Eladrin Warlord who utilized self-deprecation to inspire himself and his allies.

Cah’s Journal

Miercoles, el 23 of Marzo (morning)

For the first time since we have come to this strange land, I feel like myself. Today, my companions and I fought a kaelol chieftan and his minions. They fell like leaves before our effortless assault. After falling so ignominiously against that giant spider, I led the assault that saved Tahlavain from his own foolishness (more on that later). My blade work opened up openings that my companions gleefully exploited. On one swing, I was pretty sure that Jihad was going to hit himself in the foot with that mighty axe of his until I gently nudged the Kaelol into its path.

As for my companions themselves…Tahlavain is a fool and a sadist. Not only did he carelessly rush into the kaelol’s lair, but I have seen him slay an unarmed cowering goblin. I used to believe that Gruumsh and Corellon where just stories made up to explain the long and brutal conflict between our peoples. Neither is evil, rather they represent each race’s view of the war and justify the xenocidal atrocities that both have committed. While recent events may have changed my mind about Corellon and Gruumsh, I still believe that no race is truly evil. And if Tahlavain is any indication, no race is truly good. We have one of the little goblins with us. I can see why he enrages Tahlavain. He’s a cowering, whimpering sort named Zongo. Not bad with a crossbow though.

Mutu is a bit sullen, taken to believing in his dark dreams and still mourning the loss of his tribe. I sympathize of course, but sympathy won’t get us out of this place.

Lately, Jihad has not been the stiffly formal paladin that I have come to know. He has become impetuous, rushing into combat and has been brutally beaten for it. Still he gets up every time. It’s almost as though he’s become more like Tahlavain. Perhaps he is…what’s the word…”bewitched”.

Lunes, 21 of Marzo

We headed towards the town, only to be accosted by a group of strange lizard like creatures. “Kobolds” Mutu called them.

A few of them came charging at us. They shifted and danced like nothing I’ve seen before, but battle is battle, and I know how to take down nimble foes.

But then … something. The final kobold attacked us with some kind of energy. I’ve never seen it’s like. We managed to kill it alright, even after it breathed fire. If my words seem unbelievable it is because I scarcely believe them myself.

I was deeply troubled by what I had witnessed, but I hid my discomfort as we entered the town. The humans did not seem overly suspicious of three hooded figures, but warily eyed our elven escort. A human-elf crossbreed in the town spoke our language, but was none too friendly. The human lord was more outgoing, and asked us to clean out a den of the kobolds we had seen before.

But first things first. Tahlavain and Jihad wanted to run off and kill the beasts, but I convinced them of our obligations to Mutu. He was pleased, and it’s vital that we keep our only friend in this strange world happy. So, following some information from a local farmer, we headed to a funeral barrow to look for Mutu’s sister.

There we found some grave robbers. One of whom was a small creature who was able to disapppear at will. This is…too much. I know what this means, but it is difficult to accept. This looks like magic. The old arts that seemed to have left with Correlon flourish here. And what that means I can not explain. But I will find out. This magic may be the key to the survival of our race.



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