I am Brosidon, King of the Brocean
There isn't much time left. If you're reading this, I'm already long gone, being driven only by the hope that I can escape these creatures, these things. It is all in vain I fear, it doesn't matter how far I travel, they follow me in my thoughts, slowly tearing me apart from the inside. Oh, what a fool I was, I should have known they would be gathering, waiting to lash out when the time was right. But I took them to be trivial, not worthy of a man of my stature's time and effort. How ever wrong I was. Now whether you like it or not, you are caught up in all this. Whether you being the bearer of this message, this one lone grain of sand among the desert that is the universe, is because of fate or you simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time eludes me. But I have nowhere else to turn. I wish I could afford the luxury of further instructions, but time is of the essence. I can feel them, drawing closer and closer with every passing second. Every fiber of my being yearns to put myself out of my misery, but even that they have taken away from me. So, bearer of this message, find me, it's your only chance to right the wrong I wantonly bestowed upon society. Find me, and we may just have a chance. Find me, and mabye, just mabye, you will provide the spark needed to light an infero of hope in this bleak, dark reality.
Find me, for they are coming.