Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'Mitgardia'.



More search options

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


Forums

  • Frontpage, Forum Information and General LEGO Discussion
    • Guest Section - PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU REGISTER!
    • New Member Section - PLEASE READ BEFORE STARTING!
    • Frontpage News
    • Forum Information and Help
    • General LEGO Discussion
  • Themes
    • LEGO Licensed
    • LEGO Star Wars
    • LEGO Historic Themes
    • LEGO Action and Adventure Themes
    • LEGO Pirates
    • LEGO Sci-Fi
    • LEGO Town
    • LEGO Train Tech
    • LEGO Technic, Mindstorms, Model Team and Scale Modeling
    • LEGO Action Figures
    • Special LEGO Themes
  • Special Interests
    • The Military Section
    • Minifig Customisation Workshop
    • Digital LEGO: Tools, Techniques, and Projects
    • Brick Flicks & Comics
    • LEGO Mafia and Role-Play Games
    • LEGO Media and Gaming
  • Eurobricks Community
    • Hello! My name is...
    • LEGO Events and User Groups
    • Buy, Sell, Trade and Finds
    • Community
    • Culture & Multimedia

Find results in...

Find results that contain...


Date Created

  • Start

    End


Last Updated

  • Start

    End


Filter by number of...

Joined

  • Start

    End


Group


What is favorite LEGO theme? (we need this info to prevent spam)


Which LEGO set did you recently purchase or build?


AIM


MSN


Website URL


ICQ


Yahoo


Jabber


Skype


Location


Interests


Country


Special Tags 1


Special Tags 2


Special Tags 3


Special Tags 4


Special Tags 5


Special Tags 6


Country flag

Found 515 results

  1. This is my entry to the Eurobricks Flower Show! It's also a freebuild for Mitgardia here in the Guilds of Historica. __________________________ As an aspiring herbalist, Sigrid used to find most of her ingredients in the forest that surrounded the village. But while gaining experience, she felt the need to grow her own garden. She needed to keep the most useful plants within easy reach - and also wanted to make experiments with flora that would not grow natively in the Mitgardian mountains. In a few years, she had managed to gather many medicinal plants from Mitgardia, and to acclimate a few ones from Avalonia. And her garden kept growing : there were still so many plants to learn about! __________________________ As with my previous builds, the spoiler section contains details about the featured flora. __________________________ Since many commenters seemed to enjoy the well, there is now a tutorial here in my flickr! Credits : the birch tree uses Katie Walker's leaves weaving technique.
  2. adde51

    Kiruna watchtower

    A few years ago, on one of his travels, Tabib D'Odo found himself in the frozen land of Mitgardia. He had made the journey to try and establish some relationships with the northern people as he knew it might come in handy in the future. This was before Mophet had grown to the city it is today, but Tabib had already started to prepare for what he hoped would come. He knew the resources from the northern forrests and mines were instrumental to what he hoped Mophet would one day become. Accustomed to the warmer weather in the glorious sand pit that was Kaliphlin though, he did not enjoy the rugged climate...nor was he too fond of the short-in-stature, and grumpy dwarfs that inhabited the land...But sometimes one must do what is required. He found himself in the southern parts of Mitgardia, west of the Winterlakes, before deciding that he had travelled far enough. On his way to Mitgardia he had passed through some very pleasant villages and made some good aquaintances which he hoped would be beneficial in the future. Had had also heard wispers of a magnificent city in the sky but failed to really grasp where this place was located. As he walked through the forrest carrying a bag of Kaliphlian spices and herbs intended to ease any negotiations, he came across a watchtower near a place called Kiruna. He was greeted by a short and very sturdy man that called himself Sten Håård. He was the captain of the watchtower and along with two of his camrades it was his responsibility to watch over the region. A small, nearly frozen river ran alongside the watchtower and around it, a few chickens slowly walked about. Tabib and Sten got along surprisingly well and after a few pints of ale, Tabib was informed that trade with the northern tribes in the area would not be a problem. He left the frozen land with a smile on his face, and started the long journey back to his beloved sand pit, of which he was very proud to be a part of. So this is another one of my entries to the summer joust, this time in the frozen north category. Hope you guys like it!
  3. Entry to Book III, Challenge V: Category A - The Varlyrian Troops. Howling in the mountain. The chilling cold pierced through my leather jerkin as if there was nothing but my bare hands to cover me. Rigid with the frost, my cloak flapped nervously behind my back and pulled me south, alerting me – no, begging me to turn back and run. But after a handful of days travel, I reached too far into the mountains to return, and was too committed to find the truth, even if it meant never to reveal it. It had been months, since these strange events have been occurring outside our once calm and monotonous village. It did not happen once or twice, but numerous, countless times, every so often – and I remember the day it started. It was late in the night when I woke to the sound of Bartosz, our grey-skinned hound, barking frantically at the kitchen window – it was unusual for him, as for the past 7 winters, he’d slept curled and tucked in his own fur under the wooden structure of my bed until sunrise. That night, tough, he’d made a fuss. Wheat grains covered the timbered floor, the oak-chair my pa built was split around the cottage and he’d scratched the whole wooden door from waist height to bottom so vigorously that the fur around his paws was tainted burgundy with his raw blood. For the first time in years, he glanced at me, ears pointed to the ceiling, his white teeth as large as my fingers glowing in the moonlight and liquid dribbling from his mouth to the floor, the muscles in his shoulders swollen, spasming at me, and he growled. A sound born from the core of a threatened, fearful beast. It made me tremble, for I was not staring into my dog’s eyes, but into the soul of a monster dragged only by its primal senses. I realized it was not only Bartosz who was acting strange, but in the distance, I heard the howl of another dog, and then another. It was rather a chant, as possibly all the dogs on the village were now howling to the moon, as if calling their animal companions to a feast, or worse: issuing an alarm – a pack behavior to become alert of what’s to come. It happened again and again, and it drove us insane. Not only the howling, but the growing cold that rushed through the village every time harder and harder. You see, we live in a village – the last human village before reaching the mountains - that’s not that far from the sea, filled with arable land, soft ground, perfect for planting fruits and vegetables – it rains when the sun is hotter, and the climate is rather friendly apart from occasional winter winds that come from the mountains. But it got so cold, so unexpectedly... Nothing grows from under thick layers of frost, week after week. So, it drove us... insane. Particularly Frignevr, the blacksmith – that poor bastard. He was as short-tempered as he was big, and you would mistake him for a giant if he wouldn’t assure us his mother and father were as human as they could be. That one night, I felt the chill stretching through the holes between the planks that held my house together, Bartosz woke and ran, and the howling started. Amidst the whistling chants, a desperate roar, not from any dog or beast, but from what could only be a giant man, echoed on the stoned streets of our frost covered village. That horrific gutted scream smashed our doors, hammered our ears, and settled within our dreams, and just as it started, the unnerving, desperate cry ceased, giving way to a perpetual dead silence that endured ‘til morning. From between the ice-covered mountains, the first light of the day painted over the white mantel a red trail to a land uncharted, for this was marked only by the spilled droplets of blood of one of our own. That day, attending for the realms request, an expedition of ten men was sent to investigate. That night, not only the hounds and wolves howled a constant, tenuous melody, but a raw smell, a stale, moldy whiff, a stench of putrid decay took the streets, and uninvitedly entered our homes. The smell was eventually dissipated into the mountains, from where the expedition never returned, and the trail faded over the layers of unwanted and unexpected snow. Under pressure, the realm gathered another fifty men – swordsmen, archers, bannermen, carrying the white and gold markings on their shields – for a second expedition, along with hounds and eagles trained to detect hidden trails and follow camouflaged scents. Sixty men short, the army supposed to protect our sons and wives started to look faint and incomplete, specially when four days past their departure, the group that left to the sound of our prayers, vanished and buried our hopes under the falling snow. At night I did not sleep, but jumped aside when the dogs started barking, the nauseating odor invaded my house, and a deafening roar that combined a thousand lions sounded across the cobblestone paths, and made my chest tremble with a shiver running through my spine. I wanted to move but couldn’t – and I prayed for the souls of those poor men that would never return to our lives. I woke to the unnerving sound of a fist pounding at my front door, and as sudden as the cold took our village, and our blacksmith and our army, I knew my time had come. “Ready your shield and sword. Beg your family farewells. We part on the morrow”, signed the High-King, the Rego, over his waxed seal. Carpenters, fishermen, merchants, old and young, experienced or – most likely – not, with sword in hand. The few remaining that populated our village reunited where the first light of day shone: between the mountains where a trail of blood leaded the way to our uncertain destiny. We camped by night if we were lucky enough to find a rathole or a cave, or under the starts and the moon, and the rocks and the cold, and marched by day, following whatever was left of the expedition before us – pikes, helmets, messages left on walls and trees, pieces of cloth, footprints... Until there was nothing left to follow, but a dim and distant rotten and burnt smell that refused to cease. Every morning, our group turned smaller and weaker, as the members of our crew perished to the fierce conditions and reckless paths we were thrown into. By night, we heard the scuttling screams and roars coming from above us and echoing through the scars carved over centuries on the rocks. Looking ahead to the unknown, the vagueness to put reason to the sounds, the smell, the unhuman thirst to kill and its psychological defiance, drove one by one to an abyss of despair. That night, we took shelter on a cave, and shared its roof with a family of skeletons that made this gap on the mountain their home for centuries. Despite the blowing wind and the drenching humidity, we were able to light a fire and roast the last of our game. While sucking the lean meat from the fragile bones of an overcooked squirrel, I glanced towards the bottom of the cave where the carcasses of our hosts lay, and looking into their empty sockets, I saw my destiny. On the wall, black markings made of coal caught my attention. The drawings depicted a group of men being followed by a larger silhouette with pointy ears. It could be a wolf if it were not for its height. A demon, perhaps, or a vision from people long forgotten. On the first light, I left the cave and my companions behind, for during the night, they have all joined our hosts in an eternal sleep. As I approached the summit, that putrid smell turned sour, stronger than ever, as if a thousand bodies were left in the open to disintegrate over time. The snow turned thicker, and the paths became steeper as I pushed myself against the blowing wind, depriving me from seeing ahead. My hand lifted and covered my eyes, and from between my purple fingers, I saw a narrow path that pushed the snow aside and left its markings on the ground – a fresh trail, I realized. I followed the trail as it took me to the summit of the mountain. Two pillars emerged from the ground like snow-white banners, showing the world the peak was claimed – not by men – but by nature itself. Molded into the rock, was the inner part of a dome protecting its center from the what looked like a shire devoted to – if not built by – the gods themselves. In its center lay huddle made of what appeared to be a tangled amount of... what is that? I approached it and identified the maze being made from bones stripped from flesh, broken, smashed, and crushed into a bed that smelled of mold and rotten flesh. Big and small, long, and thin. I saw the fabric scratched along the way, and the splinters of weapons left throughout the mountain. These were the remains of the expeditions, the leftovers of our friends, the pieces of our royal guard. I lifted my cloak to retain the nauseating smell, while struggling not to vomit as I moved closer to the basket. Inside were the remains of animals and men, piled at each other through time. Cornering a rock, I followed the trail of bones, and then I heard. The visceral sound of a meal being eaten, meat being pulled from the bone, blood dripping, and a constant snort of desperation. Over a large pile of bones, a dark creature full of fur leaned and feasted. Its dangled black hair dripped with blood, and the stench was more than I could bare. It looks like... a wolf. And I remembered the drawings on the interior of the cave. Three, maybe four times my size, thick and muscular, its arms stretched wide could reach me in a heartbeat. I tried to sneak away, but the mere sound of my pounding heart must have alerted the beast. It turned and stared with fearsome yellow eyes, and as I pointed my spear to its chest, one swing of its long and hairy arm was enough to blind my sight and numb my senses. Laying on the snow, my sight turned darker and I heard the bark of my best friend Bartosz. …The councilor knocked at the Rego’s chamber door. “Your Highness, we are being called to position in the war of the continent. They ask for men and weapons. Our presence is demanded at once”. The Rego took the parchment and tossed it in the hearth. “How can I take part, when all my men were sent to the mountains and failed to return?” ________ Louis of Nutwood. Hope you like it. Would love to hear thoughts and comments.
  4. Last weekend, my husband challenged me to create something that would make me happy, and that I would actually finish by sunday evening. I decided to go on with Age of Mitgardia, and here is the result! __________________ Spring had come in Mitgardia. The snow had already melt in the southern foothills of the Heavenly Mountains, and the deep forests around Horgaard were slowly waking up after the harsh winter. Sigrid usually woke up early at this time of year, and enjoyed going on a ride around the village. She listened to the birds, observed the vegetation, and sometimes stopped just to pick something interesting. This morning, she had noticed the bright breen, tender tips that were blossoming on the fir trees. Perfect to make cough syrup....or some flavoured beer. __________________ As usual, more info on the featured flora and fauna below. My herbalist sigfig could soon create a "Natural History of Mitgardia" encyclopedia...
  5. http://[url/https://flic.kr/p/2j1WRDw][/url]20200514_101038 by pope.dt06 , on Flickr Beleg the Ranger, after returning from a long trip, finds the Mitgardian peasants around Thorshaven severely lacking in training. He brings several of the young ones who dream of fighting to his private sparring ground, centered on an ancient shrine to the War God. He aims to train them into a professional mercenary force that might eventually be hired in the rapidly developing Nocturnian Civil War... I am going to document the adventures of Beleg and his band of mercenaries, who you will get to know better, after I finish moving. This is a build that I made a while ago, and the story was a little hasty, but I hope you will enjoy it! Click on the photo, and you will see a pic of the shrine in the corner. I am moving, so you'll not see a lot of me on the Forums. I hope to get back into building in a month or two.
  6. soccerkid6

    Snowy Hike

    While I still have several old models that need posting, this is my first new GoH build since moving to Billund! Quite a simple scene, but I do like how the walls of the bridge flare slightly thanks to the 1x2 rounded plates. Eryl goes for a walk outside Harburg with one of the loyal family dogs following along. More builds to come
  7. MassEditor

    Stormholme Castle

    Located in the swampy lowlands which straddle the Mitgardian and Nocturnus border, Stormholme Castle is an ancient fortification which has long stood as a bulwark against the evil forces plaguing Historica. The high castle walls, defensive towers and secure water source have allowed Stormholme to withstand numerous sieges. These days, in more peaceful times, the castle serves primarily as the residence of Jarl Baldar Yuengling (photo not available). A small but dilapidated village has cropped up around the castle and swampy lowland. Despite these more quiet times, Stormholme stands guarded and ready to protect the Mitgardian heartland. What's up y'all! Yup, as usual, I'm late getting this on GoH. Mostly out of shame, however. You're probably quick to notice the lack of even a single minifig in this display. That was not completely intentional, as though I believe minifigs can bruise the aesthetics of a build, GoH is all about people and their stories. Unfortunately, my collection of GoH minifigs went home unknowingly with the wrong person following a public display of this castle. By the time we had realized what happened, I had already photographed this creation and precipitated its destruction. So, the human element is implied for the time being until I can finish up a few more builds to properly introduce Jarl Yuengling and his manor. A few fun facts: Took nearly a year to build. Rough guess, 40,000 pieces. Splits into four sections for convenient handling. Didn't originally plan to include the swamp but it saved me from a lot of landscaping and turned out kinda nice. I've been building in the castle genre for years, but this is my first true castle. Good to see you guys again, and thanks for looking!!! If you're interested, here is a video from Beyond the Brick when they interviewed me over the castle at Brick Fiesta 2019:
  8. As I really enjoyed all the custom Advent calendars that can be found all over Eurobricks, I decided to create one for Mitgardia. Starting from this Sunday, I'll update this topic with one build or minifig per day! Note : for family reasons, I also built a second Advent calendar - only minifigs and with a Fairy Tale theme. It can be found here. Week 1 Week 2 Week 3 Week 4
  9. Following the uprising in Mitgardia under Sir Uldain, Lord of Bleywood, the Northen Guild was is turmoil: To strengthen the popular support of his rebellion, Lord Bleywood sent out a group of men to seek out a shaman in the distant Clan Lands. Shaman Noiddi was considered mad by many, but during his episodes of trance he had vision of both past and future events. Rumors had spread of his vision of the old chieftain Krix the Cruel from many centuries ago that ruled almost all Mitgardian territory. Persuaded by Lord Bleywoods men, Noiddi seeked out the bog where the infamous chieftain had been buried the old-fashioned way in the dark, murky waters. With ancient rituals the shaman raised the bones of Krix the Cruel, and with them the last crown worn by something equal to a Mitgardian king. The antique artifacts were quickly transported the Lord Bleywood and presented to his son and heir, Sir Urdraigh. With the symbolic power of the chieftain of the olden times and the strength of the growing rebel forces, the Mitgardian people were ready to break free from the tyranny of the southern Queen… * * * It was finally time to face the battlefield for Lord Bleywood’s rebellion. So far they had succeeded in the political and tactical arena by gathering more and more lords and cities to their side, while at the same time the guild leaders in Valholl had been divided and undecisive in their actions. The support from the people had grown as well, and Lord Bleywood and his allies had increasingly became the true leaders of the lands of the Northern Guild. The threat to their success came now from the outside. Queen Ylspeth would not let a fourth of her kingdom slip away with out a fight. An army of loyal knights, mostly Avalonian nobles, and their levies marched north and set course towards Valholl to join up with the remaining royalist Mitgardians that were still holding out. The Bleywood forces made their stand at a bridge across the Whistling River in the southwest… The battle ended in a great victory for the rebellion. The Avalonian knights were lured out in the woods and picked of one and one, the footmen and archers tried to outflank the Mitgardians but got stuck in the mud, and the bridge was held by the elite troops of Theodore Bruin. The beaten royalists retreated to the south and the claim to the Northern lands by Lord Bleywood was now unquestioned. Sir Urdraigh took some noble prisoner to ransom and gave orders his soldiers: “Burn the bridges! We will have no use of them now that Mitgardia is once again a sovereign land. We want nothing from the southern lands anymore. The border is closed! Queen Ylspeth can try to salvage what little pride she has left, but one thing is certain: she is no longer Queen of Historica, because Historica as a unified kingdom is no more. The other guilds will soon follow us in their quest for independence.” More pictures can be found at my Bricksafe account: https://bricksafe.com/pages/Etzel/guilds-of-historica-
  10. Chapter 10. The large oaken gates of the keep opened to a cleansing wind that pierced through my leather jerkin and made my guts stop twisting. My cloak pulled and flapped behind my back, giving farewells to the nauseating stench inside those thick stoned walls. - The Lions will be here soon enough. We must leave this place. – said one of the prisoners, running towards the stables. His messy hair flowing over his grey eyes. The sky was painted in pink as the sun rested among the trees. Delicate white specks fell from the sky, adding layers on top of the snow covering the ground. The stable’s wooden roof was torn and rotten, and barely protected the horses from the falling snow. Hob ran his hand across the long nose of a chestnut-colored mare, to calm her down. Frozen icicles fell from her humid mane. I approached the brown stallion and patted him on the neck. He neighed and a cloud of frozen air came out of his nose. There, there. I fastened the bag of coins to the saddle and jumped up on his back. Hob’s companions entered the tower that neared the stalls – looking for more lion guards, or just food, I could not say – but both left with chunks of frozen apple and carrots, horse provisions, inside their mouths and sacks. I figured they hadn’t eaten for the past days. - Where we headed? – I asked and they exchanged wary looks. - The boy can be trusted, Balduin. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be out of that stinking cell – said Hob. I didn’t have much choice, but I guess it was true. Balduin fastened the saddle on a velvet-black Appaloosa and pulled himself up. - Follow me. We won’t stop until we get there. It is best that we ride through the night. – He pulled his hood up, covering his face, tucking his ponytail and shielding himself from the cold. The horses moved one after the other, into the forest. Behind us, a red trail of blood tainted the snow and the leaves and the air, though apparently the only one who could see it was I. ... and the gods. I turned my head and glanced at the keep. Its walls sinking behind the trees; its lanterns fading into a distant glow, smaller and smaller with the gallop. The sun set on our backs, so we rode in the shadows, listening to the blowing wind between the branches of the trees, singing in our cold ears. The keep was left behind, but I could hear the desperate screams loud and clear. ________ The stables lean on the walls of Svalg Keep, situated on the lower part of the Bay of Storms, in the cold lands of Mitgardia. This is a continuation from the previous chapter 9.2 Payback. Hope you all like the story and the build. This is the first time I actually used GIMP to treat the photos as a recurring recommendation. Please, let me know what you think. Your feedback is always much appreciated. Entry for Age of Mitgardia - Stables Phase II. Thank you! Sir Louis of Nutwood.
  11. Lady Eleanor has chosen a site to build a new fortified village to act as the center of her activity in Bluevale. It lies on a fairly flat island, in the North-East of the vale. The island is bordered on the south by the South Lake, on the west by the Ridge River and on the north and east by a flood channel. A small river runs through the channel which overflows extensively during the Spring thaws. A series of small Watchtowers have been build on the bluff between the flood channel and the Island to overview the approaches to the new building site. Sir Loth Strongarm and his son Stenon the High Ranger are inspecting one of the completed towers and discussing general concerns of the Vale, the new constructions as well as possible threats to the Lady's attempt to establish her rule. Meanwhile Stenon's oldest son Robb is leading the dwarf brothers Surwid and Norwid on an expedition to an abandoned mine to assess its potential for iron extraction and creating an iron, steel and related products manufacture hub.
  12. On the northern slopes of Pikesteel Mountain, nestled among the trees that blanket its basalt crags and sandy gullies, a complex of ancient structures lay. Seemingly untouched by time, and well hidden from prying eyes, its pure white walls had sheltered generations of Great Elk clansmen when their forest homes were menaced by immeasurable threats, then sat unoccupied in times of peace. But in the wake of the devastation wrought in their lands by the Algus, the elves sought to keep a permanent presence in this haven. The Pikesteel dwarves, for their part, had never been able to find the stronghold on the borders of their domain. Thus, they regarded it as a rumor or legend, and were surprised when the elves requested it, and even more surprised when the elves showed it to them. Some among the dwarves argued that they should claim the fortress for their own, given its situation upon their own domain, yet when scouts were sent to find it without elven guides, the hapless dwarves searched the forest fruitlessly for several weeks before stumbling back through the gates of the mountain, perplexed and looking rather worse for wear. Still, the Pikesteel dwarves were eager to have an ally to shelter their northern flank, and so they ceded the land and even committed to aid the largely nomadic elves with settling into their new, well-fortified home. The expert dwarven craftsmen, guided by elven design sensibilities, seamlessly integrated the elves' improvements with the existing structures. In little time the numbers of the tribe swelled, their kinfolk flocking eagerly to the flourishing citadel, which they called Herfin Telosuren in their tongue, or the Haven of the Great Elk. Travelers pays their respects at an ancient shrine to a god whose name has long since been forgotten to these lands. Admiring the tribe's motif, newly affixed to the Great Tower. The elven chieftain thanks the leader of the dwarven craftsmen for his efforts. The fountain tower looks out over the forested slopes that descend to the great lakes and flat lands to the north.
  13. soccerkid6

    Eggs for Sale

    The cobblestone design was borrowed from Jonas Kramm. Sent off on another errand in Harburg, Eryl and Elise get some fresh eggs from a vendor in the town square. See more pictures on Brickbuilt. Been far too long since I posted a build here, but have been doing some new stuff for Mitgardia
  14. (Luc)ky Luke

    With the hunters

    ‘One task that did actually intrigue me was one of the last ones I had to do. For a couple of days I was working with one of my father’s closest friend, Karspart. He is in charge of the hunt and supplies the village with a constant fresh supply of meat, wild berries and other things that are needed in the village. Hunting with Karspart brought me further away from the village then I had ever been before. Even further than I had ever imagined to go. It first seemed like an easy and relaxing task, but this is far from the truth. Karspart’s hunting task is full of danger so I had to be careful with everything I did, as packs of trolls, wolves, bears and sometimes enchanted beasts could be encountered whilst hunting. Not to mention the avalanches and cold that where even deadlier. I did learn how to defend myself and avalanches and the cold were part of my life just like any other child in the village so I wasn’t that worried. Still I do not see myself fighting against some monster, I would rather run for it. Luckily in those two weeks I only encountered some wolves that didn’t even come close to us.’ -Ronan Want to read the previous part of the story: here
  15. I deeply enjoyed creating last year's advent calendars and sharing them here with all of you, so I decided to set myself a similar challenge : create a Mitgardian Custom CMF series. But, in contrast to the advent calendars, I chose to follow strict rules - which are listed in the spoiler section below. Now let's get to the heart of this topic (warning : long post ahead). Heroes of Mitgardia Note : the spoiler sections contains a back view of each minifig. 1. Völva Mitgardian seeresses are renowned all over the Guilds for their clear-sightedness, their wisdom and their knowledge of powerful rune-based spells. Inspired by the Norse Völur (sing. Völva). 2. Elite Marksman It is often said that dwarves lack the necessary finesse and precision to be good archers. Funnily enough, those who have encountered dwarven crossbowmen rarely say so. 3. Pathfinder Even in the thickest fog or most violent blizzard, Clan Lands pathfinders always know where they are and where they go. It is said that this uncanny sense of direction is due to sunstone, a magical mineral they always bear as a talisman. Inspired by the Viking sunstone theory. 4. Weird Hermit In a crooked hut deep in the deepest forest of the Heavenly Mountains, lives a jolly old man. He spends his days chirping with the birds and philosophizing with the hedgehogs, but he'll always be there to help travellers in need. 5. Geologist Yes, dwarves do have thousands of words for stone. Thanks to the rigorous classification of minerals continually enriched by their tireless geologists. 6. Bear Tribe Shieldmaiden Many sagas tell the exploits of the She-Bears, a legendary tribe of all-female warriors who still inspire young ladies today. 7. Dwarven Blackguard Didn't we talk about dwarven finesse previously? Well, this definitey does not apply to the Blackguards. 8. Svellbjorn Captain Svellbjorn, the mythical bear-people from the Frozen Beyond, are among the toughest people of all Mitgardia. 9. Icemage Dwarves are not natural-born wizards. Nonetheless, some of them are able to stand up to the best Avalonian elven mages. 10. Outlaw Heroic outlaws, who rob from the rich and give to the poor, are popular characters of Avalonian and Mitgardian folk tales. 11. Ulfhedinn Shieldmaiden Ulfhednar are shamanic warriors, able to shape-shift into a frightening wolf-like creature during combat. Inspired by the Viking Úlfhéðnar (sing. Úlfheðinn). 12. Ulfhedinn Warrior Unfortunately for their opponents, Ulfhednar figth in packs. 13. Frost Sprite It's not just monsters who live in the Frozen Beyond. 14. Fisher King According to the old sayings, the secret of eternity is held by an old, wounded king who peacefully lives in a castle somewhere along the river. Many adventurers have sought him, but only a pure heart can find him. Yes, he's inspired by this Fisher King. 15. Kobold Miner Kobolds are discreet underground creatures who excel in mining. Many dwarven kings and mine masters owe their wealth to the intelligence and hard work of an unselfish Kobold counselor. 16. Valyrie in Training All heroes were once just small kids.
  16. Deep in a Dwarven city.... All across Historica there was suspicion and rumor while confidence in Queen Ylspeth reached new lows. In Mitgardia, the dwarves were arming themselves as their underground war industry restarted anew years after a failed invasion of Avalonia. The dwarven dissatisfaction with the humans and other races above ground had reached a critical point and the small, individual kingdoms were discussing banding together for raids against the sun-washed world above. But, at some point prior to anything regrettable transpiring, a Mitgardian lumber merchant stumbled upon a group of dwarves training in axe throwing. After turning to a dwarf leaning against a stone-carved door jam and instructing, "here, hold my beer!", the merchant--who was an experienced lumberjack and thus well acquainted with axes--started up an informal competition. Unknown to the merchant, the dwarf holding his beer was the lord of the dwarves in the area and after watching his warriors and the lumber merchant battle all night to a tie (while drinking a refreshingly strong Mitgardian beer), he came to see greater opportunity for his people through peace than through war. Before the merchant left that dwarven conclave, deals had been struck for the exchange of lumber, fish, and bread from the surface for axe heads from below and rules had been drafted for the first open axe throwing tournament to be held in the dwarven cities. Thus began the warming of relations between humans and dwarves during the reign of Queen Ylspeth. As other dwarven cities and human settlements heard of the tournaments and the profits in terms of gold, goodwill, merriment, and further trade agreements, both sides realized there was more to be gained with unity than with discord. After endorsement from both the Jarl in Vaholl and the various dwarven lords, many communities created their own axe throwing leagues along with increased human-dwarf trade agreements. My entry for Category A, long live the Queen!
  17. "So come take a drink and drown your sorrows And all of our fears will be gone till tomorrow, W'all take a pint thus for all it's a win, Here in the Royal Elk's Inn" The Royal Elk
  18. Here is my entry for Book III Challenge IV, Category B "The Crown in Daily Life". It was a bright, sunny autumn day in Horgaard, but Sigrid was worried. The rulers of the nearby villages had gathered to discuss the rumors that kept being relayed and amplified. Bards from the south sang the greatness of Queen Ylspeth, her wisdom, and how pleasant and prosperous life was in Avalonia under her rule. Scalds from the north sang her weakness, her ignorance, and how hard and barren life was in Mitgardia under her rule. Some of Horgaard's neighbours wanted Queen Ylspeth down, while others were ready to take up arms to defend her. The debates had been heated, to say the least. And Sigrid had no idea of what was the right thing to do. The information that reached the tiny, secluded village of Horgaard was so inconsistent and distorted that she felt unable to make an enlightened decision. After an endless, sleepless night, she needed to empty her mind. She had neglected her precious garden lately, and there were many things to do to prepare it for the winter. As with my previous MOCs, the hidden text gives more information about the featured flora.
  19. Eoin Wallace

    Fort Cander

    previously Eoin had been living at Fort Cander for three weeks now, and had an escaped thief, an orcish sorcerer, a blind archer and some wolf thing called a Gnoll who had shown up on the second week he was there. It was a huge step down from having dozens of soldiers and a massive castle under his command. He was also very far away from any civilization but he was excited because he had just gotten last week's issue of the Weekly Mitgardian! Eoin had enjoyed all of his saturday morning reading the paper when, he heard a commotion coming from the woods! And he recognised Erdan running across the rickety bridge from the woods being chased by mitgrdian soldiers! "Help!" screamed Erdan, as he hopped gracefully off the falling bridge. Against what most would probably say was his better judgement, Eoin attacked the soldiers who were chasing his old friend. So after a chaotic battle, Eoin questioned Erdan about the whole event. Erdan told Eoin of how Queen Ylspeth had recently been to Nocturnus to practice necromancy. "I saw it all with my own eyes!" he said. "She was trying to summon her dead brother back from the grave, but the power corrupted her and I am on a mission to stop her from destroying Historica from within!" And Eoin agreed to help him. Here is som additional pics: Hope you like it,C&C welcome!
  20. Prelude: The Winter of Despair All across Mitgardia, rumors and rumbles were rising and bubbling. In the far north, the weather was beginning to turn cold, but hearts everywhere across the guild were becoming cold towards Queen Ylspeth in Cedrica. Many said she was deliberately weakening the northern guild in favor of their southwestern neighbor, lining the coffers of the treehuggers, building up their walls, nourishing their fields, while at the same time turning an icy eye towards the struggling farmers of the mountain valleys. Lords were plotting rebellion against the leadership in Valholl, vassals against yarls, friend against neighbor. Many an old alliance was being cast aside as the new political climate became clear: it was every Mitgardian for himself. The Dwarves in particular were feeling slighted and overlooked. Humans in charge of everything was beginning to get old, since humans only ever thought of themselves. "How can she claim to be the queen of all Historica, when she does not even begin to understand the many races in the realm?" they were saying. "We need to cast of the shackles that the humans have placed on us and be independent once again. Perhaps the Drow - may they be eternally cursed - have had it right all these years, fighting against the Kingdom of Historica and acknowledging no overlords." And so, in deeply delved tunnels and hewn halls armies were forming. Bands of Dwarves, even independent of any king, gathered to perfect axe throwing and other ancient arts used against taller races in war; for they would soon be needed again. Rumbles in the deep were felt throughout the land as the engines of war began to churn once more. But in the mountain passes, once the lifeblood of the trade routes into the southern markets, brigands were also gathering. The inability of anyone to drive them out or keep the merchants safe only furthered the discontent against the crown. "How can she claim to be the queen of all Historica, when she does not even bother to protect the Queen's Roads or protect us from highwaymen?" the people were saying. "It is because she is young and weak, and a woman. We need a strong man, a true warrior, on the throne to drive away the bandits and restore trade, and through trade bring prosperity back to us common folk. Mitgardia needs to be great again." There were even talks of an independent Kingdom of Mitgardia, rather than just a guild, with a king who understood the needs of the northern people. And so, from the deeps to the heights, all of Mitgardia was astir. Something was about to change. Something had to happen. Things could not remain as they were in this winter of despair. More images of the dwarven scene available here. More images of the bandit hideout here.
  21. Louis of Nutwood

    Svalg Keep: Mitgardia (Free-Build)

    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
  22. This is an entry for Age of Mitardia - House Phase I. Orri Ingvarson, Horgaard's herdsman, was a happy young lad. Every summer since his coming-of-age, he would lead the small herd to the high mountain pastures. Up there, everything was quiet, everything was peaceful. He enjoyed being alone above the tree line, watching the clouds drift by of listening to the eagles' shriek. This year was a special one : the old, decaying shed where he used to spend his nights and seek refuge during thunderstorms had been demolished. With the help of all the villagers, a new one had been built a short distance further. And Orri felt there was something...odd with his new home. The floor seemed to clean itself. The dishes seemed to wash themselves. Flower bouquets seemed to appear out of thin air on the table. And his goat milk supply was depleting. Like with my previous build, you'll find below a few details on the featured flora.
  23. Here is a freebuild for Mitgardia! A small scene of everyday life in Horgaard. Falconry was a serious matter in Horgaard. Generations of birds of prey had been raised and trained there : generations of powerful hunting companions, tireless war messengers, and, on at least one occasion, life-saving air fire support. Little Siggi, nine years old, already knew everything about this critical aspect of his education as a young noble. The different kinds of birds, how to handle them, and how to train them. The history of the art of falconry, the evolution of the techniques, and their regional particularities. He even knew the names and stories of all the famous birds raised by his family much better than he knew the names of their owners. However, his falconry knowledge remained desperately theoretical. He had already been allowed to fly a trained kestrel, but the adults considered him too young for a greater bird. Sooner or later, he would train his own mighty eagle. In the meantime, he had much fun handling the lure. As usual, more information on the featured flora/fauna is given in hidden text.
  24. Louis of Nutwood

    [MOC] The Keeper

    Chapter 09. The Keeper. As fast as I could, I ran down the narrow steps of the spiraling stairs. Jumping every two sets, I had to lean my body against the wall, cautious not to trick or fall. The small corridor leading to the dungeons was only lit by erratic torches nailed to the walls and the irregular stonework on the steps would not allow me to go any faster. I felt my stomach pressing against my throat and had to reduce my pace and recover my breath just before reaching the lowest level of the keep. The dungeons. To the flickering light of the torches, the golden lion seal in a white and red vest was highlighted once again before my eyes. Not again, I though. But this time, it wasn’t a bearded battler or a savage soldier that stood in front of me. To my surprise, a thin and fragile young man, who was no older than myself, stood tall in between the cell doors. He held a rusty old sword with undeniable difficulty. His vestments were torn, a number or two larger than the ideal, and held loose against his malnourished body. His prominent cheekbones and lean forearms showed he had little to eat for days. His red and weary eyes widened over his darkened eye bags and his breath fastened, forcing the air in and out. I reached for the grip of my sword. He looked at me, motionless as a statue, as I unsheathed my blade. His mouth trembled and his eyes filled from within, turning smaller and smaller with every breath. His sight moved away from me and stopped starring through the thick air that separated us, and into the cold ground, as if his sight could no longer deduct what was right in front of him, lost in his own thoughts. It seemed as if his soul had flown away from his body. Somehow, he seemed even smaller and weaker. He’s just a frightened boy. The dead silence of the room was broken when his sword fell from his hand and hit the stoned floor, emitting a loud clanging sound. He kneeled, put his hand over his face and sobbed, while struggling to contain his tears from falling. From a pitch-black shadow, two silhouettes, each in its own cell, approached the bars and into the light. Two cavernous men arose from the dark. Their arms stretched away from the black and materialized from between the iron bars, as if coming out of a painting, and I felt their invisible eyes still covered in the shadows, staring at me. I shook and took a step back. The cell doors opened in a shrieking sound. The two men walked away from their cells, looked at each other for a moment and headed to the stairs leading to the armory. As they walked me by, the prisoner with black hair and a ponytail stopped and stared at the young soldier kneeling in the dark. He then looked at me and touched my shoulder, noticing I still had my sword in hand. - You will take care of him, right? It hit me. I could not give him a straight answer. Before I could say anything, he left behind his companion through the spiraling stairs. Kill him? I turned to the boy and tightened my fingers around the grip of my sword, trying to contain my arms from trembling. I felt drops of sweat dripping down my forehead. His head sank between his legs. Below him was a small pool of water, which I could not and would not describe if it was tears or his own piss. I felt weak, as if something was pulling me to the ground. The sound of metal scratching against stone echoed through the room as I walked to him, dragging my blade beside me, feeling its burdensome weight, perhaps for the first time. - Get up – I said in a feeble voice. He did not. If anything, he clinched even more. I then, grabbed the bunch of keys and open the cell door behind him. - Get in. I will not ask again. He turned himself facing down and crawled inside the cell. He took a deep and long breath, as if he realized it would be his last, and stood up, facing the dark stone wall in the back of the room. His knees stiffened and his back straightened, when he held the air inside his lungs. The sound of metal echoed again through the emptied dungeons as the door to the cell closed. I turned the keys, locking the boy inside that cold and wet cell. Moving away from the bars, the weeping, the darkness of that damp dungeon, I couldn’t help but wonder if by leaving, was I keeping that boy's life or making his death more long-lasting and painful. I tossed the keys aside. ___________________ Louis of Nutwood Chapter 09. The Keeper
  25. A continuation of the story from "Pass it on", my Challenge III build, and of the misadventures of Shivering Ettu. The rebellion of Lord Bleywood and Lord Ulfgang is slowly beginning to take shape. With the help of the mercenaries of Theodore Bruin, these lords are hoping to gather more support from displeased nobles and break away from the leadership of the Steward in Valholl. Defensive preparations are being made as the risk of open conflict draws nearer and in Ulfgang land the stockades are being erected in all strategic places. According to the lord's deal Lord Bleywood has sent a group of prisoners to his ally to be used as workforce in the constructions. It's mostly just an excuse to show of my Ulfgang faction. Wolfpack shields and insignia, with dark red and dark green colors, and the nice tartan printed legs from Tartan Batman. I have a few ideas on how to bring this story forward, but I'm not sure how much time to build I'll have from now on. Maybe it will have to be a long term project. I did work a bit with the Mitgardia map to give you a bit of a hint of where this takes place. The map shows the southwest corner of Mitgardia. Blue+Gold: Bleywood, Dark Green+Dark Red: Ulfgang, Green+Yellow: Valholl, Mitgardia Capital