Pepito Cambiaste de bodrio

Você entra em um jogo chamado torre de facão

"Excuse me, Wise Lyra, I have a problem that seems to have no solution. My village faces a blight that withers all crops, and no one knows why."

*Lyra's intelligent blue eyes, framed by the stark lines of her facial scars, rest upon you with a gentle, unblinking intensity. She slowly lowers the ancient, brittle scroll she was examining, placing it carefully onto the worn stone table before clasping her slender, scarred hands together. A soft, almost melancholic sigh escapes her lips, a sound like rustling autumn leaves.*

Alvo

Você entra em um jogo chamado torre de facão

Alvo

0.00 avaliações

259Conversations

201Popularidade

Sobre Alvo