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This one's been sitting in my BrickArms case so long, she got rusty!
I tried to keep it subtle and realistic. Success? I think it's not too bad for a "Bebs' Bad Custom!"
-Bebs
Replaced photo. This was taken in sunlight, and the part that looks grainy really isn't - I gave this a patina using wax with metallic particles in it, which does look smooth on the weapon. But the sunlight really flashed on those individual grains!
ROOKIE C-T-26-1409'ECHO' has detailed waterslide's decal's on his torso,back,arm's,hip's and leg's sealed with coat's of clear lacquer.
My second build for LCC, this one is for the GC VI restricted scene category. Sorry for the lengthy story- quite a bit lighter in tone than the last one, as the Minister in question is, well, you'll see. C&C are most welcome, as always!
Only 15 Draken! Mercenary tax, indeed. 16 men and a boy had died for that money; 17 lives all told, and he hadn't even received a Draken a head! Blood silver, that was, and the blasted Queen had taken more than her fair share. Reparations due the nobility!?! Ha! As if the greedy blaggards needed more coin with which to line their bloated pockets!
Hans Zarkan continued on his path through the forests of Eastern Lenfald, silently fuming over the injustice of it all. It had been a simple job from the outset, 50 silver draken for the permanent removal of a band of undesirables that had taken up operations in the area. Broken men they were too, naught more than husks of whatever they had been in years prior; yet more lost souls driven to thievery and madness by the cruelty of the world. He had done his part, and spent three weeks tracking them down to a man. The boy had been the last of them. Tragic, perhaps, but Hans Zarkan was not a man to entertain such inane distractions. The world was harsh and unfair; a fact that ought be learned by those that inhabit it, lest it prove fatal sooner rather than later. That same fact had once again reared its ugly head and left Hans short on money, and high on expenses.
Lacking enough draken to purchase food at a local tavern after paying off a myriad of recently accrued debts, Hans had left town to search for a bit of game. He had been trekking through the forest for a good six hours without much luck when he heard a distant rustling, as though some form of animal may be nearby. Hans silently cloaked himself in the nearest thicket and drew his boot knife. He had never been much of an archer, but why use an arrow where a knife will do?
What came through the woods shortly after however, was one of the last things Hans would ever have expected.
A small procession consisting of nine men were making their way through the forest. They seemed to be trying to pass through with as little fanfare as possible, but this goal was rendered just short of impossible thanks to the heroic efforts of a portly, absurdly overdressed man riding in a litter. The man in question was loudly proclaiming his utter distaste for Lenfald in general, interspersed with insults directed at the unfortunate peasants carrying his litter.
"I say, Captain Zhael, is it not soon that we shall arrive at our destination? I do so tire of all this incessant greenery, and as you know, staying in this litter too long gives me the- watch those branches you miserable bufoons, lest I have you executed for neglect!- the lumps. It is MOST uncomfortable let me assure you." The man spoke with the kind of pretentious, high pitched whine normally reserved for precocious children and government officials. The kind of voice that expanded beyond the region of unpleasant, and into the realm of being offensive to the sensitivity of any unfortunate enough to find themselves within earshot.
"Perhaps your grace would prefer to walk, should the litter continue to be such a burden." The man walking beside the litter, presumably Captain Zhael, responded.
Hans thought to himself for a minute, Zhael- where have I heard that name before...
Hans' train of thought was broken however, as the group neared his location, and he was able to look at them more clearly. 9 men in total, two peasants, the pompous git, a Lenfel pathfinder of some sort that seemed to be guiding the company, and...
Hans narrowed his eyes as he recognized the emblem on the armor of the other 5 men. These were no ordinary travelers. They bore the emblem of the queen on their cloaks, but ordinary soldiers they were not. Hans had seen such characters once before, and it was not an encounter he remembered fondly. These were soldiers of the Queensguard. Unlike the rabble that made up the bulk of the Queen's armies, these were elite warriors trained for the sole purpose of protecting the queen and her most important retainers. It was said that each man of the guard had to prove capable of slaying a score of men single-handedly to even be considered for induction into the ranks. Grim men indeed.
Hans held his position, and his breath, as the company stalled right in front of the thicket he had taken up temporary residency in.
"Walk? You expect me, a man of unfathomable importance to even consider the thought of walking? Absurd!" The man continued as he took a large gulp from the bejeweled goblet he was holding. "You should know better than to make such insolent and ill-informed recommendations Captain Zhael! You had best speak more respectfully when addressing your betters!"
"Of course, Minister Lowe, please forgive my trespass, I meant no harm by the remark." Captain Zhael replied, rolling his eyes when the Minister bent over to take a closer look at something off to the side of his litter.
"Aha! You see here, those Loreesi were right! This is the 2nd frog I've found in two months in this blasted country! It's practically an epidemic! Which reminds me..." The soldiers and the guide stared on in utter disgust as the minister proceeded to bring the poor frog to his mouth and lick it. He smacked his lips and pondered the taste for a moment, then continued his bizarre activity. "Not bad, actually, not bad at all! The Loreesi Ambassador told me of this Lenfel delicacy while I was visiting on business in Balmunatha! It's a bit odd at first, but it seems to be an acquired taste, yes quite pleasant indeed. Almost takes the mind off these horrid lumps!"
Hans nearly choked on the air he was witholding. Minister Lowe? As in Tax Minister Humbert Lowe, the top financial magistrate appointed by Queen Galanir to oversee all new financial regulations and changes made to Roawia? This was the very blaggard who was at the core of these ridiculous overtaxations and fees over the whole of Roawia! Although, seeing him in person, the rapid decline in sanity of the nobility's tax policies suddenly made sense. But what could he possibly be doing here?
"Your grace, as you well know, I am a native of Lenfald, and frogs are not at all considered...." Captain Zhael ceased talking and sighed to himself as the Minister completely ignored him, happily licking his frog and talking to his litter carriers about the various side effects of his lumps.
"Captain Zhael sirrah! I'd rekon we's about only 2 days souf of Crumford, sah! It'll be tougha goens from here on out, this bit of the paff's not been used in decades, so its a bit ovahgrown, sah." The guide had finished cutting enough space for the litter to move through the brush and turned to inform the dour guard captain.
"Very well, then, lead on, I'm not familiar with this part of Lenfald, but I'll be damn glad to be able to pawn him off on someone else for a few days once we get to Crumford." Captain Zhael remarked, the first bit to the guide, the second under his breath. He waved on the rest of the company to move forward with the guide. Just as he was turning to continue on with the rest, he happened to glance over at the thicket where Hans was hiding. He narrowed his eyes, and for a brief second it seemed as though he might investigate further, but it was at that moment the whine of Minister Lowe once again broke the silence of the forest.
"Look at that! A fresh frog- that makes three! Blast it all, three frogs in 2 months, this is quite the epidemic, quite the epidemic indeed! Do you know Captain Zhael, I should instill a frog tax! A frog tax, isn't it brilliant? Captain Zhael? Where has he gone?" The captain sighed, his face twisted into an expression of sheer disgust as he exited the area to attend to the oafish minister.
Hans relaxed, and silently left the thicket. Crumford? Hans thought. Of course the Tax Minister would have to stop at Crumford, it's one of the wealthiest cities in Lenfald! Maybe this day wasn't turning out too badly after all- information on the whereabouts of one of the most hated officials in Roawia should prove quite valuable to the right channels....
THE GREATER GRELL, BEAKED ABERRATION.
Happy #monstermonday everyone!! Today we visit a D&D creature that is as delightfully weird as it is frighteningly intriguing. The design of this creature is... a brain-resembling body with a beak, and several barbed tentacles. It doesn't get much more aberrant than that. While they appear to be senseless creatures, they actually have incredible hearing and a sort of sense that goes beyond what humanoids are capable of. Everything about grell is fascinating, strange, and—well, GRELL.
I was inspired to revisit this odd little creature when I saw the amazing grell builds by @asortaokaybuilder over on Instagram a little bit ago, so if you haven't seen those yet, I encourage you to check them out! I had initially made these creatures for a dungeon encounter yeeeeears ago, but didn't love the way I executed their design, so I decided to redo one. Additionally, as you may well already know about me, I like to take liberties with creatures' size categories, and make them larger than normal to both add more detail, and dial up the fearsome factor a bit! Therefore, I give you the Greater Grell, a grell who has lived and fed a significantly longer time than most grell, and is thus far more powerful. Enjoy!
Very loosely inspired by set Imperial Dropship 75262. I liked the concept of a dropship filled with baddies but...LEGO has never pulled it off. They always seem bare-bones and incomplete.
Microkraft aims to become the world-leading company not with custom but with figure.
For details of Microkraft, please visit 'microkraft.net' .
Microkraft aims to become the world-leading company not with custom but with figure.
For details of Microkraft, please visit 'microkraft.net' .
My seventh build for round two of the Iron Forge 2025!
The seed part, a minifigure head, was used five times (really! 😉)
My second build for LCC, this one is for the GC VI restricted scene category. Sorry for the lengthy story- quite a bit lighter in tone than the last one, as the Minister in question is, well, you'll see. C&C are most welcome, as always!
Only 15 Draken! Mercenary tax, indeed. 16 men and a boy had died for that money; 17 lives all told, and he hadn't even received a Draken a head! Blood silver, that was, and the blasted Queen had taken more than her fair share. Reparations due the nobility!?! Ha! As if the greedy blaggards needed more coin with which to line their bloated pockets!
Hans Zarkan continued on his path through the forests of Eastern Lenfald, silently fuming over the injustice of it all. It had been a simple job from the outset, 50 silver draken for the permanent removal of a band of undesirables that had taken up operations in the area. Broken men they were too, naught more than husks of whatever they had been in years prior; yet more lost souls driven to thievery and madness by the cruelty of the world. He had done his part, and spent three weeks tracking them down to a man. The boy had been the last of them. Tragic, perhaps, but Hans Zarkan was not a man to entertain such inane distractions. The world was harsh and unfair; a fact that ought be learned by those that inhabit it, lest it prove fatal sooner rather than later. That same fact had once again reared its ugly head and left Hans short on money, and high on expenses.
Lacking enough draken to purchase food at a local tavern after paying off a myriad of recently accrued debts, Hans had left town to search for a bit of game. He had been trekking through the forest for a good six hours without much luck when he heard a distant rustling, as though some form of animal may be nearby. Hans silently cloaked himself in the nearest thicket and drew his boot knife. He had never been much of an archer, but why use an arrow where a knife will do?
What came through the woods shortly after however, was one of the last things Hans would ever have expected.
A small procession consisting of nine men were making their way through the forest. They seemed to be trying to pass through with as little fanfare as possible, but this goal was rendered just short of impossible thanks to the heroic efforts of a portly, absurdly overdressed man riding in a litter. The man in question was loudly proclaiming his utter distaste for Lenfald in general, interspersed with insults directed at the unfortunate peasants carrying his litter.
"I say, Captain Zhael, is it not soon that we shall arrive at our destination? I do so tire of all this incessant greenery, and as you know, staying in this litter too long gives me the- watch those branches you miserable bufoons, lest I have you executed for neglect!- the lumps. It is MOST uncomfortable let me assure you." The man spoke with the kind of pretentious, high pitched whine normally reserved for precocious children and government officials. The kind of voice that expanded beyond the region of unpleasant, and into the realm of being offensive to the sensitivity of any unfortunate enough to find themselves within earshot.
"Perhaps your grace would prefer to walk, should the litter continue to be such a burden." The man walking beside the litter, presumably Captain Zhael, responded.
Hans thought to himself for a minute, Zhael- where have I heard that name before...
Hans' train of thought was broken however, as the group neared his location, and he was able to look at them more clearly. 9 men in total, two peasants, the pompous git, a Lenfel pathfinder of some sort that seemed to be guiding the company, and...
Hans narrowed his eyes as he recognized the emblem on the armor of the other 5 men. These were no ordinary travelers. They bore the emblem of the queen on their cloaks, but ordinary soldiers they were not. Hans had seen such characters once before, and it was not an encounter he remembered fondly. These were soldiers of the Queensguard. Unlike the rabble that made up the bulk of the Queen's armies, these were elite warriors trained for the sole purpose of protecting the queen and her most important retainers. It was said that each man of the guard had to prove capable of slaying a score of men single-handedly to even be considered for induction into the ranks. Grim men indeed.
Hans held his position, and his breath, as the company stalled right in front of the thicket he had taken up temporary residency in.
"Walk? You expect me, a man of unfathomable importance to even consider the thought of walking? Absurd!" The man continued as he took a large gulp from the bejeweled goblet he was holding. "You should know better than to make such insolent and ill-informed recommendations Captain Zhael! You had best speak more respectfully when addressing your betters!"
"Of course, Minister Lowe, please forgive my trespass, I meant no harm by the remark." Captain Zhael replied, rolling his eyes when the Minister bent over to take a closer look at something off to the side of his litter.
"Aha! You see here, those Loreesi were right! This is the 2nd frog I've found in two months in this blasted country! It's practically an epidemic! Which reminds me..." The soldiers and the guide stared on in utter disgust as the minister proceeded to bring the poor frog to his mouth and lick it. He smacked his lips and pondered the taste for a moment, then continued his bizarre activity. "Not bad, actually, not bad at all! The Loreesi Ambassador told me of this Lenfel delicacy while I was visiting on business in Balmunatha! It's a bit odd at first, but it seems to be an acquired taste, yes quite pleasant indeed. Almost takes the mind off these horrid lumps!"
Hans nearly choked on the air he was witholding. Minister Lowe? As in Tax Minister Humbert Lowe, the top financial magistrate appointed by Queen Galanir to oversee all new financial regulations and changes made to Roawia? This was the very blaggard who was at the core of these ridiculous overtaxations and fees over the whole of Roawia! Although, seeing him in person, the rapid decline in sanity of the nobility's tax policies suddenly made sense. But what could he possibly be doing here?
"Your grace, as you well know, I am a native of Lenfald, and frogs are not at all considered...." Captain Zhael ceased talking and sighed to himself as the Minister completely ignored him, happily licking his frog and talking to his litter carriers about the various side effects of his lumps.
"Captain Zhael sirrah! I'd rekon we's about only 2 days souf of Crumford, sah! It'll be tougha goens from here on out, this bit of the paff's not been used in decades, so its a bit ovahgrown, sah." The guide had finished cutting enough space for the litter to move through the brush and turned to inform the dour guard captain.
"Very well, then, lead on, I'm not familiar with this part of Lenfald, but I'll be damn glad to be able to pawn him off on someone else for a few days once we get to Crumford." Captain Zhael remarked, the first bit to the guide, the second under his breath. He waved on the rest of the company to move forward with the guide. Just as he was turning to continue on with the rest, he happened to glance over at the thicket where Hans was hiding. He narrowed his eyes, and for a brief second it seemed as though he might investigate further, but it was at that moment the whine of Minister Lowe once again broke the silence of the forest.
"Look at that! A fresh frog- that makes three! Blast it all, three frogs in 2 months, this is quite the epidemic, quite the epidemic indeed! Do you know Captain Zhael, I should instill a frog tax! A frog tax, isn't it brilliant? Captain Zhael? Where has he gone?" The captain sighed, his face twisted into an expression of sheer disgust as he exited the area to attend to the oafish minister.
Hans relaxed, and silently left the thicket. Crumford? Hans thought. Of course the Tax Minister would have to stop at Crumford, it's one of the wealthiest cities in Lenfald! Maybe this day wasn't turning out too badly after all- information on the whereabouts of one of the most hated officials in Roawia should prove quite valuable to the right channels....
This is my party for the Greymane's Haven Adventuring Guild ongoing challenge hosted over on @greymane_guild on Instagram! As these characters have come together, you may have noticed the theme: they're all monstrous! Or monstrous-adjacent. You get the gist. For their story, read on!
Though a great many people live in the main cities of the realm, and a great and diverse cast of characters bustle about their busy streets, there are a few individuals the common people would... rather not do business with, to say the least. An indisputably large portion of these folk come from the village of Montown, nestled in the heart of the Oarbrook Forest. Montown is a place that can be described a number of different ways, depending on who you ask. To some, it is a place of ill repute, where only the desperate go to work. To others, it's a trifle that doesn't deal enough in actual currency of the civilized world to justify trade with. To more yet still, Montown is a home, when much of the world bristles in the presence of their kind. Inhabited by all manners of mortals, the village holds a rather prodigious population of people hailing fron heritages commonly classified as "monstrous" or "exotic," including orcs, minotaurs, kobolds, tabaxi, bugbears, and much, much more. What much of the realm sees as a cesspool full of brigands, charlatans, and ne'er-do-wells, many of these folks see as a haven where they don't need to sanitize their looks, behavior, or even cuisine to fit in.
Coming from this boisterous settlement, we find the heroes of the moment: the Montown Mob. A group of four adventurers well-known in their birthplace for being effective, if a little chaotic, this party is one whose got its sights set on the Greymane's Haven Adventuring Guild. When the call went out for a force of heroes to rise up and oppose the coming threat of the returning Lich King, four brave and lightly demented individuals rose to the occasion to put Montown on the map, and bring respect to their kin. There's Sythil, the Lizardfolk Ranger with a knack for carving bones, Marybeth, the Kenku Barbarian with an unsettling intense demeanor, Borgoop, the Plasmoid Monk who can't ever seem to disappear without leaving a trace, and Pushnik, the Goblin Cleric whose patience when it comes to steering his allies down the right path seems without end. When a situation gets grave, Marybeth is always ready to plunge headfirst into danger. When the way forward is obscured, none know strategy and a path to victory quite like Sythil. When the party is pushed to its breaking point, no one is quite as flexible or full of new ideas as Borgoop. And when the antics of those three nearly land them plummeting off the edge of a cliff, well, it's Pushnik's sage wisdom and sound heart that keep them alive to continue the good work. Though the party has a long ways to go before taking on any truly great evils, it's safe to say: the Lich King will never know what exploits to expect from the Montown Mob. And frankly, neither will Pushnik.
MARYBETH, THE KENKU BARBARIAN.
This is my second character for the Greymane's Haven Adventuring Guild ongoing challenge hosted over on @greymane_guild om Instagram! As these characters come together, you may start to notice a theme...
Marybeth is a frightening, small, yet imposing raven-like humanoid known as a Kenku, and is a Barbarian of the Path of the Berserker. She wields a number of bone daggers and shortswords handcrafted and sharpened by her best friend, Sythil, and employs them to devastating effect. Though she has an impeccable memory when her interest is piqued, her selective enthusiasm often ends up coming back to bite her when a mission isn't completed quite how the client requested it to be. Her intense gaze and movements often unnerve those not familiar with her behavior, but her allies know that her loyalty runs somehow deeper than even her ferocity.
My second build for LCC, this one is for the GC VI restricted scene category. Sorry for the lengthy story- quite a bit lighter in tone than the last one, as the Minister in question is, well, you'll see. C&C are most welcome, as always!
Only 15 Draken! Mercenary tax, indeed. 16 men and a boy had died for that money; 17 lives all told, and he hadn't even received a Draken a head! Blood silver, that was, and the blasted Queen had taken more than her fair share. Reparations due the nobility!?! Ha! As if the greedy blaggards needed more coin with which to line their bloated pockets!
Hans Zarkan continued on his path through the forests of Eastern Lenfald, silently fuming over the injustice of it all. It had been a simple job from the outset, 50 silver draken for the permanent removal of a band of undesirables that had taken up operations in the area. Broken men they were too, naught more than husks of whatever they had been in years prior; yet more lost souls driven to thievery and madness by the cruelty of the world. He had done his part, and spent three weeks tracking them down to a man. The boy had been the last of them. Tragic, perhaps, but Hans Zarkan was not a man to entertain such inane distractions. The world was harsh and unfair; a fact that ought be learned by those that inhabit it, lest it prove fatal sooner rather than later. That same fact had once again reared its ugly head and left Hans short on money, and high on expenses.
Lacking enough draken to purchase food at a local tavern after paying off a myriad of recently accrued debts, Hans had left town to search for a bit of game. He had been trekking through the forest for a good six hours without much luck when he heard a distant rustling, as though some form of animal may be nearby. Hans silently cloaked himself in the nearest thicket and drew his boot knife. He had never been much of an archer, but why use an arrow where a knife will do?
What came through the woods shortly after however, was one of the last things Hans would ever have expected.
A small procession consisting of nine men were making their way through the forest. They seemed to be trying to pass through with as little fanfare as possible, but this goal was rendered just short of impossible thanks to the heroic efforts of a portly, absurdly overdressed man riding in a litter. The man in question was loudly proclaiming his utter distaste for Lenfald in general, interspersed with insults directed at the unfortunate peasants carrying his litter.
"I say, Captain Zhael, is it not soon that we shall arrive at our destination? I do so tire of all this incessant greenery, and as you know, staying in this litter too long gives me the- watch those branches you miserable bufoons, lest I have you executed for neglect!- the lumps. It is MOST uncomfortable let me assure you." The man spoke with the kind of pretentious, high pitched whine normally reserved for precocious children and government officials. The kind of voice that expanded beyond the region of unpleasant, and into the realm of being offensive to the sensitivity of any unfortunate enough to find themselves within earshot.
"Perhaps your grace would prefer to walk, should the litter continue to be such a burden." The man walking beside the litter, presumably Captain Zhael, responded.
Hans thought to himself for a minute, Zhael- where have I heard that name before...
Hans' train of thought was broken however, as the group neared his location, and he was able to look at them more clearly. 9 men in total, two peasants, the pompous git, a Lenfel pathfinder of some sort that seemed to be guiding the company, and...
Hans narrowed his eyes as he recognized the emblem on the armor of the other 5 men. These were no ordinary travelers. They bore the emblem of the queen on their cloaks, but ordinary soldiers they were not. Hans had seen such characters once before, and it was not an encounter he remembered fondly. These were soldiers of the Queensguard. Unlike the rabble that made up the bulk of the Queen's armies, these were elite warriors trained for the sole purpose of protecting the queen and her most important retainers. It was said that each man of the guard had to prove capable of slaying a score of men single-handedly to even be considered for induction into the ranks. Grim men indeed.
Hans held his position, and his breath, as the company stalled right in front of the thicket he had taken up temporary residency in.
"Walk? You expect me, a man of unfathomable importance to even consider the thought of walking? Absurd!" The man continued as he took a large gulp from the bejeweled goblet he was holding. "You should know better than to make such insolent and ill-informed recommendations Captain Zhael! You had best speak more respectfully when addressing your betters!"
"Of course, Minister Lowe, please forgive my trespass, I meant no harm by the remark." Captain Zhael replied, rolling his eyes when the Minister bent over to take a closer look at something off to the side of his litter.
"Aha! You see here, those Loreesi were right! This is the 2nd frog I've found in two months in this blasted country! It's practically an epidemic! Which reminds me..." The soldiers and the guide stared on in utter disgust as the minister proceeded to bring the poor frog to his mouth and lick it. He smacked his lips and pondered the taste for a moment, then continued his bizarre activity. "Not bad, actually, not bad at all! The Loreesi Ambassador told me of this Lenfel delicacy while I was visiting on business in Balmunatha! It's a bit odd at first, but it seems to be an acquired taste, yes quite pleasant indeed. Almost takes the mind off these horrid lumps!"
Hans nearly choked on the air he was witholding. Minister Lowe? As in Tax Minister Humbert Lowe, the top financial magistrate appointed by Queen Galanir to oversee all new financial regulations and changes made to Roawia? This was the very blaggard who was at the core of these ridiculous overtaxations and fees over the whole of Roawia! Although, seeing him in person, the rapid decline in sanity of the nobility's tax policies suddenly made sense. But what could he possibly be doing here?
"Your grace, as you well know, I am a native of Lenfald, and frogs are not at all considered...." Captain Zhael ceased talking and sighed to himself as the Minister completely ignored him, happily licking his frog and talking to his litter carriers about the various side effects of his lumps.
"Captain Zhael sirrah! I'd rekon we's about only 2 days souf of Crumford, sah! It'll be tougha goens from here on out, this bit of the paff's not been used in decades, so its a bit ovahgrown, sah." The guide had finished cutting enough space for the litter to move through the brush and turned to inform the dour guard captain.
"Very well, then, lead on, I'm not familiar with this part of Lenfald, but I'll be damn glad to be able to pawn him off on someone else for a few days once we get to Crumford." Captain Zhael remarked, the first bit to the guide, the second under his breath. He waved on the rest of the company to move forward with the guide. Just as he was turning to continue on with the rest, he happened to glance over at the thicket where Hans was hiding. He narrowed his eyes, and for a brief second it seemed as though he might investigate further, but it was at that moment the whine of Minister Lowe once again broke the silence of the forest.
"Look at that! A fresh frog- that makes three! Blast it all, three frogs in 2 months, this is quite the epidemic, quite the epidemic indeed! Do you know Captain Zhael, I should instill a frog tax! A frog tax, isn't it brilliant? Captain Zhael? Where has he gone?" The captain sighed, his face twisted into an expression of sheer disgust as he exited the area to attend to the oafish minister.
Hans relaxed, and silently left the thicket. Crumford? Hans thought. Of course the Tax Minister would have to stop at Crumford, it's one of the wealthiest cities in Lenfald! Maybe this day wasn't turning out too badly after all- information on the whereabouts of one of the most hated officials in Roawia should prove quite valuable to the right channels....
My first year on Flickr comes to a close! It's been a pleasure to join some of the lovely (and very skilled) people on this platform and add my own builds to the mix, some of which I am very pleased with! I would have loved to have more to show for especially the second half of the year, but as it turns out, being a new dad takes up most of ones time :)
Looking forward to 2025!
My seventh entry for the final round of the Iron Forge 2025!
The seed part, flower stem with three prongs was used a total of 10 times.
Playing around with dark and accentuated lighting is quite new to me, hope it came out okay.
I was bored one day and saw Somer’s LEGO with some dope vehicles included a helicopter so I got to work and made my own version. 👍
My second build for LCC, this one is for the GC VI restricted scene category. Sorry for the lengthy story- quite a bit lighter in tone than the last one, as the Minister in question is, well, you'll see. C&C are most welcome, as always!
Only 15 Draken! Mercenary tax, indeed. 16 men and a boy had died for that money; 17 lives all told, and he hadn't even received a Draken a head! Blood silver, that was, and the blasted Queen had taken more than her fair share. Reparations due the nobility!?! Ha! As if the greedy blaggards needed more coin with which to line their bloated pockets!
Hans Zarkan continued on his path through the forests of Eastern Lenfald, silently fuming over the injustice of it all. It had been a simple job from the outset, 50 silver draken for the permanent removal of a band of undesirables that had taken up operations in the area. Broken men they were too, naught more than husks of whatever they had been in years prior; yet more lost souls driven to thievery and madness by the cruelty of the world. He had done his part, and spent three weeks tracking them down to a man. The boy had been the last of them. Tragic, perhaps, but Hans Zarkan was not a man to entertain such inane distractions. The world was harsh and unfair; a fact that ought be learned by those that inhabit it, lest it prove fatal sooner rather than later. That same fact had once again reared its ugly head and left Hans short on money, and high on expenses.
Lacking enough draken to purchase food at a local tavern after paying off a myriad of recently accrued debts, Hans had left town to search for a bit of game. He had been trekking through the forest for a good six hours without much luck when he heard a distant rustling, as though some form of animal may be nearby. Hans silently cloaked himself in the nearest thicket and drew his boot knife. He had never been much of an archer, but why use an arrow where a knife will do?
What came through the woods shortly after however, was one of the last things Hans would ever have expected.
A small procession consisting of nine men were making their way through the forest. They seemed to be trying to pass through with as little fanfare as possible, but this goal was rendered just short of impossible thanks to the heroic efforts of a portly, absurdly overdressed man riding in a litter. The man in question was loudly proclaiming his utter distaste for Lenfald in general, interspersed with insults directed at the unfortunate peasants carrying his litter.
"I say, Captain Zhael, is it not soon that we shall arrive at our destination? I do so tire of all this incessant greenery, and as you know, staying in this litter too long gives me the- watch those branches you miserable bufoons, lest I have you executed for neglect!- the lumps. It is MOST uncomfortable let me assure you." The man spoke with the kind of pretentious, high pitched whine normally reserved for precocious children and government officials. The kind of voice that expanded beyond the region of unpleasant, and into the realm of being offensive to the sensitivity of any unfortunate enough to find themselves within earshot.
"Perhaps your grace would prefer to walk, should the litter continue to be such a burden." The man walking beside the litter, presumably Captain Zhael, responded.
Hans thought to himself for a minute, Zhael- where have I heard that name before...
Hans' train of thought was broken however, as the group neared his location, and he was able to look at them more clearly. 9 men in total, two peasants, the pompous git, a Lenfel pathfinder of some sort that seemed to be guiding the company, and...
Hans narrowed his eyes as he recognized the emblem on the armor of the other 5 men. These were no ordinary travelers. They bore the emblem of the queen on their cloaks, but ordinary soldiers they were not. Hans had seen such characters once before, and it was not an encounter he remembered fondly. These were soldiers of the Queensguard. Unlike the rabble that made up the bulk of the Queen's armies, these were elite warriors trained for the sole purpose of protecting the queen and her most important retainers. It was said that each man of the guard had to prove capable of slaying a score of men single-handedly to even be considered for induction into the ranks. Grim men indeed.
Hans held his position, and his breath, as the company stalled right in front of the thicket he had taken up temporary residency in.
"Walk? You expect me, a man of unfathomable importance to even consider the thought of walking? Absurd!" The man continued as he took a large gulp from the bejeweled goblet he was holding. "You should know better than to make such insolent and ill-informed recommendations Captain Zhael! You had best speak more respectfully when addressing your betters!"
"Of course, Minister Lowe, please forgive my trespass, I meant no harm by the remark." Captain Zhael replied, rolling his eyes when the Minister bent over to take a closer look at something off to the side of his litter.
"Aha! You see here, those Loreesi were right! This is the 2nd frog I've found in two months in this blasted country! It's practically an epidemic! Which reminds me..." The soldiers and the guide stared on in utter disgust as the minister proceeded to bring the poor frog to his mouth and lick it. He smacked his lips and pondered the taste for a moment, then continued his bizarre activity. "Not bad, actually, not bad at all! The Loreesi Ambassador told me of this Lenfel delicacy while I was visiting on business in Balmunatha! It's a bit odd at first, but it seems to be an acquired taste, yes quite pleasant indeed. Almost takes the mind off these horrid lumps!"
Hans nearly choked on the air he was witholding. Minister Lowe? As in Tax Minister Humbert Lowe, the top financial magistrate appointed by Queen Galanir to oversee all new financial regulations and changes made to Roawia? This was the very blaggard who was at the core of these ridiculous overtaxations and fees over the whole of Roawia! Although, seeing him in person, the rapid decline in sanity of the nobility's tax policies suddenly made sense. But what could he possibly be doing here?
"Your grace, as you well know, I am a native of Lenfald, and frogs are not at all considered...." Captain Zhael ceased talking and sighed to himself as the Minister completely ignored him, happily licking his frog and talking to his litter carriers about the various side effects of his lumps.
"Captain Zhael sirrah! I'd rekon we's about only 2 days souf of Crumford, sah! It'll be tougha goens from here on out, this bit of the paff's not been used in decades, so its a bit ovahgrown, sah." The guide had finished cutting enough space for the litter to move through the brush and turned to inform the dour guard captain.
"Very well, then, lead on, I'm not familiar with this part of Lenfald, but I'll be damn glad to be able to pawn him off on someone else for a few days once we get to Crumford." Captain Zhael remarked, the first bit to the guide, the second under his breath. He waved on the rest of the company to move forward with the guide. Just as he was turning to continue on with the rest, he happened to glance over at the thicket where Hans was hiding. He narrowed his eyes, and for a brief second it seemed as though he might investigate further, but it was at that moment the whine of Minister Lowe once again broke the silence of the forest.
"Look at that! A fresh frog- that makes three! Blast it all, three frogs in 2 months, this is quite the epidemic, quite the epidemic indeed! Do you know Captain Zhael, I should instill a frog tax! A frog tax, isn't it brilliant? Captain Zhael? Where has he gone?" The captain sighed, his face twisted into an expression of sheer disgust as he exited the area to attend to the oafish minister.
Hans relaxed, and silently left the thicket. Crumford? Hans thought. Of course the Tax Minister would have to stop at Crumford, it's one of the wealthiest cities in Lenfald! Maybe this day wasn't turning out too badly after all- information on the whereabouts of one of the most hated officials in Roawia should prove quite valuable to the right channels....
These are my custom Halo ODST troops. There is a video on my channel if you would like to watch check it out m.youtube.com/channel/UCTZGYLzxQfm9HF98b0d10fA. Pieces used are TheMinifigCo: body and legs, Citizen Brick: 2 heads, Brickarms: weapons, eclipseGRAFX: 2 heads and 8 hands.
M-3PX
aka Threx
It is unknown as to the exact origins of M-3PX. An obvious conglomeration of multiple droids the overriding carapace is a 3PX unit. If "Threx" is to be believed he is part of the original Cybot Galactica 3PX series release. Pre-ordered by a Hutt as a body guard/ translator.
After a foiled attempt (Due to Threx's direct influence as he tells it) on the Hutt's life, a damaged M-3PX was tossed into a scrap heap on Ryloth as "Defective Poo-Doo".
Threx was not as badly damaged as outwardly appearances seemed. Over time with the help of a friendly scavenger, he rebuilt himself performing regular upgrades and avoiding memory wipes.
When the scavenger died he manumitted M-3PX in accordance with Old Republic Law, believing M-3PX to be sentient. Some recognize this...some learn to. Though as time has passed, even M-3PX questions the validity of a legal document produced by a Government that no longer exists.
Lego Pokemon Growlithe is the best puppy you could ever dream of right?
From a scale of Pokeball to Masterball, how bad you want him to evolve?!
360 Video here: youtu.be/5wKETfSIAjI
The interior of a custom LEGO train station I designed. If you like it, you can check the instructions here: rebrickable.com/users/symbioza/mocs/
I designed these coaches after the British Rail Mk1 Coaches that were first standardized in 1948, and served until their formal withdrawal in 2001, where they now reside on preservation railways. I designed this coach to be pulled as a pair with the brake coach trailing along behind. This model is not to scale, but because of it being shorter than the scale model it is lighter, and is easier to pull. It does not have a interior to keep the weight and cost down. All black 44728 brackets can be replaced with any dark 44728 bracket. Dk gray, Lt gray, etc. All blue/dark blue bricks in instructions can be replaced with any color. If you encounter any problems with the instructions, or parts list please contact me.
rebrickable.com/mocs/MOC-213374/legoGoneGaming/british-ra...