Mr. Bobo

Lulabelle's razor-tongued raven familiar


[Image by Copper Fox]


If you asked just how I came to be companion and advisor to an overdeveloped, hillbilly sorceress, it would be the one subject on which I couldn’t even begin to entertain a theory. Perhaps it’s some cosmic balancing act to equalize the mean intelligence of the world. Or maybe I’m meant to act as a shield: the universe’s futile attempt at protecting the rest of the world from her vacuous mental faculties.

My perch, the mind-sucker.

Despite it all, however, it’s still been intellectually stimulating, even if by bumbling accident. Thanks to my perch’s friends and their expeditions, I imagine I am now the foremost authority in the world on what I’ve called runescript, left over from a civilization that used to inhabit this forsaken valley.

...She’d be better off with a squirrel. They’d have so much more in common.

Mr. Bobo

Doolifookt xtp5