Welcome to The Chosen's journals. Each character is invited to keep a journal and write down the thoughts of their characters as they wander through Nyternia. In addition, the DM has a journal which highlights each session. The players are:

Blink - monk Errol - bard
Kestrel - fighter Malif - wizard
Vaugner - rogue Vernon - cleric/sorcerer

Choose a journal:   Select a session:

Malif's Journal, session #1
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February the Twenty-First:

"One world, many wonders." Isn't that the phrase from old? This night I'm outside the City. Not in the Outer City. Outside the City! What's more, Final Examinations are waived... by order of the Mighty Belar. And I am on a mission working on behalf of Tera herself. With a party of would-be adventurers no less!

No tedious tests, but no fanfare either. I'm an Initiate of the First Circle, I suppose. This morning, when I went to collect my things in preparation for leaving I found my spellbook in my room open to a new page, but with no note, no word at all -- except there were the seven spells I discussed at length with Master Hijadi. The seven I intended to take upon Initiation. They looked as if I had written them myself, and I think I know my own hand by now! But, I swear I did not scribe them. I studied over the last, Ico Verus. The symbols coalesced in my mind with ease, no more difficultly than a does a cantrip, but with more... closure. I could not resist.... I snatched up my belongings and headed out to Hanbar's shop. After all, I would need my 'bow.

Hanbar was drunk, as usual, and sound asleep. I borrowed a copper from his purse, and found my 'bow. The symbols poured forth as if they wanted escape from my mind and the words flew from my lips. The bow in my hand felt light, not absent, just light and yet solid at the same time. My eyes seemed anxious for a target, and I tossed Hanbar's copper across the room, raising my 'bow at the same time. The bolt flew and I heard the iron-shod head strike the coin, deflecting its path. Wondrous! For a moment, I pictured myself in a training circle somewhere deep underground with Zaknafein the Elder watching over me as I lower my legere anto and reload. He smiles a thin smile, the first I have ever seen, and tells me that's enough for the day. I may go.

February the Twenty-Second:

Tera has included Blink, Errol, Kestral, Vaugner, and Vernon in this newly formed party of unsung heroes. Why she did not include any of the girls, I do not know. Maybe she thinks Vaugner and I would be too much for any one of them out here alone! He, too crass, and I, too charming! Ha! Too bad she didn't include Kendra, though. She's as quick as any of us and silver-tongued to boot! We wouldn't need the hundred gold Tera entrusted us with. With Kendra along, our hosts would be paying us to stay in their inns!

In any case, the party Tera selected is strong enough. A good blend of talents, and that's probably why Kendra was left behind. Can't afford too many wizardlings before you're starting to get unbalanced. Should be good fun to see how everyone gets on. Especially Errol! The great outdoors is killing him, at least to hear him tell it! No featherbed, no lamb's wool blankets, no teatime with the professors! Ah, but he'll soon toughen up. He nearly matched us in drink last night, and Vaugner was none too kind with his choice of beverage for young Errol, yet he looked fit enough this morning! There's certainly hope for him!

February the Twenty-Third:

Today I am thankful I was not born a Drow. Not because their lives are unpleasant, a perpetual state of civil war and familial strife. Not because their males are treated no better than slaves. No, today I am glad I was not born a Drow because their histories show they rarely tolerate failure, and my first combat has been that. An unqualified failure.

Yes, we killed two strange, cloven-hoofed beasts in the night, and drove off another, badly wounded, no doubt. But no thanks to my meager skills or to my Drow-inspired weapon. Had I faired so poorly in my first Drow raiding party, I would probably have been sacrificed to their hated Spider Queen!

The whole melee happened very quickly. I was barely awake before it was over. From a crouch, I managed to get off two shots with my legere anto and missed wildly with both. Shameful, really. I find it's quite a different thing firing in combat. Not like fence posts back with Jules in the Outer City. Everything moves all the time, friend and foe alike. At least fence posts have the courtesy to hold still!

It's clear to me now, as well, that my anto is underpowered. The blows it took to fell the one creature we killed were far beyond the damage my simple bolts can do. Something I've been reading for years now makes sense: the cotto that I easily copied are not the same as the de'cotto mentioned in some of the more obscure tomes. They aren't synonyms as I had assumed. They're classifications! The de'cotto must be empowered bolts, shafts made more potent with Art! It would be just like the Drow historians to omit the specifics of the magical enhancements that a feared warrior might have used. To do otherwise would call into question that warrior's prowess -- a poor choice for a historian, as long as his subject or his subject's House still existed. Instead, the recorder mentions only de'cotto in passing, leaving the reader the possibility of believing that the phenomenal shots were entirely skill. And what's more, I'll wager that all that flowery language describing their kills really describes particular spells -- if you know what to look for! When we get back home, I've got to get Mother to "borrow" a few of those tomes. A re-reading should be most interesting, especially as my knowledge of spells grows. And then, if my suspicions are correct, there will be more tomes to discover. Somewhere there must be details of the arcane manufacture of de'cotto! Ah, now that would be a prize!