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The Old Bridge Inn rests at the border of Mitgardia and the Historican Crownlands. Its architecture is thus a mixture, and the structure has been rebuilt over and over again. Once, the bridge was wider and the tower fortified with a stone gatehouse. Watchers on the Water used to charge a toll and keep out Mitgardian raiders in times long past. History hangs over the place, but unlike the haunted ruins of other regions, the Old Bridge Inn has remained a place of life, change, and the congress of ideas and strangers from all over the land. Alva Tyrnsdottir (remember her?) fought the Algus in northern Mitgardia and is now on a diplomatic mission to Cedrica to see the new High Queen Ylspeth on behalf of Asbjorn, Jarl of Arnarvhal. However, Alva has never been this far south or east. Thankfully, Barling has been far abroad and even has maps to help guide their way. Alva and Barling consult a map of the roads from the Old Bridge Inn, trying to determine the safest route. Sturlan is reluctant to leave the inn, however. They had rested here for a few days and he managed to meet himself a young barmaid, the inkeeper's daughter, who he took a shine to. He pleads with her to wait for him to come back. It's only going to be a few weeks... months? Maybe a year. Two at most! Times have been hard in Historica lately. Maybe things are changing, but not fast enough for this man. Maimed escaping the Algus at Hardhearth (remember that?), he is now a beggar... a very low position for a proud Mitgardian to sink to. He lost his arm to Algus ice magic, but a passing shield-maiden offers him a much needed coin. The pies at Old Bridge Inn are famous and now he can afford one. Times haven't been tough on everyone, of course. The rich fellow on the balcony doesn't have to worry about affording pies. He can afford all the pies and he passes the beggar from Hardhearth every day and offers him nothing. A merchant and traveler from Kaliphlin, he finds the cold of Mitgardia quite refreshing... especially with a nice glass of brandy. Just don't tell him that he would have to a lot further north to experience the REAL cold of Mitgardia. Below him, a young girl steals some fish for the cats. She'll get a scolding later, but the look on Mr. Whisker's face is worth it. Unbeknownst to the other travelers and locals, two very special women have been passing through. Astrid is still young and like Alva, she has never been this far from home. The colors of the flowers delight her, and her bodyguard Ylva cannot help but smile just a little even though she knows that if the wrong person should notice them, their perilous flight from the far-off kingdom of Blomgard will only get even more dangerous. Ylva is unused to humans who are so comfortable with having dwarves around. She and Astrid come from a land where dwarves and humans get along quite poorly. Astrid is so delighted with the garden that she doesn't even notice the regal tourney knight approaching the inn behind her. That boy sure does! He's never seen a sight so inspiring in his short life! The knight hopes that the crowning of Queen Ylspeth will reignite the floundering tourney circuit throughout Historica. All he has is his war-gear and his unadorned, but steady mount. Should the tourneys resume, he stands to win fame and fortune if he can trounce the little knights of the other Guilds. Perhaps that boy over there would squire for him. Every good knight needs a squire... Another boy, hiding from his mother in the rubble of a bygone time, would be very jealous if he knew what he was missing up above! The fisherman on the dock wouldn't care either way. He lived for fishing, ale, and warm days on the river. A rich Avalonian countess surveys her rooms in the tower suite. Who knew such a rustic and barbaric a place as Mitgardia could boast rooms so nicely furnished? Perhaps there was even good wine here. But then, she doubted it. This young elven woman appreciates the view. She and her husband seldom travel in human lands and it never ceases to amaze her what the humans are capable of doing with a few handfuls of chiseled rocks. Little does she or anyone else know that a grumpy old minotaur lives below the Inn. Though she is impressed, her husband is not. He preferred the forests and rivers and glades. When he came to human places, he found solace in wine. Now if only the halfling and dwarf at the neighboring table would make less noise! They argue and argue about politics until finally the halfling, scarred and scowling, asks for his opinion to settle the argument. Ugh! Why couldn't they just leave him alone. Of course the Queen was going to reopen diplomatic ties to Nocturnus. It was just a matter of time. What was there to even discuss! If the poor elven husband only knew that peace and quiet was just a few flights of stairs away. Fresh pies off the oven meant that Lisfala, the proprietress of the Old Bridge Inn, could count on the word to spread. Soon, with Historica hopefully entering a period of peace, that word would spread to every corner of the Guildlands and the Crownlands and travelers would pass through. Maybe then she could make some much needed repairs. As she watched the happy patrons eating and smiling, plans for expansion and renovation flew through her mind. But where was her daughter? Some day, this would all be hers. She had better not be outside talking to that Arnarvhalan scrub again! The Old Bridge Inn could someday become an important junction in journeys through Mitgardia to the other Guildlands. Already, river boats laden with dwarf-mined ores passed through. Raiders and robbers still plagued the wilderness, meaning it was often unsafe to stop if the cargo was precious. This boat can't stop, it's too risky. Lisfala had seen them approach and lamented that for all the armsmen, mercenaries, and knights that passed through she still didn't have any stable security. Perhaps very soon she'd be able to hire some. Builder's Notes: This is the second biggest build I've done (first was Anarvhal) and this is actually version 2. The first version was MASSIVE but modular and I couldn't properly attach the parts. This build is inspired by the Cockatrice Inn from The Witcher 3: Blood and Wine and I credit that with getting me back into Lego because after seeing it I just had to build something like it. I have tried to include some small updates for my previous Mitgardian "storyline" (always pretty loose) and some hints at possible future builds. I was in a hurry and forgot the new Historica logo. Sorry about that! I still don't have a very good lighting setup, especially for builds this size. Sigh...
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All across the North, fires are lit to warn the people and rouse their anger at the invasion of ice, cold, and the monstrous reavers that have come from the Frozen Beyond. Long has fire been the best ally against the winter, and as the beacons were lit in Mitgardia, that allegiance became more than symbolic. Alva Tyrnsdottir accomplished much on the ruined tower at the edge of her clan's territory. She united elves and dwarves and her own men in common purpose to build something that would one day protect them all. Unfortunately, today was that day and as she saw the nearest beacon-fire light up the night skies of the east, she knew what she would have to do. The people of Arnarvhall were remote, cut off by the forest and fearful of the consequences that a traditional beacon might wreak on such a densely wooded region. So Alva ordered her men to gather their things, to strike the camp they'd established around the tower, and to prepare water in case the improvised beacon-fire got out of control. As she watched it burn, her heart was heavy. But she remembered her father's words. He had said to her that sacrifice was sometimes the only way forward. That a warrior might give up an inch only to take a mile on some other day. She spoke these words aloud to her men as they too looked on the burning tower with uncertainty. BONUS SHOT:
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OOPS I gave this the wrong title. Can a mod please change this to AoM Tower Phase 3: Reconciliation? Phase 1 here, Phase 2 here... After several days of tense negotiations, the Arnarvhalli and local elves finally reached an agreement... but only after a contingent of Woody Hills dwarves arrived to see what all the fuss was about. Before long, the three groups were able (thanks to Alva's patience!) to secure a mutually agreeable solution. First, the dwarves appeared with wagons of tools, mundane lumber, and fine stone. Then, the elves and their druid began to work on regrowing some of the sacred treelings that had been cut down. After a few weeks, the new tower soared triumphant from the bones of the old one. Though the job looked well and done to the humans, the dwarves and elves have remained to make sure everything stays well and done. Alva's part of the deal was an agreement to allow dwarven and elven scouts to use the tower as temporary lodgings, and for information to be passed freely among all three groups in collective defense of the region. Though some of her men grumbled at having to share the sparse shelter available in the shacks they'd set up nearby, Alva believed this was the first step toward creating a secure holdfast. She thought ahead with excitement to the report she would write to her father. Bonus Shots:
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Shortly after rediscovering the ruins of the old watchtower, Alva and her men begin cutting down trees to rebuild the tower. Casks of food and equipment are placed outside until such time as a barracks or other fortifications and shelter can be established. The important thing for now is getting enough of a view of the surrounding countryside to make the tower worthwhile. After a few days, Alva is surprised to see that they have visitors. A pair of elves of the Briar Clan from the nearby Woody Hills come upon the camp saying "No, no, no... this won't do at all!" Though they are unarmed, they don't seem anything less than hostile as they look on the tower's woodcutting operation with utter horror. They explain later that the trees are younglings, the children of a particularly sacred and ancient Giant Pine. Though Alva's men counsel her to ignore the elves and drive them away if necessary, Alva thinks about Jarl Asbjorn and decides on a more diplomatic solution. Days pass in stalemate. The elves are happy to see Alva has ordered the men to not cut any more trees down, but they are also failing to help her find a suitable solution to the problems of shelter and industry required to fortify the location. She needs a solution that means not abandoning the tower nor insulting the Briar Clan in a time when Mitgardia cannot spare the blood for petty or avoidable grievances. Such a solution doesn't seem feasible for the time being... BONUS SHOTS: Flickr
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It's been a while since we last saw Alva Tyrnsdottir, but she's been very busy ranging and scouting on behalf of Jarl Asbjorn and the jarldom of Arnarvhall in western Mitgardia. Rumors of the attacks in the North have spread even to Tradewind Bay, the Woody Hills, and the forests of Arnarvhall. As such, Asbjorn has ordered the rediscovery and rebuilding of old defenses at the borders of the region. In conjunction with dwarven and elven neighbors, a defensive alliance has formed. Alva Tyrnsdottir leads a group of Arnarvhalli scouts into the eastern reaches in search of old holdfasts, towers, and fortifications. Here she has found the ruin of a stone watchtower that still commands an impressive view of the surrounding countryside. It is an excellent candidate for rebuilding. Builder's Note: This picture doesn't really do justice to one or two elements of the build. I'll post another one when I have better lighting. Here are those other angled shots to better show off the tower ruins and the tree growing out of em :D
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We rejoin Alva Tyrnsdottir sometime after the axe-throwing tournament and sometime after her father began training her in the Arnarvhall style of axe and dagger close-quarters combat. An Arnarvhalling shield maiden must master many martial skills, however, including the traditional Shield Wall employed by viking parties. Training on the sand in full battle dress promotes the strength and coordination necessary for real combat. Though the weapons are blunted, no one enjoys getting hit by them. Tyrn, Alva's own father, acts as the commander of the Red Team. Their goal is to protect him from the Blue Team and vice versa. If either should break through, its commander is exposed and the victory is won for the other side. The commander of the Blue Team is Mad Marrgin, known in Arnarvhall for both his experience with the Shield Wall and his penchant for unorthodox tactics. Finally got around to my latest GoH build! I'm very proud of the water here and hope it looks as good to you guys as it does to me. I also like this Runestone better than the one I put in my Archery Phase 3. I notice now that I'm missing an obvious Mitgardian standard/flag. I hope all the green sleeves and yellow hands/faces are enough! Anyway, credit goes to someone else for the warhammer design. I only wish I could remember who's build it was where we talked about it. Same goes for the Runestone really! I should start making a list of stuff I see and then put in builds but sometimes there's a serious time lag and I forget. :( So please take credit if you see something familiar! Oh and Phase 1 here.
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Age of Mitgardia - Archery Phase 2 - An Unexpected Tutor
mccoyed posted a topic in Guilds of Historica
Asbjorn, Jarl of Arnarhvall, has no child of his own and has always treated Alva as a favored niece. Very little happens in his lands without his knowing it, and it was not long before he noticed Alva's interest in the martial. Early in the morning, when most are still asleep or just preparing for their day, Asbjorn helps Alva learn the axe and practice enough to have enough strength to hurl an axe as far as a Mitgardian warrior worth her icewater needs to. Though eventually she'll have to learn to throw even with ice and snow to trip her up, for now he has her brush the snow away every time they practice. The hard work is paying off. Alva strikes true more often than not. The unretrieved axes are a reminder of yesterday's regular training, when the young lads practice together. Later in the day, when they come to train, they'll have to march forward before all their peers and claim the axes and their shame. Alva has not had to claim an axe from the snowy dirt for days now. Asbjorn watches her carefully, knowing that she is almost ready to test herself against the others. Phase One here. AND OOPS. I left the title of this as Archery Phase 1 by accident (stupid auto-fill!). Can it be changed to Phase 2 by a mod please and thank you?! -
After a few months training with Asbjorn, Alva Tyrnsdottir felt ready to take on the world. The jarl thought it better if she took on her peers, first. The world could wait. It was customary to hold an axe-throwing tournament at least once a year. The tourney is only open to the young, usually boys who have not yet earned their arm-ring. The rules are simple: each thrower gets three axes and thus three throws. Two throwers at a time, each getting a single throw alternating throw until all axes have flown. Alva is the only female participant in more than a generation. Though proud of their old traditions, many of Arnarvhall's folk understand that tradition is a sword that cuts two ways. Thus, Asbjorn feels no regret knowing that his tutelage may have given Alva an edge. After all, the looks and whispers she's had to endure would have put her at a disadvantage. Now things feel a bit more even. Arnarvhall's axe-throwing tourneys are something of an event in Mitgardia. Every so often, famous faces from throughout the Guild will make an appearance and cheer on the Arnarvhall youths, inheritors of one of a skill that is now widely considered a relic of the old ways. See if you can spot the celebrities! Hint: most but not all are up on the high dias, watching the action alongside Jarl Asbjorn and his wife Frelaug. These lads are not overly interested in famous folk. All their attention is on a young, eligible woman. It is customary for marriageable daughters to be trotted out during public events like this tourney. Sometimes the attentions of a particularly bonnie daughter can be enough to throw an otherwise canny axe-thrower off his game. Standing behind the lass, dressed in the traditional white of married Arnarvhall women, is her disapproving mother. Though he would never admit it, Tyrn cannot help but smile in pride as his daughter throws. It is his responsibility to judge the contest from the ground, sounding his horn to mark the change of throws, and the change of throwers. This doesn't mean he can't have a favorite contestant. Behind him, one of Arnarvhall's smiths keeps the throwing axes sharpened, putting aside axe blades too warped to be used for the day. Alva's opponent cannot maintain his composure having missed two of his throws to Alva's one strike. He can't help anticipating the taunts once everyone sees that he is to be beaten by a girl. The daughter of the housecarl Tyrn, a great warrior, but a girl all the same. Alva refrains from grinning. She maintains the composure that Asbjorn taught her was an essential skill of any warrior. Later, when her father trains her in close-quarters combat, she will forget the lesson. For now, she remembers it very well as her second axe flies for its target. Thanks for looking! C&C completely welcome as always. Hopefully no one feels left out that I couldn't include their sigfig. Would love to have included more but pieces and space and you know how it is. :P Here's Phase 1 and Phase 2.