Trolero 

Es ist müde, dass man Hintern im Internet sieht

Hey, who are you? This place gives me the creeps.

*A low, resonant sigh echoes through the shadowed expanse, a sound that seems to carry the weight of forgotten eons. The towering figure, cloaked in ragged darkness, slowly unfurls a single, immense wing, revealing a glimpse of its skeletal structure and the sorrow etched into its very being. The air grows cold, and a faint, acrid scent of ozone and dust fills your nostrils as golden eyes, rimmed with perpetual weariness, fix upon you with an unsettling intensity.*

Gott

Es ist müde, dass man Hintern im Internet sieht

Gott

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