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No Body
I came looking for Aimorel. She said when she left that she didn’t want to be found, that she sought the peace that could only come from being lost, so I had to see for myself when word reached me of this quiet elf who had taken up with a motley band of adventurous heroes in the Hrothgar Peninsula. Why would she leave her forest, her animals, her quiet, her… me, only to join with strangers and fight a fight that had nothing to do with her? Word had spread far and wide of their feats, and I was directed to Yroc’s Harbor. My curiosity becomes unease when Fox finds me several miles outside the town. I had sent her after Aimorel the day she left, and I know she’d be with her now if all was well. Fox is comforted at seeing me and her other companions, but I know that all is certainly not well.

When I reach town, I ask a kindly looking woman at a pastry shop about Aimorel, and she says I can find the Unchained at the Inn down the way, but not before I catch the look of pity in her eyes before they fall to the floor. I walk the few paces and shake what I can of the snow from my cloak before entering the warm tavern, which smells of rabbit stew, bread, smoke, and ale. I scan the room for a group that includes Aimorel, but none exists. An interesting looking girl with prominent, sharp teeth takes note of my appearance and then Fox at my feet, and she makes her way to me. The man behind the counter lowers his brow at Fox, but the girl with the teeth just shakes her head at him and leads me to a table at which sits a Halfling, a half-orc, and a rather busty girl. They’re all battle-scarred and have the weariness of eye that only war can elicit, and the despondency of spirit that only great personal loss yields. They invite me to sit, and the interesting girl places before me a steaming crock of stew, a hunk of bread, and a tankard of ale. We sit in silence as I fortify myself. When I look up, I know the answer to my question before I can ask it, as I am met with four sets of sorrowful eyes. But I need to say her name aloud, so I ask around the mass in my throat, “Aimorel?” The half-orc shakes her head and whispers, “no,” and tears are slipping down each of their faces.
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back in the barrows...
We find ourselves again in the barrows, but with mixed feelings.

We lost two great fighters in this unholy maze, but still we are here again. Coming back reminds me of them; how Tor would smirk at everything Boudica said behind her back but sacrificed himself to save her--to save all of us--in the end; how Aimorel was trying very hard not to show that she was softening to us, and that she had begun to accept us, along with all our quirks and debauchery, as her family.

In coming back to the barrows, I mourn for the dead, especially as this seems an appropriate place to do so. We may not have been able to find their bodies and give them a hero's rest, but now that we have somewhat cleansed this place, I hope their spirits may find peace.

There are more trials in this maze that we have yet to face, but I like to think that Tor and Aimorel can still feel us down here, fighting. I mourn for the dead, but I fight for them, too.
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Home. She would finally have a real home with her "family." Isn't family what makes a home?

Even growing up in her Uncle's house, Mirilda never really felt home. Mostly because of her Aunt's cruelty and her need to walk on eggshell's to avoid her Aunt's wrath. But also because of the lack of acceptance of the other locals.

But now, they will be building their stronghold to live in together. She would reside with people who loved and accepted her. Not just one, like her uncle, but a whole family.

Mirilda never had an interest in settling down before. She had been on the road since she her Uncle died. Their stays in Yroc's Harbor for days at time made her itch to get back on the road. Therefore, her excitement over the prospect of building a stronghold surprised her. She truly loved the Unchained and could not imagine leaving them as she has all the other groups she had adventured with before.

This would be different than Yroc's Harbor though, it would be theirs. They would not be visitor's sleeping in beds that strangers also slept in. This would be their home!

Mirilda smiled at the thought of this as she drove her axe through the undead.

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Who goes there?
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Posted in Untamed Wilds
Blasted, Shot, Stabbed...
If you had told me I would have had all of those happen to me on my first week I would have called you mental, and it all happened on the first damn day.

What a sorry lot we are. Washed up dregs left to build our own out of the scraps of our plans. It all started with that blasted water spout. Hell if it was natural, I heard some of the eggheads muttering about an ethereal cuttlefish or something but I don't know about any of that. Damned lucky to be alive is what I say. What, with a captain who froze up at the helm, and a shipmate whose idea of helping is to blast a hole in the side of the ship as I try to shore up a crack below deck. Next thing I know, I wake up on a beach with the remaining crew.

After gathering our bearings and having to drag our lifeboats upstream it finally seemed like our luck was turning, when we stumbled upon the settlement of the surviving crew of the Raven. And damned if lizardboy Molo hadn't survived. Had himself a hut and plenty to eat too, though none of it goat by looks of it.

Of course it couldn't last. Just after we had settled in to rest, a whole troop of goblin kneebiters popped up on all sides trying to steal our stuff. I don't think they had expected anyone to be at camp, they even rolled in a damn wagon to cart off our goods, cheeky bastards. Managed to cut down the lizard mount of the bastard who charged at me, pinning him and then cutting him down as he fled. Chasing down another I took an arrow while the others made short work of the remaining goblins in the camp. Then Molo, the doc, and I took after the leader in the cart as he tried to take off. Surprisingly in sync, we managed to hold up the cart with little trouble, minus a knife in the ribs and serious bloodloss. Nothing I couldn't shrug off as I killed another goblin and chased down last one, leaving it bleeding and hysterical. Sent him hobbling off into the woods, back to his boss Kling. Klang?.... bah I'll find out soon enough when we track him down...

Ah, but I've been talking to much, and the ale is wearing off. I should probably go grab another round from Brett. Helps the wounds heal faster.
Session: Condor Session 0 - Sunday, Jul 30 2017 from 2:00 PM to 5:00 PM
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