The First Steps
The tower seemed to glisten on the horizon. Was it possible Old Mags had never ventured this far south and the group had stumbled across a new landmark? There had certainly been no mention of it in the tales he used to tell once too much fire-wine had been drunk back at the clan. There was a rising murmur from the group at his back as they too saw the broken-topped citadel, silhouetted against the monotonous horizon of the southlands, like the hand of a drowning man reaching towards the sky as he slips beneath the waters, never to surface again. The murmur spoke of hope, of a chance for survival. Stot thanked Sen, the Protector God, for answering their prayers and turned to his bedraggled group.
He surveyed the wretched gang of survivors, all that was left of his clan. They wearily rested on the hafts of spears, or slumped on the ground and shared what little water remained amongst themselves. It had been a long day, fighting and latterly running for their lives. The last few stragglers caught up with the group, chivvied along by Cathis, one of the women who had fought their way out of the chaos last night alongside him and was quickly becoming the one person in the group Stot knew he could rely on.
“Cathis, look! We might find shelter there. If we can out-pace the Orruks before Tah consumes the sun, casting the world into darkness, we might be able to hide.” She approached, the weariness he felt showing in her face. Cathis peered into the distance as she stood next to him. “Is it… shining?” she asked, her expression of hope turning to confusion and concern.
Stot looked over his shoulder at the group of his blood-kin and their first-chosen. How the best warriors amongst his clan could be reduced to such a sorry state was almost unimaginable. More than half carried wounds of a sort, some which would likely be fatal over the weeks to come. If they could survive that long. Truly they had lost Sen’s blessing. But perhaps He had given them once last chance - a chance to survive and prove themselves to Him again.
“Clan-kin! We must not rest for long, the Orruks will reach us soon. We must seek shelter before Tah takes the light from us and the darkness comes.” He drew a deep breath and summoned the courage for the last stretch across the barren southlands.
“We must reach the silver tower!”
A Rough Draft
I painted up a very rough colour scheme test for my Tzeentch army last night, as well as a test base. It’s only single colour and wash, with no additional highlights, as I was just testing the colour scheme rather than completing a “test model”.
The model itself is an old Ungor I received in an eBay lot. It’s got horrendous mould lines on its legs, but I’ll be sure to clean the rest of them up before painting next time. I used Scale 75 Adriatic Blue for the skin, followed by a Army Painter Dark Tone ink wash, mixed up with a bit of Vallejo Glaze Medium so the wash didn’t overpower the blue. Metallics are purely Retributor Gold followed by a black wash, but I’ll look to try and change some of the colour of these by adding a purple glaze, hopefully that’ll make the armour look a bit more “Tzeentchy”.
The base is the piece I’m not sure about. Whilst the guide for black marble by @MengelMiniatures is excellent, I’m not 100% sure I want to spend all that time on 100 bases. My other option is to go for something a bit lighter, to make it look like sandstone flagstones rather than black marble. Less exciting, but certainly more conducive to me remaining sane. Does that base look any good? What else could I do to improve them?
Let me know what you think! Stay tuned to find out what happens to the motley gang of humans as they venture towards the Silver Tower!