After the land was cleared, we commenced with the excavations for sinking fence posts. Truly, we learned that the term 'bones of the earth' was no figure of speech, as we wore and broke our tools against the unforgiving ground.
I'll not bore you with tales of the heroic feats done in the name of our dream; not of Arthur's mad pursit of offending trees with his whirling blade of death, nor the relentless Ravenswar with his rock-bar of smiting, nor the infernos set in motion by Garia to shame the heavens, nor the stones moved with Sisyphusian patience to fortify the work by the indefatigable Brianna, nor the exacting saw wielded by Hrothgar the silent (but deadly), nor the swiftly striking clawhammer of Cathoir, nor the wise counsel provided by Beth, nor the trusty tools and steady hand offered in friendship by Dhari, nor the sumptuous feasts that greeted us every evening prepared by the hand of Alesia the fair and my own lovely lady Juliana....
...where was I?
Oh yes! There was much work done by many willing hands, and no tale gives the full accounting of it (yet).
Barenlager, as it stands, consists of our barn and surrounding fields. It is guarded by a stalwart gate known as the Jaws of the Bear. They wait, ready to test the mettle of any warriors foolish enough to assail our quiet refuge.
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