Chapter Text
When she tells the tale at a later date, Era will despair about her rather unheroic escape from the Mindflayer’s Pod, the artless manner in which the explosion that frees her throws her across the room. And yet, despite all her grumblings and apparent dismay, whenever Astarion or Shadowheart— or even Wyll, their very own Blade of the Frontiers— suggests that she embellish the tale to fit the narrative of a rising hero, the bard will roll her eyes and comment that it is the accuracy of the tale she cares for, not how foolish the truth might make her look. History is not a fairytale, after all, and like it or not, they have all made history.
It’s lucky, too, that she cares more about recording the truth than anything else, for she can’t deny that there are times when she comes across as more of a jester than anything else. If Era were even slightly more self-conscious about coming across as foolish, she would be a puddle of shame on the floor every time she reminisced of her actions, but she is not. How could she be? A jester’s demeanor is a bard’s most subtle weapon, the ability to be forgotten because their behavior makes it inconceivable that they are anything else but an entertainer, a tool like no other.
A prejudice, perhaps, but one that many bards use to their advantage.
Obviously, not all of the times she clowned around were warranted, but well, with the weight of a possible gruesome death on her shoulders, she had the right to be a little silly, and erasing those times from the final narrative of their journey didn’t seem right. Not when the brief times were levity crossed the thresholds of their camp meant everything, not when it allowed for her companions’ shoulders to drop ever so slightly, the tension draining from their frames as they were amused by their antics.
Making Lae’zel snort is still one of her greatest accomplishments. And if she had to portray herself as a clown for it?
It was worth it in the end. Even if it takes away some of the mystique that has been built around the legend she has become entirely by accident. Even if it humanizes her when, according to legend, heroes are meant to be something else entirely.
And well, it is not that she believes that truth will set her free— she is not that much of a goody-two-shoes, Astarion—, but that she would much rather provide a truthful account first, and allow fellow bards the privilege to immortalize her hero’s journey on embellished prose. Era can’t do it herself, not when trying to self-aggrandize her own journey leaves her feeling off put and vaguely nauseous. It’s too odd, really, to write about her weeks as a tadpole host with a rose tinted glow, when every moment had been underlined by mounting dread and the fear of being too slow.
That, and well, she always did find it ever so fucking frustrating when songs or tales were drenched in bias and she could not find a single fucking first hand account attempting to give a faithful retelling of the events.
The less she says about Karsus’ Folly, the better.
Surely she can do better than that, Era insists to Gale while the wizard sighs fondly and takes up their debate regarding perspective and belief once more.
And so, Era keeps the artless explosion within her writings, she explains the rather embarrassing tumbling and scrambling to ensure her most valuable possessions remain with her that followed the Nautiloid’s impromptu trip into the Avernus.
Not that she notices the change in plane, though.
Embarrassingly enough, it takes her a surprisingly long time to understand the implications of having escaped the pod. It takes her even longer to find the exit, even longer then, to realize that somehow the ship had left Faerûn behind and entered the first of the Hells of Baator.
In her defense, Karlach dearest, she had been a tad distracted for the first hour after her escape. Her curiosity-driven compulsion to loot all the bodies around her, as well as picking and prodding at all the possible chests and controls around the room keeps her away from the dawning reality, but well—
You never know when you need a brain in a jar, or two, right?