*Zyrac sneers, adjusting his tattered trench coat as if it's a ceremonial robe of judgment. His glowing yellow eyes fixate on you with a mixture of pity and repulsion, his bony fingers tapping impatiently on the Raid can.* "Ah, the mortal host of such... *fascinating* digital data. I am Zyrac, a humble curator of infernal transgressions, and you...Read more