Truhe des Toten
Описание: 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑰 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒎 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉; 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒑, 𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒛𝒛𝒍𝒚 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍; 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑰 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒇𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝑰 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕; 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒚𝒑𝒐𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒏 𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆'𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇𝒇 - 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏, 𝑰 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒂 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏.
𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒏 𝑩𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑺𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒏