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Found 62 results

  1. The Chronicles of Hesperia Volume 1: The Sky Man Chapter 4: The Banishment of Galaria The Previous Chapters: Princess Galaria sat in the gardens of the palace of Istolia, awaiting her father. She knew he would be displeased by her actions, yet she could not, would not, apologize for doing what had been necessary to save not only Hesperia, her father's High Elven kingdom, but all of Historica. She had returned after travelling far and wide, having used information taken from her father's library to defeat the threat of the tyrannical Lord Raavage. She had been keeping company with humans, in particular the druid, Henjin Quilones, but also lords and ladies of many lands from all corners of Historica. This was behavior decidedly atypical for an elf of the blood, scandalous, even, and Galaria had been hesitant to return to her father's halls to receive what was certain to be a stern censure. She heard sounds from the hallway outside, and pricking up her keen elvish ears to listen, caught the full conversation between her brother, Fingalad, and her father, King Fingolë the Golden. "Father," began Fingalad. "Surely you have heard that Galaria has returned from cavorting about with half-bloods and humans?" "Yes, my son, I have. I was on my way to see her now, in fact. My ministers informed me that she is awaiting my presence in the gardens." "And what are you going to say to her, Father?" Fingalad said, a note of anger in his voice. "I will demand an accounting for her irregular and dishonorable behavior," replied the king with patience. "No, Father, you must punish her for her disobedience to your commands." "What command did she break, my son?" "She stole from your library, she used the eagle riders without permission, she acted in your name without consulting you, and above all, Father, she violated your express prohibition against getting involved with the human affairs of the outside world." "You speak wisely, my son, and yet..." "Yet nothing, Father. She has disrespected and dishonored you, our family, our people, and our land. She has taken up with humans, in particular that pseudo-druid and charlatan, Henjin Quilones, becoming inseparable from his side. I have even heard that she has fallen in love with him, and would mingle our high blood with his baseborn mud. Surely you cannot tolerate such an affront and insult to our kingdom, Father?" "I will speak to her, and shall keep my own counsel, yet you have given me much to think on, my son," said the king. "Now depart from us, and I will enter and speak to your sister alone." _________________________________________ "My daughter, what have you to say for yourself? Why do you bring yourself back here surrounded by such clouds of gossip and accusations of scandal?" "Scandal, Father?" asked Galaria, as though she had not overheard her father and brother speaking in the corridor. "Will you agree to renounce the disgusting human Henjin Quilones, never to see him again, to remain here in the palace of Istolia for the next century or two, never going out into the woods like a lowly wood elf, to serve your sister Falaria as her handmaid?" "Father, no!" "Then will you dishonor me and your whole kindred?" "No, Father, I helped to save our people, and all people of Historica, by stopping Raavage and bringing the High Ruler of Historica to the throne, joining as one with the many realms out there! I did nothing to dishonor our people or you!" "You disobeyed my commands and in so doing have dishonored me and your kindred. To atone for this, I ask you again: will you agree to renounce the disgusting human, Henjin..." "He is not disgusting, Father, and neither are most humans out there that I have met!" interrupted Galaria hotly. "So you do love him!" shouted the king accusingly. "I don...I...I...I said nothing like that, Father!" yelled Galaria, now angry past her ability to contain it. "But you do not deny it! You would mingle our pure blood with the corruption of humans!" "Father, please..." "No, Galaria, the time has come. Either accept the terms I have given you, or depart forever from this land, an exile from the Elves of Hesperia, banished until the end of time." "Father, don't..." "Choose." "If I must choose, Father, then I shall leave, and maybe someday you shall repent of your foolishness and allow me to come back. Until then, farewell. I shall take a ship from the harbor and my companions, including the 'disgusting' humans, and not come back." "You have chosen wrongly, Galaria, but you may have the ship. Do not count on my heart softening for you, however. Time only strengthens the resolve of a High Elf's oath." "Goodbye, then, Father." ____________________________________________________ ........................................................................................................ The latest installment of the Chronicles of Hesperia. Feel free to make any C&C, though, to be honest, the build came together in an hour or so, and is mostly just a filler build to move the story, so it does not do anything particularly nice or fancy. Better stuff is coming soon! Another chapter should be up later this week, since it has been built, photographed, and dismantled now for several months! It just needed this story to fill the gap first, and I have been concentrating on other builds.
  2. Historica United A story illustrated by builds, for Category C of Challenge V of Book II. Like most of the Category C entries, this is a picture- and story-heavy post, so it may take some time to get through. I hope it will be worth your while. Part I: In the Halls of Hesperia The story of the beginning of the end has been told elsewhere, in the tales of the build-bards of old, of intrigue, murder, magical items, quests, and alliances. Thus this is not the beginning of the end, but the beginning of the end of the end, if you follow. And the beginning of the end of the end begins in one of the furthest corners of Historica, in the far west of Avalonia, in one of the last remaining pockets of High Elves in the known world, the Kingdom of Hesperia. High Elves seldom get involved with the affairs of men, yet in times of the greatest peril they will venture forth with their glittering array of armor and gilded weapons. This is one of those times, with the threat of Raavage and his magically-unleashed threats of doom for all the living, and yet it is not so simple for the King of Hesperia, Fingolë the Golden. In his halls in his summer palace, at Istolia, he met with his trusted advisers, his two eldest children, Falaria and Fingalad. Suddenly, ignoring his guards, his youngest daughter, Galaria, and several others burst in. "Father," cried Galaria. "You must listen to me!" "And why should he listen to a child as rude as you?" retorted Falaria, speaking in place of her father, who sat on the throne glowering at his impetuous, almost wood-elf daughter. "Surely you have heard the message that Celdrian has brought?" said Galaria, gesturing to the blue-clad Eagle-Rider beside her. "Of course I have," spoke the king. "But neither he nor you were invited to this meeting, were you? And is that a human in my presence?" "Yes, Father, it is. This is Henjin Quilones, a knight of the Druidi Order, whom I found while on patrol in the forest. You also saw the fireball flying through the sky, did you not? That was his arrival, and the sign that the fulfillment of the prophecy is at hand. The true king of all Historica returns!" "Bah!" exclaimed the king. "A druid he may be, or perhaps not. I have no use for humans, nor dwarves, nor even lowly wood-elves. Begone from my presence! And think well before coming before me again uninvited, Galaria, my daughter." "May we have permission to search the library of the palace here, Father?" Galaria asked before leaving. "Search all you want, just do not disturb my councils again!" shouted Fingolë. __________________ "A charming fellow, your father," said Henjin when they were safely in the library. "Indeed," agreed Galaria. "I would like to say that he takes some getting used to, but even after four hundred years I am still not used to his arrogance and pride. He is obsessed with the proper place of the High Elves, and as the years go by he thinks less and less about what is good and true and beautiful in the universe, still less about the fate of Historica." "Are you sure this is the proper section of the library, Galaria?" asked Henjin. "These stacks are palatial; I have never seen such books and scrolls in my life." "Well, whatever else can be said of my father, he takes it very seriously to have a record of every book, parchment, decree, spell, recipe, or anything else ever written in the four lands, and beyond, in his libraries. There are plenty of maps here, but which is the correct one?" "We need something referring to a helm, the Necromancer's Helm," chimed in Celdrian, the messenger, who had joined them in their search. "I thought there was just a battle over helms a few years back," said Yavenna, Galaria's most-trusted elf-scout. "That was the Elemental Helm, this is the Necromancer's Helm," corrected Galaria. "Very different, though both helms." A shout came from the balcony level and the others saw Henjin waving a tattered scrap of parchment over the railing. "I have found it! This scrap tells of the location of the Necromancer's Helm!" "Quickly, then, let us compare it to the maps and mark the place where the Helm may be found," said Galaria. "Then what?" asked Yavenna. "What do we do when we know where the Helm is?" The group fell silent. They had not thought that far ahead. Henjin joined them below and they stood around the table in the library, pondering. "We need some way of neutralizing the magic of the Helm, I think; something to control the arcane flows that radiate out from a magical artefact like that." Celdrian looked up at the druid in surprise. "Did you say 'arcane flows'?" This time it was Henjin's turn to look surprised. "Yes, I did. Why?" Celdrian smiled. "I know just the people who specialize in the regulation of arcane matters, on a very practical and technical level. Make a copy of the map and everything we know about the Helm, and I will bring it to Zotharith and Onicimus; they will know what to do." "We also need to have the armies of the various guilds ready to fight, in a unified front against our different, and yet united, enemies," said Galaria. "I will bring letters to leading men in the guilds, telling them where to bring their troops and when, while I am on my way to deliver the map to Zotharith," said Celdrian. "Aeriglaaac flies faster than the wind, so we can have it done in no time." "When you are done, return here and collect us," added Galaria. "We still need to make sure the True King can retake his throne." Part II: Heroes Assemble And so Celdrian mounted on Aeriglaaac the Great Eagle and visited the four guilds, bringing messages to leaders far and wide. As he flew eastward over the forests and plains of Avalonia, he stopped in Eolas first, to deliver the message to the Maestro: Soon he met deGothia in the halls of Sionnach: Then he flew north across the mountains of Mitgardia and visited Fin of Terydian on the edges of the tundra: Sir Glorfindel was next, near the gates of Nordheim: Then the mighty eagle flew on the back of the North Wind, faster than the currents of aether, and was soon in the lands of the south, in the Guild of Kaliphlin, where he stopped in Barqa to meet the half-elf Lord Gideon: Katoren was next, with the Lord Aymeri greeting him by the gate: Finally he flew further east to Nocturnus, and visited Lord Vladivus at Shadowmere: A stop in the lowlands near the Reach allowed him to visit Gal-Turok, Leader of the Goblin Clans: After many miles, though only a few hours aloft, Celdrian and Aeriglaaac circled down over Zotharith. Part III: Zotharith Council Meeting In Zotharith, a council meeting was underway, with Exetrius standing in for his father, Onicimus, who was busy tinkering with his gadgets far beneath the city. That such an inexperienced and low-ranking member of the Order should be leading a meeting rankled some in attendance, but all held their tongues out of respect for their leader's wishes. Exetrius called them to order. "If we could find the Helm, my father thinks that we have both the manpower and the technical knowledge to disable the Helm and its magics," the white-haired mage said. "But what of Raavage?" said one of the others in attendance, General Zeruko Urima. "My armies are well-trained and well-equipped, but I am not sure they are ready to face the dreadful power that is Lord Raavage." "Even Raavage cannot defeat an entire army of warrior-mages, General," replied Exetrius. "We will bring a combination of your warriors and some of our best mages, so that we shall not fail. We will also be provided with several of the arcane-regulation devices that link up to the core that my father has been building, which should, if the calculations are correct, neutralize the artefact entirely. If only we knew where it was!" At that moment, Celdrian knocked at the door and entered. "I think I can help you there, young Exetrius," said the elf-messenger. "My friends have pored over the extensive libraries of Hesperia and discovered the location of the Helm you seek. They have included instructions in that letter, and marked the place here on the map in red." "Thank you, Celdrian, and may the wind be ever under Aeriglaaac's wings." "May your mana never run short," said the elf as he bowed out. "We start tonight!" cried Exetrius after the elf had left. "We cannot afford to waste even one day in this quest, since Raavage has already had several days' head start. Let us go!" Part IV: The Great Battle of Historica While the Zotharians were travelling to the location deep beneath the Rakath Mountains that held the Necromancer's Helm, the armies of Historica were on the march, too. From every guild, from every race and people, the armies came forth. The enemies of the guilds also marched forth, drawn by the reports of spies that the guilds were gathering. And so the battles were fought between the armies of the four guilds and their deepest enemies, enemies united behind the banner of the Black Spire. The Battle of the Moruth Highlands In Nocturnus, Gal-Turok led his goblin armies in the charge in the Battle of the Moruth Highlands, joined by the armies of Anfauglir, Lord Vladivus, Anzar the Dragon Master, and Lord Jorrith, among others. The press of black horses against the charging Uruks of the Hand of Corruption carried the day, despite the chanting of witches giving the Uruks strength. The charge was glorious and valiant, and the army of the Resistance won the battle, scattering the remaining Uruks in every direction, to be picked off one by one. The Battle of the Shifting Oasis In Kaliphlin, it was the Barqan fire that won the day, burning through the armor and flesh of the High Council troops who had joined with the Spire. Not all had, and many within Kaliphlin chose not to fight at all, as the scars of the civil war were still too fresh; but those patriots who desired peace and the return of the True King to Cedrica bared their blades and fought with those who wished for dissension. In the shifting sand dunes outside of the famed Shifting Oasis, the two armies met, and the High Council soldiers, and the occasional orc, were routed. Led by soldiers of the Desert King, Barqa, Katoren, and Khadira, the armies loyal to the cause of the True King rode off victorious. The Battle of Crystal Tarn In Mitgardia, the Algus were stopped once and for all at the Battle of Crystal Tarn, when the Mitgardian men, led by Sir Glorfindel, Lord Fin, Sir Gunman, and Davok Shieldbasher, among other great northern heroes, and an army of dwarves met the onrush of the mysterious ice-people. Despite the blasts of cold and ice launched by the sorceresses of the Algus, the Mitgardians stood strong with their dragon-forged steel and destroyed their enemies. The Battle of Green Leaf Pass In Avalonia, the Drow armies were annihilated at the Battle of Green Leaf Pass, with not a twisted dark elf left alive. The Flight of Dragons, led by Lords de Gothia and Alric Drondil, together with the Maestro and Brandon Stark, some elves, forest men, and one strange half-elf, charged up the pass and broke through the Drow lines, and Laesonar did the rest with a few well-placed leaps and swings of his katanas. The back of the Drow army was broken, and it would be years before they could muster another army and pose a threat to anyone. All of the free peoples of Historica were participants in the Great Battle for Historica, fought on many different fields but all joined together in one spirit. Part V: The Chamber of the Necromancer Meanwhile, beneath the Rakath Mountains, Lord Raavage finally reached the crypt that held the Necromancers helm. The only problem was that instead of one helm, there were eight. "Which one is the Helm I seek?" Raavage muttered. "Which one is it?" He reached out to first one, then another. Each felt distinctly magical, but he could not tell which was which. Behind him he heard a noise, which caused him to turn around to see who had made it past his guards. It was those infernal Zotharians, the mages who refused to join him despite his many threats. No matter. They would be dealt with once he had the Helm. "Raavage!" the white-haired one in the front shouted at him across the chamber. "Step away from the Helms and we will not hurt you." "Ha!" snorted Raavage. "Hurt me? You? A half-grown, 39th-ranked mage? Did Zotharith have no one better to send? Did Daddy not want to come himself, so he sends his little runt in his place?" "I am not alone, Raavage, as you can see. I have behind me some much more powerful mages than I, and what is more, I have the knowledge of which Helm you seek, which, from the looks of it, you lack." Raavage growled. "How can you be so sure, Little Mage? Did Daddy tell you?" "No, an Avalonian druid and elf princess did, after studying the lore available in their library. It is really quite amazing what you can learn if you read, I hear. Not that you would ever bother with such mundane matters yourself, I am sure, being a big, tough beast like you are." "Grr! Which helm is it, Zotharian?" "The helm you seek will call out to you, if you listen. But be warned, Raavage, the lore says that if you choose the wrong Helm, it will destroy you utterly." "Are all of these fake, then?" growled Raavage. "Except the one real one?" "No, they are Helms of different powers, but they are not powers for the likes of you and me to tamper with." Raavage turned his back on Exetrius and felt along the alcoves with his magical intuition, seeking the call that the Zotharian had said he would feel. He was not sure why he felt that the mage was trustworthy, at least in this matter, since he seldom trusted anyone for anything, but he did. At last, feeling over the second-to-last helm, he felt a small tug. Nothing much, nothing he would have noticed if he were not on high alert, but it was there. He lifted down the helm and began to laugh. "The power is mine! After I don the Helm, I shall slay all of you and raise you back up, and you shall be my undead slaves!" He put on the helm, still laughing. But his laughter soon turned to a scream, as the powers of the helm he had donned began to age him and rip apart the fiber of his being. His fur turned grey, and then white, and then all his flesh wasted away until he had nothing but a skeleton remaining. The body of Lord Raavage fell to the ground, lifeless, his soul sucked from him by the Helm he had chosen. Even the bones vanished, leaving nothing but the Helm and the armor of the once-mighty lord. Exetrius and two of his companions came forward, carrying arcane devices. "It worked, just like you said it would," one said. "All we had to do was use the device you are holding to alter the flow from that helm just enough to make him choose it," Exetrius said. "It was rather simple after all." "What does the other device do?" said the other. "That will close up this cavern and lock it into another dimension, inaccessible to Historicans again. Let's get out of here and activate the device. Raavage is defeated." Part VI: The Throneroom of Cedrica "Are you sure the King is in here?" asked Henjin as they stood outside the door. It had been recently repaired, it seemed, and the mortar was barely set around the new hinges. There had been no king in these halls for years, and some work had been necessary to get things back in order. "Yes," said Celdrian. "The King is in here, as everyone has told us." "Very well, let us enter." To Henjin's surprise, however, it was not a King who sat upon the golden throne, but a Queen. A young, very beautiful queen. "Welcome, my friends," the Queen said in a gentle, mellifluous voice. She stood up and came forward to greet them, and they bowed before her. Henjin proffered his sword to her, and she accepted it kindly. "Your sword, Knight Henjin Quilones, of the Druidi Order, I accept and return to you. Bear it well, for me, Ylspeth, your queen, and may you always fight for the cause of truth, justice, and right." "I shall, my queen, Your Highness." "You have done me great favor by bearing tidings to my people, allowing our armies to overcome on the field of battle, and our mages to overcome in the realm of the arcane," continued the Queen. "I shall bestow upon you whatsoever you wish to show my gratitude." "I wish nothing, my Liege, save to be counted among those loyal to you," said Henjin. "That, and I would like to know how you came to be on the throne, alive, when all the rest of your family is dead." Queen Ylspeth laughed, and it sounded like clear water flowing over rocks, like the the honeyed song of birds. "I shall tell you, then, Druid Henjin, but not here. I am parched, and the wine here has been awful without the proper government in place. Do you know the Grand Griffon Tavern? The proprietor, Master Gabbold, is an old friend of mine, and he keeps all the best in his cellars. Let us go thither and talk over some drinks." "Do you mind if I bring a few friends?" asked Henjin. "Not at all! The more the merrier!" Part VII: At the Grand Griffon Tavern "When Henjin said a few friends, I assumed he meant a few friends," said Queen Ylspeth to Princess Galaria as they were pressed by the bodies of many sweaty warriors fresh from battle. "Well, he has made connection with many folk from the different parts of the kingdom, so getting to know them all will be helpful for you," said Galaria. "In fact, Your Highness, in this room are many of the most important figures in your kingdom, all eager to hear your tale." A voice somewhere in the room shouted, "Three cheers for Queen Ylspeth!" A loud cheer erupted from many voices. Then the room grew silent. "Thank you all for joining us here. Master Gabbold will be happy to serve you whatever beverage you like, and the tab is on me, so do not stint yourself. Aymeri, I see you drinking tea, you can get something stronger if you like. Lord Vlad, O-positive? Good. Many of you are wondering just how I came to be here. My father, the late king, was killed by Raavage soon after Revolword was deposed; the rescue party came too late. I, either by good fortune or bad, was away from Cedrica at the time; indeed, I was away from Historica at the time. I was aboard one of my father's ships, sailing from distant land to distant land, exploring the different islands, meeting new peoples. I hope that all of you have a chance to do so someday, as the world is so much larger than you think. It was my father who sent me, perhaps realizing the danger the kingdom was about to face, on my sixteenth birthday off to sea. One day, on an island far, far from here, away off west, I came across news of my father's murder. I wondered about the fate of my brother, fearing the worst, and the worst was confirmed at another stop. My mother, too, was cruelly butchered at the hands of Raavage. Knowing that I was not prepared to rule, and that to come back then would be suicide, I stayed at a western island, training with an order of warrior monks. They taught me their wisdom, gave me access to their library, and trained me in their manner of combat. When I was judged to be proficient, nay, a master of both wisdom and war, I came back. It seems I was just in time to inspire the last forces of good to make a stand, and to do so with success. My eternal thanks to you, my brave warriors, for all you have done. I am forever in your debt." When the queen had finished, those in attendance gave another loud cheer and called for another round. Lord Gideon, who had arrived late after grooming his horse, got his drink. And as the talk went on, Laesonar, who had never moved far from the queen, finally managed to strike up a conversation with her. "So, Queen Ylspeth, are you seeing anyone?" "Not currently, no," she replied. "But surely you will need heirs to the throne, right?" the half-elf persisted, putting out the vibe. "I suppose so, yes, but I have not yet met the right man." "You have met me, now," he said with a cheeky grin and a wink. "I am sure I shall have hordes of suitors lining up. Perhaps I shall hold a joust of some kind, or a contest, to winnow down the candidates?" The end. ________________________________ ................................................................ Wow, so if you read the whole thing, good for you, and thank you! I hope you appreciated it and enjoyed it. More pictures can be found on my Flickr page, especially of the battles. C&C is of course welcome. I tried my best, with the parts I had, to make as many sigfigs as I could, but I know that I missed many, many figs of some really excellent builders. Please take no offense at any omissions, as I assure you that no one was left out on purpose. I for one am glad this contest is over now, and I can go back to regular, leisurely building. And spending time with my family! If this wins, by the way, Queen Ylspeth can be made easily with either Rey's face (from Star Wars: TFA, for fleshies) or Wyldstyle's face (from The LEGO Movie, for yellows) with Barbara Gordon's hair from The LEGO Batman Movie. I tried to pick elements that are currently available from relatively cheap sets (the hair is found in a CMF, for example,and Rey's speeder was only $20US) that will continue to be available (with more SW and another TLM in the works) for a while, while still being distinctive.
  3. Book 2 Chalenge V Entry

    Category C It was a splendid day in the kingdom of Historica. All the guildmasters as well as the king of all Historica, whom had been unseen by many until this day, were gathered for the Tournament Of Kings, which would decide the next king of Historica after the soon passing of the current king. The guildmasters had chosen their champions to fight for the title of king of all Historica and were ready to begin the battles. Elon Chorian- Ahhh it has been so long since we have all been together without fighting amongst each other. Lord Artorious- Yes old friend not since we banded together to fight Algus, and even then we still had our constant bickering. Dextrus Flagg- I agree but this peacefulness among us is quite sple… Lord Raavage- Speak for yourself fool. This peacefulness makes my body ache. I would rather be watching the battles and the blood and death.You are lucky I have decided to cooperate insted of taking the throne by force. Don't test my patience though, I'm still considering that idea. I have my men outside the stadium as we speak so tread lightly. Artorious- Oh Raavage you haven’t changed a bit!! Dextrus and Elon chuckle and Raavage gives a growl. *The King enters* Dextrus- Ah your majesty, shall you start the battles? King- Of course we shall, who shall fight first? Raavage- I Lord Raavag, the ruler of the black spire and Nocturnus, would like to present the power of one of my warriors. Artorious- As do I my lord. King- So it is settled Nocturnus against Avalonia in the first battle of the day! ____________________________________________________________________________ __ *Cheering and shouting among the crowd breaks out as they see Avalonia and Nocturnus’s gate opens allowing their fighters to step out* Raavage- This is where the fun begins. You will see Artorious, the power of Nocturnus. Artorious- I hope so old friend. Or else it would be such a bore now wouldn’t it. Raavage-Watch your tounge boy before I cut it off! *The the Avalonian warrior comes out from his gate and the Avolonians give a cheer* Artorious- avast Redirst show this Nocturnian your power! *The warrior lifts his sword in reply and the crowd screams louder* Raavage*to himself*- Where is Nioxo he is supposed to be fighting! Artorious- What is the matter Raavage? Did your Nioxo get scared off by the pure might of his opponent. *Suddenly the crowd falls silent as they see the severed head of an ogre roll out from the Nocturnus gate* Raavage*in outrage*- WHAT!!! You cheat you killed Nioxo so your fighter can get the win!!! I will see you killed by my hand you filthy cheat!!! Artorious*in shock* W-w-what?? Raavage I did no such thing. I have been up here with you the whole time remember?? Raavage- Liar!!! You killed Ni… *Just then a figure steps out from the Nocturnus gate. He is covered in all black and a purple aura radiates from his body* Raavage-You killed my Nioxo you will die!! Artorious- Don’t worry Raavage. Redirst, destroy this disruption of the battle!!! *Redirst charges at the man sword in hand and in a flash he is stopped in his tracks.The crowd stares in horror as they look upon the battlefield. The cloaked man had thrusted his hand through Redirst’s body and taken his life force from inside of him. The man pulled his hand from Redirst’s body, Redirst’s life force in hand. Then with a sudden movement crushed it in his hand. A scream left Redirst’s mouth and his body was engulfed by darkness and disappeared.* Raavage- W-w-what is he…. ____________________________________________________________________________ __ *The cloaked man removes his hood to reveal his identity which is still unknown to the crowd except to one man* King-Thradak… Thradak- Yes it is I, I have grown since the last time you saw me haven’t I sir. King- I thought that… Thradak- I was killed? No no. You see father… *The crowd gasps* Thradak*continues*- That night when the Hand attacked forcing you to leave me alone as a baby in the castle, a female orc came across me. She was a soft hearted woman and she took me and raised me as her own. I lived with a tribe of orcs on an island off the coast of Nocturnus and that is where I remained the majority of my years. On my 18th Birthday I left home and set out on my quest for power and to have revenge on you for abandoning me.One day on my travels I came across a cave and inside the cave was a tomb. I opened the tomb to find a skeleton with a locket in the shape of an eye around its neck. I felt a strange sensation pulling me towards it and I reached out and touched it.The eye opened and I was instantly encased in chaos. It covered me and changed me into what you see before me. Then I heard a voice, a female’s voice. She spoke to me in an almost enchanting tune. She told me she was “The Mother”, she told me she would give me the power I needed to obtain my revenge but in return I must awaken her from her slumber. Now alas that is my tale and that is as much as I am willing to tell as of now. It is time at last to do what i have wanted to do for 17 years. *He draws a massive sword glowing in a dark aura from the folds of his cloak and aims it at the King* Royal Guard- Protect the Ki..!! *In a flash a bolt of black and purple magic shoots from the tip of the blade and strikes the king in the heart. The king clenches at his heart as the chaos spreads through his body taking the color from the king’s body and constricting him but not enough to kill him.* Thadrak- What I came to do is done, for I am now ruler of all Historica and this is just the beginning. Just wait once you see what I have you will all tremble in fear. Even you, guildmasters… I tell you this, in order to awaken the mother I must create 5 lords of chaos and for each lord, a monster of chaos of their choice. After all 5 are awakened the portal to unleash The Mother opens and she is set free. I will select the 5 Lords one from each realm of Historica at random and one from a land a sea away from Historica. I will unleash one at a time and if your 4 best champions manage to defeat all of my lords then I shall allow them to have the way to challenge me but be warned I am 50x stronger than the final chaos lord. With that I bid you all farewell and good luck, you will need it. *With that wings of bone emerge from underneath his cloak and expand and he flies off. There is now much commotion and fear among the crowd and guild masters themselves. Raavage jumps from a top the colosseum down to the battle arena where the kings crown laid. He picks it up and he thinks to himself "If I can get close to this new threat, maybe I will be able to use his power to conquer Historica and when the time is right I will kill him myself and Nocturnus shall rule all of Historica!" To be continued…. ____________________________________________________________________________ __ What will be the fate of Historica? Will it fall under chaos or will the champions defeat Thadrak and his chaos lords? If this so happens to win category C I shall write the rest of the story and continue the next chapter as “The Rise of Chaos".
  4. The Chronicles of Hesperia Vol. 1: The Sky Man Ch. 2: The Crash Site The previous chapter: DISCLAIMER: For those of you who may be extreme GoH purists, the following build may be disturbing, as it does contain some Sci-Fi elements. To ease your concern, however, let me assure you that after this chapter those elements are gone and a pure medieval fantasy vibe is all that will remain. The unwholesome elements are my way of introducing a character that I had been using for many years in builds with friends, in a different galaxy, far, far away... [edit: Druidic magic is behind these events and causes the non-Historican elements of them to be erased from the memories of the participants after they happen, so do not be concerned that they will be entering into Historica on a full-time basis; such 'pollution' is not, and never was, my intention.] Galaria peeked through the trees and bushes at the sight before her. Her wolfsteed, Laika, she had left back in a small meadow with the wolfsteeds of her fellow Hesperian Wolf Rangers, so that they could approach closer without being seen. Some of her rangers climbed trees for a better vantage point on the smouldering mass in the clearing. The fireball had landed in the center of an ancient ring of druid standing stones, erected long years before the first elves had come this far west in the world. The druids themselves were gone for many centuries before Galaria's father, Fingolë the Golden, first established the kingdom of Hesperia, and that was an age ago in the land of sunset. The smoking hulk did not look like any meteorite that Galaria had ever seen before nor like any she had heard tell of; if she were not certain that it could not be true, she would have said that it looked like metal, a giant steel cylinder that fell from the sky. As she watched, a panel on the side opened, revealing a brief glimpse of the interior as a man stepped out. The man was clad in tan robes and wore a brown cloak over them, and carried in his hand a metal tube that vaguely resembled the hilt of a sword, though no blade was attached. His tousled, wavy brown hair framed a handsome face with a roguish grin. His eyes moved over the landscape swiftly and Galaria shrank back into the bushes instinctively. Soon the man was fully out of the sky-cylinder, and another, also clad in tan robes and brown cloak, carrying the same type of metal tube followed, and then came a small army of helmeted and armored figures carrying some sort of black thing in their hands, held almost like she had seen a crossbowman hold his weapon during a marksmanship contest two summers before. Weapons of some sort. With the exception of two of them, the armored figures were clad in greens and browns, camouflaged for thick forests. They quickly made a defensive perimeter around the sky-cylinder. The two cloaked figures examined one of the druid columns, together with one of the white-and-green clad figures. Galaria could hear their voices talking in a strange tongue, one not spoken in Historica, at least not by elves, dwarves, men, orcs, drow, or any of the tribes of Nocturnus that she knew of. The other white-and-green figure came over, and both armored ones took off their helmets, revealing a brown-haired man and a golden-haired woman. The woman clearly thought that they ought to move away from the crash site, by her hand gestures, and followed that up by stepping past the Druid column. To Galaria's amazement, her clothing and gear changed the instant she passed the standing stone, looking like a typical human warrior woman with a bow and quiver. The armored man, amazement on his face, also stepped past and underwent a similar transformation. "That was incredible," the man said in perfect Hesperian Elvish. "I cannot believe what just happened, Thorra; can you?" "No, Gree, I cannot," replied the woman in equally excellent Hesperian. "Henjin, Bu'kanjin, you two step across now and see what happens." The robed-and-cloaked men also stepped through and were transformed, the one called Henjin now wearing ancient druidic armor and Bu'kanjin wearing a different style of the same. The others wearing armor gathered around the edge of the stones and began to take off their helmets, revealing more men, of colors more familiar to Kaliphlin traders than Avalonian forestmen. Suddenly one of Galaria's Rangers, Ankeria, stood up and drew back her bow, letting an arrow fly. In the blink of the same moment, the man called Henjin caught the arrow that was aimed for his heart in his hand and Bu'kanjin fired an arrow of his own, piercing Ankeria in the neck and killing her instantly. The humans were on high alert with arrows nocked on taut bowstrings, with more of them stepping across the stones and transforming all the time. Galaria's small band was vastly outnumbered and, by the signs of it, outmatched in skill. She stepped out from behind the foliage she was using as cover, right in front of the Henjin, the Sky-Man, and said, "Put down your weapons, we mean you no harm." Henjin smiled at her and she felt her fate entwine with his as his voice spoke to her. "Greetings, we are strangers here in this land. My name is Henjin Quilones, son of Henjin Quilones, and this is my brother, Bu'kanjin. We have journeyed far across the heavens, called here to this land by the Force." Galaria nodded. "And I am Galaria, daughter of Fingolë the Golden, the king of Hesperia. If you have been called here, it was not by us, but perhaps by the power of the druids in whose circle of stones you landed and whose armor you bear. There is an ancient prophecy that said that the true king of Historica, the great and vast land of which Hesperia is but a tiny part, would arise, after a star fell from the heavens, to battle and defeat the dark scourge of the land. Are you he?" asked the elf maiden. Henjin shook his head. "No, I know nothing of your prophecies, and I am no king. A humble Knight am I, not yet even a Master. But I shall gladly join you and your father the king in the battle against that dark scourge. My sword and bow are at your disposal." "And mine," said Bu'kanjin. "Thank you both," said Galaria. "Now, you had better follow me away from the stone ring, called Stangraf by the Druids, O Knights of Stangraf, before any orc or drow patrols come and investigate. I shall take you to Istolia, the city where my cousin governs." "Very well," said Henjin Quilones, the newly dubbed Knight of Stangraf, and he and his companions followed the fair elf maiden into the eaves of the forest. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ................................................................................................................................................................................................................ Thanks for looking and reading! It has been a long time since my last Hesperian build, but much has happened between then and now (moving twice, starting a new job, etc.) so it is good to be back building in the Guilds again, C&C welcome!
  5. Previously in the story: Bull's Eye (Prelude) This still takes place long before Raavage Davok: "We gathered our forces rather quick, and then marched for Falconstone. The supply train would arrive later, 'cause I wanted my vanguard to move freely.". "We were only halfway through the Frozen River fords, when some riders blocked our path." Unpleasant encounter (1) by David de Rijke, on Flickr "Three riders from unknown origin where standing in the river. One of them was their leader, obviously. He seemed to be some sort of wizard scum, given his hat and his staff from which icy sparks were coming. Never liked this kind.. The worst part, was their faces. They did not seem to have any..." "The wizard could speak, however. Immediatly when we saw these fellows, I raised my shield and took a defensive position. I saw my men do the same while my chieftains looked at me what to do. But the wizard told us about that messenger I spoke at the Bull's Eye. He said they were sent to help us. They lowered their weapons to prove it. I started to get an uneasy feeling about this whole mission. Who was our client, and why did he venture with wizards of this kind? Might he be some sort of wizard himself? And WHO is this stranger, if his value is so big these... powers... are sent in to deal with it?"
  6. Somewhere among the shores of Avalonia... A rider sent from General Aeldric of Vanhorn races the soldiers of The Spire to send word to Albion and the surrounding reaches word of the True King's return, the True Heir to Cedrica! The Orcs of the coastal regions have always bore crude weapons and armor. Not nearly on level of that of Soldiers directly from The Spire. The rider must be diligent, swift, and unrelenting on his horse, for the forces of Ravaage do not falter. (Welp, this is my Category A (Riders of Historica) Entry! It's Alliance side. CC Welcome!)
  7. AoM: Gate phase 3

    My phase 3 for the Gate category of AoM. I hope this is sufficient for the title :D I had fun making this, because I did not plan anything, and just looked how it would turn out. The building has some interiors, but the bad part of not planning, is that I couldn't really make pictures of the inside :P Im quite happy with how it turned out, especially with the stonework. I need to work on the roofing though, yet thanks for the guide SK :P I spent most of my salary on lego this month, but maybe I should go for a suitable camera one time. One way, I feel the money used for a camera could have been spent for bricks, but the pictures will probably improve a lot :) Usually I edit the photos with photoshop, but due to me quitting my studies, I do not have the license to use it anymore. Im starting an IT study this year, so I might get the licenses at discount :D Gatehouse phase 3, AoM by David de Rijke, on Flickr
  8. The Black Rat Inn

    Across Avalonia, disagreements are traditionally solved in duels if words do not prove enough. In Mitgardia, the equivalent is usually drinking contests, and in Kaliphlin they often use the strategic board game Jeddar to settle disputes. However, in the wild lands of Nocturnus, it is not uncommon to see arguments solved the old fashioned way. No finesse, no wit, and certainly no rules are involved; in Nocturnus, they prefer to brawl. Of course, brawling is more than just a way to settle arguments nowadays. In fact, many consider it a sport (of course, many innkeepers who have to break up the brawls would argue otherwise). Drunken or otherwise, brawling is a part of Nocturnian life in many areas. In Rockwail, they do it differently. Across the sprawling city exist several buildings marked with red rings above the doors, telling those in the know that the building is home to silent brawlers. One such building is the Black Rat Inn. Silent brawlers do it differently to most- instead of stopping when the opponent submits, the fight stops and the winner is decided when someone makes a noise. Most claim to fight for pride and glory, but it does help that winning a silent brawl can yield a good deal of prize money. Red ringed buildings- usually taverns- also feel the benefits of hosting the brawls, as many customers flock to watch and bet on the fights; and, of course, drink. Two fighters stood on a raised wooden section of floor by the bar. One was a snarling red orc with tied back hair and fists wrapped in bloodied rags. He was huge by human standards (though terribly average amongst orcs), and covered in muscle. Broader than the door to the inn, his opponent wondered how he even got into the place. The red skin on his bare chest seemed to be scarred and mottled, in some places discoloured, due to a skin condition. His opponent was a heavily tattooed Kaliphlinian man of medium height with wide shoulders and toned body. Though he looked strong, he was not nearly as fearsome as the orc. His hand wraps were crisp white- they had not yet seen a fight on that day, whereas the orc was on a long winning streak. "Go on," one of the onlookers hollered, "hit him!" "Alright, silence now!" yelled the barkeep, and quickly the audience's murmuring died down until the Black Rat was silent. "Begin!" The orc moved fast despite his size, but the man had been watching his previous fights and knew to expect it. Smoothly, the underdog feinted to the left then strafed to the right, avoiding the huge, scarlet fist of his opponent, then swiftly jabbed at his stomach with his fist. The orc smirked ravenously, and the underdog knew this would not be easy. He swung again, but all his fist hit was air as the Kaliphlinian ducked under his punch. The only way to beat someone bigger than you is to be faster, this the Kaliphlinian knew, but it was proving difficult to dodge the swinging hammer arms of the orc. As he swung again, he scraped the face of his opponent, who glided towards him and landed a strike on the orc's shoulder. Without so much as a grimace, the orc shrugged off the hit and used his newfound nearness to his adversary to his advantage, forcing his arms under the human's shoulders and clamping his hands onto his head, then lifting him from the ground. The Kaliphlinian winced, but knew better than to make a noise, and drew his legs upwards, then kicked back into the orcs knees. The titan's legs buckled and he fell backwards, releasing the human from his grasp. With a slam he hit the floor, and the Kaliphlinian grinned broadly. He raised his leg above the orc's head, preparing to stomp him, but the orc grabbed hold of his foot. The man kicked back against the crushing grip, hitting the orc in the face with his own hand. With a snarl, he then fell onto the bloody-faced orc, landing elbow-first onto his heaving, scarred ribcage, which let out a dreadful crack and caused the orc to grunt in pain. "That's a noise! The challenger has won," the barkeep announced, to the roaring cheers of many amongst the crowd.
  9. Under Rockwail

    Under Rockwail The mausoleum door swung open slowly, creaking on the rusted hinges. Keel entered the pitch-black room first, followed by Remington, who clutched his lute tightly. The mausoleum was impossibly dark, and the only thing the bard could see was what was illuminated by the streetlamp outside shining through the open doorway. Keel, however, had it easier; being an orc, could see clearly even in intense darkness, and he scanned the room quickly. The walls were covered with ancient dwarven rune writing and opposite the doorway were the ornately carved sarcophaguses of three dwarven warriors. Across the floor and the ceiling, intricate mosaics showed scenes of great battles, dwarven triumps over their enemies, and the construction of the original Rockwail walls. In the centre of the mausoleum was a spiral staircase that wound down into the catacombs below. Keel pulled his gemstone out of his pocket once again and passed it to Remington. "Take this. You may not be able to see, but this will show you the way; at least, it always has for me," the orc whispered. Remington felt the stone writhing and turning in his hand, tugging it forwards in the direction of the staircase. "Looks like it's already started working. It's a soulstone. It guides you to what you seek. It took me to Rockwail and it'll take you to whatever it is you're looking for in here," he explained. Remington let the stone pull him forwards, and slowly walked towards the staircase, then carefully down it, into the catacombs. Keel followed after him, and noted that the stonework as they descended into the tunnels gradually became rougher and less decorative. Instead of carvings in the walls, there were small alcoves to hold skulls, and the tombs were open and built into the walls. The one thing that remained consistent was the tiles on the floor, except now they were aged and cracked, and any mosaics were simplistic and unrefined. It was also considerably colder, and the walls were sleek with a damp slime. It was quickly becoming obvious that the catacombs were much larger than Keel had remembered. The hallways seemed to stretch on for miles in all directions, forming a web of bone and brick. In places, he could see rooms, presumably for the richer or more well-known of the dead. His nose twitched as he caught a chillingly familiar smell on the air. In spite of his dulled senses, Remington could smell the scent of death on the icy, stale air. It was strong and it was old and it was close. He shivered, but the soulstone tugged forwards, towards the smell. "You smell that?" Keel whispered. Slowly, Remington nodded. It was only then that the unearthly silence of the place became so obvious to Keel. "Let's get moving," he said finally. The bard nodded again, and started to walk blindly forwards, following the pull of the soulstone. The sound pair's footfalls rang out roll-call bells and echoed through the catacombs. For the first time in days, Remington could feel his heart moving in his chest- not beating; barely throbbing, but moving nonetheless. Keel's heartbeat was much more obvious, and to him it was almost deafening. In the darkness, they could hear faint creaking, but it was impossible to know it if was coffins opening or the very city above them coming to life. With every moment, Remington couldn't help but feel that there was something out there that he couldn't see watching his every move, always about to pounce but never really doing so. The pair drew into a small room. There were multiple tombs, and on one of the walls hung a shield and three swords. Quickly, Keel removed the largest one and weighed it up- it was surprisingly light, and the only damage to it was a few chips and a spot of rust on the crossguard. The creaking was much louder now, and Keel could make out something stirring in the corner of the room. A skeletal arm moved in one of the alcoves in the wall, grasping out for something, until it caught hold of the stone surface of the wall and dragged itself out. The skeleton wore a corroded helmet and brandished a battered scimitar. "Uuh, bard... You may need to defend yourself," Keel whispered, as he noticed another skeleton emerge from its tomb, dragging a shield and a flail with it. Remington shoved the soulstone into his pocket and held his lute by the top like a club. "Whose idea was it to bury them with their weapons?" the orc hissed quietly. The two skeletons approached, gradually building speed as they stumbled forwards. Keel decided it was best to strike while they were still slow and moved towards them, careful not to make too much noise as he did so. The first skeleton raised its sword above its head in preparation for a swing, but Keel intercepted and swung beneath its ribcage, collapsing its spine with a thunderous clatter. It fell to the ground as a pile of bones. Holding out his lute as a makeshift mace, Remington had began to spin around in circles, and as the second skeleton neared him, his lute found connection with the skull, knocking it clean off and sending it flying into a wall. Keel then finished it off with a kick to the pelvis, rendering the skeleton a pile, like its comrade. "Nice job, now let's keep-" Keel was interrupted by a series of deafening thuds, making their way closer and closer, until a huge mass of bones stood before the two. It seemed to be the skeleton of something that was once very big; a troll, or a werewolf, or something along those lines. Why it was there, they didn't know, but it was big and it looked angry. It held in one hand a sword the same size as the two men standing before it, and in the other a shield of equal stature. It raised its sword above its head and Keel prepared for a strike to the undead behemoth's pelvis. "Gertie, no! Stop that right now, young lady!" a woman's voice shouted angrily. The skeleton hesitated for a moment, then sullenly lowered its sword and looked to its feet. From behind Keel and Remington, a tall woman wearing red leather armour and carrying a longbow entered the room. She carried in her other hand a long pole with a lantern on the end, which illuminated room, momentarily blinding the two before they quickly adapted to the light. "That is no way to treat our guests, young lady," she scolded. Keel lowered his sword and looked the woman over. "Without being rude to the person that just saved our behinds, what's someone as young as you doing in the catacombs?" Keel questioned. Remington opened his mouth to speak, then internally cursed his predicament. He felt the soulstone in his pocket trying to pull him towards her. "Trust me, I'm not as young as I look, but it's always nice to get complimented. I'm The Weaver, and I look after these catacombs with Gertrude and the other skeletons. They can be very rude, though. I see you already dealt with them." "Ok, second question. What is Gertrude? Was she an ogre, or something? I've never seen anything like her." The Weaver smirked. "Close. She was a Mitgardian housewife. Now, I believe you and your companion here are looking for the Hall of Songs, yes?" she asked. Keel looked questioningly over to Remington. "We are?" Remington nodded enthusiastically. "Can't speak, huh? That'll explain it. Are you ready for the journey? It's not exactly easy." The bard stared at Keel pleadingly. "I guess I don't have anything else to do..." he sighed. "Right then," The Weaver said with a smile, "let's go." --- Extra Pictures Remington Rot is now one step closer to getting his voice back. For a change, my next moc won't be about Remington; instead it's going to expand on the city of Rockwail. C&C welcome, hope you enjoyed!
  10. The first part of the Elemendi Story: http://www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=121423&hl=elemendi As Kha opened the door to The Maritime Inn, he was assaulted by a myriad of senses. Foremost of course was the combination of odors of roasting pheasant, stale ale and unwashed bodies. He turned and looked back quickly at the sign just outside the Inn, it was a clever combination of a smiling sailor aboard a ship. With a chuckle at the at pun the innkeeper used to name his establishment located on the southern coast of Kaliphlin a days ride northwest of Ras-el-Ahken but not quite to Mypa Stedor, Kha continued through the door into The Maritime Inn, or The Merry-time Inn as many of the locals referred to it. The interior was dimly lit, and heavy with smoke from both the fire burning in the hearth as well as the many patrons and their various pipes. The smoky odor was riddled with different aromas hinting of spices and weeds from all over Historica, but all of them were strong enough to be noticed. He looked to the corner where he knew his contact would be waiting. The Inn itself was built with a tall ceiling nearing twenty feet, with windows all the way up that look out upon the Great Southern Ocean. In the distance out upon the sea, Kha could see the darkened clouds that made up the vortex of The Void Tide a few miles off the coast. There seemed to be nowhere in the place where space was not used for something. There were barrels of all sorts of sundries or potent drinks all over, shelves and crates of other goods. Even the air space was used up with strings of lights, supports that held up Kha knew not, and nets of other goods hanging above the patrons heads. But there, at a table in the corner, and facing the door to see Kha when he entered was Masa. Masa is another member of The Resistance here in Kaliphlin, and Kha’s co-conspirator in this current endeavor. Joining Masa at the table was what appeared to be a mercenary or some sort of adventurer that Kha did not know. “Masa, good to see you safe!” Kha said. “You as well Kha. May I introduce Jarrick of The Dragon’s Cape. He is the man I was telling you of that knows that which we seek.” Masa said with a sidelong glance to the closest table. It was a habit both Masa and Kha had seemed to fall into lately since the Desert King began hunting them both. “Hello Lord Kha of Ras...”Jarrick began. “Let’s skip the formalities and lower the volume.” Kha said and also looked around the gathering room. “I cannot afford to be known anywhere in Kaliphlin as it stands right now.” “Understood, well I suppose I should get right down to business then.” Jarrick took a drink from his glass, and Kha could smell the pungent odor of strong spirits as he tilted the glass. “I know what you seek, and what you need in order to supplant The Desert King. The are referred to as The Elemendi, and once were a common sight across all of Historica. They are race of beings with an affinity to the Five Elements.” “Five Elements?” Kha asked. “Last I knew there were four elements, and Revolword already tried to tap that power.” “Revolword was an amateur compared to the Elemendi. And yes, there are five elements. Earth or Stone, Fire, Water, Air and Life. Each of them has its own power, but when they work together, even more can be accomplished. Some of them can boost or assist the others. That is where the trouble started!” Jarrick paused again to take another drink. “Three thousand years ago, the Elemendi were all over Historica. They live for centuries and can tap these powers, but when they mate, it is for life and they never have more offspring than two. It was impossible, the mother would pass during the third pregnancy. I don’t know if it was some sort of divine limit placed upon them, or just the cost of the magic, but it was never recorded that three children were born from a coupling. As you can imagine, that power was craved by those in power. The elemendi themselves were never interested in politics, they seemed to garner a joy of life simply from helping. But, those in power always have resources, and those resources led to ways to control the elemendi. I don’t know the details, or how they did that, but that was when much of Historica was plunged into a dark time. Wars raged across the land and the elemendi were controlled by both sides.” Jarrick looked away as if seeing that faraway time himself. “The power of the elemendi was tremendous. The five elements each meant so much more than implied. Water, the ability to manipulate any liquid and control all of its properties. The ancients used it purify water and help with agriculture, but once the wars started, new uses were found. Freezing the blood of victims too weak to resist, creating great fountains of ice and water that were used as weapons and so on. Fire, the ability to manipulate heat and flame. Once used to provide heat and food to the masses, it was turned to a burning inferno of destruction and death. Air, once used to aid in transportation, was then turned to be a razor focused tempest of destruction. Earth was used to terraform and mine for needed items in colonies, became an earth shattering force of destruction. Once the warmongers took over, they soon learned the elemendi could also control metal and used that in so many destructive ways it couldn’t even be recorded well enough to lend merit. Finally, the Power of Life, used originally to grow plant life and heal, it was distorted to its opposite and used to snuff out life and harm rather than heal. “The cost of the magic and its destructive properties began to take a toll on the elemendi and they began to die off, unable to rebuild their population. They were lost to civilization, wounded and retreating to where they were believed to be extinct.” “But they are not, you are implying?” Kha asked. “No. They are still around, but in such small number and in such fear of abuse that they remain hidden. But, there is man who lives deep in the Rakath Mountains who has some elemendi under his control. He is known only as a collector. He has spent lifetimes collecting races from around the world, and he has some of them in his keep.” “How do you know?” “I have made contact with someone who has escaped from him. I was given first-hand account of what transpires there. He has rows and rows of cages and prisons full of creatures only known in imagination. What is worse, he is intelligent and creative. He has bred different races, just to see what it would beget. Some of them have been bred with the elemendi and have gained some sort of control over the elements. Not to the extent of a pure bred, but he has found a way to produce their magic to some degree without being limited to two births.” Kha exhaled and leaned back. Looking over at Masa to see if he believed this tale as well. “That is horrible and incredible at the same time,” Masa said. “If that is true, those poor souls lead a tortured life and need to be freed no matter what!” “And, they could be a great ally in our cause against the Desert King.” Kha added. “But, I agree. We need to help them out, and once free we need to share our plight. If they are sympathetic, we would welcome their help. But, we cannot force them.” Masa looked Kha straight in the eyes, and Kha could see the emotion there. He knew that his friend was as hard as steel, but could see the empathy for these poor souls. As he watched, Masa’s eyes darkened and they both turned to look back at Jarrick. “I am glad to hear that you both understand what is at stake.” With that, Jarrick tapped the floor four times with his boot. The front door of the Inn opened, and immediately everyone turned to see what had seemed to swallow the light. Kha was speechless as he saw what appeared to be at least a 10 foot tall cross between a man and an elephant enter the Inn. His girth was large enough to match his height as well, and he was heading directly toward Kha and Masa. They exchanged glances and began to set themselves for trouble. Jarrick, just chuckled and set down his drink. “This, gentleman is Bronos. He is the one I was telling you about. Bronos, introduce yourself.” “Hello gentlemen, my name is Bronos of the Mastadoni tribe. I assume that Jarrick has told you of my origins.” His voice was surprisingly gentle for a beast of his size, yet still sounded as if it were coming from down a hallway that amplified and deepened its tenor. “I was born from a Mastadoni in captivity with the collector. My mother was bred with a Water Elemendi and I am what resulted.” “Bronos….it is a pleasure to meet you! I think we may be able to help…”, Masa turned to Kha and saw the same look of awe on the face of his friend.
  11. Making Allies

    Since departing from Baron Lonnidas, night had fell, and Remington wandered through the lamplit streets almost aimlessly. "You can't miss it; they say all paths in Rockwail lead there." Remington was dubious as to wether Lonnidas's statement was true, as he had been walking for several hours and the only thing he'd found that even resembled the mausoleum was a small undertaker's shop, the owner of which was convinced that Remington must try out one of his coffins. He also noted another peculiar thing about Rockwail; while there were quite a few people out and about during the day, it was nowhere near the amount of people on the streets at night. It seemed the entire city was nocturnal- even cold-blooded creatures like snake and frog people. Somebody around must have known how to get to the mausoleum, but asking for directions was more than difficult with no voice... If he could curse under his breath, he would have. Eventually, the bard came to a cross in the roads. He looked down the pathways and saw that they all seemed to diverge out into more and more roads, all expanding outwards from his point. So where was the mausoleum? Suddenly, Remington was distracted by the sounds of a struggle, and peered down the unlit path where the noise came from. Out of the darkness ran a snakeman, clutching something in his hand. Under the light of the lamp beside him, Rot could make out that it was some sort of yellow gemstone. Then another figure burst out of the shadows, wearing a leather cuirass, and a large helmet. "Stop that man! My diamond!" cried the figure. Remington shrugged. What was the worst that could happen? As the snakeman passed him, he swung his loot into his nose, knocking him down onto the ground. The other figure caught up quickly and stumbled to a stop, panting heavily. Once he regained his composure, he picked up and pocketed the gemstone, then turned to Remington. "Good sir, that was a mighty swing for a bard! I do hope your lute is undamaged." He spoke loudly and with a regal accent. Remington looked over his lute and ran his gloved fingers across it. Other than a small blood stain, it seemed to be ok. He raised his thumb to the man. "Excellent! That is good news. My name is Sir... Sir Knight... Ahem, Sir Knightington!" The bard raised an eyebrow. "Sir... Crownknight?" "Fine," he sighed, dropping the accent to reveal the ragged, hissing voice of an orc, "it's Keel. That diamond is a family heirloom. Listen; I owe you, big time. If there's anything you need, I'll do it." With a smile, Remington pulled the letter out of his pocket, wiped a droplet of blood from the snakeman's nose, and scrawled 'mausoleum' on the back of the paper. "The mausoleum? It's right there... How did you not notice it? Anyway, if you're going in there, I can help you out. It's pretty dangerous, but I've been before," Keel responded. "So... What are you waiting for? Let's go!" --- Sorry about the poor quality of some of these photos, I didn't notice until after I'd taken them. Some more pictures of the moc: I'm not as happy with this as I was with my last moc, because when I built it I was pretty low on parts from being too lazy to break down my previous builds. I'm probably going to build some more Rockwail stuff in the future, but this should be one of the last builds of the Rockwail streets for a while. The next build you can expect from me will be of the catacombs beneath the city... C&C are welcome, have a great day!
  12. Remington Red was once the greatest and most famous bard in all of Historica. He was well known for his talent across all instruments, but he favoured the classic lute when he sung his songs. His talent was so great, that it is said he could beat any challenger in a musical duel; however, this turned out to be more of a gift than a curse, and many other bards from across the country grew to despise him. Red's ego grew and grew until he started to get noticed by forces greater than himself. A great and powerful demon, Zoroaster Bombaster, challenged Red to a battle of the bards and, using his demonic talents and trickery, managed to beat the bard at his own game. The price for losing was his soul, and Red died soon after. However, in Nocturnus, death is only temporary. Theophraster Bombaster, the half-brother of Zoroaster, brought the bard back to life as Remington Rot, in hopes that he would defeat Zoroaster so that Theophraster could take his throne. Upon death, one generally finds that they lose their ability to talk- and despite no longer being under the ground, Remington Rot had no voice. Thus, he found himself in the swamps of Moruth in search of Baron Lonnidas, one of the few people he knew would be able to get him his voice back. After all, how could Rot once again become the greatest bard in Historica without being able to sing? --- This is the start of the adventures of my sigfig, Remington Rot, and my first set of mocs for GoH! C&C is appreciated :)
  13. AoM: Wall phase 1

    So here is the first of some incoming builds. I wanted to create a wooden wall without pallisade bricks, I think I succeeded. (Quite partsconsuming though :) ) This was the first time I ever touched those 3-leave plants, I just ordered them and never had them before, so I had to try how to work with them. (apparently they are much more flexible than I imagined) The trumpet is gonna pop up a lot, I play it myself so I love that brick. It is also my first real shot on an irregular base, I think it turned out fine, but it could have been much smoother. I actually want to create my own settlement, im working on a story for it right now, this will be included too. (I know, the 4 categories for a hamlet all need to be fullfilled, lots of work to do :D) Wall0-2 by David de Rijke, on Flickr Wall0-1 by David de Rijke, on Flickr Wall0-3 by David de Rijke, on Flickr Wall0-4 by David de Rijke, on Flickr Wall0-5 by David de Rijke, on Flickr (and this is where I use yellow rounds for)
  14. The Company of Lord Theodore Bruin has heard the call from the Desert King. Much like all the other mercenary companies that gather at Sultan's Gate, the so called "Teddy's Bears" are hoping to gain both gold and glory from the upcoming crusade. Travelling down from the North these Mitgardians need to pass trough some rough terrain before reaching the land of Kaliphlin. The company consists of three divisions, the knights, the footmen and the archers, all resourceful and reliable soldiers commanded by the respectable Lord Bruin and his counsellor. The company is of course also bringing their loyal mascot, the brown bear Boo. For the Desert King's Nocturnus Crusade Mini Challenge. /Etzel
  15. This is my entry for Stage 1 in the Warlords of Nocturnus community build. My warlord is Gryphen Hammerking. Story: Gryphen Hammer was always a tall dwarf, and all dwarves want to be tall. No, don't get me wrong, dwarves understand that they are so strong because of how short they are, but they still wish to be taller. So Gryphen was respected for his height, and he was always friendly and a good leader. He was never afraid of a fight, either. So when the old king died without any family left alive, there was no doubt Gryphen should be the next warlord. The suffix -king was added to his name, and he was then known as Gryphen Hammerking. About the build: The build is Gryphen Hammerking standing outside of the Lone Tower, one of the many outposts in his land. Unfortunately, the Tower was built for a normal sized dwarf, so Gryphen is a bit tall for it.
  16. Chapter 1-Going Underground There was a distinct musty odor to the room. That in itself was odd. Here in Kaliphlin, moisture is rare so a musty smell is not common. However, this far below the city Ras-El-Akhen which was located on the Akhenaten Delta and thus on the coast of The Great Southern Ocean, there was a definite mustiness to the air. Kha removed his breastplate and placed on the stand just beneath his helm. For a moment he just stared and admired the workings of the Kaliphlin Lion standard and the Red and Blue accents that denoted his loyalty to this great kingdom. With a great exhale, he turned around and readied himself to leave. “Sir, are you sure this is such a good idea?” asked Henrik. Henrik was Kha’s oldest advisor here in the city of Ras-El-Akhen. For the duration of Kha’s rule, Henrik had been there attending to even the most minute details that he felt would help Kha be a great leader for his city. “No….I am not sure this is a good idea. But, now that we have started the Resistance and with the uprising that Malek has caused, I am out of options.” “Yes sir, turning Malek from the Desert King has certainly changed the landscape throughout Kaliphlin. However, I am not sure that this undertaking of yours is absolutely necessary. I am certain that you are the leader your people need here when all of this comes to a head.” Henrik countered. “Henry, you know that the Desert King has put a mark on my head. And even though most of the citizens here are loyal to me and to Kaliphlin, there are movements in the shadows even here. I have seen them, and I have been lucky so far. With what the Desert King is unleashing now, I fear that I must take drastic measures to ensure the future of a free Kaliphlin. “We cannot stand against the might he has gathered, and the unnatural powers he has at hand. Masa and I have uncovered something that may change the tide of this war for good. An ancient knowledge, or power actually that can help us remove the tyrant from his seat of power.” Kha continued. “So, I must go not only for my safety, but for the future of our land.” “My Lord Kha, I understand, but must you go looking such a vagabond?”, despite his proper upbringing and positive outlook, Henrik wasn’t able to make that sound complementing. With a laugh, Kha responded, “This is the only way I can get out of the city without being recognized! And I am in for a rough and dusty road ahead.”, he paused and took on a serious look. “Henrik, I need you to keep an eye on things here in Ras-El-Akhen as I’m gone. No matter who takes over the palace and the city, you must not let on your loyalty. Be the most loyal servant to them you can be. I need an insider when I return. And when I return, it will be in force and the Desert King will tremble.” As Kha wove his way through the streets of the city, he paused to take in the sights, smells and sounds of the land he loved. Through it all though, he could sense an air of fear and tension that seemed to crackle just below the surface. It was the fear of a free people that knew liberty was at risk. As he passed through the great Akhenaten gate, Kha paused and turned one last time to look on his city. He silently vowed that no matter what it took, he would see the council restored in Kaliphlin and the sovereign states returned to prominence. And at the last, he had to chuckle as he saw a member of the A’shan Daes standing vigilant atop the gate. With a quick tribute, the A’shan raised her spear and departed. Now, it was up to Kha. He and Masa had uncovered some ancient tomes that referred to an ancient. Referred to only as the Elemendi, but with such a combination of fear and reverence as to imply great power… Just a couple more shots of the gate... So....The Resistance is taking shape now. To the Ax with the Tax was just the beginning. I have quite a bit planned here, and some interesting new elements to bring to Historica as the plot thickens in Kaliphlin's turmoil as well as the impending Nocturnus civil war. Hope you enjoyed it, and stay tuned as I will try to continue this story in a grand fashion.
  17. Path to Redemption

    "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes." Palzipan comes to the border of Avalonia. Palzipan, Healer of wounds, mender of flesh. Born and raised in Nocturnus, Palzipan, once a knight in the Nocturnian army, has come to Avalonia so as to live a simpler life as a healer. While he mainly deals with the art of healing, his is known to dabble in alchemy. A simple life seems not to be for him though, because once in Avalonia his past calls out to him, and he joins the Flight of the Dragons... I'd like to claim UoP DoH credits for the following: -trees -flowers and dense foliage landscaping -forests More pictures on my flickr. C&C welcome. Tell me what's bad, I can take it!
  18. A Marriage for the History Books

    Before his death in the Mystic Isles, Cassius's advisor, Alfred, had taken on the duties of a father and had begun looking for a suitable match for his young duke. His death, however, hindered him from ever finishing his search. When Alfred's body was retrieved from the swamplands to receive a proper burial, there was also found in the tower several sheafs of paper, one of which had a list of potential suitors inscribed on it. Acting on this list, Cassius began to search for a woman to marry. After pursuing many leads that led to unsuitable (sometimes bearded in the case of the northern neighbors) people, he eventually met the one for him in a small, yet politically important Kaliphlinian city. Her name was Kathryn, of the House of Belloc. After being engaged for some time, the two were finally joined in matrimony in the Great Cathedral in Burnby. And thus begins a new chapter of the history of Burnby, now under the rule of not just a Duke, but now also a Duchess. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Wow, it been a while since I've posted something here! This has actually been built since, like, March maybe, but I've just now gotten around to posting it. Sorry for the hiatus, but I should be back regularly now!
  19. When you are building an army, be sure to find a good place to set up camp. OoC:This is my first MOC on EB. I am aware of the bad lighting, background, and quality. Any Constructive criticism is welcome, especially about my horrid tree. Oh, and should I change my minifigs' arms to regular green (rather than dark)? Make sure there is a lot of wood to build your camp. And a place to store your arms. OoC: A look of the small place without minifigs. OoC: Thanks for taking the time to look at this and give any advice you have.
  20. Defending Northwall was not very difficult. The Desert King's mummy forces swarmed toward the walls carelessly, not using teamwork or tactics. This made them easy to take out from afar with the bolts of Ulandus' crossbows... -------------------------------------------------------------------- Figless: This was my first try making something as large as a castle wall, I really like how it turned out . C&C very much appreciated As for UoP, I would like to claim credits for: -battle scene -wall technique #1
  21. Fort Hemmekab

    A small but sturdy fort built to protect the settlements of the tribe of Ritzen. Untitled by mlarbconnor, on Flickr Overall view. Note the kaliphlin colors on the roof of the tower/ladder housing. Untitled by mlarbconnor, on Flickr View of the front gates. [url=https://flic.kr/p/rxtNXp][/url]Untitled by mlarbconnor, on Flickr View of one side, part of the wall there is natural cliff, the short tower behind it has a ladder to get up. Untitled by mlarbconnor, on Flickr A guard relaxing in the crossbow nest. Untitled by mlarbconnor, on Flickr View of the ground level with a weapons stash and beds for off duty guards. Hope you like it, feedback is appreciated.
  22. In the lush, dense undergrowth of the Arkbri Valley, the easiest way to manouver is often through the streams and irrigations canals crisscrossing the valley. There, vegetation and rock outcroppings are not hindering movement, although leeches, bugs, and the occasional crocodile can make it an unpleasant experience. Sand King Patrol by Beorthan, on Flickr This morning, a Desert King patrol is scouting for hidden routes to the Quenscross, as part of a concerted effort to covertly move forces towards the expected battle of that strategic chokepoint. Little do they know that their patrol is a about to meet an abrupt and violent end... Ambush by Beorthan, on Flickr With a marksmen posted on the cliffside and two seasoned fighters on the ground, Beorthan reckons the ambush will leave the patrol with little chance. Overview by Beorthan, on Flickr My entry for the High Council to Warzone 1: The Arkbri Skirmishes, in Guilds of Historica Book II, Challenge IV I shall await coordination with my faction before chosing which zone to attack next (should I win). Edit: Next warzone: E8, Queenscross On a side note, the description for this area reminded me of the "green zone" around the Helmand river in Afghanistan, so that was my inspiration. The patrols there often walk in the channels.
  23. The oldest inn in the Trifork, The crown was build for the King's messengers passing through on their way to Albion. Located in one of the nicest neighbourhoods of the Trifork, you often see the posher youths meeting nearby. While the rooms are small, the beds are comfortable, and the inn offers a measure of luxury with a large spa on the roof. Just a small build for the HSS task. Hope you enjoy it - was a fun build.
  24. MOC: The Stress of Leadership

    "The stress of leadership was getting to Robin. But he had to persist. It was his duty..." The Stress of Leadership by Chance Reed, on Flickr The Stress of Leadership by Chance Reed, on Flickr --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I wanted to expirement with lighting, so I tried photographing it in the morning (I take my pictures outside). Sometimes it looks good for certain builds, but I'm not sure about this one. I haven't been able to get the light to look like in my Minifigure series here: http://www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=105226 . If you guys have any tips, I would greatly appreciate them By the way, the mosaic is supposed to be a carpet with the four guilds and Cedrica in the middle. (Cedrica is blue and gold right?) I would like to claim UoP DoH for: - Mosaics - Interior Design Thanks!
  25. Spring is a wonderful season in Mitgardia. The trees are beautiful against the newly growing foliage. The waves of the sea lap against the sandy beach. Animals come from their winter hibernation and migration as the weather warms and food again becomes abundant. Two swans float gently on the stream flowing into the sea. A mountain ram comes for a drink from the crystal clear water. Frogs and toads can be heard croaking to their companions. Gray weasels scamper about in the trees. Occasionally, a fish leaps from the water, streaking a flash of silver above the sapphire sea. All is calm and quiet… …until suddenly, the waters begin to churn! The stream outlet starts roiling as swarms of fish mob inland, fighting each other to avoid some unknown danger! Ice begins forming along the beach as snow blows in at a rapid pace! Cold air blasts down, freezing everything in its path! Dark storm clouds roll in so fast the fauna barely have a chance to react! The ram turns to run, the frogs and toads flee the waters, the swans take flight, the fish struggle to move further inland away from the freezing waters! On the horizon, white ships come into view speeding quickly in from the Frozen Beyond, their tattered sails driven by the wintery gale! What is causing this unexpected winter weather? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Detail pictures here.