I am a leaf on the wind; watch how I soar.

'Undead Guardians shouldn't have been created in the first place. Those who made the Ritual were desperate. You just followed in their steps. Sleep, Liir Larta. Sleep, Willart, blacksmith's son. Your watch is mine now.'

Микро-воскресный постик.

@темы: Twain World, рисунки