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  1. Sibard Harthsol trudged through the miserable morning snow. The sun was rising over the tall Mitgardian peaks, painting the fields golden. Despite the beautiful scene that lay before him, Harthsol's thoughts were as damp as his boots. He was beginning to believe that his master (the mighty and true ruler of all Historica Lord Raavage) had lead him on a wild goose chase. Sending him to this barren, cold, miserable land to die alone. He tried to remember his masters command but he could only gather fragments. Something about dwarves and pies. Harthsol shrugged his shoulders, anything would be better than this bloody snow, what he would give to be back at home in the swamp with a good barrel of rum. His thoughts started to wander until he spotted a spire of smoke. Hoping that it meant the end of his journey he headed towards it. When he had finally reached his destination he found out it was in fact a small dwarven village. Before he had even passed through the gates a booming voice met him. "Welcome captain Harthsol, to the beautiful village of Awsder." A large (for dwarven standards) dwarf strode towards Harthsol. He was built like a barrel, his long red plaited beard fell over his chest plate. He pulled Harthsol into a hug and gave him a pat on the back, leaving Harthsol winded. "Come in, come in, My name Is Brofendur Fuhnt and I am honored to have a man of Lord Raavage in my village. I am sure that our pies will exceed your standard, after all, we all know Mitgardians make the best pie." Harthsol laughed in his head, Mitgardians and pies? The thought was hilarious, yet Harthsol replied with a nod and followed him into the village, wondering what sort of 'pies' the dwarves had conjured up. Brofendur lead him on a winding path, through rows of crooked houses. As they walked Brofendur continued to ramble on about how to make the best pies, although Harthsol was too tired to listen to what properties fyhe root possesses. "Fhye root can make the pastry extremely flame proof..." Harthsol checked the sun, about midday he guessed. "...which can certainly help when a pie is being heated..." A pub caught Harthsol's attention, well he know where he would be spending the.. " a dragon" That stopped Sibard Harthsol in his tracks. "A dragon?" Harthsol spluttered "yes a dragon, i'll show you" Brofendur told him as if it were not at all unusual. He lead Harthsol to a small balcony over a large pit, and sure enough there was a dragon. Its black scales glinting in the sunlight. Dwarves milled around the working area, carrying ingredients and working on new recipes. Brofendur saw the nervous look on Harthsol's face and laughed. "You don't have to be scared of her, we have guards keeping her at bay at all times" "With those little toothpicks?!?" Harthsol asked, terrified. "oh well, better that then nothing eh, anyway she's a vegetarian so you've got nothing to fear" I sighed, it wasn't the most relaxing thought but it was more comforting know that you weren't going to be eaten any time soon. "so why do you need a dragon?" Harthsol questioned, wondering why in the world they had a dragon. Well the bigger the pie, the bigger the oven. And since we make very big pies we needed a very big oven. so I thought 'why not use a dragon?', so we did." Brofendur told me. "would you like to try some?" Harthsol felt his stomach rumble, "Of course" he replied, his mouth dribbling already. A fresh pie, recently cooked hung on a crane. It was lowered and then eventually carried by six dwarves up to us. Brofendur cut a large slice and offered it to Harthsol which he greedily accepted. The pie was the best he had had in a long while, stuffed full of meat and cooked to perfection. "This Is amazing" Harthsol managed through bites of pie, "but you know this is a enchanted pumpkin pie contest, not a meat pie contest right?" "Of course" Brofendur replied, "we added a little bit of pumpkin for flavoring and as for being 'enchanted' I guess there is a little magic in the making so..." "Eh" Harthsol shrugged his shoulders "good enough for my standards, anyway, I doubt they care that much." "Well that's good because I almost thought I might have to bribe yo..." "Now before we finish up here I need you to answer a couple of questions" Harthsol interrupted "first off, where are the ingredients from?" As our mountain is too cold to grow ingredients we order only the finest pastry from the furthest reaches of Kaliphin. As for the meat, That comes from the most tender beef farms of the isolated isles of Isaile, located in eastern Avalonia." "Good, good, what about your work place condition?" "We keep a clean work area with a nonalcoholic policy" Brofendur told me proudly. The work place looked clean enough but Harthsol did not think the nonalcoholic policy was enforced enough by the look of the drunk sagged behind a couple of barrels. "Well thank you for your time Mr Fuhnt, I will tell my lord to expect you at the official judging of the pies and long live Lord Raavage." "Thank you captain and long live Lord Raavage, the true king of all Historica." Brofendur's kitchen by Jed cameron, on Flickr Brofedur's Kitchen Brofendur's kitchen by Jed cameron, on Flickr Brofendur and Harthsol on the balcony and Kaliphin merchants. Brofendur's kitchen by Jed cameron, on Flickr The dragon (with light brick on) A lot of Blood (not really), sweat and tears went into this. It is by far my most complex moc yet and really really dodgy. You see, this moc took a little fall off my desk. When I put the chunks back together I found: A. the base was uneven and the whole thing was on a slight lean. B. I couldn't stack the bricks tightly together since it would risk breaking the rock work. Despite this I carried on and eventually built my best moc yet (In my opinion). This week (about a month ago now) has also been incredibly busy for me, With my show I was in ending, school finishing for the holidays and my birthday (10 years with Lego :D). As always c&c welcomed and hope you enjoy. Sorry I had to use a sheet, it was too big for my normal layout.