Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Plain and leather-bound with slightly damp pages, a journal sits atop an overstuffed but strictly organized pack. The first page of the journal is written in a large, messy script that seems to contradict its careful surroundings. It would seem the journal’s writer is not quite comfortable holding a pen.

HELLO. I am Tav. To day is to gather with --

SADOWART
AY STAREEUN
GAY A WATERDEEP
LAYZEEL CROTCH KILLER
AND BILL THE BLADE FROM DEERS

We are with worms. Teet worms life with not devil war maseen flys. Bad song. Elf loose brayn :( Tav is no help. Tav is on the fire. Tav hit lootanant. Tav want to the beech. Tav tastes a shall. Sadowart is fine.

Tav and Sadowart hit elf brayn. No elfs. Then Ay stareeun. Elf with brayn. Must to see Ay stareeun head good -- Tav is helping.

Gay a Waterdeep is a rock. Than -- hyuman? Tav is a worree. Because rock 4 13 manny? on beech. Must see to Rocks. Hyumans all so?

Layzeel crotch killer sat in up in a tea fling baskit. Tea flings afrayd. Tea flings run. Tav bake a Layzeel baskit. Ally with the crotch killer.

Not see tea flings heelar for worms. Tav with gobleens. Tav hit gobleens. Bill hit gobleens. All hit gobleens. Tea fling dye. Tav preys for Cannon.

All are with a camp. Tav tastes a feesh and 3 potato. Tav is with the moon. Tav sweems with the moon. Tav likes to sweem.

Ay stareeun is whatch Tav sweem. Tav is whatch Ay stareeun brayn. To morrow is cure. Tav preys.

Gudnit Tav jurnul.

____

Beneath the painstaking entry is a far cleaner script. The words read easily but hold a certain flair, as though with a twist of a pen, the writer could breathe magic into the ink.

Tav, given your expressed difficulties with writing, I took it upon myself to spend a few moments with your journal thus far. First, I must impress upon you the correct spellings of our names:
SADOWART Shadowheart
AY STAREEUN Astarion
GAY A WATERDEEP Gale of Waterdeep
LAYZEEL CROTCH KILLER Lae’zel of Crèche K'liir
BILL THE BLADE FROM DEERS Wyll, also known as the Blade of Frontiers

Further, I will attempt to correct and interpret your entry below for the purpose of your study and my sanity.

Indeed, we have received a most unwelcome insertion in the form of an illithid parasite. A rather dismal circumstance that leads to ceremorphosis -- I assure you, it is to be avoided! I suppose you could say that a Nautiloid is an Illithid war machine rather than a fiendish one. And yes, the parasites certainly did boast quite the set of teeth, didn’t they? Dreadful creatures.

Bad song. No dulcet tones reached my ears, but perhaps this occurred during my time in the glyphed stone. What sort of music would an Illithid audience appreciate, I wonder?

An elf lost their brain? The unlucky supper of a Mind Flayer, it seems. I doubt there is anything you could have done to change their fate.

Tav is on the fire. Do you mean that you were on fire? In such circumstances, it is best to quash the flame posthaste!

You fought a lieutenant of the hells? An impressive feat indeed. If not for the other ordeals of my life the day, I would consider my own venture to Avernus quite charmed by comparison.

Tav want to the beech. Tav went to the beach. More accurately, Tav plummeted to the beach.

Tav tastes shall. I certainly hope not! The shards of a shell would be enormously painful on the way out!

Sadowart is fine. I’m glad that Shadowheart is fine as well. Rather, I am more concerned about why you felt the need to write that she is fine. Did she come to harm?

Ah, I see. You and Shadowheart fought an elf brain? Perhaps an Intellect Devourer born of a most ill-fated elf.

Astarion is an elf with a brain -- a standard medical assumption. I would like to see more intellectual evidence of that, and I doubt very much that you can aid him in that undertaking.

Gale of Waterdeep is most certainly not a rock! I merely emerged from an arcane portal affixed to one. Is that why you insisted on that second sweep of the beach? I assure you, none of the rocks that you have collected are human. On second thought, some may contain fragments of human remains. And while it is possible to achieve a magical melding into stone, I cannot understate the unlikelihood of such a circumstance here. People bursting from stone is about as rare as…illithid abduction, I suppose.

Layzeel crotch killer sat in up in a tea fling baskit. Lae’zel of Crèche K'liir sat within a trap set by the tieflings. I see, you saw that they were afraid and played on that fear to compel them to leave the scene, as it were. A clever move!

Tav bake a Layzeel baskit. Tav broke the trap, and so Lae’zel joined our merry band of the adventuring infected.

Yes, we did run into quite the spot of trouble following the directions of those tieflings. We found the grove under vicious siege from goblins. Serendipitous, for Wyll to join us when he did. We all hit the goblins, indeed!

Very unfortunate, that a person died in the fight. I am relieved that none of us count among that number.

Tav preys for Cannon. Very kind of you, and very close! Tav prays for…Hm, I’m not entirely certain that’s how you spell his name. We shall have to ask, so you can pray for him properly.

All are with a camp. We made camp. A rather charming one given our limited supplies, in my humble opinion.

Tav tastes a feesh and 3 potato. Tav ate a fish and three potatoes. While I’m deeply glad you enjoyed the slapdash supper I managed to whip up, there is no need to mention the amount of potatoes so long as you pluralize your vegetables appropriately.

It was a rather lovely moon last night, wasn’t it? I applaud your energy, that you were able to go for a brisk swim in the nude after that absolute wallop of a day.

Ay stareeun is whatch Tav sweem. Astarion kept watch over the camp, you mean? I’m not sure that I follow why you felt the need to watch his brain.

While I rather doubt that prayers will lead us to the cure we seek, they won’t hurt our chances. Pray away, my dear acquaintance. I will study the matter as well.

Goodnight journal is a nice enough sentiment, but a typical letter sign off would read along the lines of “Sincerely, Tav.” Or, “Best regards, Tav.” Though I suppose if you’re keeping this as a record of group activities, no signature is required. I do, however, recommend beginning with the date as best practice.

Well done on your first entry. Your writing requires significant improvement to be read by someone without the proper context, but the first step is the one with most resistance. Keep at it!

Yours in misadventure,

Gale of Waterdeep, Archmage to the City of Splendors

The pages that follow are filled with the efforts of the first writer. They faithfully scribble over and over again the names of their companions and the corrections left by Gale of Waterdeep until the ink pales and the words grow tremulous.

Chapter Text

On this page that begins the second entry of the journal, the margins of the messily scrawled text are filled in by different hands with various names: Mol, Mirkon, Silfy, and Arabella. There’s a folded page tucked carefully behind it, which reads “Mirkon’s Story.”

THE DATE AS BEST PRACTICE

Tav is ramambering to rite cummin tung. Gale of Waterdeep helps Tav practice cummin. Gale of Waterdeep is neyes. Gale of Waterdeep is a wheezard. Gale of Waterdeep cucks Tav 1 salamee and 2 ayg and 1 potato. Tav likes brakfeast.

Tieflings are not with Elturel eny mor. The drooleyds are not neyes with tieflings. Tieflings and drooleyds are with afraid song. Bot Drooleyds and tieflings do not like goblins. Blu human with beerd and nutbook likes goblins and is with invesibel dragun.

The Drooleyds sing afraid song to Silvanus. Afraid song dark song rot song. Dus Silvanus like the song? Tav dus not like the song.

Allfeta song is sad. Tav likes the song and to sing to gather.

Hoppy song is no. Tav hit a hoppy. Hoppys are with big neyes wengs but hoppys are not neyes. Tav is with hoppy fathers from died hoppys to mek a seet for Gale of Waterdeep to thanks for cuck. Tiefling chilled MIRKON is fine.

Tav tastes a grool in the Draguns Layer. Grool tastes wet and dragun is invesibel. Maybe shai like shadow. MIRKON geves Tav a neyes story to reed. MOL is worry song for the tiefling chilleds. SILFY is soree for tayking a life skrol and 2 potatoes from Tav. Soree is neyes to say and SILFY can be with 1 potato. Tav likes potatoes and SILFY.

Tiefling chilleds worry song for ARABELLA. Tav is helping ARABELLA. All is seeing Netty for heeling.

Koreguh likes a rot song. Koreguh is not neyes to Arabella. Koreguh is not neyes to snek. Givs snek a rung song. Not Silvanus song. Koreguh nos. Arabella is fine.

Netty heels a blu berd :) and not heel Tav :( Natty is afraid of Tav and illithid parasite. Netty likes to hit Tav with poysun steak. Netty dus not hit Tav. Tav prumises to taste poysun if illithid parasite changis. Dus poysun taste?

Arabella pearants are neyes. Tav is with magik lits nacklice. Gale of Waterdeep tastes 1 nacklice. Gale of Waterdeep likes to taste magik eyetams. Maybe magik eyetams taste. Tav likes to help Gale of Waterdeep with neyes taste magik eyetams.

We made camp in Drooleyds grub. Tav tastes a uine and a spaisee simp soop and 2 waterdave chees and 4 graps. Astarion likes to taste uine only?

Yours in miss adventure,
Tav

___

Beneath the untidy, unpracticed script is a far neater reply. The written words are almost painfully precise and straight across the page, as though the writer was often the scribe for someone so dreadfully particular about presentation that it squeezed all personality from the letters.

Ah yes, the ubiquitous cummin tongue. So very nice of Gale to help you practice, truly. I think you should tell that blowhard wheezard personally, how much you like to practice cummin. And that you especially like it when he cucks your salami.

But honestly, is it necessary to list everything that you put in your mouth? If you must, consider keeping a separate food diary so as not to crowd the events of the day.

How in the unnecessarily loud devil-folk did you manage to spell Elturel correctly of all things? The drooleyds (druids is the correct spelling, but I rather like your version better) are tiresome and the tieflings are needy. Best ignore the lot, if we’re to accomplish anything at all.

Afraid song? The only singing I heard came from the weepy bard you insisted on indulging. You can barely talk, and your singing voice far outstripped hers. At least that lute she gave you might sell for something.

I do suspect that bearded human dressed in blue spends a lot of time with his nutbook while thinking of invisible dragons. Or goblins. Or perhaps both together. Even sorcerers need conceiving, I suppose.

“The Drooleyds sing afraid song to Silvanus. Afraid song dark song rot song. Dus Silvanus like the song? Tav dus not like the song.” What in the bloody fuck -- Congratulations, you spelled the name of a god correctly. I suppose they hammer that into your thick heads in paladin school, if little else. Their spell chant does sound rather dreadful though, well observed.

I concur, Tav. The harpy song is a no. They are not in the least bit nice and should indeed be vigorously hit until they cease all movement and breath. Well done. Pluck out their feathers and make a nice pillow for Gale. I hope it has lice is very nice, a splendid award for his cucking.

Did we truly have to befriend the little miscreants who robbed you? If you’re going to be carrying around our things, you must practice more situational awareness. Kind and generous soul that I am, I will train you myself. When you catch me picking your pocket, we will consider the training complete.

Perhaps there’s some hope for the miscreants after all. It would be awfully fun to steal that idol. And if it’s not, well, at least it would end their caterwauling. What is it with you and potatoes anyway? Not that it makes any difference to me. Go on passing them out to the children scattered across the grove. I’m sure that won’t confuse them a whit.

“Tiefling chilleds worry song for ARABELLA. Tav is helping ARABELLA.” Here’s an idea, how about instead of helping every sob story you find in this rat’s tangle of a grove, we help ourselves. Our problems don’t flee in fear just because you smiled your way into Arabella’s judge seat. You’d make a dreadful magistrate.

What did Kagha do to the snake?

You are quite right about that awful excuse for a druid. Who heals potentially diseased birds and shakes poisoned branches at innocent adventurers in need? But I do not care if it tastes -- take one sip of that poison, and I will slap you with a steak. Repeatedly. My mage hand will continue the task whenever I have better things to do. We have much better uses for that vial. I shall steal it from you in recompense for making me watch the whole affair. Consider it part of your training.

Arabella’s parents are idiots, letting her run amok where she could come to harm. What does that say about mine? Regardless, Gale was positively voracious with that necklace. Astarion does not like to help Gale with nice magic items. If you happen across something mostly useless, like that bardic hat, perhaps he can taste that while we all watch.

Astarion does not like to taste wine only! Astarion was simply not hungry for simp soup and -- gods above, you’ve shocked me into the third person. Why do you do that, anyway? Write properly in the first person, using I instead of Tav.

Do sleep well, darling,

Astarion

Chapter Text

DATE AS BEST PRACTICE

Tav likes to rite name. Astarion seys not rite name in jurnul. So Tav will sey -- I tasted brakfeast! For brakfeast I tasted 1 cheek in sussage and 1 corvette and manny beens. Brakfeast was good.

Today we are lust. We gut lust looking for Hallseen. We did not feynd goblins camp. We feynd a peepel camp. Wyll, also known as the Blade of Frontiers, seys bandaids camp. The bandaids like to steel. I giv bandaids 1 potato. The bandaids hit I. The bandaids hit Gale of Waterdeep. Then I hits the bandaids. All hits the bandaids. Shadowheart rasurect I from the wayting.

The bandaids are died. I did not like to keel the bandaids. Can not rasurect bandaids. The bandaids hav 1 tomyaytoe and 1 horses radysh. A horses radysh does smel and Gale of Waterdeep seys it tastes. Gale of Waterdeep seys to not taste tomyaytoe. Tomyayto was steeky and does taste a sowur.

We want in to a tempel rooins to make a camp affter fite bandaids. But. We feynd 6 bandaids in side. I does not like to hit bandaids but to proteked I hits manny. Gale of Waterdeep and Wyll, also known as the Blade of Frontiers, are cat sing magick. I is with a big fire on the oyl baskit. Shadowheart rasurect I from the wayting agayn. Lae’zel of Creche K’liir seys SAKVAH manny teyms. I do not no SAKVAH meening. May be it is not nice.

We make a camp and look at a tempel rooins. Gale of Waterdeep feynds manny books. The books are manny colors. I likes a blue book with red lyns. Shadowheart feynds a sekrit levar for a rum we will meet to morrow. Astarion feynds cloths and does not like the cloths. Wyll, also known as the Blade of Frontiers, feynds a fire bottle. Lae’zel of Creche K’liir feynds a poison. I fyends a picksure of persun with green magick in a gowldun fram. I likes the paynted pickture. I looks at it when I tasted dinner. I tastes 1 peeper and 1 salami and 2 carrot and 7 wall nuts with a horses radysh chees saus cucked from Gale of Waterdeep.

I name the pickture persun Tomyaytoe because they looks a sowur. I tell Tomyaytoe goodnit.

Yours in miss adventure,
Tav

___

The penned lines of this response took their time sinking into the page, such that the words -- though neatly written -- come out extraordinarily dark and bleeding ink into the fibers beyond the letters.

Tav, when Gale said to write the date as best practice he did not mean to write those words exactly. He meant to write what day it is according to the calendar. For example, today is Eleasis 22nd. If you’ve lost track of the days, you can ask one of us or describe an element of the landscape that will help the reader place you in space if not in time.

There is no need to include everyone’s origins and titles in speech or writing. It would be a bit long to “of Waterdeep” Gale every time, wouldn’t it? Wyll prefers that you just call him “Wyll.” Personally, I see no reason not to revert to Crotch Killer for the Gith. It suited her nicely.

As for your breakfast, I think I’ve guessed you correctly: chicken sausage, courgette, and beans? I wasn’t entirely sure about chicken sausage. We did also pick up a pig’s head from that medicine woman to appease Gale. Something about cheeks being a delicacy, I don’t entirely remember.

In lust, you say? Speak for yourself. We haven’t even seen this Halsin yet. I do think you mean lost.

As for what happened, bandits are generally after more than your potatoes. You’ll need more cunning if you want to avoid a fight. Generally speaking you can either figure out what someone wants and provide it (not recommended, people will always ask for more than you give), or convince them -- through pleasantries or intimidation -- that conflict with you is not in their best interest (true). Better to scare someone than go through the trouble of killing them, yes? Square those big shoulders of yours and hold up your war hammer. That ought to get the job done.

And for darkness sake, exercise a little caution and stop running farther ahead than I can heal you. My spells can only reach as far as sixty feet in line of sight, and we aren’t made of resurrection scrolls. If you need a marker on the battlefield, as much as I hate to admit it Lae’zel fights at appropriate range. And if someone says they are going to start an explosion, run away from it, not to it!

What exactly do you mean by the wayting? Waiting? The waiting? I’d like to hear about it if you're willing. Most people don’t remember the time between their death and resurrection.

“A horses radysh” is horseradish. I wonder why they call it that, anyway. It smells a little and is quite spicy on its own. I much prefer it in a sauce like Gale made. Your bowels will thank you for not eating rotten tomatoes. But as long as you dig your own latrines and don’t expect me to heal you, do as you like. You might learn faster that way.

Again, a little more cunning or a lot more strategy, and I won’t have to gather the pieces of you off the floor or listen to Lae’zel waste air with her cursing. It’s probably fair to say that if it comes out of her mouth, it’s not nice.

We have made camp at the temple ruins. Whatever god was worshipped here, I can’t say. We may find some clues about that tomorrow in the room the secret lever showed us. Though it was really more of a switch than a lever, I knew what you meant, so consider it well done.

“I fyends a picksure of persun with green magick in a gowldun fram.” This should be “I found a picture of a person with green magic in a golden frame.” Actually, I’ll pull out a few sentences to model agreement patterns for you. It seems the first person (when you use I) is giving you some trouble:

The bandaids hit I. = The bandits hit me.
I does not like to hit bandaids but to proteked I hits manny. = I do not like to hit bandits, but to protect my companions, I hit many.
I is with a big fire on the oyl baskit. = I was near the big fire on the oil barrel.
I likes a blue book with red lyns. = I like the blue book with red lines.
I likes the paynted pickture. = I like the painted picture. (you can also say “I like the painting.”)
I looks at it when I tasted dinner. = I looked at it while eating dinner.
I tastes 1 peeper and 1 salami and 2 carrot and 7 wall nuts with a horses radysh chees saus cucked from Gale of Waterdeep. = I ate a pepper, a salami, two carrots, and walnuts with a horseradish cheese sauce that Gale cucked made.

Cucked, shadows protect me. No matter what Astarion says or writes, go with “made” or “cooked” instead of “cucked.” That means something else entirely that I best not commit to print.

As for your sour painting, I’d never have taken you for an art lover. At least you didn’t have to face an inquiry for it, as I did in the Druid’s Grove for appreciating the Dark Lady’s depiction. Don’t get too attached, that should fetch us some good supplies with a proper trader.

You can tell your “tomyaytoe” goodnight from me as well,

Shadowheart

P.S. Thank you for staying between me and the wolves yesterday. I should have known you’d be understanding about a reasonable fear. It’s appreciated, nonetheless. I thought you ought to know.

Chapter Text

Though the journal writer’s penmanship seems to have improved somewhat from the many, many pages filled with their practice and repetition of corrections, the overlarge scrawl of this particular entry appears shakier than usual, as though the writer might be shivering.

Today is Eleasis 23nd in a creept as best practice,

Today I tasted for breakfast 1 sausage and 1 oh rage and 1 bum. Astarion does not taste breakfast. Yasturdy Astarion was brooding at goodnight. But. There are no aygs. I give Astarion 1 potato unteel we can find a nice aygs. But. Astarion is with a big anergi today and nice smaile. Maybe he likes to brood with 1 potato for sit on. I am happy. But. I am with a small anergi today? Worm does not etch. But. Nack etches.

Gale stays in the big tabel room to console-and-date sopplys for a sayle. Lae’zel of Creche K’liir stays to guard a wheezard and becos we are istik. Istik meens a no use stranger. Lae’zel of Creche K’liir says a Creche can heal a parasite. Gale is to trade sopplys at Grove and Lae’zel of Creche K’liir is to find a Zohru at Grove. Gale prumis not to for sayle a sour painting.

In the creept we find 3 chasts and 2 doors. 1 door is lucked and Astarion says he can not luck lick. I do not onderstand why to lick a luck? But. I like to help companions. I lick the luck but door does not open. But. Astarion lafs for many minnets. Lafs is nice. Shadowheart with a smaile and says LUCK PICK not luck lick. Now I am onderstand why not lick a luck. It does not taste and it does not work.

Wyll opens the ather door. We find a chast and a mall and a sol koin! I like a mall so much. A mall is bigger than wars hammer. I do not like a sol koin. We find a toom. I open the toom. I find a kee and speer. The room is on fire.

We close door to the room on fire. Goodbye fire. :) Kee opens lucked creept door.

There is a stone picture of Jergal with big feather in the creept. The bones of Jergal worse shippers are with Jergal in the creept. Shadowheart and Wyll look at bones for items and I and Astarion find a book of dead gods. Dead gods comed back. Do gods go to waiting too?

The creept has a undead botton! I hit the Jergal worse shippers fighting bones. Mall is hevvy. Why is mall hevvy? A Jergal worse shipper can talk to Tav like home. A Jergal worse shipper assed a cooastion to me - What is the wart of a seengel mortal life?

The mortal life is a prashus. I will protect them so much. I want to help.

But. I am a very small anergi. Toom is a resting place. We rest and I do not taste a dinner but taste a breakfast the rung way.

Yours in miss adventure,

Tav

___

The response to the writer is etched with an elegant tilt and curl script that speaks to both dramatic personality and high education; despite its pronounced character, the words make great effort to be legible, as though the writer themselves had passed much time forming stories that long to be shared.

Dear Tav,

Thank you for sharing your efforts in accounting our adventure together. And I suppose that I should thank Shadowheart that you’ve stopped calling me “also known as the Blade of Frontiers.” Not that I minded, of course. Your intent comes across too clearly for offense.

“Today is Eleasis 23nd in a creept as best practice” -- My friend, it seems your entry start fell victim to a condition called “too many cooks in the kitchen.” Fear not, the case is not too severe for aid. You’ve correctly shown us the time and place. There is no need to add “as best practice,” as that phrase just implies the most commonly accepted way to do something. Here’s how you can set it up -- I’ve crossed out the words you don’t need:

Today is Eleasis 23nd
In a crypt as best practice

You’ll notice I crossed out the letters following the number day. For now, it may be best to just stick with the number. There are rules to define which letters go after which number days -- they correspond to the ordinal numbers -- but perhaps that is a lesson for another time. Remind me when you have a “big energy.”

Speaking of cooks in the kitchen, I see that we share a great fondness for good food! It seems that our companions have tried to instruct you regarding “eat/ate” rather than “taste/tasted.” But clearly taste is significant to you, so let us go over some correct spellings of food items instead: orange (oranges, if more than one), bun (buns), and egg (eggs). Oranges taste sweet and tart, sometimes a little sour. Bread buns taste malty and nutty. Eggs taste savory and creamy.

As for giving Astarion something to brood upon, I suspect our rogue would find any excuse to dwell dramatically. You are quite right that broody hens sit upon their eggs in wait for them to hatch, but in common, the word also suggests that someone is more…metaphorically sitting on a problem they may or may not hope to solve. That being said, Astarion did seem chipper this morning. It’s been some time since I’ve seen someone so cheered by a potato.

I’m sorry that you feel so tired today. Perhaps you didn’t sleep well. If your neck itches, a spider or mosquito might have gotten to you in the night. I’ll lend you a ball of dried lavender -- much of what bites doesn’t like the smell.

Gale seems like a trustworthy sort, I very much doubt he will sell the painting you’re so fond of unless the need becomes dire. Lae’zel, I’m more worried about, but a little distance might benefit both her and Shadowheart. Though a githyanki Creche isn’t the most promising of our leads, I can hardly blame her for wanting to try.

I see now why you licked the lock. I admit you had me quite puzzled by that one, but it seems you just misheard pick for lick. Keys open doors far better than our tongues do. Please know that you can ask us to repeat things for you. For myself at least, I swear to never be offended by the request.

I do not like Soul Coins either, terrible prisons that they are. Would that I had the ability to free the souls trapped within. I wonder how exactly they ended up here? Regardless, I’m glad that you found a weapon that suits you better. With your proud stature, you can make a maul quite threatening indeed.

Yes, you did set off the trap on the tomb. No one was harmed this time, but do listen when next one of us says we are disarming the trap.

Jergal? I didn’t realize anyone still worshipped the scribe of the dead. I’ll have to look at the statue again, now that you’ve named him for me. It places that Book of Dead Gods in context, at least. I’m not sure what you mean by the waiting? But in a sense they might. Whether it’s true or not I can’t say, but I once read that when a god dies, they go to the Astral and drift, a statue of themselves until their time comes again. That could be a kind of waiting. Or it could be there’s little to that legend, and they simply return to the cosmic energy that made them.

Perhaps our new, strange acquaintance knows. I doubt very much that he would tell us if he did. “What is the worth of a single mortal life?” is quite the question indeed. Did you really hear it in the tongue of your home? It sounded to me as though he was speaking Common. You answered his question as well? Did we all, at the same time?

Regardless, I agree that mortal life is precious. But I also believe that what you do with that gift matters. There are those who squander it. While many of them deserve second chances, give them out carefully, my friend. I’ll call back to Shadowheart’s wisdom here -- use your words or strength of presence to disarm conflict where you can. But when there are people to protect behind you, needs must. Judging how you fought against those bandits, I trust that you know that.

I’m sorry that you are feeling so unwell. Being in this place might have some ill effect on you in combination with the worm. Though I’m no Gale, I’ve put a bit of plain oats on the fire. They will not taste like much, but food is strength as well as taste. Let’s hope that with plenty of water and something in your stomach, you will feel better in the morning…and that the trapped tomb you opened didn’t also hold some nasty curse to untangle.

Yours in misadventure,

Wyll, also known as a friend, if you like

Chapter Text

Whatever condition brought the writer’s hand to quiver in the last entry seems to have abated now. The too large, clumsy script scrawls eagerly across the page, which is slightly stained with what seems to be pink berry juice.

Eleasis 24
In barrys booshs

Bones not broke can hurt. I hurt an every wheres. Shadowheart says to heal salf. But. I can not heals if I can not finds the hurt start. We meet a Gale and Lae’zel of Creche Kl’iir at Grove. Gale and Wyll says may be I got of coursed in the crypt trap.

To be of coursed is very wet. Very too hot and too kooled. Nose is so much full with stecky bad. Throwt etches and Tavs lung wants to meet Faerun. A of coursed I can only taste a no taste oats.

I question a Jergal worship skalaton name is Worthers for an of course. Worthers says feet speens a long as it shud. Worthers does not have shoos. I question Worthers if wants a shoos. Worthers says no. I am of coursed steel.

I can not heals an of course. But. I am fine. I am helping. We get erections to find a goblins camp from a peenk tiefling. Then. There is a so much hairs person called a bugs bear. The bugs bear likes to sweeng a mornings star at peenk tiefling. I poosh the bugs bear. The bugs bear falls very long. A peenk tiefling has a Soul Coin and a tellingskope. The dragon in a tellingskope is not invisible. Lae’zel of Creche Kl’iir does have a nice smaile for a dragon.

We walk for long. I do not ramamber the time. The of course is stealing time and Astarion is stealing for training Tav to see stealing. I do not see. But. A morning I have 12 arows and 1 kooled arows. And a now I have 10 arows and 3 carrots. I like carrots batter than arows. Thank you Astarion for carrots and for a training.

Wyll steals a Tav shovel to dig a chast. I like to dig for a chast. I like to dig a latreen. I like to dig so much. But. I am of coursed. Thank you Wyll for help. I am not a jelus. The road has 2 chasts and 1 troubel. Troubel is a dowarf hurt by an owls bear. This place is having so much bears. Druids bear, bugs bear, owls bear. I hope some bear can be a free salf bear.

I like to heal hurt dowarf. Dowarf is Eedown. Eedown says to protect 1 bruther and 1 seester. They like an Ab Salute. They look for a mind flayers war machine for an Ab Salute. For died Eedown I help. I give 1 bruther and 1 seester erections for war machine. Fire is very big. May be they can find it and not any ones bear or brains.

I hurt to look at Eedowns bodee. The hurt is a loud call inside brain and hurt is not the of coursed. A call wants I to free it. But. I do not. When the call stops a worm comes out Eedown. A brain worm like we have. Lae’zel says SAKVAH. I says SAKVAH. All says SAKVAH inside.

All says I shud sit down. But. I want to talk to a owls bear. Poshun of Animel Speeking does taste like hair. The owls bear does not be long to a owl. The owls bear has nice feathers. The owls bear has a babee owls bear. The owls bear has a hurt that is not of coursed. I want to heal it. But. Owls bear is so much angree. Give owls bear the thing it wants becos not want to fite. We go away.

Before to leve a bad smel cave we find a chast and a shraine to Selune. All says the chast is a trap. But. I open the chast. The chast has a beyouteifol nacklice with a blu rock. Shadowheart does not like it. Shadowheart says Selune is moon weetch. But. Nacklice is gantle. I hold nacklice in hand and the of course go away. I am fine. I am batter. Lung likes to stay inside a gain and I do not hurt.

We make a camp out side bad smel cave near barrys bush. For dinner Gale cooks a pigs had stoo with 1 pigs had and 3 carrots and 2 potatoes and 1 onyon and 1 wine boddul and I do not know salt. I taste a pigs had stoo. I like pigs had stoo so much. Thank you Gale for pigs had stoo and to not for sale a tomato wheezard painting and to not taste a beyouteifol nacklice. Thank you barrys bushes for taste 8 razbarrys.

Yours in misadventure,

Tav

___

The response is written in a crisp, militant hand. Though it is practiced and sure, something about the spaces between the letters suggests that the print might long for a different language entirely. It could be something else, if it decided to be.

Salutations,

The wizard claims that the trappings of comradeship extend to wasting my rest time with your imperfect account of our quest. Your attempt is as feeble as this Faerun. Yet you made it after passing a full day of march while afflicted with a condition both unknown and hideous. For that reason alone, I do not deliver this excuse for a Captain’s Log to the stream’s waters. I will not be merciful a second time.

The bushes we do not belong to an istik named Barry. The bushes produce berries. You will call it a berry bush for lack of a specific scientific or locally accepted name. Likewise an owlbear does not belong to an owl. It is half owl and half bear. Why such an unnecessary creature exists is a secondary concern. The pattern follows that a bugbear does not belong to a bug. The vexing specifics are unknown to me. Many insects and exoskeleton-bearing aberrations such as Neogi possess hair-like structures called setae. Yet bugbears possess no discernable exoskeleton. Its flesh was soft upon my blade. You would do better to call them faebears, for how they resemble all the weaknesses of Faerun.

Heal yourself, she says. It comes to little surprise that the cleric Shadowheart is unable to “find where your hurt begins” either or heal your so-called “curse.” Her training is inadequate or she is inadequate -- the result is the same.

“To be of coursed is very wet. Very too hot and too kooled.” Sweating. It occurs when a form tries to cool itself due to outside temperature, exertion, or a symptom called fever. More fever will occur should these illithid parasites continue to have their way, and the one that heralds ceremorphosis will strike more severely.

“Nose is so much full with stecky bad.” Congestion. You continue to sniff it back inside at your own peril and our collective disgust. Blow it outward, or your insides will fester.

“Throwt etches and Tavs lung wants to meet Faerun.” I can neither recommend Faerun nor introducing your lung to its indulgent atmosphere. Any competent ghustil would say the same.

“I question a Jergal worship skalaton name is Worthers for an of course.” I question your will to live, walking into explosions, carelessly springing traps, and speaking to strange undead of your weaknesses. Do not be swayed by the one called Withers and its lack of appropriate footwear. Locating a Creche remains paramount.

“We get erections to find a goblins camp from a peenk tiefling.” You are an annoying, soft-hearted half-elf with a large, fleshy nose that leaks incessantly and lacks economy. Your resolve in continuing on in the face of ailment is admirable but far from arousing. You will have to do better than directions to earn a rise from Lae’zel of Creche K’liir. And I do not smile at the sight of a dragon. I bare my teeth with the sliver of victory that a Kith’raki mount implies. We draw closer to a Creche and closer to our cure. This pink tiefling has proved useful despite her cowardice.

“The of course is stealing time and Astarion is stealing for training Tav to see stealing.” Good. Continue to train your awareness while impaired with the curse. If you require further training, I know of four ways to disarm an enemy with a carrot. Six, if you can deftly wield a carrot in each hand.

“I am not a jelus.” I am unconvinced. This is no criticism. Your propensity to physical labor is commendable. Next time, you and the Blade of Frontiers should duel for the honor of digging for chests and latrines.

A worse fate than that of the dwarf awaits us if we fail to locate a Creche. This Absolute is their war banner and the True Souls their warriors. K'liir never employed such terms in their extensive education on the Illithid Grand Design. If we must seek out this Halsin and waste our time with assisting the helpless tieflings, we must also seek their intent from this goblin camp.

“A call wants I to free it. But. I do not. When the call stops a worm comes out Eedown. A brain worm like we have. Lae’zel says SAKVAH. I says SAKVAH.” Tsk'va is an expression of displeasure. You do well to use it at the sight of another wretched worm. You did better still to resist its call. To relent is to be lost.

I did not say you should sit down. I said you should end that owlbear’s existence. Instead you spoke to it and bared our backs in retreat. Do not coddle a creature merely because it has young. One way or another, your weakness will return to plague us.

“All says the chast is a trap. But. I open the chast.” Further, you repeat the mistake that cursed you in the first place. That you were healed rather than obliterated is your luck but perhaps not ours. Though there may be a strange magic to it. I, too, feel stronger in the cave’s wake. Keep that necklace close, preferably where Shadowheart can enjoy its splendor.

“For dinner Gale cooks a pigs had stoo with 1 pigs had and 3 carrots and 2 potatoes and 1 onyon and 1 wine boddul and I do not know salt.” I admit that Gale has his uses. They would number greater if he would undertake training in the Hrath ajak battle stance, but pig stew will suffice for the day. Salt is measured in volume rather than grains. Unless the wizard has such tools, you best not attempt to quantify it.

Below this entry, you will find a list of words that you have misspelled and their correct forms. I expect to see them copied at least twenty times each, lest that painting you are so fond of end up in the stream alongside your stained journal. Do this, and you may call me Lae’zel without also naming my home.

I am not yours. I belong only to Vlaakith.

Lae’zel of Creche K’liir

After the signature is a long list of the misspelled words from the entry and their correct versions beside them. The next few pages are filled with the dutiful copying of each word over and over until its letters come steady and familiar.

Chapter Text

Eleasis 25
In a bad smell howse

Today is a good day. Today I have a re leaf. Today I have a dog friend is Skretch. Today I have a person not devil friend is Cowlack.

TAVS RE LEAFS:

I was with many worrees because Astarion tastes wine and tee only. :( But. On a yesturd day nite Astarion tastes a Tav. Astarion is a van plier and likes to taste a blood. I not knowed a people blood has change taste from a animul blood. Astarion says Tav taste is good taste. I do not taste good to me. But. I am happy because all can have a nice taste now. I can heal a small energy I understand. Astarion has a brain steel. All is okay. :) It is a re leaf.

TAVS FRIEND SKRETCH

Skretch is a white hair dog. Skretchs master friend is died by noles. I do not like a noles. I do not like Yeenoghu. Yeenoghu shuld stay in abyss for an ever. Scretchs friend carrys many letters for a people. Gale says to read a stranger letter is not nice. But. Astarion reads letters to Tav. :)

Scretch stay with a died friend. I like if Scretch is to gather with companions when Scretch likes.

A COWLACK

Cowlack is on fire. But. Cowlack is not a devil. Cowlack is a tiefling. Wyll is with a de stress and many feelengs song. Cowlack is run from Zariel. Zariel is a archdevil. Maybe person who says to Wyll COWLACK IS A DEVIL is a Zariel friend. When Miz or Ha cums to camp it is tru for a curtain. I do not like Miz or Ha. Wyll does not like Miz or Ha. Wyll is a war lock. Wyll is with a bad con track. Cowlack says Miz or Ha is a un plasant shit. I dig a latrine.

But. Be fore a big latrine for un plasant shites and Miz or Ha. All fights not a juss tiss paladin. I do not like And hers. And hers is a mortal life. But. And hers is with a Zariel. Cowlack hits And hers. I hit And hers. Wyll hits And hers. All hits And hers. And hers died. Cowlack is angree. Cowlack is on a big fire. The room is on a big fire. I taste 1 very long bread in fire room. I like long bread.

There is a door in the flur. The room smells bad. But. I berry a toad collacktor. Astarion souper vyeses. Astarion finds a key for sopply rooms. Sopply rooms are safe for a rast.

I taste for dinner 2 fish and 1 carrots and 3 mooshroom. A mooshroom is cute. The taste is good. Astarion does not taste a dinner. But. Maybe Tav is Astarion dinner at rast.

Cowlack knows Tav is a soldier. :)

Soldier in misadventure,

Tav

The text that follows is written in an elegant yet painstakingly legible hand familiar to this journal. The burn marks and sweat splotches that favor every paragraph, as though a fire breather ducked in close to read then abruptly backed away to project the journal, are quite new.

Well damn, is camp usually this exciting or am I getting special treatment my first night? First Mizora — and fuck her, seriously, that piece of devil shit. You don't have to write all that Wyll. Ha! You're writing this, too. All right you serious fucker, we'll get serious for helping soldier out. As you can see — read? Wyll is faithfully writing for old Karlach here, so I don't toast up your journal. Paper's not so easy to come by, yeah?

Cowlack had me in a fit, mate. A good fit, I mean! We all need a laugh now and again, yeah? I spell it like KARLACH. I like nicknames, but maybe not on the cow thing. Cows are different. It's an animal and another way to call someone lazy and awful. Damn, it's been ages since I've seen a cow. The animal, I mean. There are plenty of the other kinda cow in Avernus.

Anyway, first we had Mizora the fucking cow — are you sure you're good to keep writing, Wyll? Your horns are wicked but that looks like it hurts, where they came out. (Karlach and Tav, I'm fine. Fine to carry on, at least. The distraction is welcome.) And the whole bit about Astarion! A real vampire, damn. Judging by your face and what you've written, I don't think you meant anything bad by outing him in your journal. Underneath that crooked smile, I bet Fangs is a bit "relief" too, having one less thing to hide. Everyone's gotta eat! As long as he minds his teeth around us, I don't see a problem if he chomps on some bastards. Or on someone who doesn't mind, especially if they can heal it. We've all got our things, yeah? Like you said, I'm on fire and got an Archdevil on my tail. Wyll's got Mizora (you're gonna need a bigger latrine for that shit, soldier). I hear Gale guzzles jewelry, Fringe likes her mysteries, Lae'zel is, well, Lae'zel. And you're learning Common —

— You're learning Common, and I'm just blathering on! Sorry. I will try to keep it simple for you, soldier. You seem like you understand things for the most part — you did great helping me and Wyll see eye to eyes — but words aren't the only important thing. It's harder without our faces and our hands, yeah? So I'll do better.

You work on that, too. You are hard to understand in writing when you're breaking words to sound them out. It's good to do, you should do it, but maybe like this? Help us see that you're working one thing out with multiple words or sounds. Like —

Miz or Ha can be Miz-or-Ha (Mizora). And hers can be And-hers (Anders). Re leaf, re-leaf (relief). Yesturd-day (yesterday). Van-plier (vampire). Con-track (contract). Souper-vyeses (supervises). I think you see where I'm going.

I hope your dog friend comes to camp. (NOT CUMS though. Gods, I'm going to be laughing about that one for ages. Cums means something else. I'll tell you over at my tent, won't make Wyll write it.) I always liked dogs. Most animals, really. I can't pet him like this, but maybe we can find a mechanic among the refugees at the Druid Grove that Wyll mentioned.

Gnolls are such shits though, aren't they? Is that how you spell Yeenoghu? I've never seen it written. I hit many gnolls though. I think we're going to be hitting more, too. Hopefully the big one you mentioned doesn't claw his way out of the Abyss anytime soon.

(Fangs read you the letters, the nosey shit. I wonder if he'll read them to me, too.)

I have a "relief" too! That we smoked (killed) those fake paladins of Tyr! They must have been pretty insulting to a real paladin. Sorry about the fire. But hey, with any luck it made your long bread (called a baguette, I think) nice and crispy.

That wizard is a damn good cook. Cuter than a mushroom! I would kiss him, if it wouldn't burn his beard off. Holler if Astarion "tastes" too much of you for dinner! And of course I knew you were a soldier, the way you carry on with everyone moving around you. Didn't hurt that you're taller and broader than me, too. Can't say I've met many outside the hells who can say that.

Ready for some misadventure,

Karlach

Chapter Text

A weathered, thick paged book with a textured yellow jacket and "Dark Journal" etched on the side in a deep black font now reads "TAV'S 2 JOURNAL" in squat capital letters across the front cover. After many entries about a red wizard escaped from Thay and his foiled efforts to perform a resurrection, a new hand fills the pages. The handwriting is twice the size of the one calling himself Illyn Toth, but the large letters hold as much enthusiasm as they do care to write their shapes faithfully.

Eleasis 33

at ahpo-and-carry secret seller

I did not write for 7 days. Because. I writed so much and bee-cum no pay-pers in notebook. But. Today we find a ahpo-and-carry seller. A ahpo-and-carry sellar does have 7 heelthy potions and 1 not heelthy potion and 1 painting of a fogee mowtuns and 3 ants-dote and 1 no-poison potion and 3 inks and 7 diffrunt color books and 1 secret levar and 8 angree skaletun and 1 quasit friend for Wyll and 3 Illmaters arros and 2 lung-bows and 1 poop-nife and 1 magic item mirror with no taste and 1 yung bare and 1 bass-licks oyl and 1 locked book with a yalling face (Astarion says do not smite :( ) and 1 bracars of deefans and 12 incense and 4 water and 17 no-thing boddls and many flours and leefs for make a potion and make a poison and 1 Dark Journal

I like very much a painting of fogee muntans and a Dark Journal. A red wheezard Eely writed in the journal. But. Many papers left for I to practice all of the common with my friends. I am happy to talk to friends about whore misadventure.

My friends and me had busy for 7 days. We killed many gnolls on Rizz-hen Road. We ras-q a trader Zant-her-ream. Zant-her-ream trader says a smart lad shud walk away from a Zant-her-ream. I walk away to bee-cum a smart lad :) Child I was not very smart lad. Maybe childs friends will be a prowd of a now me. We can meet a trader in Waukeen's Rest later to for sale many things (please do not for sale a nice paintings tomyaytoe and fogee mowtuns).

We get stoled by devil Raphael. I do not like a Raphael. Raphael house has 2 bread buns and 1 apple and 1 wine and 16 graypes. Astarion says the wine is not very good. We did not kill Raphael :(

But. We killed many goblins in a steenky village. We killed goblins on a roof. We throo goblin down a well. We killed goblins in a howse. We killed goblins near a weend-mel. I liked a weend-meel so much. I liked a small angree gnome name is Bark-hiss. Bark-hiss does not like me. But. We get a dark poo-der and a very heavy grate-ax. Karlach likes a very heavy grate-ax. I like my maul very much and do not want a ax.

We fund a infernal iron for Karlach hart :) But. We fund a swanmp and not a Dammon. We getted very lost. The swamp was not swamp when we see first time. It was very nice wet. Then I fund a very sowf sheep with a funny voois. I make a funny voois too. Maybe funny voois is magic because nice wet place turned into a bad wet place and very sowf sheep becum angree gnome with a beerd and a tries-angles red hat. Gale says we was with a ill-who-sun.

In a ill-who-sun I walked to many traps and rotted my flash. :( I hited a Haunter person (Gur?). Because Haunter wanted to take Astarion to a Balders Gayed. And Astarion did not want to be a taked to a Balders Gayed. I hited Haunter very much. But. Haunter is not dead. I do not like to kill a mortal life. Haunter is maybe triked from a Catheter Sar. The Haunter is naked. The Haunter to tell other Haunters to not take a Astarion. If another Haunter wuld like to tray, I will hit very hard with my maul and take thayre nice close and wapons too.

We did not kill a Haunter or Raphael. But. We kill many mud meefats. I do not like a mud meefats with angree tree friends. I went to the waiting. My rotted flash was very better after a waiting. The meefats and the trees did have a letter for Korgah about a shadow druids. The shadow druids are not nice.

Tomurro I will write about shadow druids and a nice taste hag well and a Mayreena and a Mayreena bothers. Now I will taste a massed potato with waterdaveen cheese and 2 kaa-bob steeks has sheep meat and carrots and courgette and 1 meent tea and 6 graypes and 4 spoyaled tarts.

Yours in a misadventure,

Tav

PEE-ES Gale is mad at a me. Because. A Tav shuld not taste a kaa-bob steeks and 4 spoyaled tarts :(

*

This handwriting of this reply — while far smaller, neater, and more practiced than the entry it answers — writes at an inconsistent slant, as though a once highly regimented script forgets for fleeting moments what it's supposed to be.

You darling idiot,

Frankly, there is so much wrong with this entry of yours I cannot begin to know where to start. I suppose it can be counted an improvement over last time if nothing else. I can follow you properly. Might as well keep those bees happily cumming. Our wheezard will be pleased.

First, the month of Eleasis spans thirty days. We are currently in Eleint, which also spans thirty days. Count yourself lucky to have a companion as charitable as myself — on the inside cover of your "Dark Journal" I have drawn a calendar of the next few months.

Also, it's an apothecary cellar, you lackwit. Honestly, we saw that one written down upstairs. But I can hardly fault you overly. The blanket that you found while we were looking for the cellar does make for a softer floor of my tent, thank you for washing it. Why didn't you list it? You listed everything else? Anyway, best not to bother washing that poop knife. Just put it in Wyll's things, he'll be grateful for the extra blade.

If you even think about smiting that "yalling face" book, I will bleed you dry. Or fill your bedroll with those spiders you were singing to yesterday. Hmm, that would likely please you. To avoid the suspense entirely, I recommend you leave the book to my keeping. You lug the rest around on Gale's behalf, after all. It would be awfully heavy to add that one to the pile. And who could be more of an expert on undead than yours truly?

More plainly — by yours truly, I mean me. In exchange, I will protect that foggy mountain painting of yours.

To understand properly I will need you to say "whore misadventures" for me. As someone who is training you, I am responsible for your vocabulary as well as your pronunciation —

Don't read over my shoulder! I — Yes, you are saying it correctly. Keep spelling it that way, the w is silent. Absolutely perfect, Gale will be very impressed. As am I. How in the sweet hells did "our" become "whore." You really should show him your progress.

We could have had a much more relaxing seven days on the Risen Road. You personally insisted on killing all of the gnolls after we found the remains of their work. Blame yourself! And those Zhentarim are a troublesome bunch. While I can appreciate their dedication to coin, "bee-cumming" with them too deeply could make our hands sticky with their business. Walking away was the right move. Very smart indeed, especially speaking with him facing away so that I could steal the treasure from their chest and re-seal it.

Never fear, my smart — well, let's not call you a lad, at your size — darling. We shall put whatever this grinning flask is to far better use than a group of mercenaries that fail to even handle a few drooling gnolls.

As for whether or not your childhood friend will be proud of you, I would say try making more than one right move first, but you did naysay the devil. Well done. Not that I am entirely opposed to the option, but one should hardly surrender their soul on the first date. We shall make that fiend break out the fine wine before the end!

Yes, dear, we killed many goblins. Your spelling remains a work in progress: stinky, threw, house, windmill, angry, powder, great-ax…Why in the heavens would you like that Bark-hiss fellow? A rather unpleasant gnome, even as far as gnomes go, in my opinion. See why we shouldn't go through all that trouble to rescue people? In fact, I'm rescinding your smart title. Reflect on your actions and, perhaps, hand over that dark powder. Then I will consider restoring it to you.

We found infernal iron for Karlach's heart. And then forced her to wait. I suppose that it's because you're as empty-headed as a sheep that you do such a good impression of one. Why do we always get very lost?! In a fetid swamp beneath an illusion no less. My boots will never recover. Isn't nature supposed to be beautiful and serene?! Instead we find midges and flesh rot. Stop walking into traps! You were at least as lovely as you are stupid, and I have nothing to look at if you're spurting precious blood and disconcerting puss! It's distressing! Repent!

— Though I suppose an improved atmosphere might have made it more difficult to find that monster-hunting Gur. I will not go so far as to thank you. But you are quite right. I have no wish or intention to return in the company of the sort that killed attacked me that night in Baldur's Gate. While it is entirely possible the Gur Hunter was tricked, the danger remains, unfortunately, real.

I have to admit the beating him unconscious, disarming him, and leaving him mostly nude in the middle of a bug-filled swamp with patrolling redcap sheep as a warning might be a more terrifying deterrent to others than his absence would be.

That warning of yours better work. If not, I expect your maul to make it up to me and finish the next one properly.

Still! CATHETER SAR. I am certain that will find its way into my nightmares. And I will thank you for it. CATHETER SAR. Darling, that wonderful failure alone would be enough to earn back your smart title if only you would stop dying! It's dreadfully inconvenient!

Don't let something as small as a mud mephit kill you after you make my enemy look like a joke! It's insulting! And stop eating spoiled tarts! Your sickeningly sweet blood will give me a headache!

Honestly, I don't even have it in me to comment that you ate all the kabob sticks. Or how you licked the dusty old mirror in the "secret cellar." You've exhausted my ability to play the straight man to your absurdity for the day. You can be proud of yourself for that much. How do you morons do this all day and have the energy to write nonsense lists?

Deeply tired and not at all yours,

Astarion

P.S. This is how you leave a postscript.

Thank you

Chapter Text

These Journal pages written in the usual, clumsy hand of squat capital letters are splotched with wet spots along the ink, blurring certain words

Eleint 3 (thank you to Astarion for a drawed calendar)

in a cold spider cave with many weebs

Today all is angry to me. I do not know why. I like Astarion and Gale and Shadowheart and Wyll and Karlach and Lae'zel. I do not want friends angry to me. Thank you Worthers and Scratch for not angry.

I still to write about Awn-tee hag. But. If I tell a journal. Maybe I learn why there is a angry. I want to give best I am sorry for friends. I do not like to do a wrong. I do not wrong on a porpoise.

1 - I do not mynd when Astarion smile face says Tav is an idiot. A grampy face is fine too. But. Yesterday writing was not a smile face Astarion or a grampy face Astarion.

Then. I say Astarion can bite Tav for a happy. He did not bite a me. I say why. He says he tastes so much a bears blood. But. We made a camp in a cellar on yesterday night? And. Astarion did not say it is cave-bear or bug-bear. Yung-bear scalpture does not have blood. So. I think it is not true. But. Astarion gives me a nice taste orange for breakfast. Astarion is very smart hands to take shell from orange for Tav. Inside orange looks a prashus stone. I like orange so much. But. I do not like this feeling. Does it have a name?

2 - I like so much to see Gale cook a dinner for all! But Gale says no. :( Gale says rack-lass soldiers who run into clowd of daggers spell and a spider poison can not see a cooking dinner. :( For dinner tasted a spider egg soo-flay and 3 potatoes. I like dinner. I want to be a not rack-less to see it cooked next soo-flay time. Please very much to Gale of Waterdeep.

3 - Shadowheart yells at a me with a big voice. First time to hear so big voice from Shadowheart. Shadowheart says if you want to die do it on your oun time. I do not like to go to waiting. But. I do not like mortals my friends die. I fourgot Shadowheart says to tell about the waiting. I wait in a cwiet place. The cwiet place is dark with so many stars. Stars are far. But. I like to preetand cache with my hands. The grownd is gray and soft. Sometimes I lay on it. No bad and no good.

4 - Karlach wants a hug. I want hug too. I like hug so much. I hug Karlach. But. Karlach is not happy. Karlach is sad. Because my body bee-came pink and red. My skin goes like Astarions nice taste orange shell.

5 - I go to Wyll. Wyll wares a trubled face. Wyll says Karlach is sad. Because. I am hurt. Because. It is more alonely to hurt a want-to-hug person. I say is Wyll alonely. Wyll says some times he is alonely. But. Persons on fronteers bee-cum alonely many times. Because. Monsters hurt friends and family. Wyll does not like persons to be hurt and alonely. Me too Wyll. Alonely hurts inside.

6 - I heal a Lae'zel in a weeb. Lae'zel does not talk to me after weeb heal. But. There is a CHK. I do not know if CHK is more angry than t'svka.

7 - I say is Worthers angry too. Worthers says no. I say is Worthers alonely. Worthers says no.

8 - I hug Scratch. Scratch licks my face. I like to be friends with Scratch. Scratch sits on a me. Scratch is very nice hairs.

I do not understand still. I do not want to write about Awn-tee hag. Maybe on tomorrow. I want friends to like me. I want to watch the moon with Scratch. But. I can not see the moon in steeky spider cave :( It is alonely.

So much sorry in misadventure,

Please friend again Tav

*

The words following the Journal's entry flow in a powerful script of magic-bearing potential, stoppered to a gentle trickle by great effort of the writer to slow their quill

My dear friend Tav,

We know you have not done anything to offend on the back of an aquatic mammal on purpose. What Astarion's unnecessarily scathing* response to your journal entry failed to convey* yesterday is a great many things, the emotionally inept fool that we are not angry with you.

Actually, that is not quite true. I apologize, Tav. You are correct, we are angry with you. But not because we do not like you. In fact, my friend, you are very well liked and highly regarded*. I daresay even admired for your courage and warmth. Preemptively*, I would like to clarify warmth of character not temperature, but I am certain you are quite warm in that respect, too. That is to say nothing of your musk*…which is perhaps not relevant to this particular topic.

I shall arrive at my point: we are angry with you because we like you.

Perhaps that is not clear for reasons that have little to do with vocabulary. I shall endeavor* to explain this way:

How would you have felt in Lae'zel's place, if you were fighting well despite a mishap of webbing. Then, your grievously* injured friend recklessly dashes through poison and spellwork to heal your minor wounds? Worse still, you see them beheaded by an unnecessarily massive* spider before they can turn any of that healing in their own direction. I think in such circumstances, t'svka could not contain your feelings either, necessitating a chk and other foreign expletives* besides.

It matters not in the slightest that Withers —our resident enigma* — does not charge a fee for your resurrection. Though I truly would like an answer as to why. Your life is precious. Not precious the way a stone is precious, mind. Some foolish men may hold stones or gold pieces as dear as an irreplaceable life. Do not be such a fool — the rest of us are not, even if Astarion occasionally does an excellent job pretending at it. You are not expendable*. It hurts you see you hurt without cause.

Of course in some circumstances, hurt is unavoidable on this risky misadventure. The best way to mitigate* risk is to share it, and to that end, we travel together. I am coming to understand that group combat relies on trusting* in each other's strengths as much as aiding their weaknesses.

We have decided that until you are able to do this, you will remain at camp to rest, reflect, and assist with chores. Do not fear that this will be a lonely time, my friend. Tomorrow we will speak of strategy, so that when we next face combat together, you will understand what I seek to accomplish* with my spells and trust* in them. The next day, you will speak with another of our number and learn of their strengths and how best to support them.

All that being said, do not apologize unless you recognize a wrong you have done. We all come from very different and difficult circumstances; as such, we will all continue wronging each other in small ways that will become big ways if left unexplained. As you already seem to understand, the best apology is one that identifies and regrets a wrong not to be repeated. I think you know now what kind of apology you owe Karlach and Lae'zel.

But do not forget about the apologies that you, yourself deserve. I do believe that, in his own way, Astarion was attempting to apologize for taking his many fears out on you yesterday by gifting and peeling that orange. But as he did not identify the wrong and left you feeling poorly in not speaking the actual words of an apology, it is a rather insufficient* and you should consider extorting* him and his grampy face for one of those fine bottles of wine he tucks away.

Perhaps after such a bottle it will be easier to think of what I might owe and what I might deserve. And why one or the other feels heavier by the day.

I think such a bottle would pair rather finely with another souffle. Little would please me more than making another with you tomorrow.

Your friend,

Gale

P.S. I have marked words that you may not know with a star and provided their definitions below. Should there be more such words I have missed in my reply — or in anyone's for that matter — please use that mark and I would be delighted to clarify verbally or in writing.

Scathing — bitterly cruel or mean

Convey — to show, demonstrate, or provide

Regarded — how one is considered or seen; in this case, to be highly regarded is to be thought well of

Musk — scent, smell; yours can be considered highly regarded

Preemptively — intending to prevent, in this case, perhaps "before you can [misunderstand]"

Endeavor — try or attempt; one could say that we are endeavoring to cure ourselves of this illithid blight*

Blight — disease, affliction; perhaps most literally, fungus; the remains of the village above us can be considered blighted in many senses of the word

Grievously — terribly, very seriously; circumstances described by this word are to be avoided!

Massive — large; often, grievously large (preemptively, no, Tav, you are not grievously large)

Enigma — a mystery, something difficult or impossible to understand; for example, your fascinating description of "the waiting"

Expletives — a curse or swear word, often employed when one's feelings cannot be adequately put into words otherwise; I admit, I am not often forced to expletives, but not all are so fortunate in their expression

Mitigate — to lessen

Expendable — something of little value, easily abandoned, or lost without regret; a Gale of Waterdeep to Mystra, Mother of Magic

Accomplish — to complete or do successfully, to achieve

Trust — a belief in the reliability, truth, or strength of someone or something; pay attention to this one, as it is more easily read than accomplished

Insufficient — A Gale of Waterdeep to — Not enough, poor, or in short supply; for example, we are beginning to have insufficient potatoes for your appetite

Extorting — obtaining by trick, threat, or force

The reply above is marked with some much larger stars, and more definitions follow below.

Chapter Text

Eleint 4

in camp by the river

Today I staid in camp. It is a day-hoff. I did many things on a day-hoff.

At a together breakfast with 8 eggs hot pan with tomato and nice smell leafs and much hard bread I say I am sorry to every one. I did not understand. But now. I think maybe I start understandeng.

I do not like when a friend is hurt. I feel a scared and worryed. And. I am a friend for my friends. So. When I hurt Tav friends feel a scared and worryed. To go to waiting so much does not protect friends. :(

I do not know how to protect friends. But. Gale says if I ask every one can says about thair strong place and week place. Every one can protect a week place and thank you a strong place. : )

First at a day-hoff I help carry camp away from a spiders cave. Gale has many books. The books are nice colors. I like to touch the pages and find new words. Wyll says I am remembering common very good. Gale says I am most imp-rehseev. Astarion says per-hats not as stupid as he thot. Lae'zel says ts'vka and I do think ts'kva is batter then a CHK.

Instad of hug Karlach teeches I to shimee. We like to shimee together. Shimee is fun. Wyll is the best at a shimee. But. He only shimee one time. :( And. Only Karlach sawed a Wyll shimee. I think this is not fayre. :( He says maybe shimee more if I can bee-have. I will find a very nice bee-have to see a secret shimee. Astarion says Wyll is a too deem-your for shimee. But. I think Astarion has a secret. He can not shimee. Maybe he is a jalous. Shadowheart says no to shimee. Because Shadowheart says no shimee Lae'zel says yes shimee and shimee with a seryus face. All-so I am concern. Because. Gale raned away from a shimee. :(

Karlach and Wyll and Gale go to a Druids Grove to ree-supply. Astarion and Shadowheart go to spay on goblins moovemant. Because. We are klos to goblins camp.

I and Lae'zel make a camp by a river. The river is nice. We cleen armors and shark-en blades and give oil to all wapons. Work is nice. Lae'zel says beeside me if you must but stand in front of me again and I will cut your back. I do not like this. But. I understand. I am the same. I do not like when a person fights in front of I. But. If we make 2 front a enemee cannot have a easy flaynk. Lae'zel says if she needs a healing she will ask for it.

Karlach and Wyll and Gale come back to camp with supplys. There is a hansum prasent for I. Prasent is a painting I like so much. Painting is a person with red hair and a drass and a purple magic cloud. Maybe cloud is litneeng. Maybe litneeng is cloud. Gale says it is a in-ter-pat-ashun of call a litneeng. Wyll says a painting is sob-jack-teev. Karlach says purple is nice. I like a purple to. Lae'zel says ts'vka it is more useless eyetam. But. Lae'zel helps I to carry sob-jack-teev litneeng to meet a foggy mountains and sour tomato person. :)

Karlach and Lae'zel go to ron-day-voo with Astarion and Shadowheart. I ron-day-voo with Gale for a egg and cheese souffle. Gale teeches to saparete egg white from egg yellow. I am not good at egg saparete. But. I am so good at sturr to peekeng a stiff. Gale ron-day-voos egg yellow with cheese and butter. Then all ron-day-voos in pot for cook. I get to see a rising souffle. When I want to glad-song I can say wow. Wow it is hansum. I ron-day-voo with a nice taste souffle in my mouth.

Gale ron-day-voos with a nice taste souffle to. Then. Gale says he is concernd. Gale wants I to help practice a important diss-cunt-shun. I want to help so much. Gale says to I about the magic eyetams. There is a hungry magic orb inside Gale. A hungry orb is not nice. A hungry orb may ee-rapt. Because orb Gale is alone for a lung time. Gale did not say about a hungry orb because does not want to alone again. But. Gale says does not want to secret any-mor.

Gale says hungry magic orb is his folt. Because. Gale wantad to im-prass Mystra did a ron-day-voo with a hungry magic. I do not think folt is important. Ee-rapt hurts. Alone hurts. If it is batter for a Tav to ron-day-voo a problam it is also batter for a Gale to ron-day-voo a problam.

I say to Gale he is very imp-rehseev and brave. Gale says the onions for souffle ear-it-ate eyes. So. Gale goes to wash a face and I go fisheng with Wyll.

I am good at fisheng. Wyll says it is because. I am calm person can stand in river a lung time. I says it is nice to ron-day-voo with friend in a river. River is cool and nice. Wyll says many storees about Baldurs Gate. Wyll teeches I how to fellate a fish. We fellate many fish for a dinner.

Gale ree-covers from onion ear-it-ate to cook raice and mushroom and onion to taste with a fish. Every one ron-day-voos back to camp to taste a dinner. I taste for dinner 2 grill fishes and vagetabel raice. I taste for dessert 5 berrys and lissen to Gale says to every one about hungry orb.

Some friends are mad about a secret. Some friends are worryed for Gale. Some friends are most concern about a stay together. I says it is important to ron-day-voo a problams because. Everyone says to me it is so.

Gale is stay with every one and is a relief. I did not find a bee-have today.

Thank you for ron-day-voo with a friend on a day-hoff,

Tav

P.s. I forgot to tell journal about the Auwntee Ethel day. On a I forget day past week we find a hag with pragnut Mayreena. Auwntee was not nice to pragnut Mayreena so I smite her very much. Then. Mayreena was very angry at I. We go down secret stairs to find her layer and maybe help a hussband. We find many triked persons and many bad smell potions. We find a wand for hussband Conher. Hussband Conher became undead. I think. It was not good. But. I did not smite a undead hussband Conher. Because. I do not like Mayreena angry face. The end.

The letters scrawled across the page of the reply drip heavily with ink, darkly etched but flowing one to the next with the grace of a hand accustomed to changing its shapes.

Dear Tav,

Honestly, I'm not sure to be more cross (angry) with Gale for hiding the bomb of magic in his person or for teaching you the word rendezvous ("ron-day-voo" in case you don't recognize it for how different the spelling is). And before you become angry with yourself, you haven't done anything wrong in using the words you please. I may be more used to it in terms of strategy, but don't let me stop you from a rendezvous with your subjective lightning painting.

It is good that you stayed in camp today. Everyone needs a day off now and again (you can think of it as days "on" the job and days "off" the job — in this case, the job is making our way to Baldur's Gate).

I am glad to read that you are understanding your responsibilities (duties or jobs) in the group better. As I've told you before, I can only heal you so far. There's little I can do if you break formation (the shape of a group) and run far ahead. I hate to say it, but Lae'zel is right. You are too easy to flank. If the two of you make a strong front, those of us that fight mid-line can be more flexible (move around easily). This will help the back-line find better angles of attack.

As for my strong place to thank me for and weak place to cover, I am strong in defense, stealth, and reading the secrets of a face. I can heal others and myself and hold out well under heavy attack, but I would thank you to kill whatever thing is up against my shield eventually (not right away, but before the end). I can tell you my read on a situation, but you had best say something about it yourself. Unfortunately, being right does not mean that people will listen to me like they listen to you.

I don't exactly know what memories of common you are remembering. But I can understand the problem of trying to remember things that feel far away. Your words might be a bit clumsy (awkward, not skilled), but your smile and easy friendliness is helpful. Darkness preserve me — I'm not saying this to flirt, before you think so! I'm saying this so you also remember that there's more to a rendezvous than words. After all, Astarion and Gale have many pretty words, and all they ever do with them is find more trouble.

The Blade of Frontiers, shimmying unfairly? What will the bards say? I'm no dancer, and if Lae'zel wants to play at being one to spite me, I say let her shimmy. She looks shockingly all right completely ridiculous. It suits me better to watch Karlach enjoy herself. She seems the type that would carry me away from danger, should the situation require it.

Clarifying — this is not an invitation for you to carry me away from danger! It's an invitation to Karlach, which I have not given and she's rather busy with her secret shimmying with Wyll anyway. I do think you are right about our poor, unfortunate Astarion. I will not believe he can do it unless I witness the act myself.

I'm glad someone had a good day. We did not manage to spay any goblins. Or spy on them. (I'll tell you what spay means later, perhaps when Scratch is out of earshot.) Astarion noticed a different way into the camp, a log high across that reeking (bad smell) swamp. We went across, and I was helping Astarion disarm the goblin traps when Karlach and Lae'zel came as back up. Unfortunately, the log could not bear the weight of the rendezvous and dropped them into the swamp. There was no choice but to Featherfall down to them and fight our way back out.

An unsettling (strange, confusing) frog, a group of angry redcaps (the grouchy little fellows you bleated at outside the hut), and many midge bites later, we return to a fine dinner and the news that our traveling companion could potentially explode. Not that it seems any more or less dangerous than the creature we all have in our heads. And all of us have our secrets, though I would have liked to know sooner. You were the tie-breaking vote, and with all we have been telling you to spread the danger among the group, well, they could have hardly expected you to vote another way. If Lae'zel and Astarion are that upset about it, they can go out on their own and see how far that gets them.

As for your fishing, I'll tell Astarion to come and remark on that particular rendezvous. I think it will cheer him into forgiving you. Hearing about those onions can't hurt either.

About dinner — not the actual dinner, mind, but your description of it. When you speak lists out loud, you don't say and between each thing. You don't when you write it either. Use a comma ( "," ) after each item in the list until the last. You will add an "and" before the last thing in the list. Example: "Gale recovered from his onion irritation to cook rice, mushrooms, and onions to eat with the fish." I can write you some more examples after this entry.

Don't worry about finding a bee-have, Tav. Nobody actually expects you to go that far. Just do your best to listen from now on, and we'll be all right.

Let's rendezvous on the next day off,

Shadowheart

P.S. Did you really have to drink from the well at the Hag's lair? I'm still having nightmares about the stench. You might have better luck finding a bee-have if you minded angry faces other than Maryina's.

Chapter Text

If suffering be the will of Shar, Shadowheart should look on this cellar-plucked bottle of Arabellan Dry as one of her gifts. She suspects that her Lady will forgive her for thinking more fondly of the Ithbank from yesterday. The layered red from Tethyr might not merit any boasting or careful rationing, but its buzz would be a gentler thing than today's desiccating bottle. Two sips in, and she has a headache. A small price to pay to muddle her very acute awareness of every itchy mosquito bite on her flesh.

Adding another reason to be glad of his presence, Gale putters busily behind her, extracting jewelweed sap as the others clean up after dinner. With any luck, the sap should bring relief enough to sleep well. In the meantime, she has Tav's journal to distract her. She knows without picking it up that it won't be quite so downtrodden as yesterday's guilty reading. Perhaps they had been a little hard on their affable giant, but lesser hints escaped his notice entirely.

His many deaths — too depressing in number for Shadowheart to count — were not as freely rectified as Tav imagined. The rest of them realized it before he did, how each return seems to diminish him. Like parts of him remained still in the place of waiting he had described to her. The description had really only enforced the mystery of resurrection magic. One didn't need amnesia to appreciate that even to a cleric, much of that process remained unknown.

She remembers the basics of her craft, of course. The basics informed her that no matter how strange their Tav is, it's no mystery to find him dull-eyed and slow-trudging after dying nearly every day, on one occasion twice in the same day, for the full stretch of a tenday and then some. That's not even saying how it affected the rest of them.

As much as she mislikes the admission, it would take a Sharran more devout than herself to feel nothing at her companion's suffering in the name of protecting them. Talk about patronizing. And demoralizing, like their own skills matter so little to the effort of survival. Even if the constant, terrible, and frankly unnecessary sacrifice wasn't intended in such a vein, it opened like one and soiled the air entirely. Perhaps that's why it made Astarion the most pointy and quarrelsome of their lot. Not that he needs much provocation to be either of those things.

But the air is fine tonight, clear and warm as Shadowheart reads. It would take a Sharran more devout than her, too, to disdain the effort and wonder written in the purloined journal under her hands. The "day-hoff" had been a dose enough of the most important basic — rest — to return sparkle to Tav's broad smile and that bright, insufferable curiosity to his stare. She hadn't realized how sorely their camp needed it until all was dour and quiet.

She hadn't liked it that way, and her hand had burned all that night for the realization.

"Darkness preserve me," she mutters and takes a sip of dreadful wine to accompany Tav's treatise on shimmying. She finds herself smiling against the rim of her bronze glass, remembering her own refusal and the gith's loud proclamation of her cowardice. Despite owning a rather different definition of the word, Shadowheart was prepared to be offended until "Lae'zel says yes shimee" and "shimees with a seryus face."

She chuckles out loud for the account, and looks up to see Tav peering over his shoulder at her. He had been looming close and anxious for her feedback until she swatted him away citing personal space. He's been peaceably admiring his "sob-jack-teev litneeng" ever since, arranging and rearranging it among the various prizes throughout the camp.

This is, understandably, much to the pleasure of Karlach, Gale, and Wyll. Save perhaps the calendar Astarion neatly etched into the inside cover of Tav's journal and Mirkon's story, she's quite sure no gift has ever been so loudly loved. He's happy as a pig in mud to carry the massive painting around to visit anyone willing to talk to him about it.

Shadowheart rolls her eyes at Tav's delighted expression directed her way. Is her amusement truly so hard won?

"I'm still reading," she tells him. "If you take to looming again, I'll never be able to finish."

So chided, Tav returns to discussing the finer details of "sob-jack-teev litneeng" with Scratch. She rather doubts there's been any Potion of Animal Speaking used to aid the process. Good boy that he is, Scratch listens just the same.

Despite the terrible wine, the egregious use of "ron-day-voo," and the knowledge that Gale had, in fact, rehearsed his pronouncement to the group, Shadowheart finds herself still in good humor as she pens a reply. She credits that good humor as the reason she leaves a particularly fine wagon-wreck of errors for someone else to enjoy. Her little gift to Tav.

"Astarion," she calls out. The vampire has spent most of the evening in the other half of her regrettable Arabellan Dry. His mood, already sour for Gale's tale of woe, remains unimproved with drink. Looking up from his irate murmurings about obnoxious wheezards and their secret keeping, Astarion regards her with a questioning eyebrow. "Would you read this bit aloud for me? You've the best handle on Tav's handwriting, I think."

Predictably, Astarion sighs. She might as well have asked him to personally take Toril upon his shoulders and sprint to Baldur's Gate. "I suppose if you require my services…"

"I do," Shadowheart says flatly, concealing her amusement within a pinched smile.

With an offended squawking noise, Tav puts down his painting. She almost feels bad — he's been working very hard on improving his handwriting. "I can read —" he starts.

"— Absolutely not!" Astarion picks up his pace, more eager to read the journal than his tone might imply. The rogue is crouched at Shadowheart's side in seconds. A Tav at full speed couldn't have possibly intercepted him. "In the spirit of friendship, cooperation, and full disclosure," Astarion rakes his glare across Gale's stiffening back across the campfire before plucking the journal from her hands. "I can hardly look away from any call to assist our lovely cleric."

Shadowheart snorts and props her elbow on her knee, so she might rest her cheek against her knuckles. "Yes, yes, I call for your most humble assistance on the paragraph that starts I am good at fisheng."

Clearing his throat to prepare his theater best, Astarion narrows the crimson of his eyes on the particular paragraph at hand, "I am good at fishing," he reads, glancing at her in askance. The handwriting is no better or worse than the rest of the entry, he's realized. Gamely, he continues, "Wyll says it is because — Tav, darling, I appreciate a dramatic pause as well as anyone, but there's really no need to put a period after every instance of because."

Giving up on his own hope of volunteering, Tav tilts his head. "You stop after a because."

"Yes, for drama, not for grammar."

Head still cocked, Tav frowns thoughtfully, "How do I grammar a drama?"

"Write the word bigger?" Karlach suggests.

Perhaps more correctly, Wyll suggests, "An exclamation point."

As Wyll carves out the mark for Tav with a pointed fingernail in the dirt, Astarion continues his reading, "Wyll says it is because, I am calm person can stand in river a lung — long — time. My dear, long for length has an o. With a u, it refers to an organ —"

"—I suppose then there's no difference to be had between them at all," Shadowheart mutters.

"Hah!" Karlach snorts from her spot sprawled out on the ground beside Shadowheart's tent.

"—Which is used to breathe," Astarion drawls, pretending at annoyance. "Is it all Sharrans that have this special understanding of anatomy, or is it your amnesia aiding the implication that some among us can swim backstroke upriver, perfectly able to breathe for as long as our cocks can maintain interest in the task?"

"I'm special," Shadowheart drawls right back at him and empties her glass of wine. Wyll, hero that he is, goes to fetch another bottle from their storage near the potionwork station, leaving Tav to his practice.

In the scant time he's gone, Tav goes from writing long! in the dirt to roughly sketching a wave pattern and a disconcertingly long shape jutting out from it. He points to it, and Astarion is all surprised pleasure, "Yes, that's quite right."

Equally pleased, Tav draws many exclamation points over the picture.

"Perhaps in some respects," Lae'zel sneers from her own tent. There's no compliment to be found in the remark. "Continue reading if you must, Astarion. However, I do not see the appeal of joking about sex instead of having it."

"Perhaps in some respects," Shadowheart raises her empty glass to Lae'zel and smiles with daggers. "Your imagination is lacking."

"Chk."

Astarion peers up from what Shadowheart suspects is an accidentally genuine spot of flirting with Tav (instead of his transparent, hamfisted gambits to seduce Tav). He glances between her and Lae'zel, like he might soon have a brawl to enjoy. Not about to oblige him, she pointedly drags her own stare down to the journal in his hands.

"Yes, yes, both of you are so terrifying and whatnot," Astarion tuts and comes to a stand with the book, now that his audience has grown. "I say it is nice to…" Astarion drops his smarmy expression to squint at the word, then bites down a chuckle to keep reading. He'll crack before the end, Shadowheart has perfect faith of that. "Ron-day-voo with friend in a river. River is cool and nice. Wyll says many stories about Baldur's Gate —" Astarion stops to peer over the journal at Tav, disappointed. "I don't suppose you go back to calling it Baldur's Gayed?"

"Maybe I can," Tav considers, pushing strands of his white hair back behind his ears. As per usual, his long ponytail grows messier with the hour. "If Astarion can shimmy."

That head of well-styled curls retreats very quickly behind the journal to continue, "Wyll teaches I — that should be me, darling. We'll explain that one later."

With an agreeable nod, Tav begins to write out Wyll teeches me. The Wyll in question comes along bearing wine, perfectly in time to correct teeches to teaches.

"Wyll teaches —" Astarion starts and stops, sputtering and pushing his face in close to the page to ensure that he's reading correctly. Knowing full well that he is, Shadowheart smiles as Wyll tops her up with an Ashaba Dusk. It's not any better than the Arabellan Dry, but at least it's different. " — teeches I how to —"

Oblivious to the growing incredulity on Astarion's face and the slight wheeze of his barely contained hysterics, Tav says confidently, "Wyll teaches me how to."

This is more than Astarion can handle, apparently. His white knuckles tremble against the journal's cover and his fang cracks the once determined line of his mouth. A high giggle punches through that fracture, and his shoulders shake with the force of it.

"Astarion?" Wyll asks, likely wondering what could be so funny about fishing.

"Wyll —" Astarion shakes the journal at the man himself, who clutches at his wine glass a little tighter. "Wyll teaches me how to fellate a fish."

It's Wyll's turn to sputter, and with the stumble that follows, wine sloshes from his glass onto Tav's dick drawing, earning sounds of protest from their confused paladin.

Not that the sound lasts long. Very quickly, Tav quiets to watch the boyish, almost goofy smile split across Astarion's face as attentively as he watches the wonders of dinner.

Grinning just like that, Astarion puts enough scandal into his voice to accuse, "Just what are they teaching you on the Frontiers?"

Catching himself, Wyll chuckles through his embarrassment. "…I can say with confidence that practice neither featured in my adventures nor my bawdy novels."

Karlach, who had been laying down with her hands over her face, gives up on muffling her loud bark of a laugh. Mostly because it comes with a bright plume of flame that none of them really think to mind anymore.

Forced to take a seat, a gasping Astarion soldiers on to respond with evidence to the contrary, "We — we fellate —" Astarion cracks again, and the rest of his words come mashed together and muffled by the journal's pages. "…Many fish for a dinner."

"Such a highly inefficient mode of fishing would be istik practice," Lae'zel grouses about the matter. And the sheer indignation in her tone cracks Shadowheart into raucous laughter. That this puts Wyll, Karlach, and Astarion into renewed mirth doesn't calm her irritated befuddlement any.

Shadowheart spares a glance for poor Tav, who looks confused but amused by this turn of events. For all they tease him, she appreciates the sweet-tempered man she's beginning to think of as a friend. He never minds being the butt of a joke, so long as it is well received. It's likely for Lae'zel's sake that he picks up Shadowheart's empty wine glass to mime a cutting motion.

"Fellate?" Tav says with an easy smile, gesturing a slice down the middle, as though holding a knife.

"Fillet," Lae'zel realizes with a start. It might be a trick of the firelight, but she thinks she sees Lae'zel's mouth twitch once she understands their laughter.

Astarion sits up to swipe the empty wine bottle from Tav. With a cheeky grin, he says, "Fellate." The follow up performance of a rather thorough mimicry of fellatio makes the vocabulary quite clear.

Damnable rogues. She's forced to cover her mouth with a fist.

Then Tav claps when he gets it, smiling in the contented way he does. "Wow," he adds, and that doesn't help either. "I understand."

"Astarion — What in Vangerdahast's thundering spellbook are you doing to that poor bottle?!" Gale says, scandalized when he arrives with the small bottle of weedsap he promised.

"Nothing you would learn in a spellbook, wheezard," Astarion says smugly.

With a smile nowhere as innocent as it looks, Tav says, "Fishing, wheezard."

Even Astarion's self-satisfied expression melts into giggles for that one, forcing him to lay back on the ground, where he splits the journal over his laughing face. Tav plucks it off him to lazily fan the flames of Karlach's mirth away.

"You're an idiot, my dear," Astarion says, his voice beaten soft enough to make that sound like a rather pleasant creature to be.

"You cannot shimmy," Tav informs Astarion fondly. When Astarion parts his fingers to look at Tav, finding him all a-shimmy brings about fresh laughter, head back and loud. Shadowheart could count every tooth in his head, if she were inclined to do anything but laugh with them.

There's no pain in her hand, not yet, but it will come as sure as night will fall. For now, she calms herself enough to get off her feet and see everyone with a fresh pour.

By the time she rounds to Astarion, Karlach and Tav are trying to endear Gale to a spot of shimmying with minimal yet entertaining success and Wyll and Lae'zel are discussing their filleting techniques, probably.

"Ron-day-voo with terrible wine," she asks the pale elf, who would still be rosy in the aftershocks of laughter if he could be. Instead, his mouth twitches and his shoulders quake when something sparks his memory of aquatic oral.

"Gods," Astarion breathes, not even managing to sound affronted as he thrusts out his glass and declares. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

She gives him a decent pour and leaves herself the bottom of the bottle. It's all awful anyway. "I would never," she says primly. "Where's your evidence."

Halfway through his thorough lambasting of the evidence, her hand starts to ache. Astarion notices, hard not to she supposes, with how she can't help but clutch it. But he keeps talking, loud and theatrical in a way that welcomes her to hide in the shadows of it.