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Welcome to Mitgardia If you are new and want to join the fun here, you just think of a character/sigfig for yourself, post it here, and start building. For a signup example you can look at the members overview section. Green and yellow are the official colors of Mitgardia, so incorporating them into your creations helps show your loyalty though it is not required to have the Mitgardian colors in every MOC. Keep reading to find out more about the great Northern guild! Section One: Guilds of Historica Background The bard’s song tells a tale of a world long forgotten. Race against race, clan against clan; shields clashed with swords, long ago when Men of the Lion fought Men of the Falcon, and human armies succumbed to Orcs and undead. Each group clashed with its neighbor for power, unleashing upon the world a great scourge. The arcadian land was thrown into chaos. When all seemed lost, a council of wise men and sages was summoned. From all the lands they came to convene in the old world’s greatest city: the fortress of Cedrica. To settle the grievances and end a millennium of bloodshed, the sages declined all the treaties of old and joined the clans into one mighty Kingdom: Historica. They founded the Four Great Guilds – each one a realm in itself – Mitgardia in the North, Nocturnus in the East, Kaliphlin in the South, and Avalonia in the West, so that trade routes would spring up and clans would meet in the markets and not in the theatre of war. The wise men chose a family of great honor, to uphold the truce and to keep the four guilds from dispute, and descendants of that mighty kin ruled the central lands of Historica for decades. But darkness and chaos had only been thwarted, not conquered. Magic was unleashed upon the land, magic that fell into the hands of Victor Revolword. Only in union did the Guilds find strength to defeat him and destroy the Elemental Helm that gave him power. Yet the struggle was not over, for out of the chaos magic had bred there arose a new threat: the Black Spire. Ravaage the Terrible, of whom no man ever spoke save with bated breath and behind closed doors, ruled the darklands of Nocturnus with a rod of iron and resistance glowed only in scattered embers. Meanwhile Drow invaded Avalonia, Algus from the north swept into Mitgardia, and the resurrection of the ancient Desert King threw Kaliphlin into confusion. Slowly, the heroes of the Guilds realized the truth: the fire that fueled the powers of destruction and chaos throughout the land burnt deep in the heart of Nocturnus. There Ravaage sought for the ultimate power, the Necromancer’s Helm. Only by once again uniting, this time against Ravaage, could Historica be saved from ashes and the rule of the undead. But who would unite the Guilds? The King had been slain by Revolword, his son murdered by Ravaage; no other family could command the respect of all the Guilds or ignite their loyalty and patriotism. Yet a rumor arose, a rumor of hope. An heir had appeared, under whose banner all who desired peace could unite. Heroes of Historica, rise up and fight the invader who brings discord to your realm! And rise the heroes did. Throughout the land, in every corner, evil and chaos were subdued. Rivals pledged allegiance to the new, unknown King, and sallied forth to battle Ravaage together. Old jealousies were forgotten. Each man felt that it was the dawning of a new day for Historica. By trickery, the mages of Historica defeated Ravaage and destroyed him, sealing the chamber of the Necromancer’s Helm forever. Leaderless, Ravaage’s army has crumbled, his plans and power vanished. Disorder remains, but the worst seems to be over. All eyes turn toward the throne of Cedrica, where the new monarch, Queen Ylspeth, reigns and rebuilds. Much needs to be resolved, many questions remain to be answered, but at last, Historica breaths free. Guildsmen! This is the world you inhabit, this is the place where you will make your fortune, build a mighty empire, and battle for the glory and honor of the banner… Section Two: Guild Background and Theme Mitgardia: Frigid Wonderland Landscape: From the Frozen Beyond with its secrets to the vast snowy lands of various clans. Where the clan territory ends the terrain starts with large pine forests and the heavenly mountains. After passing the mountains you'll find the tundras and finally there's the Demon's Ridge. That's Mitgardia. No one knows what lies in the Frozen Beyond, not many dare to go there. It is home to fierce creatures like ice dragons and blizzard wolfs, whom haven't crossed the Ebar stream for centuries which connects the Frozen Beyond to the Clan Lands. Recently the fearsome Algus made an attempt to overthrow all of Mitgardia, but have been pushed back into the wastelands of the Frozen Beyond. The Clan Lands are home to various tribes. The conditions are extremely harsh as there's snow whole year long, here real men are made. At the age of 12 boys are send into the cold by pairs, to make it on their own a whole year long to return as men. Even southern cities send their boys to the clans to learn the ways of the clans. South of the Clan Lands majestic mountains appear. The Heavenly Mountains, surrounded by pine forests these mountains are home to grand cities like Omurtag. These mountains are also Mitgardia's economical heart, because they contain iron, gold, coal and other treasures. Past the mountains you'll find the tundra, which holds plains and forests. These lands are Mitgardia's agricultural center and it's home to most of Mitgardia's inhabitants as it also contains Valholl, the capital. In the summer the tempertures can even go up as high as the ones they are used to in Kaliphlin, because of warm winds from Nocturnus´ vulcanoes. Most south lies Demon's Ridge. A natural barrier to keep unwanted guests out of Mitgardia. With its steep mountains, combined with the cold, you don't want to go through them without a guide. The Isles of Solitude are mostly uninhabited, though ruins of ancient strongholds still remain, and a few outposts of stalwart Mitgardians can be found. Standard: Green and yellow unite Mitgardia. Economy: Giant mines with Historica's best treasures, and of course Ale, are Mitgardia's most important economical resources. Timber is also plentiful Section Three: Recent Guild History Even Mitgardia fell prey to the disorder and discontent so prevalent in Historica recently, and nearly plunged into civil war as some of the powerful Dwarven houses looked to invade Avalonia. Ultimately, the crisis was averted, but tensions between some Dwarven families and the Mitgardian government remained. And then came the terrible invasion of the Algus from the Frozen Beyond. In the struggle to push them back to their icy lands much of Mitgardia was weakened. With a new heir to the throne in Cedrica, maybe now Mitgardia can rebuild its former days of unity and might. Section Four: Guild Leader Core Leader: soccerkid6, this is the member who you can go to for changes to this thread, member disputes, and game question about Mitgardia. Guild Leaders: These are the characters who lead the factions for story purposes. Mitgardian Faction- Sir Glorfindel (soccerkid6) is acting as the Steward of Mitgardia currently, while Elon Chorian (Ecclesiastes) attends to some important family matters. Sir Glorfindel's advisors: Elon Chorian (Ecclesiastes) Steen Larsson (kabel) Section Five: Current Guild Challenges. Guild sign-up: If Mitgardia sounds like the home for you, create a character and post your character in this thread! Community Build: Landscapes of Mitgardia, Dwellings of Mitgardia Mitgardia free-build-challenge: Age of Mitgardia Please post a link to each of your free-builds or challenge builds in this topic, as you complete them. It keeps things simple for indexing purposes. Past Books: Mitgardia Book I Thread, Mitgardia Book II Thread Section Six: People of Mitgardia. Mitgardia is home to a wide variety of people, below are some examples of the types of inhabitants you may find: Members Elon Chorian (Ecclesiastes) Titles and profession: Leader of Mitgardia Short Bio: Proud member of the house of Chorian who live in Ondylion for centuries which was destroyed by the elemental monsters. With the absence of the Jarl and his city destroyed, Elon is living in Valholl now as steward of Mitgardia. Hometown: Valholl Parts: Head, Head and Torso, Green Arms, Hips and Legs, Cape 1, Cape 2, Cape 3, Shields and Axe Blades, Bar, Plume, Steen Larsson (kabel) Titles and profession: Carpenter, Royal Architect, Vice-Admiral of the Mitgardia Fleet, Homeprovider for the Poor, Defender of Valholl as well as Doctus of Mitgardia. Short Bio: Steen was born in Helgestorp a small village near the city of Stoneroda, where, at the age of 7, he became a carpenter aprentince. Due to his military skills he soon rose within the ranks of the Stoneroda militia and his protector Lord Eric Grimmson became awere of him. Steen was eventually choosen to represent the Stoneroda carpenter guild in the Valholl Thing, the Mitgardian parliament. There he showed that he was able to do more than just fight and cut timbers and thus earned quite some titles. With the descrution of Helgestorp and Stoneroda, Steen relocated to Thorshaven, where his brother Lars Larsson currently serves as the mayor of the prospering young town. Hometown: Stoneroda Parts: Hair,¨Head, Cape, Torso, Arms, Hips and Legs, Spear Sir Glorfindel (soccerkid6 - previous sigfig) Titles and profession: Architect Regent of Valholl, Officer of Valholl, Treasurer of the Valholl Mason's guild, Economic Titan, Knight of Valholl, Mason Teacher, Shadow Rider, Rigr, Gentleman, Farmer, Innkeeper, Watchman, Protector, Frost Berserker, Eagle Eyed Danger, Manager, Gatekeeper, Vendour, Miller, Lord Mayor, Agrarian, and Strategic Heavy Weight Short Bio: Though Daydelon has been a small town in years past it is now expanding rapidly and Glorfindel is committed to keeping it strong. Glorfindel visits Valholl often to discuss current matters in Mitgardia with Elon and Steen. Among the dwarves of Mitgardia Glorfindel has many allies, and is always welcomed at the great city of Hradcanny. Hometown: Daydelon Parts: Plume, Green Hand Plume, Helmet and Visor, Head, Cape, Scabbard, Torso, Arms, Legs, Sword, Shield Eryl Storrar (soccerkid6) Titles and profession: Short Bio: Eryl Storrar of Harburg is already a staunch Mitgardian despite his young age. Which should stand him in good stead as he likely will be lord of Harburg one day. Eryl's parents, Karsten and Karin, are the Lord and Lady of Harburg, while his uncle is Sir Glorfindel - Karsten's younger brother. Eryl has a twin sister named Elise, and like most twins, they get into plenty of mischief together. Hometown: Harburg Parts: Hair, Head, Torso, Arms, Hands, Legs Mikkel Winter-Stone (mrcp6d) Titles and profession: member of the Jarls' engineering corps Short Bio: Mikkel is an engineer for the Jarl, hailing from the Mitgardian capitol, Valholl, and was traveling on a cartography expedition in the Northern Wastelands when Victor's machinations came to light. Since then, he has used his knowledge to improve on the crossbow, increasing its range and accuracy. Recently, in conjunction with the dwarves of Omurtag, he has begun experimenting with new fire-powered ballistic weapons. Whether this fire-breathing tube functions on science or wizardry, he knows not - he just knows it works. Hometown: Valholl Parts: Feather , Hat , Head , Scarf , Torso , Green Arms , Hands , Legs Sir Gunman the Lurikeen (Gunman) Titles and profession: Economic Titan Short Bio: Gunman was born in euosmos, a small city Southeast of tundra.Following his father's steps he became member of a local clan named DAOC at the age of 13. The clan was all about hunting wild animals near euosmos and exploring the lands of Mitgardia. Today at the age of 27, Gunman and his friends Hlias and Markus are core members of the clan and starting to plan serious adventures outside of the Mitgardian boarders. Hometown: Euosmos Parts: Arms, Torso, Legs, Sword, Cape 1, Cape 2, Head, Hair Wyndor (MKJoshA) Titles and profession: Leader of the forces at Dalig Ulv, Friend of the dwarves of Treacleheim, Bane of the Algus Short Bio: Wyndor lives in the northwestern portion of Mitgardia. During the Algus Saga he worked with Charlemagne from Kaliphlin to obtain a dragon. Now he spends his days patrolling the northern borders of Mitgardia with his dragon to ensure no Algus make their way south. Hometown: Dalig Ulv Parts: coming soon! Makny Annenson (The Stad) Profession: Commander of the Stromvakt Bio: Born to the second son of the Lord of Førstlys on the Burial Isle, Makny Annensen was never likely to inherit the rule of his grandfather’s holdings. Instead, he passed his youth learning the ways in which he could best serve his family and people. After his customary year in the clan lands when he came of age, which was just before the Elemental Crisis, he had many adventures and faced many trials, eventually coming into his own as a warrior and strategist. Following the wars against Ravaage, his puppet states, and his allies, Makny surrendered any claim he would ever have to the lordship and took his father’s place commanding the Stromvakt, the elite household guard of Førstlys. Hometown: Førstlys Parts: Hair, Head, Torso, Arms, Hands, Legs, Scabbard, Cape Alfadas Mandredson (Alfadas) Titles and profession: Rigr Alfadas Mandredson, Frost Berserker, Eagle Eyed Danger, Shadow Rider, Watchmen, Gatekeeper, Protector and Farmer from the North! Short Bio: Hailing from a small village near the Winter lakes in the south of Mitgardia, Alfadas grew up as the oldest son of the leader of said village. The village thrived in fishing (as they are close to the winter lakes) and the export of said fish to nearby towns. Alfadas didn't much feel like becoming the leader of a small boring village, so he took a couple of friends and together, with Alfadas as their captain, they traveled all across Mitgardia, aiding people and Mitgardia itself. Slowly coming to the conclusion he isn't invulnerable (mostly because he got one of his legs chopped off by a Cyclops) Alfadas grew up to become a more responsible person. When he gets tired of fighting, he will have a village to govern. Hometown: The Winter Lakes Parts: Hair, head, torso, cape (brown), sword, shield, legs (aren't official legs, they are regular green legs with a peg leg) Isengrin (meepinater) Titles and profession: Soldier, scaredy-cat, chicken, little mouse. Short Bio: As a child, Isengrin always wanted to serve as a soldier. When he became of age, he enlisted for a soldier. In his first battle, however, he witnessed his company murdered by orcs. He has never recovered since. Although he can still summon his courage, Isengrin often turns pale at the mention of orcs or goblins... or anything of the sort, really. Hometown: Omurtag Parts: torso: part #937 in dk grey with black hands. legs: part #970 in dark grey. weapon: part # 25111 in silver. Shield: part #22408. helmet: part #3844. armor: part #2587. head: part #326cpb2081 Arun Hilgrim (CaptainAaron) Titles and profession: none Short Bio: Arun is a novice explorer and aspiring wizard from Valholl. There, he recently completed university studies in archaeology and mystic lore. With the recent dangers facing the realms, he hopes to help by unearthing ancient artifacts and discovering long-lost secrets. Besides being a well versed researcher, Arun has some arcane skill. This is currently limited to two abilities. First, he can brightly illuminate his staff at will. The second is that he can comprehend the speech of his wooly goat, Grep. Arun is now moving into his family’s old cottage located in the foothills northeast of Valholl. From there he will have a safe haven for adventuring and can begin exploring the lands of Mitgardia. Hometown: Valholl Parts: Hair, Head, Torso, Arms, Hands, Legs, Backpack Lady Eleanor of Bluevale (Bracari) Title: Ruler of Bluevale Short Bio: The Bluevale country is Lady Eleanor's ancestral home. Nestled inside a mighty mountain range it is a long valley with a large lake in the middle, fed by a myriad of small streams which spring from the surrounding mountains. A river flows from this lake carving a small pass through the eastern part of the mountains. The southwestern region has hot springs and geysers due to volcanic activity, this gives the valley a special micro-climate. The valley is fertile and was famous for its Orchards whose Apples were then distilled into cider, appreciated throughout Mitgardia. The Lords of Bluevale prospered from this trade for centuries, acquiring land and businesses even in the Capital itself. Unfortunately a volcanic eruption followed by a war between brothers took a heavy toll on the community as many died or fled. Although triumphant against his brother, Lord Brius (Eleanor's grandfather) moved the family to Valholl being able to maintain a noble status due to his wealth. Eleanor was born there, her mother dying in childbirth, and raised surrounded by finery, a melancholic grandfather and often absent father. However, without the steady income from Bluevale's products, some bad investments and general squandering of money by Eleanor's father, Lord Firth, after her grandfather's passing the family lost most of its wealth. When Lord Firth died just a couple of years later, the family status gone and looked upon with a certain disdain by other nobles a young Eleanor decided to sell the little holdings she still had (even the family's house in the city where she grew up) and with a small retinue of faithful servants return to Bluevale to reclaim and rebuild the family's domain. Parts: Hair, Head, Torso, Arms, Hands, Legs and Hips, Cape. Ronan Lund ((Luc)ky Luke) Titles and profession: Blacksmith in training Short Bio: Ronan was born in the small village called Flockwood. This village high up in the mountains was founded, after the destruction of Helgestorp by a small group of former inhabitants. After a few days of walking haunted by freezing winds this small group found a spring in an almost hidden valley. The group decided to stay there and founded the village now known as Flockwood. Because of the dangers the group encountered in the mountains and the everyday treat of the freezing cold and the mountain’s wildlife, every boy and girl had to learn how to fight from the day they learned how to walk. Even though he lives in a rough place Ronan always tries to stay positive. Hometown: Flockwood Parts: Hat Head Cape Torso Pants Ygnvi Arnesson (Ayrlego) Titles and Profession: None Short Bio: Ygnvi Arnesson grew up in a small rural village set in the valleys of Mitgardia's southern mountains. His early summers were spent in the mountains tending to his families livestock and he seemed set to become a simple farmer. That was; however, until he was drafted into the local fyrd during recent troubles. Unlike many of his neighbours, he seemed to have a talent of fighting, and the taste of life outside of the village of his birth gave him a yearning for adventure. Now free of his service in the militia, he looks to make his name and fortune serving Mitgardia however he can. Parts: hair, head, torso (with green arms), legs Amos Lachlan (Spud the Viking) Titles and Profession: Clergyman, chronicler, scholar. Short Bio: Amos Lachlan is the second son of a farming family in the South lowlands of Mitgardia. He preaches within a small community and still has a soft-spot for agriculture because of his upbringing. Lachlan would like to venture out into surrounding settlements in order to get a general sense of the politics and needs of the people. He keeps notes of current events in order to provide written history. Along with him travels his dog; Kirk. Hometown: A small village on the West side of the Antler river Parts: to be updated Andros Graymane (A_Goodman) Titles and Profession: Blacksmith Short Bio: Born to a modest family on a farm outside of Valholl, Andros grew up in comfort while learning trades such as lumberman and agriculturist. However Andros always had a gift for forging. At the age of 15 Andros left home and joined a group of mercenaries called the Silent Scythe. They were known for taking odd jobs around the Tundra and occasionally making their way north into the Clan Lands. After several years, a job went bad and the few remaining members of the group disbanded. Upon returning home Andros discovered the family farm in ruin and no trace of what had become of his family. Taking the small amount of gold he had saved during his time as a member of the Silent Scythe he purchased a small forge south of Teridyan, on the eastern border of the Tundra. Here he creates some of the highest quality weapons and armor in all of Mitgardia. Although he feels more comfortable creating weapons than using them, as a former mercenary, he is always ready to suit up in his old set of armor and join some fellow guildsman on a quest. As long as there is some gold in it for him of course. Hometown:Valholl Parts:Will Add Virgil Faust (Blaze) Titles and profession: Captain of the Northern Rangers. A group of soldiers whose task it is to protect the most northern places of Mitgardia. Their speciality is hunting and taming dragons and big lizards, but are also excellent at capturing/hunting or sometimes even killing of other large creatures and monsters. Short Bio: A young ranger, but with already a great reputation, he is the youngest captain ever and also the gouvernor of Pikesteel village. If you have a big snake in your bathroom or a drake in your backyard, send a message to Virgil, he will know how to take care of them! Hometown: Pikesteel Village, at the foot of Pikesteel Mountain. Dargrin Galvinor (dathil) Short bio: The Galvinors go way back. Originating from Varlyria, Dargrin's ancestors came to Stagmont in Mitgardia looking for a new home, a place to follow their ideals. Within a few generations, they became a respected family, due to them using their coin investing in the expanse of Stagmont. The Stagmont Dargrin has been born and raised in, has become a serious town, and the Galvinors are accepted as its paramounts. Dargrin, his brother Edmun, and their uncle Drakk are focussed on solving the mysteries around the disappearance of their parents during the war, as well as on restoring the prosperity of their hometown. Hometown: Stagmont (sigil: Stag on a dark red and dark green field) Parts: Hair, Head, Torso, Arms, Hands, Legs, Cape Snorri Puvelson (Puvel) Titles and profession: Farmer - Protector Short Bio: Snorri Puvelson, son of Puvel the Hurn, is a veteran of the Alguswars. After receiving training from his father, Snorri joined the fight in the cold mountains. Even though he’s a battle hardened veteran at his young age, his aim is to lead a peaceful life and make his hometown prosperous again. Hometown: Kyllingfelt Parts: Hair, Head, Torso, Legs? Eoin Wallace (Eoin Wallace) Short bio: Eoin Wallace is a fierce warrior who lives in the woods just south of Dalig ulv, with his friend Douglas. From his house in the woods he mostly spends his time patrolling the wilds of mitgardia, discouraging bandits and keeping law and order. He sometimes goes into the cities but when he does its never for long, for he feels uneasy with all the people in one place. Home town: the woods south of Dalig ulv. Parts: head, legs, torso, green and yellow arms with flesh hands, scabbard, sword, cape, hair, brown stick, torch, gem. Louis of Valnötsträd (Louis of Nutwood) Titles and Profession: Young Karl; Aspiring warrior. Short Bio: I was born in a small village called Valnötsträd, famous for its timber. Father was a skillful carpenter and Mother was an audacious house builder. But I never aspired to work with them. My destiny was much grander. I dreamt of crossing the lands of the North, to seek for mysteries and great adventures, just like my grandfather, Föbvr the Wise. I wanted to fight alongside the bravest of men and build alliances with the wisest of them. On my father’s deathbed, I pledged to protect my family. And I swore to the gods that I would become a great warrior to fight and die for the people of Mitgardia. To Valholl. To Mitgardia! Hometown: Valnötsträd Parts: Hair, Head with freckles, Cape, Hun Cape, Torso, Dark brown left arm, Dark blue right Arm, Legs, Sword, Shield, Brown Stick. Sigrid Haraldsdottir (Aurore) Titles and profession : advisor and aspiring herbalist Short bio : Sigrid was the youngest daughter of the ruler of Horgaard, a tiny village nested in a secluded valley of the Heavenly Mountains. She spent a peaceful childhood bickering with her siblings and riding in the mountains, while showing an insatiable curiosity about...well, about everything and anything - but especially plants. And rocks. And animals as well. When her father and brothers went to war, Sigrid and her older sister Dagmar were left behind in charge of the village. Years later, none of the men have returned. Dagmar has become the de facto ruler of the village, and Sigrid acts as her advisor. HometownHome-one-horse-village : Horgaard Parts : Hair - Head - Cape - Torso (with white arms) - Skirt (alternate legs when mounted) Captain Arion (ForTheGreaterGood) Short Bio: My sigfig's name is Captain Arion, he's a Mitgardian army captain and he's from Teridyan. He's the second of five children, and prefers to lead his soldiers by example rather than by words. Parts List: hair, torso , arms are just regular green system arms, legs ,sword, shield, head Ava (Zarcania) Short bio : Has been recently discovered by a Mitgardian, lying on the floor near ruins in the south of Mitgardia. A list of name has been found in his pocket. It appaers that, at least some could be Mitgardians names. Until now, he has not really managed to wake up from the limb he is in, so we don't really know more. Title and profession : we don't know... Hometown : we don't know...

The sun descended on my back and was lost under the pine trees. In its place, a black veil covered the world, and the faint light of a rusty lantern was the only thing guiding my steps. But the dim light I held close, faded, and faded until it was no more than a shy firefly in a winter night. Black walls closed in. The thick winds of the northern evening tightened on my neck, and a single step forward felt wrong, adrift. But there, up in the distance, amidst the dark mantle that wrapped the forest, a bright silvery gloom shone between the trunks. I followed the ivory light, until I reached its source. It gloomed as bright as the sun, poking out of the ground, twisted, and crooked. A bare skeleton of a long-gone beast. The thick roots sticking out from the ground felt rigid and warm to the touch. And as if washed by a blessing, darkness gave way to a path of pale trees made of bones. Suddenly and clearly, I saw the path I was destined to pursue. Louis of Nutwood ________ Really hope you liked it! I was looking for different techniques for trees, and came up with this bone-claw-toothy structure. A perfect addition to the Mitgardian lore. This is a 12x12 entry for the Brickscalibur contest as well. Skol!

Kallstark Stronghold Amidst the frozen silhouette that divided the horizon, a wooden needle pierced the clouds. Once again, I knew I was close. And once again, I felt my heart ache. Iron rings clinked in my ears, and I stroke my wrists, heavy with the memory of captivity. I prayed I would never return to Kallstark... yet our destinies remain in the hands of the spinners. So, there I was, standing on a narrow path by its impregnable gates. Only this time, it was different. All was different. For once, I was armed. Spear in hand and boiled leather over my chest. And those would keep me for... a second? Ten? No. I was armed with a weapon sharper than any sword or spear. I was armed with the knowledge that there was only one thing the Jarl wanted more than my head on a spike. And that... was revenge. I was the only one who could grant him his wish. And I was willing to handle it in a platter, served with ale and music and dancers, so he would bathe in the sweet nectar of his revenge. The gates opened in a crackling sound... A smile crossed my lips. And the pain in my heart was no more. Louis of Valnötsträd ________ Really hope you like it! This is a contribution for the Castle category of the CCC. New pictures coming soon. Skol!

You could smell it before you could see it. That salty, damp, stench of rancid meat, exposed in the open sea. Fish. As far as the eye could see. Fish hanging from balconies. Fish hanging rom hooks. Fish rotting in boxes and nets. Fish guts, fish fins, fish oil. And everything smelled the same. Fish. Smugglers, wanderers, fugitives, fishermen, sailors, and outlaws, they all came to Skaldar Port looking for an opportunity to star over. And for some reason, dealing fish seemed like a good start. For me, something else was at stake. I wasn’t looking for a new start. I was looking for a man that has been hiding in the shadows for way too long. The sack of coins tinkled as I walked the narrow streets of Skaldar. Glancing at signs and banners, I tried averting those eyes filled with temptation that arise in the depths of misery, and searched for the place where the dealer said he would be. The Smelly Inn. Sounded just right. I had the coin and now a target on my back. I could only hope Res would have the information I craved from the moment I left home. But I couldn’t help but think... something smelled fishy. ________ Louis of Nutwood. Skaldar Port. Probably one of my largest builds so far. Really hope you like it. Let me know what you think. Skol!

HISTORICAN SETTLEMENTS Historica is home to many towns, villages, hamlets, and even a few Cities. The Royal Cartographer's Guild of Albion and the Avalonia's foreign affairs minister wish to officially recognize the many settlements of Historica. As a prerequisite to official recognition and inclusion in the "Royal Registry of Historica's Locations of Note" and "Avalonian Sites and Monuments: a comprehensive guide" each settlement must prove that they contain the minimum facilities to provide for their residents. To establish your settlement, you must post MOCs from the following categories. These MOCs CAN be already completed, but they MUST not already be referenced to a different location. (if you try to alter a description of an existing MOC to fit this challenge, you will not be allowed to enter ANY settlements, so do not edit topics you already posted. you can add a post later on in your topic, but if I see that the topic was already posted before Feb 14th, but edited after Feb 13th, it will not be allowed as part of this challenge.) There are a couple of building types that can be counted for multiple types (a Fishery for example can be counted as a nautical AND agricultural). Here are the categories: REQ - Agriculture - Grains & Produce: Farm*, Mill, Granary, Orchard Agriculture - Livestock: Farm*, Cattle/Horse Ranch, Swineherd, Sheepfold, Fishery Nautical: Harbor, Shipwright, Quay, Fishery*, Ferryman REQ - Military: Keep, Barracks, Gatehouse, Tower, Castle, Fort Religious: Chapel, Monastery, Temple, Shrine Medical: Apothecary, Herbalist, Infirmary, Physician Hospitality: Food & Beverage: Bakery, Butcher, Winery, Brewery, Tavern REQ - Hospitality - Lodging: Inn, Stables, Coach House REQ - Laborers: Lumber Mill, Mine, Stone Cutter, Mason REQ - Craftsmen - General Goods: Cooper, Wainwright, Tannery, Dyer, Glass Blower Craftsmen/Merchant - Arms & Armor: Blacksmith, Bowyer, Fletcher, Armorer Craftsmen/Merchant - Clothing: Cobbler, Seamstress, Furrier, Woolen Mill Craftsmen/Merchant - Specialty: Candle Maker, Wood Carver, Bookbinder, Jeweler, Potter Services: Herald, Cartographer, Money Lender, Scribe, Courier, Shipping House Scholars: Observatory, Alchemist, Philosopher, Astrologer Entertainers: Minstrel, Fortune Teller, Performing Troupe, Theatre Administrative (Town or City only): Town Hall, Chancery, Forum, Courthouse Now, the examples provided are not the only things you can build in a category, they are just options. Also, the build must be substantial - showing an interior of one room, or throwing a bunch of bricks up on a plate will not be acceptable entries. Hamlet - There are 5 categories that are required for a Hamlet (the minimum recognized settlement) - Agricultural (either one), Military, Hospitality (either one), Laborer, and Craftsmen. Village - For a Village, you must meet the Hamlet requirements plus meet a total of 8 of the 16 categories. Town - For a Town, you must meet the Hamlet requirement, plus a minimum of 2 Craftsmen buildings, both Agricultural categories, and both Hospitality categories, plus meet a total of 10 of the 16 categories. City - For a City, you must meet the requirements for a Town, plus one administrative building, plus meet a total of 14 of the 16 categories. Port - For a Port, you must meet the Village requirements, including one Nautical building. For this task, there is no time limit, and again, is open to all Historicans. I will be starting a separate thread for this once I get home tonight where you can post a link to your topics. Each person should have only one reply in this topic, where they will post all of their entries. You can have more than one settlement recognized if you wish. You should only have one post per Settlement. Feel free to ask questions, but I will delete them once they have been answered, and compile the answers in the thread below. Do not post for a settlement unless you have a build to post. I will delete any topics that do not contain a link to an existing MOC (no MOCs in progress allowed either) Let me know if you have any questions. Some further ideas for the categories are in this list curated by @Grover. But again, even this extensive list is not exhaustive; if you think your build qualifies for a category, put it there. Creativity is always encouraged! Agriculture Grains and Produce Farm Garden Mill Granary Marketplace Vineyard Orchard Livestock Farm Cattle/Horse ranch Dairy Swineherd Sheepfold Marketplace Kennel Beekeeper Fishery Nautical Harbor Shipwright Quay Fishery Ferryman Port Dock Lighthouse Military Keep Barracks Gatehouse Tower Castle Fortified Bridge Wall Beacon Cavalry Stables Ballista Tower Fort Religious Chapel Church Monastery Tomb Cemetery Temple Mosque Shrine Medical Apothecary Herbalist Infirmary/Hospital Mortician/Necromancer Torture Chamber Barber/Physician Hospitality Food & Beverage Bakery Butcher Winery Kitchens Brewery Café/Street Food Tavern Lodging Inn Stables Coach house Celebrations Wedding Festival Laborers Lumber Mill Grain Mill Mine Stone Cutter Wood Cutter Mason/Adobe Maker Stable Hand Cleaning Workers Field Hands Foresters Carter Diggers Quarry Craftsmen/Merchants General goods Cooper Wainwright Tannery Carpenter Dyer Marketplace Fishing Rod Merchant Glassblower Arms & Armor Blacksmith Bowyer Fletcher Siege workshop Armorer Clothing Cobbler Seamstress Textiles Furrier Woolen Mill Specialty Candlemaker Wood carver Stone Carver/Sculptor Goldsmith Bookbinder Florist Jeweler Horse Tamer Merchant's Hall/Guild Coal Merchant Magic/Potion Vendor Tinker Potter Services Herald Cartographer Money lender General Store Scribe Courier Trading Post Shipping house/Warehouse Scholars Observatory Alchemist Philosopher Library University/Academy Astrologer Entertainment Minstrel Fortune Teller Street Musicians Performing Troupe Brothel Sports Arena Theatre Administrative (Town or City only) Town Hall Chancery Forum Council Building Administrative Building Meeting Hall Customs House Palace Embassy Courthouse

Hired Hands of Historica Queens rule and warriors battle, but workers propel Historica forward. These are the hired hands of Historica. I created these minifigures for the Guilds of Historica 2nd count down challenge. There are members from all five guilds as well as Cedrica. Kaliphlin Jaffar the Monkey Trainer The aristocracy of Kaliphlin likes their monkeys trained, might as well collect extra profit while I’m at it Pouri the Attendant Fanning the king is exhausting Sesur-hat the Scribe Drawing one map is fun, a dozen copies is not Varlyrio Drad the Deck Hand After two months at sea, I long for the harsh Wastelands Sofia the Back Stabber If the poisoned apple doesn’t work, the direct approach will Elias the Net Maker Mending nets is better on my back than reeling them in full of fish Mitgardia Thodil the Ice Cutter I don’t know why humans don’t get their own ice, mining it is much easier than mining rock Aðalgeir the Furrier Harsh winters create the best business Gjertrud the Snow Shoveler I’d give half my wage for a sunny day Avalonia Ailmer the Lumberjack 𝅘𝅥𝅮 I’m a lumberjack and I’m ok… Fanes the Farrier My work is all the separates you from the ground Neddi the Gardener If you step on my flowers once, you won’t do it again Nocturnus Mudgul the Miner At least there is no ghastly sunlight down here Ruak the Bone Craftsman I’m the best in the over and underworld Koglodzar the Slave Driver I can’t believe I get paid to do this! Cedrica Esther the Chambermaid You wouldn’t believe what the Queen did last night!

Guilds of Historica Collectible Minfigures: Homecoming Yes, I remember now... I don't know why, or if this is common, but I tend to forget where it all started. How I ended up doing what I do. But as I set out to write this topic, it came back to me. I think it was around 2014 that Guilds of Historica caught my eye. I'm sure it must have been one of the many awesome castle builds that guided me to this forum. I went over the New Member Guide, the Guild topics one by one, and saw the maps. And then I saw minifigures, unlike any I had seen before. Custom factions, armies, fantasy races, built from official lego pieces! Up to that point, my (teenage) creations were based on official LEGO themes, built to be populated by official LEGO minifigs. With Guilds of Historica, it all started to change. A new world opened up for me, a journey, and a place to belong. I started building custom figures myself, eventually a sigfig and his family, friends and foes, and joined the Guilds a year later. So looking back at it, the figures have always been there, sparking new builds and stories. Perhaps that's why I have this feeling of homecoming. Introduction by Exetrius Welcome to Historica, fellow adventurer! On my travels through this land, this mighty continent, I have seen many wonderful people, creatures and other beings. Of course I can't tell you about all of them, that would take days, weeks, months probably! But, don't worry: I have made a selection. Let me introduce you to some of those I have met, or heard about. From the cold North to the hot South, from the tumultuous East to the calm West, from the world above to the world below, and from places within to places outside the continent. Let's start with the four guilds on the continent, and Varlyrio. Mitgardia Magnus, Lord of Spróggefjell Keep "Staring at my armour isn't going to help you get through the winter, get to work!" Yffreya, wilderness hunter "A mercenary job? Sorry, but I don't hate humans that much. Do I look like I do?" Kaliphlin Madame Quarrat, mine owner "This deep pink sapphire came from the latest expansion. Work for me, and you might find one too..." Norri, badlands nomad "This is Bërtah, my favourite of the herd. She's a little shy around strangers, though." Avalonia Fiona, Mystic Isles messenger "It's mostly good news from Albion this time around, so I can afford to take the scenic route. You can join me for a while, if you like." Jerome, salvager-carpenter "You are leaving your old wagon in good hands, sir. And, on behalf of the trees in our forests, I thank you!" Nocturnus Pandemonium, 6th wizard of Zotharith "Yes I burned the town, got a problem with that? There wasn't a good soul in the whole rotten place anyway..." Umdurin, Vacunani scholar "If I'm not mistaken Volume 467 of the Recorin Orbi makes mention of such a tunnel exit. I'll check with the archives." Varlyrio Don Giullio, art dealer "100% genuine, for certain. This is a one-time offer: 13 silvers and it's yours." Rebecca, maid and assistant-chef "I'd love to chat, but the market will be closing soon. Later!" Outside of the Guilds, there is also plenty of interesting folk. Some of them I never met in person, for better or for worse... Ghost Islands of Yureishima Yoshintamaru Sasekageojima, Master swordsman "I see your spirit is fierce, but you lack technique. And away with those runes, they ruin the flow between you and the blade!" Miyuko of the Dawn, folk legend It is said that those who meet Miyuko die on the spot, and depending on her judgement either get sent straight to the realm of the dead, or are reborn from their former bodies. The Underworld Zugal defector and Demorian informant "The war really changed the Clan, you know. I tell you: flying up and down the Underworld is better than serving Raavage." K'sirtllhisqr, Drow mage "Where do you think you're going, surface critter? Trespassing this area is strictly forbidden, even for Drow..." Cedrica Sabrina, spoiled brat "Say hi to Marco, I got him for my half-year birthday! Hey, I'm not spoiled, you're just too poor to understand!" Lunarius the Formidable, archmage "A City of Magic, you say? Sounds like something I need to keep my eye on..." ---- And there you have it: 16 figures! I wasn't feeling very inspired from the beginning, but I had said I'd participate so I didn't go back on my word. I found a way to produce solid figures nonetheless. There are a number of little hints to previous builds or other references baked into the figs and their bios, tell which ones you like! I could do a breakdown later. Thanks for looking! Criticism welcome, hit me with all you got. @Henjin_Quilones I'm not going to keep this from you: Fiona with nougat skin and white elven hair looked glorious. For example as a Hesperian dragon rider. However, it just looked wrong next to the carpenter... Maybe a fleshie figbarf isn't all that unlikely anymore.

Chapter 13. Hideout Rotten and broken were the two words that came into mind the first time I caught eye of Glömt Torn - the forgotten tower. It stood fragile, exhausted. An ancient monolith from a previous time, wreathed in weed, mist and fog, like the last standing tombstone in a decaying and crumbling cemetery. Glömt Torn looked no better from the inside. If anything, it looked worse. No one had been here for the past hundred winters, and it had clearly been abandoned and claimed by nature, left to decay. The walls were blistered and mildewed, the wooden columns torn and pealing. Old, rusted chandeliers hung from a weak ceiling, cobwebbed and disused. Patches of black mold covered all the eye could see, covering the whole interior in one lengthy shadow, like darkness contained in a sealed jar. The walls felt wet to the touch, the air was chilled, and the damp made my skin itch and prickle. No living thing would ever feel warm in this place. We stood before the big and circular staircase that grew along the walls, looking around, speechless. “Big, isn’t it?” said Vekrod. None of us answered. ________ Louis of Nutwood

Tōrō Nagashi Temple of the floating lantern We are different from one another. Each guild is set in its own ways. Each part believes in certain tools, certain gods, certain values. But there is one thing that binds us all. In the end of every battle, expedition or course of life, our destinies are tied together, bound to reach the same destination. Death. It is upon each of us to deal with it and understand what is beyond. Are the final days... final? Mankind has struggled with these questions and yet, the absence of our loved ones haunts our nights. The fear of the inevitable is in our shadows. And it is always going to be. The ancient scholars of the Yureishima Islands have pondered over the matters of life and death for over 3000 years. Their findings were written in a collection of tales in an old, forgotten language, and buried under their shrines and monuments of worship. Stories of honor, happiness and spirituality are spread across the world, waiting to be found and passed on. Some of these writings have influenced each guild, and how each family faces the last moments of one’s existence. One tale, called Toro Nagashi, described the journey of a grieving girl that followed the lanterns in pursuit of her passed grandfather, only to find comfort in remembering his stories. Toro Nagashi gives name to the ritual of the Floating Lanterns, a ritual that honors the dead and makes us remember. The ancient writings were roughly translated and are depicted here below. ________ The dim light of her lantern faded in the distance against the dark canvas of the night, and a single tear found its way across her cheek, leaping and vanishing into the snow. Tōrō Nagashi. It was supposed to be beautiful, to honor the souls of those who have fallen. But it made her heart ache, for that floating lantern only reminded her that even the strongest, the wisest and the most caring, perish before the gods. “Follow the lanterns”, Ojīchan said moments before embracing his eternal sleep. But her light had long vanished along the mountains, taken by the blowing wind. That night, she woke to a distant whisper. And beyond the white veil that covered the world, she saw a distant glow cutting the stillness of the night. A delicate sparkle sliced its way between the trees, into the unknown. As if pushed by the old spirits, curiosity found her, and she followed. Beneath a sea of stars, a radiant glare danced and twirled among the leaves, while the girl, ever so proud, ran in its pursuit. The closer she reached, the weaker it got, and when the glow turned as faint as the last remaining star, she found herself where only her dreams could take her. A frosted spear pierced the night sky over a brilliant gloom. Behind a torii gateway, she realized she was staring at the work of the ancient gods, stepping into a sacred ground. Inside, only one lantern shone. But its gleam, reflecting under the red leaves of an old maple tree, was as bright as the sun. Under a frozen roof of red leaves, she stood beside the one lantern that cleared the night and heard the familiar voice of her Ojīchan say “Follow the lanterns” to fill the void she carried. Eyes shut, her knees dug in the snow, she gasped the frigid air and found her Kokoro. Mind, body, heart, and spirit were one, connected to the invisible force that binds us all. A warm embrace held her tight, and she was taken by all the memories that gave immortality to the living. Ojīchan would always be there. Always. She opened her eyes, only to see the distant light of her floating lantern, flying away, beyond the crops, the hills, the mountain peaks. Arigatō, Ojīchan ________ It is said that those who have gone, walk among us. We need only remember their stories so they will live forever in our every action. Once a year, to honor their deeds and remember their legacy, the guilds perform a ritual of gratitude, influenced by the Toro Nagashi tale. Fluglytka, they call it in high Mitgardian. Aflygum Beorht in high Avalonian. Fanuteayim in Kaliphlin, and Uccelli Galleggianti in old Varlyrio. Each person has its own temple, its own place of worship, a hidden place in our hearts to meet those who are gone. Find that dim light, as faint as it may be, and follow it. And you will find your temple, your gratitude, and your own place of comfort. So, we realize they are never truly gone. We need only... to follow the lanterns. Louis of Nutwood, A tribute to my grandfather Ojīchan (also known as Fiobvr, The Wise), who now floats beyond the frosty mountains of the North. ________ CDC2, Ancient Wonders for Mitgardia. Please comment. Would love to know what you think.

Quietude “Close your eyes for a moment and cherish the dark. Can you feel the warmth of the sun? Can you feel the gentle touch of the blowing wind? Can you feel the waves moving up and down, washing the sand and taking away all your worries? With eyes closed, stare into the horizon. Embrace your past and face your future. Know that what is done cannot be changed, only accepted. And what lays beyond is your destiny, waiting to be written. One step. One stone at a time. What do you see?” “I see a little farm. Pine trees in a distance. Apples and cherries as well. Horses galloping free. I see water. Running, falling, washing the land anew. I see a thin breath of air swirling up, dancing out of a chimney. The air smells of rosemary bread. I can hear the bells ringing with the stroll of a cow. Feels like home. And I cannot wait to go inside. Someone is expecting me. Someone I have missed for so, so long. I open the door. There is a woman by the heath, curled in a wool blanket. Next to her, a furry thing coiled like a pretzel. “Is it a chicken?” “No! It’s a dog!” “Aw. Who is she?” “The most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” Her big brown eyes glistened, reflecting the world painted gold. Staring at me, I saw beyond every mountain and every sea. I saw the future I would pursue with every heartbeat. Louis of Nutwood __________ Summer Joust, Category 12x12 Hope you like it. Skol!

Jelsa's Ice Castle A freebuild for Avalonia set in Mitgardia Far to the north in Mitgardia, at the edge of the Frozen Beyond (whether in the Frozen Beyond or just on the Mitgardian side is hard to say, as the cartographers are rather imprecise about that region), there is a small kingdom ruled by a kindly, though rather stupid, old king. His wife died many years before, and he spends his time playing with a sophisticated system of interlocking toys and trying to convince his only child, his spoiled and deeply loved daughter, that she should marry some prince. The daughter, Princess Jelsa, however, had other plans, and, since she is also a powerful ice witch, she froze every suiter her father brought to her. But one day, things went so far that she ran away to the back of the North Mountain and built herself an Ice Castle with her powerful ice magic. And there she stands, and there she will stay, unbothered by the cold. Cold hands, colder heart, they say. Unedited version: ______________ ............................. I built this for the Summer Joust's vignette category. It is, of course, Elsa's Ice Castle from Frozen, but I could not resist putting it into Mitgardia, where an Ice Princess seems to fit quite well. Jelsa, however, is a creation of mine for my (as yet unpublished) 10th Anniversary GoH CMF series: Consider this a sneak peek! Comments and criticism welcome.

Dragons are somewhat rare in Mitgardia, and while some are tamable, most are deadly if reclusive wild animals. The Western Large-Maw Wyvern species is known for eating deer, bear, and especially mammoth--putting its disproportionately large head and mouth to good use. While they typically inhabit the more remote mountains and foothills north of Erikson and avoid contact with humans, every now and then one of these winged fire-breathers is pressured out of its home range and become a hungry menace to the smaller villages in the country between Erikson, Falkidalr, Nordheim, and Northridge. It's good to build in the Guilds again! I actually started the dragon before even last year's CCC and had it almost complete back then but didn't finish it or build anything to go with it. The wing fabric was designed by me in FUSION360 and then laser cut. Totally a fantastic way to do this kind of stuff as opposed to trying to cut stud-sized holes with a leather punch or something and the outline with a rotary wheel and scissors--I tried that with a test piece, it's not fun and frayed edges are a thing. CAD makes relating all the features super accurate, even through the angles created by the hinges. More angles in the Flickr album. C&C is always good.

Not all of Mitgardia is covered in snow year-round! Outposts in the south near Avalonia usually experience four seasons every year and are considered particularly nice postings among the Guild's soldiers. Wow, I'm truly amazed this thing has been going for 10 years now! A couple more pictures are here. C&C always appreciated!

Ütoverögat Entry for GOH's Anniversary Challenge: Tower. (As always, a cup of warm beverage should go well with the following read. Enjoy!) High up in the cold mountain peaks of the white north, where the winds hissed and the storms blew, there was one rule that reigned above all: the rule of the stronger. Younglings were thought to embrace the snow, to cherish the blowing wind and to endure with a hollow belly. The ones who took those teachings by heart were most likely to survive the bleak environment of the vast and unexplored Frozen Beyond. Yet even those who grew a thick skin and sustained through nights of famine were subject to perish on the hands of wild beasts, raging diseases or lingering savage tribes. To survive meant to gather and form a family. For as a group, people were stronger, and for the group they fought not only for their own lives, but for the ones they have learned to share their lives with. There was one village, though, that contrasted from the rising communities. Instead of relying on fishing and agriculture, and establishing trade relations with neighboring families, they trusted on a different source of strength that was unknown to most. This village, called Völsung, was establish up in the North, somewhere past the last remaining road. In the center of a gorge, it was surrounded by two ebony cliffs of frozen black stone, where rivers have dried, trees did not grow, and no animal found reason to walk by. It was a dead land, buried under a thick mist and doomed to remain untouched, hidden from gods and men. But fat wooden towers, heavy timbered walls, and massive speared palisades appeared over time, indicating the entrance to an uninviting nest. It raised suspicion amongst the northern clans. After all, how could these people survive in the middle of nowhere, under an unstopping storm, without provisions from any of the known villages and apparently, without ever opening their gates? Everyone had questions, but no one dared speaking aloud. That same year, as all years past, just when the winds turned colder and the frost covered the crops, people were called to prepare for the time of shortage and ensure their comfort during days of blizzard. But that year, winter came in a flash. Faster and stronger. Even those accustomed to a life of clenching teeth felt tricked by the gods, for the blowing winds came without a warning and brought the thickest clouds and a lingering shadow that enforced an unending night over their homes. A darkness that took away their harvests, their sleep, their children. Everything. People cloistered. They hid themselves from the unnatural force they could only assume was cast by the gods and prayed their villages would not be chosen. Still, a small group of men set foot on the road with only their loved ones in mind, and blades in their scabbards to calm their disquiet. But this winter was different. They fought against time and nature to stock for a time of uncertainty. Yet they strove to understand a force that slipped from the grasp of reason. Fiobvr followed, as it was his duty, and prayed in silence in an unsettling farewell. “I’ll always protect you”, whispered the farmer to his family, facing the spreading clouds over the mountaintops. ... Fiobvr walked the lonely streets of the camp he knew so well, under a black mantel that covered the world. Starless skies swallowed his puzzling dreams and filled his chest with frozen air. The distant glow of a dancing fire revealed at least one man amongst all farmers and fishermen was awake. There was no doubt. He knew who it was, and therefore forced himself to think of scenarios in being summoned at this hour, while all others slept, meant a good thing. But no blessing came to mind. The lingering air inside the tent was thick and warm, and Fiobvr thanked the Gods for feeling the tips of his callused fingers once again. Leaning over a hardwood table, the figure of a man made of nothing but muscle, dwelled over a wrinkled map as his hair, clamped in silver rings hung over the world as a pendulum. His eyes turned to the woken farmer, briefly turned into a warrior, and a puff of air fled from his clenched teeth. “Gather your belongings and empty your tent. You will leave at first light,” said the chieftain from behind a thick beard. “You may form a group of men to accompany you, to make sure your travels are safe.” “All of my belongings, Lord?”, Fiobvr said puzzled. “Where should I leave to?” The Chieftain emptied his lungs and his head sunk between his broad shoulders, as his eyes wafted across the map. “A messenger was sent west to report on our families”. He paused, looking for words. “Many villages remain tall and strong. These have opened their gates to the neighboring families in need. Some other villages, though... had to be evacuated”. His finger drifted across the map and landed over a vast forest Fiobvr recognized in a heartbeat. There was a handful of friendly villages, and amongst them, Høydefür, the one village he knew more than any other. Home. His mind was filled by warm thoughts of Nyeda and his sisters, Phili and Teri. Yet, he shivered, conceding the arrival of the sudden winter, and realizing his task up in the cold mountains of the North was far from complete. “For all we know, Høydefür fell.” Are they safe? Fiobvr wanted to ask, but a sudden freeze grabbed his throat, and he could not find his voice. “Roligsfrakk is well provisioned, and I trust your family will find comfort by their heaths. But I reckon your sisters will feel safer in your presence,” said the warlord, his breath frosting in the dim light. His braided hair swung like a bell, from one side of the map to the other. Fiobvr followed. “The last group... they did not go west,” Fiobvr observed. But in truth, he did not need the reply. He was summoned in the middle of the night, not to bring distress. He was asked to leave before dawn, not to raise more speculation, he figured. That meant all he needed to know, and a sudden shudder raised to his collar. The chieftain’s eyes moved across the map up to the north, and stood over a neck, where two ridges met. The gorge. “Everything leads to the same place. The Frozen Beyond.” He grunted. “We can send men to protect the whole land. But until we understand what happens inside those walls... we and our families will live in fear, waiting for a shadow to swallow the sun and bury ourselves in the snow”. His eyes left the map and stared into the night beyond the cloth of his tent, as the candlelight danced in the silence. Rumors. Fiobvr heard all of them. People spoke of sorcery and Seidr magic. Of a blood-thirsty creature brought from the underworld that meandered with the winds. Of a whisper chanting in the storm. Of the return of the undead... Rumors. Nothing but rumors. That was what he kept telling himself. But truth be told, they haunted his sleepless nights. Because beyond the rumors, Fiobvr saw the villages with his own eyes. Dortvaenir, Khardun, Sjenervandt, once prosperous and full of life, were taken by the storm in a sudden, and were now sunken in the snow. Deserted. Taken by the dark shadows of an unknown strength, blowing from the North, and their people were nowhere to be seen. It all happened so fast! He knew the rumors, aye. But those were not the works of rumors. Those were something else. Fiobvr swallowed and struggled to find his voice. The image of empty cobblestone streets filled his mind and twisted his guts. The chieftain’s words echoed in his mind. “Until we understand... our families will live in fear.” “Aye. I’ll leave before dawn.” A distant glow burned the sky behind the cracked contour of the mountains, taking the night as the falling snow covered the footsteps of the Norseman marching into the frozen mist. ... Amidst the white fog and the cutting storm, the shadow of a structure, tall as a mountain, defied the cruel weather. From atop the wooden pillars flapped the green and golden banner of the northern folk, marking the final stretch of the world known to men. Ütoverögat. The last eye. Fiobvr stopped. His feet hiding in the snow, cloak flapping in the wind. Before reaching the arch of stone that divided the two worlds, he looked over his shoulder, beyond the path that brought him thus far. He glared beyond the mountaintops and the grey sky. Gazing deep into the past, he embraced the warmest of his memories, and begged for the spirits to guide his path. From this point on, what remained was the unknown of the Frozen Beyond. “I’ll always protect you,” he whispered once more, hoping to meet his family once again. ... ... Following chapter: Chapter II: Daemon's Throne ________ Louis of Nutwood For Mitgardia! Hope you all like it, and if you had time to read (thank you!), please let me know your thoughts. Skol!

The Goddess: Hel Entry for GOH's Anniversary Challenge: Tale. Before continuing, make sure to read the prequel, so it makes (more) sense: Chapter I: The Last Eye As always, a cup of warm beverage should go well from this point on. Enjoy! ... The road tightened between two ebony walls, lost among grey twisting clouds, and Fiobvr felt the need to breath deep and swallow his own freezing breath to make sure his chest would fill. At the bottom, where the parallel walls met the ground, two wooden towers erupted next to a long wall of black timber, and a small, almost hidden gate hailed unlikely wanderers. In its front, a set of spikes carved onto the ground, pointed towards the road, and reminded unwelcomed visitors to turn on their heaves. What once was a forgotten village, almost overnight, had become a stronghold secluded from the world they all knew. The gorge. A roar thundered, as the wind hissed and spit sideways defying the Norseman against a falling pit. Every move could mean a stumble and every stumble could be his last. Away from the dirt path, he walked unnoticed through the mountain, barely seeing beyond the fog. He climbed the ebony rock until he found a crack with a smooth surface and a canopy to protect from the storm, high enough for him to gaze inside the walls. And there he stood, deafened by an eternal whistle, watching the stillness of the gorge, where day and night were just the same, and no living person would pass by. Until one day, someone did. From the snow-covered path, among the clouds that drifted low over the ground, a figure covered in pelts appeared as if from nowhere. He led a small cart pulled by a scrawny mule. Its load tightened under a blanket. He stood by the gates for longer than one should and waited to be greeted. But as far as he could tell, no one was around. Not at the watchtowers, not at the clearing path, and not a glow of a lamp light was seen in the past days. For what he knew, the place was empty. Yet, lifeless as it was, a buzzling sound clang and the crackling of wood echoed along the corridor formed by the mountains. A small fissure cut the wooden walls, and the gates of Völsung yawned open. The cart rider dumped his load in the stronghold’s deserted patio. A dozen long and heavy sacks piled atop each other and rolled sideways on the snow. He dragged the sacks one by one, aligning them as a farmer prepares the land for a crop. Once all twelve sacks were displayed, he opened each, revealing twelve bare corpses that lay still on a cold white blanket. The man rushed to his cart and pulled the reins, leaving behind a trail of death. On a ledge on the face of the mountain, one man stood still, grasping for an understanding that did not come. But from beneath the wind, the storm, and the dancing fog, inside those walls, a faint orange light glistered at the base of the opposite ridge. What looked to be a wall of stone was turned into a hollow cloister inside the mountain. The faint light became brighter, and the silhouette of a person stood under the cold archway marking the entrance of a grotto. Its face was protected by a hood and a cloak clapped and flapped in the wind. A staff pierced the white ground as the person stood in front of the line of silent bodies. From inside the cave, ten, twenty, thirty men appeared carrying twelve wooden logs, cut, and scraped with perfection. Next to the corpses, those big chunks of wood were loosened. And as if moved by the same rhythm, like a dance they practiced over and over, all bodies were tied to the logs and lifted. Twelve pillars were pinned to the ground, pointing to grey skies, served as racks to the bodies, purple with cold that hung feet up and heads down, aiming at an empty bucked that trembled in the breeze. The hooded figure then lifted her staff and pressed it against one of the hanging man’s chest that bent inwards with a crack. A black whole twinkled when the staff was pulled, and a black viscous liquid slithered across the man’s chest and neck. It drifted, dividing itself upon reaching his chin and ears, consuming his expressionless face before dripping on the bucket beneath him. And soon, she had twelve buckets filled with the black liquor of death. All men walked back inside the cave, buckets in hand, as the woman followed. Her cloak flapping with excitement. She then stopped and turned, facing the pillars. As she opened her arms and bent her head to the sky, a glowing light kindled at the bottom of each pillar, fighting against the blowing ice with unfair advantage, for within a heartbeat, a small flare turned into a firepit that consumed twelve heads, twelve bodies, twelve men. Just as it all started, the raging storm swiped, taking Fiobvr from his feet. Icicles flew, cutting the air with the force of a thousand blades. A roar bellowed from the sky and made the world tremble when the warrior heard a voice whisper in his head. The storm washed the clearing with a new layer of untouched snow, finding its way across the tight walls of the gorge. And where once was a woman, now remained only the shadowed entrance of a cave. ... After two days tucked in a whole, up on the road, another cart appeared. The norseman left his post and moved behind the cart as it stopped by the piercing pikes and thick wooden walls of Völsung. As the rider waited on the thundering winds, Fiobvr sneaked under the cloth protecting the content, and waited in the dark, together with the cold remnants of his fellow northern men. A roar echoed through the gorge and the cart moved once again. Fiobvr closed his eyes and let himself be manipulated. Tossed, pushed, and dragged on the snow, he struggled to contain his grunts and shivers. And once the cart rider rode back to where he came, the warrior opened his eyes to see a line of twelve bodies resting on the ground, where he was the thirteenth. He shook the snow, ran, and ducked next to the entrance of the cave, praying he had remained unseen. Within moments, that faint orange light glistered from inside the cave once again, and an army of men walked out, followed by a woman. Her face was painted blue, and she held a staff ornamented with teeth and bones, dragging a line on the pale ground. Fiobvr was fast to sneak inside the cave. While he made his way past tunnels and wholes, the idea of a staff piercing his chest crossed his mind and a taste of metal touched his tongue. The snow dissipated inside the cave, and for a moment, the warrior felt lost under the faint glow of the torches. But beneath the dust that covered the ground, he noticed the weak markings of a trail. He followed. His steps echoed with the slightest move, and found himself in a room, where the air turned thick and warm, and the stone walls flashed like fire. A set of pillars held the ceiling from falling, and a set of steps, carved in the stone, led to an altar, where a thousand candles burned. But among the tinkling blaze and the muffled scent of smoke, a pile of bones intertwined and melded to form the throne of an unborn king. It was an ugly thing. Cracked bones made the throne’s arms, spines made the spindles, femurs made the uneven frame of the rails, and every inch made Fiobvr shiver with the sour taste of his stomach. Next to the throne, he saw a bowl made of rock. It was filled with a thick dark liquid that lay still and shone with the blaze of the candlelight. Fiobvr examined and thought of those men tied overturned in the open. But from the narrow entrance of the room, he heard the mumble of footsteps, and a faint glowing light swept the ground. He ran and hid behind a pillar, watching the room get smaller and smaller. The ground shook, and an army approached, moved by the power of one piece: the sorceress. Eleven buckets were emptied in the basin, and it drank the liquid with an unhuman thirst. The walls narrowed and a wind swiped. The deep echo of a voice, exulting in a feast sounded when the buckets filled the bowl, calming its belly, and pleasing its spirit. “Feed me”, it said in a deep voice that rang in the warrior’s chest. And as the twelfth bucket spilled its content, a drop cracked the surface and slithered to the floor. All men kneeled as the sorceress stood feet away from the basin and turned, staring at the twisted empty throne. Arms wide open, she bent her head to the ceiling and the white balls in her sockets glistered with the dancing light of the candles. She then uttered words he could not understand and struck her staff on the floor, when a cold wind swiped, darkening the room in an unbroken shadow, leaving behind a fumed scent. An empty silence prevailed. But the tinkle of a drop hitting the surface shredded the stillness of the void, followed by another drop and one further. And the gutting growl of a beast echoed in a slow demonic breather, confronting all men’s beliefs. A single candle kept its light, and under a faint glow he saw the throne was no longer empty. The sorceress hissed with a trembling voice and a few more candles lit, revealing what Fiobvr never though his eyes would see. Atop the altar, materialized what could only be the proof the Gods had turn their backs on the land of the living. For there stood a beast that was not living nor dead. A shadow drifted on floor and as it thickened, it formed the whiskered hooves of a goat, wrapped in a sinuous tail. Following its belt, it built the naked torso of a man. A layer of stretched skin covered the remnants of its pale flesh hanging from a whole amidst the broken bones of an opened chest. From atop his head, two horns twisted over edged ears. But those eyes... made of the piercing flame of the Ancient Ones, were soaked in angst and horror. They took every breath, every glimpse, and every soul. Two red eyes cut the dark, iced the room and filled it in dismay. “Look me in the eye and face your summoner”, the sorceress found her voice looking straight at the beast, as it muttered a visceral rumble like a starving animal. “Take me to your garden and open your gates to me, for now what divides our worlds apart... is no more” she shouted, as the beast roared and clamped its boned jaw. “Embrace me as your own and let us seek those who oppose our ways. Take me to an eternal life and let us rule the world from beneath the earth, from above the clouds and from between the winds”. She cried, as the candles raged across the room with a raging whistle. “Take my hand and I’ll raise as the Goddess of Life and Death!”. With open arms, she reached out her hand. The beast did the same as its cold fingers touched the woman’s flesh. Their fingers entwined and never parted. Beast and sorceress walked to the throne at the center of the room, as they revealed to the world their unity in a ceremony despised by the gods. The woman sat, chin up and spine stretched, as her smile glistered in the fire, and a soft voice reverberated once more: “My queen...”. With the flick of a candlelight, just as the spirit appeared, the cave was left in the dark, and both vanished in the air, into the underworld, leaving behind an empty throne made of bones. … Fiobvr found himself alone, walking through the dark tunnels of Völsung. He found its way out of the fortress, out of the fog, but his mind never left. Three days passed as he approached the flowing banners that marked the entrance to the village he knew so well. A hollow belly and the memories of a horned spirit loaded his thoughts. But the jittering and mumbling of wandering people, merchants shouting, and farmers farming was blurred by an unusual silence that made Fiobvr’s throat tighten once again. He led his hand over his chest, searching for a hole that he could not see, but swore was there. His hand lowered and squeezed the hilt of his sword as his feet sunk in the snow. There, where four familiar walls made of stone met, remained nothing but a colorful sea of distant memories fading with the white snow. Buried in the cold, the souls of a thousand loved ones searched for the rascal that inflicted their tragic fate. Two red eyes that would forever stare into Fiobvr’s dreams. Hel. THE END. ___________ Louis of Nutwood For Mitgardia! If you've reached this point, thank you so much for reading through. Please, let me know what you think of the build and the story. Skol!

Felt great to do building for a GoH challenge again! The tower style is largely based on my previous Harburg Castle, which is nearly 5 years old now. Crazy. And the roof is the same basic design, and you can find our tutorial for that here. Lord Karsten always makes it a point to personally inspect the various watchtowers situated around Harburg’s borders several times a year, and often Eryl or Elise accompanies him. Recently Historica has enjoyed a time of relative peace, but Karsten won’t let his men fall into carelessness. Few more pictures on Brickbuilt.

Previously: A New Post at Gammeltårn Party Supplies Perils Old and New Unsought but Welcome Out Through the Market Embarking Once Førstlys had disappeared in the distance, the wind caught their sails and the ship surged westward, slicing through the growing whitecaps and skipping over the deepening troughs between the swells. Their course carried them rapidly past the rocky southern coast of the Burial Isle, whose sloping hills soon grew to craggy peaks and towering cliffs. Throughout the afternoon they kept their distance from the increasingly jagged shore, for which Kjell was thankful, as the seas rolled more violently the further they sailed. He felt his nerves were tight enough just worrying about the waves, and wasn't sure he'd be able to worry about the mighty rocks against which they crashed as well. He and the other men said very little, each fighting his stomach (with varying success), while the gold-clad elves moved quickly and efficiently around them, seemingly unperturbed by the motion of their vessel. As the sun descended and lit upon the horizon, the old elf turned to his helmsman. "Vaikea olla oikealla." The helmsman shouted a few quick commands and, to Kjell's alarm, the ship wheeled about quickly and tacked rapidly to the north, directly towards the cliffs. He wanted to yell, but dared not open his mouth. In a matter of minutes the dark mass of the coast loomed before them, and to either side in the gathering twilight could be seen great sea rocks, jutting from the churning waves like gnarled fingers. Panic began to overtake Kjell; gone was the nausea, and in its place was the hollow fear that he might soon be swallowed by the endless, frigid darkness upon which they foolishly danced. Beside him the old elf was calm. Soon the foam of the mountainous swells, which relentlessly battered the rapidly-nearing cliffs, was all that could be seen in the dusk. The old elf raised his right hand before him, his left hand held to his chest, and quietly but clearly spoke, "Kuíave fōd thu luz." Out of the night a pale light shot across their path, illuminating the base of the cliffs in a blue glow, and beyond it the waves seemed to calm. Still, before the ship they yet surged, and the old elf turned once again and spoke to his helmsman, "Tee kaivoon, setten nomeasti vasemmalle." The ship shifted course slightly, cutting along a deep valley in the water. Kjell couldn't breath. The helmsman shouted again, they shot across the light onto smooth water, and immediately turned hard to port. They glided over the glassy surface, down a narrow aisle of water between the rock face and the luminous wall that held the raging sea at bay, and Kjell saw that the light progressed in a steady chain between the sea rocks. As they neared one, the dim light revealed that the wall issued from openings in a structure that was built into the landward side of the rock, hidden from any eyes that would dare to search from the Bay of Storms. Nearly as tall as the rock itself, the edifice towered over their ship as it passed. In awe, Kjell turned to the old elf and breathlessly asked, "What is this? Who built it?" Again, the slight smile played at the corners of the elf's eyes and he replied, "These are the Lánfadan. They were built in the long distant past by the Pinnothen, whose blood you share." Kjell could not summon a response so, unprompted, the elf continued, "They were a great students of the world about them, observant of the flow of energy through the earth, trees, and sky, and were insatiably curious. They soon mastered the ability channel that energy, direct it as they desired, and bend it to their considerable will." "They quickly became renowned as master builders and craftsmen, and a formidable force on the field of battle. Even among the mightiest of kingdoms in the land, the most prudent rulers chose to offer generous terms of allegiance." "But if they were so mighty, what became of them?" asked Kjell. "Unrivaled might is its own greatest threat," the elf replied. "With no opponents to face beyond their borders, the Pinnothen turned inward. Princes coveted the power of kings, and the wars that brother waged against brother all but destroyed them. But that, I think, is a tale for another night..."

Mitgardia is home to a diverse range of inhabitants, and each and every one of them has a place they call home. Whether that be dwarven halls, norse cottages, elaborate castles, orc strongholds, or any other personal dwelling. Dwellings of Mitgardia Community Build Open to all Mitgardians, here is a new community build to encourage the development of Mitgardian dwellings across our mighty guild. Task: - Build a home for your character, or another Mitgardian citizen - No minimum or maximum size - Any scale allowed (micro, minifigure, etc.) - Interiors are encouraged, but not required - There is no limit on the number of dwellings you can create - Post a link to your completed builds here Award: Each dwelling will be added to a illustrated index in this post to serve as inspiration for future Mitgardian builds, and also to give a good idea of the sorts of dwellings found in Mitgardia. Also, completing a dwelling will earn you the title of Citizen of Mitgardia. Example builds (from Book II): Index:

Previously: A New Post at Gammeltårn Party Supplies Perils Old and New Unsought but Welcome Out through the Market The quay was crowded with sailors and merchants who hurried between the boats, barges, and ships at dock. Smaller craft suited to the plying the island's rivers had nestled into the berths along the outer wall of the structure, while the seaworthy vessels were docked in the dredged-out depths of the inner harbor. The air was filled with shouting and laughter in countless tongues, and wares in all manner of boxes and caskets were piled all about. The Lord of Førstlys and his second son, Kjell, accompanied by Ulrik Dunwald and trailed by a small retinue of guards, forged their way through the bustling throngs. At the end of the quay they passed through the sturdy bastion that served as customs house, watch tower, and lighthouse, and out once more into the autumn sunlight. Beside the pier lay a ship unlike any they had ever seen. Brilliantly white and glistening with gold, it was larger than even the great Kaliphlian dromons that had sought shelter in the harbor during the Elemental Crisis, all those years ago. Before Kjell could find words to remark on the sight before them his father had hurried onward to the elf. The mysterious visitor, who had promised passage across the impassible seas that guarded the southern coast of the Burial Isle, strode forward to greet the approaching men. "My friends," he said, offering an outstretched hand, "the hour is upon us. Let us make haste, that we trade not kind winds for long farewells." Kjell's father took the elf's hand and spoke solemnly. "I fear that I shall never show you the true depths of my gratitude. Though perhaps fortune will yet favor me, and you shall grace our halls again ere the end of my rule. At that time I shall certainly try." The elf smiled and bowed his head, then turned and swept down the gangplank. The Lord of Førstlys turned to Kjell and placed an arm upon his shoulder. "My son, may the gods guard your footsteps and their wisdom guide your hand. Bring your cousin home." "As you will father," Kjell replied. He bowed, turned, and, followed closely by Ulrik, boarded the ship. The crew of elves moved deftly to cast off and set sail, and soon the quay was shrinking across the widening water. As Kjell lost sight of his father amid the teeming shadows and forms of an increasingly distant Førstlys, a wave of fear and resentment washed over him. He hated the formality and decorum that kept him from embracing his father in the face of uncertain fate, and he hoped with all his heart that that had not been the final farewell that they would share.

Chapter 1 is there, Chapter 2 is here Chapter 3 Once, Ava left our house to scratch one more name from his list, it was the sixth or the seventh. Well, I can't remember well, it was so far from now... He left after borrowing a carriage from a neighbour of ours. He was supposed to come back within three days, however after the fourth day, he was still missing... When he reached home again on the sixth day, he told us that on the way back, he had a problem with an axle of the carriage and had to stop in the nearby town with a stable where the smith can repair. He didn't want to give back the carriage with a wheel broken... The village where he stopped is not so far from here and is well equipped. The stable even have an attic where they can store the hay surplus. Extract from the memories of Achille, woodman of Mitgardia You surely recognise the roof technic... Please do not hesitate to comment. I clearly need to improve the backwall (not pictured), but it will have a special thread on it later. I am still missing pieces so I "filled" more than really build it. Thanks to the medieval forge, I can now start build a little more... The textures is also a focus I need to have in future build. I will try to improve this one if he survive my kid play test. The awning is very fragile because I added it after building the left part of the stable... I was about to rebuild but it hold so I didn't touched it finally. I like the drinker for the horses but I find it a little crude. In the end, I would like to propose it for the phase 2 of stable for the Age of Mitgardia event.

Introduction : Sigrid's journal "We were called to a meeting with the other village leaders yesterday. Jarl Elisif wanted us all to know about the victory at the Enchanted Forest. Of course, the word had already spread, and everyone was already talking about how Jarl Thimolir's bear cavalry saved the day. After months of tensions, even the most ardent sceptics now seem to veer to the side of the Queen. And that's great news. Instead of worrying about a possible war, we can now hope for peace. Instead of focusing on arming and training our people, I can now step back and also plan for the long term. It's time to rebuild Horgaard." In order to assist my sigfig's efforts to rebuild her village, I'm going to build a mead hall. And given that this is the first time I'll build such a MOC, I expect a lot of thinking, a lot of trial and error, and a lot of time. During the months by the housewarming hallwarming party, here is the thread where I'll track the progress of the construction and all the thinking behind. History Chapter 1. What could it look like? Chapter 2. Of roofs and doors Chapter 3. Woodworking Chapter 4. Construction delays Current state

This is my entry for this year's Summer Joust, in the "Every Set Could be a Castle Set" category. It's a castle-ification of Friends set 41391 Heart Lake City Hair Salon - and a freebulid for Mitgardia as well as an Age of Mitgardia House II entry here in GoH! _______________________________ As a Dwarven barber, Per Wilkinsson had always considered that facial hair was a matter of utmost importance. A silky, impeccably plaited moustache showed off high social status in a tasteful, distinguished way. A disheveled, bushy beard indicated more than just a lack of elegance. He had been apprentice to the best barbers in Omurtag, had obtained the repected title of Master, and had learned all the arcane secrets of his art. He was at the very peak of his career when his wife unexpectedly inherited a significant mining concession in some remote, backwater corner of the Heavenly Mountains. And she decided they would move there. A simple life and the jolly atmosphere of a familial mine, away from the vicissitudes of the bustling city - that's what she suddenly wanted for their children. Undaunted, Per decided he would open his own barber shop there, civilize the local savages and bring them the light and benefits of proper beard grooming. _______________________________ As usual, a few more information of plants and animals is included in the hidden section below! And, also, a comparison with the source set.

Previously: A New Post at Gammeltårn Party Supplies Perils Old and New Unsought but Welcome The autumn sun had nearly reached its zenith as Kjell and his father made their way from the stronghold and down to Førstlys' harbor. Avoiding the prying eyes of the High Road, they took the Watchman's Way and picked a path through the bustling Lower Market. "Father, know that I do not question your judgment, but I must know why you entrust me and my task to this envoy," Kjell pressed as they walked on. "You speak as though you are old friends, though I have never heard his mention." His father was slow to respond, pacing deliberately through the crowd with his guard behind him. "When I was young, perhaps not even half your age, we hosted this very same elf in our halls. He spoke little of his origins, though he told many tales of our own island, as if he had lived several lifetimes upon our shores already. During his short stay he taught my siblings and me to read books and scrolls from my grandfather's library that even our most learned scholars could not decipher, and he showed my father and me many of the island's secret and forgotten places. He was among us for but a few seasons, and then, quite abruptly, he departed and did not -until this day- return." "So why return now and entangle himself in our domestic affairs? While I am grateful for his aid, I am loathe to let a new friend fight our battles for us with so little a commitment of our own strength." Kjell grumbled, his legs aching to reach their destination with more urgency than his father would allow. "As he told us earlier, he believes that this domestic affair aligns with his own task, and coincides with his purpose in returning to these shores," his father replied. "Though, as to our commitment, fear not my son. Some of your compatriots returned from their ranging this morning, and have volunteered to join you in relieving your cousin. Ah! Here comes one of the very same hardy fellows!" The lord of Førstlys halted and waved as a tall, swarthy, mail-clad man cut a path through the crowd, his heavy grey cloak billowing behind him. Kjell recognized Ulrik Dunwald and his confidence swelled. It would truly be a boon to have a company of Skygger at hand. Ulrik reached them, stopped, and offered his sword as a sign of fealty. "My lord, I am yours to command!" Kjell's father inclined his head in acknowledgment, and Ulrik turned to Kjell. "My captain, it has been to long since my Shadows and I have ridden at your side. We are happy to do so once more." "And I am happy to have you at my side, old friend," Kjell replied, offering an outstretched hand. "Then let us make haste," Ulrik exclaimed. "Glory, and a ship, await!"

Tales of Valnötstrad Svart Dyr, The Black Dragon “The man stormed into our village as a sudden summer rain. His clothes were ragged, torn, and burnt, and his sunken eyes showed what could only be described as fear in its most visceral state. Before he could mumble a word, we knew the tale. We knew the threat. How could we not? His town was the third to be attacked since last we saw the full moon. Soon, there would be no other villages left untouched, and ours was just as exposed. The man pointed to the setting sun, indicating the beast went west, where the dirt path led to the wetlands. We gathered our spears, packed our shields, and bid our loved ones farewells. Our feet sank with every step, and when the dirt path turned to mud, we heard the roar of a thousand demons, drifting among the woods. The party divided to flank whatever it was we would encounter until we reached a clearing. And there, we saw it. Its meandering tail, its thick skin made of leather, its long neck that could reach the sky. From its end, yellow fiery eyes showed no recollection of a soul, but the primitive drive of a starving animal. He opened his pale wings and embraced the water, the trees, that small group of once brave, diminished to nothing but frightened warriors... Hell, it took the whole swamp. Its belly shone and its teeth glistered with the blinding light of its breath. The cold wind became a scorching wave of flames that took our brothers and our courage in a heartbeat. But with my last sigh of hope, I grabbed the shaft of my spear and threw it at the beast. The spear hissed, cutting wind and flames before it cut the dragon’s flesh and landed on its chest. A demonic shout made the trees tremble and our hearts burst. With an impulse, the monster flapped its wings and flew away, leaving behind a hint of faith: a trail of red blood. Svart Dyr, the Black Beast is what we called it. That night, we did not kill it. It is a tale for another night. But that was the night we knew we could.” By Fiobvr the Wise, my grandfather. Louis of Nutwood ______ Built for CCCXVIII, Medieval Monster Menace Category. Hope you all like it. Would love some feedback.

Chapter 1 is there. Story of Ava, chapter 2. It took him several years to scratch all the names on the list... He went through all Mitgardia to "complete" his list as he used to say... He came back from one of his travels and told me that he got the final clue to reach the destination of his quest thanks to a young girl. She was only six... I didn't asked how he got this clue. As usually, he stayed one or two days before leaving again... When he left our house for the last time, he explained us confusedly that he now knows where the source of all his problems lies. He can now face and destroy it. The vortex is now reachable in the ruins north of Arnarvhall. He turned back and it was one of the lasdt time we see each others... Extract from the memories of Achille, woodman of Mitgardia Comments are welcome of course. :-) I am still struggling with pieces... The vortex needed to be improved but I didn't found how.