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Another birch bark... letter? Moreover, with characters already known to you. I didn’t redraw it, sorry, just keep the text and translation.

==CAUTION DEFENSE VOCABULARY==

Front side:

“Be strong, come on!” And if you answer us truthfully: are you a good friend, or are you lying on your side? Here's what we say: take courage, come, and Lodn with me, and let's direct our steps in the direction of Stursk. Well, you see, because you can direct your dicks - now the day will come, and how gloomy will I see your face? So be it, let me tell you my news and shit on your head, forget your friend and leave them in the land of strangers. From Pistrago and Virꙗza, from Khvarsh.”

Reverse side:

“Greetings from Skapataros! Pray mightily to Ohrmazda, and yours will dry up and die in stone for the words that we speak. Neither can you walk on the ground, nor can you fly anywhere: the gestures of the midnight wind from the air of winter will come and will sweep away from the earth together. There was snow, but two days ago the God of Wisdom had mercy and the heat came. Wait, my friend, it’s not far off.”

Translation:

“Be strong, Emed! But answer me truthfully: are you a good friend to me or a hair-fucking (???) couch potato? After all, he told me this: I will come in Berezna - and Lodin with me - and we will direct our steps to the Stur country. I see that you can only direct your dick - for pollen has already arrived today, and how can I see your vile face? I ask this swift bird to give you my message and shit on your head, because you forgot your [two] friends and left them in a foreign land. From Motley and Virjaz, from Khvarsh.”

“Greetings from Skaptaros! I strongly pray to Ohrmazd that your eggs dry up and turn into stones for the words that you spoke to me. We can neither walk on the ground nor fly in the clouds: cruel northern winds with winter weather came here and confused us [the two] along with the earth. We were covered with snow, and only two days ago the God of Wisdom had mercy on us and sent a mighty heat. Wait for us, friend, we’ll be leaving soon.”

We are sitting under the roof, Andryusha is again scribbling something in concentration on his blog, the rain is noisy on the metal tiles no worse than the Geart national drummer ensemble. I’m honestly trying to untangle my wet beard, which is curled like a small demon - after all, Dverg hair is not adapted to a sharp increase in humidity in the air; the Kiyatland neighbor is torturing his ocarina, blowing something like “too, too-doo-doo, too, too-doo-too, too-doo-doo, too-do-too-too-too,” honestly trying to look in his checkered plaid like one of his heroic Kiyatland ancestors, about whom he buzzed the ears of everyone who was unlucky enough to be paired with him... The only thing that gets in the way is that the main colors of the blanket are pink and light green.

The tea is strongly brewed, black as Andryusha’s thoughts about bacon at three in the morning, burns his hands even through the tin sides of the mug. Take a sip - the juniper-smelling heat will spread through your nerves and veins, warming your body and soul - the old recipe of the Rushkaronzavas does not misfire. At first the guys were suspicious, but now they can’t be pulled away by the ears - a few spoons of the family tincture in a teapot turns a simple drink into a healing elixir worthy of the Ancestress herself.

In a day or two, everything will return to normal: the scorching sun, the muscles aching pleasantly in the evening and the shovel shaft polished by the palms in the hands.

In the meantime, you can drink tea and listen to the rain.

Traven, save you for being you.

Yesterday, for example, there was terrible heat - so much so that I had to put on a hat. Can you imagine a bald dog wearing a cap? I’m not very good either, but I had to. At least my back doesn’t burn, and I’m grateful for that.

But this morning, from the very morning, nothing foreshadowed trouble: rare clouds were flying somewhere in the sky, a light breeze was blowing and everything was very calm. And then at two o’clock in the afternoon, WHY THE FUCK YOU DON’T WANT IT TO RAIN, DO YOU? This damn downpour was so strong that within five minutes we were literally walking up to our ankles in mud, running all over the excavation site and swearing incoherently, trying to protect our equipment and other important items from the water.

Ask: what about magical barriers and other similar crap? It is strictly forbidden to use magic at an excavation site, especially in such a place. I have already written about interference, but we never want catastrophic consequences. I want to return home sooner or later safe and sound, and the prospect of being washed away by a tsunami rising from a puddle nearby is not at all inspiring.

Now, of course, we are all already under the roof - we are sitting, wrapped in a dozen warm blankets, and drinking tea. It looks like we'll have a couple of unplanned days off.

We dedicate this post to our dear chief of the expedition, Edevran Samuilovich. However, he is unlikely to read it - he does not read our blog out of principle.

Perhaps this is the only one Human Alv, who could quietly be indignant at the fact that students were digging bare-chested - not because it was cold, it was windy, they might catch a cold, etc. - because it did not correspond to his ideas about, I quote, “the aesthetics of the composition of the excavation.”

It was Edevran Samuilovich who was the one who swore at us with words that both people and the elders of antiquity hardly knew - but he was also the one who (I suspect, using the same expressions) managed to achieve that our salary was increased by one and a half times.

Edevran Samuilovich is the character whose sophisticated and graceful appearance hides the spirit of an old-school boatswain. Or even a whole ensign.

And also, Edevran Samuilovich - if it suddenly happens that you still read this post, I will remind you once again: no, in principle, Gearts do not need clothes. Even for those who do not have wool, perhaps some kind of jacket in severe frosts. Even if you scream, even if you beg, I will never put a shirt on myself.

Come back quickly, Edevran Samuilovich, we miss you.

And we decided to have a little fun in our free time. A Christian priestly robe from the same period was reconstructed. It was then not much different from ordinary civilian clothing and consisted of an undertunic (tunica linea, made of linen), outer tunic (tunica, usually made of wool) and a lacerne cloak (lacerna). The top two items of clothing were almost always whitened. There were no embroideries, patterns and all sorts of similar things then - they came much later.

Some topical news about what not to do with historical monuments. In no case do I want to stir up anything and, being a Catholic, I treat all religions with respect, but this is just meh.

The proofs are again in Rechansky, so I’ll tell you this: there was a pagan settlement in the Irakli region, it didn’t bother anyone. But then some clever people came and made a mound there (!), built steps (!!) and erected a chapel to Our Lady Esther (!!!). We are enclosing photos for you of how it was and how it turned out.

Proof