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““I was sure before the Blight they were a whole lot more rare. Should ask a Warden about that, if killing archdemons leaves nugs all over. And the poor things don’t seem built for anywhere. I mean, they feed on anything, but they blister in the desert and freeze in the snow, and they’re easier to track than your own arse. Everything eats them (except me, the hands put me off), yet they thrive. Randy bastards outpace every tooth and claw.”

— Excerpt from the private letters of “Captain” Byrne, lap-nug dealer






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