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Found 6 results

  1. Full Plate

    Casualties of War

    Casualties of War Chapter I: The Tranquil Meadow Chapter II: Old Bagshaw's Residence Chapter III: The Poacher Chapter IV: Making Camp Chapter V: Solitary Council Chapter VI: Escaping Home Chapter VII: Waylaid Chapter VIII: Archery Practice Chapter IX: Honour the Fallen Chapter X: Casualties of War Bonus Landscape: Avalonian Countryside - 'I don't see why we can't just make camp like usual', Harlon argued. 'Never had anything good coming from meddling with the locals.' - 'That's because you treat common people like dirt', objected Nyle. 'People don't generally want to help anyone that thinks of them as a nuisance. If you could just play nice for once we might even have a shot at some nice homecooked food and some indoor sleeping.' Sir Darby didn't quite share Nyle's optimism. Like Harlon, he preferred to not involve more people than necessary when on the road. But he was also conscious that Nyle might be needing a break from everything, if only for one night. - 'Well, it won't hurt to ask', he stated. 'Why don't I go over and check if anyone's home and if they happen to have some spare food and perhaps someplace to sleep?' - 'I'm coming along', Nyle stated. - 'Fine. I'll just stay here so my unpleasant personality doesn't ruin your prospects', Harlon said wryly. - 'You do as you please', Nyle replied and urged his horse towards the small cottage. Sir Darby sighed. Somehow, getting these two to get along seemed harder than keeping up the morale in a camp full of soldiers. - 'We will be right back', he told Harlon and moved to catch up to Nyle. As Sir Darby and Nyle approached the cottage an old man came out to meet them. Sir Darby could also spot a younger woman in the doorway, peeking out at them with a worried expression. Sir Darby dismounted. - 'Evening sir. We are travellers on our way to Newquay. We were wondering if you might...', Sir Darby started. - 'No, we do not', the old man interrupted. Sir Darby took a moment to recover from being cut off. - 'All we're asking is...', he continued. - 'But you're not asking, are you?', the old man interrupted again. 'You are obviously men of importance, and men of importance never ask men of no consequence like me for anything. You demand and you take.' Sir Darby assessed the situation. There was obviously nothing for them to gain here and they should head back and look for a proper campsite. Still, he felt himself sympathise with this old man. Anger and hurt were no strangers to Sir Darby, though it was long since he had let them touch him - a man in his position could not afford to. Yet these feelings were clearly recognisable on this man's face. This house had experienced loss, most likely on the battlefield in service of Avalonia. Probably the husband of the young woman peering out at them, which would make it the man's son or son-in-law. - 'I'm sorry for your loss', Sir Darby offered. The man's face betrayed a short moment of surprise, before pain and determination again took over. - 'What does that do for us?', he asked sternly. 'Is that going to bring our family back to us? Men like you came and took my son away without warning! One moment we were plowing the fields and the next I watched him march off in a long row of dirty young men.' The man continued. - 'Would that all you did was take something away from us though, but your pack of filthy recruits brought something to us as well. The plague.' The man began to tear up. - 'My wife caught it, but she didn't tell me, and I was too busy making up for my son's absence at the farm to notice. Then one day she showed me her blackened foot and told me she had to leave. I told her she couldn't leave, that we should go see Mr. Oates, that he would help us. She agreed, but the next morning when I woke up, she was gone. Gone, never to come back. In a matter of weeks our family had destroyed, and for what? For you to have one more person to throw away in your little game of war?' The old man sighed, the anger giving way to dejectedness. - 'In the beginning we held out hope that Thom might return, but months turned to years, and we knew he was not coming back. Not that anyone had the decency to tell us, but we knew. When I saw you coming I thought that maybe... maybe we would get word of what had happened. To have confirmed what we already know. But you are just another person here to get something from us. I'm sorry, but all that we could possibly give has already been taken away from us. You took it from us. We have nothing left.' Sir Darby looked at the man for a moment. There was nothing he could do for him. His son might even have been under his own command. Perhaps he had sent him to his death. He had had a number of Thom's serving under him, but there was no way to tell if it had been this man's son. He could not offer him the closure that he needed. One thing he knew though, that he was responsible for this man's suffering. Perhaps not directly in this case, but how many more like him were suffering for the choices he had made as a commander? In this moment, that burden weighed heavier on his shoulders than it had ever done. Sir Darby mounted his horse and started back to Harlon. Nyle followed suit. - 'Life has dealt you a poor hand', he thought to himself. He was not sure whether he was referring to the man or himself. *** Been quite a while since I last built for Avalonia, but the Swedish Lego Maffia gave me an offer I couldn't refuse, so here I am ;) Seriously though, I have had this cottage (minus the roof) standing around for over a year, trying to figure a good way to make thatch for the next episode in this story line. It finally clicked about a month ago, and so here is the finished product. Feeling a bit rusty with the story telling, but whether it's good or not, writing is fun :) Ironically for such an old build, I actually ended up having a deadline for its completion as the LEGO Store in Copenhagen wanted to display it, so a few details that could have used some extra work had to be left as is. Hope you enjoy the build either way :) Happy to be back in any case!
  2. Full Plate

    Honour the Fallen

    Honour the Fallen Chapter I: The Tranquil Meadow Chapter II: Old Bagshaw's Residence Chapter III: The Poacher Chapter IV: Making Camp Chapter V: Solitary Council Chapter VI: Escaping Home Chapter VII: Waylaid Chapter VIII: Archery Practice Chapter IX: Honour the Fallen Bonus Landscape: Avalonian Countryside Nyle added another stone to the pile and started looking around for another. - 'I think that is probably enough', he heard Sir Darby's voice behind him. Nyle looked down at the pile of rocks. Maybe it didn't need any more, but Nyle didn't want to be done. He bent down to pick up a small pebble and threw it on the heap. - 'Kipp wouldn't care about the size of his cairn', said Harlon. 'He always lived in the moment, and now his moment is over. Just let him go.' Nyle imagined that comment might have earned Harlon a stern glance from Darby, but he knew it was true. This was all for him. For him to make peace with losing his brother. Nyle took one of Kipp's swords and wedged it into the cairn. It took him a while to get it to sit sturdy, but eventually it stuck. He then proceeded to tie Kipp's cape to the handle. The wind caught it a bit, giving it a small flutter at the edge. Nyle thought back to his childhood days. Kipp had always been the strong confident big brother who always knew how to handle every situation. He had always felt safe knowing Kipp was around. And then, Kipp had gone off to war. He clearly remembered the misty morning, seeing his brother pack his horse, and then flashing him a smile, ensuring him that things would be ok, before riding off. Nyle had been devastated for days. The colors had gone out of the world and the food had tasted bland. That feeling of being left behind, it was the same feeling he had right now. Kipp had left him behind. Again. - 'What do I do now, Kipp?', Nyle whispered to himself. 'The only reason I'm here is because you were going. I wanted to learn from you. To be like you, the Great Kipp. But mostly, I didn't want to be left behind again. And now I'm standing here, and you are gone. What do I do?' Harlon sighed. - 'How long is this going to take?', he asked. - 'He needs his time. He's not used to this', Darby replied. - 'Clearly. But we should get moving. Someone is clearly after us, and I'd feel much better to be one in the crowd in Newquay.' Darby didn't share Harlon's worries about the assassin, and neither did he think that life in Newquay would be much of an improvement to their current situation. But at least there would be some answers at their destination. For better of for worse. - 'Why did Kipp even bring him along? Now we will have to babysit him all the way to Newquay, and probably even after we arrive.', Harlon continued. Darby looked over at Nyle. - 'Yes, he is as green as they come, but if memory serves right, you have made confident soldiers out worse. Remember Tane?' Harlon smirked. - 'Yeah, I wouldn't do that again for anything.' Harlon drew a deep sigh. - 'But maybe you are right. We could make a man of him yet.' - 'We can at least try. But you are right, it is time to get going' - 'Nyle, we have to go', said Sir Darby. 'Me and Harlon will go and prepare the horses. Say what you need to say and get ready to leave. Sir Darby and Harlon started to make their way back through the fields. Nyle watched them leave. - 'Can I do it, Kipp?', he asked. 'Can I be you? The strong, confident warrior that everybody looks up to. I'm scared. Were you scared too? Heading out to battle not knowing what to face?' There was no answer. Nyle would have to figure this out by himself. His brother could not help him out anymore. It was up to him from now on. - 'I will be keeping your other sword', he said. 'Hopefully I can do it justice. Goodbye brother.' Nyle turned around and started making his way through the field back to camp. *** Been a while since my last GoH post now, but I certainly enjoy building in Avalonia :) This build was actually the result of taking the four corner modules for another, slightly bigger, build I'm working on and then adding the center greenery (plus the token tree of course ;)) to fit my GoH story. The grain technique is obviously very parts intensive and time consuming. I would have liked to make it even thicker, but ran out of tan bars. Gotta get more bars ;) The transition from grain to grass became a bit too abrupt and looks a bit unnatural. The planned build will have a stone wall or a fence as a divider so it should hopefully look better. Also, I might change the soil to be all dark tan rather than a mix of dark tan and reddish brown. Thanks for watching :)
  3. Full Plate


    Waylaid Chapter I: The Tranquil Meadow Chapter II: Old Bagshaw's Residence Chapter III: The Poacher Chapter IV: Making Camp Chapter V: Solitary Council Chapter VI: Escaping Home Chapter VII: Waylaid Chapter VIII: Archery Practice Chapter IX: Honour the Fallen Bonus Landscape: Avalonian Countryside Mercy paid full attention to her surroundings as she was walking down the road. It was a peaceful countryside landscape with ripening fields and green meadows. She was alone on the road, which was probably for the best, as her seemingly leisurely stroll was full of dark intentions. She knew her prey was heading here, but would still be a few hours away, giving her plenty of time to scout the road for a good spot. She stopped on the road in front of an old, derelict stone shed. There was plenty of cover around the building, which was to her benefit. Not that she would ever use a position that close to the road, but it would make it less obvious where the shot came from. She turned and looked out over the field on the other side of the road. Beyond the field was long ridge running parallel to the road. It wasn't particularly high, but high enough that climbing it was out of the question. It was very far from the road though, making it very hard to land a shot from there. That suited Mercy just fine. - 'If it's hard shot, no one will expect it', she thought to herself. Mercy had made plenty of difficult shots in the past, and she could do it again. Not that she cared about making difficult shots. People in her business who tried to show off did not last long. People hired her for reliability, and that's what they got. The less fancy the better. An assassin who could be identified by their style, equipment or anything at all, was not worth their salts. But when a hard shot was the superior option, Mercy would not back down from it. - 'Well, better get going', she told herself. It took Mercy the better part of an hour to make her way up to the ridge and prepare a spot for herself. As she was done she gave the site around her another glance. Everything seemed to be in order. She had prepared the place where she would be lying, it should be comfortable enough for a few hours of wait. She had trimmed the bushes around her to allow for unencumbered and quick escape. Her crossbow was loaded and ready, and so was the spare, although she knew she wouldn't need it. It had been years since she last missed a shot. - 'Might as well get to work', Mercy thought to herself. She lay down in the pile of leaves she had prepared for herself, supporting herself on her arms and elbows. Now started the waiting game. It was another hour before the party came into view. It was four men travelling on horse, but Mercy was only to take out one of them. The man riding first would be instantly recognised as Sir Darby by most people who had spent time in Albion. A slight legend from his time on the battlefield and generally well-liked among the commoners due to his low birth. He was not her mark however. Neither was the second man, a stern black-haired man, who Mercy knew only as Sir Darby's second-in-command. Mercy didn't like him. People who were hard to read, usually had something to hide. The last two were both red-haired men. Similar features, but Mercy read them as completely different types of men. The first had the look of a veteran despite his obvious youth. A confident, care-free man with a smile on his face. Mercy didn't like him either. Confident men needed to be taken down a peg. Coming up last was what seemed like a sorry excuse for a man. He looked scared for no apparent reason and he didn't seem too stable in his saddle. Mercy had no idea why he would be travelling with seasoned soldiers and she didn't really care much. - 'Once I'm done I probably won't see any of you again', she tought. Mercy's instructions had been to assassinate one of the riders, but not Sir Darby himself or his second-in-command. This was the first time she had ever been offered a choice of target, and it actually annoyed her. Taking someone's life was not a matter that was to be left to chance. People hired her because she was the best, and she delivered exactly what was requested. But when it was not clearly specified she felt slightly lost. Deep down, though, she knew the real reason she was upset was because someone was going to die based on her decision. That was not the way it was supposed to be. She was an instrument of death, but not the initiator. She was just implementing somebody else's choices, and though she didn't like to admit it, that made a difference to her. - 'Your assassin daughter has a conscience - aren't you happy Mum?' she thought to herself wryly. Mercy took careful aim at the veteran redhead. - 'Sorry' she whispered as the crossbow string twanged and the bolt flew toward its mark. Sir Darby was enjoying the scenery. Rural landscapes and ripening crops was certainly more to his taste than bustling cities and high society. Out here he felt free and he enjoyed every second of it. As he took a deep breath of the fresh air, a flicker on his right caught his eye only to be followed by a low thud behind him. Sir Darby knew what he would see before he even turned his head, although he sorely wished he'd be wrong. Sir Darby was not wrong. Kipp had a wooden bolt sprouting from his throat. His face was screaming, but made no sound. His horse was rearing out of control. Sir Darby had seen enough bloodshed in his days to know that this was it for Kipp. He was losing a friend, but he could not let emotions get a hold of him right now. Assessing their situation was paramount. Sir Darby saw Harlon and Nyle dismount, but for different reasons. Nyle carelessly ran up screaming to his brother who had now fallen to the ground. This was pretty much what Sir Darby would have expected of him. Harlon dropped down to take cover behind his horse. Sir Darby thought that pretty pointless. The danger was over by now. If this ambush was meant to kill all of them there would have been a barrage of arrows headed for them simultaneosly. No, this was a flawless, precise, single shot, serving some specific purpose. But what purpose? Sir Darby needed to locate the assassin if he was to understand the reason behind this attack. The bolt had certainly come from their right, from the fields. But beyond the fields was a steep ridge, and such a skilled assassin wouldn't let himself be trapped in a field with no escape. No, the shot must have come from the ridge itself, although that was an exceptional distance away. Sir Darby quickly scanned the top of the ridge for anything that stood out. There was nothing there. Except... in that one spot the vegetation seemed lighter than elsewhere. Intentional or not, that would be the position for an ambush. Sir Darby kept his gaze intently on the spot, focused on catching any hint of the assassin's presence. It had only been a few moments since the first shot, so the shooter had likely not retreated yet. In the background he could hear Nyle wailing and Harlon barking at him to take cover, but Sir Darby zoned it all out, singularily focused on catching any movement. The seconds passed slowly. And there it was. An ever so slight stir, but it was definitely there. No glimpse of the assassin unfortunately, but they had a site they could examine, which would surely yield some clue. That was the best he could do. Pursuit would be impossible. Sir Darby turned his eyes back to the chaos on the road. Now was the time to see to his companions. As Mercy left the area she could feel her heart pounding. That man had stared right at her! Had he spotted her? She had waited for him to look elsewhere before leaving, but he hadn't looked away once. In the end she had to leave as carefully as she could. There was definitely no chance of them pursuing her, especially not with that whimpering runt in their tow. But still, that piercing stare had certainly rattled her. And it felt strangely good. - 'This was an exciting one' she thought as she walked away. *** Bonus pictures: Whew! Wall of text Ok, so in the end I built some trees again, but this time with a new technique at least Was trying to create a row of willows that are pretty typical for the agricultural landscape in south of Sweden where I am from. The trees are cut down to "knobs" once every 2-3 years which gives them a distinctive look. Not entirely happy with the result, but I think they are at least recognizable (although my wife thought they were some kind of alien trees ). Here's what they look like in real life: link Also tried to make a composite image for when the assassin takes aim, but my image processing skills are just not good enough so it I ended up looking rather unnatural unfortunately Thanks for watching, hope you enjoyed it! C & C always welcome
  4. Full Plate

    Making Camp

    Making Camp Chapter I: The Tranquil Meadow Chapter II: Old Bagshaw's Residence Chapter III: The Poacher Chapter IV: Making Camp Chapter V: Solitary Council Chapter VI: Escaping Home Chapter VII: Waylaid Chapter VIII: Archery Practice Chapter IX: Honour the Fallen Bonus Landscape: Avalonian Countryside The crackling sound of the campfire brought back all kinds of memories to Sir Darby. Some of them fond. Most of them not. Sir Darby would always associate campfires with war, and memories of war were seldom pleasant ones. He had learnt the hard way that one was never as safe as one felt around a campfire. Sir Darby got out a whetstone and proceeded to methodically sharpen his sword. It was a habit he had developed from young - a way to remind himself that even here, in the warm glow of the fire, the harsh reality was still out there and he needed to be ready. The problem was; how could he be ready for what was to come, when he had no idea what to expect? Sir Darby had had to leave home for the Overgrown Isle with very short notice, without any men, and without even knowing the real reason for his departure. He had left his family at home, not being able to tell them much about where he was going, or even when he would come back. He was positive that he was part of some scheme, masterly manipulated from behind the scenes. But by whom and for what purpose was still unknown. All was not gloom however, because he was not alone. He was sharing this campfire with two of his most trusted men, with a third out to gather fuel for the fire to last them through the night. Things could surely have been worse. Sir Darby studied the two men at his sides. To his right sat Harlon Sherburne, a tall, dark man with a constant frown on his face, grilling a fish over the fire. Harlon was not the type to talk about himself, or to talk much at all for that matter, but Sir Darby could not think of anyone he’d rather have by his side in the heat of battle. Harlon had been Sir Darby’s right hand man for almost 20 years, always carrying out his charge well and above what anyone could expect. Not popular with the men, at least not at first, but a second-in-command didn’t need to be - he just needed to have the men ready for battle. In the end, a leader who kept his men alive was much preferred to one that kept them happy. The man on Sir Darby’s left was in many ways the diametrical opposite to Harlon. Kipp Wyght was a stout, red haired man, with a big mouth and a merry personality. Sir Darby also knew him to be fiercely loyal and the most skilled man with a blade he had ever seen. They had met only on Sir Darby’s latest military campaign, but Kipp had quickly proven to be one of the most valuable soldiers to the war effort, as well as an avid entertainer among the men, raising spirits wherever he went. Kipp was currently in the process of recounting an event involving a dead rat, a bowl of soup and a serving maid at The Fat Sow. From what Sir Darby could tell, the tale bore little resemblance to actual events, but Kipp’s stories seldom did, nor did they need to. Sir Darby smirked at Kipp's detailed description of the maid tumbling out the door just to land upside down in the water trough. - ‘...and since then, I'll never again be welcome at The Fat Sow!’, Kipp concluded his story. - ‘You forgot how she slapped you right across your face’, Harlon pointed out while turning his fish over. - ‘That was no slap’, Kipp replied. ‘Only the gentle caress of her silky smooth hand on my cheek; a memory that I will cherish forever!’ Harlon just sighed. The sound of twig cracking announced the arrival of the last man of their party. Nyle Ogden came into view carrying a bundle of sticks. Sir Darby hadn’t known him before they set out, and have even been reluctant to bring him along, but as Kipp’s younger cousin, Kipp had insisted on bringing him along. In the end Sir Darby had agreed, and in any case it was out of his hands. Nyle had put in a request of transfer to Newquay together with the other two, and the request had been granted. They were now Lord Cowden’s men, and Sir Darby should be happy to have them around. Still, from the looks of his damp pile of sticks, he was neither a seasoned outdoorsman, or a quick learner. - ‘Hey Nyle!’ Kipp hollered. ‘Good job fueling the fire! You can just put them down right here.’ - ‘Thanks’, Nyle mumbled and dropped the pile next to the campfire. Sir Darby knew that Kipp would sneak off later to find some proper kindling. Coddling people had never been Sir Darby’s way, and he had a hard time understanding why Kipp would treat his cousin this way. It was not his place to get involved though, as he had neither authority or full knowledge of the situation. It still irked him though. - ‘Are we getting close to Newquay yet?’ asked Nyle. - ‘About 2-3 days more to the coast, then we have to find passage over to the island’, Sir Darby replied. - ‘It is awfully cold here’, said Nyle. - ‘We’re pretty far north by now’, Kipp answered. ‘Probably as far north as the Mitgardian border in the east.’ - ‘But it is still summer’, said Nyle. ‘And Mitgardia is up in the mountains, while we’re in the low plains. Should it really be this cold?’ It was true that is was particularly cold. Sir Darby had not spent much time in this part of Avalonia, but even in the lower hills by the Mitgardian border it wouldn’t get this cold in summer. He had even noticed the leaves starting to wilt, which shouldn’t happen for at least another month, if not two. It was definitely not normal. - ‘It is... the Algus’, Harlon replied. Sir Darby was more than a little surprised. He had never heard about the Algus except for in the old wives’ tales, which he did not put much stock in. To hear this from a man of logic and deduction like Harlon was unexpected. - ‘I heard the rumour from some traders coming down from the mountains a few days before we departed’, Harlon continued. ‘They claimed that the Algus had appeared and with them had come the freezing cold. Some cities had been attacked, but their fates were unknown to them. I didn’t really take it seriously, until I had it confirmed by some of my... ‘sources’.’ - ‘But, that means they are close?’ stammered Nyle. - ‘I don’t know’, replied Harlon. ‘I don’t know if this is really the Algus of the legends, or if it’s something else. But there is something out there, somewhere, causing the cold, and I doubt they’re friendly.’ It went quiet. Sir Darby was processing what had been shared. The Algus. Possibly somewhere near. This was a surprise. And in Sir Darby’s experience, surprises were wont to kill you. - ‘Well, it won’t be a surprise anymore’, he thought to himself. ‘Now I can be prepared for that as well.’ Seems he had been right; one was never as safe as one felt around a campfire. *** My first post in a while now. A lot of work and travelling, but managed to build something in between things :) Also, decided to weave in some of the Algus event into the story. If I got any of the lore wrong, do let me know :) Hope you enjoyed the MOC :)
  5. Full Plate

    The Tranquil Meadow

    The Tranquil Meadow Chapter I: The Tranquil Meadow Chapter II: Old Bagshaw's Residence Chapter III: The Poacher Chapter IV: Making Camp Chapter V: Solitary Council Chapter VI: Escaping Home Chapter VII: Waylaid Chapter VIII: Archery Practice Chapter IX: Honour the Fallen Bonus Landscape: Avalonian Countryside Sir Darby was making his way through the wild grass. It had been a while since his last time here, and the little path he'd usually follow was all but gone. Before long he reached his destination; a huge tree growing amidst a pile rocks, right in the middle of the meadow. This was the place where Sir Darby would come when he needed some time away from life, some time to think without distractions. He put his sword aside and lay down in the grass. His head was full of thoughts, but right now he needed to focus on just one thing; the letter he had received last morning. Eyes on the canopy overhead, he took a deep breath and let his mind go empty. Soon enough he felt the calmness come over him; now he was ready. Sir Darby started by recalling the letter, trying to figure out what about it that made him feel so uneasy. It was nothing extraordinary to be given orders by letter, although most times he would be delivered a summons, and then receive his orders directly from his superiors. Still, it had happened before, and Sir Darby thought it no oddity. What was strange, however, was the nature of the charge; colony defense. This had never been Sir Darby's strong suit, and although he had been handling camp defense during his military campaigns from time to time, securing a civilian colony was very different from securing a camp full of armed and battle-trained soldiers. Dealing with civilians required a softer touch, and Sir Darby decidedly didn't posses such. Moreover, the location was also a bit of a surprise to Sir Darby. Why send him to a small, newly founded colony at the edge of the Isles? Surely, the timber from the colony generated plenty of wealth, and was the raw material of many lords' extravagance, but where was the threat that required the deployment of one of the realm's greatest swordsmen and tacticians, not to mention the men serving under him? To Sir Darby this seemed nothing but a huge waste of military resources, so could there be other, underlying reasons for this order? Putting him on a remote isle would certainly be pleasing to some of the decadent lords in Albion, who were less than ecstatic about him. Sir Darby wasn't one to play the high society game, and his brutal honesty and serious demeanor had landed him in hot water more than once. He always meant what he said, and said what he meant, but that was not how these lordlings did things. Luckily, his wife, Delwyn, seemed to have a knack for smoothing things over for him, and he knew things would have been much worse without her. Thinking of his wife lead his trail of thought to his family. Newquay was far away, and it was not clear how long he was to hold this position. If it was a particular threat that needed to be dealt with it might be over rather quickly, but if this was about general colony defense then he might be relocating for an extended period of time. Should he bring his family with him? No, he quickly decided. The Isles was no place for them. He had never brought his family along for any of his military campaigns, and although this was slightly different, he saw no reason to bring them this time either. He wasn't worried for his wife or his son, Gerald, they would be ok, but his daughter, Janelle, was now almost 11 years of age, and she was an adventurous girl. She would most certainly demand to come along if she knew what was going on. In any case, Sir Darby needed more information about his orders. When was he to head out? How many men was he to bring? Who was he to report to? The orders were signed by Sir Bagshaw, an old but respectable knight that Sir Darby had served under on multiple occasions. The irregularities of these orders did not add up with the usual competent work of Sir Bagshaw. Regardless, the starting point was clear; it was time for Sir Darby to pay old Sir Bagshaw a visit in Albion. That should allow him to sort out a few things about these orders. As Sir Darby got to his feet and grabbed his sword, he felt better already. With determined steps he walked back to his estate, leaving the big tree looming behind. *** I would like to request UoP DoH credits for the following: Landscape design: 1 tree type (the big one). Landscape design: dense foliage. Hope you enjoyed the MOC :)
  6. Full Plate

    Old Bagshaw's Residence

    Old Bagshaw's Residence Chapter I: The Tranquil Meadow Chapter II: Old Bagshaw's Residence Chapter III: The Poacher Chapter IV: Making Camp Chapter V: Solitary Council Chapter VI: Escaping Home Chapter VII: Waylaid Chapter VIII: Archery Practice Chapter IX: Honour the Fallen Bonus Landscape: Avalonian Countryside Sir Darby knocked on the door to Sir Bagshaw's study, his dark brown hair was slightly damp from the light rain. Over all the years this was his first time at Sir Bagshaw's private residence. The old knight had always taken his audiences in his room in the castle. Sir Darby had gone there first only to find that he wasn't there, and hadn't been there for the past few days, if the guards were to be believed. It was not like Sir Bagshaw to be scared of a little rain, but maybe age was finally getting to him. - 'Come on in' came the answer from the other side of the door. Sir Darby entered. The room was simple, but functional. Clearly a room of comfort rather than for official business. And yet, here he was. Sir Bagshaw, a white-haired, balding man, clad in shirt and jacket, rose from his chair and greeted him. - 'Rikkard!' exclaimed Sir Bagshaw. 'What took you so long?' Sir Darby was taken aback at this greeting. There had been no summons in the letter he had received. Why was Sir Bagshaw expecting him, and if he was expecting him, why was he at home? Whatever the reason, they had business to discuss. - 'Sir, I received your orders the day before yesterday, but I...' - 'You have some questions?' interrupted Sir Bagshaw. 'Of course you do. Those orders are garbage. So, what do you need to know?' Again, Sir Darby was caught off guard. Sir Bagshaw knew the orders were poorly made, but he still sent them out? Something was wrong here. - 'Well, I was wondering about this threat to Newquay. What is it that we are to protect the colony from?' - 'The forest.' - 'The forest? There are enemies hiding in the forest, threatening the colony?' - 'We don't know. We got a request from Lord Cowden for aid as they have lost several people to the woods.' - 'So we don't know if there's a real threat out there? These people might have just gotten lost in the mist.' Sir Darby had heard rumors of the forest being dangerous, but he did not think a Lord would dare to ask for help based on superstition. But maybe it was more than mere superstition. Why else risk looking weak and foolish by sending such a request? - 'There is a threat. People are disappearing. These people have been chopping trees on the isle for years, and they have been fine until now. The only thing that has changed is that there is now a colony on the island.' - 'Lord Cowden being in charge is another thing that has changed.' Sir Bagshaw looked at him with a smile. - 'You sure keep yourself well informed, even while cooped up in that little cottage of yours.' - 'It's a nice cottage, Sir.' Sir Bagshaw let out a small chuckle, and for a while Sir Darby thought he saw him return to his normal self. It did not last though. - 'It is, and yes, you are right. Lord Cowden is a new factor as well. In any case there is a threat, just that we don't know what it is.' - 'So how will I be able to pick my men appropriately without knowing what we are up against?' Sir Darby had always prided himself with knowing his men and handpicking the right people for the job. Even the mightiest of men could only do so much alone, and so handling the people under him was of utmost importance. - 'You won't.' - 'I won't? You mean you are going to pick my men for me?' - 'No, we are not.' Sir Darby stood in silent confusion. - 'We are not sending any men', clarified Sir Bagshaw. 'We are just sending a man.' It took Sir Darby a while to understand what he had just heard. They were going to send him alone? - 'Why?', Sir Darby managed to get out. - 'We can't spare the men.' - 'So how am I to defend a colony against an unknown threat with no men?' - 'Investigate the threat. Draw a conclusion. Gather the resources to solve the problem. If you need men, there are plenty of men under Lord Cowden.' - 'They are civilians! They are not up to the task, or we wouldn't have gotten this request in the first place.' - 'Then make them up to the task. You are a seasoned trainer, are you not?' Sir Darby looked at him in disbelief. How could they treat him like this? What was Sir Bagshaw thinking. Sir Darby looked him in the eyes trying to figure out what he was thinking. Sir Bagshaw's eyes showed irritation, but also... pity? Sir Bagshaw was not one to pity the men he dispatched. Unless... he did not agree with this order and pitied Sir Darby for having received it? This order did not come from Sir Bagshaw then? In that case arguing would be fruitless. Sir Bagshaw would not betray his orders, and Sir Darby thought him better for it. No, this was over both their heads, and Sir Darby needed to concern himself with managing the precarious situation he was now in, whether he liked it or not. He needed a new angle. - 'So, I am charged with the defense of Newquay and I am to handle this charge alone, is that correct?' - 'I'm afraid so.' - 'But if, say, some good men were to independently request a transfer to Newquay, you would probably be kind enough to grant them their requests, wouldn't you?' Sir Darby could see irritation on Sir Bagshaw's face melt away and give way to relief. So, his irritation had been with the fact that Sir Darby didn't fully grasp the situation until now? - 'You know me. I am a kind man and I would see no reason to deny their requests. And, if that happened, I don't see any reason why you couldn't all just travel together. You would be going the same direction after all.' - 'We certainly would', replied Sir Darby, failing to suppress a smile. - 'Of course, I wouldn't think too many people would put in such a request, considering that the Isles is a pretty undesirable posting. Perhaps two, maybe three people? If I received more requests than that, that would be quite extraordinary, and of course there is nothing extraordinary going on here, is there?' - 'Not a thing', replied Sir Darby. Sir Bagshaw clearly didn't wish to stir up any trouble, and he was probably under close watch by someone. But now was not the time to find out. Sir Darby had to go, and without knowing the reason why. He could start poking around, but that would raise suspicion, and judging by Sir Bagshaw's behavior that might be a fatal mistake to make right now. Better to play along and let whoever was manipulating this situation think they've won. That way he could take his time to understand what was going on, and, if need be, strike at an opportune moment and catch his enemy unaware. - 'Well, that clears up that then', said Sir Bagshaw stretching out his hand. 'Safe travels, Sir.' Sir Darby shook his hand. - 'Good day, Sir. Until we meet again.' Sir Darby turned around and left. Things looked worse than they had done on his way in, but in reality he was now much better off. He now understood the predicament he was in more clearly, and he would be able to bring a couple of men with him, even though they would officially be Lord Cowden's men. Three men versus being alone would make a huge difference, not least of all on the road, and Sir Darby knew exactly who to ask. Also, he knew he had someone he could trust in the capital. Sir Bagshaw hadn't done a bad job on that report. He had botched it on purpose, to make sure Sir Darby came to see him before heading out. Sir Darby smiled to himself. He might be in the middle of someone's manipulative game, but he was feeling more alive than he had in a long time. He loved his family and the peaceful life at the estate, but the battlefield was where he belonged. And this was a battlefield, just a slightly different one than what he was used to. It had just been a couple of minutes since Sir Darby left the Bagshaw residence, when a hooded man entered Sir Bagshaw's study, unannounced. The man was plainly dressed, the choice of clothing for those who wished to move around without raising suspicion. Sir Bagshaw's countenance soured visibly at the sight of the man. - 'You listened in?' he asked the man, not really expecting an answer. 'You don't trust me?' - 'Would you? We are strong-arming you after all. You handled it well though. But why did you meet him here?' - 'You needed him to believe I was on his side, did you not? I did things the way I needed to in order to accomplish that.' - 'You let him have a couple of men.' - 'Again, he needed to trust me. And the men will be Lord Cowden's men, not his. In any case, I can just reject their requests when I get them if you want.' The man paused for a while, considering. - 'Let him have them. Since you already offered, it would be suspicious if you would deny the requests. But don't take liberties like that again, or I will have to get more drastic.' Sir Bagshaw clenched his teeth. - 'Don't you threaten me', he snarled. The man gave a wry smile. - 'Threats are the basis of our whole relationship. Or were you under the impression that you were helping me out of free will? I know you. I know how to hurt you, and I will, unless you do as I say. So yes, I will continue to threaten you, and you will continue to be my loyal dog.' The man turned to go. - 'You better hope this works out the way you think... dog.' The door closed behind him. - 'You think you know me?', Sir Bagshaw thought as the door closed. 'Well, I know you, Kaliphlin. I could recognise that ostrich rider gait of your's a mile away. You'll learn, I am nobody's dog.' Once outside, the hooded man had a look around and then trotted off down the road. A young man came up alongside him. - 'How did it go, Sir?', he asked. - 'Our dog barks', was the reply. 'Make sure he doesn't bite.' - 'Yes, Sir.' - 'But leave him physically able, or he will be of no use to us.' - 'Like in Samrd'dha, Sir?' - 'Yes, that should do it.' At once the young man turned and headed back toward the Bagshaw residence. The hooded man couldn't help but smile to himself at what was about to happen. - 'You will know your place, dog.' *** My first attempt at an interior build, and obviously heavily influenced by everything I've seen around here. By the way, is a person from Kaliphlin called a 'Kaliphlin'? Or is there some other term to use? I would also like to request UoP DoH credits for the following: General Building: Interior Design. Hope you like the build :)