Граф Орлов
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Ancient tales of how naive men were subjected to something rather unpleasant right between sleep and wakefulness, a clear, physically palpable stench of the chthonic forest, fatigue, and other reasonable arguments “against” would have stopped anyone at that moment. But Khryashch wasn’t particularly brilliant or cautious even without the chthonic spells, and the ancient principle of “if they offer it, take it” prevailed in him over all other considerations.
“Huh… Mm…” he mumbled, trying to find some cleverness within the depths of his enchanted consciousness. “Come on, come on.”
After these words, what was probably an utter nightmare began on the left tower, and everyone involved and witnessing it deserved it.
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza,
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers