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Lion Rangers - there are some hot Kitties

So, this is more of a WIP Post. At first I thought making a Scar like Theme, but this didn't worked out, mostly because of the light underbelly. At the end I got a little inspiration of @kenshin620 Lionpictures in the Fanmade Lion Rangers Battletome Thread. The Idea could be that my lion ranger aelfs could be some sort of firealefs (or fyreaelfs if we take the wording of fyreslayers) living in aqshy having Blaze Lions. Actually I'm writing something about a Lionlike Godbeast, that isn't translated yet, don't know if it is even finished, yet.

EMMachine

EMMachine

The SwampBound Hunt

Hello All, I find myself feeling that sharing some might be a good idea, so here goes! Unfortunately, I don't think I'm quite lined up to share about that Great Unclean One who's images I shared in the blog description, so that will have to wait. Instead I have a finished diorama of mine, based around my SwampBound army (Swamp themed Khorne Bloodbound). After completing the blog entry I've popped back up here to give warning that a lot of what I've chosen to write about in this is what this piece makes me think about. Not many words on the crafting itself, much more focused on the thoughts. If there is interest I'd be happy to try to do some explaining with WIP pics in the future (on an unsure time-line, of course). But for now, what I've written here is what I was interested in writing. Feel free to skip the words and simply check out the pictures if you wish!   I intend to get some much better photos with a black backdrop in the future, but my desire to share this now leads me to post what I have at hand.
Here below are a couple of overview shots:     I actually received a Khorne Bloodbound Start Collecting box by accident, when my sister ordered me a Sylvaneth one for my birthday a couple of years ago. Before receiving it, I don't think I would have ever picked up any of the army, as it never really resonated with me. After working through the shipping issues, I was allowed to keep the improperly sent box along with receiving a now properly shipped Sylvaneth one, which was quite awesome. I decided that it felt pretty important to me to make the most of it, these boxes are expensive in my eyes and I really wanted to help myself find some meaningful experiences in the process. Because I wasn't particularly attached to the box, or initially invested in it, I decided that a great way to move forward was to let myself make some significant changes (significant to my abilities and experience, haha). So with this project, after some personal musings, I decided that I would do my first kit-bashes by purchasing some wolf mounts (as I really dislike the normal skull crusher mounts, on a personal level. Technically speaking they look very impressive to me.). I would also modify the khorne helmets and instead replace all of the sticking out bits with antlers. The antlers come from chopped up Wild Riders deer antlers (thus the hunted deer not having its standard crown of bone).  This process of antler-izing the helmets was done for all of the blood warriors as well as the skull crusher riders. Moving away from the SC box as a whole, and focusing more onto this display, I have found that a significant portion of my personal joy with this hobby is seeing miniatures within landscapes. In a shared space, I enjoy the gameplay with a friend, but some very deep internal joy comes from seeing dioramas. After completing a display for my first two Start Collecting boxes, the Khorne Swampbound came next. Previously I had designed displays that fit the whole army, similiar to Armies on Parade, but cut down to the size required for only the miniatures included in a SC box. This display, with its focus solely on the wolves and deer is major shift from presenting 'everything' to presenting a selection that tells a story. I'm a big fan of the duality of the worlds that are art meaning something to the viewer and art meaning something to the creator. I just love how I can look at something and it can have such depth of meaning to me in one aspect of my life and someone else can look and have it touch them in some other way. I certainly like the experience of shared appreciation, but I don't think that all of my joy is lost simply because someone experiences something in a different light than the way I presented it. I believe that in part this comes from me often not knowing what I'm trying to present while I create things. I like finding out as I go, mostly because I simply often don't know when I start. But please, reader, as I share with you the connections I make as I look at my work, try and pay attention to what may speak to you. Or at the very least, please don't let my interpretations squash out alternatives. The swampland, for me, brings up feelings towards physical life, often. My mind, imagination, emotions, and ideas can feel so fluid and quick at times, that moving these ideas into a more physical realm of creation and action, even communication, can feel like a very sluggish experience. Combined with a medical condition that I've needed to turn lots of my life's attention towards managing, which in itself leads to symptoms causing my body and mind to feel 'mired in mud', this swamp as physical life feels like a very apt connection within myself. There is life in this swamp, clearly. Plants I imagine are uniquely situated to grow in this sort of environment. Mosses, algae, and water plants. And there are ruins, buildings perhaps abandoned when the swamps overtook this area? The hunt happens within and through these ruins, as if the leftovers of these human creations are simply part of the landscape that exists here now. The riders of the wolves almost blur into the background for me, as I look at this piece. When I draw myself to them, I see protected humans who are emulating nature, with their green armor and antlered helms. They ride powerful wolves, and by doing this, they must recognize the power within the nature of these beasts. Interestingly, they do not have reins nor saddles. I wonder if the riders are simply at the will of the wolves, then. For them to need to go where the wolves take them. Perhaps they want this, much rather holding onto their chosen tokens; weapons, shields, standards, horns, than spend their attention and strength guiding their mounts to a destination of their choice. Hah, perhaps they don't even have a destination in mind, so the idea of reins hasn't come to their mind! I enjoy the idea of the riders finding pleasure in the skill required to stay on top of a mount that moves of its own mind. Or perhaps that wolves and riders are more connected than it seems, sharing some link that helps them intuit each other's desires and work together towards goals. I'm enthralled by the primal movements of the wolves. Enraptured by the fierceness of their facial states. I'm surprised by the graceful gait of the deer. Her determined and wary, yet unfazed-looking stare towards the future while these wolves surround her from behind and the sides. These two, the deer and the wolves, feel like the focus of this for me in my life right now. Sometimes the wolves feel like primal sides of me. Anger, Hunger, Ferocity. Operating off of instinct, moving towards food, using the skills that are practically part of the wolf to get them where they need to be and to try to take what they are after. I can see them working together, working as a pack to hunt. And yet in each of the wolves' faces I see personal desire for the kill. The prize that is within their reach. Their feet move upon the dry ground that they find, planning a course that limits the amount of time they must run through the muck (and also, fortunately, makes it so that I can choose to re-base them if I want! No solid resin stuck to their feet!) I see each of the wolves in different poses, states of action. The middle is mid-pounce, taking the chance for a quick take down. The fellow on the right seems almost thoughtful, planning where to be to meet the deer at a certain point in the future. And the one on the left is mid-run, clearly working towards keeping up with the prey, acknowledging that more distance needs to be made before any direct action on his part needs to be taken. The deer seems to frustrate me in ways that light my insides on fire. How can it possibly be so graceful, so... collected given its surroundings? How can it not be freaking out and darting every which way for the sake of a slight chance of escape? Does it truly have such self-confidence that it is not worried? I can see the determination, that it is clearly focused on a goal, but still... When I consider the deer being the spiritual sides of life, or perhaps the spiritual ideas of female energy, then my frustration seems to make a bit more sense. If I'm in a place to identify with the primal male wolves, then of course the opposite side of the spectrum, the graceful female deer would feel at odds with my understanding.  Sometimes I interact with the deer side of myself, in those times the wolves are less frustrating and more... 'givens'. Pieces of the whole. Knowns. I find that interesting. I like that the deer dances upon the ruins. Using the sureness of the cut stone, the work of previous developments, to make trusted steps. The hoof itself is in mud upon a cut stone, so it clearly isn't operating from a place of trying to stay pure or clean. It simply is what it is, moving as it will.   Stepping back from the description of what these images bring up for me, I have one last photo to show. This is of the base without the miniatures inserted. I do like to play AoS, and I do like to not feel trapped within one set of choices. So being able to remove and replace these miniatures was an important step of this process. It would have been A LOT easier to go through this without trying to create these slots for the resin to not fill in. Even completed, the bases require a bit of jimmying to get in and out. But I'm pretty dang proud of it overall!     Okay, so that is the end of blog entry 1. I'm not really sure what future ones might look like, or when I might next take the time to write one up. But I hope someone out there finds either the pictures, the words, or both interesting!   Oh, and here is a shot from behind, haha.   -ScarsnStuff
 

Slapping (paint on) the queen: Morathi WIP

Sooo spent practically my entire day today working on Morathi. Building her and then beginning to paint her! She's certainly shaping up nicely   looking forward to seeing her when she's done. I'm a bit unsure on the pink scales but well they'll do! Unless I can find a better colour to add my second drybrush coat with. Drybrushing them wasn't too bad and makes it a faster process!

Lightbox

Lightbox

 

Greenskinz and Necromancer

I managed to finish all the odds and ins details on the first 8 orrruks that I managed to salvage from my Bitz. One even has googles from a deff kopta pilot.   I also decided that the necromancer Arborius will be a deathlord much like the woman from Lord of the Undead novel.  He being tasked with the spread of blood cults for the Legion of Blood on Arranoc.   Secreted onto the island through the years from various realms Arborious has gathered vampire husks  and hide them all around Arranoc.  New death cults arise everyday as the influence of Shyish has taken its toll on this Season of Renewal.  Plagued of the walking dead spread quickly through cramped cities only to to swiftly put to the sword by thr various militant factions.   As a deathlord he would still be represented by a normal necromancer but I am going to theme the army to be around him and his Legion of Blood allies.  The dead do not stay long on Arranoc so legions of skeletons would have been reused by the ravenous Life Magic that permeates the island always sprouting new growth, hence zombies and the recently dead or spirits of the damned as well as either soulblight or ghouls to fill some of the roles the army is lacking like a hammer unit and more expendable troops like zombies that can tie units in place for a turn or two.

Gorthor21

Gorthor21

 

Lion Rangers. The beginning

So, the beginning of my Lion Rangers were mostly models I had in my old high elf army, rebasing some of them and buying a new box of Lion Rangers to get new Command Units, leaving some old models I started painting (so I didn't have to decolor them) and building an hero for them because GW didn't. The result was this: 1 Lion Noble (using the Dragon Noble Warscroll) 3x10 White Lions 3 White Lion Chariots 6 War Lions (don't having a Warscroll at all)     After that (mostly because at the moment the War Lions don't have an Warscroll or a real hero) I started to work on my Fanmade Lion Rangers Battletome: In the next stage I give my army some new Units like the Lion Lord on Emperor Lion (made out of a Manticore) and the Lion Riders Cavalry.   The next goal will be finding a interesting color theme for them that will fit into the fantastic world called "the mortal Realms".

EMMachine

EMMachine

 

GW Heat 1 Tournament Report

Army packed up, accessories too, all in my Battlefoam 720 with the amazing magnetic trays I fully expected it to be an “all the gear no idea” trip so I was pleasantly surprised when I finished 21st. In this article I will briefly cover all my games, the experience overall and my plans for the rest of the season.   Getting ready for round 1 with Tom (left)   First of all it’s been a very long time since I went to Warhammer World. I reckon it was a staff GT back in ‘99 maybe! The has come on in leaps and bounds. So much of it is still the same but it’s a much better tourist attraction overall. The gaming hall is much smaller than I remember but still a great place to play. I came with my JustPlay team mate Tom Fildes who was playing Ironjawz, and the short trip from Liverpool to Nottingham gave me just enough time to swat up on a few things with Tom that I needed to get in my head before I got started. I had only played 3 games before this with my Overlords and maybe less than a dozen games overall of AOS. We made a few notes in our journal the order of Hero phase, buffs I did not want to miss etc... I also like to get my self focused on the day. You can’t exactly play a warm up game of AOS but a short card or board game in the morning helps me focus. To see what I played and why, check out my previous article.   Game 1 - Total Conquest - Ric Myhill - Tzeentch   Allegiance: Tzeentch Gaunt Summoner (120) - General - Trait: Arcane Sacrifice - Artefact: Souldraught - Lore of Fate: Bolt of Tzeentch Fatemaster (140) - Artefact: Phantasmal Weapons Chaos Sorcerer Lord (160) - Runestaff - Mark of Chaos: Tzeentch - Lore of Fate: Glimpse the Future 9 x Kairic Acolytes (100) - 10x Cursed Blade & Arcanite Shield 10 x Kairic Acolytes (100) - 10x Cursed Blade & Arcanite Shield 10 x Kairic Acolytes (100) - 10x Cursed Blade & Arcanite Shield 9 x Chaos Warriors (180) - Hand Weapon & Shield - Mark of Chaos: Tzeentch 5 x Chaos Marauder Horsemen (90) - Javelin & Shield - Mark of Chaos: Tzeentch 5 x Chaos Marauder Horsemen (90) - Javelin & Shield - Mark of Chaos: Tzeentch 9 x Chaos Knights (320) - Ensorcelled Weapons - Mark of Chaos: Tzeentch   Reinforcement Points (500) Battalion - Fatesworn (100)   Total: 2000 / 2000   Early on I could see that Rik knew his stuff good knowledge of my army clearly worried about my ranged threats and reach he protected his characters well. Put me in a tight spot! With zero knowledge of Tzeentch I played really safe and put the Ironclad up in the sky, a good move as I missed his summoning range so might well have lost it or got it bogged down. After Ric’s turn 1   Game ended with a minor win to me at the end of turn 3. I was far too slow having to refer to my rules which gave him a chance to steal a win though clever play.   Game 2 - Scorched Earth - Declan Walters - Mixed Destruction   Allegiance: Destruction Grot Big Boss On Gigantic Spider (100) Grot Big Boss On Gigantic Spider (100) Gitmob Grot Shaman (80) Gitmob Grot Shaman (80) 60 x Moonclan Grots (360) - Pokin Spears & Moon Shields 40 x Gitmob Grots (200) - bows 40 x Gitmob Grots (200) - bows 3 x Grot Fanatics (100) Aleguzzler Gargant (170) Aleguzzler Gargant (170) Grot Rock Lobber (100) Grot Rock Lobber (100) Grot Spear Chukka (120) Grot Spear Chukka (120)   Total: 2000 / 2000 (army from memory) Happy seeing this match up. An army I guess you could say was far from top tier, I just had to kill lots of grots and grab a win! Declan presented a weak right flank with a objective I could steal from him turn one and hold, so thats where I hit. It went well, I took it killing some goblins and spider bosses, holding that objective and my own back 3 by using some clever ship maneuvers and taking advantage of my MSU Sky Wardens. All going to plan so far!   But that was the end of the success... in the middle I put my Endriggers into the Night Goblin 60-block, bottle necking myself too much. The Fanatics stopped me getting enough attacks into the unit, and that along with the fact I forgot about the extra bravery for large units meant I never took the centre objective. From then on in his left flank took me apart as I underestimated his shooting and giants over the next few turns and he secured the Major win. Had a right laugh in this one, his army looked great and I got though all 6 turns!
Beginning of the end for me..   Game 3 - Knife to the Heart - - Khorne   Allegiance: Khorne   Leaders Aspiring Deathbringer (80) - General - Bloodaxe and Wrath Hammer - Trait: Berzerker Lord Bloodsecrator (120) Bloodthirster Of Insensate Rage (260) Bloodthirster Of Insensate Rage (260) - Artefact: A'rgath the King of Blades Bloodthirster Of Unfettered Fury (260) - Artefact: The Crimson Crown Wrath Of Khorne Bloodthirster (330)   Battleline 30 x Bloodletters (270) 10 x Chaos Marauders (60) - Axes 10 x Chaos Marauders (60) - Axes 10 x Chaos Marauders (60) - Axes 10 x Chaos Marauders (60) - Axes   Battalions Council of Blood (110)   Allies 5x Harpies (70)   Total: 1990 / 2000 Allies: 70 / 400   “Not more Overlords” was I think how this game started. When you have sunk that many points into flying monsters (Zilfin reroll all hit and wound rolls of 1 vs flyers) it cant get much worse really can it? Deployment in this one I kept my Sky Wardens in the Ironclad to drop down so I could keep them at range after I forced the Endringriggers over the top.   I opened up on the Bloodthirsters with all my guns found a gap for the Endrinriggers to get hold of another and tied up the Bloodletters with Airships. That said I took ALOT of casualties on the way (all part of the plan though, just as long as I had a airship to stick on each objective job done… ) But... 5 models needed to hold the objective, that burnt me bad in this one. Just more rookie mistakes! Bit of a shame, I could have easily taken a major in this one. Early on in turn 2 not much left!   Game 4 - Star Strike - David - Bretonnians   Allegiance: Order King on Hippogryph (400) Enchantress (160) 8 x Knights Of The Realm (220) 8 x Knights Of The Realm (220) 8 x Knights Errant (200) 10 x Grail Knights (360) 10 x Questing Knights (360) 10 x Skinks (60)   Total: 1980 / 2000   (army from memory)   “Not really a fair match up” is the story of this game, my top tier list vs one of the oldest armies around. A very very beautiful one though. Here is a bunch of pictures. The game ended really early when his Knights all charged my Endrinriggers and died. Major Victory to me!       Game 5 - Battle for the Pass - Death   Leaders Nagash Supreme Lord Of The Undead (800) Necromancer (110)   Battleline 10 x Skeleton Warriors (80) 10 x Skeleton Warriors (80) 10 x Skeleton Warriors (80)   Reinforcement Points (850)   Total: 2000 / 2000   I drew another great match up here but not the best mission to play it on. Battle for the Pass means he had the chance to hide Nagash from me but did not quite extract all the correct info from me when screening Nagash. He dropped his front line back just enough to allow a very small gap for me to fit 10 guns in a small area and get some good shots on him. He took this really well once I lined up my turn 1. I did not manage to kill Nagash however took him low on wounds and hurt his casting potential for turn 1. I also got his necromancer plus some skeletons.
End of battle round 1   He summoned 40 Zombies and 40 Skeletons plus a Banshee which all failed charges on me luckily enough. The turn roll then went my way thank the lord, and I got to kill Nagash! It took my entire army to kill him though, the last few pistols taking him down. Major Victory to me.
My fav picture from the weekend, reminds me of the World War Z helicopter attack Overall I was really happy 21st place and I won 4 of my games. I did not get the Majors I needed, but who knows what I would have been facing day 2 if I did! Qualifying for the finals was my main goal here as it was the only heat I had tickets for and I did that. 
  My thoughts on the list were overall positive and I really liked having the two ships. The frigate was quick, great at tagging units and spreading my force out across the battlefield. MSU wardens helped a lot in the missions for scoring super quick and gave me lots of options. Take all that with a pinch of salt cause at this point I have not even tried grapples yet which is my next goal in the upcoming events I have. Its a major lull in the tournament scene in Feb and March but I have 3 small one day events coming up though Feb and into April, two Justice Series events in my store and the SCGT warm up in Leeds ran by Paul. Hoping to use them to practice for the many two day events I have booked in later in the season. Read my next blog to find out how I got in these one dayers. Ritchie.
 

The Fallen and Greenskinz

The path of elevation within the Druid order is a long ordeal that many cannot accomplish the intricate enchantments and mastery of life magic that would grant them access to the Wellspring of Renewal.  Being near to the source within the Temple restores a beings soul and fills them with vitality hence the power the ancient treelords possess anywhere on the island though the almost never leave the confines of the great tree the temple was built within.  Those druids that cannon grow within the discipline of life magic often fall to dark magic in its many forms either corrupted by the dark gods or the death god Nagash.  It is the job of the Inquisition to seek the fallen druids out and put and end to their affront to Allarielle and her gift of life to Arranoc.   Arborious (hahaha) is a necromancer of prodigious skill who has spread the worship of Nagash death cults throughout Arranoc.  He fell from the order when he found a forbidden tome that spoke to him in his dreams promising him immense power greater than any other in the order if only he would read its pages.  For long nights he withstood its temptations until he finally gave in and furiously read its foul pages.   He became mad with the knowledge of necromancy he had learned and he gouged his own eyes outs in grief at the futility of his own existence.  He willingly gave himself to Nagash and was gifted with powerful necromantic abilities.  The dead rise at his command as he chants the passages that were burned within his memory by the foul tome leaning heavily upon a staff of Sylvaneth heartwood.   The Greenskin hordes of Gorbag One-Eye have raided the outer kingdoms of Arranoc for many long years since the shift to Ghur that saw the island supplanted unto a great plain of endless grasses.  From here the nomandic One-Eye clan raided the kingdom of Eindil on and reveled in the destrucition the had wrought when with sudden and fateful defiance the island shifted out of Ghur back into the skies above Shyish.  As restless spirits and the corpes of those they had slain rose and began to devour all within reach the Greenskins withdrew into the ironoak fortress at the heart of Eindil's capital of Tor Eindor   From here the cunning Gorbag raided the surrounding country side and towns on boar back hit and run attacks that slowly dweldled the deadwalkers numbers and with the passage of Arranoc back into Ghyran the Greenskins found the dead a threat no longer and Gorbag One-Eye fortified Tor Eindor into the Black Fortress and crowned himself the One-Eye King.  Raiding the neighboring kingdoms has become Gorbag favored pastime as his hordes have grown more numbers as the seasons pass.  Even the Greenskinz seem to benefit from the Wellspring's blessings as their numbers have only grown as they have found good fighting upon Arranoc. Here are some pictures of the necromancer Arborious who I plan to use as the center of a Deadwalker element to my death army.  As well I finished the coven throne to a level I am happy with and started on the orruks that I had in my bits box.  The story really helps with the painting so I think I am going to try and keep up with the stories.  Next I think I am going to write about Boledrian's next mission and maybe have a scene in the temple.  
 

Archaon does a submarine at Heat 2

It was with great excitement that 7 Legionaries stormed the battlements of Warhammer World. Ben Raven (Quad Flappies) and James Grant (Kroaknado) had brought the infamous Battle Wagon to stay in.... Rob brought Dronestrike and a pounding hangover from a football game/beerfest the day before. Hugh had Griffon Spam Freeguild. Max had his well painted Nurgle and jumped on the Livestream game one. Tom brought some Mixed Order filth. That leaves Archaon:   The List - Archaon Fatesworn After a year of experimentation with Mortal Tzeentch and much contemptuous laughter towards my use of Chariots from Rob, I had integrated Archaon into Fatesworn.  The basic idea was that Archaon with Infusion Arcanum was pretty choppy (and autokilled big heroes) and also very tanky with Mystic Shield, Shield of Fate and Eye of Ed Sheeran. I filled the 10 Units in the Battalion with chaff - who also benefit significantly from the rend provided by the Battalion - Maras and Chaos Spawn. Any Daemons Summoner with Command Abilities would also have success to their command abilities - Double Pile in on Archaon or +1 to cast and unbind.   An early prototype tanked at Heat One (terrible dice throughout), but the list benefitted from some tweaks particularly the addition of a second Gaunt Summoner for redundancy/more magic. In this form, the list carried me to a first place trophy (and a first ever trophy) at Winter Waagh after a hard fought game vs John’s Khorne (also using a Gaunt).   Final tweaks were made by adding a fourth Chaos Spawn to bulk the summoning pool up to 580 (enough to summon the Chicken and the Keeper!). With some reluctance I dropped the Chaos Sorc Lord - even though his rerolls Spell makes Archaon vaguely reliable rather than derptastic, his 160 cost is brutal.   Archaon (Infusion) Gaunt (Shield of Fate, Wellspring) Gaunt (Glimpse, Soul Draught)   3 x 10 Maras 4 X 1 Spawn   580 reinforcements pool   Wellspring is particularly useful for guaranteeing spells and saving on DD. Typically I would use (say) a 3 DD to cast Mystic Shield - adding one from the Gaunt’s Blot and then rolling the other casting dice and rerolling a 1. If it was a 1 I would usually burn a 2 or another 3. The 9” bubble usually catches Archaon and the other Gaunt.   The default summoning option would be the Balewind, Chicken, backed by 10 Pinks splitting into 10 Blues for 570.   Game 1: Chris’s Ironjawz - Starstrike Chris had opted to max out his allies choices with 4 Rock Lobbas (which I’d also considered in the past). These posed a major threat to the Gaunt Summoners, which forced me to go first with some reluctance - as against a more melee oriented list I could have played for the double.   I deployed Archaon slightly off to the left. Chris’s army was heavy on Ardboyz and Pigs and lacked a cabbage. He cleverly deployed away from Archaon.     Battleround 1 Fixating on the bonanza available from sniping off low bravery crew, I made a painful error by miscalculating my summons in turn one. Having brought on the LoC, Herald and Pinks - I lacked the points for the Balewind. This cost me the chance to deplete the Ardboyz before they engaged and to lob in a cheeky Battalion Arcane Bolt.   Things got rapidly worse as the LoC failed the Gateway casting roll, which would have threatened the Megaboss. My spells killed one crew outright, but only chipped off the odd crewmen from the others.    Archaon went left - my thinking being that he could mop up the low damage Pigs and secure the entire left flank before turning inwards.   I advanced a line of Maras, who shielded the punchier Spawns.   Shooting failed to kill any more crewmen. I had just enough DD to charge the LoC (fortified with Mystic Shield and Shield of Fate) into the Megaboss. He bounced pitifully - doing 2 wounds. In response, the Megaboss derped his own attacks. All the Battleshock tests were passed and I was in a grim mood already.   Chris responded by throwing his Ardboyz forward, advancing the Pigs on my left.   Shooting chipped wounds off one of the Gaunts.   The Chicken clung on.      The Ardboyz split their attacks too thinly so the Pinks survived. The Chicken survived the Megaboss’s attacks and was able to hit back - dropping him to 2 wounds. The Pigs cleared up elsewhere, the Maras melted wholesale. Battleshock returned some Pinks.   The comet landed by the left Pigs. Chris won the initiative, which cost me a round of spells with the Chicken. Things went bad to worse. The Ardboyz were delayed by the Pinks, but the Pigs rammed into my centre clearing out the Marauders and a Gaunt Summoner.   Chris scored 2 points.   My remaining Gaunt Summoner blasted the Ardboyz. Meanwhile Archaon managed to get in combat with both units of Pigs and wiped them both out including Battleshock, which was enough to score back 2 points.    The other comets dropped - my one central and Chris’s one in the far right. Chris won the initiative again. This cut off my last chance as Chris mopped up my remnants. A Major loss to start against Ironjawz. Truly grim!     With hindsight I should probably have just lobbed in Archaon with the double pile in and outfought/tanked the Ironjawz in the centre. Chris lacked rend other than the Catapults. The failure to allow points for the Balewind had been costly and I wouldn’t allow that to happen again.   My club mates had had mixed fortunes. Max had been robbed by the constellations on the livestream - the stars landing on the Toads of the talented painter Adam Elford. Rob had also lost - not helped by his booming hangover. Hugh didn’t start well either. Ben, Tom and James had fared better.        

Nico

Nico

 

Magic Lores - Elemental Magic

Hi all, Something I felt was really lacking in the Generals Handbook allegiances is a lack of spell lores or prayer lores. I think this is a really important part of making spellcasters interesting in the current state of Age of Sigmar. Some casters just don't have interesting spells on their profiles, or ones that are so niche that they basically only count as having Mystic Shield and Arcane Bolt. I think that's an issue, because for some factions (Such as the Darkling Covens), casting is a core part of their identity. Yet in the entire Darkling Covens range, they only have 2 spells because they only have 2 unique casters. To make matters worse, those are your only Heroes in the Darkling Covens itself and even amongst their allies. I guess what I'm trying to illustrate is, the Darkling Covens allegiance would be much more interesting if they had a spell lore as well, making it more enjoyable to create your own coven of Sorceress' when building an army of that allegiance.   Darkling Covens are certainly on their way, but today I delve into their Highborn cousins, the Eldritch Council. The Eldritch Council did not get any allegiance abilities under the Generals Handbook 2017, but I decided not to restrict my scope of work to just those with allegiances. They are an interesting faction, because just like the Covens, all their heroes are spellcasters and it's a core part of the factions identity in the Age of Sigmar.  When designing this spell lore, I went back to the root of High Elf magic - the Lore of High Magic. In this lore historically, because the High Elves are the more noble and defensive of the Elves it has been a more defensive and utility based lore. Sure there have been iconic spells like Flames of the Phoenix, now part of the Dragon Mage warscroll, but iconic spells like Walk Between Worlds and Drain Magic were defense and utlity orientated. So that's what I mainly stuck to when building this spell lore, there are a lot of defensive and utility orientated spells in the lore, and not much on the aggressive side. In fact, the only aggressive spell in the list I took from an old Warmaster spell, Storm of Stone.   Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the Lore of Elemental magic, and if you use it in your games, let me know how it feels!  Download Link: LoreOfElementalMagicV1.pdf
 

Coven Throne Progress and a little background for my short story

Arranoc, the last of the Shimmering Isles is a great metropolis of tree and stone spanning the entire surface of the original island.  The span of life goes ever upwards as the life magics at the Well of Renewal fuel the city’s growth.  Great buildings formed of twisting branches of interwoven trees grow and calcify by the hands of skilled life mages. to become the foundations for a new generation to build upon.  At the heart of the city is the Temple of Renewal from where the Well flows out into the surface forming five mighty rivers that flow to the edge of the island to fall off into the lands below.  The life giving power of the Well is the base upon which the ruling council of Druid Kings controls the workings of the city and the dealings of its inhabitants.  Obedient only to the Everqueen, they keep a watchful eye of the servants of other gods that have come to occupy the Outer Kingdoms of Arranoc.  The Radient Queen founded the city in a marvel of life magic during the Age of Myth. Casting soulpods throughout the forests around the wellspring to nurture their growths.  From these soulpods grew the foundations upon which a torrent of life magic flowed and formed new shapes at Allarielle’s command. New structures would be formed to then be worked and finished by the work of her forest folk.  Well after the Everqueen left this place the sylvaneth worked tirelessly in the great effort left to them to use the life magic of the Well of Renewal to expand the city at an ever growing rate throughout the ages. As new sediments were added the source of the Wellspring grew further from the surface until many miles stretch between the source and the towering tree that forms the Temple of Renewal. It was then that the forces of Nurgle began to overwhelm the shoal of surrounding sky-islands and the ultimate choice was made.  Convening in the central temple, the ancients and wizen branchwraiths gathered and leant all their songs to a spell to save their home.  Opening a vortex of pure aetheric power from between the Realms the created a point at the bottom of the island the focused into a portal between the realms.  With random whim the powers fling the Island between the Realms.  For centuries it might dwell in Chamon and gain denizens like the duradin who now dwell in its lower reaches. In sudden shifts the island will travel between many Realms before settling on a particular place to rest for variable amounts of time.  This is how the sylvaneth who survived thrived during the Age of Chaos booming in numbers and new soulpod groves grew all over the island.  The realms through which the Arranoc travels always leave a mark on the Well of Renewel and when the new annual Season of Renewal begins the island changes according to the magics affecting it.  Only once during the end of the Age of Chaos did the island travel to the Realm of Azyr.  Here it stayed for many years, its inhabitants moving to and from the island to colonize the Shimmering Forests with new soulpod groves.  In exchange men, aelves and duardin were allowed to move into the outer city that had been wrought by the hands of the forest folk of the aeons.  As is the way of mortals these peoples began to make their mark on the Island forever changing it in their own ways.  The Aelves found conflict with the sylvaneth forest folk who would on whimsy forget the alliances and slaughter who villages of innocents.  They decided to approach the duardin and their high sorceress forged an agreement for cohabitation within the catacombs and dark halls the filled the underside of the island.  The Azyrite duardin found ancient clans dwelling deep below the island. These duardin had founded a temple to Grungni from where grew an engineering school that would come to control the industry of war that protects the island’s walls with firepower drawn from their forges.  The men who came to the island soon began to grow orchards of fruits and bounties unheard of in the realm of the heavens.   Their populace booming the humans began to encroach on the inner island where the syvaneth came to a standoff to prevent the desecreation of a soulpod grove.  It was here that Dramareth, Son of Durthu, brought the humans to an ultimatum.  Either they heed his wisdom of face his wrath.  The gathering sylvaneth soon outnumbering the Azyrites exponentially.  The message clearly displayed for the Azyrite guests a council was formed between the Ancient Treelords and Branchwraiths of the sylvaneth and the Druid Kings who ruled the outer kingdoms.  At the central temple of of Allarielle built atop the Wellspring of Renewal the council gathers and deliberates on the laws and settles cases between the races such as claims on land.  Often times the sylvaneth will win the deliberations as Dramareth looms over the gathering making his presence known. When the age of chaos ended and the new cities sprang up all around the realms, the island began to shimmer, and it left Azyr behind and began the violent transition to a new realm.  When the denizens of from Azyr began to panic and disorder descended on the cities of the outer kingdoms, it was then that the cults of Tzeentch struck.  Having long infiltrated the city the magisters spread word of a corrupting god who would give power to the upstart mortal druids who sought to worship at the altar of the wellspring.  Soon clandestine cults spread all throughout the human cities and the fire of revolution were stoked leading to a full third of the druid order falling to chaos.  The remaining Druid King beseeched Dramareth to aid the human kingdoms in their hour of need and a grim concession was made.  The ancients gathered and decided a ‘great prunning’ was to be enacted.  Within the druid order a secet police was instructed to investigate every practioner of magic on the island.  From the Druid Kings to lesser garden thralls to the High Sorceress of the darklings.  All were suspect of chaos and hundreds were put to the sword their remains thrown over the islands side unable to return to the wellspring to take part in the cycles of life and death on the island.  A twisted branch of battlemage assisted by hungering spite-revenants hunts those accused of heresy and chaos magic.  A coven of aelf witches also roams the island in search of the taint of chaos.  They have put entire villages to the flame as well as corrupted soulpod groves.  The fires of Tzeentch left the scar of the Inquisition upon the island.  Great stretches remain barren as a testament to the power of the wyrdfyre cults that sought to cause total anarchy in the forest-cities of the outer kingdoms.  The power of the wellspring is pushed to its limits, so the regrowth process is slow in most of the afflicted areas.  Deep within many abandoned groves and in dark caverns twisted beastkin dwell waiting for the return of the Feathered Lord so that they can one day burn the forests down and replace it as an island of twisted nightmares constantly in change as to better please their insane god. Years of the shifting from realm to realm left its toll on the Azyrite kingdoms left on the island.  The Council rules with and iron fist on the surface policing the mortal populations for taints of chaos.  The underdark controlled by the both darkling houses or duardin clans, the upper reaches were given over to the darklings as the duardin favored being near the magic marvel that is the the realmgate near the bottom of the island.  This clear division is upheld by a mutual understanding that to stand together is better than to fall divided.  Little love exists between the two races but when the Marshal calls for muster the darkling phalanxes and duardin artillery trains show in great strength.  Stormcasts from the Hallowed Knights have dedicated a detachment of warriors to protect the wellspring as a token to the Everqueen and a show of solidarity between the Sigmarites and the followers of Alarielle.  They stand guard within the temple something the Inquisition views with suspicion claiming the influence would sway the faithful from Alarielle’s worship.     Here are some updated pictures of my progress on my death army.  any comments or suggestion towards my writing or painting is greatly appreciated.  My next post will have more discussion about what the overall guiding principles of my project.  
 

Progress on my Death army

After the recent move we now have an area dedicated to our nerdy pursuits.  My intent with this blog is to have a place where I can post updates on my armies and writing.  Mostly I have been focusing on my Death and Destruction factions, though the Orruks are still unprimed and waiting for more boys to make the effort worthwhile. So far I have the majority of my nighthaunts painted with a basic two tone drybrush that seems to be my go to for cloth-like texture, smoke, and wood.  I hope to update this blog regularly instead of posting in my painting blog so I can keep all of my hobby posts together in one place.  On the bottom shelf you can see my Delvers of the Deep changecult and above that is the mixed order army I feel I have been posting way too much about.  All of these armies will eventually make their way into my fiction so I can feel that I have done something more with my hobby than just painting for the sake of painting.  Mind I am not much of a gamer in the sense that I don't play in tournaments and the last game I played was well before the first general's handbook came out.  Anyway here are the pictures.
 

Tales of Arranoc, the Last of the Shimmerfalls

Boledrian cast the runic seeds for a tenth time with the same result.  Always the specter reigned above the Lady.  Death over life.  No divining with runic seeds was ever the same, with slight variations in the scatter.  But this was different.  The seeds told the same story every casting.  "Death will reign", creaked a figure from the shadows of the dark night.  The voice belonged to the malicious spite-revenant that was his near constant companion.  Boldrian gathered the seeds and glanced about before rising, his worn robes tinkling with a profusion of amulets and talismans.  An Inquisitor needs his insurances.  The narrow path upon which he stood was framed by great twisting trunks and branches of trees grown to form the structure of the storefronts and tenements that occupied this district of the city.  Mostly refugees from the lands below; Azyrites mostly but many from Ghur where the Great Island had come to rest recently.  Boledrian knew that with refugees came despair, and with despair came the breeding ground for the changling cults to recruit.  The castings kept pointing him to this district with its eternal twilight under its twisted canopy.  Boledrian knew of the struggles that afflicted this district.  A rise in a new plague outbreak that took one in five with a horrible death at the end.  Swiftly the druids had reacted to the outbreak; loosening the Sisters and their malevolent spite allies, much like his spirit-path walking companion.   After the pogroms that followed the denizens of these slums knew better to be near at Boledrian's approach.  He cast his shadow long down the road, sending a feeling to hear the spirit-song of the deranged tree-kin that acted in a way as liaison in this hunt for the tree-folk, though so far it had been of little help in acquiring information aside from occasionally terrifying their prey until Boledrian would end their miseries with a crossbow bolt of pure silver-elm.   The creature remained distant to his callings, never giving voice to its intentions.  He did not know if it was agent for the Sylvaneth or simply a mad spirit following him for its own inscrutable means.  As he made his way along the cobble-roots of the street a chill wind began to pick up.  Slowly and silently the wind picked up into a low-moaning wail.  The leaves and hanging talismans rattled and made apparent to Boledrian that something was askew.  Hefting his rough worn crossbow with the action locked he made a slow advance down the road. Though not a skilled practitioner in magic, he had developed a particular witch-sight that allowed him to track instances of magic to their source.  In this particular instance, with this particular wind his witch-sight left a sickening feeling in his gut.  Unfortunately, the spirit-paths his Sylvaneth companion traversed were invisible to his sight.  He knew not if the vicious spite played tricks on him to unease his resolve or if it was something else altogether different. Upon his waist the icon of Usirian began to glow a brilliant amethyst light as it confirmed what Boledrian had suspected.  As he made the next step the gale picked up in such intensity that he was forced backwards off his feet and onto his back, his breath knocked out of him.  The wail reached such a deafening volume that Boledrian's ears rang until the point of his eardrums bursting.  Flailing breathless and deaf to the world, the druid-seeker was unaware of the mists the swiftly filled the roadway and brought with them a chill that reached the bone.  Boledrian grasp at his side, feeling a broken rib as he made it to his feet and became aware of his surroundings.  He tried yelling but found his voice mute.  He screamed and screamed but was unable to hear anything.  Clawing at his deafened ears he caught sight of movements in the mists. Not in the mists, but the mists themselves.  Raising his head to look upwards he saw twenty feet in the air a wailing spirit of a woman.  A banshee.  A foul servant of the Great Necromancer had manifest and brought with it a host of tormented spirits.  Ghastly hands reached for him, their screaming voices falling on deaf ears as Boledrian tried to flee but found himself trapped.  With but one option left he grasp at the assortment of trinkets and icons he had about his person until he found upon a small seed that glimmered with an iridescent shell.  Quickly he tossed the seed while muttering an incantation of growth.  With a sudden and violent rapidity thorned brambles burst from the ground and seized on the wailing spirits one by one in a way that no corporeal thing should.  Almost as suddenly as the vines had burst and grasped the host of spirits were the vines withered and died taking the spirits with them.  It was in this moment that Boledrian dove through the momentary opening and managed to land with a trained aim behind him.  Without a moment to fire the host of spirits was descending towards him again he cringed back and gave into his primordial fear of death.  As he sank to his knees in the face of a physical manifestation of his fate a tittering song began to play in his head.  Though deaf he heard a mocking laughter hidden in the song.  Out of the walls of branch and bole and canopy above came forms that gave voice to the song in his head.  Creatures as much a part of the forest as it was part of them, that had given into the primal urge to kill and slaughter without need or want but simply the necessity of it.  He found the creature that had secreted him since his assignment to this case and gazed with his witch-sight into its intention.   Nodding he removed a series of vials from a bandolier about his chest which he threw into distance. As they shattered a red alchemical smoke rose into the air.  Soon the Sisters would arrive, and they could curb the spites more malicious tendencies from getting to the innocents.  The creatures descended from the canopy above and grasped futilely at spirits, occasionally raking and unfortunate soul when it manifests into solidity.  Out of the walls of the very buildings they charged at the spirit hosts, clawing like crazed maniacs at the air in hopes of rending through a spirit as they made to attack.  The banshee had begun to keen another song that was soon to reach its deafening crescendo as a javelin burning with green witch-fire struck her in the heart.  As the banshee gave its death wail and began to discorporate so too did the other tormented spirits that she had brought with her into this realm.  The green witch-fire spread to the rest of the host and soon nothing remained that would have given evidence to what had happened.  Disbelieving at his own survival, Boledrian stared where the spirit host had almost taken his immortal soul when the Sisters of the Thorn approached him.  It was their sisterhood that acted as executioner when the Inquisition has need of a heavy hand.  The sisters were all aelf maidens who had made covenant with an ancient being of the island or, so the legends said.  From their glowing fey-stag mounts the Sisters watched Boledrian for what seemed like punishingly long moments before the lead Sister raised her staff and a warm sensation began to overcome his ears.  After it abated he began to slowly hear sounds again. "Stand and be recognized," commanded the lead aelf with a voice that pierced his weak hearing. "I am Boledrian Winterleaf of the High Council's Inquisition," he said with a weak flourish that displayed his badge of honor on his chest. "Very well," the aelf witch said as she lead her mount to leave. "We must find the coven of death witches at the heart of this Sister, you cannot just let these kinds of occurrences keep happening.  I have cast my runic stones twelve times this night and each casting is precisely the same, telling that Death will reign over Our Lady." At this the witch turned back at glared deeply into his eyes.  The pupiless gaze bore deep into his mind and soul searching for the truth.  Having found her answer she raised her staff and the other riders halted.  With curt hand gestures she sent several of her sisters off in different directions and returned her gaze to him. "We will aid you Druid but know this: our magic comes at a cost and we demand a greater title of children this year to compensate. Do you agree?" "Of course, I agree, she-aelf.  As by the oath sworn by our two orders.  Now tell me what the root of all this death magic in these wastrel streets is?" "A blood-leech has left its taint on this death magic; do you not see it with your witch-sight?" "No, I have been a little uneased by my experiences of late," he retorted back. "There is a trail, if one is keen enough to follow," she baited him. Stifling his hurt pride for the miraculous return of his hearing he decided not to return insult.  These aelfs were stranger than normal aelves and that was saying much.  He knew they would muster forces wherever their whimsy might have sent for aid.  But as with all their deal it came at a price.  A price in innocence that would be high this year indeed.  Those children taken are never seen again and no one ever sees them go.  Simply vanish.  His spine chilled to think of his childhood and the myths that gave him nightmares as a child.  "Let us begin then, lead the way sister."   The leader and two of her sisters lead Boledrian and a few of the lingering spite-revenants who seemed to be now literally shadowing all his moves.  Of the five none where the one who hid from his perceptions.  These were its drones, those so lost in the pursuit of prey that they were little more than shells of sylvaneth filled with the wrath of a wild beast barely held by the leash.  Boledrian would say that fear was part of his world and that he made a living of it, but that would be a lie.  His career as an Inquisitor had been one of desk work and very rarely was he called upon for a raid.  This was different, and his warrant was for a very real man, no ghost or ghast.  As the aelves lead the way to the presumed vampire's lair, a troupe of sisters arrived and rode to speak with the leader.  After a curt exchange the riders split and rode down two adjoining streets.  This had been the fourth such exchange in the past ten minutes and their pace had slowed considerably.  The road had opened onto a plaza with a bubbling spring in its center.  The water gave a slight luminous glow as it came out of the roughhewn pillar at the center of the shallow pool.  The cobble-roots were worn around the circular area from a telling history of foot-traffic over the ages.  Of the other two roads that met in this square, the Sisters were present cordoning off those avenues.  The lead Sister turned over her shoulder and gestured for Boledrian to approach.  As he drew close he felt the hairs on his neck rise at the otherworldliness of these aelves, her eyes boring into his soul, seeking the truth as she had before.  She was testing his resolve to ensure that he would not be a hinderance in the face of such things as the dead or the changlings.  Though these beings were terrifying he knew the Sisters and even the spites were his staunch allies in this hunt.  “This is the residence deeded to Rand Sosenhal, the man whose name appears on your warrant.  Suspect of Death worship a crime punishable by death,” she said gesturing to the door they faced.  From within there were no signs of habitation, without the refuse set outside or lights in the windows.  As Boledrian cautiously approached the doorway he felt rather than heard the spite-revenants moving into position within the very walls of the building.  Ready to strike when they deemed fit.  Only if he could understand their spirit-song like he could other Sylvaneth then he would know what awaited him.  With growing trepidation, he reached the door with a pair of dismounted sisters at his back, their staffs held at the ready.   With the third tackle he had the door off its hinges and the trio made quickly into a darkened parlor furnished with antiques from across the realms.   He could make out the craftsmanship of at least three different Chamon artisans among them.  A wealth belied by the façade outside was obvious for all guests to see.  Though Boledrian doubted he would get a guests’ welcome once he met his host.  Rand Sosenhal had made a fortune on the tormentuous periods in which the Island moved to new realms in which he could profit from acquiring priceless artefacts and pieces of art that he would then sell for a profit among collectors.  The perfect position for a heretical cult to grow out of.  Most of Boledrian’s past season of renewal was spent investigating Sosenhal and were his expenses came from and where they went.  When he had set out earlier that evening he felt the strongest conviction he had felt in his life.  Now that he was in the home of his first prey he felt a great weight of dread overcome himself.  He was not sure if it was merely the presence of so many spite-revenants with their susurrating voices that always accompanied them or his trepidation at being at the end of the hunt.  He felt it in his bones, a deep hunter’s feeling that he knew his prey was close and he would make the kill.  He had but one choice, he could not freeze up in the face of Death again as he had in the street.  Cultists and daemons were one thing but the recent rise in Death cults had upset the strange form of balance that had formed in these tumultuous times as the Island shifted Realms so frequently.  A recent Blink into Shyish had upset the natural balance of the Well of Renewal, or so the Ancients had claimed as they dispatched this latest series of warrants against men and woman like Sosenhal who had unique places of power in courts of the druid-kings of the Outer Kingdoms.  Hundreds would soon meet a similar fate as his prey.  He felt it in his bones. The witch-sight showed the trail much more vividly in the halls and parlors of Sosenhal’s manse.  Death magic permeated the place, proof of Sosenhal’s heresy. The Sister had mentioned a vampire’s taint on the summoning magic and that never boded well for men like Boledrian with hot blood in his veins.  The trail led down a flight of cellar stairs that led to a sturdy ironoak door.  Clearly Sosenhal was hiding something he wanted protected.    Reaching into a pouch on the small of his back under his cloak, Boledrian removed a small metal flask he carefully unscrewed and dashed its contents on the door.  With another incantation of growth, the door began to bloom in all forms of colorful lichen that gave way to full fungal growths and mushrooms that deteriorated the door within a few moments.  He stepped back to allow the spores to settle before he moved through into an antechamber with racks of hanging robes on either side.  Many were missing giving evidence of what lay beyond the drapery that divided the antechamber from the main room. The two Sisters moved gracefully from the entrance with their staffs held at the ready, a murmuring incantation on their lips.  Boledrian followed with his crossbow held at the ready.  Given the shadows around its perimeters the room was of the same constitution as the rest of the structures in this district with calcified wooden growths forming the foundations for the home.  The center of the chamber was lit by a single brazier that blazed with an amethyst fire.   Arrayed around the brazier were circles of kneeling, purple robed figures each taking part in a soft, whispering mantra that sent chills through Boledrian’s spine.  At the head of the ritual was a man with a portly figure and the bearing of a noble-born Azyrite.  He bore a scepter crowned with a gibbering skull in one had who’s eye glowed with ghastly balefire.  In front of the cult leader was a large stone sarcophagus that bore strange sigils engraved into its sides.  The top bore the image of a resting man with his arms crossing his chest.  A pungent reek that reminded Boledrian of a decaying corpse filled the air with its overwhelming aroma.  As the lead figure noticed their entrance he shouted in alarm at his follower who ceased their chanting and began to rise to face the interlopers in their ritual. The cultist drew a motley assortment of weapons from beneath their robes as they stalked to form a semi-circle around the trio.  Casting his glance at the two Sisters who had accompanied him he knew they would be able to hold their own.  Each began to sing out incantations of powerful life magic.  Taking his opportunity Boledrian saw his chance.  With the Sisters preparing their spells, he brought his worn crossbow to his shoulder and took aim at the cult magister.  He took a deep breath like he had so many times in his practice.  His mind cleared of outside influences and it became just him, the silver-elm bolt and his prey at its most vulnerable.  As the bolt flew towards its target, it burst through the magic veils that protected him from harm.  The silver-elm bore the purest of Azyr’s magic within its branches which found great power against the forces of Chaos and Death.  Much to the unsuspecting magister’s chagrin, the bolt passed through his defenses and burst into his chest.  As the wound opened blood began to pour onto the sarcophagus as he leaned over it as if to give his last bit of life forces to the evil thing that rested within.  As his attention returned to his surroundings he first noticed the shifting shadows that flittered just out of sight giving him confidence that they would soon be victorious.   The Sisters had summoned forth a brambling briar with thorns long as a man’s forearm that sought out the cultist like a hungering beast.  As the first vines grasp about their prey they began to constrict with bone breaking strength.  Like powerful constricting snakes they bound around the cultists cutting deep gouges in their flesh and ripping limbs from torsos with their titanic strength.  The cascades of gore drawn from the corpses of the slain momentarily rained down coated the room with sprays of life blood.  Out of the shadows and the very walls themselves came an insane spirit-song that was reminiscent of manic laughter.  Spite-revenants began to stalk from the gloomy perimeter of the room even as several dropped from the ceiling to land amidst the rearmost cultist.  Even in the face of such overwhelming odds the cultists seemed unfazed by the deaths of their comrades or even their leader.  In response to the insane song of the spites they began a low sonorous dirge that seemed to fill the room.  As Boledrian readied a second bolt of silver-elm, the spites launched their attack.  As their spirit-song reached new heights they tore into the rough line of cultists that had turned to face them.  The spite-revenants gave into their natural tendencies as they clawed and tore into their prey.  Such wild abandon was not new to Boledrian but still it unnerved him. He simply gazed at the unbridled slaughter before him.  The wall of brambles had cordoned the two dozen or so cultists into a knot that the revenants tore into with gory abandon.  Great fountains of gore followed every slash of claws, ropes of entrails and ripped organs being tossed aside like refuse.  As the spites made their way through the cultist Boledrian stared in wonder as they simply allowed the spites to rend and tear their bodies asunder.  Casting a glance at the floor he saw for the first time the sigils that had been carved into deep channels to allow the blood that had been spilt to pool around the sarcophagus.  A dry, rattling breath filled the chamber overpowering even the keening song of the spite revenants as they reveled in the gory remains of the cultists.  The Sisters drew up in front of Boledrian as the lid  of the sarcophagus slid to the floor with a heavy thud of finality. Amethyst fog rushed out of the sarcophagus as an ancient creature rose from within.  Piercing animalistic eyes singled Boledrian out in the chaos of the melee.  It was a withered creature, long cursed with the Soulblight though malnourished from eons of confinement.  The bloody carnage that had been wrought about the chamber had fueled a ritual that had awoken this creature from its slumber.  With a creak of bone and stiffened ligaments the vampire raised its arms and with a rasping voice intoned a fell incantation.  Wisps of the raw Death magic that emanated from the creature quickly speared out striking half a dozen of the nearest spite-revenants.  They fell to the floor in agonized screeches as their heartwood began to wither and their bark turned to dust. As Boledrian readied his loaded crossbow to fire at the fiend it launched itself with load creaks and pops of joints thrown into violent action.  The spite-revenants responded in kind launching a viscous assault on the vampire.  The questing vines of the Sisters’ magic wrapped about it only to wither and die from the potent curses enscrolled across it’s taut and leathern skin.  With both the Sisters locked into maintaining their enchantments he had to act fast.  Aiming for the Soulblight’s black heart he fired the silver-elm bolt as true as any shot he had fired from the weapon.  With a flash the pure celestial magic imbued in the silver-elm dissipated across the blood-leech’s wards.  As the light cleared from his eyes he saw the first revenant lunge at the creature only to be swatted to the ground in a broken heap.  Three more leapt upon it vengefully clawing at its head, arms, and back.  The creature cried out as one revenant’s claws found purchase and tore a great gouge in its robes and back. Issuing a bestial roar, the vampire wrenched the spite-revenant from behind him, smashing aside several more to make itself more room.  The spite’s struggles were ended swiftly as the vampire tore its head from its shoulders in a fountain of amber sap.  Throwing the ruined corpse into the onrushing spite-revenants, the creature vaulted an unnatural height into the air over the Sylvaneth landing lightly near Boledrian and the pair of Sisters.  Forgoing the wall of choking brambles, the sisters summoned forth a coruscating ball of lightning that smashed into the vampire and sent it sprawling backwards into the waiting revenants.  The treekin piled atop the creature as their spirit song reached new heights of madness and fury.  Boledrian readied his next shot as the Sisters moved to his side already summoning forth a new enchantment of crawling briars that sought to pin the vampire down.  As the vampire gouged and clawed at the revenants the thorns struggled against the creature’s wards.  Drawing in his breath he aimed for the creature’s eye and fired.  Crushing the heads of two spite-revenants together, the ancient fiend caught the silver-elm bolt in its head.  The weight of the thrashing revenants and twisting vines held vampire pinned as the pure celestial magic within the wood burned within its skull.  A wave of power rushed from the creature as it emitted a horrifying scream in its death throes.  Rummaging through his various pouches and talismans he produced a small pouch which he cast at the melee.  The vines continued to struggle against its wards as a flash of brilliant light blinded everyone who was not prepared for it.  Frantically blinking to clear the after images from his sight, Boledrian moved to aid the two Sisters as he noticed a familiar presence moving towards him.  It was the revenant who had shadowed him, bearing a pair of heads in his hands the cult leader Sosenhal and that of the ancient vampire still pierced by Boledrian’s bolt.  As the Sisters made to reign in the spite-revenants, Boledrian accepted the heads from the treekin, knowing that it meant great respect that it offered him the trophies.  A strange pride welled in his stomach as he turned Sosenhal’s head over considering all the carnage he had witnessed and the selfless destruction the cultists had given of themselves to bring the fiend back from the grave.  Such zealotry was on the rise in Arranoc since the last Season of Renewal had seen a flood of Death magic after the last shift out of Shyish.  Wyrdfyre Cults and the Harbingers of Decay were one thing the city could handle, but the necromantic powers that had seen graveyards empty and druids to go mad and turn to the dark arts.  The Inquisition needed all the help it could get.  
 

Game tomorrow: Is everything ready? Nope!

So I have the issue of I have done no work on my freeguild since Friday because motivation... (and also monster hunter with friends + assignments got in the way) so that's a pain... gonna make sure the remaining 10 guard I need are built up tonight. And will try and get stuff at least sprayed the basecoat.   I always struggle getting things painted, and I suppose the fact I've been basically dragged into doing a game with my least put together army with only a week to try and prepare anything for what is going to be a difficult game (My opponents all only really play khorne so can build really well whereas I have played freeguild like... for one path to glory campaign) Is a really big pain!   At least come Saturday I can drown my tears in pretty van saar and just start focusing on necromunda and 40k for a bit. Will probably try and play less games of AoS till I can get some painting done, I'm also getting really bored of fighting khorne armies right now (they always feel the same to play, they move forward and charge and ignore battleshock. Give me an opponent that can actually do more than just combat phase me to death and tank)   I'm just taking a cannon & a volley gun to upset them whilst one of my teammates will be taking a cannon and lord ordinator who can buff the ****** out of both of us. If I'm gonna be forced to keep playing khorne I'm going to introduce them to their least favourite phase... SHOOTING! And I'll rock tempests eye so I can hopefully get extra gun shots.

At least Gunther and his gun are built. Everything else I can fill in with other stuff easy peasy. The big guns are the important bits for upsetting khorne players   At least I'll get to see how well 20 guard tank a charge. Though no mystic shield wizard might be a pain... hopefully my phoenix temple ally can help me out there.     I'll see what I can push myself to do tonight. Though my order army has always been intended as a stuff to work on when I feel like it sort of army and not anything I want to rush to get table worthy. Will try to remember to do my battle report though. Unless I lose horribly, then all my notes shall somehow accidentally disappear  (just joking... probably)
 

Grundal-Thrynaz

The Glittering Host: There was a smell… A smell beyond sweetness - more ripe - that would’ve turned the stomach of a less seasoned soldier. As Dhurgan Dorginson marched his ranks of hammerers out to the ridge where the patches of sword-grass gave way to rocky slopes, he noticed slight vents of the pugnant steam rising from beyond the line of battle. Growing quiet he plodded on grimly, aware that this mission would likely require more than routine hammer-work. Others noticed their captains change in mood and tightened their grips on their double-handed warhammers. What they saw as they advanced over the edge made hair on their necks bristle. Frenzied grots were scrambling forward in waves, as many slashing with claws as wielding any sort of actual weapon. They screeched at an unnatural pitch and snapped needle-lined jaws at duardin and eachother alike. More alarming still was the strangely-colored steam that burst from the ground every few feet. Some insidious brand of sorcery was at work here. To his right Dhurgan heard a usually steady warrior stifling his gags and the captain didn't have to guess why. They had all been raised on tales of warpfire burning their kin alive. The silence of the dwarves as they set to their task spoke volumes as to their fears. …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   ….   ...   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   ….   ...   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   … As the enemy closed, it mattered not that the champion could not make out the details of their faces at the speed they were scrambling. The gnashing teeth and disheveled scraps of leather were a blur that only became harder to distinguish as it got closer. The way his clansmen had planted their feet, suddenly in a more perfect shield wall, white knuckles wrapped around axe handles… They were ready. Thane Brom Firebrow was sure his grandfather could see his excitement and pride in his charges, even at a distance and at his advanced age. With massive shoulders, a barrel chest and the legs of an ox, Brom was made to cut down the clan’s enemies. Brom took a deep breath, attempting to slow his pulse. Today he would display the leadership he had lacked thus far and which had stalled his invitation to join The Chosen.…  Thane Brom Firebrow of the Karakigrom, Champion amongst clansmen  …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   ….   ...   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   ….   ...   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   Norgrim Proudsong looked about at the glittering host as they went about clearing a path through the greenskins. The golden embellishments suggested a decorative or ceremonial purpose to the armor which belied its power to protect the King’s chosen right arm. The deep blue cracks would be considered flaws in ordinary craftsmanship, but in this case were revered as a sign of the materials origin, from the heart of the mountains of this world. The sun gleaming off of their polished white helmets and shoulder guards stood in sharp contrast to the disfigured wretches with their blotchy pale skins and scabbed, metallic growths. This was truly a case of the noble cleansing a blight from the world.   Lord Proudsong glanced behind him. Holding the line was a massive shieldwall. In some places clan heraldry was illuminated by the glowing runes that framed it. In others they glittered with ornate phoenixes wrought in mithril and gold. In most places though, copper effigies of the ancestors adorned a blue-painted field. In the heart of the line stood a wild, red-bearded warrior hacking in broad arcs through every grey-skinned foe that came near. Where most made amateur attempts at the defensive maneuvers they’d been taught, this dawi still wore his shield on his back and maintained the offensive in bold defiance of the enemy. The fool was a force to be reckoned with, no doubt, and probably envisioned himself as some type of inspiration. He also might be the downfall of the clan against a stronger opponent. Norgrim’s heavy white whiskers lifted in a small smirk as he turned away, amused at what his son must be thinking as he evaluated the next generation’s performance.   Honor in Waiting: Norbrum Proudsong held one of the greatest honors a duardin could be afforded. As captain of the Peak Guard he fought at the king’s right hand and was responsible for selecting and training the king’s new personal bodyguard. His excellence with either warhammer or short sword and shield were well known throughout the clan. Norbrum had successfully commanded units of reclaimed in legendary encounters: holding realmgates alongside the thunder god’s stormcast, cutting through herds of beastmen to deliver the Azyr’s words of hope, and most recently, standing guard at his king’s side as the slave hordes pressed close at the command of a beaked shaman and his cultists. “The hammer and shield” they were admiringly called - father and son leading the greatest the Vengeful Throng had to offer. His father trained every hammerer to pass through The Chosen, including the revered who raised the king’s banners, carried his grudges, and had whispered him advice since childhood. Norbrum’s climb was swift, rising to captain the Chosen, then into the guard, and finally refining his maneuvering and tactics enough to be trusted with calling the orders alongside the king himself. He was his father’s finest weapon, forged in fires of battle as red as his wild beard. If only he was as skilled as a teacher... The king would be addressing the survivors tomorrow morning as soon as the sun crested the ring of mountains around their valley sanctuary. That meant the Thane would be having a quick bite of stonebread and nap by the fire for his late dinner and full armor and sharp wits for his breakfast. Too many nights like this and even this disciplined soldier might find himself astride a wooden bench, arm-wrestling for the next round as beardlings and rin looked on and fueled his ego… “I’ll leave that to you now son.” Norbrum said aloud, chuckling as he settled by the fire. Shifting his weight back and forth until he was comfortable, Norbrum’s senses heightened, as they were wont to do when he was anxious. Brom had saved lives. Brom had out-dueled several scores of desperate grots. And tonight there would not be a shortage of tales told about the carnage Brom brought. But come the morning, Brom would stand with his warriors while his father and grandfather stood with the hammerers. For all his accomplishments, Brom had not been able to outgrow his youthful impulsiveness and prove himself worthy of a place among the elites. For his part, Norbrum had tried to council the fool, and his son had played his part, nodding agreement as the shame burned in his flushed face. Why did he lack so much discipline? Why did he feel the need to always play the lone hero? Could he not see the honor of the shieldwall? The way it honored not just the warriors beside him, but his ancestors? **CRASH** The glass tankard shattered as it fell from his hand and collided with the stones he sat on, snapping the thane to his senses. He would speak to his son again when time allowed, but tomorrow the lad would be lucky to catch his steely blue gaze as it scanned the ridgeline for threats. His mouth was sticky at the edges, dry from his clenched grimace. Theirs was the warrior arm of the family; captains of broad-shouldered heroes and smiters of hell’s creations. Rungi had called on the honor of great duardin clans in order to bring to life the stuff of their childhood games, the Barazi-Wyr. His family would uphold their oaths, and the bull-tempered son would learn from the father’s deafening silence.     Thane Norbrum Proudsong, Captain of the  Grundal-Thrynaz A Great Honor Bestowed: Norbrum could recall the day the king bestowed onto him the gifts of the Grundal-Thrynaz, the first honor guard of emergent king. Now they added new hammerers to their ranks and grew to a full force under his command. It would be a somber ceremony; a moment of honor earned on a painful day so many had not survived. The broadbacked Darbli Doorcarver had lined wooden chests in a row before those to be recognized, each decorated with ornate carvings. The carvings depicted the great deeds of the clan since their emergence into Chamon. As Norbrum addressed each warrior, the clan’s grudge-caller opened the chest and laid out the contents one by one on the ground before him. Each item was a symbolic gift. Gleaming blue breastplate, gromril helm, runic warhammer; all inlaid with purple jewels of the kingsguard. Thick black leather gloves that could withstand the hottest forges. Talismans holding ancient powers. Brass tankards from the clan’s brewmasters, always to be kept full for as long as the honored could sit upright on a bench. Babes in the front row of the attending crowd could barely contain their excitement as each gift was bestowed. This was a day that would change the path of the dawi’s family for generations.                                               Darbli Doorcarver, trusted advisor and childhood friend of the king                                                 Grudge-Caller of the Karakigrom                                                                      Norbrum turned and faced a hammerer who had stripped to his underclothes. As he handed the great warrior each item, the dawi was transformed before their eyes. He was no longer an individual within the clan. He was the clan, the finest of themselves they had to offer. There were dark days ahead of them, but so long as these dawi could hold a warhammer the sun would rise again and chase away the night. This was why the ever-stoic Norbrum served. This was why he held this position sacred. He believed Rungi was the sun that would drive the darkness from the duardin holds, and he, Norbrum Proudsong, would make sure this prophecy was fulfilled. Grundal-Thrynaz, personal guard of King Rungi       

Rungi

Rungi

 

Engineer and Volley Gun kitbash: Gunther the mad and Die Grosse Kanone

So I've had a -lot- of fun today, building up myself an engineer and a volley gun for my freeguild!!   Any fans of the monster hunter franchise will notice that gunther's long rifle is actually a gunlance! Complete with stabby bayonet and a scope for the range finding optics. I'm quite happy with this guy, he looks truly mad and ecstatic with his big guns!   And next we have the volley gun! Known as Die Grosse Kanone (the big cannon in german) this is gunther's personal volley gun he built himself and as such is ramshackle and full of love (and gunpowder)   The big gun will also get an eccentric crew built for it soon too so look forward to that! I might add some more components onto the gun too. Like a big crank on the back!

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Painting madness! Getting freeguild ready for 03/05/2018

So I have a busy week ahead of me!   I've got a 3v3 game organised next week of order versus khorne. We will have myself and my freeguild along with Dan & his Pheonix Temple & Chris and his freeguild. It's going to be a tough game and we're likely going to have to try and win it through cunning, attrition and a boat load of shooting!   So what I have available so far, in various stages of painting: 10 gunners 10 guard w/ sword and shield 10 guard w/ militia weapons 1 freeguild general on foot 3 demigryph knights 1 cannon (albeit lacking in dwarven crew)   What I plan to finish building this week: 1 general on griffon 10 greatswords (mostly done just need to do a couple heads. They're a jaguar warrior conversion so take time to build but should be quick to paint) 20 guard (I hate building the guardsmen so this will hurt) 10 crossbowmen   Possibly 1 luminark depending on how many points I have left as it would be nice to have something to buff my teammates. Also a 30" range gun will be nice for upsetting bloodsecrators.   I'm going to be detailing my progress on the blog and also brainstorming some lists. Should be good fun!   I do love my freeguild but they are a pain to get built and painted sometimes  At least the demigryphs were fun when I did them. Also note to self: Buy some rocket batteries at some point... and make an engineer.  

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Serious showdown: Tzeentch versus Fire Aelves!

So today was an epic clash between my disciples of tzeentch and my friend Dan's vicious mixed elf army! His elves are all linked by a firey colour scheme and pheonixes hence the name fire elves.   My tzeentch are instead linked by the fact they all refuse to die. I may be bad at killing but at least I hold out well For our scenario we had to try and hold both objectives with no enemy models near them to win. It was a super fun and close game with lots hinging on lucky (and unlucky) dice rolls. I tried out 6 skyfire and oh boy is it much better than 3! Though had difficulty displacing dans eternal guard and his phoenix tore through my warpfire dragon. I had a lot of units hold on well though and my 20 tzaangors took MVP for me for just holding their corner for practically the whole game! fending off dragon knights, bleaksword and a hydra! I made a lot of mistakes and forgot some things as it's been a while since my tzeentch force came out to play. As usual they did really well at holding their ground and a few tricks allowed me to keep some of his units locked in combat to keep my objective safe. I also played some of my units a bit poorly, although they did well my tzaangors were locked in a corner all game and my warpfire dragon drawing the attention of a phoenix and his guard really hurt. He should have instead launched forward to mess with the eternal guard on Dan's objective. I also didn't use my destiny dice enough which was very silly of me. It's a powerful mechanic and I need to utilise it better. Unfortunately I forgot to take notes for a full batrep so I shall remember for next time but it was nice to get more playtime with my tzeentch and tzaangors and they definitely remain a firm favourite for me. So many attacks!  Next steps with the army (besides painting) are gonna be test out horrors some more as extra shooting and cheap wounds could be useful and see about maybe a second tzaangor squad. I also need to really practice different things with them and nail down a good list mixing the DoT and STD units. Regardless I'm constantly learning new things and really got to see my strengths and weaknesses today.   Below are a couple of late game pics (apologies for my lack of paint, it pains me too). And sorry for this odd and sparse recount! Better to remind me to write it down next time! Regardless it was a fun clash and ended in a draw. I shall have to organise a rematch sometime and do a proper writeup.   Me and dan will join forces next week for a 3v3 vs khorne where my order boys will come out for a spin. I'll try and get notes and a batrep for that!

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When you write sepulchural as sepultural. Roots, bloody roots!

Hi, people.  Here is some progress on my Warband of Dread Solstice. As you can see I've added another five black knights and black Kurfurst. And something much bigger will come after. A little background on my Warband:  The great Empire of the world that was provided to Sigmar many souls of great heroes for his Stormcast's army. But there were not only heroes. Many of that great warriors lost their faith in last days of the old world. Some of them were trying to find salvation in dark Gods promises of eternal life in unending slaughter, some in the bottom of the wine bottle celebrating the End Times. These apostates, traitors and oath-breakers were buried by the weight of their sins and under the wreckage of the world that was.   Millenias after, by the strange power of an ancient mechanism, they were brought to life if their existence can be called so. The strange person, ancient living dead, known as Prophet of the Twin-tail comet turned to this raised warriors of the old world with such words:"Maybe Sigmar think that we don't match to his shiny holly citadel, maybe He even didn't know of our existence, or maybe He's turned his sacred face against us. It doesn't matter for, because we are the damned sons of Sigmar, and now our accursed father will face us and tell us for why he abandoned his children.".    

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