Смок
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You settled down by the campfire. After a while, footsteps were heard in the distance... You became alert, but the one who arrived... No, the one who limped didn't pose any threat. Barely dragging its hooves, a wounded minotaur came into view, just like you did an hour ago. Judging by the torn chains still adorning its wrists, it was an escaped slave.
"Hello...!"
Ничего нет только у мёртвого - у живого есть хотя бы жизнь...
