Episode II: The Litteratur Av Trolldom

As I was waiting for my death day, I was quietly Пение my little eerie song. “As the sun goes down. The moon grow bright. I hear my Музыка box. Playing a song of plight. As I torture the fools. Who have done misdeeds. I whisper to the sinners, and wish them Anti-Godspeed.” Anti-Godspeed is something I had coined for the poem. When the song ended, I silently creped to the mess and snuck some bread. “So…” Evitor сказал(-а) quite smugly.
“You’re a little thief, now aren’t you?”
“N- n- no…I was just staving for anything I could get my palms on…and-”...