I have a hard time picturing Tiamat writing anything. Ideally, it'll be Tiamat dictating to one of her servants.
Me too, so I asked ChatGPT for help:
Tiamat’s Journal – Entry #987,904
Bahamut gets a statue and I get another mortal summoning with bad lighting.
Ugh. Tuesday.
Woke up in Avernus. Again. Honestly, I thought being imprisoned in the Nine Hells would have
more flair by now. Same sulfur. Same endless screaming. Same soul bargains brokered over tepid lava lattes.
My red head wants bloodshed. My blue head wants a mimosa. Black’s sulking (again), white is trying to eat the couch, and green won’t stop hissing about “mortals with attitude.” Frankly, I need a vacation. Or a continent to conquer. Whichever comes first.
Another warlock came groveling today—third one this week. Same pitch:
“Oh mighty Tiamat, great chromatic queen, empower me to smite mine enemies.” Please. At least bring
snacks if you're going to interrupt my afternoon with desperate oaths and unresolved mommy issues.
I told him I'd consider it if he fetched me a genuine ruby the size of a pony and
stopped referring to my heads as a "branding problem." He seemed confused. I banished him. Green said I should’ve let him suffer longer. I told her we have
standards.
Meanwhile, Bahamut’s out there doing his whole “shining paragon of justice” routine again. He rescued a village or gave a sermon or hatched a baby bird or whatever. Honestly, it’s exhausting. I’d smite him just to shut him up, but then he’d probably just reincarnate as something smug.
Anyway. That’s the day. Tomorrow I might devour a kingdom if I can muster the energy. Or reorganize the treasure hoard. Something cathartic.
Remind me to get new servants. The last ones melted. Apparently “don’t open the acid chamber” wasn’t specific enough.
—T
P.S. Still not over the fact that
Bahamut has worship music and I have cultists who wear bones like accessories. Mortals have no taste.