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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:
Malif's Journal, session #26 Go to Session #: 0 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 39 | 40 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 56 | 58 | 59 | We appear to have something of a death wish. Wherever we go, we hear the cry from certain members of our group: "Let us defend these poor souls and save them!" The foe might be lycanthropes, it might be minotaurs, but the result is the same: we enter into some foolhardy fight with little or nothing to gain and our lives to lose. One day, one day soon, we shall lose. How and why we survived the minotaurs continues to baffle me. We were outnumbered greatly, yet bowmen -- our should I say bow-minotaurs -- held their fire until late in the battle. Axemen never rushed, and spellcasters wasted time and energy on setting the village alight when the bowman with their flaming arrows would have sufficed. Rabab spotted a sabotage squad of eight of their kind behind us and their leader calmly watching the carnage unfold from a hilltop. The eight never bothered to engage us, even after their target, the town's granary, was in flames. Inexplicably, their entire force retreated even when it should have been clear to their tactical genius that our spells were exhausted. After all, Fireballs became Magic Missiles as Pyrotechnics and Entangle threatened to render me completely ineffective. My plan quick turned to saving myself and Kestrel, who was greviously wounded, with my only Dimension Door.
Vaugner, Kestrel and I have been talking, and we have a new strategy,
one that I hope will replace the "final stand" tactic that we are so
fond of employing. We intend to strike our foe in brief sorties from
afar. Whittle them down, so to speak. Weaken their morale. We have
three days until they reach the southern town. Three days to thin
their ranks and give them pause to question their attack. We shall see
if we succeed. If we are not standing at the town entrance in three
days time awaiting a grim attack, we shall know that we have finally
learned our lesson.
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