You find an assortment of notes in a bloody bandit camp full of slaughtered thugs and bounty hunters. The corpses seem quite fresh and it is the early morning.
They all say something along the lines of getting a few of their limbs stolen in the dark, and then saying that it was probably just their imagination, as their bleeding wounds color each note a saturated reddish brown.
“Sombude sole haf mi hed in darkc. I theeng it gust mi imajinashn”
"Apparently, all my life I have actually been a man-nugget with only one arm and I was dreaming that I was a parkour artist all along. For some reason, all of my completely natural nubs have spontaneously started bleeding profusely, so I should get it ch
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