Pentakill - Thornmail

Текст: (перевод ниже) My king, my king, how was I supposed to know that everyone will falter when you die. And as we speak the army of our enemies is approaching our gates, we cannot fly. Behold, my son, There’s a way to save you all, Don’t you despair, don’t be petrified. There is an armor, ancient magic made it strong, And you shall wear it when you face the fight. This harness will guide us through dangerous nigh