Search the Community

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. The list below captures almost all of the various ideas that have been used over the years in this thread. 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! Additionally, some items could go into other categories. For example, a wizard might be a scholar or an entertainer. An astrologer could be scholar or religious. An adventurer's guild could be hospitality food, or lodging depending on the offerings, etc., so ask if you have questions, but don't be too worried about the category. Build something awesome to your imagination and we will find a category for it. Agriculture Grains and Produce Farm Garden Mill Granary Marketplace Vineyard Orchard Foraging grounds Irrigation system Livestock Farm Cattle/Horse ranch Dairy Swineherd Goatherd Sheepfold Marketplace Kennel Beekeeper Fishery Hunting grounds Pastures Nautical Harbor Shipwright Quay Fishery Ferryman Port Dock Lighthouse Military Keep Barracks Gatehouse Tower Castle Fortified Bridge/port/manor/etc. Wall Beacon Cavalry Stables Ballista Tower Fort Religious Chapel Church Monastery Tomb Crypt Catacombs Cemetery Temple Mosque Shrine Monument Medical Apothecary Herbalist Infirmary/Hospital Mortician/Necromancer Torture Chamber Barber/Physician Hospitality Food & Beverage Bakery Butcher Winery Kitchens Brewery Café/Street Food Tavern Adventurer's Guild (and/or lodging depending) Pizzeria Shisha Cellar (wine, cheese, etc.) Lodging Inn Stables Coach house Celebrations (fits into Food or Lodging, depending) 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 Wheelbarrower/Hauler Trapper (fur, etc.) Craftsmen/Merchants General goods Cooper Wainwright Tannery Carpenter Dyer Marketplace Fishing Rod Merchant Farrier 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 Luthier Mushroom groomer Glassblower Services Herald Cartographer Money lender General Store Scribe Courier (incl. Pigeons) Trading Post Shipping house/Warehouse Falcon trainer Scholars Observatory Alchemist Philosopher Library University/Academy Astrologer Astronomer School Wizard Entertainment Minstrel Fortune Teller Street Musicians Performing Troupe Brothel Sports Arena Theatre Presdigitator (magician) Fighting pit Ostrich racing Puppeteer Administrative (Town or City only) Town Hall Chancery Forum Council Building/chamber Administrative Building Meeting Hall Customs House Palace Embassy Courthouse

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Three years of peace. I, Raxus Waythe, Judge of the Wastelands, had grown relaxed on the food and ale of my newfound position and the incredible peace relatively small acts of brutality had brought me. I admit I was beginning to wonder about starting to wander farther afield if for no other reason than to let my name roll off the tongues of increasing royal speakers. I stood, drinking fine local Varlyrian ale, watching small transactions happen in a sleepy, eastern town. I didnt even recall the name, only that one of my men had invited me thus. The sun was setting, the landscape warm and calm. It was as a poet would tell it, and yet all true. "Judge Waythe" It was a statement, not a question. I turned to see a tall, fair haired man staring at me with sharp eyes boring into my skull. I almost took a step back "Yes?" "its a long way from the Wastelands." "I am a Varlyrian of Noble Stock. I can go where I come and please." "Do not imagine, just because you set some heads on pikes and the governor fears for his own safety, that you are anything other than a wolf, on a leash." It had been dormant so long the wolf reawakening within me took me by surprise. "That may well be, sir, but I would guard your tongue more carefully if you wish to remain you village, let alone your family" For the first time he seemed to back off. "I mean no ill will. I bring a message, from Leifric's Hollow." "Go on" "We should take it inside" We sat at a table, not too far from a roaring fire. I had finished with my ale, and so had the mysterious messenger "You have grown wealthy these last few years, and well. You have had ample time." Once again unease crawled into my mind. "Time for what" The stranger shifted, not with unease I was sure, but something else. Yet I could not figure out what. His eyes twinkled. "You shall see. Arrive in Leifric's Hollow in one fortnight's time." I had little mind to ride so far north, even if it was closer to my outposts than the place I was presently sitting. Leifric's Hollow was practically in the mountains, green though it still was most of the year. Yet I could not help but be intrigued. "And what awaits me at Leifric's Hollow?" "Your fate, of course"

On the edge of the eastern side of Varlyrio, brushing up against the mountains where the dwarves and gnomes have their dwellings, there is a great waterfall formed by the great, rocky wall of stone that leapt up in the midst of the river when the two islands collided together in the legendary past. The mists hung low over this waterfall when Dialto de Fiori rode up to it, wounded and heartsore after the great tragedy of his would-be-wedding, with a broken lance-end from his challenge to Sir Baiamonte embeded in his side... Hey y'all! It's been too long since I've posted here, but I hope this makes up for the delay! Built for the SJ Ambiance category (though I don't expect to win anything - there are way too many fantastic entries!), but it's was an awesomely inspirational category and I'm really happy with how it turned out! Inspired by an illustration of Sir Pellias from an old book on King Arthur and his knights, and this part in particular of the awesome history of Varlyrio (which I wrote ) is something I've always wanted to flesh out in the brick! Also (in a slightly different version - but gotta admit I prefer the medieval one, haha! ) I made it to finalist in the Ideas contest! Would love any votes y'all want to send my way! Thanks for viewing, y'all's C&C is always more than welcome!

The Bianca family was a dirt-poor, unranked family from the backwater canals of Illyrian. Unranked with no political power, following the death of their parents, the orphaned siblings turned to a life of crime. Now, years later, the family is still unranked but the siblings and their half brother run a growing criminal enterprise. Gualtiero Bianca, head of family Constant beatings from his drunken parents made Gualtiero a very sullen child, but an elderly local pharmacist took pity on him and mentored him in his craft, securing Gualtiero a position in a school of herbalism and pharmacy in the city of Illyrian. His third year in school, the pharmacist passed away from old age and his parents died only months later in a drunken gondola accident. Penniless and without support, he turned his skills to producing illicit pharmaceuticals and found he had quite a talent for it. With the help of a fellow pharmacy student (who had failed out the previous year and began dealing drugs), he slowly began to grow his criminal enterprise. Now, years later, Gualtiero and his assistant, Jesse Uomorosa, produce illicit pharmaceuticals in their caravan, the Nave di Krystallo. This product is then smuggled into Illyrian by Gualtiero's brother-in-law, Cletus, and distributed by their sister the madame and their half-brother nightclub bouncer. Gualtiero is a ruthless, brutal head of the Bianca crime family. Serifina Bianca Serafina is the second oldest of the siblings behind Gualtiero, and felt obligated to take care of the family after her parents' death. While Gualtiero was off starting up his business, she turned to the oldest profession to make money. Through traditional Varlyrian methods, Serafina quickly gained power in the working house, becoming the Madame. She revamped the business with a high-end clientele and began making more money. She renamed the house to "The Golden Banana" and now provides services to the rich and powerful in Varlyrio. Having reconciled with Gualtiero largely for a substantial cut of his profits, she now distributes wholesale 'product' to upper scale clients and provides law enforcement protection through bribes and blackmail. Niccolo Bianca Third eldest of the siblings, Niccolo Bianca was cared for by his oldest sister Serifina as a child. He learned the value of a dollar and how to prey upon the desires of others, distributing some of Gualtiero's pharmaceutical on the street as a teen. He saved his money and started to run his own gambling rackets in back alleys where he sold drugs. This grew, and he eventually took over a run down casino, renovating it and bringing in new clientele. He now runs a moderately successful casino in Illyrian that launders Gualtiero's money, sells drugs to clients, and provides cover for nefarious meetings of multiple Varlyrian underworld members. He is hard-nosed, has strict rules of his employees not using their product, and will eliminate anyone who breaks the rules or crosses him. His business is close to Serifina's, and they regularly refer clients to one another. Abriana Bianca, her husband Cletus Thurbrush, and her four sons 'Carlo' Youngest of the siblings, Gualtiero's disaster of a sister Abriana ran all over town with every man she could find after her parents died. Never the brightest, Abriana named all of her four sons Carlo after her father, telling them apart by their last names. She seems to have settled on the alligator farmer Cletus Thurbrush and she lives with him on the murky, fetid backwater lower class canals of Illyrian in a ramshackle house with her children and their numerous dogs. Cletus smuggles Gualtiero's bulk product around the city inside of alligator corpses, smelly, disgusting vehicles for transport that rarely are searched by authorities. Thag, half-orc half-brother The unusual product of their father's dalliance with an orc woman, the siblings' half-brother Thag works as a bouncer at a nightclub. He is a low-level dealer of Gualtiero's product and helps with enforcing and extortion operations in their drug territory.

Previously... Here's my second build for the collaboration, along with the third part of the story. Huge thanks to my fellow collaborators for help with this build, especially @TalusMoonbreaker for the idea to use this backdrop. Enjoy! The Tiger of Illaryian: Part III It was the nineteenth of November. With winter coming on apace there was nothing better for the Marquis of Motu to do than build yet another brand new fancy manor in the heart of Illaryian, the famed capital of Varlyrio, and nothing better for Lady Motu to do than inaugurate the brand new manor with yet another of her famous balls. But this one was a little different. This time it was a mask ball. Un baile di mascherati… Råiden Tígrisdýrið snapped his mask over his face and thrust his hands into his pockets. He was leaning back against the balustrade, waiting for someone, chewing a popular Kolgari gum behind his mask. “‘This is the mask I’ll be wearing,’” he repeated to himself, “‘there will scarcely be two of these.’ No, davvero, there is not even one!” he muttered in dissatisfaction. But suddenly the mask he was thinking of appeared bobbing round the corner, tripping towards him through a throng of masked ball-goers. “There you are at last, Råiden!” whispered a low, girlish voice. “I, at last? Carina, you are the one who just arrived.” “No, no, on the contrary,” the girl looked hastily about, through the eyes of her mask, “I have been in the camerino all this time, just trying to get by all of the pretty girls who are so vain and throng the mirrors so. Prince Råiden, you want to dance with me, right?” “Hush, no! Well, yes, può essere after a moment,” he added shyly, “but I have something to tell you.” Råiden looked both ways and mysteriously turned his back on the interior palazzo, looking out over the city which lay before them. Arama, for the girl in the mask was she, leaned over the balustrade with him. “Che cos'è?” she asked curiously. “I was just told that Signore Moccenigo died, Arama,” Råiden whispered in a very low voice, so that the girl barely caught the words. A shiver went down Råiden’s spine. “Capire, see this, bambina.” Arama’s eyes opened wide and her face turned pale and she was glad that it was hid behind a mask. The paper that Prince Tígrisdýrið showed her had a few quickly scrawled words upon it, and the girl recognized that feverish handwriting at once. If I perish I hereby swear that Luca di Carli is the author of my death, beyond the shadow of a doubt in my own mind. Råiden, domani I will pass you another letter in the same way. You must open it only if some disgrazia happens to, tuo veramente, Signore Brabantio Moccenigo. Råiden crushed the letter in his hand again and shoved it down into one of his colorful pockets. “What?” faltered Arama, “Whatever would the Rego do that for?” She turned away and put her hand up under her mask to her face. She leaned against a pillar to steady herself, and bit her lip as she felt tears spring to her eyes. How much did Råiden know? What if… what if he knew too much? She took a deep breath and realized that Råiden was speaking to her. No, it was not Råiden. Behind them a barely articulate voice murmured, “That is what we have to trovare—to find out,” as a masked person brushed past them. Arama started again, staring at Råiden with fright in her eyes. “I thought we were alone,” she murmured, her voice trembling. Råiden rapped his fingers on the railing. He looked at the man in the dark red cloak and the black mask as he walked on out of sight, and then he pulled up his own mask and put his mouth to Arama’s ear, whispering through the feathers of her mask. “His father was murdered,” he whispered softly. “I think that the Rego debba stare attento…” Arama opened her mouth but words wouldn’t come out. She raised her hand to the Kolgari’s forehead and gently combed back his wild, matted hair, too frightened to speak. He little knew that she used the very same hand that had pulled the trigger of a crossbow on Brabantio Moccenigo just days before. Suddenly a fellow in an extravagant and costly gold mask strolled carelessly around the corner of the wall and set his eyes on her with an expressive look, visible even through the eyeholes of his mask. Arama’s heart beat faster, and she tried to suppress it, for she feared that at any second Råiden at her side might hear it. But Prince Råiden stepped aside for just a moment, hurrying after Ilazio Moccenigo to bring him back. The man in the gold mask stepped up to Arama with a gallant bow. “Mi faresti l'onore di un ballo?” “No, Luca, you must not!” Arama urged, blushes covering her face as she pulled her hand away from him. She suddenly felt very hot under her mask. “No!” she pushed the Rego away from her. The music was starting. Arama caught Råiden looking back at them out of the corner of her eye. Luca di Carli abruptly grabbed both her hands and pulled her up off the balustrade against which she was shrinking. “Oh, su coraggio, what is the matter with you?” he asked gaily. “Signore,” Arama mumbled reluctantly, in protest. She looked directly at Råiden with a stare of hopeless helplessness in her eyes as the Rego whisked her away. “Does Råiden know who Luca is?” she thought uneasily. Råiden did not, but he stared after them in dismay and astonishment. “The first dance was to be mine,” he said to himself, “what is that sciocco doing, dragging her away like that?” He sprinted suddenly forward, hurrying round the corner into the ballroom. “Who is that fellow?” Prince Råiden demanded in an undertone, watching the pair as the man in the gold mask led the ball with his arms around Arama’s waist. He addressed a person in a simple dark green mask and costume, who was also watching how the pair in the feathered headdress and the regal golden mask danced. “Accidenti,” answered the other eagerly, “that I can tell you, for I happened to see him in the camerino for a moment with his mask off.” “Parla amico, what did you see?” asked Råiden in the same eager, urgent tone. He noticed that Arama was dancing distractedly, unevenly, and unwillingly, while to his eye her companion seemed utterly taken up with the dance, not a care in all the world troubling his head, not even the evident displeasure and distress of his dancing partner. Råiden frowned and took a deep breath while he shoved his hands in his pockets. The gentiluomo in the green mask lowered his voice to no more than a whisper as he answered Råiden’s query in a confidential way, “Signore, you may believe me or not, but the compagno dancing there is no other than the Rego of Varlyrio himself. Che ragazza molto fortunata!” “Lucky girl?” Råiden gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in his pockets. Arama was completely overwhelmed with feelings and thoughts and ideas as the Rego led her around the room, twirling her about and holding her close to him. Each time she struggled in his grasp, and Luca grinned at her inexplicable behaviour with a jolly unrelentingness that further exasperated the poor girl in her dangerous position. Her cheeks glowed beneath her mask and she spoke to him in a breathless, barely discernible voice. “Did anyone see you, Signore? Does anyone know who you are?” She looked at him demurely as he spun her around his arm, and he thought he caught a glint of angry reproach in her eyes. “No, it’s scarcely likely,” Luca smiled, “while even if anyone had, you don’t really suppose they would know you also? Sst, anyway, better to dance in silenzio. Who can say that I even know you?” “Avventato,” was all that Arama murmured through her teeth, looking down at the ground, spinning round and round until she was dizzy. When she looked up through the spinning walls and floors of the room she thought she saw Råiden’s mask watching her from a corner, while she saw a man next to him turn to him with a confident remark. They were both watching her. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She couldn’t dance anymore, she was faint and sick and afraid. “Fermare! Stop!” she cried, tearing herself out of Luca’s arms in the middle of the dance. “What, che cosa? Where are you going?” Luca grabbed her wrist, but she jerked away and threw herself towards the doorway, stumbling through the other dancers. Suddenly she slipped on the marble floor as Luca sprinted after her. Her mask had been half torn off her face as the Rego tried to stop her, and her head was swimming. She was afraid that she really was going to fall headlong to the floor, when she suddenly felt a pair of strong arms around her and looked up into Råiden Tígrisdýrið’s face. He crashed back into the corner of the doorpost with the momentum of her rush. “Arama, stai bene?” “Sì, no,” she faltered, looking up with relief into his eyes, “he forced me to dance, the cattivo in incognito!” “Ah, do you know who he was?” “Né mi interessa.” Arama looked about and saw that Luca was leaning against a pillar in the far corner watching her contemplatively. “L'insolente…” Arama didn’t finish, freeing herself from Råiden’s arms and kicking the wall. Råiden put his hand up to her flushed cheek and she gently removed it to rearrange her hair about her face, and to put her mask back in its place. Råiden watched her, observing that her eyes were bright like fire, and that indignation was written all over those pretty cheeks. “Non importa, it was only the Rego, Luca di Carli,” Råiden commented glumly. The instant that he had said it he regretted it. Arama looked at him with a question in her eyes, and then looked quickly back over at the Rego leaning against his pillar. “Davvero?” she said sceptically. “Penso,” Prince Råiden shrugged, cursing inside. Suddenly the fire in Arama’s eyes seemed to double and her face was covered with a pretty blush. “But it is nothing,” she said affectedly, “the Ciotos have always been close to the throne.” “Lui pagherà,” muttered Råiden in an undertone, looking with cold fury over at the Rego, who pushed off of the wall and meandered slowly out of the room. Suddenly Arama leapt up onto the balustrade which overlooked the city, for they had wandered back out into the portico. “Why don’t we make him pay?” she said eagerly, flushing and looking about furtively, her fingers wrapping around the knife she concealed beneath her clothes. At the same moment she felt a paper being thrust into her other hand, and she looked up to find her eyes locked with those of Ilazio Moccenigo, the son of the man that she had murdered. She looked up to find her eyes locked with those of Ilazio Moccenigo. She smiled with a masterful effort and glanced down at the note after looking at Råiden for approval. Hush, read the note, let us meet domani, at the balcone delle Scale. I will be beneath it in a small gondola. Come alone. Råiden read the note upside down and then Ilazio whispered, “Eat it.” The Kolgari stared after him as he melted into the crowd of merry party-goers. “Domani,” Råiden murmured, and by the time he looked back Arama had already swallowed the note. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Previously... Hey guys, here's my second Guilds of Historica wonder, this time for the glory of Varlyrio! This is the first part of a huge collab series that we got together, so stay tuned for more . At the end I'll make one post with the whole story for easy reading, but for the meantime, here's the first instalment! Hope you like it! The Tiger of Illaryian: Part I On the outskirts of Illaryian, for countless thousands of centuries, there has stood a towering statue of a giant stone tiger. Perched atop the tall and elegant Royal Arabesque Mansion, this tiger’s claws scratch the very sky. More than one traveler has come to cringe beneath the looming giant in the dark and gloomy night, at least half convinced that it was some gigantic immortal tiger hound, coming to steal their souls. But not the pair of travelers that stood upon the Tiger of Illaryian this night. “Che bella notte!” murmured a wistful girlish voice. “Luca? Are you happy that you are Rego?” Arama looked into the young man’s bright green eyes as he leaned back against the foot of the giant stone statue. She took his hand in hers, caressing it lightly. Luca di Carli cast his eyes about the sandy outskirts of the city before replying. From the roofs of the old mansion they had a beautiful moonlit view of the entire city of Illaryian, all the way out to the boundless sea in the east. “Why do you want me to talk?” Luca answered in a detached way. “You have qualcosa to tell me.” “Può essere,” she hesitated demurely. He looked back at her at last, with keen interest. “Scommetto!” he said. “Let’s go up to the top!” Arama responded without answering directly, blushing beneath the black hood that was wrapped around her pretty face. She took a deep breath and looked at Luca expectantly. He smiled a dashing smile and put his hands together for her to step in. In just another second they were both crawling across the broad back of the statue, making their way further and further over the edge of the mansion. Now a light mist crept in and began to cover the city in its haze, so that the ground beneath them was lost in its swirling depths. Arama gasped and sat down on the brow of the tiger. “This is the perfect place for my story,” she breathed, looking at the buildings around her with a feeling of excitement and freedom pulsing through her veins. The entire world lay there beneath them! Beneath Luca di Carli and Arama di Athena de Cioto! “Accidenti!” Luca slowly stood up by her side and she gave him her hand again to steady him, looking up into his eyes with just a slight glimmer of fright in her own. Luca stood slowly up by her side, and she gave him her hand to steady him. “Don’t try to go up too high, signore,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “No,” he answered, “no. Don’t push me to go too high, De Cioto.” She laughed and shook her head. “I went to the Sunken City,” she said abruptly. “I know,” frowned Luca, fingering his cloak. He clenched his fist. “I forbade you to go.” “I know. And what you predicted… happened…” Luca looked at her quickly, his eyes wide. “Quasi,” she gulped. “Well?” Luca looked down at his feet, and at the black fog beneath them. “I won’t bother you with all the dettagli. They wanted to kill me, signore.” “The Kolgari?” Arama nodded and swallowed. “Girl! How could you, Arama?” Luca flashed out angrily, dropping her hand and leaping a pace away. “Don’t you care if Varlyrio is torn apart? I warned you. Arama, it was the one thing I told you that you could not do!” “Attento!” the girl called out, leaning forward on her hands. Truly Luca was standing in a precarious position, on the tiger’s upper jaw, directly overlooking the dark abyss. “Come closer to me,” Arama begged. “That’s why I went to the Sunken City! Luca, the Kolgari Elves are wary. After the terrible fashion in which Supano Amancio treated them they are loath to commit to any allegiance beneath a new sovereign. But now, I have a way!” Her eyes shone and she gingerly rose to her feet too, stretching forth both hands towards di Carli. “What do you mean?” Luca asked mistrustfully. “Oh Luca, listen to what happened!” She snatched up his hands from his side to balance herself. “I was in the Sunken City,” she began. “No matter how I got there. Come ho detto, my life was in the gravest danger, for they had discovered that an infiltrator from the world above had come to the caves, and they scoured the forests and dens to hunt me down. But I was not all alone.” “Who was with you,” Luca asked sharply. “He said, ‘They call me The Tiger.’” Arama looked up into Luca’s eyes, a fiery look on her face. “His name is Prince Råiden Tígrisdýrið.” “Is it, ih! Why were you with this Råiden?” said Luca coldly. “He met us as we drew near to the city. His eyes danced when he saw me—Luca, he fell in love with me,” Arama’s eyes danced merrily too. Luca vouchsafed no reply. “But Luca,” Arama said eagerly, grabbing his cold cheeks, and making him sit down by her side, “this Kolgari is from high circles. Circles of elves. Don’t you see? He saved my life. Sì!” she stopped Luca’s mouth, “They poisoned me with their magic, they found me, and I was bleeding to death. Then The Tiger convinced them all, every one of them, to let me leave in the morning.” “But you were bleeding to death!” mocked Luca. Arama laughed and threw back her hood, tossing her hair over her back. “I was in the land of the Kolgari, the most famous magicians in the Guilds! I don’t think anyone else would have cared if I had died, but Råiden took me secretly to an ancient shrine, a beautiful enchanting place, Luca. There he put my hand upon an amulet with a muttered pronouncement, and bene signore, faint and dying one moment, in the next I promettere, I felt healthier and happier than I ever had before in my life, and all my blood came back into me, and my wound disappeared completely. See, here is the scar, all that is left of a deadly wound! That amulet, Rego, is worth more than all of the Kolgari.” “Now suddenly I do not understand why any Kolgari ever die,” commented the Rego ironically. Arama bent over and put her lips to his ear, “Po signore, the amulet can only save humans.” “But who is this Prince Råiden to you?” Luca asked coolly. “Certo, he is my dearest love… when I am with him,” Arama smiled coyly. “Don’t you see you grande idiota! He is the key to the Kolgari. Listen to my plan! I have never made a better one…” Arama hunkered down and cast her hood back over her head, for the night was cold, the mist had slowly vanished, and she would not have been seen by anyone else for all the world… But as for that, it was too late. Not so far off, in the Palazzo Vincenzo—a new mansion under construction on the outskirts of Illaryian, with a charming view of the ancient stone tiger monument—a lone architect still wandered the half built corridors and roofs. But for a while now he had ceased wandering. “Sana Argenta! Tis the Rego,” he murmured keenly, as he knelt down in the shadows behind an empty window and watched the pair of figures on the head of the Tiger of Illaryian. “And that… that is the figure of una signorina—puh! if she is a signorina.” Signore Brabantio Moccenigo, for it was he, put his hand to his forehead and squinted to catch a glimpse of the girl's face beneath her hood, but the moon was to her back, and with an exclamation of disappointment he grabbed the windowsill. “There is something here,” Brabantio muttered. “Qualcosa that is not right. And if only I could use this qualche cosa to my advantage!” Suddenly the girl upon the tiger’s brow laughed and threw back her hood with a gesture, shaking her hair in the wind. Signore Moccenigo gasped. “By Sana Argenta…” was all that he murmured, “It is Arama De Cioto!” .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. Brabantio Moccenigo followed the cloak-and-dagger pair to more than one of their secret reunions. From then on he was their shadow, a dark and sinister shadow, cunning and scrupulous, learning dark secrets and deadly proofs. Brabantio only failed to take into account one thing. If he was dead, none of it could possibly do him any good… One fateful evening as Signore Moccenigo’s plans at last began to fall into place, a little before the sun also fell into its place beneath the horizon, Arama di Athena De Cioto sat out in a wide field upon the grass with Luca di Carli’s arms around her waist. The field was an abandoned one, but even so she was wrapped up closely in a black mantle and hood, and the Rego also was cautiously disguised, so that none should recognize them. But Signore Moccenigo knew their faces and their names, without even seeing them, for he had dogged them there. As he lay hidden behind a small and ruined stone wall he pondered the measures he had taken to ensure success. Was everything completely ready? Had any little detail been overlooked? That very pomeriggio he had finished writing the letters. Already one was in the hands of no one less than Prince Råiden Tígrisdýrið, with directions to open it at once. Moccenigo thought himself very clever for having sought out such a delicate ally, and in the brief letter he promised to send more, which should be opened only if he himself by any chance died. In reality he knew that Råiden would never open the second letter. It was nothing but leverage. He would give it to him at the same time as he sent out the other letter to the Rego. Yes, that was an excellent plan. They would not dare to trouble him—for if any ill befell him they would only end up in worse problems, dalla padella alla brace. Brabantio leaned over the wall to cast a quick glance at the merrily chatting pair. Only he knew the horrible surprise which was in store for them soon. “As you sow you shall reap,” he murmured beneath his breath, forgetting how his adages might always cut two ways. What he fully expected to reap was nothing more nor less than a full king's ransom once they bought him off! He was made for life, and his family would share in the good fortune, although he was not so rash as to let them share in the obvious dangers. Yes, everything was working to perfection. Ricatto had never been so easy! Arama De Cioto was bored. Luca was still vacillating about her plan, and she was sure that he was wasting his time. She rolled over in the grass. “No, I don’t want to be Rego myself,” she grinned, rolling her eyes at Luca as he asked her for the hundredth time. “Then let me be,” admonished di Carli, running his hand through the girl's long hair beneath her hood. Suddenly Arama’s whole attitude changed. What was that? No, it was already gone, but she had seen it clearly. It was someone’s face, watching them from over the low wall to their left! She rolled over in the grass again, her heart in her throat, so that she could look up into the Rego’s face. “I… I have to go, Luca,” she said uneasily, scrambling to her feet and kissing the Rego’s hand. “Le mie scuse, sorry! Addio!” She walked slowly backwards, watching Luca’s baffled face, until she got around the corner of a wall. Then she turned and ran. She ran around in a half circle, as fast as she could, until she found herself watching the wall from which they had been watched. There was no one there! But to the left there was a man on his feet, walking swiftly towards the Northern Gate of Illaryian. He was the only person on the horizon. She crept after him. If he was going to go far she would need a horse… but then she didn’t really need to know where he was going, if she could only get close enough she would see the coat of arms upon the man's breast coat, perhaps even recognize his face. Arama clenched her fists and grasped the hilt of her knife. As the man entered a tavern stable to search for his horse she saw the sigil upon his sleeve. The house of Moccenigo! She would be there before the clocks struck midnight, and she guaranteed that whichever Moccenigo this was, his life would not be a long one. “Kiss your soul goodbye,” she murmured softly into the air, as she wheeled round and hurried off into the night. But after all the sun was high in the sky the next day when a dark figure rode up to a halt before the beautiful Villa Moccenigo in Porto Caglaveri. “I am here before him,” muttered the masked figure, slipping off the horse and leading it around to a picket. “Aspettami,” she whispered to the horse. Arama had been riding through the night here and there, following the mysterious Moccenigo wherever he went, until at last he left Illaryian completely behind, and divining that he was at last headed for La Villa Moccenigo, she put the spurs into her horse and reached her destination before him. All was prepared now. But she had to make sure that her move was a final one. There could be no loose ends, lest for lack of caution the house of di Carli come tumbling to the ground, and the house of De Cioto along with it. With a bound she was over the fence into the Moccenigo Villa grounds. Arama looked up at an open window on the second floor and a look of determination flitted across her face beneath the mask. All was dark within that room, although in others candlelight was visible behind the curtains. “That is where I must look, scommetto,” she said hoarsely. She sprang swiftly up onto the wall, climbing with agility from sill to sill and from corbel to corbel until she reached the window on the second storey. With one quick glance inside she pushed it open and slipped in. She closed the window after her. Arama stood in a darkened study filled with bookshelves and counters, with a beautiful desk right beside the large sash window through which she had entered. “Ehi!” she whistled beneath her breath, rushing over to the desk upon which lay certain opened papers and letters. “Brabantio Moccenigo,” she purred threateningly, reading his name from off a dozen papers. She paled as she hastily looked more closely over the first one that came to her hand. “Accidenti! he knows far too much! Meno male I am in time!” she cried in a fierce undertone. With a bound she reached the door. It was a private study. “Tis locked! Che fortuna! The secret is still safe, these letters prove themselves to be the only ones that he has written, and they could not have been perused by any other within the house. He would not have allowed them in. No, he would not have left the papers exposed were it not a safe room, where no one but himself ever entered.” With a rough hand the infiltrator spilled the other papers about upon the floor and searched the drawers carefully for more evidence—but besides the two letters upon the desk, one of which had been addressed to the Rego, and the other to an anonymous individual, there was nothing whatsoever to interest her. Still, for precautions sake Arama seized several important blueprints, documents relating to the construction of a Cattedrale in Caglaveri, and other architectural papers. She shoved them all into her bag and hid behind the broad and heavy curtains with a grim smile. Across her back was slung a light crossbow and a full quiver, and the crossbow was already loaded… “Signore Brabantio!” exclaimed the masked figure suddenly, hearing a horse gallop into the yard without. Arama spun swiftly round and looked down towards the entrance. A lacchè was opening the gate for a tall man upon a handsome white horse. Even in the distance Arama recognized him at once. She closed her eyes briefly and felt that she could still see that face peering over the low stone wall at Luca di Carli and at her. She grit her teeth and shifted uneasily behind the curtain. Then suddenly a calmness took over her frame, and she felt that she was no longer even Arama di Athena De Cioto: she was only a nameless assassin now. With a cool pert look upon her face she watched as Brabantio Moccenigo exited the building again with a hurried step and remounted his horse. Then she opened the window with a gentle movement, stepped out onto the roof again, and followed him. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Deep in the east Varlyrian countryside, far from the bustling canals and thriving cities, lies a wonder of Historica. This shining cathedral is one of several holy sites throughout Varlyrio maintained by an order of Priestesses dedicated to keeping these sacred sites in pristine condition. The temple is renowned for its beauty and craftmanship and intricate tilework, and when the bell tolls people come from far and wide to gather in prayer. Following Dan's trip in Kaliphlin, the next destination of his travels ended up being the beautiful land of Varlyrio. After a long, boring journey full of seasickness, drinking and dreary traveling he finally found himself in the countryside of Eastern Varlyrio, and after dealing with some business in a nearby town Dan found himself with a bit of spare time. So of course when a local mentioned a wonderous place nearby he decided to stop by and visit. However, when he finally arrived at the temple he found the doors barred and the bell silent, quite a difference from the open, welcoming atmosphere he had been told of. Fearing something was amiss, he traveled back into the nearby town and recruited some help in the form of some brave Avalonian soldiers currently vacationing in the area. With some hints from one of the locals they were able to find a secret entrance to the temple and made their way inside. Once inside they discovered that their suspicions had been right. The priestess was locked away in one of the long unused cells beneath the temple, and once they freed her she explained that bandits had come, stolen some provisions and valuables from the temple, and locked her away. Interior Pics:

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.

After a few months (got a new born son, and we called him Moos)... finally with x-mas some time to build. Kashgar is growing and every day new shipments and tradegoods are unloaded by the many ships that enter the harbour. Taxes need to be payed and smuggleware has to be reduced to a minimum, so the Khaor family build a small customs office at the end of the docks. The Lionelle called Shimbash leads a small unit of soldiers and officers to ensure no illegal goods enter Varlyrio from this port.

Hi there! Would like to present my third (already?) moc for the Varlyrio Guild Challenge. It is for 2E: Varlyrio Scenery - Sunken City. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ah, it's you again! How do you blewe? You are becoming kind of a regular in these waters. Float a little bit closer, and i am going to share a secret with you! Can you keep a secret? Of course you cannot! However, it is imperative that i fin you in. Sooner or later, you would notice it anyway. Are you ready? Once upon a tide, long after mer folk moved into Lorelei Loch, they discovered something that completely changed our fate. They found a mersterious pond, filled with magic. In all likelihood, it is a consequence of centuries of magic used to make Horthol, the Sunken City liveable. All the preternatural powers the kolgari and others casted into the environs, somehow cumulated and made this supernatural pool. We named it "Brunnen der Veränderung" in our tongue- the "Well of Transformation" or something like that is the direct translation, but you mer friend can just simply call it the "Spring of Styx" on your common drylander language. Styx was the name of the mergygur who swam across it first. I mean a female finvolk. A nixe. A male is called a nix by the way. WoT01 by Erhard Maas, on Flickr Okay, okay, i won't swim around the kelp anymore! The place can transmute mervolk into surface strollers, and back. All hail Pontus! Now, what do you say about that?! I might add, mer folk weren't very enthusiastic to go dry, but it was too great of an opportunity to just ignore it. It was a small step for mer, one giant leap for merkind. The kolgari helped us a lot to acclimate, and we had the chance to meet a lot of other dust dwellers, who lived in- and around the Sunken City. I mean, we knew these people before, but now it was from a totally different perspective. Mer folk, the mervolk stood on two legs. It wasn't easy at first, but we learned a lot, and gained not less. We looking at the drylanders differently. I know, i know, we still don't fancy them. But it was worse in the past. Let mer hear your questions! I can see it in your eyes, you have some. No, it seems it won't work on other beings. Some kolgari, and non- elves jumped into the well before, but nothing happened, except they became wet. Don't have the slightest idea, why it is only working on us. I can tell you fish don't grow legs neither, if we carry them through. Who? Children of Ceto? They didn't try it yet, as far as i know. Wanted to persuade Octavia to give it a shot, but she wasn't so eager, so i let it go. Where is the well? Well, it can be found in an extraordinary place called Eventide Forest by the Kolgari. Huge dread ash, and midnight maple trees. Dread ashes with their dark red leafs, and orangish flowers. It has also a yellow fruit, the curvy finger. I like it very much, but the webbed winged filcher- which is a smaller flying animal- usually steals most of them. Oh, i saw some different dryland animals too! Well, partially dryland. There was the sun anuran- a very rare frog, and the mavros ophidian. Be careful with that sneaky serpent! Oh, and the drop skorp! That is especially a nasty one, when jumps from the tree into your hair! Lunacy! There were other animals too, like bugs! Big, ugly bugs! When i first saw them, i almost went back underwater immediately... WoT04 by Erhard Maas, on Flickr But we intend to stay above ground with this conversation for a bit more! Be nice now, because i would like you to meet a friend of mine. She is mer "link". Traditionally, when a marmennill, or margygur enters the surface world for the first time, the kolgari assign an aid/ guide to the new fin on the block. We call this person "link". A connection with the surface world. Her name is Coventina, and she is a kolgari circe- a sorceress, so do not offend her because you might find yourself in the shape of any aforemertioned creepy- crawly... May the water flow with you! WoTWP by Erhard Maas, on Flickr ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- More pictures can be found in my Flickr album.

Previously... <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Raven Fernwood was a bigger man than I had thought. I had expected a meeting with one of the heads of the Trading conglomerates, or perhaps their representative. Instead, tucked in an alley in the town of Gromm, the Governor of the Wastelands was staring past me. We were standing outside of a monastery of some kind, or at least I assumed a monastery. This was it. This was my chance. Refusing to look at me, the Governor cleared his throat. "I understand you know Raven Fernwood." "Perhaps I do." He opened his mouth, then closed it. Struggling, he managed, "So you are the survivor of the civil war inside the Marauders we have to deal with." A fire welled up inside me. All forethought left me. I slammed my helmet on the cobblestone street. "I'm no Marauder. I am Aarinstahrr of the Black Lodge, Raxus Orsen Waythe, warrior of the wastelands. You didn't get a new band of Marauders. The Marauders are dead and gone, in the ash heap of history as far as I'm concerned. And I was the one that broke them." Where disgust had once been, intrigue replaced it. "Why?" And then my speech came to me. "Perhaps you haven't realized, Governor, but a Queen sits on the throne of Historica. For many a year, we have had freedom in our affairs, with no one to rule these lands. And we have flourished. Gromm was once a hut and a well, and now it sits as the crystal in the rocks of the wasteland. But the Queen has acted, taking from one mouth to give to another." "For the good of those starving," he replied, slowly. I smiled. A wolfish smile. I could see it unnerved him. "Sure, of course. For the good of the people. And then, Governor, for the good of the people she will move our troops to borders more important to her. And then for the good of the people, she will take our wealth, which we bleed for, and give it to those who can't pull themselves out of a bottle. She will create charters, without which it will be illegal to trade as we have. And we will be powerless to stop her." "She is a good woman." "So were many, before they felt the power in their hands. I know not her heart, but I have seen the lust of Kings, and I assure you she is not immune from it. None are." "Then we are once again under a..." The Governor looked at me. "Unless we act now. I am no refined gentleman, but I am not a barbarian. Where the Marauders brought chaos, I can bring order. Order necessary to maintain a free Varlyrio. Order necessary to see our fruits continue to mature. You and I, we will check each other. As long as we stand united, Varlyrio shall bow to no grant Queen. But if I am to be an agent of order, I need a seal." "What do you need?" And here came the money part. I was gambling, gambling more than I ever had. What I was asking was not just a risk to myself, but to Varlyrio. But I needed it. "I need to appointed Judge." "The Wastelands haven't had a Judge since Revolwold," The Governor murmured. "Nonetheless it is what I require. Think, Governor. The return of the Judge would mean trade routes would be even safer than they were, more open to commerce. And more to the point, Queen's edicts would be under my purview to enforce. But as the Judge's code states, my duty is to enforce just laws, and just laws only." "I am taking an awful risk, Orsen Waythe. If I am to do this, I must have one question answered. Why did you leave your leader, at a moment your aid would have been indispensable." Unexpected, but bitter all the same. In the end, it was a small price to pay, but I still hated paying it. "I was his son, not his 'adopted son'. He wished me to marry my half-sister, and she wished the same. He told me I would do it, or die. So I left." "Oh that our secrets will remain better hidden," The governor said, with genuine weariness. "You shall have your warrant. I will bring back the position of Judge of the Wastelands."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Business Since the death of the last Aarinstahrr, the Black Lodge Trading Company had suffered. We operated out of the wastelands of Varlyrio, and as such needed a firm grip to keep the trade routes open. But even with my return, funds were simply insufficient. When this happens, options start to shrink. I was told that I needed to sell the company. I had no intention of doing so. Instead, I started a protection business. If we could morph the company from a mere shipping enterprise into the true muscle of the region, our power would only grow. And it was this that had me on the one road through the rocky narrows, a pathway through what had become barren country, unfit for travel, or residence. I needed to make clear why protection from the Company was necessary. Three travelers, unwary of a road they should have been wary of, proved an opportune beginning. They looked shocked when my lancers surrounded them. "What is the meaning of this?" The Goblin looked furious. "You carry much, travelers. But you carry it with little protection." The human girl, from Kaliphlin by the look of it, appeared stricken. She looked back at the lone soldier, carrying nothing more than a crossbow. It would do little against the spears and shields of my troops. "Do you have any idea how much I paid to have safe passage through these parts? Any idea, human?" "Your folly. But I'm not here for your money, goblin. My name is Orsen Waythe, and I take it you intend to see your goods to a city. I need you to carry a message with them. You see deep into the trees?" "I see bodies, strung up like cattle." "Marauders. They've ruled the wastelands for as long as I can remember. And I want you to tell everyone you meet that I and my men killed them, and are willing to offer safe passage to anyone and anything through these lands....for much less than the marauders demand. For far too long, the Marauders have been a thorn in the side of the Black Lodge Trading Company and the good citizens of Varlyrio. No longer." "That's it?" The goblin looked shocked. "Tell them you just butchered the biggest bullies in the business?" "Oh, it's my business now, Goblin. Make sure they know the mark of the Dragon means death to any Marauder who interferes with my shipping routes again. And let the people know they need not fear these masked terrorists any longer." "So be it, Orsen Waythe. I will take your message."

Hello again! Thanks for stopping by! Here is my second moc for the Varlyrio Guild Challenge. It is for 1B Family and known associates. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Octavia... What can i tell you about her? I've defeated her pet kraken once. Nobody anticipated that! That is how i've got mer scar on mer face. I mertioned it earlier, if you were paying attention. I think she will never forget it, nor forgive it, but that is when we crossed currents for the first time, and later we managed to form a bond. A strange friendship i would call. Merbe more? She is an octopus lady or something, a daughter of Ceto. Scary creature of the deep. Like mer sisters... Did i mertion, she has eight legs? Strong, large, long, lime limbs, with sticky stuff on them. I believe its called suckers. Well, it sucks to be grabbed with those, i can tell you that! Squeezes you like you were a sponge on the waterbed. She was not friendly at first, and that is an understatement. So under, it's underwater. Utterly hostile, but nowadays she "tolerates" us. Mer, a little bit more. Her older sister Pri'Scylla is not like that, but she is getting there i presume. I'd like to. Until then, Octavia is the connecting link between our volk. We had our battles, and differences with the Children of Ceto, but these days there is a fragile truce between our people. Officially. Back to Octavia Oceana. That is her whole name by the way. Do not tell anyone, i told you! I will deny it! She would hug me to death with her tentacles. Not a bad death, but still a death. Anyway, she has long dark green hair like a garden of beautiful seaweeds. Eyes, as dark as the depths of the waters, a killer stare, which is one level less menacing than the petrifying gaze of her younger sister Echo. Alluring lips, pretty, but assertive face, with some shiny silverish lines all over it. She likes the deepest parts of Lorelei Loch. The ice cold water is her favourite. Not a big social... How do you dryskins say it? Social butterfly? She has a soft spot for abandoned places, especially ship wrecks of yours. Knows how to defend herself, but not a fan of fighting. Do you want to know more? Mer too! OctaviaIntro3 by Erhard Maas, on Flickr IMG_2902 by Erhard Maas, on Flickr OctaviaUW2 by Erhard Maas, on Flickr IMG_2917 by Erhard Maas, on Flickr More pictures can be found in my Flickr album.

"Long ago, far to the southwest of all of Historica... "There lay, and there lies still, a tall and lonely city, which is called, Ilesole." "Forgive me! Please!" "It is not for me to forgive..." "But if the skies above can be measured, and the foundations of the earth searched out beneath... "If the sea into which he was cast is washed away with time, "If the sun dries up that sea so that the water no longer parts us, if he can walk from there to here! "Oh, then will the child be forgiven; then will he also be pardoned… "For what he hath done…" “Water… is merciful…” “Not like fire.” “My name is Ásgeir Di Cioto... I come from Ilesole.”

A Semi-Typical Specimen of Median Size (But Slightly Above Average Size) Gnome Dwelling Demonstrating the Current Gnome Residential Practices in Varlyrio Proper (Not Having Appropriately Surveyed Those Dwellings Beyond the Limits of Varlyrio) or Gnome Home (East Varlyrian) Provided here is a semi-typical specimen of median size (but slightly above average size) Gnome dwelling demonstrating the current residential practices in Valryio proper. NOTE: This representation does not include those dwellings currently established outside of the Varlyrian continuous landmass as a proper survey of these extra-Varlyrian structures has not been properly completed. This survey is approximately 23.63% complete at this point, with an estimated approximate completion date in 14.5 years, with a standard allowance of 14.2% in either direction. SUBNOTE: Additional information on the progress of this survey can be found in Volume 46 of "Established Standards, Practices and Societal Norms of Gnome Society, And All Associated Concepts and Appurtenances of Relevance" by the Inter-Guild Society of Gnomish Researchers, Inventors, Technologists and Academics (IGSGRITA). The prototypical Gnome presented is myself, Kerstibal Bigglemont - Gnome Artificer and Inventor Extraordinaire, Future-Archaeologic Resource, and IGSGRITA Certified Master Academic. This is a typical Gnome home, incorporating steam power, hot water heating, and other advanced technologies with varying degrees of success and efficiency. The hot air balloon is a common gnome mode off transportation, and perfectly exemplifies the path of gnomish invention and technology - it sometimes takes you where you want, if you plan ahead, but often takes you in a completely unanticipated direction.

Enter the de Fiori forge! Only the finest and strongest of Varlyrian blades come out of these furnaces, crafted by the sword-making master of the family, Cioro de Fiori. Along with his children, Bjarke and Gionna, Cioro makes almost all of the daggers and swords which originally gave birth to the rise and fame of the de Fiori's. The fire: Gionna de Fiori: And one last overview of the scene: Well, I think that wraps up my family member vigs for now! Check out the last of the new characters here. HQ and the forge pic that I was basing this off of inspired me to try some scene lighting here - getting it just right for the pictures was definitely a pain, but I'm quite happy with the results! Also another entry to CCCXVI (or whatever number we're on now ) - most just because it happened to fit the interior category. Thanks for viewing, C&C are welcome as always!

Previously... The Highridge Foothills, Eastern Varlyrio The journey from Illyrian was long and Fel was in a hurry, setting a quick pace that set Fizzum to grumbling the whole way. When he finally took over, far outside of the city and away from any road that Fel knew, his pace was no less relentless. She expected the Lady Tisha to complain, but she never did. Every time Arrea offered to carry her pack or help her in any way, Tisha happily ignored her and walked a little quicker. She prattled and questioned in an endless wave, wanting to know everything about everything. It seemed that she was stopping every few feet by the time they reached the end of their path. Fizzum had led them down a what was once a busy road, now returned to the land by time and disuse. "Fah! We'll never get there if you don't pick up that child and drag her along!" "I'll do no such thing. My lady, please ignore that fool." "Fool is it? Fool? Look before you, we've finally arrived and it's pretty flowers and insects that you're concerned with." "I hate to admit it, but he's right. That's got to be some kind of door." "It doesn't look much like any door I've ever seen." "On account of it being a gnome door!" "It's got no latch or hinges, Fizzum." "Fah! Of course it has. You just can't see 'em with your baby eyes. Door operates by steamworks. You just got to know how to talks to it." "Well, let's not keep our guide waiting you two. It'll be dark soon and we don't know what awaits us inside." "You don't, but I do." "I'll bet it's not so bad." "If you're lucky, you won't have nightmares the rest of your days." "I'll ask you again not to speak to the Lady that way, Master Gnome." "I was talking to all of yous!" "Well, that's ominous." "More like exciting!" "Fah! Fah, I say! Let's us just get on with it."

Illaryian, Varlyrio Even in times of peace, it is sometimes necessary to maintain the practices of war. Supano Amancio and his advisors considered ways to fulfill the Queen's decree and eventually had the idea of reviving the old sport of Calcio as a way to not only promote cohesion between the Guilds, especially newly welcomed Varlyrio, but also as a way to keep the warriors of the Guilds doing something where their skills are useful off the battlefield. An exhibition game between teams made up of Kaliphlini and Mitgardian warriors was hastily planned. The warriors, of course, very much enjoyed a chance to meet on any field of honor. It's important to remember that Calcio is a rough game, however, The ball is heavy and must be maneuvered with the full strength of the body. Between the ball and the martial prowess of the players, Calcio often leads to injuries. The Mitgardian and Kaliphlin onlookers react with horror or elation as a Mitgardian player goes down in a spray of blood across the sand. The Varlyrians in the crowd are mostly bemused at the peoples of other Guilds playing their ancient sport. Queen Ylspeth herself has turned up for the exhibition. Though a part of her would rather be walking among the people, taking in their reactions and the general pulse of her subjects, she can't argue with the superior view of the game from the rooftop. She is flanked by Cedrican guards and N'ri, her friend from Mwamba, as well as a young woman from Mitgardia. Alva Tyrnsdottir has walked a long road from Arnarvhall, but she is proud to be in the Queen's service. As trade and travel open between the Guilds, plenty of people from Kaliphlin are able to show up for their team's big game. On the other side of the sand, the Mitgardians have also turned up in numbers. Unused to the heat of Varlyrio, many have shed their furs and leathers in favor of the lighter clothing of their southern territories. Varlyrians move about the plaza where the game has been set. A Knight of Sana Argenta offers water to a thirsty minotaur sailor. Warriors, sailors, and people from all around Varlyrio move about on their business or stop to watch. Crown Knights of Cedrica mix with Varlyrian orders, prominently patrolling in parade armor to show that they are there to keep the peace and promote the mix of cultures. The game also provides a good cover for meetings of import between important Guild Leaders... Supano Amancio and Elon Chorian make no effort to hide who they are, nor what they discuss. For now, this is a chance meeting (or meant to seem like one) which, for anyone who doesn't know Chorian, might explain why he has no guards. Amancio is flanked by two members of other Varlyrian Houses, periodically drafted as ceremonial guards to promote cooperation among the Houses and giving a Rego a chance to get to know rising stars. It seems obvious that these two may meet again. Perhaps with the High Queen. Perhaps not. What might come out of that meeting, however, is anyone's guess... -- Thanks for looking! Builder's Notes:

Previously Even for Varlyrio it was an unseasonably warm winter's day, and it seemed as if half of Illaryian was in the stands to watch the races. With the queen's call for entertainment, the Supano Amancio had asked all of the finest horse breeders in Varlyrio to prepare their steeds to compete in the largest horse racing event in a generation. Outside the capital in an area of flat land the nobles had put up stands from which to watch the entertainment, which had turned into a competition to show of their wealth and status. Staffen had paid for a grand timber frame to be made in a style celebrating Varlyrian's ancient past, and once the labourers had made the structure safe he arranged for plasterers to come and cover it in stucco and paint it white. Finally, a few artists had come and added some detail to it to help make it stand out. It hadn't been cheap, but there was no mistaking that the Conzaga's had arrived. Staffen knew that he had to. After the recent attempt to poison his son Bernaldo he had to show his enemies that the Conzaga's would not be bowed by the threats. Bernaldo was his son and, at least nominally, his heir. Staffen had situated him pride of place in the front row of the stand guarded by his own minotaur bodyguard. "But father, no-one would dare attack us in public like you think! Minos can take the day off and enjoy the races.", said Bernaldo when he was told of the plan. This was typical of his naivety - he had underestimated the ruthlessness of his family's enemies - a mistake Staffen would not make twice. Staffen insisted it was Minos or he stayed inside the manor and Bernaldo reluctantly agreed. After being cooped up for weeks for his own safety Staffen knew his son would leap at the opportunity to get his freedom for the day. Around the grandiose Conzaga display was simpler timber stands for the ordinary folks. The crowds chattered loudly enjoying the day away from their trades. At the opening ceremony, they cheered for the riders; when they thundered passed they whooped and groaned and money changed hands and back again. But Staffen was not even listening, he had more important matters on his mind. As part of the queen's push to impress her subjects the Conzaga's had been approached to freely give out their wine to the common folks. When Staffen had objected to this, the envoy had opened a chest and the sparkling contents made him reconsider. There was a queen's ransom in diamonds inside! It was easily enough to pay for every man, woman and child in Historica to forget their woes for the day. While the diamonds were a welcome boost to the Conzaga treasury Staffen's head spun at what to use it for. He could raise an army to muscle out his competitors, bribe spies to find Bernaldo's attacker or build an impressive architectural feat to make him remembered down the ages. Whatever he decided Staffen knew - this was a good day for the Conzagas.

It is a good thing that Bran keeps a short leach with his family on the other sde of the ocean. The abundance of food that grow in Hemresa, a large island within the borders of Avalonia, is a good trade good versus the high quality clothing that the Khaor supply. The Khaor family have a small fleet of trading vessels like the one shown below, that sail to and from Varlyrio and Kashgar almost all seasons of the year.

Although the Khaor family thinks that anything cultural is a waste of precious time, they can't let the golden city of Kashgar live without the grandeur of a theater. Every seventh day of the week a small group of actors perform a comedy play. In this case a Kaliphlin soldier who has to fight an evil witch. This way, the Khaor can contol the entertainment in the city. Circus and other artists have to audience before Throll first before allowed in the city. *HSS - Entertainment The open air theater is also suited for my MOC of Kashgar

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> The Gauntlet had been thrown down. Never in my wildest dreams had I entertained the idea that the Marauders would fall for my trap so perfectly. They were the old guard, furious at an affront to their 'honor'. All it required was an easy sale of some Black Lodge Dragon armor to the Queen's troops. Just as I foresaw, instead of making their presence felt, after a raid and nothing more than a few broken bones, the Queen's troops left in a huff, ready to tell their monarch of the barbarians in western Varlyrio. Then I struck. The information on their camp had not come cheap, but it had come so easy I feared the worse. So instead of a march, I led shock troops, my lancers into the Marauder camp. In one swoop, I broke the reigning power over these wastelands for 20 years. But the treacherous line I would have to walk was only getting harder. The Company's forces were holed up in Fort Defiance. Thanks to the last Aarinstahrr, Fort Defiance was well supplied and had the geographical advantage of covering the only water for many miles. And while the last remnants of the Marauders were destroyed, here I plotted. I summoned the only two other stake members in the company, neither of which were particularly thrilled with the turn of events. "I suppose I needn't ask which part of you did the thinking about this particular decision." Corcoran played a soldier, a politician, a businessman, but none of them as well as he played a cynic. "My thoughts exactly." Raven Fernwood was a man of means and had taken a risk investing in Black Lodge given that the Company had just been taken over by an illegitimate son who had not been seen in years. But while he was a bigger liability than Corcoran, he was also more amiable to my ideas. "Read the dispatches coming from the Queen's court. We just bought ourselves the Queen's blessing for a business we just eliminated our main rival in." I smiled. "Perhaps you don't realize the-" "I damn well know what the Queen's hand means," Fernwood interjected. "I never swore fealty to some grant monarch. It's the last thing we need." "You think I'm putting all my eggs in a sovereign hundreds of miles from here? Think bigger. This is PR. I would never have taken down the marauders this easy if not for the fact that people hate them. We cannot let that happen." "Which is why I opposed expanding into protection in the first place," Corcoran complained. "No, stop and listen," I snapped. "The Wastelands bow to no king. But some law and order is required. And if we want a free Varlyrio, we need to be the thing keeping it free. The Queen's protectionism won't stop after she gets a taste of the money, let alone the power it holds. If we become the order around here, no Queen's edict will be enforced without our say-so." Raven Fernwood started to smile. "This could work." "Not only work, but this is a solution to more than one of our problems," I said. "All that we need is something, even the tiniest shred of legitimacy. Which is why you two are here. I need to know who to approach." Corcoran looked interested for the first time. "I may have an idea on that front. There are larger Trading Companies that pay for their own private armies, but don't particularly like maintaining them. If you can put on the face of a gentleman, they may just bite. I can get you the locations of their offices, but that may be the best you get." "Give me a few days, and I will have a proposal that they will tell their wives they came up with," I said. My partners shook hands and nodded. I had won the war. It was time to win the peace.

Although much of the lands west of the mountains are left dry and desolate, the people of Nascosta have managed to eek out a living as fishers as vintners among an inlet in the coast nigh the dens of fierce pirates. Similar to the coastal regions of eastern Varlyrio, the buildings are constructed of strong stone and painted brightly. It is a haven for those who wish to live peacefully or continue their illicit deeds under the noses of those more powerful than them. And then there are those who see it as a nice get away from all of the sand and just wish to enjoy some focaccia and local wine by the sea. Grazie mille for looking!

Looking to get together a team of others for Challenge V? Trying to find another member or two to fill up your team? Or are you looking to enter the collaboration category and at a loss how to get started? Here's the place for you! Any and all team building discussion can take place in this thread, and, since there's really no need to keep them secret, I'll also ask complete groups to post here with a list of their team and to mention which Varlyrian family they're planning on building for. Any questions relating to the challenge but not directly to team building can continue in the Challenge thread, and as before, if you have any questions about story or intrigue, feel free to shoot a PM to @Rogue Angel or myself!