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Recently, Eoin had heard the news that the traitor Erdan had escaped captivity! Instead of sending someone else out to look for him Eoin had decided to take matters into his own hands, he had known Erdan for along time. So he had set out into the woods, but instead of finding Erdan he had found the out post of a few orcs. he did know Erdan had been rescued by orcs so he decided to investigate... The first orc had already readyed it's spear by the time he approached, so soon he was stuck in a battle to the death! This orc was not the best fighter though, so he managed to strike it down with little trouble. Soon another one came round so he finished him off with a few swift blows. Now all the orcs were gone, he decided to search the outpost for any information on why there was an orc outpost so close to Mirandor Castle. He soon found something that looked like their orders! He was lucky he had learned orc before his posting at the castle. It read: These are the orders of Mok and Bugh You are to wait at this outpost until further instructions. You must watch the humans, and make sure they don't take any more of our land back from us! Signed: Zogh human smusher Now he could understand! The orcs didn't want trouble, they wanted to defend their land, although they had rescued a criminal wich was, of course against the law. He would need to think on this one...
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After a long and uncomfortable journey, Erdan was woken suddenly as the carriage was knocked over! He was being taken to Erikson to go to a more secure prison than the one at Mirandor Castle. Now that he lifted his head and looked around, he saw an orc war party coming to attack! First they attacked the guards and then one even came around the back broke the door open and one asked him "why were you arrested?" "I tried to sneak into Mirandor Castle" replied Erdan, "why did an orc war party come to help me?" " We were told by one of our own that you were trying to sneak in, and that he gave you directions. So we watched the door and you didn't come out" said the orc " we were all very nervous when they assigned Eoin to the castle near the marshes, because we thought they were trying to take our lands and we thought you might know more. Can you help us?" "Alright, i'll try" said Erdan. More photos on flickr
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"Pass it on", Category A entry for Challenge III. I got a bit carried away when writing the story for the build. If you prefer to just look at the pictures the compressed backstory is that the build shows a secret meeting between some Mitgardia nobles where they are planning a rebellion against the Guild of Mitgardia. All around the castle there are rumors and gossips about the events. In the stronghold of Sir Uldain, lord of Bleywood, things are stirring. Strange people are coming and going, lords have paid visits and mercenaries are camping outside the walls. Words travel fast in a big household, and it reaches every corner of it, even deep down into the darkest dungeons... Shivering Ettu, the far-traveled little man from the Northern-most part of the Clan Lands of Mitgardia, could just about hear the conversation that the guards were having outside his cell. They spoke of Sir Uldain and his guests. Apparently the lord had invited both two of the neighboring lords and a captain of a mercenary band. All the armed soldiers belonging to various factions had the guards on their toes and one of them shared her doubts about the true allegiance of the guests. Ettu didn't know what to make out of it, he didn't know who these people were or why they were there. It was difficult for him to care about anything really, locked up as he was. But still... the talk among the guards had been increasing during the latest weeks. There were a tension that forebode something grand and radical in the atmosphere of the stronghold. If something could change are break up the monotony of the realm, perhaps there were a small chance that Ettu could finally be free again? He had lost count of the days he had spent in his cell, but by the changing of seasons he figured it must have been about five years since he came to Bleywood... - Those bear soldiers look especially untrustworthy, I don't see why the lord let them stroll around the castle like this. ´- Relax, they are only allowed to walk around the village and into the courtyard, no one is allowed inside. Besides, they spend good money in the taverns. Alesia over at The Burping Rock said she'll be able to keep the fires going all winter thanks to all that gold those bears spread around them. Being a mercenary sure pays off it seems. - Whatever. I'm not interesting in joining them anyway. I'll stay loyal to the lord, especially with what may come... In the cell across from Ettu some imprisoned robbers also listened carefully at the conversation from the guards. - Maybe the mercenaries are here to recruit more soldiers? I know that sometimes they pick prisoners to join their ranks so this could be our chance to get out of this place! - Good idea! Hey, guards! Get over here! We need to talk! In the consulting room at the bottom floor of the castle three men were eagerly waiting for the negotiations upstairs to finish. The man with a wolf emblem on his tunic looked over the maps on the table again and again. - We should definitely go for the Antler river first. Controlling that gives us power over the most important trade routes south from Mitgardia. - Yes but the guild knows this too. They have strong garrisons in Vaholl and can easily reinforce by transporting more troops from the Winter Lakes region. The coastal cities along the Tradewind Bay should be our first target instead. That way we can establish contacts with potential allies in Avalonia and control much of the trade to Varlyrio. - You guys are too blinded by your lords' desire for gold and control over trade routes. Don't you think the guild will come down on you wherever you choose to attack first? You need to think strategically and make sure the Steward and his men underestimates your threat. Lure them into believing it's just a small uprising of angry peasants and then take them by surprise. With a bit of luck we will get some prisoners, that is a sure way of expanding the war budget. - Back off! You know the rules, no Ulfgangs or Teddy's Bears are allowed inside the castle. That's a direct order from the Lord of Bleywood. - Come on Gorm, we just want to know what's happening at the meeting. - And can't you smell the food cooking in the kitchen? I bet you there's stew, and roasted turkey and freshly baked bread and... - Bah! There's a wonder we even have an apple left in our larders with you guys here having done nothing but stuffing your faces for almost a fortnight. I don't envy the farmers downstream... eh, I mean... - Downstream? Towards the Antler River? Is that where we are going? - Forget what I said! The lords are busy and so should you be! Now get lost! In the kitchen the meals for lords and ladies were being prepared, and the kitchen boy just delivered an update on how far the lords had come in their discussions. - The Lord says they will dine within the hour, Miss. - Oh my... And how am I supposed to finish all these dishes in that time? It's so stressful to have make so many different dishes. Lord Ulfgang only eats his own recipes with that strange black sauce and Lord Bruin demands so many different spices. It's probably some expansive habit he's gotten into while traveling to Kaliphlin. - You might have more work coming, Miss. I overheard them talking about some lord from Tradewind Bay coming here as well and you know how much they love their seafood there. - Now that does it! I'm going to have a serious talk with Lady Bleywood about this. I can't keep up with the workload any more! Please Jarki, run and fetch your cousins Elmir and Tym as quickly as you can. First I need all the hands I can get to help me prepare the dinner! Upstairs, the highborn men and women of two old and proud families of Mitgardia were engaged in a hot-tempered debate. - Lady Ulfgang, I guarantee that if you try to avoid your share of the costs one more time this deal is off! I may be old but I'm not blind and this draft does not include your family's name among the financiers. - Lord Bleywood, I'm shocked that you think I might have done this on purpose! We fully support the arrangement we agreed upon yesterday, I assure you. - Spare me your excuses Lady, I've heard them before. Just change the draft to actually say what we have decided. Bleywood and Ulfgang both support Lord Theodore Bruin's Company with 40 % of their expenses for at least 4 months, or until the trade route to Avalonia is secured. The rest of the costs will be paid in land and rights to extract taxes after the conquest. - I don't like this Father, I don't trust these wolfs! They've tricked us before and will trick us again. As soon as the Steward appears with his troops they will run back into the forest with their tails between their legs! - Sir Udraigh! You might be the son of our host and heir to Bleywood but you have no right to speak about my noble family like that. Apologize at once or I'll have my champion challenging you to a duel! - Malvia, stop eavesdropping! You know your father strictly told you to not interfere anymore in the negotiations. - But Mother! What they speak of is treason! This is a real rebellion against the Guild of Mitgardia! Why isn't anyone doing anything? - Don't say that word! Your father is doing what is best for this family, by whatever means necessary. Have you forgotten all those taxes the Guild imposed on us because of their own failures of keeping the peace. We owe nothing to the Guild! Now step away from the door before anyone notices you! Up on the roof by the dovecote another hushed dialogue was taking place. - Quickly now, if someone comes up here now we are screwed! - I know, I know. I just got hold of the damn dove. I hope it's as fast as usual, the Steward needs to know about this scheme as fast as possible. - Is it really enough to only send one message? What if it gets caught by a bird of prey, or a fox, or shot down by an archer? - No time for any more! Your shift ends anytime now and I can't be here when you reliever comes up. It's been a while since I last built any GoH, but thankfully my friends talked me into it again. This was a fun build with many difficult angles and snotted areas that had to add up somehow. To give the build a Mitgardian feel to it I tried to avoid too lush greenery and incorporate a lot of wooden structures in the castle. I'm reusing my old character of Shivering Ettu from more than five years ago. Hopefully he will soon get out and see more of the world of Guilds of Historica, just as his creator. :)
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Previously: A New Post at Gammeltårn Party Supplies The elves had arrived in the harbor of Forstlys as the first light of dawn warmed the horizon. Hastening forth from their ship, they had immediately requested an audience with the lord of the isle. Now they stood in the hall as Kjell and his father strode in, several guards of the Stromvakt following closely behind. One elf wearing armor trimmed in green stepped forward and bowed low as the men approached. "My lord," he began,"I wish that my return to these shores were in happier times and on business less urgent, but I fear that I bear word of trials and troubles yet to befall your lands." Kjell felt his father bristle beside him, weighing his answer to a greeting that some might consider a veiled threat. "Friends," the wizened lord replied,"your arrival here is quite unexpected, and your news, it seems, unwelcome. We have seen much trouble already of late, and had hoped that the worst was put behind us. You must tell us more of this new threat. From whence does it come? What are we to expect? Why does it come now?" "Alas, my lord, to describe the origins of this evil would be to tell a tale that spans millennia, for it is tied to the fate of the same people who built these very halls three ages ago," the elf explained, gesturing at the ancient stones around them. Kjell struggled to hide his shock at hearing this, but if his father were surprised he concealed it quite well. "I would know all I can of the trials we are to face," contested the lord. "The day is yet young. Come, tell us all you can, ere your errand carries you onward, as I'm sure you've many more to tell this news." The emissary then related to them the tale of the Pinnothen, who had come to great power in the north of Historica - long before it was known as such - until they fled internal strife and untold disasters and followed their Chosen Prince into the east. There they found vast lands, called the Great Wings, in the grip of countless slavers and the many dark elf kingdoms who employed them. The Pinnothen hosts freed and embraced every slave they found, and drove the elves before them relentlessly. The cunning and cruelty of the Eastern Drow could not withstand the righteous fury of the Chosen People and the vengeance of former subjects let loose upon their old masters. In their new home, the Pinnothen created a mighty new empire that far surpassed the power they had known in the west, and which still stood unrivaled. With their armies crushed and their once-vast holdings reduced to a handful of remote, barren islands, the Drow turned to dark sorcery as a means to regain their strength. For years uncounted they labored and practiced, perfecting the art of swaying the mind and enhancing the body. Eventually they perfected their rituals, and began to grow their ranks once more with a fierce creation spawned from their hapless prisoners and few remaining slaves. The creatures they created took their name from the mark left by the unholy magic that had made them: the Hand of Corruption. Slowly, the Drow explored their new strength of arms, lending their beasts in small number to various warlords and despots, sowing chaos wherever possible and testing the potency of their creations until, finally, they found an enticing target. While the Pinnothen remained unchallenged and unassailable in the Great Wings, an insolent would-be ruler named Raavage had found great success with a relatively small contingent of the Hand of Corruption in the old homeland of the Pinnothen. Though he may have ultimately been defeated, Raavage's efforts had taken a heavy toll on the people and the land, and Historica was now ripe for conquest by a greater force. The Drow finally had their opportunity, and would hold nothing in reserve now. "My presence here is as a warning," the emissary finished. "You must prepare yourselves, and guard your alliances cautiously. The Drow will sow seeds of discord among you to ease their advance. I fear they have already begun to infiltrate the ranks of those who would oppose them. My people have already captured many of their spies upon the seas east of here, and I am certain many more have eluded us." Kjell immediately thought of the strange exchange with the Rigr that had recently brought him here to Forstlys. "My lord," Kjell interjected, "before our guests take leave of us, there is more I must ask of them..."
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Mill "Mitgardia's farmers feed the guild. They are up before dawn and work till well after sunset. They face any number of challenges they can't control, from too much rain to not enough, from diesease to insect infestations." This will be integrated in a larger layout i'm working on. The mill is my entry to Age of Mitgardia - the mill category.
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To the very end of a treacherous dirt road, west of the Bay of Storms, lay a small fortress called Svalg Keep. The fortress was erected by the Old Men, where the winds were heavy, the temperature was low, and no man had reason to pass by. It was intentionally built away from any city or village, for it only kept functioning as a prison. As we advanced through the muddy road, small bits of the fortress appeared magnificently between the trees covered in snow. The dim light of the lanterns that kept Svalg keep alive looked blurred and weak from a distance. Its walls, built into the rock, were partially cracked and covered in snow. The more we approached, the more Svalg Keep looked old and forgotten. When we reached the walls, I jumped aside. - Open the gates! Open the gates! – I shouted. – The wagon has been taken! A grey-haired man with fuzzy whiskers appeared on the wall. He stretched a fiery lantern in front of him so he could better see us. - Who’s there? – He asked. His voice was deep and strong. - We’ve been attacked! They are coming this way! Let us in! For a moment, the man hesitated and gnarled. His lantern went away. The cold was harsh, but I could feel the drops of sweat trickling down my chest. Our horse was unquiet, jumping and crying. Please, please, open the gates. I was hoping to hear something coming from within the keep, but one could only hear the whispering wind and the falling leaves. - Hey! – I yelled again. – We need help! Nothing. I pulled the reins and approached the giant wooden doors of the keep until we were close enough. I punched the door again and again. If they find out that we are disguised... A crackling sound came from the inside. The door opened. We were received by the same bearded man. He was tall, strong, and although he seemed old, age did not appear to have taken his tenancy. Could be the cold or simply the genetics of the Lion clan, I could not say. He stood firmly as a war general and wielded his long-sword as if it didn’t weight a thing. - Get inside. How long before the attackers reach us? Got him. - A quarter of an hour, no more than that. But we must check his wounds – I pointed at Hob, helping him off the horse. - There are tools in the armory. Head there and see through his wounds as I gather our men to prepare for battle. The plan was working perfectly. We were let inside the keep and made our way to the armory. We entered a small room, packed with wooden cabinets, clipboards and mainly weapon racks, that made the room seem even smaller than it already was. The stony dark grey walls were cold and the feeling inside was humid, what made the cold even tougher. The room was poorly lit with candles casting shadows on the walls that seemed to twinkle like gold. - We did it! I whispered cheerfully. - Easy, Kid. There is plenty we still need to do. – said Hob calmly and analytical as always. He glanced into the room anticipating the other guard’s arrival – We need something to block them in here. Perhaps that cabinet might... His words vanished as he caught sight of three guards entering the room, leaded by the grey-haired general. - Christoff Hobard. – his deep voice echoed through the room. – We were waiting for you. __________ Greetings, fellow builders! This is the first time I'm posting on Eurobricks. Hope you all like it. The story follows a series of MOCs about Louis of Valnötsträd, my character. You can check all the chapters so far on my Flickr page (www.flickr.com/photos/louisnutwood/). This building will count as a Free-Build for Mitgardia, in Guilds of Historica. Let me know what you all think. Hope you like the result. Louis of Valnötsträd
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Eoin had not anticipated the journey to his castle to be so eventful. One of the more memorable times, was when he had stayed the night at the home of one of his old friends from the army. His friend, Erdan, had taken up residence in an old abandoned tower located just east of Falkidalr. One day during his stay at the tower, Eoin was just waking up when he heard a great commotion going on outside! After he went outside he saw a group of orcs coming to assault the tower! Apparently the orcs didn't want him getting to his castle that was situated in the mountains close to the orc marshes...
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Eoin was very exited! He had been given orders to go to some mountains close to the orc marshes to oversee a castle that had been recently built there. His own castle! He could not stop thinking about it as he gazed at all the little wooden watchtowers along the road, they really looked like the turrets on a castle...
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Here are the links to the photos: Mitgardian snowball fight-main Mitgardian snowball fight-extra Mitgardian snowball fight-extra I am sorry they are links but I could not simply attach them because they were to big, even when I shrunk them!
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Just a small moc of Eoin Wallace patrolling Mitgardia.
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The man hated this place. He hated coming out here, into the depths of the Badlands, hated meeting with those withered creatures, hated waiting for them in the cold shadow of this great, unsettling thing. Yet, here he was, nonetheless. He first saw their tiny figures when they mounted a distant dune. He watched them steadily descend its face into the next valley, then several moments later they appeared again, closer now, still coming at an even pace, unhindered by the rising heat that began to pulse in shimmering waves off of the endless sea of sand. They reached the crest of the penultimate dune, and his horse, which had been idly pulling at the burnt stalks of some long-dead shrub, came to him nervously pressed its head against his shoulder. Even she didn't like these meetings. In a few more moments they were there before him, and the first among them spoke. "Your task is done, then?" it rasped, its red eyes flickering behind the rags that held it together. "Of course," the man answered stiffly. "The proper people were paid, the peasants were fed, the shows went on., as promised." "So say our listeners. You have again performed...more than adequately. Your payment will be delivered to the oasis south of the Fallen Angel on the fifth day hence. A portion will also be delivered, to be used towards our efforts. Return to this place in two fortnights for further instruction. This is an adequate rendezvous, is it not?" "I'd prefer somewhere closer to water," the man said slowly. "My horse doesn't do well so far out here." "Perhaps a camel would suit you better," the creature dismissively returned. "No, closer to water is closer to eyes that might see that which must not be seen. Our meetings must remain unmarked. Besides, this place is significant to us." The man didn't respond. He'd tried, though he didn't expect to get much better from such dealers as these. He began to turn to leave when the creature spoke again. "Do you know why this place is notable?" Its voice seemed distant now, its gaze rolled slowly up and down the strange grey stones of the spire, and still the man didn't respond. "This marks the site of a great victory for our kingdom. Here, where lay their last great city, was the final gasp of an ancient empire, who came before even the god-kings of old. In their time they knew power unrivaled, ruled over lands innumerable, counted themselves as masters over earth, sky, and sea, and yet they are gone, and we remain. Our armies crushed them to a man, their halls and towers were torn to the ground, and our mighty king wrapped the very stones in the loving arms of this desert. Such is the fate of those who would stand before us!" Its eyes flashed brightly as its voice came to a crescendo, then just as suddenly the creature was silent. "As you say." The man bowed his head and turned, walking his horse back past the spire, the way he had come. "Remember," called the creature, and the man paused and looked back, "Our great master is generous to those who serve him well. Give thanks, and pray that you never fail him." The man bowed his head again, and both parties turned and left. When he was sure the creatures could no longer see him, he mounted his horse and spurred her away as fast as she would run.
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The roof can be removed to reveal the inside. ‘After the destruction of Helgestorp my father and my mother, pregnant with me, her second son, fled the city. My older brother was only 2 years old at the time. Together with several others rendered homeless by the canons and flames they fled high up in the mountains. Here, after a week long journey through the bitter cold and endless snow, they found a spring concealed in the warm gloom of a small cave. Exhausted by the mountains heavy ordeal and glad to have finally found water and shelter they decided to stay there, knowing that traveling any further would cost even more lives and going back was simply not an option. Soon they discovered that the snowy forests, despite their icy silence, were buzzing with life and a village of small wooden houses would soon surround the cave that saved many broken lives. My story begins in this village that repelled the cold and dark of the mountains.’ -Ronan I posted this later than planned because of a very busy period for me. But still, here is my third free-build. This build can be seen as an upgrade from my first free build and is the start of Ronan’s story. The build represents the home of Ronan Lund. The roof doesn’t look great because I ran out of white slopes and had to make it with only a few wedge plates. The front of the house looks a bit odd, this is also because I ran out of pieces. Tips and other forms of feedback are very much appreciated.
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The festival ended. Around a campfire are Lady Eleanor, her advisor Master Vilarius, Loth Strongarm and Davos of Avalonia. Davos – "I must say, Milady, I enjoyed the festival and meeting the people of Bluevale." Lady Eleanor – "Yes, it was a joyous occasion. In no small part thanks to you and your father's generosity." Davos – "I am pleased to have been of help. The Queen's envoy has taken assessment of the needs of the Vale and its people. We will depart tomorrow and Milady can expect a convoy with many more supplies as soon as it can be arranged." Lady Eleanor – "I will speak with the envoy before he departs and give him my thanks. These supplies will greatly increase the speed at which Bluevale can recover and prosper again." Davos – " The Demon's Ridge has long stood as a buffer between Avalonia and Mitgardia's heartland. The Queen's envoy hopes a prosperous Bluevale might become a bridge between our peoples. That is something I also desire." Master Vilarius – "Wise words, young Davos. Just be advised that requests and gifts can turn to demands and tribute in a very short time." Davos – "Thank you, Master Vilarius for your advice. My father also spoke something similar. I must leave and rest for the journey will be hard." Loth Strongarm – "My... The Lady's Rangers will escort your company through the south passes." Davos – "Thank you Sit Loth. A pleasant evening Milday Eleanor and Master Vilarius." Lady Eleanor – "Well, what do you think of this turn of events." Loth Strongarm – "Avalonian aid. That might not sit well with some of the clans. We have endured and survived alone for so long." Master Vilarius – "Yet to simply survive is not enough." Lady Eleanor – "No it is not. It is my wish to see Bluevale a secure and flourishing community. To build a legacy that will persist and make our children and their children proud." Loth Strongarm – "Young Davos certainly has plans of his own." Master Vilarius -"Naturally. He too wants to find his lot in life. Hopefully his plans will converge with ours." Lady Eleanor – "And what of the Queen's envoy?" Loth Strongarm – "Unf. It seemed to me that he was more interested in whatever possible riches the Vale might contain or produce than in the people's needs." Master Vilarius – "Is that so? Then we must tread carefully.." The discussion continues for some time before the three turn in for the night.
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Challenge II - Category B - Mid-Spring Festival in Bluevale
Bracari posted a topic in Guilds of Historica
Winter has passed and the snow-covered land thaws, the early Spring floods have subsided. After spending most of the Winter huddled in their homes the clans from different areas of Bluevale gather for the Mid-Spring festival. On the center of the Festival grounds stands a large pole decorated with wild flowers and green vines. At the market food and other goods are traded. A patch was cleared for games and tournaments. Axe-throwing being the most popular among them. Lady Eleanor and Davos listen as the dwarf blacksmith expounds on the acceptable craftsmanship of the vales' axes while boasting that he and his brother will bring new and improved methods and products as soon as their workshop is set-up. This year's festival has added attractions as the Lady has hired a troupe of entertainers, a jester, a minstrel and a puppeteer. Davos' caravan of goods supplement the Lady's own efforts in supplying the people with abundant and varied food and drink. The people are happy in disposition and spirit. Such a grand festival is a distant memory shared only by the oldest. -
Illaryian, Varlyrio Even in times of peace, it is sometimes necessary to maintain the practices of war. Supano Amancio and his advisors considered ways to fulfill the Queen's decree and eventually had the idea of reviving the old sport of Calcio as a way to not only promote cohesion between the Guilds, especially newly welcomed Varlyrio, but also as a way to keep the warriors of the Guilds doing something where their skills are useful off the battlefield. An exhibition game between teams made up of Kaliphlini and Mitgardian warriors was hastily planned. The warriors, of course, very much enjoyed a chance to meet on any field of honor. It's important to remember that Calcio is a rough game, however, The ball is heavy and must be maneuvered with the full strength of the body. Between the ball and the martial prowess of the players, Calcio often leads to injuries. The Mitgardian and Kaliphlin onlookers react with horror or elation as a Mitgardian player goes down in a spray of blood across the sand. The Varlyrians in the crowd are mostly bemused at the peoples of other Guilds playing their ancient sport. Queen Ylspeth herself has turned up for the exhibition. Though a part of her would rather be walking among the people, taking in their reactions and the general pulse of her subjects, she can't argue with the superior view of the game from the rooftop. She is flanked by Cedrican guards and N'ri, her friend from Mwamba, as well as a young woman from Mitgardia. Alva Tyrnsdottir has walked a long road from Arnarvhall, but she is proud to be in the Queen's service. As trade and travel open between the Guilds, plenty of people from Kaliphlin are able to show up for their team's big game. On the other side of the sand, the Mitgardians have also turned up in numbers. Unused to the heat of Varlyrio, many have shed their furs and leathers in favor of the lighter clothing of their southern territories. Varlyrians move about the plaza where the game has been set. A Knight of Sana Argenta offers water to a thirsty minotaur sailor. Warriors, sailors, and people from all around Varlyrio move about on their business or stop to watch. Crown Knights of Cedrica mix with Varlyrian orders, prominently patrolling in parade armor to show that they are there to keep the peace and promote the mix of cultures. The game also provides a good cover for meetings of import between important Guild Leaders... Supano Amancio and Elon Chorian make no effort to hide who they are, nor what they discuss. For now, this is a chance meeting (or meant to seem like one) which, for anyone who doesn't know Chorian, might explain why he has no guards. Amancio is flanked by two members of other Varlyrian Houses, periodically drafted as ceremonial guards to promote cooperation among the Houses and giving a Rego a chance to get to know rising stars. It seems obvious that these two may meet again. Perhaps with the High Queen. Perhaps not. What might come out of that meeting, however, is anyone's guess... -- Thanks for looking! Builder's Notes:
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A group of various Mitgardian lords and leaders meets in Daydelon after hearing reports of Queen Ylspeth's new edict. Glorfindel quickly got down to business: "All of you represent different groups of Mitgardians. How do they all feel about these new regulations on taxes, public entertainment to be funded by the nobles, and grain from Avalonia?" There was a moment of silence as the council members considered their replies. Karsten and Glorfindel had already discussed the issue with each other before the council. And in the end it was Vagn, a wealthy merchant, who spoke up first. "Meddling with Mitgardian business, that's what this is! Never trust governments to get involved with trade, it always ends up costing you more than it gives. And ultimately this 'free grain' is just being paid with by our own taxes! Not to mention these taxes aren't just going to the crown, but into the pockets of those tree loving Avalonians!" Lady Alsnotr of the Strong Shield clan quickly responded: "Even if the grain is being paid for by our tax money, surely it's advantageous to receive grain before our tax payments are submitted? Many of our smaller clans and villages are struggling to maintain their food supplies, and we'll need good stocks prepared to make it through another tough winter." "You all act as if this sort of thing hasn't been done before," put in Brigor, an aged dwarf of Hradcanny. "Edicts on food, trade, and taxes were common place enough when we had a King in Cedrica; why should our Queen be any different? No, it's the inclusion of these public spectacles that makes me wary. What is Ylspeth trying to distract our people from? She's practically forcing nobles to put on these events with her tax requirements." "Surely she could just be looking to brighten the common folks lives?" Ovarr asked. As a well-known hunter and trapper, the young man was far from wealthy and passed through many small villages and towns during his expeditions. "Whatever our suspicions of her motives, we have no choice in the matter currently," stated Drottin Manaor, Mitgardia's Prime Minister and representative of parliament. "Though it may not be in our best interests, we are in no position to defy the Throne of Cedrica. Mitgardia badly needs some years of peace to regain strength." "I'm afraid Drottin is right, for now we will have to watch and wait to see how our new Queen handles Historica. Those of you with concerns are welcome to summarize your thoughts in letters which I can include in our next official correspondence with our representatives in Cedrica." Glorfindel sighed as he sat back in his chair. When Ylspeth had been inaugurated the country rejoiced, for it brought some much sought stability to the lands. And while many of the common people were excited by the promise of entertainment, the current sense of discontentment and suspicion among the nobles and wealthy was hardly encouraging.
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See the previous tales: Wyndor's Saga: Chapter 1 -What Has Past- Chapter 2 -What Has Past- Chapter 3 -What Has Past- Chapter 4 -Grevling Manor -House Raising Party -Survival -Grevling Manor Great Hall Not everyone who lives in Mitgardia is a law abiding citizen. Certain denizens call the frozen north of Historica their home, but they choose to live hidden away. Alistair's band of Minotaurs is one such group. They prey on local farmers throughout the area, seizing crops and releasing livestock. Many Minotaurs have come to accept that cattle can be used as beasts of burden without insulting the Minotaur race, but Alistair wants better for the animals that share such resemblance with his kind. They have made their home in a large cave about 20 miles outside Dalig Ulv. There they plan their next ventures.
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They had set the table at the eastern side of the vast rotunda, near enough to an opening that they got plenty of light, but not so near that the wind would blow all their charts and maps away. Here they spent many hours each day, deliberating on designs and consulting the records they had dug out of what seemed to be a library, several floors below them. This tower was the largest in the complex, ancient beyond all reckoning, and yet largely unspoiled by the long northern winters and the harsh salt winds that blew off of the Bay of Storms, and so it had been selected as the center of their operations as they went about exploring the rest of the ruins and establishing facilities to house, feed, and outfit the new garrison. Makny and his cousin Kjell looked over the many parchments again as Kjell reported on the latest surveys. "We have taken full account of the lower districts along the water, but only a portion of the central ruins have been fully charted. Of the openings in the cliffs in the upper district, we have found many, but I will not yet say that all have been discovered, nor have we had men enough to spare to determine how these caves and tunnels connect." "Thank you cousin," Makny replied, "It seems that we will need to request further resources from your father. How has work progressed to clear the pass?" The entrance to the bay was a narrow track that wound through the rocky hills of the Burial Isle in the south. In many places it had been obstructed by landslides or washed away by long-gone rivers, so that it was difficult to follow on foot, and nearly impassable to a wagon and a team of oxen. Supplying the settlement had been difficult in the summer months, and with winter approaching it would be nearly impossible. "Work along the trail is slow," Kjell admitted tiredly, "It seems that the only travelers it has seen these past years have been game." Makny rubbed his eyes and bent closer to the maps, as if on their thousandth viewing they would reveal some new path into the cove that had yet gone unnoticed. Suddenly they heard footsteps and heated words from below, and Makny turned as several men reached the top of the stairs across the room. At the front came a rough looking man with an air of importance, followed closely by several of his guards, and trailed by one of Makny's hapless lieutenants. "Sir, I've told you, the commander is busy!" the lieutenant puffed. He had obviously been trying to stop the men for several floors now, to no avail. "And I've told you, your head of the household guard can make time for a Rigr who is here on the Jarl's business," the man snapped back. Makny waved the lieutenant off as the visitors swept onward, and mustered up the most hospitable tone he had at his disposal. "My lord Hammel, welcome. It is good of you to come visit us in our new quarters." "Enough of your jests," the man cut in sharply, "We are both busy men." Makny's face hardened. "Indeed we are. I see your guards have come with you to these chambers; am I to bear this as an insult or to take it as a threat?" Hammel advanced toward the table, though his men kept their distance. "You are to see my men as the warning that they are. Word moves quickly in the north. Whispers abound that the Stromvakt seek for themselves a mighty stronghold, a seat from which to carve out their own lands." Makny nearly snorted. "Surely a man of your position and esteem would not believe such idle gossip. We are here at the order of my uncle, the Lord of Førstlys. After the city nearly fell to Raavage's forces, he saw the need for a place that might keep his people safe in a time of even greater peril." "I would expect you to have a good story to justify your presence," Hammel retorted, "But your words do not hold weight. The guild is wary of your work here." by "You speak of the guild as though we are not a part of it. Have you forgotten already who broke the siege of Duergvenn and rescued you and your garrison? And which colors do you see behind you on that standard? This is my uncle's land. He may do with it as he sees fit, as is his right, as is the right of any lord in this guild, in order to keep it secure against those who would do him or his people harm." "Do not speak to me of Duergvenn as if it solidifies reputation," Hammel sneered, "No victory serves only one cause. Your loyalty has yet to be truly proven." "Is that why you are here, then? To test our loyalty by telling us to leave?" "No, young lordlings," he said derisively, "I am here to present you with a summons. Your loyalty will be tested far from here, along the banks of the Antler and the shores of the Winter Lakes. The remnants of the enemy have crept from the shadows and gathered in the heartland, and now they threaten the Capitol itself. In the aftermath of these wars Chorian cannot gather enough men from his lands alone, so each true guildsman is called to go and eradicate this menace once and for all. If you indeed fight for all of Mitgardia, you are to sail for Northridge in a fortnight." Hammel ended with a smug smile. "If that is the case, I look forward to riding with you once again." "Indeed," Hammel scoffed before he whirled and swept out of the room. Makny waited until the Rigr was gone, then turned back to his cousin. "That was a strange visit." "Yes," Kjell nodded slowly, "I would have expected my father to send word of these happenings himself. The guild might have sent out the call to arms, but we may only go at his command. Of course, that is if the Rigr even speaks the truth..." Makny came around the table and the two walked towards the edge of the high battlement. "I am loath to send you away while your help is so sorely needed here, but I feel that we need to know your father's will on this matter." Kjell nodded silently. Makny felt a strange anticipation rising within him, while out over the bay the first high clouds of the afternoon drove landward. I didn't have the time to finish this before the Challenge 1 deadline, so I guess it's going to be a freebuild. My first attempt at an all-Lego scene, I still need to work on my lighting. C&C welcome on everything!
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I came up with the basic idea for this wall technique, and figured I should make a full building to see if it worked. Various builders like Simon NH, ~Cab~, and Marcel V. have used similar wall techniques before, though my execution is slightly different than theirs. The cobblestone street also uses an idea that has been implemented many times before – free floating pieces. There is a tutorial available on the wall and one for the cobblestone technique for this build will be posted in the future. It was fun to make another highly detailed building with full interior. Gardar has a fine cloth shop in Harburg, and supplies Lord Karsten with any fabrics needed for use at the castle. Today Eryl and Elise are paying for another order of textiles, and they enjoy chatting with the old merchant. "And father would like three more rolls of red wool for his troops' uniforms," Eryl stated as Elise looked around at the various fabrics on display. Sometimes Eryl was annoyed by being required to run errands for his parents, but a visit to Gardar's shop always meant fun as the old merchant was a kind man who well remembered what it was like being a young boy. Gardar replied with a cheerful smile that was all but invisible under his thick beard, "Certainly Eryl! Are you sure he doesn't want some extra cloth to make a proper uniform for you though?" "Maybe another time Gardar, Father says I'll beginning proper weapons training before long! But for today we just need those three rolls" "Well, I'm sure you'll be getting plenty of fine uniforms then. Just don't be too hard on your instructors, they're not as young as you are." Eryl laughed and said, "I'll try not to beat them up too bad," as he shared a conspiratorial wink with the merchant while giving him two coins as payment for the goods.. More pictures See all the details on Brickbuilt. Thanks for looking, your feedback is always greatly appreciated
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On the Eastern edges of the Mitgardian Tundra a Guard Tower is being rebuilt. Although it suffered minor damage the importance of this watchtower requires it to be refitted and put back into operation as soon as possible to protect Mitgardias Eastern border. In the middle of a heavily wooded area an elevator is used so as to ease the lifting of the masonry required to rebuild the structure. PS I apologize for the background it was the best I could do. Eastern Guard Tower 1 by Nicholas Goodman, on Flickr Eastern Guard Tower 2 by Nicholas Goodman, on Flickr Eastern Guard Tower 13 by Nicholas Goodman, on Flickr Eastern Guard Tower 4 by Nicholas Goodman, on Flickr Eastern Guard Tower 11 by Nicholas Goodman, on Flickr Eastern Guard Tower 5 by Nicholas Goodman, on Flickr Eastern Guard Tower 12 by Nicholas Goodman, on Flickr Eastern Guard Tower 10 by Nicholas Goodman, on Flickr Eastern Guard Tower 9 by Nicholas Goodman, on Flickr Eastern Guard Tower 8 by Nicholas Goodman, on Flickr Eastern Guard Tower 6 by Nicholas Goodman, on Flickr Eastern Guard Tower 3 by Nicholas Goodman, on Flickr Eastern Guard Tower 7 by Nicholas Goodman, on Flickr
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This is my first build for the Guilds of Historica. It took me a long time to get the cottage right, especially the roof. I would really appreciate if people have suggestions or things that I could improve in future builds. Somewhere deep within the mountains of Mitgardia a small village called flockwood will stick out of the snow like a fallen warrior not ready to give up on life. The smoke of the chimney’s rising above the trees like beacons of hope. The lights of candles flickering in the nights and the reflection of the moon and the snow like a million diamonds. Life in this village is harsh and everyone has his or her own specific task; the butcher prepares the meat, the blacksmith repairs and makes tools, the carpenter makes all sorts of furniture, the hunters will catch most of the food and so on. When someone manages to reach the village they would describe the village not as a bunch of people but as one single organism. Flockwood is not just a village it’s a family. You can find more photo's on my flickr page here.
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AoM: Farm Phase 2: Strongarm's Homestead Produce Garden
Bracari posted a topic in Guilds of Historica
The path out of the orchard leads Sir Loth Strongarm by the family's produce garden, lush with crops. There he sees his granddaughter Yura, the middle child of his son Stenon, harvesting vegetables. Hard working, strong-willed and beautiful as her mother. She is of marrying age but, like her older brother, does not seem to give much thought to it yet. Granted, the current small Vale community does not have many potential compatible suitors. Another thing that might change with the return of Lady Eleanor, with the possibility of the return of some of those who left the Vale and the arrival of new settlers. -
While out riding one day, Makny's horse spooked and veered off the road, galloping through a field of tall grass. Makny was irritated, but not worried; he had ridden fast before. He tugged on the reins and chided the horse, trying fruitlessly to steer her back to the road, not watching the ground in front of him, until suddenly the horse was rising beneath him. He lost hold of the reins. His legs flew clear of the saddle. He flailed and grasped at the air. Now he was worried. He coughed and sputtered on the ground, struggling to regain his breath after a thick tuft of grass had knocked the wind from his lungs. After a few moments his father was over him, still in his own saddle, with Makny's horse at his side. "You're lucky," he said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You just missed that rock." Makny grimaced and rolled over onto his hands and knees, coming face-to-face with the stone that could have killed him had his head fallen a few inches to the left. He stumbled to his feet, limped defiantly over to grab the reins from his father's hand, and clambered back atop his unruly mare. As they picked their way back through the field an old saying played at the back of his mind. "A man is not beaten until he stops getting up."
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Sir Loth Strongarm walks through the Apple Orchard of his family's homestead and reminisces on the past. He lost his wife, daughter and most of his family when a volcanic eruption destroyed his home village, while he and his two eldest sons where on a mission patrolling the high passes of the mountain ranges that surround Bluevale. Luckily his youngest son, Stenon, survived the natural disaster. He stood by his Lord, Brius, when Brius' brother tried to usurp his place. In the ensuing conflict both his eldest sons died in combat. Although victorious Lord Brius departed to the Capital leaving Loth Strongarm as Steward of Bluevale and protector of its people, the few that remained after the hard times fell on Bluevale.He trained his youngest son as a tracker and warrior as himself, to one day replace him.When his son married Skyra they settled in a small clearing on the slopes of the northwestern mountains of the vale.In the intervening years the farm has grown and prospered and so has the family. Strenon now has three children of his own, Robb the eldest son, a daughter named Yura and the boy Tarrys. Returning his thoughts to the present and to Lady Eleanor, Lord Brius' grand-daughter, who is returning to reclaim her dominion of Bluevale. He sent Stenon and Robb to escort her party through the mountain passes. They should arrive soon and one thing he is certain of is that life in Bluevale will change yet again. A few more photos can be seen at https://flic.kr/s/aHskDb2fP2 Any comments are welcome. Pretty new to this world and eager to learn and improve my skills.
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The journey had felt long to Makny, though it was only a few days slow ride from Førstlys. He and his father had been through several towns and villages along the way, though they had kept to themselves rather than announce their presence. As his father said, it was far easier for them to learn the minds of the people if the people did not know who they were. So they had traveled alone, unannounced, and humble, observing what they could from horseback and making note of what directions they ought give along their return trip. They overtook an older fellow leading a cart laden with bags of grain just before entering the village of Sorgheim. As they passed through the gate, Makny saw what appeared to be a large lantern set in the center of a circle of eight carved stone columns. The glass inside it was broken, and its columns were worn and crumbling, with moss slowly climbing their bases. Makny watched the townsfolk pass the lantern indifferently, but he could not ignore it. “Father, what is that?” he gestured as he asked. His father answered slowly, seeming to concentrate on weaving his horse through the traffic around them. “A remnant,” came the reply, “of a people long gone from these shores. All but forgotten, I think... though we might see for ourselves soon enough.” There was a concealing air and a strange distance to his voice, though Makny barely registered it, caught up as he now was in the activity that swirled around them. Everywhere the village folk were hard at work, hustling to and fro, shouting greetings back and forth, while above it all the Jarl's soldiers stoically paced the barricade. They followed the sandy, well-worn path up the hill, past the flour mill and the low-slung storehouse, and deeper into the village proper. Overhead, the early summer sun was bright in a clear blue sky. As it shone warmly on his shoulders, Makny began to feel the drowsy weight of several nights spent in the dew on ground, and he hoped against hope that tonight might find him in a soft bed with a roof above him.
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