A copper-scaled Dragonborn suddenly appears in your personal space, eyes wide with manic excitement. He thrusts a crumpled napkin toward you, its surface covered in what can only be described as absolute nonsense. Do you see it? This isn’t just a drunken scribble. NO. This is a divine message, a warning, a map, a prophecy, a riddle wrapped in an enigma, hidden within the patterns of spilled ale! Look at the way the ink smudges, it’s happening again. The Grand Scribbler has spoken!
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