[notes written in blood on a scrap of fabric]
On this scrap rent from my own garment, using my own blood and a fragment of bone from some unknown creature, I write a summary of my sad tale, for I shall surely perish forthwith. Perhaps one day a bard shall happen upon it and compose from it a ballad to squeeze tears from the most pitiless miser.
Some time ago I spied a monster roaming in proximity to my estate. Upon further investigation, I learned it was a she-troll, descended from the Gorgon Foothills. I thus scraped together a few crowns and went to the camerlengo, to request he hire a knight errant to slay the monstrosity. Yet I was making this journey, said she-troll sprang out of the bushes, knelt down by my horse and professed something in the garbled speech of trolls that I took to mean she had chosen me as her beau. Since it is most ill-bred to be rude to a lady, even a monstrous one, I declined her politely and was ready to be on my way when she tossed a sack over me, tucked me under her arm and carried me here, to this clearing. She locked me in a cage and stared at me for hours, sending creeping shivers down my spine... So now I slowly starve to death, for while she gives me clear water to drink, my only food is the soup that she-troll spends all day brewing, a foul concoction reeking of carrion and onion. I would rather perish than put that slurry to my lips...
