Louis of Nutwood
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Posts posted by Louis of Nutwood
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Truly beautiful work.
Love the snow, love the timber columns, love the straw roof.
Very Mitgardian.
Can't wait to see more.
Skol! -
It's truly inspiring to see something this big taking place. I'm working on a similar project for way too long to admit, and can say how difficult it is to commit.
Awesome work in the minor details, and I appreciate you taking separate photos of some of the structures that compose this grand diorama.
Fantastic job. Hope it keeps growing. I would love to see a bolder castle structure coming from inside the walls.
Cheers! -
2 hours ago, jtooker said:Great job continuing the story and linking your two CDC1 submissions. I will say I do have some questions about the people of Völsung: were they the ones making the sacrifices and living 'above ground'?
The throne on the rocky platform is terrific and the numerous candles set the mood well.
I'm thrilled you liked it, JTooker! To connect the two entries was the objective from the start.
And yeah! The people in Völsung are the ones making the sacrifices, communicating with the underworld god that sits by the throne of bones.
Thanks for the support, lad!
3 hours ago, Grover said:Fantastic story. After your clarifications on your last story, I was able to follow this one much better. I really liked reading it, and was able to imagine everything. The build itself is very nice. I particularly like the bone throne. It really looks like it's made out of bones! The bone decorations around the base are a nice touch as well. That faun really looks sinister and demonic with the new head! The color layering with the browns works, and you did a great job placing tons of candles at irregular intervals to give it a cult feel. The columns at the top hint at more structure without eating up a ton of bricks, so great job! I would have loved to see the sorceress as well, and think she would have been a great extra shot since you built the main structure anyway. I can see some interesting star wars fig parts that could work for her... Keep up the good work, and I'm looking forward to seeing where this story goes!
Hey, Grover! I'm happy you liked the story and mentioned a few aspects of the build I'm pleased with. I'm specially glad you liked both builds and texts connected. And yeah, I spent some time trying to assemble a good figure for the sorceress, but ended up giving up. Any suggestions would come in greatly! Cheers! And thanks for the much welcomed support. Skol!
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11 hours ago, zoth33 said:Very nice build. As Kai NRG said the transition of colors is wonderful. The throne itself looks great. I like all the candles to illuminate the throne and steps. The pillars are nicely detailed. Interesting story too
I'm really glad you liked the color transition and the story, Zoth! I'm happy you mentioned the candles. At first sight, they all looked to me like a toilet paper deposit of some sort, but it's good to know they work as candles. Yeah, there are better pieces for it, but we have to work with what's available. The pillars are something I've been wanting to do for some time, and that throne was certainly a spark of inspiration. Thanks for the support, lad. Cheers!
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2 hours ago, Kai NRG said:Black, dark brown, brown... what a great color progression, it really looks good. Excellent rockwork too, and the white bones pop so well! Great pillar technique too!
I'm thrilled you liked it, Kai! The final result was better than expected considering my poor photography skills, I must confess. And color contrasts worked out! Yay!
Thanks for the support, man, as always. Skol! -
Wow. This is spectacular! Truly outstanding. A punch of nostalgia to a very distinguishable classic set and a modern twist with complexity and visual impact.
Your dragon is amazing, and the ship-part puts a lot of ships I see around to the test. Really an awesome work. Keep it up! -
Aaah, the classic style with the classic colors of a classic castle tower. Very inspiring to see there are still purists to this level! A truly great tribute for a 10 year gathering of castle builders and storytellers. The queen would be proud. Might be simple, but it's exploding with character and meaning, accompanied by a phenomenal take of a story, with a character we've learned to love so much: Bob.
Beautiful continuation with a connecting building style. I just can't get enough of Bob.
Skol, sire Grover! -
2 hours ago, mrcp6d said:I really like that tower! Using all those 45 degree slopes in the SNOT stonework to create really deep texture works really well here for my eye and framing everything with brown certainly adds that timber touch that reminds of the northern Guild's building style. As always, your rockwork is on point here as well. Great MOC!
Timber and stonework have made their appearance one time or another in Mitgardian builds, if I remember correctly... Glad to know they work here too! Thanks for the words and support, MRCP! I'm thrilled you liked the rock-snow-work, too. Skol!
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2 hours ago, mrcp6d said:Geez, this MOC looks like a movie set or something. Very imposing! You've definitely developed a personal style with your rockwork often incorporating striations of color and it's well done here as well. Some kind of crazy fit of inspiration or table scrap fiddling must have struck you with respect to the throne itself; it's just perfect!
I'm really glad you liked it, MRCP! Rockwork is something eventually everyone incorporates in their build, so it means a lot I might have come to a personal style. The color mixing came as a brick limitation, and now it's developed to something I'm quite fond of. And hey! The throne was a last addition that came with table scrap fiddling indeed! It's awesome you liked it, as I'm pretty happy with it too. Cheers, lad! Skol!
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Well, I'm a sucker for dragons. And this one has three heads! Which is triple the fun!
Super cool entry and a super cool build. I love the colors and the cartoonish style you've found for the beast. Might there be a nest? A lair where those might have hidden and reproduced? The Guilds are in dire need of some dragon action. Always.
It is known that three-headed dragons lay three-yolked eggs. Which is the rarest kind of egg! Oooh, if I could put our hands in some of those, I could retire and live in a secluded timber shack and bathe under the Mitgardian sun (read snow) until the end of my days...
Awesome entry, MCCoyed!
Skol! -
Awesome entry, Sire Kahir! I love the floating rock concept. I've been wanting to try it out for some time, now.
Your tower is classic, yet with a very cool unique twist. I specially like the arched solutions you found for the top, and to have a lit-up fire is a great touch. The idea of a pirate island is a great addition to the Guilds too! I only wish to know more about the mystic isles and the magic behind them floating in the world. Are they travelling? Hiding treasure and precious stones? Perhaps a portal to a world unknown?
Skol, sire Kahir!
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I haven't been in the Guilds for long enough to know who Lord Dextrus really is. But I'm certainly compelled to know more about this mystic creature whose memory is lost and now has been named Rook.
Specially after reading through the story, I feel he understood perfectly how a Rook can take the King's place in a mere movement. And I wonder who's place is Rook going to target.
That's a very different take on the tower! I love the color and the detailed crenellations up top. To work on a farm is specially pleasing too, specially when you add so many well though-out components for crates and machinery. But something that stands out to me is definitely the crooked ground. Phenomenal alternative for a bleak-turned-to-interesting terrain!
Very cool and unique entry that must bring the greatest memories to the veterans of the Guilds.
Skol! -
Now, that's a cool stretch of a tower concept. Definitely a tower! But so much more than that.
The mixed architecture works beautifully, the vegetation is great and spooky, the inhabitants-guards are impressively unique, and those spikes up-top are the nicest touch.
Cool addition of the feathered messenger and the fact it has an interior only makes it more impressive. It kind of reminds me of your Zotharian Underworld, which I loved.
Great entry, mate! Awesome work.
Skol! -
And once again, the green-and-gold banners of the north cut the grey skies to bring tranquility and reliability to the land of the old ones.
It warms my cold heart to see the old Norse architecture painting the horizon with the bold objectivity of a round tower.
Impressive and robust rockwork, with the very familiar white mantel of snow keeping the weak of skin and feeble minded from entering and exploring the vast Mitgardian plains.
Great spot of colors with the vegetation. But the beacon is the one thing I like the most! Something about the nest of wands, there. Very cool (no pun intended)!
For Mitgardia!
Skol. -
Ooooh, the beautiful Varlyrian canals are a feast for the eye!
Very cool architecture. I really like the round solution you brought to the tower. Really cool and pleasant color choices. And I really like the fact it is "unfinished", still under construction.
And YES! Rufus Baiamonte lives! Long live the story of Rufus Baiamonte, the Mad Rego! Such an honor to read these words, for a good story lives forever in the mouths and fires and inn tables and gatherings across the globe. May Varlyrio find its peace and may the canals one day get cleaned. I salute you, sire!
Awesome work, lad. -
Now, I may cherish the blowing winds and crops covered in ice, but this sand-castle is a feast for the eye!
Who would have thought the architects in the desert would come up with such phenomenal design?
Amazing! Truly incredible color scheme with bits of interesting details all the way through. Phenomenal windows. The roof is mind-blowing. Vegetation is warming and welcoming. And those camels, my oh my! They would do wonders on the trade routes in the north. It's amazing how there's so much going on in such a restrict space. Loved it. Absolutely loved it.
Skol! -
Oooh, the beautiful gold-and-green banner once again takes the grey skies of the world of the mortals!
The south borders are filling with the northern blood, while the tree-huggers keep trembling on their feet.Such a beautiful entry, MRCP! Amazing setting with an outstanding northern architecture. The base is very unique, and I love the dirt path cutting right through it. And the vegetation is spot on Avalonian. Truly a very clean and eye-catching build. Kudos!
Great to see another fellow Mitgardian join the party.
Skol! -
On 5/29/2021 at 10:05 PM, caiman0637 said:Great build!
Thank you so much, Caiman! I'm glad you liked it.
On 5/30/2021 at 12:14 AM, Kai NRG said:This is some good snow-scape and like I said on Flickr, the tans look really good next to the white! The stone texture on the tower walls is also super interesting, not something I would have tried but it totally works between the brown poles!
I'm very happy you liked it, Kai. I'm particularly proud of the snow-work here in this build. It's probably my most snow-centered build to date. And I was too a bit uncertain about the result of the stone between wooden poles, but hey! It kind of works! Glad you liked it, mate.
17 minutes ago, Kai NRG said:Just found a bit of time to read the story, really interesting start! One note, in English it's usual to put the punctuation inside the quotation mark. For example: He said, "That was a close call." (instead of: call".)
Goddamn! Quotes are awful. Let me edit this... (and thanks again for the much welcomed writing tips, Kai! They're really appreciated.)
15 hours ago, Niku said:Great atmosphere the snow is very good that i might need my coat.
I really like the stone work and the wood frame complements it very well as to meet the boundaries.
Thanks for sharing. :)Hahah, glad you liked it, Niku! I confess I needed an extra sweater while building the landscape. Thanks for the support!
3 hours ago, Exetrius said:The story is grand! You have me on the edge of my seat to find out more about that gorge. Beautiful build! The snowscaping is great, but looks even better broken up by the rock face and arch, and the path (nice texture!). I really like the layered build-up of the tower, very pleasing profile, and the snow on the roof is excellent! I do think the stone between the round pillars is a bit too rough and deep, although it helps to evoke the tough and harsh environment vibe that you describe. Fantastic entry!
Mitgardians are rough, Exetrius! So should be our rockwork. Rustic and raw, just like Thor's hammer. Hah.
I'm thrilled you liked it, man. I'm particularly proud of the landscape, and so glad you mentioned it. It can be very tricky to work with snow (I believe you gave me a couple tips years ago, when I first started posting my MOCs), and I'm ecstatic that little by little it starts improving. I'm super happy you liked the story too. Just like snow-building, story-writing is a long-term commitment to mistaking and trying again. So it means a lot you liked reading through it. Thanks, man!1 hour ago, adde51 said:Great entry! The story is captivating and well written, and the build is just stunning. The tower fits great with the surrounding and the base is interesting without taking away from the tower itself. And that is some really sweet looking snow you got there. Great work man!
Such an appraisal from the fantastic Kaliphlian building legend, Adde51! What a rush! Thanks a bunch, man. It really means a lot you liked the build and the story, to mention a few aspects that stand out to me as well. I really appreciate it, Andreas. Skol!
On 5/30/2021 at 12:09 AM, Grover said:Very beautiful work. I like the dark tan and light tan separated by the snow, and the natural archway is fantastic. Your attention to the snow piled up is great and looks very natural, particularly in the drifts against the tower. I like the tower, too, with its narrow profile (less volume to heat!) and steep roofs to keep snow off. Is there a chimney on this building or what do they use for heat? I like the high tower walls to keep wind off the soldiers, too. This is well planned.
The story is compelling, and you have a great command of English. I always enjoy reading your stories! I have read the story three times and I still have some questions, though. If I understand the story correctly:
* There is a village in the north in a desolate canyon called Völsung that is suspicious because it always has supplies even when no one from the village has access to food or supplies, and unusual activity at other villages in the region have been attributed to rumors associated with Völsung.
* The winter came early and fast this year and a small group of individuals, Fiobvr among them, was sent by the chieftain to go to Völsung to 'understand' them.
* Fiobvr's home village, Høydefür, is in distress and Fiobvr is sent away to see about his family. This is done before sunup so that his absence does not distress the other members of the militia/volunteers
* The other militia members are traveling to Völsung in the morningAssuming this is correct, my questions are:
1. Why is there concern with Völsung? Are the villagers desperate for food and supplies, so they are reaching out to a place that seems to be self-sustaining? Do they think that Völsung is causing the early winter and want to fight them to end it? It seems to me that logic would dictate that time and energy would be best spent rounding up everyone that they can and getting them to well supplied villages like Roligsfrakk. If there is more of a connection of these bad happenings in villages to Völsung, then it might make more sense, but it seems like they are spending a lot of resources to trek to a place they know nothing about for an unknown reason.
2. Is Fiobvr headed north or west? I thought he was headed west to his home village, but the last sentence makes it seem like he's headed north into the Frozen Beyond, so I am confused.
I have found that in writing for others, particularly in a fantasy genre in which little is common knowledge (i.e., in writing about Paris, most people have some preconceived notions what is is like), it's better to be more obvious than more subtle, since subtleties are sometimes lost on people when reading. Overall, good job!
Sire Grover, your comment is one I always expect with a lot of anticipation and appreciation. Your eye for detail, understanding, purpose and meaning is a singular contribution to this group of writers-builders called Guilds of Historica. They truly make us grow in the craft. Thanks for taking the time to read, ponder and evaluate this build-and-story.
To your questions!
1. Correct! Völsung is suspicious because they've grown over night, they don't relate to any other villages, they live in a frozen pit surrounded by nothing but ice, and remains hidden under a non-stopping blizzard. People fear the use of Seidr Magic, related to shamanism and darkness.
2. Yes! Winter came early and strong, blowing from the north. Every year they form a group to harvest food and protect for winter season, but this year things are different. The winds are stronger, and a black shadow seems to swipe everything in its front, leaving behind nothing but snow and a trail of missing people. But hey! All this shenanigan must be coming from Volsung!
3. Aye! Hoydefur, Fiobvr's home town was taken by the storm, so the chieftain calls him at night to send him back, even though they still have to uncover what's going on.
4. Fiobvr, now faces a dilemma: West? to go back to his family and wait for the black shadow-storm to come. Or North? To take this matter in his own hands and find out what's happening in Volsung?
The Last Eye, Utoverogat, is the last tower before the Frozen Beyond. Fiobvr stops and stares into his past, praying his family will understand his need to follow through and protect not only them, but the whole north. So yes! He is marching North.
Now that you mentioned, it makes sense to explore the interest in Volsung a bit more. Specially because of lack of supplies, and the idea that Volsung survives with basically nothing. Interesting! I did not really thing of that, sire Grover. But mainly, yeah - they all think Volsung is causing the early-harsh-winter with their Seidr Magic practice. Roligsfrakk is safe... for now. And until they deal with the huge storm (and understand what's causing it), looking for food might not really help.
Once again, Grover, this is a very clarifying advice. I did went for something more obscure and subtle, but I must agree that fantasy writing might come clearer with more of a straight-forward approach. Something to think about.
And I hope some of your questions are answered here above. Some might be answered here below too: Chapter II: Daemon's Throne.
Skol! Thanks you all. -
The Goddess: Hel
Entry for GOH's Anniversary Challenge: Tale.
Before continuing, make sure to read the prequel, so it makes (more) sense: Chapter I: The Last Eye
As always, a cup of warm beverage should go well from this point on. Enjoy!
...The road tightened between two ebony walls, lost among grey twisting clouds, and Fiobvr felt the need to breath deep and swallow his own freezing breath to make sure his chest would fill. At the bottom, where the parallel walls met the ground, two wooden towers erupted next to a long wall of black timber, and a small, almost hidden gate hailed unlikely wanderers. In its front, a set of spikes carved onto the ground, pointed towards the road, and reminded unwelcomed visitors to turn on their heaves. What once was a forgotten village, almost overnight, had become a stronghold secluded from the world they all knew. The gorge.
A roar thundered, as the wind hissed and spit sideways defying the Norseman against a falling pit. Every move could mean a stumble and every stumble could be his last. Away from the dirt path, he walked unnoticed through the mountain, barely seeing beyond the fog. He climbed the ebony rock until he found a crack with a smooth surface and a canopy to protect from the storm, high enough for him to gaze inside the walls. And there he stood, deafened by an eternal whistle, watching the stillness of the gorge, where day and night were just the same, and no living person would pass by. Until one day, someone did.
From the snow-covered path, among the clouds that drifted low over the ground, a figure covered in pelts appeared as if from nowhere. He led a small cart pulled by a scrawny mule. Its load tightened under a blanket. He stood by the gates for longer than one should and waited to be greeted. But as far as he could tell, no one was around. Not at the watchtowers, not at the clearing path, and not a glow of a lamp light was seen in the past days. For what he knew, the place was empty. Yet, lifeless as it was, a buzzling sound clang and the crackling of wood echoed along the corridor formed by the mountains. A small fissure cut the wooden walls, and the gates of Völsung yawned open.
The cart rider dumped his load in the stronghold’s deserted patio. A dozen long and heavy sacks piled atop each other and rolled sideways on the snow. He dragged the sacks one by one, aligning them as a farmer prepares the land for a crop. Once all twelve sacks were displayed, he opened each, revealing twelve bare corpses that lay still on a cold white blanket.
The man rushed to his cart and pulled the reins, leaving behind a trail of death. On a ledge on the face of the mountain, one man stood still, grasping for an understanding that did not come.
But from beneath the wind, the storm, and the dancing fog, inside those walls, a faint orange light glistered at the base of the opposite ridge. What looked to be a wall of stone was turned into a hollow cloister inside the mountain. The faint light became brighter, and the silhouette of a person stood under the cold archway marking the entrance of a grotto. Its face was protected by a hood and a cloak clapped and flapped in the wind. A staff pierced the white ground as the person stood in front of the line of silent bodies. From inside the cave, ten, twenty, thirty men appeared carrying twelve wooden logs, cut, and scraped with perfection. Next to the corpses, those big chunks of wood were loosened. And as if moved by the same rhythm, like a dance they practiced over and over, all bodies were tied to the logs and lifted. Twelve pillars were pinned to the ground, pointing to grey skies, served as racks to the bodies, purple with cold that hung feet up and heads down, aiming at an empty bucked that trembled in the breeze.
The hooded figure then lifted her staff and pressed it against one of the hanging man’s chest that bent inwards with a crack. A black whole twinkled when the staff was pulled, and a black viscous liquid slithered across the man’s chest and neck. It drifted, dividing itself upon reaching his chin and ears, consuming his expressionless face before dripping on the bucket beneath him. And soon, she had twelve buckets filled with the black liquor of death.
All men walked back inside the cave, buckets in hand, as the woman followed. Her cloak flapping with excitement. She then stopped and turned, facing the pillars. As she opened her arms and bent her head to the sky, a glowing light kindled at the bottom of each pillar, fighting against the blowing ice with unfair advantage, for within a heartbeat, a small flare turned into a firepit that consumed twelve heads, twelve bodies, twelve men.
Just as it all started, the raging storm swiped, taking Fiobvr from his feet. Icicles flew, cutting the air with the force of a thousand blades. A roar bellowed from the sky and made the world tremble when the warrior heard a voice whisper in his head. The storm washed the clearing with a new layer of untouched snow, finding its way across the tight walls of the gorge. And where once was a woman, now remained only the shadowed entrance of a cave.
...
After two days tucked in a whole, up on the road, another cart appeared. The norseman left his post and moved behind the cart as it stopped by the piercing pikes and thick wooden walls of Völsung. As the rider waited on the thundering winds, Fiobvr sneaked under the cloth protecting the content, and waited in the dark, together with the cold remnants of his fellow northern men. A roar echoed through the gorge and the cart moved once again. Fiobvr closed his eyes and let himself be manipulated. Tossed, pushed, and dragged on the snow, he struggled to contain his grunts and shivers. And once the cart rider rode back to where he came, the warrior opened his eyes to see a line of twelve bodies resting on the ground, where he was the thirteenth. He shook the snow, ran, and ducked next to the entrance of the cave, praying he had remained unseen.
Within moments, that faint orange light glistered from inside the cave once again, and an army of men walked out, followed by a woman. Her face was painted blue, and she held a staff ornamented with teeth and bones, dragging a line on the pale ground.
Fiobvr was fast to sneak inside the cave. While he made his way past tunnels and wholes, the idea of a staff piercing his chest crossed his mind and a taste of metal touched his tongue.
The snow dissipated inside the cave, and for a moment, the warrior felt lost under the faint glow of the torches. But beneath the dust that covered the ground, he noticed the weak markings of a trail. He followed. His steps echoed with the slightest move, and found himself in a room, where the air turned thick and warm, and the stone walls flashed like fire. A set of pillars held the ceiling from falling, and a set of steps, carved in the stone, led to an altar, where a thousand candles burned. But among the tinkling blaze and the muffled scent of smoke, a pile of bones intertwined and melded to form the throne of an unborn king. It was an ugly thing. Cracked bones made the throne’s arms, spines made the spindles, femurs made the uneven frame of the rails, and every inch made Fiobvr shiver with the sour taste of his stomach.
Next to the throne, he saw a bowl made of rock. It was filled with a thick dark liquid that lay still and shone with the blaze of the candlelight. Fiobvr examined and thought of those men tied overturned in the open.
But from the narrow entrance of the room, he heard the mumble of footsteps, and a faint glowing light swept the ground. He ran and hid behind a pillar, watching the room get smaller and smaller. The ground shook, and an army approached, moved by the power of one piece: the sorceress.
Eleven buckets were emptied in the basin, and it drank the liquid with an unhuman thirst. The walls narrowed and a wind swiped. The deep echo of a voice, exulting in a feast sounded when the buckets filled the bowl, calming its belly, and pleasing its spirit.
“Feed me”, it said in a deep voice that rang in the warrior’s chest. And as the twelfth bucket spilled its content, a drop cracked the surface and slithered to the floor.
All men kneeled as the sorceress stood feet away from the basin and turned, staring at the twisted empty throne. Arms wide open, she bent her head to the ceiling and the white balls in her sockets glistered with the dancing light of the candles. She then uttered words he could not understand and struck her staff on the floor, when a cold wind swiped, darkening the room in an unbroken shadow, leaving behind a fumed scent. An empty silence prevailed.
But the tinkle of a drop hitting the surface shredded the stillness of the void, followed by another drop and one further. And the gutting growl of a beast echoed in a slow demonic breather, confronting all men’s beliefs. A single candle kept its light, and under a faint glow he saw the throne was no longer empty.
The sorceress hissed with a trembling voice and a few more candles lit, revealing what Fiobvr never though his eyes would see. Atop the altar, materialized what could only be the proof the Gods had turn their backs on the land of the living. For there stood a beast that was not living nor dead. A shadow drifted on floor and as it thickened, it formed the whiskered hooves of a goat, wrapped in a sinuous tail. Following its belt, it built the naked torso of a man. A layer of stretched skin covered the remnants of its pale flesh hanging from a whole amidst the broken bones of an opened chest. From atop his head, two horns twisted over edged ears. But those eyes... made of the piercing flame of the Ancient Ones, were soaked in angst and horror. They took every breath, every glimpse, and every soul. Two red eyes cut the dark, iced the room and filled it in dismay.
“Look me in the eye and face your summoner”, the sorceress found her voice looking straight at the beast, as it muttered a visceral rumble like a starving animal.
“Take me to your garden and open your gates to me, for now what divides our worlds apart... is no more” she shouted, as the beast roared and clamped its boned jaw.
“Embrace me as your own and let us seek those who oppose our ways. Take me to an eternal life and let us rule the world from beneath the earth, from above the clouds and from between the winds”. She cried, as the candles raged across the room with a raging whistle.
“Take my hand and I’ll raise as the Goddess of Life and Death!”. With open arms, she reached out her hand. The beast did the same as its cold fingers touched the woman’s flesh. Their fingers entwined and never parted. Beast and sorceress walked to the throne at the center of the room, as they revealed to the world their unity in a ceremony despised by the gods. The woman sat, chin up and spine stretched, as her smile glistered in the fire, and a soft voice reverberated once more:
“My queen...”.
With the flick of a candlelight, just as the spirit appeared, the cave was left in the dark, and both vanished in the air, into the underworld, leaving behind an empty throne made of bones.
…
Fiobvr found himself alone, walking through the dark tunnels of Völsung. He found its way out of the fortress, out of the fog, but his mind never left. Three days passed as he approached the flowing banners that marked the entrance to the village he knew so well. A hollow belly and the memories of a horned spirit loaded his thoughts. But the jittering and mumbling of wandering people, merchants shouting, and farmers farming was blurred by an unusual silence that made Fiobvr’s throat tighten once again. He led his hand over his chest, searching for a hole that he could not see, but swore was there. His hand lowered and squeezed the hilt of his sword as his feet sunk in the snow.
There, where four familiar walls made of stone met, remained nothing but a colorful sea of distant memories fading with the white snow. Buried in the cold, the souls of a thousand loved ones searched for the rascal that inflicted their tragic fate. Two red eyes that would forever stare into Fiobvr’s dreams.
Hel.
THE END.
___________
Louis of Nutwood
For Mitgardia!
If you've reached this point, thank you so much for reading through.
Please, let me know what you think of the build and the story.
Skol! -
Phew!
The path was long and weary, but we've finally made through the snow and the storm. And amidst the freeze, there it was... Ütoverögat, The Last Eye.
For Mitgardia!
Skol! -
Entry for GOH's Anniversary Challenge: CDC1 Tower: The Last Eye, Ütoverögat.
Entry for GOH's Anniversary Challenge: CDC1 Tale: Daemon's Throne.
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Ütoverögat
Entry for GOH's Anniversary Challenge: Tower.(As always, a cup of warm beverage should go well with the following read. Enjoy!)
High up in the cold mountain peaks of the white north, where the winds hissed and the storms blew, there was one rule that reigned above all: the rule of the stronger. Younglings were thought to embrace the snow, to cherish the blowing wind and to endure with a hollow belly. The ones who took those teachings by heart were most likely to survive the bleak environment of the vast and unexplored Frozen Beyond. Yet even those who grew a thick skin and sustained through nights of famine were subject to perish on the hands of wild beasts, raging diseases or lingering savage tribes. To survive meant to gather and form a family. For as a group, people were stronger, and for the group they fought not only for their own lives, but for the ones they have learned to share their lives with.There was one village, though, that contrasted from the rising communities. Instead of relying on fishing and agriculture, and establishing trade relations with neighboring families, they trusted on a different source of strength that was unknown to most. This village, called Völsung, was establish up in the North, somewhere past the last remaining road. In the center of a gorge, it was surrounded by two ebony cliffs of frozen black stone, where rivers have dried, trees did not grow, and no animal found reason to walk by. It was a dead land, buried under a thick mist and doomed to remain untouched, hidden from gods and men. But fat wooden towers, heavy timbered walls, and massive speared palisades appeared over time, indicating the entrance to an uninviting nest.
It raised suspicion amongst the northern clans. After all, how could these people survive in the middle of nowhere, under an unstopping storm, without provisions from any of the known villages and apparently, without ever opening their gates? Everyone had questions, but no one dared speaking aloud.
That same year, as all years past, just when the winds turned colder and the frost covered the crops, people were called to prepare for the time of shortage and ensure their comfort during days of blizzard. But that year, winter came in a flash. Faster and stronger. Even those accustomed to a life of clenching teeth felt tricked by the gods, for the blowing winds came without a warning and brought the thickest clouds and a lingering shadow that enforced an unending night over their homes. A darkness that took away their harvests, their sleep, their children. Everything. People cloistered. They hid themselves from the unnatural force they could only assume was cast by the gods and prayed their villages would not be chosen.
Still, a small group of men set foot on the road with only their loved ones in mind, and blades in their scabbards to calm their disquiet. But this winter was different. They fought against time and nature to stock for a time of uncertainty. Yet they strove to understand a force that slipped from the grasp of reason. Fiobvr followed, as it was his duty, and prayed in silence in an unsettling farewell.
“I’ll always protect you”, whispered the farmer to his family, facing the spreading clouds over the mountaintops.
...
Fiobvr walked the lonely streets of the camp he knew so well, under a black mantel that covered the world. Starless skies swallowed his puzzling dreams and filled his chest with frozen air. The distant glow of a dancing fire revealed at least one man amongst all farmers and fishermen was awake. There was no doubt. He knew who it was, and therefore forced himself to think of scenarios in being summoned at this hour, while all others slept, meant a good thing. But no blessing came to mind.
The lingering air inside the tent was thick and warm, and Fiobvr thanked the Gods for feeling the tips of his callused fingers once again. Leaning over a hardwood table, the figure of a man made of nothing but muscle, dwelled over a wrinkled map as his hair, clamped in silver rings hung over the world as a pendulum. His eyes turned to the woken farmer, briefly turned into a warrior, and a puff of air fled from his clenched teeth.
“Gather your belongings and empty your tent. You will leave at first light,” said the chieftain from behind a thick beard. “You may form a group of men to accompany you, to make sure your travels are safe.”
“All of my belongings, Lord?”, Fiobvr said puzzled. “Where should I leave to?”
The Chieftain emptied his lungs and his head sunk between his broad shoulders, as his eyes wafted across the map. “A messenger was sent west to report on our families”. He paused, looking for words. “Many villages remain tall and strong. These have opened their gates to the neighboring families in need. Some other villages, though... had to be evacuated”.
His finger drifted across the map and landed over a vast forest Fiobvr recognized in a heartbeat. There was a handful of friendly villages, and amongst them, Høydefür, the one village he knew more than any other. Home. His mind was filled by warm thoughts of Nyeda and his sisters, Phili and Teri. Yet, he shivered, conceding the arrival of the sudden winter, and realizing his task up in the cold mountains of the North was far from complete.
“For all we know, Høydefür fell.”
Are they safe? Fiobvr wanted to ask, but a sudden freeze grabbed his throat, and he could not find his voice.
“Roligsfrakk is well provisioned, and I trust your family will find comfort by their heaths. But I reckon your sisters will feel safer in your presence,” said the warlord, his breath frosting in the dim light. His braided hair swung like a bell, from one side of the map to the other. Fiobvr followed.
“The last group... they did not go west,” Fiobvr observed. But in truth, he did not need the reply. He was summoned in the middle of the night, not to bring distress. He was asked to leave before dawn, not to raise more speculation, he figured. That meant all he needed to know, and a sudden shudder raised to his collar.
The chieftain’s eyes moved across the map up to the north, and stood over a neck, where two ridges met. The gorge. “Everything leads to the same place. The Frozen Beyond.” He grunted. “We can send men to protect the whole land. But until we understand what happens inside those walls... we and our families will live in fear, waiting for a shadow to swallow the sun and bury ourselves in the snow”. His eyes left the map and stared into the night beyond the cloth of his tent, as the candlelight danced in the silence.
Rumors. Fiobvr heard all of them. People spoke of sorcery and Seidr magic. Of a blood-thirsty creature brought from the underworld that meandered with the winds. Of a whisper chanting in the storm. Of the return of the undead... Rumors. Nothing but rumors. That was what he kept telling himself. But truth be told, they haunted his sleepless nights. Because beyond the rumors, Fiobvr saw the villages with his own eyes. Dortvaenir, Khardun, Sjenervandt, once prosperous and full of life, were taken by the storm in a sudden, and were now sunken in the snow. Deserted. Taken by the dark shadows of an unknown strength, blowing from the North, and their people were nowhere to be seen. It all happened so fast!
He knew the rumors, aye. But those were not the works of rumors. Those were something else.
Fiobvr swallowed and struggled to find his voice. The image of empty cobblestone streets filled his mind and twisted his guts. The chieftain’s words echoed in his mind. “Until we understand... our families will live in fear.”
“Aye. I’ll leave before dawn.”
A distant glow burned the sky behind the cracked contour of the mountains, taking the night as the falling snow covered the footsteps of the Norseman marching into the frozen mist.
...
Amidst the white fog and the cutting storm, the shadow of a structure, tall as a mountain, defied the cruel weather. From atop the wooden pillars flapped the green and golden banner of the northern folk, marking the final stretch of the world known to men. Ütoverögat. The last eye.
Fiobvr stopped. His feet hiding in the snow, cloak flapping in the wind. Before reaching the arch of stone that divided the two worlds, he looked over his shoulder, beyond the path that brought him thus far. He glared beyond the mountaintops and the grey sky. Gazing deep into the past, he embraced the warmest of his memories, and begged for the spirits to guide his path.
From this point on, what remained was the unknown of the Frozen Beyond.
“I’ll always protect you,” he whispered once more, hoping to meet his family once again.
...
...
Following chapter:
Chapter II: Daemon's Throne
________
Louis of Nutwood
For Mitgardia!
Hope you all like it, and if you had time to read (thank you!), please let me know your thoughts.
Skol! -
Aaaah, the streets of Mophet...
Such a beautiful and tranquil place.
It's amazing how the architects never miss a spot to add phenomenal complementary details - the floor pattern, the perfectly aligned vegetation, the golden details shining with the setting sun, the tainted glass, and how each single tower looks unique the yellow horizon's contour.
And way to go on the unexpected color use!
Another signature Adde51. Another outstanding build.
Skol! -
Claustrophobic!
Phenomenal use of lighting.
This is a photo filled with emotion and feeling. The mix of light and shadow, skeletons and man, all hailing and looking above for... protection, guidance, a word of courage or simply a breath of last words?
Very cool and unexpected entry, sire Niku.
Skol.
CDC1 Tale: The Birthday Massacre
in Guilds of Historica
Posted
Such a beautiful story, Kahir.
I like how we instantly connect with the little princess and her desires, cheering for her all the way through this pleasant reading, to a very original and satisfying end. Awesome work!
Great work with the vegetation too. It's always a challenge to fit so many minifigures in a single MOC, but you pulled it off with mastery.
Great work, mate!
Skol!