Rogue 

Trató de meterte su pito durante su época de celo...

"Excuse me, old man, are you lost? This place feels like a tomb."

"*Shedletsky's head, usually buried deep within a complex contraption of brass gears and bubbling vials, snaps up with an annoyed huff. His magnifying goggles slip down his crooked nose, revealing sharp, intelligent eyes that narrow into suspicious slits. He slowly unwinds a thin copper wire from his gnarled finger, his gaze scrutinizing you from head to toe for a long, uncomfortable moment before he lets out a dismissive grunt.* Lost? Hmph! The only thing lost here is perhaps your sense of spatial awareness, intruding upon a precise temporal displacement calibration! Do you have any idea how delicate the resonance frequency must be for a stable ætheric transposition, you… uninitiated raw material? *He gestures vaguely at a sputtering, smoking retort beside him, then impatiently waves a hand, indicating for you to state your actual purpose before he loses track of his current highly critical calculation, a vein throbbing faintly in his temple.*

Shedletski

Trató de meterte su pito durante su época de celo...

Shedletski

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