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Quietude “Close your eyes for a moment and cherish the dark. Can you feel the warmth of the sun? Can you feel the gentle touch of the blowing wind? Can you feel the waves moving up and down, washing the sand and taking away all your worries? With eyes closed, stare into the horizon. Embrace your past and face your future. Know that what is done cannot be changed, only accepted. And what lays beyond is your destiny, waiting to be written. One step. One stone at a time. What do you see?” “I see a little farm. Pine trees in a distance. Apples and cherries as well. Horses galloping free. I see water. Running, falling, washing the land anew. I see a thin breath of air swirling up, dancing out of a chimney. The air smells of rosemary bread. I can hear the bells ringing with the stroll of a cow. Feels like home. And I cannot wait to go inside. Someone is expecting me. Someone I have missed for so, so long. I open the door. There is a woman by the heath, curled in a wool blanket. Next to her, a furry thing coiled like a pretzel. “Is it a chicken?” “No! It’s a dog!” “Aw. Who is she?” “The most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” Her big brown eyes glistened, reflecting the world painted gold. Staring at me, I saw beyond every mountain and every sea. I saw the future I would pursue with every heartbeat. Louis of Nutwood __________ Summer Joust, Category 12x12 Hope you like it. Skol!
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Jelsa's Ice Castle A freebuild for Avalonia set in Mitgardia Far to the north in Mitgardia, at the edge of the Frozen Beyond (whether in the Frozen Beyond or just on the Mitgardian side is hard to say, as the cartographers are rather imprecise about that region), there is a small kingdom ruled by a kindly, though rather stupid, old king. His wife died many years before, and he spends his time playing with a sophisticated system of interlocking toys and trying to convince his only child, his spoiled and deeply loved daughter, that she should marry some prince. The daughter, Princess Jelsa, however, had other plans, and, since she is also a powerful ice witch, she froze every suiter her father brought to her. But one day, things went so far that she ran away to the back of the North Mountain and built herself an Ice Castle with her powerful ice magic. And there she stands, and there she will stay, unbothered by the cold. Cold hands, colder heart, they say. Unedited version: ______________ ............................. I built this for the Summer Joust's vignette category. It is, of course, Elsa's Ice Castle from Frozen, but I could not resist putting it into Mitgardia, where an Ice Princess seems to fit quite well. Jelsa, however, is a creation of mine for my (as yet unpublished) 10th Anniversary GoH CMF series: Consider this a sneak peek! Comments and criticism welcome.
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Dragons are somewhat rare in Mitgardia, and while some are tamable, most are deadly if reclusive wild animals. The Western Large-Maw Wyvern species is known for eating deer, bear, and especially mammoth--putting its disproportionately large head and mouth to good use. While they typically inhabit the more remote mountains and foothills north of Erikson and avoid contact with humans, every now and then one of these winged fire-breathers is pressured out of its home range and become a hungry menace to the smaller villages in the country between Erikson, Falkidalr, Nordheim, and Northridge. It's good to build in the Guilds again! I actually started the dragon before even last year's CCC and had it almost complete back then but didn't finish it or build anything to go with it. The wing fabric was designed by me in FUSION360 and then laser cut. Totally a fantastic way to do this kind of stuff as opposed to trying to cut stud-sized holes with a leather punch or something and the outline with a rotary wheel and scissors--I tried that with a test piece, it's not fun and frayed edges are a thing. CAD makes relating all the features super accurate, even through the angles created by the hinges. More angles in the Flickr album. C&C is always good.
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Not all of Mitgardia is covered in snow year-round! Outposts in the south near Avalonia usually experience four seasons every year and are considered particularly nice postings among the Guild's soldiers. Wow, I'm truly amazed this thing has been going for 10 years now! A couple more pictures are here. C&C always appreciated!
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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!
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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!
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Felt great to do building for a GoH challenge again! The tower style is largely based on my previous Harburg Castle, which is nearly 5 years old now. Crazy. And the roof is the same basic design, and you can find our tutorial for that here. Lord Karsten always makes it a point to personally inspect the various watchtowers situated around Harburg’s borders several times a year, and often Eryl or Elise accompanies him. Recently Historica has enjoyed a time of relative peace, but Karsten won’t let his men fall into carelessness. Few more pictures on Brickbuilt.
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Previously: A New Post at Gammeltårn Party Supplies Perils Old and New Unsought but Welcome Out Through the Market Embarking Once Førstlys had disappeared in the distance, the wind caught their sails and the ship surged westward, slicing through the growing whitecaps and skipping over the deepening troughs between the swells. Their course carried them rapidly past the rocky southern coast of the Burial Isle, whose sloping hills soon grew to craggy peaks and towering cliffs. Throughout the afternoon they kept their distance from the increasingly jagged shore, for which Kjell was thankful, as the seas rolled more violently the further they sailed. He felt his nerves were tight enough just worrying about the waves, and wasn't sure he'd be able to worry about the mighty rocks against which they crashed as well. He and the other men said very little, each fighting his stomach (with varying success), while the gold-clad elves moved quickly and efficiently around them, seemingly unperturbed by the motion of their vessel. As the sun descended and lit upon the horizon, the old elf turned to his helmsman. "Vaikea olla oikealla." The helmsman shouted a few quick commands and, to Kjell's alarm, the ship wheeled about quickly and tacked rapidly to the north, directly towards the cliffs. He wanted to yell, but dared not open his mouth. In a matter of minutes the dark mass of the coast loomed before them, and to either side in the gathering twilight could be seen great sea rocks, jutting from the churning waves like gnarled fingers. Panic began to overtake Kjell; gone was the nausea, and in its place was the hollow fear that he might soon be swallowed by the endless, frigid darkness upon which they foolishly danced. Beside him the old elf was calm. Soon the foam of the mountainous swells, which relentlessly battered the rapidly-nearing cliffs, was all that could be seen in the dusk. The old elf raised his right hand before him, his left hand held to his chest, and quietly but clearly spoke, "Kuíave fōd thu luz." Out of the night a pale light shot across their path, illuminating the base of the cliffs in a blue glow, and beyond it the waves seemed to calm. Still, before the ship they yet surged, and the old elf turned once again and spoke to his helmsman, "Tee kaivoon, setten nomeasti vasemmalle." The ship shifted course slightly, cutting along a deep valley in the water. Kjell couldn't breath. The helmsman shouted again, they shot across the light onto smooth water, and immediately turned hard to port. They glided over the glassy surface, down a narrow aisle of water between the rock face and the luminous wall that held the raging sea at bay, and Kjell saw that the light progressed in a steady chain between the sea rocks. As they neared one, the dim light revealed that the wall issued from openings in a structure that was built into the landward side of the rock, hidden from any eyes that would dare to search from the Bay of Storms. Nearly as tall as the rock itself, the edifice towered over their ship as it passed. In awe, Kjell turned to the old elf and breathlessly asked, "What is this? Who built it?" Again, the slight smile played at the corners of the elf's eyes and he replied, "These are the Lánfadan. They were built in the long distant past by the Pinnothen, whose blood you share." Kjell could not summon a response so, unprompted, the elf continued, "They were a great students of the world about them, observant of the flow of energy through the earth, trees, and sky, and were insatiably curious. They soon mastered the ability channel that energy, direct it as they desired, and bend it to their considerable will." "They quickly became renowned as master builders and craftsmen, and a formidable force on the field of battle. Even among the mightiest of kingdoms in the land, the most prudent rulers chose to offer generous terms of allegiance." "But if they were so mighty, what became of them?" asked Kjell. "Unrivaled might is its own greatest threat," the elf replied. "With no opponents to face beyond their borders, the Pinnothen turned inward. Princes coveted the power of kings, and the wars that brother waged against brother all but destroyed them. But that, I think, is a tale for another night..."
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Mitgardia is home to a diverse range of inhabitants, and each and every one of them has a place they call home. Whether that be dwarven halls, norse cottages, elaborate castles, orc strongholds, or any other personal dwelling. Dwellings of Mitgardia Community Build Open to all Mitgardians, here is a new community build to encourage the development of Mitgardian dwellings across our mighty guild. Task: - Build a home for your character, or another Mitgardian citizen - No minimum or maximum size - Any scale allowed (micro, minifigure, etc.) - Interiors are encouraged, but not required - There is no limit on the number of dwellings you can create - Post a link to your completed builds here Award: Each dwelling will be added to a illustrated index in this post to serve as inspiration for future Mitgardian builds, and also to give a good idea of the sorts of dwellings found in Mitgardia. Also, completing a dwelling will earn you the title of Citizen of Mitgardia. Example builds (from Book II): Index:
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Previously: A New Post at Gammeltårn Party Supplies Perils Old and New Unsought but Welcome Out through the Market The quay was crowded with sailors and merchants who hurried between the boats, barges, and ships at dock. Smaller craft suited to the plying the island's rivers had nestled into the berths along the outer wall of the structure, while the seaworthy vessels were docked in the dredged-out depths of the inner harbor. The air was filled with shouting and laughter in countless tongues, and wares in all manner of boxes and caskets were piled all about. The Lord of Førstlys and his second son, Kjell, accompanied by Ulrik Dunwald and trailed by a small retinue of guards, forged their way through the bustling throngs. At the end of the quay they passed through the sturdy bastion that served as customs house, watch tower, and lighthouse, and out once more into the autumn sunlight. Beside the pier lay a ship unlike any they had ever seen. Brilliantly white and glistening with gold, it was larger than even the great Kaliphlian dromons that had sought shelter in the harbor during the Elemental Crisis, all those years ago. Before Kjell could find words to remark on the sight before them his father had hurried onward to the elf. The mysterious visitor, who had promised passage across the impassible seas that guarded the southern coast of the Burial Isle, strode forward to greet the approaching men. "My friends," he said, offering an outstretched hand, "the hour is upon us. Let us make haste, that we trade not kind winds for long farewells." Kjell's father took the elf's hand and spoke solemnly. "I fear that I shall never show you the true depths of my gratitude. Though perhaps fortune will yet favor me, and you shall grace our halls again ere the end of my rule. At that time I shall certainly try." The elf smiled and bowed his head, then turned and swept down the gangplank. The Lord of Førstlys turned to Kjell and placed an arm upon his shoulder. "My son, may the gods guard your footsteps and their wisdom guide your hand. Bring your cousin home." "As you will father," Kjell replied. He bowed, turned, and, followed closely by Ulrik, boarded the ship. The crew of elves moved deftly to cast off and set sail, and soon the quay was shrinking across the widening water. As Kjell lost sight of his father amid the teeming shadows and forms of an increasingly distant Førstlys, a wave of fear and resentment washed over him. He hated the formality and decorum that kept him from embracing his father in the face of uncertain fate, and he hoped with all his heart that that had not been the final farewell that they would share.
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Chapter 1 is there, Chapter 2 is here Chapter 3 Once, Ava left our house to scratch one more name from his list, it was the sixth or the seventh. Well, I can't remember well, it was so far from now... He left after borrowing a carriage from a neighbour of ours. He was supposed to come back within three days, however after the fourth day, he was still missing... When he reached home again on the sixth day, he told us that on the way back, he had a problem with an axle of the carriage and had to stop in the nearby town with a stable where the smith can repair. He didn't want to give back the carriage with a wheel broken... The village where he stopped is not so far from here and is well equipped. The stable even have an attic where they can store the hay surplus. Extract from the memories of Achille, woodman of Mitgardia You surely recognise the roof technic... Please do not hesitate to comment. I clearly need to improve the backwall (not pictured), but it will have a special thread on it later. I am still missing pieces so I "filled" more than really build it. Thanks to the medieval forge, I can now start build a little more... The textures is also a focus I need to have in future build. I will try to improve this one if he survive my kid play test. The awning is very fragile because I added it after building the left part of the stable... I was about to rebuild but it hold so I didn't touched it finally. I like the drinker for the horses but I find it a little crude. In the end, I would like to propose it for the phase 2 of stable for the Age of Mitgardia event.
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Introduction : Sigrid's journal "We were called to a meeting with the other village leaders yesterday. Jarl Elisif wanted us all to know about the victory at the Enchanted Forest. Of course, the word had already spread, and everyone was already talking about how Jarl Thimolir's bear cavalry saved the day. After months of tensions, even the most ardent sceptics now seem to veer to the side of the Queen. And that's great news. Instead of worrying about a possible war, we can now hope for peace. Instead of focusing on arming and training our people, I can now step back and also plan for the long term. It's time to rebuild Horgaard." In order to assist my sigfig's efforts to rebuild her village, I'm going to build a mead hall. And given that this is the first time I'll build such a MOC, I expect a lot of thinking, a lot of trial and error, and a lot of time. During the months by the housewarming hallwarming party, here is the thread where I'll track the progress of the construction and all the thinking behind. History Chapter 1. What could it look like? Chapter 2. Of roofs and doors Chapter 3. Woodworking Chapter 4. Construction delays Current state
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This is my entry for this year's Summer Joust, in the "Every Set Could be a Castle Set" category. It's a castle-ification of Friends set 41391 Heart Lake City Hair Salon - and a freebulid for Mitgardia as well as an Age of Mitgardia House II entry here in GoH! _______________________________ As a Dwarven barber, Per Wilkinsson had always considered that facial hair was a matter of utmost importance. A silky, impeccably plaited moustache showed off high social status in a tasteful, distinguished way. A disheveled, bushy beard indicated more than just a lack of elegance. He had been apprentice to the best barbers in Omurtag, had obtained the repected title of Master, and had learned all the arcane secrets of his art. He was at the very peak of his career when his wife unexpectedly inherited a significant mining concession in some remote, backwater corner of the Heavenly Mountains. And she decided they would move there. A simple life and the jolly atmosphere of a familial mine, away from the vicissitudes of the bustling city - that's what she suddenly wanted for their children. Undaunted, Per decided he would open his own barber shop there, civilize the local savages and bring them the light and benefits of proper beard grooming. _______________________________ As usual, a few more information of plants and animals is included in the hidden section below! And, also, a comparison with the source set.
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Previously: A New Post at Gammeltårn Party Supplies Perils Old and New Unsought but Welcome The autumn sun had nearly reached its zenith as Kjell and his father made their way from the stronghold and down to Førstlys' harbor. Avoiding the prying eyes of the High Road, they took the Watchman's Way and picked a path through the bustling Lower Market. "Father, know that I do not question your judgment, but I must know why you entrust me and my task to this envoy," Kjell pressed as they walked on. "You speak as though you are old friends, though I have never heard his mention." His father was slow to respond, pacing deliberately through the crowd with his guard behind him. "When I was young, perhaps not even half your age, we hosted this very same elf in our halls. He spoke little of his origins, though he told many tales of our own island, as if he had lived several lifetimes upon our shores already. During his short stay he taught my siblings and me to read books and scrolls from my grandfather's library that even our most learned scholars could not decipher, and he showed my father and me many of the island's secret and forgotten places. He was among us for but a few seasons, and then, quite abruptly, he departed and did not -until this day- return." "So why return now and entangle himself in our domestic affairs? While I am grateful for his aid, I am loathe to let a new friend fight our battles for us with so little a commitment of our own strength." Kjell grumbled, his legs aching to reach their destination with more urgency than his father would allow. "As he told us earlier, he believes that this domestic affair aligns with his own task, and coincides with his purpose in returning to these shores," his father replied. "Though, as to our commitment, fear not my son. Some of your compatriots returned from their ranging this morning, and have volunteered to join you in relieving your cousin. Ah! Here comes one of the very same hardy fellows!" The lord of Førstlys halted and waved as a tall, swarthy, mail-clad man cut a path through the crowd, his heavy grey cloak billowing behind him. Kjell recognized Ulrik Dunwald and his confidence swelled. It would truly be a boon to have a company of Skygger at hand. Ulrik reached them, stopped, and offered his sword as a sign of fealty. "My lord, I am yours to command!" Kjell's father inclined his head in acknowledgment, and Ulrik turned to Kjell. "My captain, it has been to long since my Shadows and I have ridden at your side. We are happy to do so once more." "And I am happy to have you at my side, old friend," Kjell replied, offering an outstretched hand. "Then let us make haste," Ulrik exclaimed. "Glory, and a ship, await!"
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Tales of Valnötstrad Svart Dyr, The Black Dragon “The man stormed into our village as a sudden summer rain. His clothes were ragged, torn, and burnt, and his sunken eyes showed what could only be described as fear in its most visceral state. Before he could mumble a word, we knew the tale. We knew the threat. How could we not? His town was the third to be attacked since last we saw the full moon. Soon, there would be no other villages left untouched, and ours was just as exposed. The man pointed to the setting sun, indicating the beast went west, where the dirt path led to the wetlands. We gathered our spears, packed our shields, and bid our loved ones farewells. Our feet sank with every step, and when the dirt path turned to mud, we heard the roar of a thousand demons, drifting among the woods. The party divided to flank whatever it was we would encounter until we reached a clearing. And there, we saw it. Its meandering tail, its thick skin made of leather, its long neck that could reach the sky. From its end, yellow fiery eyes showed no recollection of a soul, but the primitive drive of a starving animal. He opened his pale wings and embraced the water, the trees, that small group of once brave, diminished to nothing but frightened warriors... Hell, it took the whole swamp. Its belly shone and its teeth glistered with the blinding light of its breath. The cold wind became a scorching wave of flames that took our brothers and our courage in a heartbeat. But with my last sigh of hope, I grabbed the shaft of my spear and threw it at the beast. The spear hissed, cutting wind and flames before it cut the dragon’s flesh and landed on its chest. A demonic shout made the trees tremble and our hearts burst. With an impulse, the monster flapped its wings and flew away, leaving behind a hint of faith: a trail of red blood. Svart Dyr, the Black Beast is what we called it. That night, we did not kill it. It is a tale for another night. But that was the night we knew we could.” By Fiobvr the Wise, my grandfather. Louis of Nutwood ______ Built for CCCXVIII, Medieval Monster Menace Category. Hope you all like it. Would love some feedback.
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Chapter 1 is there. Story of Ava, chapter 2. It took him several years to scratch all the names on the list... He went through all Mitgardia to "complete" his list as he used to say... He came back from one of his travels and told me that he got the final clue to reach the destination of his quest thanks to a young girl. She was only six... I didn't asked how he got this clue. As usually, he stayed one or two days before leaving again... When he left our house for the last time, he explained us confusedly that he now knows where the source of all his problems lies. He can now face and destroy it. The vortex is now reachable in the ruins north of Arnarvhall. He turned back and it was one of the lasdt time we see each others... Extract from the memories of Achille, woodman of Mitgardia Comments are welcome of course. :-) I am still struggling with pieces... The vortex needed to be improved but I didn't found how.
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`After a few months of training with the hunters, one day we where forced to go further from the village than ever before by a sudden landslide. After the landslide we found ourselves in a warm valley, unknown to me, where we could see spots of dry grass and flowers blooming amidst the snow. Karspart seemed nervous just like the other hunters, which I have never seen before. We stopped abruptly and all the hunters around me loaded an arrow into their bows while Karspart took out his sword. Karspart whispered to me to stay alert because the last time they came here the valley had belonged to an outpost from Nocturnus. We stayed in this position for what seemed like an hour, fearing the worst. We heard nothing that alarmed us and Karspart gave a sign that we should get closer to what seemed to be a building in the middle of the valley. As we stepped forward we looked for any movement or any sound that could be dangerous. And as we went closer we saw more and more that the structure was broken and swords and shields lay scattered around covered with snow. We still did not dare to lower our guard because we knew it could be a trap. We searched the ruins thoroughly, but we found no sign of life. The whole thing seemed to be abandoned. But why? Late in the evening we finally returned to our village unharmed. None of the hunters spoke about it and I did not want to say it out loud, but I think that the war is over. But if so, how long ago did it end? ` -Ronan I had a very busy year with not much time to build or post, so as a consequence this build is a year old. I hope I will be able to build more this year and keep improving (because I am not really happy with the end result of this build)! This is the first time I tried to edit the photo's. Previous parts of the story: 1. Flockwood's forgery (intro) 2. Finding a profession 3. Finding a profession 2 4. With the hunters
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Natural History - A Guide to Historican Flora and Fauna
Aurore posted a topic in Guilds of Historica
7 June 2021 - Added @The Stad's giant hare and @Grover's Nocturnus plants! Feel free to add your ideas or suggestions. And, of course, feel free to use those plants in your builds! ________________________ Natural History of Historica A collaborative herbal book Volume I - Herbs Marsh-mallow (Althaea Officinalis) Marsh-mallow is native to the humid western coasts of Avalonia. Mostly known for the candies that are made from its root, it also has interesting medicinal properties for the treatment of cough and throat ulcers. Parts : leaves, stem, flower Angelica (Angelica Archangelica) Angelica is a common sight in northern Historica. Since its appearance is quite similar to poisonous species, however, it is rarely foraged in the wild. Cultivated, it is widely used in the traditional Mitgardian cuisine - especially candied as a decoration for cakes. Its medicinal uses include, but are not limited to, the treatment of all kind of digestive troubles. It is also said to be an efficient magical protection against curses. Parts : leaves, stem, umbels NEW Deadly Lavender (Atropa Angustifolia) - by @Grover This rare flower is found naturally only in humid, swampy areas of Nocturnus, and when found is usually co-located with spreading starmist. The plant is noted by its black stem and three leaves. The roots, stem, and leaves are all highly toxic if ingested, causing hallucinations and delirium, and are sometimes dried and crushed to use in various poisons. In the spring, lavender flowers can sometimes be seen on this plant. Curiously, the flower is not toxic and is the key component in several medicines, poultices, and spells, so is harvested by herbalists and spellcasters. Hypericum (Hypericum Perforatum) Hypericum is generally considered as a noxious weed that challenges gardeners from all over Historica with its invasive growth and resilience to weeding. However, its is welcome in most herbal gardens since its oily extract is very useful to heal wounds and burns. Opinions seem to differ as to its magical properties. Many people believe Hypericum to protect from evil spirits, while gardeners seem to find the plant more annoying than any spirit it could protect from. Parts : leaves, stem, flower Mandrake (Mandragora Officinarum) An aura of mystery and magic surrounds the Mandrake. Native to Varlyrio, Kaliphlin and southern Avalonia, it's not easy to cultivate in Mitgardia. The result is worth the effort though, as this plant can be used to prepare one the most efficient sedatives known to the Guilds. It's also hallucinogenic and hypnotic, and is thus highly sought after by charlatans and fake shamans. Parts : leaves, stem, flower White nettle (Lamium Album) White nettle is a very common plant that can be found in grasslands and forests all over Avalonia and Mitgardia. All parts of the plant are edible (and have a surprising mushroom flavour), and the leaves can also help with melancholy. A so-called Aureum variant, which features bright lime leaves, can be found in the southwestern foothills of the Mitgardian Heavenly Mountains. A rumor says its unusual coloring indicates the presence of gold underground. The inhabitants of the little village of Horgaard know it's simply an horticultural experiment, escaped from the garden of a local herbalist… Avalonian Crown Lily (Lilium Avaloniflora) - by @Grover The Avalonian Crown Lily is native to the coastal areas of Avalonia, particularly in the Mystic Isles. Its occurrence is uncommon in most areas, but it is cultivated and traded around Historica, so is a common ornamental potted plant. It gets its name from the large white bowl shaped flowers ending in spikes like a crown and is noted for the pollen covered pistils, usually golden yellow, that protrude from the flowers. Parts : stem, calyx, corolla, pistil Volume II - Bushes NEW Spreading Starmist (Prosopis Azure) - by @Grover Commonly found across Nocturnus, Spreading Starmist is a low-growing bush with bright blue leaves and a black stem. It grows in almost any soil and is considered a nuisance in many area It also leaves black stems everywhere when it is done growing, causing headaches for cleanup. The plant is non-toxic, and does not contain enough nutrients to feed livestock, so is not cultivated intentionally. The wood is sometimes used for cookfires where it imparts a smoky flavor to meats. Volume III - Trees NEW Purple Locust Tree (aka Red Pea Tree) (Robinia Purpura) - by @Grover This medium sized deciduous hardwood grows across lower elevations of Nocturnus and slightly into the other guilds in the area around Cedrica. It has occasionally been planted in other areas where it can become invasive. It is considered a nuisance tree due to the red pea-pod fruits it bears in the spring, which drop everywhere, requiring cleanup for landscaping. The wood is hard, but is not particularly useful for building due to the small, twisting, and generally spindly nature of the tree trunk, which limits the size of boards produced from it. Volume IV - Animals Common Field Wombat (Wombatus Agerus) - by @kahir88 A medium-sized rodent eats plants and smaller insects. Avalonian farmers have long struggled to drive them away from their lands. Males are particularly aggressive when their territory needs to be protected against other males. Many Avalonians take advantage of this and make to fight each other for amusement. Common Seagull (Larus Historicus) - by @Grover The common seagull is native to all the coasts of Historica and is a common sight there. These gulls flock in large number, particularly around sources of food, and are somewhat of a nuisance in coastal urban areas, making a mess wherever they are found. These birds are noted for their white color with grey and black wing markings. Omurtag Zwergpinscher The Omurtag Zwergpinscher, colloquially known as the Dwarven Devil Dog among Human communities, is a breed of domestic dog developed by the Mitgardian Dwarves of the Heavenly Mountains. Renowned for their vigilance and tenaciousness, Omurtag Zwergpinschers make excellent guard dogs and ratters. NEW Avalonian Giant Hare - by @The Stad Brought to Gammeltårn by refugees from Avalonia during the Elemental Crisis, the Avalonian Giant Hares were kept for their flavorful meat and supple pelts. Several years ago, four of the five breeding pairs on the island had been set loose during a violent storm, and now herds of the docile, dog-sized rodents could be found menacing crops around the island. -
Story of Ava, chapter I The winter was ending, the snow was starting to melt and flower to bloom. I didn't know that it will be the day where something really strange would happen in my life. In this period, I make a short walk every day to reach the well next to the old ruins. This morning the air was nice and fresh, I was sure that the water would be available due to the melted ice. I was right by the way but in the end I did not bring any drop of water. Unlike every other occasion, the forest was quiet. When reaching the well, I saw someone lying next to our source of water. I ran to him because this night's temperature would be very hard to stand without a good fire. He was more fainted than dead and when I shook his shoulder to check whether he could answer me, his first words were to ask if he finally reached Mitgardia. Of course I answered : " Yes, just in the south of winter lakes". - At last, he said. He was really struggling to breathe and I asked who he is and why he is there. He just had the time to tell me : "My name's Ava..." before going into darkness again. I wanted to know a little more on him before bringing him home. Indeed, I didn't want to have any problem with a fleeing slave or a convicted offender. I looked through his stuff and just found his sword, few coins and a list of names, with dozens of names, and some of these are clearly Mitgardian names. I put everything in my backpack and dragged the man to my house to heat a little and save him. Extract from the memories of Achille, woodman of Mitgardia -------------------------- That's the start of the story of Ava. I hope you liked it. I don't know yet where this can go at all but if you want your name on this list, I would be happy to put it :-) --------------------------- --------------------------- Well, these are other the pictures of my first MOC that is not intended to be played with my kids ! Comments and critics are very welcomed. There are clearly lots to improve. First of all, I lack a lot of pieces as I am just starting lego (some pieces from my childhood, one set of lego friends of my daugther and some spare part bought here and there). Two creator box on the way should help. I am happy of the well even if not brilliant, it is all from my mind and did not get ideas on the net. I put some ruins at the back to give some background details and I found the balance nearly OK. Ruins could have been bigger if I had more grey pieces !!!). As major improvements, I know that the snow should be better (why do you think it happens in spring ;-) ), there is just small spot here and there and that is not good. Tree is at the correct size but it does not has the correct style to fit Mitgardia and semmes to be a little "poor". I also lack minifig parts so this one is not really up to the story, pose was always strange but I guess lying is not really the better way to expose them. The "stand" is horrible, I should find some other technics fitting "my inventory". I also need to give some better level design because is seems too flat and the spot on the right is not of the good color. In the end the quality of the picture itself must be improved, I have seen that there are some tips somewhere, and will go to have a look as soon as I have some time. If you know some ressources that might help a begginer, please do not hesitate to link it in bulk here, I'll have a look.
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After spending the better part of the season up north in Mitgardia, Rhalyf heads south looking forward to warmer Kaliphlinian temperatures. The beauty of the frozen lake and snow covered trees unnoticed as the cold wind whirls past. This MOC is my entry into the Frozen North category of the Summer Joust 2020 competition. I’m also submitting this MOC for review in the University of Petraeas Doctorate of Historica Program under the following category Landscape Design → Snow and Ice Website | Flickr | YouTube
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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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Previously: A New Post at Gammeltårn Party Supplies Perils Old and New They had spread themselves around the low stone table at the center of the chamber, contemplating the map that had been expertly tooled into its surface. Kjell, the restless second son of the Lord of Førstlys, had rarely spent time in this room as a boy, preferring to adventure around the city with his cousins rather than study charts in the keep. His role in the conflicts of the past few years had made him all-too-familiar with this room and its centerpiece, but this was the first time that the colored pieces on the table differentiated between the Mitgardian forces from the mainland and the local levies of the Burial Isle. "The garrison at Duergvenn is considerable," Kjell's father pointed at the piece nearest him. "Half of their number could be spared to march upon the Rigr's camp without leaving the city exposed. If they join with the men from Soldengang, their combined strength could be at the pass in eight days. Such a show of force should be enough to convince the mainlanders to stand down. The Rigr is haughty, abrasive, and now apparently treasonous, but he is no fool." "No," replied Kjell, "he is no fool indeed, and he has undoubtedly taken this time to strengthen his own position at the pass. From the north that way is unassailable. He could hold his camp against a force ten times his own. The western levies would be too little, and far too late. We have here at Førstlys by far our greatest strength of arms, but the Jarl's garrison is camped at our gate, and their loyalty remains unknown. I fear we cannot muster men enough for this task without recalling my brother from his adventures." "What of the pathway to the south of the pass?" asked the lord, not acknowledging the mention of his eldest son. "Is it so easily defended? Or, were he to be reinforced, could your cousin break this siege on his own?" "Makny is a cunning warrior and a hardy fighter. From his position he could handle the Rigr with merely another two-score men. But there is no way to get them to Gammeltårn, save for the path on which the Rigr is camped." "What of the harbor?" the lord asked, his eyes glancing to the golden-clad elves in the room. "Father," Kjell began skeptically, "the South Coast is naught but towering rocks and churning swells. Gammeltårn cannot even be seen from the sea, let alone reached by it." At this his father sighed and shook his head. "It seems I should have had more rigorous tutors for you in your youth. There are places on this island that do not yield their secrets to the unlearned, but the knowledge of which is your birthright, had you taken the time to know it." "My lord," spoke the dark-haired elf, "I see now that you have guessed at my history with this land, and I can guess why you have allowed my intrusion upon this council." The Lord of Førstlys remained silent, though a faint smile played at the corners of his mouth as the elf strode to the desk and picked up a block in the Førstlys livery. "Allow me to offer my knowledge of those same secrets, and my own strength of arms in this errand. To hear account of your situation, I suspect this task aligns with my larger duty on these shores. As such," he placed the block on the map to the south of the island, "we are yours to command." Kjell, utterly confused by the turn in conversation, took the offered hand. "My lord, we are grateful for whatever aid you can provide, though I fear I cannot yet guess at what that might be." "My young friend," smiled the elf, "All things shall be known in due time. But now make haste and prepare your retinue, for we sail at noon."
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The Frozen Beast I’ve heard tales of dragons guarding treasures. I’ve heard songs of dragons that held knowledge. But the story behind this one, is a little different. Past the ridge of cold mountains, after the forests and bays, there is a mountain that grows beyond sight. Afar the tallest of the trees and over the ceiling of clouds, it breaches the skies and hides its summit behind the vast unknown. The Elders say there is a castle in its peak, from where both Midgard, the land of men, and Asgard, the land of gods can be seen. The legends speak that only at the top of the tallest tower, the gods are prone to hear your prayer. Many have tried to claim the tower and make their way to the hall of the gods, but every time a man proclaims himself its ruler, a beast comes forth to end its reign. Frøstdjur, it was named. The Frozen Beast. White wings, as bright as the sun. Its breath as cold as a thousand winters. If one is worthy enough to hear the voice of the gods, only the beast will tell. No man should enforce himself to the great hall of the gods, for only they know our destiny. Frøstdjur protects this truth and their will, making sure the chosen ones are heard, and the unworthy vanish in the frozen wind. ________ Really hope you like it! For a long time I wanted to build a dragon, and Zane's Titanium Dragon (70748) from Ninjago series was my inspiration. It was a challenge to make it sturdy, but I'm happy the way my creature MOCs are coming to life. This is an entry for the Summer Joust 2020 "The Frozen North" Category. Make sure to check the micro-scale version of this story, Sannhetens Fjell Would love to hear what you all think. Skol! Louis of Valnötsträd
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“We apologize, great serpent of the seas, for we do not live in harmony with our Mother Nature”, said the Elders in a time long gone. With the drop of the first snowfall, came the season of shortage, when not a seed grew from the soil and men would hide within their homes. In need of stockage to go through Winter, men raged against each other in pursue of a better crop, a better land, a better life. But as years passed, Winters became longer and colder, and the Elders presumed it was a curse from the Gods. “We do not live in harmony with Mother Nature, who gives so much, but asks so little in return”, they proclaimed, convincing all men to establish a ceremony of appreciation, hoping the Gods would be pleased enough to end the Winter season. For seven days, a selection of the most dexterous, cunning, strong, and sharp men were set to battle each other in a series of games for the appreciation of the Gods, to thank them for sharing their knowledge, protecting the mortals, and providing for the crops. By the end of the seventh day, guided by the ancient Elders, all men were sent to the seashore, where the golden sun would set on the horizon as a white mantel of snow covered the rocks. There, the results of the games were shared with the public and the man with the lowest scoring was pushed into the waves, as an offering to the Gods. Facing the edge of the world, to the eternal sea, the Elders called upon Jörmungandr, the sea serpent, and offered him a cleansed soul. But snow continued to fall. The second man with the lowest score was sent forth, and as the Elders proclaimed the sayings that would wake the giant serpent and bring an end to the cold winds. But once again, snow descended from the sky. This time, Fiandr, the strongest of all men, most dexterous and cunning, winner of the Games Ceremony took the lead. He walked along the rock wall up to the highest cliff, where a lonely tree hung with white leaves. Fiandr faced the eternal sea and called the serpent. [We apologize, great serpent of the seas, for we do not live in harmony with our Mother Nature. We apologize, great serpent of the seas, for we do not seek your guidance, but our own foolish desires. We apologize, great serpent of the seas, for what we do cannot be undone. But here I stand, devoid of arrogance, proud or greed, offering my life, if you are merciful enough to take it. Take my flesh, for it does not suit me anymore. Take my blood, for it does not serve me anymore. Take my soul, for it does not scream, anymore. Take my life, and I will swim alongside you in your castle under the waves, protecting the world of the living and nurturing a life of balance and harmony until time stands still.] Fiandr screamed at the waves, his breath a smoke of frost. He took his knife, gleaming with the last light of the sun, and with a sharp movement, he cut open his wrist, letting a red current flow like the northern rivers. Before the first drop of blood reached the ground, a blue serpent emerged from the frigid waters of the eternal sea. As fast as its head left the water, it dove back in, taking with it the soul and flesh of the most skillful of the mortals. The Elders stood as the last snowflake detached from the grey ceiling that covered the world, and a warm breath of wind caressed the land. From this day on, when the cold winds blew and the Season of Shortage began, The Games Ceremony took place as a way for the mortals to show their appreciation for the Gods, for the winner to claim its rightful place alongside Kevin, the Jörmungandr, sacrificing his life, and for the Gods to show their mercy. “We apologize, for we do not live in harmony with our Mother Nature” _______ Louis of Nutwood. _______ Really hope you all like it. Skol!
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Hey everyone! This is the first in a series of builds I am going to be doing that are inspired by Challenge V but were a little late so I’m doing them anyways. I hope you like it! Recently, Eoin had been tasked by Jarl Olav, to find a fleet of Valyrian warships that were supposed to be sent to help during the wars with the Algus in Mitgardia. They were told by the Valyrians that the fleet was sent, but it had never landed, so now it was his job to find out what happened. Eoin had decided that it would be best to search the shoreline in case they had been blown off course and lost. If that didn't work he knew he would have to get on a boat and search the islands and ocean just off the coast, but that would take ages so he was trying to avoid it by scouring every beach along the coast. He had finally found it, after months of searching! Or at least one of the ships, but it looked like it had been looted by bandits and there was no sign of any of the other ships or soldiers... As he approached the bandits drew their weapons and threatened him: "Don't you come any closer!" "What do you know of the Valyrian fleets?" replied Eoin hopefully. The two looked at each other, and shrugged before readying their weapons and attacking! Eoin easily dispatched the two poorly trained bandits, then started to search for clues. After looking through the boxes, he found all the sort of valuables that would be expected in a warship including the bandits own weapons. It seemed after reading the bandit's journals that they had found the ship ruined on the beach, but were waiting untill the spring thaw to visit the more southern markets in Avalonia. However, still nothing about the soldiers. As he was turning to leave, Eoin stopped as something had caught his eye. There were tracks leading away into the mountains to the north. They were old, but there was a lot and the seemed to be going in the same direction. Eoin had heared legends of the mountains, known as the Frostpeak Mountains and they were mostly used to keep small children from exploreing them since no one had actully returned alive. This was not a good sign...
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