This is the second time recently that Astarion's been tossed unceremoniously into unfamiliar lands with complete strangers, and he can't say the experience is growing on him. Some fusty old god must be angry at him for something.

And he's not alone here. That's the only thing that kept him from panicking. Not because he's afraid of a bit of haunted scenery, it was the memory loss that had given him a fright. But the fact that he wasn't the only one feeling a little hazy meant that it wasn't one of the symptoms.

That made this only an annoyance rather than a catastrophe. He even managed to con the bandits into letting him keep most of his things. They were keeping their distance, eying his pack, no doubt worrying about the terribly cursed book they'd found in it. They'd treated him more gently since then.

Although the forest was certainly trying to make up for it. He made an undignified little noise as he was pushed, just barely keeping his balance thanks to bouncing off a tree. Ugh.

"Five gold says there's a spike pit somewhere," he says breezily, dusting himself off. The effort doesn't do much except rearrange the dirt. "And we haven't seen anything of the people who made these things." The bandits didn't seem to know where they were either, otherwise they wouldn't be driving the captives ahead of them. "As treats go, I'm sure they're delicious."