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The journey of Parzival - The Throne of Zamorah (Prologue, Part I)
Zilmrud posted a topic in Guilds of Historica
The journey of Parzival Prologue, part I Prolouge - The Throne of Zamorah [City of Zamorah] The room was dark except from the starlight from the balcony and window. The balcony door was open to get some breeze in the summer night. In the ruler's bedroom it was quiet except for the ruler's heavy rustling breath. Next to him stood a servant, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a wet towel. Next to the footboard of the bed stood two people with hoods with their heads bowed. “- Is he awake?” the elf Waldemar whispered “- What difference does it make? if he is not awake you have to wake him up.” Whispered the elf Gindrell back in an angry tone. “- Why me? Whispered Waldermar. A heavy rustling was heard from the bed. The ruler Zull af Drachen moved under the sheets. “- What are you whispering about? Don't you think I hear you? I'm admittedly on the deathbed, but I'm not dead yet. But my voice is weak, so I have to talk this way.” A voice was heard inside their heads. Gindrell felt a shiver go down her spine. Even though she should have gotten used to it after all these years in the Ruler's service, she was always surprised by the druid's way of communicating directly into her head. Zull had the ability to communicate via telepathy, An unusual ability that had been inherited for generations by the druids in his family. “- Excuse us, your grace. We didn’t know if you were awake. We come with ominous news.” Waldemar answered. “- We know that your grace needs to rest after today's tiring deliberations. But we do not think this can wait until the morning.” said Gindrell apologetically. “- Well, let go. But let it be fast!” hissed Zull's voice inside their heads. “- At dawn when The Aurum Order was to start today's deliberations in the throne room, an urgent messenger came with a message.” said Gindrell “- It was Arguin, the leader of the royal guard, who made the message. As chairman, I received the parchment from Arguin. But as he kept his head down all the time, I understood that it was not good news.” Said Waldemar. “- I took the parchment back to the Order and read it aloud to everyone.” Waldermar said “- During the night there was a terrible accident in the Aurumium mines under the city. A mine tunnel has collapsed and people have been injured. But the work was still going on to clear it up so it was not known then how many were injured. “- We immediately sent down a delegation to investigate what happened in the mine.” Said Gindrell. “- During the day, we interrogated workers who were in the area. We received information so that we could in all probability determine how extensive the damage was. We arrested Master Gundwald, the foreman of section 7 where the accident took place. He is the one who bears the ultimate responsibility for the work in the mines in Section 7. We held an interrogation with him in the required manner in the throne room in the afternoon. “- During the interrogation, he was unusually quiet.” Said Waldemar. “- Master Gundwald is usually quite outspoken, even when he should not be. But what came out was very worrying.” “- It soon became apparent that inspections of the mines in Section 7 had taken place during the night, Gindrell continued. "- The group that carried out inspections in the mine is said to have been located exactly where the mine tunnel collapsed." “- Late in the afternoon, so much had been cleared up in the mine tunnel that this was confirmed.” Said Waldemar. “- It has been possible to confirm five dead and no survivors from the inspectors. Only the testimony of Master Gundwald and his workers and what could be seen of the crushed remains. “- Mmm, this is really sad news.” The voice of the ruler was heard in their heads. “- There are few times when our mining work has caused injuries to our citizens. This is a great sorrow for our kingdom and it will be announced on the market tomorrow. You can give this announcement Waldemar, as it is part of your office. You Gindrell must make sure that you contact the relatives of the deceased directly in the morning. They must be worried after not hearing from their loved ones. I want you to bring me my son Parzival. It is ultimately his job to ensure the safety of the city and the mines. I want to hear what he has to say about it all before the morning.” It became quiet in the bedroom. Waldemar and Gindrell looked anxiously at the ruler and at each other. “- Well!?" The cold voice of the ruler was heard in their heads. Waldemar cleared his throat. “- Erm… it was just that your grace. We can not find your son. Erm…. According to witnesses, he was one of the inspectors in the mine. We could also find his clothes and belongings on one of the bodies in the mining tunnel. I'm really sorry to have to tell you this. But your son is dead! An enormous silence spread in the room. Waldemar and Gindrell could almost hear the echo of Waldermar's last words repeated over and over. The silence was so compact that it almost hurt their ears. They couldn’t even hear the ruler's breath anymore. They looked anxiously at each other and at the servant who was standing still with his eyes wide open. “- Leave me!” Zull af Drachen's voice roared in their ears. The days passed and Zamorah sank into grief. Partly of the terrible disaster in the mine but also when the Ruler's son and heir to the throne was dead. Black flags were hung on the city streets and squares and the citizens wore black bands on their arms. The next few days it turned out that in addition to Parzival af Drachen who died in the accident, was also his closest lieutenant and childhood friend Beren Grimfold the Paladin, his friend the fauna and magician Eld Afett and not least his betrothed, the Duchess Freda of Andustar. The company that died also included the chief inspector and dwarf Durum Grotta. There was some tumult and confusion in the castle. How would Zamorah be governed now? Zull af Drachen lay on the deathbed and his only heir to the throne was dead. In addition, Zull's health soon deteriorated. The Aurum Order could not help but convene an urgent council meeting to be held in the ruler's bedroom. During the council meeting, the Ruler announced that The Aurum Order would take over the reign of Zamorah as there was no heir to the throne. And thus was the end of the long succession to the throne of af Drachen family that went as far back as the first druid who settled on the top of the mountain. Shortly afterwards, Zull died in the suites of his illness. But many believed that what really killed Zull was the grief over his son's death and the grief of the end of his lineage and of letting the reign of Zamorah be left in the hands of The Aurum Order. A funeral ceremony for Zull was held in the castle's throne room. Long-distance guests from foreign lands came to say goodbye to Zull, a ruler most remembered as a just and kind-hearted leader. The Aurum order came to power in Zamorah and it was not long before it was announced that the long magical shutdown of the city and duchy would be lifted. Trade contacts would be established with foreign kingdoms. But great resources would also be invested in building up a defense against foreign powers. Divisions thus arose in Zamorah's government and among its people. Those who looked forward to the new and Zamorah's opportunities for trade and wealth. And those who saw how the only thing that kept Zamorah safe now had been removed and how the greed of the outside world would now lead to the duchy being invaded. Regardless of what the population thought, The Aurum Order was clear in its message: Now the whole of Historica would see Zamorah's greatness, power and riches and The Aurum Order would ensure that Zamorah would have its rightful place as a significant duchy in Avalonia. -
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!
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Hey everyone ! It's been ages since I took part in a Eurobricks contest of any kind, but when I stumbled upon the Concept Art Contest this Friday, I knew I had to cook something up, no matter how little time remained, since I am a huge fan of Ralph McQuarrie's art. About half of the wall space of my house is filled with framed posters of his drawings, as I am simply in love with his ability to capture the feeling of each location - you can almost feel how it would be like if you were there. My favorite work of his is all the ROTJ imperial imagery, like the super industrial proto-Coruscant that Vader escorts Luke through to get to the Emperor, but Palpy's throne room itself takes the cake in my opinion. The final movie version of the room onboard the DSII is iconic to be sure, but to me this version of it is an amazing, super Star-Wars-y location, and perfectly matches the Emperor's character and the tone of the sequence. My build is quite simple, as the platform and throne are quite simple, sharp and bold shapes themselves. For the lava, I wanted something a tad more realistic and interesting than trans-orange tiles on a baseplate, so I employed the classic idea of a net piece sandwiched between 1x1 plates and 1x1 tiles on the bottom and top respectively, which gives the ability to curve and shape your surface, and created a subtle wave pattern. Due to my time limitations, I switched the camera's angle to be higher up to avoid building tons of rockwork on the back, but I included the small parts near the platform using the new-ish beehive part,BB-8 heads and barraki eyes, so you can get an idea of what the rest of it would look like. So, here goes, please tell me your thoughts and critiques !
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After finishing it and creating minifigures I uploaded it to LEGO Ideas which you can find here: Four-Towered Castle It contains some extra information such as piece counts. Feel free to leave a support on the LEGO Ideas site if you like it. 3D Model view here on Sketchfab: Four-Towered Castle The Full Inside view. Note that the castle is made in a "L" shaped layout. The left/West Entrance. Notice the flaps that would allow archers/crossbowmen to fire through and take cover. The inside side of the West entrance. Entrance to the hall from the courtyard/bailey. The alchemy room. With a green substance in a flask and a chandelier below the tall ceiling. The certainly need a ladder here. A tower with a wooden hoarding around it. Crossbows are stored here. The armoury. Along with the stacked sword it has a bed for a soldier here as well. View above the towers. Better view of the catapult and the winch for raising the portcullis. Inside the shack extension. The Great Hall. Turnable fire in the great hall's fireplace. Winch which you can rotate the fire and exterior of the hall. Drawbridge Outside. Gate Inside. Chest room. Stone Sigil. Walkway. Romans with a catapult & Celtic Warriors. Upper view.
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I decided The Nexo Knights Volcano Lair playset needed a little something extra... I added a Skull tower with a throne and a platform for adding ingredients into a cauldron for mixing up magical mischief... Work in progress image... Best picture I could get of the throne
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My third entry into CCC XIV, for the Traveling Salesman category. Credit for the star mosaic over the throne goes to Disco86. One of the main things I wanted to include in this build was the awning over the king’s seat, as it is historically accurate, and something I haven’t seen done much in LEGO. The balcony area and floor were perhaps the funnest parts to build however. The grand merchant Tajir specializes in fine silks, spices, jewels, and robes. Tajir has brought a selection of his wares to King Dhahab. What sumptuous items will the King and Queen select? More pictures on Brickbuilt Thanks for looking, all C&C welcome
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This is the final build in the collab between myself and MKJoshA. I hope you enoyed it as much as I did. Kabel inspired the floor design with the sweet custom sail on his ship, you can see it in the Challenge III topic. Upon arriving in Valholl, Wyndor and Glorfindel went straight to the capitol building and once inside that they headed to the throne room itself. Several nobles and officers of the army were discussing current matters and arguing different strategies. Elon Chorian and Steen Larsson were waiting to hear news of their travels... "It's good to see you two again," said Glorfindel. "Likewise, I'm glad you weren't injured or waylaid on your mission," Elon replied. "Now what do you have to report?" Glorfindel reported: "Tension between different races and factions in Mitgardia is on the rise, but as of yet most are still willing to work against a common threat. How long they will maintain that attitude remains to be seen. Even now, some new change of events could move things toward a civil war. The dwarves, if rumours be true, seem most likely to make a rash move and plunge Mitgardia into chaos. Reportedly they've been having many long councils in their great cities concerning the invasion of Avalonia." "Yes, I have heard similar tidings," Larsson added. "Then we must look into the matter, we need definite proof that the dwarves are plotting to attack Avalonia before we can intervene. In the meantime be on your guard and do what you can to promote unity," Elon ordered. More pictures: Without figs: The bear paw insignia: Noble and Officer figs: C&C appreciated
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Some people call Alvin a wizard. Some call him an alchemist. Some whisper about him being a magician or a warlock. Almost everyone agrees that he’s slightly insane. What Alvin considers himself to be is something much nobler, however. “A Man of Science” is his self-applied title: a great experimenter, a brilliant scholar, a modern incarnation of Plato, Socrates, Archimedes and all the rest. Although, in his day and age, a successful “scientist” is usually someone who’s either very lucky, or has experienced a lot of “trial and error”. Whatever he is, Alvin is certainly not a very safe person to be around. His wild experimenting can often be very dangerous for a casual bystander. After he almost burned an entire village to the ground, the king decided it would be safer for everybody if Alvin was kept somewhere a little more “secluded”. Naturally a dark, empty room in the basement of the royal castle would be the perfect place to hide away an annoying wizard; the thick stone walls and ceiling should be strong enough to protect the rest of the world from the wild antics of the mad pseudoscientist…right? ****** Alvin scuffled back and forth between shelves stocked with wizardish appliances, hastily gathering the necessary ingredients for his latest concoction. According to his precise calculations—and some wild guessing—Alvin determined that the elixir for eternal life was within his grasp! Hustling franticly about the room, the old wizard snatched up a few final items, and then hurried to the center of the room, where a large cauldron was brewing. Alvin added ingredients one at a time, lifting the lid carefully with each thing he slipped into the cauldron. The great pot sizzled and bubbled, and a pungently foul odor spread about the room. ****** Smiling as he greeted his dinner guests, the king gestured for all present to have a seat. The tall, ornate wooden chairs squeaked slightly as the lords and ladies dropped into them. The king explained that dinner was still being prepared, but that the guests should all have a drink; his best wine was being served. As the guests took up conversations with one another and lifted their goblets for a toast, a slight rumbling shook the room. ****** The lid on the cauldron was shaking wildly now as Alvin slipped the last item into the huge pot. He stepped back carefully, as a huge grin spread across his silly face. His thoughts racing, he imagined the great power he would have with this mighty elixir. Suddenly, a loud pop sounded from within the cauldron. Without warning, the heavy metal lid was blown violently into the air, knocking Alvin roughly backward and causing the pot’s contents to spill out over the side. The lid continued its upward course until reaching the brick ceiling, which it subsequently blasted through. ****** The king let a counterfeit smile spread across his features as he raised his glass for another toast. Seriously, he grumbled to himself, this is the most boring dinner party I’ve ever been at! He touched the goblet to his lips, but before he could swallow any of the wine he was suddenly hit with an enormous wave of intense heat! The goblet fell from his grasp when suddenly a heavy iron pot-lid exploded through the table in front of him. It was followed by a ball of flame and a long line of smoke, leading back through the floor into the chambers of…the king closed his eyes and fervently wished to be someplace else. ______________________________ Here’s my second and last entry to the CCCXI! Category: Trial and Error. This was really a blast to build, haha. Thanks to my Dad for scientific advice and general encouragement. Happy new year everybody! :) Soli Deo Gloria!
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A new build I made, depicting the Iron Throne from the HBO TV series 'Game of Thrones' This is based off of Cyol Ternyan's Iron Throne on Flickr. C&C welcome!
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Here's my latest MOC: Bright sunlight filtered through the intricate stained glass of the Hall’s windows. The cold stone brick walls and floor of the room soaked in the warm illumination. Around the Hall, courtiers stood in small, casual groups, talking of politics and court gossip. Suddenly the great wooden doors at the end of the Hall burst open. A fully-armored knight strode in; the king jumped excitedly to his feet. “Your highness,” the knight said with a bow. “I bring news of the western front. I have ridden all the way from the township of Ellithshire to bring it. The war goes not well! All the countryside is ravaged with brutal warfare. Reinforcements are desperately required!” Breathing heavily from this exhortation, the knight gazed about the room, his grim countenance silencing the many whispering groups of excited courtiers. The crow-shaped crest atop his helmet bobbed up and down with each breath; it almost seemed alive and ready to fly away. After a moment of thought, the king called aloud to the captain of the guard. “Captain! Send messengers to the villages. Issue a call to arms to all military age men. Once they are gathered, we ride off…to war!” The excitement in the court couldn’t be held in any longer. Wild whispers rose to shouts as the courtiers suddenly realized the gravity of this proclamation. The war was no longer just a distant rumble; it had now grown to a mighty roar! ________________________________________________________ I came up with a lot of new techniques for this build, including a ton that I didn’t use. I probably have enough unused techniques to build another throne room. (hmmm, if only there were some kind of contest going on right now that I could do that for…;) Anyway, thanks for viewing! :D Soli Deo Gloria! :)
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Here's some teaser pics of the Moc I've been working on. It is a part of the story I'm writing, which I will post here. Teaser by Carson Haupt, on Flickr Throne room enhanced by Carson Haupt, on Flickr
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I finally had time to take photos of a small project I worked on from time to time. The ultimate icon of power, treason and greed; the Iron Throne. And of course, the Bean:
