Bedwyr's Scribbles is a book written by Bedwyr that is found in the enchanter room on the second floor of the Phoenix Inn in the Great Market district of Aleroth during the events of Divinity II: Flames of Vengeance.


How the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head the day that Hannibal locked me up in this room. Both enchanters, we used to be the best of friends; exchanging tips and drinks, women and wine. Until the day of the contest came, and jealousy made a mockery of our friendship.

Had Hannibal planned this all along? To gain my love and trust so that I would follow him to Hell and back? For that is one trip I have certainly made now, in the most literal ways conceivable to man. With a necromancer's potion, I have defeated Death. But the flesh did succumb to Father Time, leaving me, Bedwyr, an uncomely carcass in an unnatural mimicry of life.

Yet I still cannot swallow this idea of Hannibal's betrayal, if it be truth, for we were like brothers. People even taunted us and made fun of what we had. They ridiculed our "bromance".

Yet only moments after locking me up, so did he fall to his death and I can hear him haunting this very inn still. Is it irony that got him? Sweet justice? The Gods in their omniscient wisdom punishing him for what he had done and how that would affect the future of a successful enchanter such as I? Oh yes, I hear him haunting this very inn still, yet he is nothing like I remember him. He's not at all fun and games: it's not all just dolls and just dames. His ghastly apparition is a cheap imitation of the Hannibal I knew: a farce.

How I have longed for this door to open, and how often I have gone through all the words I'd say to Hannibal. I have recited poems of love and forgiveness and I have practiced diatribes of hate and punishment. In my dreams, I have committed amicable acts of affection and I have carried out vile acts of revenge.

I have embraced him, and I have shacked him.
I have ordered his favourite drink, and I have seared his flesh with a branding iron.
I have taken him to Madame Eve's, and I have impaled his eyes with metal prongs.
I have talked favourably to the girl he desires, and I have locked him in the Iron Maiden.
I have tucked him in after milk and cookies, and I have laid him in a coffin laced with spikes.
I have prepared his favourite dinner, and I have sewn his mouth shut.

(This list goes on and on, and finally ends with crucifixion, at which point Bedwyr turned philosophical and started another list of some sort of religious doctrine about how mankind will always end up crucifying their loved ones and how that does not differ much from elvenkind and dwarvenkind.)

– Bedwyr's Scribbles, Divinity II: Flames of Vengeance