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Warm Thoughts in a Cold Place
Mirilda missed home. That is not a sentiment that she ever thought she would feel. From the near-unbearable heat to the blistering cold, being surrounded by monsters and demons, the three months abyss was really wearing her down. Everywhere in this hell was just oppressive. And they were still six-months behind on Lythos’s path.

Even the six month’s in the Barrows to did affect her like this. At least there, they had breaks with visits to Yroc’s Harbor. And back in the Barrows adventuring days, she did not have a home to yearn to return to.

Since the built their keep at First Light, the Unchained still adventured, but they were always shorter excursions. They were never gone too long. Now, don’t misinterpret this as Mirilda’s love of adventuring was starting to wane. She still loved adventuring, it was truly her passion. However, she just preferred shorter, frequent adventures now.

It was not necessarily the keep she missed, but the people in it. More particularly, Leon’s children. Mirilda was never what you would call demonstrative, in fact, calling her stoic would be understatement. However, when Tas and Tor yell, “Auntie Mirilida!” and throw their arms around her when they return from one of their trips, her heart just swelled.

Mirilda did not desire to have her own children. However, the hours she would spend watching Tas, Tor and little Tack play would bring her immeasurable joy. She used the memory of these times to keep her warm during the long, cold days in the Iron Wastes.
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Lost


Boudica winced as another drip of cold water spattered against her nose. While the snow cave was warmer than a tent, its downside was that the warmth and perspiration caused the ceiling to sweat and drip. She reached down and rubbed her numb feet until the sharp evanescing pain beneath her skin told her that life was returning to them. She looked at her companions in the murky light of the tallow candle that burned in the center of the cave. Their downcast eyes and pluming breath, their huddled postures and gaunt expressions told her that they were as miserable as she was.

Boudica shivered, tried to push back the hopelessness she felt growing within her. The days of wandering the Iron Wastes had battered and drained her more than any of the battles the Unchained had fought. The blind waves of boiling snow, the constant frostburn on her face, the labor of each step as she plunged to her knee into the snow, dragged her leg out and took another step. Her breath froze onto her eyelids, blurring what little she could see in front of her until her eyes froze shut and she was forced to remove a glove and gouge away the ice while her fingers swiftly went numb. But worse of all was the exhaustion, the hollow weariness that she felt in every bone and every muscle. It got worse with every step she took, and the fitful sleep and meager rations she so looked forward to at the end of each day did little to restore her.

The thought of food stirred her stomach, and she thought of the many feasts she had enjoyed back at Last Light. In her frustration and ennui, she had taken them for granted, but now she would give anything for a slice of warm, crusty bread slathered with butter or a trencher of roast garlic and turnips. The night before, she had experienced one of the most erotic dreams she’d ever known, but it had not been about any of her past lovers. It had been about Ula’s pastries.

Boudica pulled her cloak around her as tightly as she could, lay down. She knew that she would be readjusting it throughout the night as cold air seeped in and chilled her, and that she would be twisting and shifting to avoid the wet of the packed snow floor. What she would give for dry place to sleep where the cold did not torment her.

Tomorrow we will find the river, she told herself. She had told herself that every night, and it was beginning to feel hollow and meaningless, but she repeated it nonetheless. Boudica looked again at her companions, wondered if this party that had won so many deadly battles with such unimaginably powerful foes would meet its end in the cold snows of this place. Gone without as much as a whimper, frozen and snowed over and forgotten.

No, she told herself. They would prevail. Somehow. Boudica closed her eyes, prepared herself for a night that was nearly as harrowing as the day.

Session: Game Session 32 - Saturday, Dec 30 2017 from 9:00 AM to 3:00 PM
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Undead already.
Letting the red wizard take the lead seems like the optimal strategy as judging by the looks I am getting it would be trouble if I spoke out of turn. Hope we leave soon as time is of the essence!
Session: Game Session #31 - Thursday, Jan 11 2018 from 5:30 PM to 8:30 PM
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Armor Regained?
A suit of armor? Why armor? Why, of all things, armor designed for an antipaladin?

I don't even know how to use armor this heavy. Well, okay, academically yes; but put me in it, and I can't move properly; it gets in the way. I might be just as hard to hurt - it's very good armor - but I'd be clumping around missing everything I tried to swing at.

Was this armor of use to me in the recent past? Had I, in fact, fallen so catastrophically? If I put it on, would I find I knew how to move in it after all? Am I so susceptible to the allure of evil acts? If I am, or I was, why does Irori look on me with favor again now?

I must ask Keldon if he knows anything about this. I must see if I can find out when and where this armor was made, and whether it was designed for me, or merely designed for someone near my build and later adjusted to fit me so perfectly. Or...could I, perhaps, have been replaced by a doppelganger somehow, perhaps of a different sort from those at the asylum? A chilling thought, to be sure, but...could we all? What if all the things we have been told of ourselves were actually the acts of beings who merely looked like us? I cannot decide whether that thought is comforting or not.

I pray to Irori, to my ancestors, and to any other bright deity who might intercede on my behalf: ward me from the influence of evil, that I might not find myself able to use armor such as this...
Session: The Thrushmoor Terror, session 4 - Saturday, Jan 20 2018 from 10:00 AM to 6:00 PM
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Tags: Journal , Pace , Recap
Yokka hate this
Yokka starting to think he never going to see the glorious flying city of Yellyark again. Stupid tall folk kidnap Yokka and drag him through the swamps and rivers. We leave the smelly human camp and Yokka hope he never go back there. Why humans so stupid? We attacked by zombies...again. The big folk able to slay them all. Yokka hope one of them die but they seem like living. The sooner they all die, the sooner Yokka go back home! They want go top of tall flat land, but there nothing up there but rocks and wind. We climb and climb and climb and then giant bird lizards swoop down on us. Yokka find a nice hidey hole in the rocks. No get eaten if can’t be seen. Yokka watch the tall folk get tossed around by the sky lizards. They pick up snake man and drop him off cliff - hooray, maybe he die! Then falls magic human and the new guy over the edge. All except turtle man - he too fat. But he dumb too! Turtle man jump off cliff after lizard. Up and down the tall folk climb until all the bird lizards dead. Too bad. Yokka wonder if the bird lizard tasty. Keep climb until Yokka see piles and piles of skulls! That what humans get! At the top of tall flat land we see far. The jungle big and hide many secrets for goblin to plunder. Tall folk talk about what they see - Ziggurat, crashed airship, floating rock. They think Yellyark like floating rock. What stupids! We go to only house on mountain. Crazy old granny there. She probably eat us later. Tall folk talk about Ronzy or something, Yokka no get human names. Ronzy disgraced, Ronzy make zombies, Ronzy go south, blah, blah, blah. Boring!

Yokka sleep with one eye open that night. Yokka sure granny will eat him. Weird lights in the distance wake everyone up. Yokka no wait around to find out. Yokka go hide behind pile of skulls! Gross flesh monster attack tall folk and then granny attack as well! Yokka always right. New guy put spell on turtle man and turtle man throw monster into hole in ground. The other magic human make fireball in the hole to fry monster. Snake man kill granny and Yokka think everything okay. But then monster climb out and grab magic man! Finally maybe he die! But he live. Yokka disappointed.

Next day, Yokka useful - Yakka find cave to explore! But then there more bird lizards in there. Yokka really miss Yellyark.
Session: When something goes wrong, blame the Crone. - Friday, Jan 05 2018 from 6:00 PM to 10:00 PM
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Tags: Journal , NPC , Recap
Epic × 2!
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