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 #5
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March the Fifth:

Success! It is just after midnight. I need sleep. My head hurts unlike anything I've ever experienced. My eyes can barely focus. Rabab is exhausted as well, but doing better than at the start. In the beginning, nothing made sense to her. Her fear was intense, and she fought the transformation. Slowly, though, her intelligence grew as the manuals said it would. She began to realize that she was changing, and I could begin to sense her emotions directly. She won't be able to speak with me for some time, but I talked to her as much as possible nevertheless. "Relax, Rabab, relax. You are about to become the most powerful of Sakers." Slowly, as she gained true intelligence, she seemed to understand, and then she even began to work with me as I chanted the incantations. She moved less, concentrated on my eyes instinctively, and she accepted the powders and oils without complaint.

By the end, I could feel the wonder in her as she took in her surroundings with a new degree of insight and understanding. Her excitement was palpable, though she needed sleep as badly as I. She wanted to fly, to see the world with new eyes! "When we awake, Rabab. I promise. The whole world awaits us both."

March the Sixth:

Rabab is impatient, but I do not blame her. I can see that she wants to understand everything she once took as given. I've let her fly high above us as I write this. We are on the road to Gront once more. The small magical creatures overrunning Pavalar have led us to seek out a wizard who lives on the outskirts of that town. I hope that we apply the proper degree of stealth and tact to this visit. With Vernon and Kestrel along, no doubt we shall not.

We have met a most curious person, a gnome, who is traveling with us. He is a credit to his race, a master of mechanics and physics. I mean to entice him with my anto. We shall see if he takes the bait!

Wonder of wonders, the gnome knew of the anto's origins! And what's more, he intimated that he had seen actual Drow in his homeland to the north! No friend of the Dark Elves is he, that much is obvious. I feigned innocence of their very existence, saying that my little 'bow was a favored weapon of some friends I had made in Palomar's Thieves' Guild.

The little gnome soon forgot any Drow-inspired suspicions and was more than happy to expound upon his theories of construction, miniaturization of components, mechanics -- most particularly, gears -- and metallurgy. This latter, he explained, is an intuitive art of the gnomes -- and of the Drow! -- I understand now! The two races may share mutual hatred for each other, but they share more than that. His explanations shed light on at least a dozen vague and veiled Drow treatises that Mother had found for me over the years. Where the Drow speak in flowery language, the gnomes are plain, but they speak the same words! Their craft is known to each other, or else descends from some common source! I must seek out more gnomes. Speaking with but a single craftsman of their kind has made clear the Drow's technique of constructing the Anto Dray'aln! Here is the mechanism the little gnome described for the folding of the arms, the spring release, the tensioner, the opposing tangs of the blades... everything... the whole design.... I can build it in my mind!