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 #10
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April the Twelfth

Some Belar taskmaster in school long ago tried to explain to me that humility is a virtue. At the time, I thought his words simply another of their constant attempts to control humans. Now I see that perhaps there was some wisdom in those words.

My beautiful anto, so carefully crafted and refined over all these years, is simply not the correct tool for the dangerous work of adventuring. The little weapon may serve the Drow well in the darkness of their underground cities, and it may be useful in certain cases for intimidating the weak or cowardly, but it is nearly useless against a mindless brute who can only be taken down through sheer force.

I must put pride aside and approach my predicament with an open mind. I have seen the sort of damage Vaugner can deal with his long bow. I'm nearly as strong as he, and so I can use a bow with almost as great a pull. My martial training is sufficient to use the longbow, and my training with close-quarters combat with my anto will carry over to the more traditional bow.

It is time to pick up the commoner's longbow and put it to good use. It is a less elegant weapon, and certainly takes less finesse than a well-made anto, but its speed and stopping power are unmatched. I will stop in the next large city we visit and pick up a well-made specimen.

All is not lost, however, with my anto. I can still continue to improve it, and perhaps it can be turned to some advantage. There are a few who know its origin. Perhaps I can take advantage of this by crafting a bit of rumor about myself. Perhaps the little bow was taken from the corpse of a strange, dark-skinned elf that I was forced to kill in hand-to-hand combat one night in the wilds.

"What did he look like?" you ask. "Let's have another drink and I'll tell you. Ah, that's better... Now, unfortunately, I didn't pay much attention to anything other than avoiding his blades. It was dark, and once I killed him I did not wish to tarry. He fought hard and well, and I could not tell if he might have been a scout or vanguard of a larger force. Don't elves always travel in numbers? In any case, exhausted from our battle, I did not wish to find out. But he had ears that were unmistakably elven and skin as dark as any I've seen. Very odd for an elf, don't you think? Looked like maybe he had been living in some dank forest where the sun rarely shines. No matter, I've never met another like him, and I do like the workmanship on this little crossbow of his. Rather nice, don't you agree?"