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Of Dragons and Druids Chapter 3: The Kitchen of Druidham Gahlen knew that he should be going back to the cellars to help Stenkarlek delve them, but he did not want to go back just yet. The dwarf did not particularly like him, considering the boy more of a nuisance than a help, even with a dragon to help moving the rock. And that was all they did, Gahlen and Koeden. Bring one load of loose rock up to the surface after another, until Stenkarlek decided that they had done enough for the day. Gahlen grumbled at his father silently, since it was he who had volunteered the boy's services to the dwarves. But that had been months ago, and the dwarves were still digging. They were nice storerooms and cellars, expertly hewn, painstakingly precise in their corners and utterly smooth in their floors. But the job was tedious, and the seven-year-old wanted to go run around outside and bother some of the other children of the island. And so Gahlen was stopping by the kitchens, hoping to draw Jalme away from his chores. Jalme was the son of the steward, Dervin, who ran the day-to-day affairs of Druidham, assisting Gahlen's father Henjin. The two boys were almost the same age, though Jalme was eight and a bit taller. As he approached the kitchen doors, Gahlen's mouth began to water; succulent smells were wafting on the air currents of the hallway to his nose, reminding him that it was nearly time to eat. Koeden nudged him the back, indicating that he too would like a snack. Hadn't he fed the dragon today already? Young dragons were always hungry, though, and were always growing, too. Perhaps he could sneak a snack from Gregi, the butcher, for Koeden and something from Grishna, the orcwife, for himself. Gregi was busy chopping the heads off of chickens when he opened the door. A faint smile flickered in the corner of the bald man's mouth when his eyes saw the boy and beast framed in the dim doorway. At least Gahlen thought it was a smile; the butcher's beard was so thick that it was hard to tell. Another head popped into the bucket at Gregi's feet, and he slowly slid the whole bucket of heads towards the door. Marni, scaling fish at the same table, clucked in disapproval, but said nothing. The old matron had a soft spot for the roguish youth and his dragon, and the boy exploited it whenever he could. If only he could sneak in and see Sorna; she always had a pie or cookie ready for him, but he would have to avoid the eyes of Jalme's aunt, Julippa, who ran the kitchen and had no use for rascals in her way. Unfortunately, Sorna was talking to Kupika about berry pies as the elf brought over a sack of gooseberries for a pie. Several pies were already cooling on the table; probably currant pies, judging by Sorna's pile of currant sacks by the table. Unfortunately, Julippa was sharing a table with Grishna as the two prepared a stew and some salads. That meant no snack from the orcwife today. Grishna was the best, always doting over the young dragonrider whenever she saw him, giving him big hugs and lots of treats. Her husband Urglan, was a dragonrider, too, the only orc to become one so far. Jalme was looking decidedly unhappy as he turned a spit with a large islebird over the fire. He was definitely hot, and always grouchy. But there was no way that he would be able to get away from the work without getting into serious trouble with everyone in the kitchen. Bummer! Gahlen lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, before deciding to go outside and try to find one of his sisters to bother. Or maybe his mother, if Galaria might be around somewhere and not busy. But he was done with carrying rocks today. He grabbed the bucket of chicken heads and a bit of cured sausage that Gregi had tossed to him, too, and went back the way he came, out into the lower courtyard of Druidham, into the bright sunshine in the midst of the Mystic Isles. (with updated lighting) ____________________________________ ........................................................................ More pics: C&C welcome. I'm not as happy with the lighting in this one as I would have hoped. There are too many different pieces to it: a lamp under the roasting pit, a flashlight behind the bread oven, light bricks and another flashlight lighting glow crystals in the wall, and another lamp shining through a bank of windows (out of shot) to imitate daylight coming in. It was ambitious, and perhaps I'll give it another go before tearing it apart; the results here are "good enough" but not great.

Hi all, I had some time to make pictures of my latest MOC, It's for the HSS program, to get my town on the map hehe :) Oxenfurt watchtower and blacksmith main by jesse van den Oetelaar, on Flickr Oxenfurt watchtower by jesse van den Oetelaar, on Flickr Oxenfurt blacksmith close-up by jesse van den Oetelaar, on Flickr No story today. Just a blacksmith and a watchtower, located in Oxenfurt, Avalonia.

Soon after Artorious Rex had ascended the throne of Avalonia, something strange happened. Late one night, as he sat in his private study writing the charter and laws of the fledgling guild by candlelight, his study door swung open and a stooped over, wizened old elf with a cane entered. Artorious looked up, not with fear but curiosity. “Who are you and how did you come to be here, old one?” asked Artorious, wondering how this ancient elf had circumvented his guards. The old elf stood before Artorious’ desk. “Who I am is unimportant, but I am a seer, and what I have foreseen concerns you. This peace for which you have fought so hard shall not last. Dark forces are gathering in the realms of men and the realms below that will usurp all of this land and only the heir to the throne can save it.” Artorious took in this information. “I appreciate you bringing this to me, old one, but I have no intention of dying or letting my family be harmed in any way, regardless of the enemy.” The old elf shook his head. “You sit on the throne, but neither you nor your kin are the heirs I speak of. The next to sit on the throne shall be the heir of the ancient druids.” Artorious laughed. “Everyone knows that fairy tale: the fabled heir of the druids will possess the bluestone of the elements and the seal of the druids. The problem is that no one knows what this seal looks like or what the ‘bluestone’ is, and the druids have been gone for thousands of years.” The old elf moved to the desk and set down an ancient scroll, carefully unrolling it before Artorious. He moved the candle nearer for better light and Artorious studied it. “I have found an ancient scroll depicting the seal,” the old elf began, pointing to a circular seal drawn in charcoal on the parchment. “The form of the bluestone is still unknown, but it resides in the Enchanted Forest and is a source of magical power.” Artorious looked at the parchment, then the old elf, and shook his head. “Even if this document is authentic, what would you have me do? Search every inch of the Enchanted Forest for this ‘bluestone’? And what is this seal? Is it a stone carving? On some golden headdress? How could anyone ever find it?” The old elf held up a hand and stood up straighter. “I am only the messenger,” he replied, and turned for the door. He stopped and faced Artorious as he exited. “Good night,” he said simply, and walked out the door. Artorious got up and walked to the door, sticking his head out, thinking to talk to the stranger, but the elf was gone. Artorious walked out into the long hallway, looking up and down, but he was nowhere to be seen. Closing the door and returning to his study, he looked again at the parchment before rolling it up and storing it. Could any of this be true? It didn’t matter: there was nothing he could do about any of it, and right now he had a new country to hold together. He made a mental note to tell his advisors of the parchment and this encounter the following day, then returned to his writing. The old tower was buried in the tall forest trees, but could still be seen some distance off. Penelope stopped some 200 yards from the tower and hunkered down in some brush, waiting until nightfall to disguise her approach. As she waited, she reflected on her life that had brought her to this point. As an infant, Penelope had been found by an elven ranger in the Enchanted Forest, wrapped in a simple linen and stashed on a bed of moss in the crook of an old oak tree. Her crying had caught his attention, and, after making sure that this strange find was not a trap, picked Penelope up and comforted her, finding a bronze medallion wrapped in her linens. It was strange to find a human this far into the Enchanted Forest, let alone an abandoned babe. He searched for tracks from whomever dropped her off, but found none. Without any other options, he brought her home with him, where his wife and children helped feed and nurture her. For a week, the elves of the forest searched high and low for Penelope’s parents, but there were no humans in the forest that could have left her, so the ranger adopted her, and she grew up with elven siblings. Penelope and her brothers and sisters would play in the forest, and though she was never as quiet as her elven siblings, she learned to be quite stealthy for a human. Her adoptive father taught her about the animals of the forest and how to use a longbow, and she came to understand the environment around her, careful to respect nature’s gifts. Although the ranger and his wife were very kind to Penelope, many of the other elves of the community treated her differently, and she felt like an outsider growing up, playing mostly with her siblings and few of the other children. In large part it was this isolation that led her to study magic. She had grown into a young woman, with strange golden hair and fine features, when she began her studies with the elven mages. Her elven teachers were practiced in the magical arts and she learned quickly, but they were wary to teach her all the magic of the elves, so she eventually had to leave her home and travel to Albion. In Albion, she was appalled at the way food was wasted, animals treated, and the awful practices of the lumberjacks. She had thought she would fit in better here, but her unusual golden hair and her mannerisms from the elven society she grew up in left her again alone. She did, however, make a few friends. In particular, she fancied one of the soldiers who guarded the house of her wizard mentor, Halad. It took her a few tries to pluck up the courage, but she finally talked to him and they went out for a few drinks. Their relationship grew, and as it did, they spent more time together, sharing stories about the elves and about his time in the war against Raavage. Penelope learned how to handle a sword, and she taught him a few things about magic. As is often the case with young love, their relationship ended with heartache, when Penelope caught Halad in bed with another young woman. Mercifully, she had reached the end of her apprenticeship, so she bid her mentor farewell and set off for home, heartbroken and angry. Penelope had been gone several years, but the elves tend to take life slowly, so she had not expected very much to have changed. She had felt she didn’t belong with her adopted elven community, but after living in Albion, she realized she loved the forests and needed to return to see her family. All, however, was not the same when she returned. She walked the paths back home that should have been familiar, but were not. Where there were once well-tended yet neatly camouflaged paths, there were disused trails overgrown with thorns. She hurried quickly home, and found her community in ruins. Much of the village was gone—destroyed by powerful magic. The few townsfolk who remained told a terrible tale of woe, how elves, corrupted by evil magics, had taken many of the town prisoner and slaughtered the rest. Her father had fought back, but was slaughtered, along with the rest of her family. The magic had taken its toll on the forest, too—choking vines, weeds, and poisonous plants were taking over the once vibrant understory of the village, and some of the amazing ancient oaks and weirwoods were dying from blight. Distraught by the loss of her family, and still angry from her recent heartache, Penelope vowed to track down the evil elves who had done this. For months, she had searched. She learned that these elves had once been a clan of mages, but their thirst for more powerful magic had led them to seek out a wellspring of magic. This font of magic had been too much, and had corrupted the elves’ being, sustaining them without food or water, twisting their features and leaving only husks of their former selves. They had allied with whomever would help further their power-hungry ends, and were led by the evil enchantress of the wood. This enchantress had taken up residence at an old tower deep in the Enchanted Forest, and it was there Penelope now went. She knew that she would likely never return from her self-imposed mission to rid the forest of the evil spell, as the enchantress was powerful and her minions many, but it did not matter. Her family gone, her lover treasonous, she had only her love of the forest, yet that, too, was being taken away. Little else mattered to her but the thought of ending the rule of the enchantress or dying in the attempt. The sun now finally down, Penelope shook her head to clear it of the memories, and stretched her limbs, focusing on her task at hand. The tower itself was an old, stone, square tower. Despite its age, it had been well maintained and looked to be quite solid. Some of the older elves of the forest had been in the tower centuries before, and had told Penelope that there were two levels to the tower, aside from the roof, plus a basement, and that all the levels were joined by staircases. Penelope had reconnoitered the tower and had planned to approach this evening during a party to cover her movements. Penelope stole through the thorny undergrowth that had become thick in this part of the Enchanted Forest since she was last here. She used her understanding of how to move through the forest to be as quiet as she could, even if she was not as silent as her adoptive elven family. Her stealth was unnecessary, since her intelligence was correct: the party was in full swing by the time she arrived and there was enough noise coming from the ground floor to have covered any mistakes she could have made. Because she had no invitation, she couldn’t use a disguise to come in the front door. She had thought about a number of methods, but finally had discovered a small rodent den near the base of the tower. Shrinking herself to the size of a mouse with her magic, she crawled through the mouse den and into the basement of the tower. Carefully making her way down toward the floor, she popped back to her full size, startling the dog wrapped in chains. The poor animal, obviously abused, barked fearfully and backed away from Penelope in the darkness. She lit a torch on the wall and then fed the dog some bits of meat, talking gently to him in the way that her ranger father had taught her. Wary at first, the dog warmed up to Penelope, and then calmed down. She looked around the basement and found a baby dragon caged against the far wall, and an elf, near the point of consciousness, badly beaten and caged as well. A table sat in the middle of the floor, stained with blood, and containing implements of torture. On a hook on the edge of the table was a key. Taking the key, Penelope moved to the imprisoned elf, and whispered to him. He stirred and looked at her with disbelief. “My friend,” she began in the elven tongue. “I am here to destroy the enchantress, and you shall be free.” She unlocked the door and helped the weakened elf out of the prison cell. She offered him some water and food, helping him to eat and drink. “Who are you?” the elf asked in disbelief. “You are human, yet you speak elven as if it were native to you. Are you another magical illusion created to torture me?” he asked. Penelope smiled sadly at him. “No, I am no illusion.” She pressed his hand with hers, showing that she was quite real. “I am called Penelope, and I am of the Brightleaf clan a few days’ ride from here. I was raised by an elven ranger and his family, though I am not an elf.” The elf seemed puzzled, then an expression of knowing came across his face. “I recall hearing of such an adoptive family and know of your kin,” he said, sipping water as his strength returned to him. “I am glad to meet you, Penelope. I am Methir of the Willowstream clan. Blessed greetings to you, and praises be that you have found me. How did you get in here, and how are we to leave?” he asked. “I used magic to enter,” Penelope explained as she crouched beside the elf. “I cannot bring you out the same way, as my magic will not let me take anyone much larger than that dog there,”shesaid, pointing to the dog. “However, I can arm you, and you can make your way out the front door.” “I have no strength left in me,” Methir said. “How am I to fight my way to the front door? There are guards, the enchantress, and her disciples. I am no match for them, even were I in top condition.” Penelope shook her head. “My hope is that you will not have to fight anyone on the way out. There is a party upstairs right now, so there are many guests. Once I create my distraction, you will only have to simply slip in with the crowd to escape.” “A distraction?” Methir asked. “How do you know that the partygoers will want to leave?” Penelope smiled a wicked smile. “I am quite certain that once things start, not even the guards will want to stick around. I plan to kill the enchantress.” Methir raised his eyebrows. “Really? I suspect that will be more difficult than you have anticipated.” “Perhaps,” Penelope conceded. “Whether successful or not, I suspect that a battle with the enchantress of the tower will prove a worthy enough show to cause the partgoers to leave.” Methir nodded. “I would like to see that,” he smiled weakly. “I will do my best to escape. How will I know when the time has come?” “I would think when the screaming starts,” Penelope responded. “Tell me, what do you know of the enchantress and this tower?” “Upstairs is the receiving floor, where guests are entertained. At the back of the hall is a spiral staircase leading to a small hallway before the private chambers of the enchantress. Inside the private chambers are her laboratory and study where she corrupts the magic of the forest towards her evil purposes. You should know that there is some sort of blue gemstone that she uses as the source of her power. I think it is something ancient from the forest, but have only seen it once so I don’t know much about it. She keeps it on herself at all times, but with it, she is too powerful to defeat. Her disciples guard her private chambers, and the will fight to the death for her. She also keeps a dragon chained on the roof that does her bidding. If she can make it to the roof, expect to fight the dragon as well.” Penelope frowned at the thought of fighting a dragon. The enchantress seemed a tall order herself, but if she were able to take her by surprise, there might be a chance. With a dragon? This seemed impossible, but Penelope gritted her teeth and let her anger and hurt flow through her. If she could not defeat these evil creatures, she would injure them as severely as she could, hopefully buying a reprieve for the creatures of the surrounding forest. “I am going to free the dog and dragon,” Penelope said. “I will take them with me and free them when I can. My magical bag has an extra dimension of space and I can fit them inside,” she explained, pointing to her satchel. “You are too large, but take this dagger and my bow and arrows,” she said, handing him her weaponry. “Take this water and food as well, and rest near the door at the top of the stairs until you hear the excitement start. May Corellon guide your steps back to the freedom of the forest,” she said. “And may his blessing smile upon you this night,” he responded, taking the gifts offered him and slowly making his way up the stairs. Penelope unchained the dog first, scratching him behind the ears and feeding him some more bits of meat, before uncaging the dragon. That process was a bit more dangerous, but her father had taught her about magical creatures as well, and, with a few singed fingertips, she managed to feed the dragon some meat and water, starting to befriend her as well. She reached into her bag, pulling out her formal dress and stowing her ranger gear. She put on some makeup, changed into her dress, and made sure she looked proper. She then calmed both the dog and the baby dragon before stowing them in her extradimensional bag and walking up the stairs. She stopped on the landing before the door where Methir stood. He looked at her, now in a dress, with her golden hair let down. “I see you have come prepared. Good luck!” With that, Penelope opened the door, stepped into the hall, and quickly closed the door behind her. The light and sound from the party washed over her and she moved to the side of the room. Looking around, she noted the partygoers. There was a mixture of humans, elves, and elves twisted by magical power, easily noted by their malnourished, emaciated look. A servant moved around the room with drinks, and Penelope grabbed one from the tray. The food was obviously for the human and elven guests, as the evil mages derived all their sustenance from magic and had no need to eat. Occasionally they would enjoy a drink or some sweets, but these were purely for entertainment. The food looked good, though, and Penelope realized that the enchantress must be courting some of the local elves, trying to win them over or gain their support, making it easy to take over the forest. She recognized several representatives of local lords, including one lord himself. It disgusted her to see them entertaining the notion of selling out their own people, but she realized that the enchantress may have become too powerful and these politicians may be here trying to save what remained of their people. She could not see the enchantress after a few minutes of scanning the room, so she made a meandering path over to the staircase, setting her drink down along the way, and quickly ascending the stairs. She slowed as she made the top of the staircase where the second floor grew quieter. A shield hung on the end of the wall, and a set of windows overlooked the back of the tower grounds. To the right, there was a door. Penelope stole her way silently to the door and listened intently. She heard a discussion on the other side and recognized by the context that the enchantress must be there. Trying the door slowly, she found it locked. She pulled out her set of lockpicks, but it was to no avail—she was not nearly as good a thief as she would have liked, and this lock was expensive and high quality. As she toiled away, she heard the conversation abruptly end and she knew she was found out. She dropped her lockpicks, stepped back, and cast a spell of force with a shout, breaking the door down instantly. The door crashed to the ground in front of her, but the enchantress and one of her disciples were ready, and Penelope narrowly dodged a bolt of magic that soared past her. Penelope’s eyes glowed as she spoke the arcane words of power and hurled a flaming bolt at the enchantress. The enchantress’ eyes widened as she understood that this was no mere disgruntled elf that stood before her, but a determined attacker that would take some attention to deal with, so she barked an order for her disciple to kill the intruder as she climbed the ladder behind her to the roof. Penelope knew she was going to set herself up from her greatest position of power on the rooftop with her dragon, but there was another mage to defeat first. The disciple, clad in blue with a black hood and a black cloak, threw a lightning bolt at Penelope. Penelope countered with a jet of flame, deflecting the bolt, and then burning the evil mage to death. The crash of the door and the roar of flames had been heard below. The dragon on the roof began shrieking, and that was enough for the partygoers. Screaming and panic ensued below and Penelope heard the crowd flee out the door. She hoped Methir was with them. Penelope wiped some soot from her face and prepared for her last battle. She ripped the skirt off from around her waist, leaving her hardened olive green breeches beneath. She reached into her bag and grabbed her forest green armor, fastening it over the top portion of her dress. She pulled out her longsword and traveling cloak, donning these as well. She cradled the impossibly small dog and pulled him out, watching as he re-expanded from the magic. She scratched behind his ears and wished him luck as she shooed him out of the tower. He sat for a minute, then turned and slowly walked out of the room. The last item she pulled out of the bag was her bronze medallion that she had been found with as an infant. She held it, looking at the strange symbols on its surface, wondering what they meant, and would become of the medallion when she was dead. She clasped its long chain behind her neck, deciding to wear it proudly in her last moments. Her preparations done, she laid a hand on the baby dragon in her magical bag, determined to release it as soon as she was on the roof, then climbed the ladder to meet her fate. She popped open the hatch and was hit with a stinging magical stunning bolt. It was all she could do to roll herself out onto the roof to avoid falling back down the ladder. The enchantress stood across the roof from her in a long black dress, her black cape blowing in the strong wind, her white hair done up in a braid about the top of her head. To her left stood a green dragon, chained to the rooftop. “Who are you that dares to come here and attack me?” the enchantress asked. “I have command of the elements,” she began, holding up a large blue gemstone. “I have command of dragons,” she gestured to the dragon beside her. “I control this entire forest. Speak. Who has sent you here to try to destroy me?” Penelope struggled to catch her breath as the stinging magical shock slowly subsided from her body. Her one thought was to free the baby dragon before she was killed so it could fly away. “No one sent me,” she said as she grabbed the baby dragon and threw it out into the wind. “Lies!” The enchantress roared, and sent another stinging bolt at Penelope. The next events unfolded in the space of only a few seconds, but to Penelope everything seemed to move in slow motion. As the enchantress sent her bolt into Penelope, the baby dragon unfurled its wings and began to fly in the strong wind. The adult dragon saw it and roared, straining against its chains. The enchantress looked over at the baby dragon and then her eyes went wide as it circled toward the larger dragon and landed at its feet. Despite the pain coursing through her body, Penelope saw this scene and realized that the baby dragon she had freed was this dragon’s baby. The enchantress didn’t have some incredible power over dragons, and wasn’t controlling this one with a spell: she had been holding its offspring hostage to make it carry out her desires. Now that Penelope had unwittingly freed its child, the dragon turned on the enchantress and attacked. Penelope saw her opportunity and summoned her remaining strength. She pushed herself up from the ground and drew her sword. The first couple steps were painful, but she fought through, and walking became easier. The enchantress was throwing all her magic at the dragon to keep herself from being eaten, and Penelope moved in behind her, slicing her sword through her neck and beheading her. Penelope roared with pain and excitement as she held the enchantress’ head aloft. A moment later, she dropped the head and began searching the body. On it she found a few coins and random spell components, and in her hand was the large blue gem she had seen before. Penelope picked it up, feeling the magical power contained within, and pocketed it. She then moved to free the dragon from its chains. A bit of magic and some bashing with the hilt of her sword and the chains came loose. The dragon looked at Penelope gratefully as it flew off into the night with its daughter. Penelope climbed back down the ladder into the study to find the dog waiting for her, wagging its tail. She petted him, still shaking from the adrenaline, and looked around the room. She quickly went through the books, stowing the spellbooks and useful arcane tomes in her magical bag, then headed downstairs. As she had suspected, the place had cleared out, and the door to the basement was open. She hoped that meant that Methir had escaped. Grabbing an apple and and a bottle of wine on the way out the door, Penelope and her new canine companion walked briskly out the front door and into the night. That evening she camped in the woods. The next day she got up and began to boil some water for tea as she stoked the coals from the night before. As she sat drinking tea, wrapped in her cloak with a dog beside her, she wondered what she would do next. She hadn’t really considered what would happen if she managed to kill the enchantress. Her hand went to her pocket, finding the blue gem. She studied the large, cut stone that was about the size of an unshelled hickory nut. Assuming that it would likely fetch quite a price at market, she decided to sell it and use the proceeds to help rebuild her home community as best she knew how. To do that, she would need to go to the large Albion market, and to get there, she would need more supplies. She walked the trail to the nearest village, intent to buying supplies for her journey, and found it all abuzz with activity. The villagers were very excited about something. She walked up to the well in the center of town and asked one of the girls collecting water there what was going on. “Haven’t you heard?” the young elf maiden began. “The enchantress is dead! The news has been going around all morning. There was a great ruckus at the tower last night, and this morning all her disciples were fled and her body found atop the great tower!” Penelope thanked the girl and began to fill her waterskins from the well while looking for a farmer willing to part with some food for her journey. As she finished filling her skins, and the townsfolk bustled excitedly about, an old elf stopped in his tracks and stared at her. She looked at him, seeing that he was not just old, but positively ancient. He had almost no hair left, and was hobbled over, holding himself up with a staff, and wore simple brown robes with a hood that was down. He raised a crooked finger at Penelope and said: “You!” Penelope straightened up, fastening her waterskins to her belt to make a quick getaway, thinking maybe this old elf was some friend of the enchantress and was upset that Penelope had killed her. She started to turn to flee, but the townsfolk had already gathered around her. Her new dog companion tensed at her side. Seeing that she was trapped, Penelope faced the old elf. “I don’t know you and have no quarrel with you, friend,” she said in elven. The old elf smiled and hobbled closer. “No, you do not know us, and we do not know you, but we have been waiting many years for you.” Penelope was stunned. “Ummm…. How are you waiting for me if you don’t know me?” she asked, confused. “An ancient prophecy tells of one who will arise to cleanse the forest of a great darkness. This champion will be the heir of the druids of old and rule the land.” Penelope looked around. “And you think that’s me?” She laughed. “Do I look like a ruler to you?” The old man pointed to her medallion. “You wear the seal of the ancient druids. That medallion is older than this forest, my dear. I forsaw this event decades ago and am pleased that I have lived long enough to witness it. Tell me, do you also possess a large, magical blue gemstone?” At this, Penelope was a little taken aback. How did this old elf know she had stolen the blue gem from the enchantress? She wondered if this was some sort of scam to steal the gem from her, but then realized it would be difficult to have the whole village in on it, and the whole village was watching now by the looks of it. She slowly reached into her pocket and produced the blue gem, holding it in her outstretched hand for the old elf to see. He took a long, slow breath. “I see I am not mistaken.” He turned to the crowd. “This is the heir of the ancient druids, bearing their seal, and the bluestone of the elements. She has defeated the evil enchantress and returned the forest to its people. She is the rightful queen of this forest, and this land.” The old elf turned and bowed as low as he was still able. The villagers kneeled before her. Penelope did not know what to do. A moment later, she recovered and reached forward to the old elf and helped him stand upright. “Please, don’t kneel,” she said to the villagers. “I was raised in a village not far from here, just like you.” The villagers looked at each other and seemed unsure of what to do. The old elf spoke again. “It may well be that you were raised in a village near here, but you are not just another one of us. You are descended from the ancient druids and it Is your responsibility to lead us all now.” Penelope looked around at the villagers in stunned silence, unsure of what to do. “Come, we shall ride together to Albion.” The old elf bid one of the others to bring two horses, and he led Penelope on horseback down some trails while her new (as of yet unnamed) dog followed alongside. Penelope found herself wondering why she was following this old elf, not believing for a second that she was the heir to anything but bad luck. She thought about bolting on the horse, but the horse wasn’t hers, and she had a feeling the elf or some villagers would come looking for her after the big scene at the well, so she resigned herself to travel with him to Albion. She smiled, thinking of the politics and chaos of Albion, the big city that she had lived in for so many years. This old elf was crazy if he thought that he was going to ride into the capital from some small village with a freshly minted mage and have her crowned. They’d be laughed out of the city. She sighed as she listened to the old elf ramble on about druids, the enchantress, his home village and a host of other things. It took several days to get to Albion, so she had plenty of time to listen. Finally they arrived at the gates of the city and rode through. This old elf was determined, and rode straight into town, through the inner sanctum and straight up to the great keep. Penelope had never been there and was more than a little intimidated, now under the scrutiny of the guards. “OK, I rode all the way here with you, listened to your stories, tried to humor you… but I don’t think we should bother the regent. I’d rather go home than go to prison.” The old elf dismounted his horse and waved his hand. “Nonsense. These are honorable men and we have committed no crimes.” He helped Penelope off her horse and then grabbed her arm and gently pulled her into the great keep with him. Penelope’s new dog followed them both. Entering the great keep, they found that they had arrived on a grievance day, where any Avalonian could wait in line to beseech the king, or in this case the regent (due to Artorious’ absence), for a remedy to their problems. The regent looked bored, sitting on his throne, listening to locals’ disputes over water rights, chickens, and other mundane issues. Finally, their turn in line came, and the herald greeted them. “Who comes before the king regent?” the herald asked. “I am Aoer Darkmoss, and this is Penelope Brightleaf,” the old elf replied, and the scribed copied down their names into the ledger. “And what grievance have you brought before the king regent?” the herald asked. The regent, slumped to the side in his chair and holding his head up with his hand, yawned. “We have no grievance for the king regent.” Aoer began. “I present to you the heir to the throne, Penelope Brightleaf.” The scribe quit writing for a second, and the regent looked up in surprise. The rest of the hall went silent as the townsfolk present waited to hear what came next. “His majesty King Artorious Rex has not been shown dead,” the herald began, “and as the rightful king of Avalonia, cannot be replaced at this time. Thank you,” the herald said dismissively, and waved the next petitioner forward. “I am not speaking of King Artorious or his line,” Aoer replied, stopping the advancement of the line. “This is the last descendant of the druids that stands before you, and as such, is the rightful heir to the throne.” The herald looked to the regent, who was now fully engaged. “What proof do you have of such an outlandish claim?” the regent asked. “Penelope has killed the evil enchantress of the Enchanted Forest,” Aoer stated, resulting in a gasp from the audience. “And she possesses both the bluestone of the elements and the seal of the druids,” he finished, pointing to the medallion on Penelope’s chest. “Show them the bluestone,” he whispered to Penelope. Feeling all eyes on her, Penelope slowly and reluctantly pulled the bluestone from her pocket and heard another collective gasp. “Come here, my dear,” the regent said to Penelope, and she obeyed. He examined the bluestone first, and then the medallion. It seemed that a glimmer of recognition passed over his face, and he called a page over to him, whispering in his ear. “Where did you come by this medallion and this stone?” he asked Penelope. “I was found with the medallion as an infant, abandoned in the Enchanted Forest,” Penelope replied. “The stone I retrieved from the enchantress after I defeated her.” “If what you say is true, we owe you a debt of gratitude for ridding the forest of the evil enchantress at the least,” he said. The scribe returned with a scroll, and the regent unfurled it, looking at the design. He held the scroll next to the medallion and stared in disbelief. Penelope peeked over the edge of the ancient scroll and saw a drawing of her medallion on it. She was confused and not a little scared. The regent called his advisors over, and they all discussed the medallion and the scroll. The regent then called the court wizard over, talked for a moment in a low voice, and the wizard then retreated to a side room. A minute later, he came back and nodded to the regent. “I am pleased to announce to everyone that the evil enchantress of the forest is dead. It has been confirmed that she is slain by a woman matching Penelope’s description. For that, we are grateful. I must adjourn the rest of the grievances today for a council meeting.” He turned to the herald. “Summon the entire council, at once.” He moved with his advisors and attendants to the council chambers. The guards moved to usher the townsfolk out of the hall, but the herald held Aoer and Penelope back. Within a few minutes, they were left alone in the hall with the guards. “So, what just happened?” Penelope asked Aoer. “They are starting to believe,” Aoer smiled. “They have seen the ancient prophecy that predicts the return of the line of the druids, just as I have, and with confirmation of the enchantress’ death, they now must decide the fate of the country. Shall we remain leaderless with an absent ruler, or shall we embrace the prophecy and restore the line of the druids?” Penelope swallowed hard and looked around the great keep. Was this really happening? Could she really be crowned? It seemed too much to take in. And now, it is up to you, the reader, to decide: is Penelope Brightleaf the rightful heir to the druids and the Avalonian throne? Or is this just a fanciful dream of a young Avalonian child?

Conrad met many interesting people in his life so far. Most of them become his allies, few of them his enemies. But there is only a handful of them, who has remarkable stories, how they joined, to the Wolf Brigade. This is their stories: This is the story of Lok, the Wild One. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A few years ago, Conrad was traveling through Avalonia, with some of his soldiers, and two new potential recruits. They had to venture through a small forest, known as the Thin Forest. The forest got its name, by growing along next to a small river centuries ago. The only way to cross the river, on a small bridge. And Conrad was sure, the bridge wasn't occupied, when they crossed it from the other side. A young boy, wearing leather armor customized to fit for his size, stood on the middle of the bridge. -What's the matter, boy? - started Conrad. - Are you lost? - All who wishes, to cross this bridge must pay its toll! - the boy didn't show any fear against the armed men. -When I crossed this bridge not long ago, there wasn't any toll for crossing it. - Conrad tried to resolve this small conflict with peace. He admired the boy for his courage. He reminds him when he was that young. - And what's the toll? - Five golden coins! - came the answer. - Hah, that's not much for... - ...Per person for the crossing! - the boy interrupted Conrad with his sentence. Conrad was amazed. He wasn't prepared for that answer. His pouch wasn't empty, but he could spend that much gold for other things, more important. He turned around and start counting his soldiers, and captives. At halfway he stopped. He felt he was fooled. He turned back to the boy: - Alright boy, here is the deal: let us cross your bridge and we won't slap you, while we crossing it. - Conrad allowed himself a smug smile. - Can you count how many slaps will you get, if you being so stubborn? - Non! - replied the boy with such bravery. - Cause the others will beat the gold out of you! - He whistled, and the Thin Forest filled up with bandits. Conrad was sure, there were more human in this small section of the forest, then trees. For last, a large brute arrived at the scene, wielding a staff. He leads them, Conrad made the conclusion. - Alright... - his voice was calm and powerful. - The toll raised. Handle over all of your weapons, and equipment, and be gone! Conrad was in bigger trouble than this, but he had to think fast. He had to come out from this situation as a winner. He looked around a bunch of lowlifes, dwelling in the forest. Living day by day, with no future. He remembered how harsh was for him. That's it! - And what if I offer you something instead... - the brute raised his eyebrow, above his intact eye. - I'm offering you, and your man a chance. Work for me, I can give you a home, food, and payment. No longer have to live in the forest, rob others to survive another day! I know how hard the forest can be, be reasonable, think for your people! The bandits looked at each other with questions on their faces. Their leader saw them too it was tempting to accept it, but he didn't want to lose their freedom. He also had to think fast: - You say you know how hard to live in the forest. - he took the staff from the boy. - Then you know it rules. We follow only the strongest. Beat me! - and he threw the staff to Conrad. - And we will follow you. - And if you win? - asked Conrad while he put down his weapons and armor. - I guess you still take our wealth and equipment, right? - I heard they give good money for slaves in Varlyrio... - smiled the brute. This gave Conrad the creeps. If the duel was about smiling, Conrad was surely lost it. They stepped on the bridge railing and looked to each other. For the spectators, it felt like an eternity. Then, the brute grabbed the staff with both hands and started swinging wildly. Conrad considers to not parry them, only to dodge them, and find his opponents weak point. After a few unsuccessful strikes, the bandit decided, to change his tactics, he started swinging more rapidly, more wildly. Conrad used this as an advantage and after a dodge, he hit the brutes knee. He roared in anger and pain, then he raised the staff above his head to strike down. Again, Conrad was faster and hit his chin. He lost his balance and to regain it, he had to step back. But Conrad was counting on this, he struck the staff behind his opponent, and pushed him. His own weight does the rest. Birds flew away when the quiet of the forest was disturbed with a loud splash. And another. Everyone was watching the water, under the waterfall. -Bruaaahhh! - surfaced the brute. The temperature of the water surely helped him, not to blown up, from his anger. He swam to the shore, where one of his men helped him out, he looked up. Conrad stood on the conquered bridge. The rest of the spectators, both bandits and mercenaries were looking at him and waiting for his answer. He blow some water out of his nose, he felt the bruise on his chin, but the cold water eased his pain. The others still waited for his answer. - Let it be. - came the answer at last. - If you lead, we will follow you. Both sides started to cheer. Conrad not only recruited new members for his army but found someone who will be his loyal friend. There was one more formality... - We not yet introduced our self. I am Conrad the Sly. The leader of the Wolf Brigade mercenary group. - You can call me Lok. Lok the Wild One...

A mercenary's story: Part VI (epilogue) If you missed, here is the previous parts: A mercenary's story: Part I A mercenary's story: Part II A mercenary's story: Part III A mercenary's story: Part IV A mercenary's story: Part V Home sweet home! Conrad returned to his homeland after so many years. While he was away, the local lord gave a name to this region of Avalonia. They call it now Deep Garden, after the place is a bit under the sea level, and full with orchards. Conrad arrived at Rosebury, the biggest town in the region, where he and his father went on markets day. He left his followers here, and he went, to find his parents home. He found it, or at least the ruins of it. He didn't find anyone there, just a sole tombstone. So he went to the nearby farm, maybe, someone could explain what happened here. The neighbor was new too, he bought the farm from the previous owner, Conrad was glad, cause he used to steal apples from that neighbor. But, he wasn't so informative, he told Conrad what he knew about his family. The last three or four winter was really harsh. And the crops wasn't much, in those years. The lord, who named the region, eventually run out of money, after the exports, to keep his subjects fed, and to try grown new crops. One day he disappeared without any trace, some says, he traveled to Kaliphlin, to start over his fortune again. And he left everything behind. The soldiers without their payment left the region, or in the worst case, they went rogue and started pillaging the remaining supplies what we had. And Conrad's family was one of the victims. He heard about two male corpses. When Conrad asked about his mother and sisters and the tombstone, the neighbor knew little about them. The tombstone was raised for a women, maybe for his mother. And her sisters were married to someones Conrad was shocked, he blamed himself for he wasn't here, when the bandits attacked his home. But he quickly realized, he couldn't do anything to save his family, and it's sure, he would be dead too. He returned to Rosebury, to his men. They didn't go for the promised adventure, what Conrad told them. They spend the night here, Conrad wasn't able to sleep, many thoughts harassed him during the night. He felt bad, for what happened here, while he was away, but maybe this was his fate. Maybe every action what he made, lead him to this. Maybe it was the time, to show the world, what did he learn. The next day they armed themselves and rushed into the town hall. The mayor of the town become pale as snow when he saw the armed warriors walking inside in the room, demanding his presence. But Conrad quickly told him, what is this all about, and offered him his help. In the afternoon, all of Deep Garden knew about the new martial law, which was lead by Conrad. He promised, to take the position, as Protector of Deep Garden. He also promised, he would solve the bandit problem, and find a way, so Deep Garden can prosper again! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And this is the end of Conrad's backstory. I really enjoyed the writing, the building, to show you guys, how did I imagine my sigfigs story, and how did he become part of Historica. It took longer than I expected, challenges, CCC, real-life things, but it is finally done! For my next builds and stories, now you know Conrad the Sly, but not yet know the stories of his closes friends: Zan, Lok, and Boris. They all have their little backstories, how they joined to Conrad's army. There will be more twists, more action, more dark humor, and of course, more Builds!

The man hated this place. He hated coming out here, into the depths of the Badlands, hated meeting with those withered creatures, hated waiting for them in the cold shadow of this great, unsettling thing. Yet, here he was, nonetheless. He first saw their tiny figures when they mounted a distant dune. He watched them steadily descend its face into the next valley, then several moments later they appeared again, closer now, still coming at an even pace, unhindered by the rising heat that began to pulse in shimmering waves off of the endless sea of sand. They reached the crest of the penultimate dune, and his horse, which had been idly pulling at the burnt stalks of some long-dead shrub, came to him nervously pressed its head against his shoulder. Even she didn't like these meetings. In a few more moments they were there before him, and the first among them spoke. "Your task is done, then?" it rasped, its red eyes flickering behind the rags that held it together. "Of course," the man answered stiffly. "The proper people were paid, the peasants were fed, the shows went on., as promised." "So say our listeners. You have again performed...more than adequately. Your payment will be delivered to the oasis south of the Fallen Angel on the fifth day hence. A portion will also be delivered, to be used towards our efforts. Return to this place in two fortnights for further instruction. This is an adequate rendezvous, is it not?" "I'd prefer somewhere closer to water," the man said slowly. "My horse doesn't do well so far out here." "Perhaps a camel would suit you better," the creature dismissively returned. "No, closer to water is closer to eyes that might see that which must not be seen. Our meetings must remain unmarked. Besides, this place is significant to us." The man didn't respond. He'd tried, though he didn't expect to get much better from such dealers as these. He began to turn to leave when the creature spoke again. "Do you know why this place is notable?" Its voice seemed distant now, its gaze rolled slowly up and down the strange grey stones of the spire, and still the man didn't respond. "This marks the site of a great victory for our kingdom. Here, where lay their last great city, was the final gasp of an ancient empire, who came before even the god-kings of old. In their time they knew power unrivaled, ruled over lands innumerable, counted themselves as masters over earth, sky, and sea, and yet they are gone, and we remain. Our armies crushed them to a man, their halls and towers were torn to the ground, and our mighty king wrapped the very stones in the loving arms of this desert. Such is the fate of those who would stand before us!" Its eyes flashed brightly as its voice came to a crescendo, then just as suddenly the creature was silent. "As you say." The man bowed his head and turned, walking his horse back past the spire, the way he had come. "Remember," called the creature, and the man paused and looked back, "Our great master is generous to those who serve him well. Give thanks, and pray that you never fail him." The man bowed his head again, and both parties turned and left. When he was sure the creatures could no longer see him, he mounted his horse and spurred her away as fast as she would run.

A mercenary's story: Part V If you missed, here is the previous parts: A mercenary's story: Part I A mercenary's story: Part II A mercenary's story: Part III A mercenary's story: Part IV Days passed since Conrad had blood on his hands. After that day, he becomes an official member, of the army. The leader employed him, as his squire. He kept his armor clean, and his weapons sharp. He allowed the boy, to sleep in his tent, so the others can't bother him. After the first month, he received his first payment. Conrad never saw that many coins. Actually, he never saw any... In return, later he taught him. First, reading and writing, after that, strategies, tactics, and the arts of war. The boy was happy, after many years, he found his place in the world. After a few months, he was allowed, to train with the other soldiers. Conrad was trained in every type of weapons. From swords to archery, he tried to master them all. He even was able, to learn some use of exotic weapons too. The others started to like the boy. His spirit was inspiring to others too, to everyone become better. Many days had passed, they become weeks, and weeks become months. The months become years, and finally, a decade has passed. The boy was not a boy anymore, but a young man. Trained in the arts of war. Conrad becomes the leaders most favorited soldier. Later he was tasked, to go on recruit missions. During that time, he earned his title: Conrad the Sly. He earned it, with the methods, he used, to persuade the new recruits, to join. Again, another few years have passed. Conrad becomes more experienced and becomes more valuable to the army. The leader even chose him, to become one of his generals. He ordered his own recruited soldiers in battles. In fact, his men were trained not to face the enemies face to face. He preferred a more subtle approach, to deal with his enemies. But every good has to end somehow. A soldiers life is always full of wars and conflicts. It was the time when Revolword rebelled, and he released the elemental monsters to conquer Historica. The mercenaries were hired too, by the lords of Historica to help defeat this threat. For them, it was easier to send former criminals to die, then their own men. A battle against the elemental monsters and their masters was the mercenaries last battle. During their last battle, the leader was killed, and many of the soldiers used this, to abandon the fight in the chaos. After the disaster, the remaining generals of the army wasn't able to choose a new leader among them, so they decided to disband the remnants of the army. Many of Conrad's recruits wanted to follow him. He planned to go home, show his parents what he has become after many years. And after that, he could start adventuring. The story will end here.

The queen ran down the corridor, to catch up with N'ri. He was called away for something, but the queen's curiosity drives her crazy, and she must know why the royal advisor was needed elsewhere. Finally, she finds him, but the clatter of her shoes betray her, and N'ri turned back, only to saw Ylspeth's approach. - Your Grace. - bowed down the advisor. - How can I be in yo... - Are the rumors are true? - she interrupted him, but before she could continue, she took a deep breath. - Tell me N'ri! - It depends what rumors are you interested your Grace? - N'ri continued his walk to his destination. Ylspeth followed him, but she wasn't very happy about the answer. - Don't play riddles with me! Tell me, is it true? Did someone find Artorious? - I'm not sure about that. In the gatekeeper's report, they let in two men. One is Lord Trian Burress, and the other is a knight-errant from Avalonia. He doesn't resemble Artorius. Moments later, they have arrived at the small councilor's chamber, where the two knights waited for them, actually, they waited only for N'ri. The door opened, first N'ri, then Ylsphet entered. The knights quickly kneeled down. - Your Grace! - they simultaneously welcomed the queen. It felt they were practicing this for days. Ylsphet smiled, she bowed to the two knights and take her seat. The two men stood up and waited to be introduced by the royal advisor. Protocols... - Queen Ylsphet, High-Queen of Historica. - started the introduction. Then he turned to the knights: - Lord Trian Burress from Mesodraconem, and Sir Ardo Ungar, a knight from Avalonia. The knights bowed again, and now all of them took their seats. Awkward silence started in the chamber, but Ylsphet broke it: - Lord Burress, rumors came to my ear, that you met with Artorius Rex, is it true? - Yes, my Grace - answered the old knight - And I can suggest your next question, but I must tell your Grace the bad news. He died not long ago. The awkward silence continued its reign. Ylsphet bit her lips, after hearing the bad news. She wasn't able, but N'ri continued the asking: - But, did he named someone, as a successor to Avalonian throne? - asked N'ri and raised his eyebrow. Trian and Alto looked at each other. The old knight nodded, and he started: - It's a long story, I will try to make it short. It started a few days ago. I was at my home in Mesodraconem. Tending the back garden, after the civil war it's relaxing. But a servant came to me, cause some guests, they said, they are good friends of mine. At first, I don't recognize them, a young knight and an old hermit. The old man smiled and greeted me like we knew each other for years. His grip was strong for an old man, and the fires of youth burned in his eyes. It took me a while to recognize him. Artorius... Trian Burress saw the surprise on Ylsphet's and N'ri's faces. - Yes, I looked like that too. - I quickly ordered some refreshments and offered them seats in my garden. Then Artorius started his tale: He told us, about the failed expedition. They were scattered on the Mystic Isles. All of his men went missing or died. He didn't meet anyone on that island, where he woked up. Then, he told us about the strange isle, where the time doesn't work, as it works on the continent. He counted two weeks on the isle when he finally finished his makeshift boat and left it. But when he arrived on the shores, he not only discovered, that three years already passed since his disappearances. But also he started aging very strangely. The aura of the isle done this to him. He knew he didn't have much time, and must reach Mesodraconem before it's too late. But it was fate, who brought together Artorius and Alto, and with his help, Artorius reached me in time. I wanted to help him, advised him, to bring here the best sages and sorcerers to cure him, and also inform the council, the return of our king. But he declines it. He felt his end, but he won't leave Avaolia without a rightful ruler. And he already finds someone. - May I ask who? We must reach him out, to fulfill Artorius last wish! - asked Ylsphet in haste. - We don't have to. - answered Trian. - He already passed the reign. - He took a deep breath, stood up from the chair: - Let me introduce you, Sir Ardo Ungar! King of Avalonia, first of his name. - then, he put a document on the table, signed by Artorius. Also signed and witnessed by Trian. It's a common habit, to name a room in the castles, after a historic event. Events, like signing peace contracts or after a famous person. In this case, they can name this chamber, the Chamber of Awkward Silence. Cause this happened a lot in the past few minutes. Again, N'ri broke the silence: - But, how? And why him?. - I will continue the story of Artorius. - came the answer from Ardo, before Trian were able to continue it. - I spend much more time with him in his final days, then everyone. Both of us was shocked when he declared me as his successor. But he started telling us the facts, about his choice: "He said I was the only one, ho helped him. And also not for any fame, or payment. A good king must act selflessly" "He thanked me when I gave him my food, in turn, It wasn't much for both of us. A good king must serve his people." "He mentioned the help, what I gave to a farmer, whos cattle stuck in the swamp. A king doesn't be afraid to be dirty, to help others. " "And for the last, he must possess good diplomatic skills. He told us that encounter, when I was able to resolve a conflict, without bloodshed. " - I tried to tell him, I'm not a ruler type. I know only one thing, to serve Avalonia with all my capabilities. I even don't know how to lead. He replied: when he took the throne, he was the same as me, a young knight, with the same fears: how to lead, what is good and what is wrong. "Listen to your heart, it will guide you to the right path." He said, and for everything else, there will be advisors too, to help your rule. - And you accepted, to become the new ruler? - Asked Ylsphet. - I said: If this is the way to serve Avalonia, then let it be. Click here to see, how the story ends, in the official challenge entry! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A little freebuild/ prelude for the Avalonian Mini-challenge. Before the entry for the challenge, I wanted to show, what events lead to this. Enjoy.

Previously The regular squeak of the cart's axle had plagued them the entire way, and yet the driver seemed entirely oblivious. Meiyo thought it would be wise to stop off and get some fat to lubricate it before they got to the harder part of their journey, but she knew that'd be unlikely. Even though they were in friendly territory on the east side of the high ridge mountains the further west they went the less populated the land became. Her mind wandered back over the events of the past few days. After his father's orders to head west a few days ago, Mychel had wanted to take a strong force of 20 men with him to ensure their safety but Staffen would have none of it. Meiyo listened as Staffen told Mychel that he needed the men of the Conzaga private militia with him in case his enemies struck again, and he offhandedly remarked that "the bird" would keep him safe. Meiyo would miss the safety and comfort of the eastern lands, but getting some respite from Staffen's sharp tongue would be welcome. In the end Meiyo had gone to the barracks and asked for volunteers. There had been few hands raised, but when an old veteran came forward and declared he would accompany them some of the younger soldiers wanted to come along too. "What is your name soldier?" "It's Gineto. I served with Nestur in the wars against Ravaage." Meiyo examined him closely - he had a neatly trimmed goatee in the Varlyrian style and a well kept but well used chain mail shirt. But his eyes were dark and hard, just the kind of man they would need in the wastelands. "Very well Gineto, you are coming of your own free will mind." Meiyo didn't want anyone to abandon them when the going got tough. Gineto nodded. Meiyo continued, "Pick two of those who have volunteered and meet us at dusk." Travelling with a smaller escort had a number of advantages. For one, the cart and driver that Staffen had supplied his son was not large, and food would be hard to come by once they'd crossed the mountains. Carts would slow them down and become a liability if they were attacked. Additionally, the fewer men in their group meant easier access through the dwarven lands who, being wary of the humans inhabiting the eastern side of Varlyrio, might refuse them passage if they felt threatened. Once the soldiers were gathered and the cart loaded with ale, bread and a few of Mychel's essentials (he expected to travel in a certain manner) the group set off west. They travelled through the rolling green fields and since bandits were rare here the mood was light and conversation flowed. Gineto had an attentive audience for his war stories. The cart's squeak began to slow meaning the convoy was coming to a stop, and Meiyo's thoughts drifted back to the present. A small group of peasants were out picking grapes near the road side. They were using a small storage barn to store their produce before it was transported for sale. Mychel began to veer off the road to engage them in conversation and Meiyo stuck close by, just in case. After a brief chat, the group returned to the road and continued on their way. Meiyo realised she had forgotten to ask for fat for the cart axle, and it's renewed squeak reminded her of how far they still had to go.

The Tales of Lady Gwenllian 0. Introduction 1. The arrival of Lady Gwenllian aboard the Cedar Serpent 2. Scouting a Site 3. Early Spring in Prenmôr 4. The Fishery and Shrine at Prenmôr 5. Opening of the Prenmôr Quarry While Lady Gwenllian was helping the villagers of Flewd move to Prenmôr, the last of the winter snows had thawed, freeing the earth for work. The first order of business for construction was to open a quarry for the massive amount of stone needed. The local limestone was ideal for building, and its proximity to the castle site eliminated the need to transport stone from great distances, facilitating construction of the main fortress and necessary outbuildings. Lady Gwenllian hired a number of laborers and a few stonecutters from the areas around Prenmôr. The limestone was hewn in the traditional manner by hand with pickaxes, roughed into blocks, and then shaped by a stonecutter before being broken out with a wedge and trimmed to final shape. The finished stones were loaded onto a horse drawn cart and taken to the building site, while loose gravel was hauled out in baskets on the backs of workers.

I did not lost! Just had a really s#@& years end in my workplace,and also tried to build a couple of entries to the CCC, (if any of you interested) I returned, and I will continue Conrad's strory,but first, the Bread and Circuses Challenge! To understand my C category entry, we must look back to that point, when Conrad ordered three of his most trusty generals, in secret missions. (here is the recap: Scarlet's Scarlet Brothel) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is the story of Zan the Black Arrow. Zan was tasked to travell south, to the sandy land of Kaliphlin, with a small company of mercenaries. They traveled in secret across Avalonia. When they crossed the border, they were advised by a merchant, to buy a camel, it will help their journey. - Stuborn animal... Come on! - one of the soldier beging for the camel, while trying to force his will on the animal. - I told you, camelss are different from horses. - the other mercenary tired to caml the other down. - Can you remember the command word? - "Can you remember the command word?" - the mercenary stopped pulling the camels chains and started mimicing the other. - Wanna try it smartass? If Zan didn't arrive, the two soldier surely kill each other. - What are you arguing again morons? We must reach Barqa, as the boss tasked us, and you two thought it woud be a good time, to show which one has a bigger mouth? - he went to the camel, picked up the chains and pulled it. - Hut hut hut! - said the words, and repeated the pulling, and repeated the words again. The camel started to move again, the two soldiers was speechless. Zan gave the end of the chain to one of them, and continued the journey. He looked back: - When this is over, I will advise Conrad, to teach all of you some command words...

Previously Laesonar's Saga Episode 9 - Much Needed Water Fine water particles tickled Laesonar's nose as he stared at the waterfall flowing down the abyss below him. The ground underneath the riverbed had opened, creating a gorge that was swallowing up all of the water from the river. To Laesonar's left, after the gorge, the former riverbed, now completely dried up. To his right, at his side, Armin was adjusting his cloak on his shoulders. He turned towards Laesonar as the half-elf spoke to him. "So, master Paladin, why are we looking at this?" Armin wasn't too sure whether that question was ironic. "We wanted to investigate why the river stopped flowing into the lake, remember?" "Oh right. Right." The paladin smiled and huddled up in his cloak, observing the waterfall. "This is weird enough, as they told us. It really doesn't seem the result of a normal earthquake and..." He gave a start, as the half-elf at his side suddenly screamed. "You can come out of those bushes, old man, we know you're there!" Armin turned around and looked where his mate was looking. An old man, indeed, with a weird gaze, came out of some bushes, on the other side of the riverbed. The man looked fixedly at Laesonar, who stared back at him. Armin was confused. "Laesonar, what..." They kept looking at each other's eyes, intensely. Armin noticed and fell silent. After a while, the old man moved his arms and the ground trembled. The earth shook violently and Armin struggled to keep his balance as new soil surfaced, completely filling up the gorge where the water was disappearing into. In the blink of an eye, the river started to flow back into its original riverbed. The old man then turned on his feet and peacefully walked away. Rather perplexed, the two warriors watched him disappearing into the bushes. Armin looked at the half-elf, longing for an explanation. "He is an earth-bender." "A... what?" "Well, some sort of wizard, he said." "He said? When?!" "I heard his voice in my mind." "......" Armin was speechless. He wanted to ask whether... "Well that was easy enough, master Paladin. Let us return to Laelariel, shall we?" Laesonar moved and turned back. Still a little confused, Armin smiled, then joined him on the way home. Full build ---> Next Episode -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hello everyone ^^ I guess I went a bit ambitious here, as I wanted to portrait a very particular moment and I'm afraid one cannot quite get what's going on, unless they read the story.. Oh well, I wanted to build this for aaages! Let the water finally flow back to Laelariel and Lake Laendir! One thing I do regret, is that I wanted that river to be much bigger, to be consistent with the Avalonian map.. unfortunately that's the extent of my trans-clear 1x1 round as well as 1x2 plates.. I also wanted to try out this type of palette, which I initially chosed because I wanted to use light yellow in the river bed to simulate a sand - turned out, it didn't look that good on RB, so I took it off Finally, I wanted to try my hand for the first time at a snotted base, mixed with stud-up plates, on the right hand side - I'm kind of pleased with how it turned out, though I've got a long way to go. As for photography... oh well... No seriously, this is the first attempt at following @Basiliscus's advice, who is patiently baby-sitting me (luv ya mate!) - I started with lowering the ISO and found out I need better lamps, which will hopefully come in January. So that's the best I could get for now and it's still grainy when zooming in as well as a bit blurred here and there... BUT I promise I'm working on it! Actually, just to try and prove this to @Henjin_Quilones and for everyone else to have a laugh and/or go for a facepalm, I've decided to include a pic (spoiler below) of my upside-down room during the pics-taking phase All C&C most welcome as usual - thanks for reading!

The Tales of Lady Gwenllian 0. Introduction 1. The arrival of Lady Gwenllian aboard the Cedar Serpent 2. Scouting a Site 3. Early Spring in Prenmôr 4a.(Prelude) Restoring the Shrine 4. The Fishery and Shrine at Prenmôr From her high rock outcropping, Lady Gwenllian had a good view of the coast and had watched throughout the spring as the villagers from Flewd had moved to their new home in Prenmôr. Now that it was early summer, Lady Gwenllian wanted to see how the villagers from Flewd were settling into their new life, and wanted to inspect the work that the elves and dwarves had completed on the shrine to Neptune. She and Lady Seren rode their horses the half mile or so to the rocky escarpment that defined the edge of the land, separating it from the beach. She found that the villagers had sailed their boats laden with their meager belongings down the coastline from Flewd, had assembled lean-tos for drying fish and set up a small net repair station on the beach. The dwarves and elves had done an excellent job on the statue to Neptune, which sat overlooking the sea and was already laden with offerings and gifts from the villagers. Lady Gwenllian smiled as she saw the villagers hard at work. Because most of the young men had been lost during the drow raids, the remaining elderly, women, children and the local village idiot all had jobs, from killing and gutting fish to shooing away the seagulls that inundated the fishery. The locals greeted Lady Gwenllian and Lady Seren warmly, happy to have a new home in a safer location. This is the original build that I had envisioned with the shrine that didn’t get completed in time. I think it was a little too ambitious. On the other hand, it’s nice to see the idea finally come to fruition.

They had set the table at the eastern side of the vast rotunda, near enough to an opening that they got plenty of light, but not so near that the wind would blow all their charts and maps away. Here they spent many hours each day, deliberating on designs and consulting the records they had dug out of what seemed to be a library, several floors below them. This tower was the largest in the complex, ancient beyond all reckoning, and yet largely unspoiled by the long northern winters and the harsh salt winds that blew off of the Bay of Storms, and so it had been selected as the center of their operations as they went about exploring the rest of the ruins and establishing facilities to house, feed, and outfit the new garrison. Makny and his cousin Kjell looked over the many parchments again as Kjell reported on the latest surveys. "We have taken full account of the lower districts along the water, but only a portion of the central ruins have been fully charted. Of the openings in the cliffs in the upper district, we have found many, but I will not yet say that all have been discovered, nor have we had men enough to spare to determine how these caves and tunnels connect." "Thank you cousin," Makny replied, "It seems that we will need to request further resources from your father. How has work progressed to clear the pass?" The entrance to the bay was a narrow track that wound through the rocky hills of the Burial Isle in the south. In many places it had been obstructed by landslides or washed away by long-gone rivers, so that it was difficult to follow on foot, and nearly impassable to a wagon and a team of oxen. Supplying the settlement had been difficult in the summer months, and with winter approaching it would be nearly impossible. "Work along the trail is slow," Kjell admitted tiredly, "It seems that the only travelers it has seen these past years have been game." Makny rubbed his eyes and bent closer to the maps, as if on their thousandth viewing they would reveal some new path into the cove that had yet gone unnoticed. Suddenly they heard footsteps and heated words from below, and Makny turned as several men reached the top of the stairs across the room. At the front came a rough looking man with an air of importance, followed closely by several of his guards, and trailed by one of Makny's hapless lieutenants. "Sir, I've told you, the commander is busy!" the lieutenant puffed. He had obviously been trying to stop the men for several floors now, to no avail. "And I've told you, your head of the household guard can make time for a Rigr who is here on the Jarl's business," the man snapped back. Makny waved the lieutenant off as the visitors swept onward, and mustered up the most hospitable tone he had at his disposal. "My lord Hammel, welcome. It is good of you to come visit us in our new quarters." "Enough of your jests," the man cut in sharply, "We are both busy men." Makny's face hardened. "Indeed we are. I see your guards have come with you to these chambers; am I to bear this as an insult or to take it as a threat?" Hammel advanced toward the table, though his men kept their distance. "You are to see my men as the warning that they are. Word moves quickly in the north. Whispers abound that the Stromvakt seek for themselves a mighty stronghold, a seat from which to carve out their own lands." Makny nearly snorted. "Surely a man of your position and esteem would not believe such idle gossip. We are here at the order of my uncle, the Lord of Førstlys. After the city nearly fell to Raavage's forces, he saw the need for a place that might keep his people safe in a time of even greater peril." "I would expect you to have a good story to justify your presence," Hammel retorted, "But your words do not hold weight. The guild is wary of your work here." by "You speak of the guild as though we are not a part of it. Have you forgotten already who broke the siege of Duergvenn and rescued you and your garrison? And which colors do you see behind you on that standard? This is my uncle's land. He may do with it as he sees fit, as is his right, as is the right of any lord in this guild, in order to keep it secure against those who would do him or his people harm." "Do not speak to me of Duergvenn as if it solidifies reputation," Hammel sneered, "No victory serves only one cause. Your loyalty has yet to be truly proven." "Is that why you are here, then? To test our loyalty by telling us to leave?" "No, young lordlings," he said derisively, "I am here to present you with a summons. Your loyalty will be tested far from here, along the banks of the Antler and the shores of the Winter Lakes. The remnants of the enemy have crept from the shadows and gathered in the heartland, and now they threaten the Capitol itself. In the aftermath of these wars Chorian cannot gather enough men from his lands alone, so each true guildsman is called to go and eradicate this menace once and for all. If you indeed fight for all of Mitgardia, you are to sail for Northridge in a fortnight." Hammel ended with a smug smile. "If that is the case, I look forward to riding with you once again." "Indeed," Hammel scoffed before he whirled and swept out of the room. Makny waited until the Rigr was gone, then turned back to his cousin. "That was a strange visit." "Yes," Kjell nodded slowly, "I would have expected my father to send word of these happenings himself. The guild might have sent out the call to arms, but we may only go at his command. Of course, that is if the Rigr even speaks the truth..." Makny came around the table and the two walked towards the edge of the high battlement. "I am loath to send you away while your help is so sorely needed here, but I feel that we need to know your father's will on this matter." Kjell nodded silently. Makny felt a strange anticipation rising within him, while out over the bay the first high clouds of the afternoon drove landward. I didn't have the time to finish this before the Challenge 1 deadline, so I guess it's going to be a freebuild. My first attempt at an all-Lego scene, I still need to work on my lighting. C&C welcome on everything!

While it was common for the families of Mitgardia to send their sons to the northern tribes after their twelfth summer, only the children of the Burial Isle were sent out regularly before they came of age to become accustomed to the wilds. Makny had learned from his father when he was only seven how to fish the streams, trap small animals, and build shelters and fires to keep him warm through the cold nights. One of his favorite things to do after a long autumn harvest and many days in the hustle and dust of the storehouses was to take his horse into the hills and be alone. Makny liked to make camp beneath one of the great black-barked trees that grew on the high hills, deep inland. They had broad branches that kept off much of the rain and snow, and were usually found near some of the strange ruins that dotted the Burial Isle. Makny enjoyed spending his evenings - after building his lean-to, unsaddling his horse, and lighting his fire - contemplating the ancient stone structures and the people who might have built them. I've been sitting on this, waiting for a sufficiently overcast day to photograph it and enough free time to post. C&C welcome as always!

In Kaliphlin, glass making is a significant industry and throughout Historica Barqan glass is a synonym for glass of the highest quality. The making of raw glass is concentrated to some larger furnaces, several of which exists in Barqa fueled by the intense flames of Black Oil and where tons of raw glass is produced. In small workshops such as this one, at lower temperatures the raw glass is then together with recycled glass used to produce the finished glass products. The ingredients of the Barqan glass are: Former - The major component of glass is silica. The best sand in Historica for this is sand from the Kaliphlin deserts, where the softer components of the sand has been ground down and blown away by the relentless winds over the wasteland only leaving the hard quartz. Flux - To lower the melting point of the silica to form glass, soda is added. The source of this is natron from the shores of the Lick of Salt river and the Salt Lake it feeds. Stabiliser - Glasses formed of silica and soda are naturally soluble, and require the addition of a stabiliser such as lime. While glass makers using beach sand get this for free through the calcareous particles in the beach sand (fragments of shells) mixed in the sand, in the best Barqan glass made from mature desert sand lime made from limestone needs to be added separately. Different crop for closeup. Built for the Kaliphlin at Work collab. Photography notes: Lit by 4 x LifeLites inside the furnace and one in the lantern, plus a LED panel behind the wall.

My fifth build for the Kaliphlin at Work collab, and the second part of my “From Field to Goblet” entry for the CCC. It was fun putting our flesh colored plates to use again here, as well as a few of our newly-acquired MDF plates. Wahall owns a prosperous goat farm that provides milk and meat for his family with any surplus easily sold in the markets. The dairy goats have their own stable and are milked daily. A stable boy helps make sure the stable is kept clean and plenty of fresh water and food are always available for the goats. More pictures on Brickbuilt. Thanks for looking, C&C welcome

Previously Laesonar's Saga Episode 8 - Laelariel City Hall A veil of sadness crossed Jeffrey's mind as he started to climb up the cobblestone while listening to Sir Humborth's words. "… and after hearing of the unfortunate disappearance of the Lord of Laelariel as well as his heirs, I was sent here from Albion to investigate the possibility of nominating a new Lord for these lands. I've just arrived with a small escort. Unfortunately, the place isn't exactly swarming with life.. " Armin nodded "I understand, Sir Humborth. Which is why you need the last Lord's will and testament and those other documents." Jeffrey pointed to the building above them "Here. This used to be our city hall. We used to have messengers, ravens, horses and so many documents that we had started the plan to build a library... " He sighed "Now there's only my office inside. Not that I've had much to write lately... but we kept the whole building in order as well as all of the documents. You might be able to find what you need here, my Lords." Armin smiled satisfied "Thank you for allowing us too, Mr. Von Jeff. My order is sworn to preserve the natural order of things and it seems to me that this city wasn't meant to end like this, so I'd like to investigate a bit." "It's my pleasure, master Paladin. We shall accept any sort of help that we're offered." "Very well then, first things first: history. Why does the city have an elvish name, for example. Laesonar, aren't you curious?" ….. "Laesonar?" The half-elf was nearby, but... "Ahem... Yes, yes, master Paladin, you lead the way." Full build --> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Here, guys & gals, bigger build, shorter episode ^^ I've started this build before reading the HSS rules, by which a City Hall isn't required for a Hamlet.. oh well, I guess it'll count later on then Overall, I'm pretty pleased with the result, though I'm afraid my horrible photography skills don't make it justice, especially the bigger roof.. I'm still messing up with the lighting and the editing, I've even forgot to crop it! I'm unsure of a few other things, yet my main focus here was the palette.. which I'm also still unsure about But I'll leave the C&C to you guys - thanks for looking! @mccoyed sorry about the central alignement again! I'm afraid I've come to like it.. @Basiliscus @TitusV More blue, as I promised Edit: next episode

My fourth build for the Kaliphlin at Work collab, as well as the first part of my entry into the “From Field to Goblet” category of the Colossal Castle Contest. I’ve had this waterfall sitting around for a while now, and this build provided a good excuse to finally put it to use. I tried to base the oasis off of some real-life pictures I found, with the medium dark flesh and green, but I’m not sure how well it translated to LEGO. I would love to hear your opinions! Wahall is a goat farmer, and one of his most important tasks is making sure his goats get enough water. He can frequently be found visiting the nearby oasis, both to water the goats and to fill up barrels of water to take back to the farm. More pictures on Brickbuilt. Comments and constructive criticism very welcome!

Inside the simple Temple of Mazadar a Warrior Priest addresses a group of potential converts to the cause. "Mazadar is pure goodness, the creator of all things right and true." Exclaimed the Priest of Mazadar. "Yet Mazadar is not alone in the Cosmos of Creation. At every turn Mazadar is opposed by the evil spirit of chaos and destruction. Seeking to cast down all that is good and replace it with evil, this destructive force seeks to confound Mazadar and goodness at every turn! Existing only to cause suffering and pain. Mazadar and the evil spirit have opposed each other since the dawn of creation and even now wage their battle over the souls of mortals. How can Mazadar ever hope to triumph against the equal and opposite evil spirit?" "Only by enlisting the figure upon the pedastal can Mazadar hope to win the Cosmic struggle and bring about a paradise in all realms and all lives. And that figure, is YOU. Only you can choose good over evil! Only you can make the difficult choices to do right in this life. Only you can help to build a paradise in all realms. Only you can tip the scales of good and evil. Your choices, your actions will make the difference in the Cosmic struggle. Mazadar needs you to choose good. Will you answer the call?" Meanwhile in the temple garden Muakhah fields the questions of two younger Khadirans. "When I get to paradise, will I see my grandma? ...and my cat?" Asked the short quiet girl. "Would it be paradise without them Mirah?" replied Muakhah. "So I will see them again?" The little girl persisted. "When we die Mirah, Mazadar judges our deeds, our intentions, our very soul. We either enter paradise or for want of a better word, hell. But fear not little one. Hell is temporary. There are no sins that could warrant eternal punishment! Every sinner will spend time in hell to account for their sins and recognise the consequences of their actions. It may take them a long time but eventually they will enter paradise, having atoned and understood their wrongs." "Does this mean that I might see someone evil in paradise? Like a Drow?" Asked the taller boy. "Why yes. You may even meet Revolword or Ravaage himself." "I don't want to meet Ravaage in paradise." Said the boy firmly. "Of course," said Muakhah gently. "But understand that the Ravaage you meet in paradise would not be the Ravaage who walked this earth. He would have paid the price for his crimes in hell, but not only that he would have come to understand and repent for them. The Ravaage you meet in paradise will be Ravaage as he could have been. Had he made the choice to do good and walk in the light." "Is this why we have to help the Nocturnans...even though they are evil?" The boy continued. "Look at the plant over by the gardener. See how it is not lush and green like this one to my left." The boy and girl nodded. "Is that plant evil?" "No!" laughed the children in unison. "This plant to my left is lush and green because this corner of the garden has good light, soil and warmth. The plant over there lacks these things and so its growth is more difficult. If both plants are to bloom then one of them needs help. Which one do you think?" "The one over there." said the girl. "And so it is with the Nocturnans. They are not evil. They simply come from a harsh land where it is not easy to do good. Where everything is a struggle. But with help they can walk in the light." "But some are evil?" The boy continued. "Some choose evil. But others do not. And do not forget that Kaliphlinites, Avalonians and Mitgardians may also choose evil. It is often the easier path. Doing the right thing is often the more difficult choice. Were it easy then there would be no evil." Additional Photos! I finished this build a little while ago and held off posting pictures because of the Sandstorm of freebuilds. As there seemed to be a lot of immersive shots I retweaked the posing a little to get immersive shots myself but it doesn't really work well as it wasn't designed for it. I know the story is pretty waffly but hopefully this is the beginning of an organisation that may grow to rival the knights of Aslan (fingers crossed) I feel that there is a curse going around the forum. When I set it up for photos it seemed that I had avoided light shining through cracks. But when the photos are on the comp there they are... Seems to be a common problm these days. I'm hoping that this is enough to count as a Temple for Khadira and also a freebuild for the great Guild of Kaliphlin! And yes...I'm still mixing all colors of minifigs...

This scene is my second entry into the Colossal Castle Contest XVI, for the Fantasy Siege Weapon category. I took inspiration for the landscape from the style of detailed model bases you often see for things like Lord of the Rings scenes. Mitgardian dwarves are masters of warfare, and their powerful ballistas are feared by all enemies. See more pictures on Brickbuilt. Once I figured out the ballistas, this scene came together quite quickly, and it was fun doing a larger landscape again. C&C welcome

TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER 0: Heading Home CHAPTER 1: Priestess of the Oasis CHAPTER 2 Memories Past The Maebad Alqamar, or the Temple of the Moon, was the largest building in Wahat Alqamar. It's great golden dome marked the center of the village and many came from far away to seek healing from the priestesses who worshipped here. The gift was found only here, in this remote part of the Siccus Badlands, and only among the girls. No boys were ever chosen, and of the girls no pattern was ever discerned as to who would receive it. Once a local girl experienced her first blood cycle, she was brought to the temple where a kahinat waha would oversee her care during the ritual. Once she was bathed and the rites were performed, the girl would be denied water for two days. Then, once her thirst had set in, the kahinat waha would place 20 closed vessels around the girl and she would have to choose the one which contained water. If she failed to sense water and chose an empty vessel, she would be allowed to drink and then she would be sent home, knowing that she was not chosen for the gift. If she correctly chose the vessel containing water, she would be allowed to drink, and the ritual would repeat. If the girl correctly chose the vessel containing water three times, she would be acknowledged as having the gift and become an initiate priestess. Nolana smiled as she remembered when she became an initiate under Ferenice. These were happy memories. She helped maintain the temple and assisted Ferenice in her healing duties. The power to heal flowed through water and each kahinat waha was capable of light healing through simply touching the injured or diseased person, as the body is made up of mostly water. For more serious injuries or illnesses, however, the person seeking healing would be immersed in the temple bath, to amplify the power of the gift. When not in use by the priestesses, the bath was available for the public to use to maintain cleanliness in the village, though many locals would bathe in it due to superstitious beliefs that somehow the temple bath was special and would help heal minor aches and pains. Shortly after Nolana became an acolyte, Ferenice's brother, Daegal, transferred back from the capital city of Petraea to serve as faris almaebad, or temple knight, under the venerable Captain Horace, in order to be close to his sister. The services of the kahinat waha of Wahat Alqamar were highly sought after by those in power in Petraea with priestesses having left the village to serve in the capital, and Petraea made sure to protect the source of the gift with the elite faris almaebad. Nolana smiled again. She and Daegal had immediately taken a liking to each other. There were no rules against the kahinat waha from having relationships, since the gift was never known to have faded from any priestess, even from those who married and had children. In fact, local customs particularly celebrated the descendants of priestesses who themselves became priestesses, believing these girls to be particularly blessed with gift. Even so, the village was a conservative place, and Nolana and Daegal had moved their budding romance slowly, much to Ferenice's impatience. During that time, Nolana was truly happy, serving under Ferenice as an acolyte priestess and being with Daegal every day. In the meantime, Nolana's younger sister, Soniya, the second of the three sisters, had failed to receive the gift. Soon after, however, Esther, the youngest sister received the gift and became an initiate priestess. Unfortunately for Nolana, it was right at that time when her happy life was torn apart. Raiders from Nocturnus had come into Kaliphlin looking for targets of opportunity and had found Wahat Alqamar. Though they were no match for the faris almaebad, Daegal was mortally wounded by a lucky strike. Ferenice and Nolana had tried desperately to save his life. Ferenice's screams, "Hold him still! Hold him still!" still haunted Nolana's nightmares. It was out of shear desperation that Ferenice, right then, did the unthinkable and used a rite she had learned from the Kitab Mamnue. The Forbidden Book. After the rite was complete, there was a pause, and Ferenice uttered the words that Nolana would never forget: "Something's not right." Fear became panic as they realized what was happening. Daegal was becoming...undead. Necromancy was the art of raising the dead as soulless abominations, golems of flesh and bone created to serve their masters every whim. What Ferenice and Nolana did was far worse. They had turned Daegal into an undead without first killing him. They had trapped his soul in an undying soulless body, a prisoner of his own flesh forever. Their panic was now full blown, and all Nolana could do was to help Ferenice carry her brother's body out of the temple. And they had been on the run and hiding ever since. It was night by the time Nolana and Korbin had made their way to the village. Nolana couldn't help but be drawn to the Maebad Alqamar. Captain Horace spotted her and immediately readied his scimitar. "You have a lot of nerve coming back here, heretic!" He shouted, preparing to strike her down. Nolana searched for words, any words, but could only stammer, "I...I...I...." "Stand down, Captain!" came from a voice inside the temple. It was Esther. Nolana felt her heart jump at the sight of her sister. "How dare you raise your scimitar at a kahinat waha!" Esther continued. Horace was silent. "Nolana," Esther said as she turned to her sister. "I need your help."

Of Dragons and Druids, Ch. 2: The Library of Druidham A freebuild for Avalonia Also a build showing part of the army of Druidham, fulfilling Task 1 for Avalonia "I know it is here somewhere," muttered Henjin Quilones as he reached towards the shelf from the narrow wrought-iron ladder. "We have The Book of the Invisible Sun, and it should be somewhere over here." "Try a bit to the right, Henjin," offered Gree helpfully. "Keep it down, Daddy," shushed Emmalie from where she stood near Thorra's chair. "Fangort is telling a story of the Enchanted Forest." "What happened next?" asked Thorra, listening intently to the Grent's story. "How did you escape?" "Well, you would not believe it, but a family of Werecoons came out of the hollow log and began to attack the lumberjacks!" said Fangort excitedly. "And then we came to live here, all of us." "Oooh! How exciting!" clapped Emmalie in delight. Meanwhile, Reyska was talking to Korra, the Kolgari elf who had joined the Druids when she and her twin sister had arrived at Druidham. Keryyna was now a dragonrider, but Korra was explaining to Reyska how the two of them planned to return to the Sunken City someday. "There are very few ways into the Sunken City, all of them guarded closely by the Kolgari. But it is worth the visit, let me tell you. You think the flora around here is vibrant? It is nothing compared to the hidden realm of the Kolgari." "So why did you leave?" asked Reyska. "It sounds lovely!" "Well, it's complicated, but to start..." Kaigar was talking to M'chungaji, the traveling human from Mwamba who had joined them on their journey, by the window. Afternoon light was shining brightly upon the texts upon the table in front of them. "Henjin thinks the lost shrine of the Druids has to be somewhere in this part of the Isles, but Galaria and the other riders say that they have seen no sign of it from the air," Kaigar was saying. "I think we need to go on foot." "Druids are probably better suited to finding the shrine than dragonriders, even if they are all elves," said M'chungaji. He was mistrustful of most elves, having had a bad experience in his youth on the streets of Bandari with a proud elf lord. "Then I suppose we had better arrange for some journeys to be made," responded Kaigar, pushing back his chair. "Let's get going." ________________________________ ................................................................ More pics: I know this is a bit unconventional for a Task 1 entry, but I first took pictures of some figs on a stand and then decided that it was not exciting enough. So I built the "army" of the Druids in a more natural setting. Part 2 of Task 1 will be to show the dragonriders in a room of their own, probably sans-dragons for space reasons. The original picture is here: From left to right we have Reyska, Thorra, Emmalie Quilones, M'chungaji, Henjin Quilones, Kaigar, Gree, Fangort, and Korra. They are the Druids of Druidham, Guardians of the Druidi Temple of Avalonia. C&C welcome. @Kai NRG, I tried to cover up the back, but in a few places light still shone through. Oh well! Maybe next time I'll get it perfect.

My third contribution to the Kaliphlin at Work collab, and also my first entry to this year’s CCC, for the Interior category. This build was both a joy and a pain to build. Some parts of it came together very quickly, while others – well, they came together less quickly. In the end though, I’m very happy with the result. Credit for the lion mosaic goes to @Basiliscus, I pretty much just copied his design from this magnificent build. While working in the gardens of Lord Farih’s estate, Nym heard that there was going to be a dance in the great hall. Being the curious and slightly mischievous Dwelf that he is, Nym decided it would be alright – yes, even a fine idea – to slip in and watch the dance for a while. After all, he was sure that Lord Farih had every intention of inviting him, but had just forgotten amidst all the numerous tasks that had to be done to plan a dance. And what a grand dance it was! The various noblemen and women wore their finest clothes and twirled gracefully around the hall. Nym was enjoying himself greatly when he noticed some fine chairs set by themselves under elaborate awnings. Curious as to why such grand seats would be left empty, Nym sat down on the right most chair and found it amazingly comfortable. He hardly had time to settle in before finding himself looking down the blade of a very sharp sword. Farih’s guards quickly made it clear to Nym that those chairs were not meant to be occupied by lowly gardeners, while his own charming demeanor quickly convinced the Sargent that he had no ill intentions – he was merely testing the seat’s cushions, to be sure they were proper for royalty. After assuring them he would do no further ‘testing’, they politely escorted him out of the hall. What an experience! More pictures: And just in case you were in doubt, there are people working here! Poor scribes never get a break... Lots more pictures on Brickbuilt! Thanks for looking, C&C welcome

This is my first entry into the Colossal Castle Contest XVI. If you haven't already seen it, you should really check it out. It runs through the end of December, and this model of mine is one of the prizes: The castle room interior category caught my eye this year, so I started off with that. After looking up some medieval kitchens I decided on including a series of stone arches connected by wooden rafters. The loosely connected floor tiles were inspired by Cesbrick, while Matthew Oh’s build gave me the idea of forced perspective stairs. I tried to pack in plenty of kitchen details, so be sure to check out all the images. Like most castles, Harburg has a large kitchen to produce the substantial amount of food required for the staff and castle inhabitants. Eryl and his mother, Lady Karin, visit the kitchen today to check on the preparations of a feast for some visiting dignitaries from throughout Mitgardia. While Karin is shown about by head cook Svein, Eryl takes a turn cranking the spit of meat over the fire and chats with one of the young kitchen apprentices who is about his own age. The warmth and cheerful bustle of the kitchen makes it one of Eryl’s favorite rooms in the castle. Additional pictures can be seen on Brickbuilt. Comments and criticism welcome