Legions by Mr. Gould, Makati (2026)

09/08/2025

Sofina, Red Wizard of Thay
(A mythic legions recreation)

Role:
Sofina is a Red Wizard of Thay, an elite group of magic users known for their mastery of necromancy and dark magic. She is an agent of Szass Tam, the Zulkir of Necromancy, who tasks her with taking over Neverwinter.

Goals:
Her primary goal is to turn the citizens of Neverwinter into undead creatures, expanding Thay's influence and power. She also seeks to eliminate those who interfere with her plans, such as the protagonists in the movie.

Powers and Abilities:
Sofina is a powerful spellcaster with expertise in necromancy and dark magic. She can animate the dead, create force fields, control temperature, and use telekinesis, among other abilities. In the movie, she also demonstrates the ability to shapeshift, teleport, and create illusions.

Relationship with Szass Tam:
Sofina is a loyal follower and apprentice of Szass Tam, who directs her actions and goals from afar.

Relationship with Forge Fitzwilliam:
She serves as an advisor and ally to Forge Fitzwilliam, the Lord of Neverwinter, initially helping him gain power before revealing her true intentions.

Softgood by: Tots Action Figures Custom & Dio 👈

01/06/2025

The 12 Vessels of Alyarik

Vessel name: THE MASTER

Sigil: An open hand encircled by prayer beads — serenity forged through discipline.

Race/Class: Human | Hermit Monk of the Four Kingdoms

---

Background:

He walked the edges of the world — not because he was exiled, but because the center was too loud.

In the forgotten reaches that divide the Four Kingdoms of Mythoss — beyond the reach of kings and the judgment of courts — wandered a monk. Known only as The Master, he carried no blade, claimed no temple, and spoke with a clarity that cut deeper than any sword.

In the outlands, where conflict simmered and old wounds festered, he was a quiet force of change. He would appear in fractured villages, war-ravaged settlements, or bandit-controlled roads. He did not arrive to conquer — he came to listen. And when he spoke, his words remade men.

“True discipline,” he once told a soldier, “is doing what you hate, and doing it like your soul delights in it.”

“Fear guards the gate to wisdom. Those who avoid it remain blind. Those who step through it awaken.”

He accepted only a handful of students across decades — and only those who passed three silent trials: to endure pain, to embrace truth, and to let go of identity. Those who failed left changed. Those who succeeded became stillness incarnate.

He was fast. Impossibly fast. But never reckless. His motion was breath. His strikes, like punctuation — sharp, precise, and only when needed. He was a storm taught to walk.

---

The People’s Teacher, The Outlands’ Peace:

To the forgotten and the lawless, The Master was not a myth — he was memory. His path left no monuments, but it left balance. Raiders put down arms. Exiles found clarity. Former killers became protectors.

“You haven’t lost until you’ve given up,” he told a grieving child once. “Until then, you’re still in the fight.”

“A man kind to everyone forgets to be kind to himself.”

“Not everyone who strikes you is your enemy. And not everyone who helps you is your friend.”

The outlands became his canvas. And through him, chaos learned the shape of peace.

---

Attlus and the Spark of Change:

Attlus the Conqueror never met the Master — but in Leandorr, he studied stories of him like scripture. He read how bandits were humbled without violence. How wounded soldiers walked again not through medicine, but by unlearning fear.

One quote stayed with him more than any other:

“The gods do not test you to break you. They tear you down so they can build you into something greater.”

It was this truth — passed from the mouth of a wanderer to a would-be king — that made Attlus abandon the army and become something else: a shield, not a sword.

---

Fall or Death:

In his final season, The Master journeyed to the summit of the Evergray Mountains, beyond the breath of trees and the memory of roads. There, beneath a dying tree, he entered a trance — his spirit reaching depths few could follow.

Villagers found him days later, seated in meditation, body unmoving. They waited. Days passed. Then weeks. He did not stir.

Out of reverence, they buried him among the stones, believing he had passed.
But he hadn’t.

He was still within. Still breathing — slow and deliberate.
But buried beneath silence, even breath fades.

It was not battle that killed him.
It was being mistaken for dead while pursuing perfect stillness.

---

Resonance with Alyarik’s Cause:

When Alyarik called his Twelve, he summoned many with fire, with fury, with grief. But the Master was not summoned — he was heard.

In the deep quiet of the Evergray stone, Alyarik found a breath still echoing. A presence, coiled in discipline, ready to awaken. Not angry. Not afraid. Just waiting for a reason.

Alyarik gave it to him — not as a master, but as an equal.
Because even a lich knows: without balance, power consumes itself.

In an army built on vengeance, The Master became the fulcrum.

---

Current Role as a Vessel:

Vessel of Discipline and Stillness.

He walks again, not as a ghost, but as a reminder. A mirror to those who have forgotten themselves. He is not the loudest of Alyarik’s Vessels — but when he speaks, even death listens.

His hand remains open.
His prayer beads still glow — each one a lesson etched into eternity.

He is not Alyarik’s servant. He is Alyarik’s trusted counsel.

31/05/2025

The 12 Vessels of Alyarik:

Vessel name: THE WITCH

Sigil: A crown of roses and feathers above crossed wands — nature shaped by intention, not impulse.

Race/Class: High-Elf | Druid of Xylona’s Flock

---

Background:
In the sun-dappled courts of Xylona’s Flock, she was once called Thalessë, the Verdant Architect — high-elf druid, council member, and keeper of the Grove of Lord Aydon. She was the mind behind what many thought was natural beauty: the hum of bees, the fall of petals, the precise timing of pollination and bloom. But none of it was chance. Under her guidance, nature was not random. It was engineered.

She envisioned the future of the Flock as a garden — structured, harmonious, intentional. She orchestrated the migration of birds, the flowering of trees, even the layout of fungal growth beneath the soil. What others called “balance,” she saw as a system requiring stewardship, pruning, and perfection.

---

Strength in Life:
Her strength was her vision: exacting, beautiful, and vast. Her command over flora and fauna could turn entire groves into sanctuaries — or labyrinths. She crafted ecosystems the way a bard composes symphonies. Bees moved at her whisper. Roots curled to her will. The line between nurture and control blurred under her mastery. She did not merely speak for nature — she rewrote it.

---

Fall or Death:
But the beauty she designed became its own tyranny. Her orchestration grew rigid. What once bloomed freely now followed laws. Flowers bloomed out of season. Trees that defied her arrangement were quietly withered.

The Council of Elders, fearing that her designs disrupted nature’s wild breath, stripped her of her post. She pleaded. She reasoned. But the decision was final.

With no garden to tend and no design to complete, Thalessë faded quietly into the soil, her will to live dissipating like morning mist. Her body was found lifeless. Some say her spirit drifted into the woodlands, forever its steward.

But others speak of whispers in the groves. Of insects acting strangely. Of vines twisting into shapes resembling her sigil. Some believe she bound her essence into the ecosystem itself, leaving behind not vengeance — but a living curse, a truth hidden in pollen and roots. Its purpose remains unknown.

---

Resonance with Alyarik’s Cause:
Alyarik did not raise her for wrath — but for design. He found in her death a pattern, a hidden logic. He whispered through the bark and the soil, and Thalessë answered, not as a ghost, but as a living algorithm of nature. He offered her what the Flock could not: a system to shape without restraint.

---

Current Role as a Vessel:
Vessel of Nature’s Design and Entropy.
Now called The Witch, she manifests where beauty has soured and order has decayed. Her rose crown blooms in shadow. Her wands bend like branches but strike like serpents. She does not walk — she spreads. Insects serve as her eyes. Petals close when she enters. Trees bend as if remembering their gardener.

She no longer designs for balance. She designs for inevitability.

27/05/2025

The 12 Vessels of Alyarik,

Vessel name: The SCION

Sigil: A flaming crown entwined with draconic wings — symbol of forgotten blood and unyielding light.

Race/Class: Human (Draconic Bloodline) | Pyromancer of Leandorr

Background:
Born a stable boy in the heartlands of Leandorr, the boy who would become The Scion knew neither his parentage nor his purpose. His days were filled with straw and hoofbeats, tending to steeds bound for the Golden Army. Unbeknownst to him, the blood of dragons ran dormant in his veins—an ancestral tie lost to time.

On the eve of his coming of age, a goblin raiding party razed his village. His stable caught fire, and while others fled, he charged through the inferno to save his favorite horse. The flames licked his skin—but left no burn. That night, his destiny ignited.

Word of his strange resistance to fire spread quickly. The Archmage of Bassylia summoned him to the Tower, where he studied arcane flamecraft. There, he was told his power was a divine gift, a sign from the gods that he was meant to protect the helpless, just as he had once saved himself.

Strength in Life:
Known far and wide as the “Scion of Light,” he was a beacon among the Golden Army. Fireballs danced at his fingertips; walls of flame shielded villages. His deeds filled the songs of bards. He was not only a master of the arcane flame, but a figure of hope—one who saved caravans, liberated besieged towns, and brought warmth to the cold reaches of the realm.

Fall or Death:
But even light casts shadows. During a campaign in the Deadlands, The Scion perished silently in his tent—no wounds, no signs of struggle. Whispers point to Okeaetos, the assassin of the Congregation of Necronominus, as the blade behind the silence. His body vanished shortly after. Official records mourned him as a fallen hero—but the world never knew what became of his soul.

Resonance with Alyarik’s Cause:
Alyarik unearthed the truth of The Scion’s bloodline—and found in him not just a lost soul, but a legacy too powerful to leave buried. He offered the fallen pyromancer a new truth: that light and fire do not serve only the gods, but can defy death itself. Betrayed by the realm he once saved, The Scion accepted undeath not as damnation, but as vindication.

Current Role as a Vessel:
Vessel of Flame and Memory.
The Scion now burns with purpose unchained from doctrine. His eyes smolder with molten light, his voice carries the echo of old oaths broken and reforged. No longer the boy from Leandorr, he is fire incarnate—keeper of truth, punisher of betrayal, and a relentless reminder that sometimes, light must scorch to protect.

18/05/2025

Chapter IV: The 12 Vessels of Alyarik

The structure once known as the Sanctuary had become something far darker — the Obsidian Keep, where moonlight fears to tread and the stones pulse with ancient hunger. From within, Alyarik reigns — no longer the Protector, but the Undying Lich.

Even in undeath, he foresaw entropy. Even phylacteries, in time, grow brittle.

To stave off the erosion of eternity, Alyarik did what none before him dared.

(This Chapter continues in the pictures' captions.)

26/04/2025

Lucildur, Bearer of the First Light

In the beginning, when the gods wove the first threads of existence, they summoned Or'El, the First Light—the sacred flame that would awaken creation. From its brilliance, they shaped their greatest servant: Lucildur, the Bearer of the First Light.

Lucildur was radiant beyond mortal comprehension, formed to carry Or’El across the void, to ignite the stars, and to shepherd the dawn into all that was yet to be. The gods placed their trust in him, knowing that only he could wield Or'El without being consumed.

In time, Lucildur lit the first sun with Or’El, spreading its warmth across the newborn worlds. But in doing so, the fire bismirched his beauty—its searing light cracking his once-perfect form, tarnishing the brilliance that had once made him beloved among the gods.

Yet he did not ask to be restored.

Instead, he watched in silence as the gods turned their attention elsewhere. With divine hands, they shaped new beings—creatures of greater beauty, bathed in flawless radiance, unmarred by duty or sacrifice. The gods grew enamored of these creations, loving them more and more.

And as eternities passed, Lucildur was slowly forgotten.

His presence became expected, his devotion taken for granted. No praise, no recognition, only the quiet weight of duty. The gods no longer looked upon him with pride or affection. They did not see how his form had faded, how the fire that once made him splendid had left him scorched and worn.

Regret crept into his heart. Then envy.

He had given the cosmos its light, yet he had been cast into shadow.

At last, when the first mortal lives stirred in the young worlds, Lucildur came before the thrones of the divine. His voice, once pure and golden, now broke like thunder over cracked earth:

"I have carried Or’El through agony beyond measure. I have endured. Will you not grant me rest?"

But the gods, bound by the laws they had written, could not. The First Light was a force that, once set in motion, could not be reclaimed without unmaking all that was. They spoke of duty, of sacrifice, of necessity.

Their words were like knives.

Lucildur did what none had dared.

He took Or’El for himself.

No longer did he bear it as a servant; no longer would he suffer at the gods' command. He claimed the First Light, grasping its fire as his own, defying the order of creation itself. In his hands, Or’El pulsed—not as a beacon for the gods, but as a stolen flame, an act of possession that could never be undone.

The heavens trembled.

The gods, enraged yet bound by their own laws, scrambled to reclaim what he had taken. They reached for Or’El, desperate to seize it back, but they could not undo their own decrees. Lucildur had become the First Light’s keeper, turning the sacred flame into something that no longer belonged to the divine.

And so, in their wrath, they struck him down.

Lucildur fell from the heavens, cast into the depths of the underworld. There, Or’El erupted like wildfire, consuming everything in its path—but not him. The flame that had long tormented him was now his alone to bear.

And though he was resentful, he did not hate the beings the gods had created. He watched their fragile lives, their beauty, their brief existence. And he saw how they knew nothing of the fire that burned below their feet.

Lucildur chose to keep the flames of Or’El contained, trapping them within the underworld so that they would never rise to devour the realms above. He became its warden, its unwilling protector.

Or'El never dies.

Neither does his duty.

Thus, he remains bound for eternity—not by the gods, but by his own hand. A keeper of the First Light, forever watching the fire that cannot be extinguished.

Each soul that the gods reject eventually finds its way into the underwold, the light of Or'El serves as a beacon of hope amidst the darkness. The souls wail in eternity, begging the gods for salvation.

Lucildur endures, giving hope to the forsaken souls and shielding the world of the living from Or’El’s destruction. Some fear that, in time, he will tire of his burden—and when that day comes, the fire will rise.

22/04/2025

Get the Attlus look by following 15 simple steps, by Mr.Gould.

26/02/2025

Soldout!
Buy Sir Elijah, Win a Skeleton buildah!

18/05/2024

While waiting for my custom Acererak headsculpt, I wanted to showcase this made to order lich robes by Tots Action Figures Custom & Dio.

12/05/2024

I've been wanting a Thorin headsculpt since delving into Mythic Legions. In addition to being a kickass character in the Hobbit series, he was also the character I based on my first 5e Dungeons and Dragons character which is finally embodied in a mythic legion figure in the pictures below.

Shoutout to my guy Vitoonruch Leartpreamprakay for making this happen.

09/05/2024

Brother Cohen

Previously a preacher of an industrious village in the northern border of Leandorr, Cohen broke his vow of nonviolence after the village was raided by the Congregation of Necronominus. A large part of the population was taken alive, most of them were considered family to Cohen. They spend a good number of hours every sabbath day sharing the good word and good food. He knows it is just a matter of time before the captives will be 'turned' to members of the Congregation. Cohen must now bear arms in order to save his people.

14/04/2024

The children are slowly raising an undead army that will lay waste to the 4 kingdoms of light. But before this ultimate goal, the first mission of Malleus is to revive their Father, Necronominus. The first order is to choose an emissary at the Covenant of Shadow - a pact of the 4 ancient evils. Scaphoid has been favoured for this duty.

Legions by Mr. Gould