winged skeleton, eternally aware, yet forever reminded that no one escapes the persistence of time.
Voss found himself cursed to carry the clock, its weight a constant burden and its hands a mocking reminder of time's persistence. He can set the clock down at will, but he can never stray far from it, or his skeletal remains become brittle and degenerate.
Professor Rowan Fenn encountered the tormented skeleton in a derelict clock tower years later. Recognizing the value of such a stark lesson in humility, Rowan invited him into the caravan.
Chron now travels with Rowan, Clara, Grim, and the Praying Hands, dragging or carrying the enormous clock as needed. He stands guard at thresholds between worlds, marks the precise moments for powerful spells, and serves as a solemn warning:
Time cannot be outrun, only accepted and endured
