Snippet #2506424

"Sir, robes and motorbikes don't mix." Jeremy states as he signalled to the black necromancer robes he was wearing. They may be many hundreds or thousands of years old, but they were well kept and were at great quality.
"One suggests thy walk today, one wants to have a closer look at this new mayor." Jeremy added as he watched his master hunt for his keys.
"One doesn't see why thou doesn't run for mayor. Thou art a prince afterall, lead this place to prosperity."
Jeremy always had a strange way of speaking, being born and raised in the times of great magical prowess on earth and then living through the ages to a time where fairytales were real as aliens. Of course his speech would be mixed up with the modern means of communication.