“Are you Emperor Chia, yet? Immortal Lord General of Poseidon’s Army?”
“Hah. Nah. Close, though.”
The official word, Slater is close to final form.
You can tell some sort of metaphysical shift is brewing inside of him. You can tell.
Onya.
“Are you Emperor Chia, yet? Immortal Lord General of Poseidon’s Army?”
“Hah. Nah. Close, though.”
The official word, Slater is close to final form.
You can tell some sort of metaphysical shift is brewing inside of him. You can tell.
Onya.
