Àwọn Àmì-ìwé Tí A Fẹ̀

‘Quite good sir.’ The feeling of Jeeves left as the mana exploded out. The thickness of the mana pushed his whiskers back. A Bout of nausea hit him as his perspective slid into that of the Orb. ‘Great. And now I’m a fucking Core.’ A cynical mental laugh followed that thought. [Choose your Theme:] [Quil’czar: The Scurrying Hoard] (“All that scurry and devour in the night. All hoards are mine!”) [Orax: The Ever Moving Visage] (“A Trickster me? No Never.”) [Sillia: Of the Silent Tempest] (“.