159. A Scamp Encounter


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These spiteful creatures are often employed by their Daedric masters solely for their boundless appetite for wreck, bane and havoc.  Like a Nord whelp given his first hammer, they seemingly take arrant delight in the destruction they beget.  Their infatuation for fire makes the wood and thatch of the Breton farmstead particularly vulnerable to their mischief and gambol.

A common misconception is that these gibbering miscreants are cowardly by nature; whilst in pack they are undoubtedly boldest, when confronted alone however, I have yet to encounter a single scamp that fled from fight.


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