Fangs of the Leviathan - Wendigo themed Slaanesh army

[Enoby]

I've been working on this army for a bit over a year now. It started as a small passion project based off a character I liked in a Warhammer Fantasy RPG game (set in the AoS world) for a narrative game, and grew from there into a pretty large army. 

I can't say it's fully complete now - because when is an army ever truly complete? - but it's definitely reaching a point where no new ideas are jumping out to me at the moment. As such, I thought it'd be nice to post a collection of my models and a little backstory to go with them all. 

Just to keep the posts short-ish, I'll post the units in chunks. 

I will need to get a better picture of them all together soon, but I've attached an older one from last year.

The Overarching Story

Ghurenheim was once a proud city. A strong bastion of Order against the wilds of Ghur. Now the city stands as a testament to the corruption of Chaos.

What started as a drip of poison within the grand city turned into a torrent of bile that tore the city asunder in a flash flood of violence and psychosis. This carnage was masterminded by a pair of lovers, whose names are cursed forevermore. 

Togetherness, love, justice, and metamorphosis were what was preached by them. Cannibalism, obsession, zealotry, and mutation were what was practised. They lead their followers as mothers, and guided them to better themselves; they preached love to their children. They told them of what kindness they had in store for the citizens of Ghurenheim, and their followers believed them. They told them that their forms were imperfect, and they changed themselves through violent transmorphication. They told them that their thoughts would be best in their motherly embrace, and they surrendered their will. They told them their bodies only held back true love, and they made their last walk into the open mouth of Hell. 

The accursed lovers attacked with both martial might and a mastery of dark magic. One of the couple had a hunger for flesh that could not be sated, and the other wished to grow their fleshwood forest. Together, they fed into their madness, driving one another deeper, and in doing so corrupted their followers so much so that what attacked Ghurenheim could barely be described as human. 

The Leviathan was born through this conglomerate of solipsism and obsession. Only one living mortal saw the apotheosis that befell the two accursed lovers. Whatever they became, it was quickly torn from the mortal plain and thrown into whatever abyss birthed it. 

Ghurenheim was left wounded. The mad cultists and beastmen who worshipped the accursed lovers dispersed without their goddesses to guide them.

For a time, it seemed Ghurenheim could recover.

But the abyssal fiend could not let its prize go. It could not slumber in the depths forever, and so it plotted its return. Leaving a carefully laid trail of ‘gifts’ and promises, its corruption seeped into the minds of mortals.

[Enoby]

The first and my personal favourite of my models is for the Leviathan - Skallindara, the Devouring Mother - herself. 

There are two models for Skallindara, one using Archaon and the other using a Tyranid (a trygon I think - I'm not 100% certain on Tyranid names). The smaller one came first, and was more of a test to see if I could bring the daemon into model form; I tend to use this one as a Keeper of Secrets, even though fluff wise they're a daemon prince. 

The smaller one was made with a trygon body and jaws, a lot of greenstuff, a skull box, a keeper of secrets head and arms, and Shalaxi's spear (with a KoS sword on top). 

The larger one came as I wasn't happy with the size or quality of the former. I liked them at first, but I was only getting used to greenstuff at this time so there's a lot of messiness looking back. I also wanted the daemon to be massive - towering over even greater daemons, so I decided Archaon would be the best model for this. In order to do this conversion, I used a full skull box, A LOT of greenstuff, a zombie dragon jawbone, and a keeper of secrets head. The legs and tzeentch head were removed and sprue inserted to support the gap, and then greenstuff over these gaps. The wings are pinned on for ease of transport, so they actually fit in a GW case.

Skallindara, the Devouring Mother

Legends have persisted of what happened to the accursed lovers who poisoned the very soul of Ghurenheim. Goodly priests had insisted they were slain in the final siege, and their souls sent to some place awful to be punished for eternity. Their allies, those of the other forces, held the cynical belief that they had turned tail and fled in the midst of the battle, and had either found somewhere else to ruin or had died along the way. Those who were devoted to them could not handle the feeling of loss, and many killed themselves in maddened grief. Others turned to delusion, and ironically it was in this insanity that they found the truth. The forests around the city remained a sanctuary to those who stayed, and for some this was enough to prove their mothers were out there... somewhere. Those who clung on to hope had visions in their dreams of some place beyond, and the unmistakable and familiar feeling of their mothers’ embrace was all they could remember from their slumber.

In truth, the accursed lovers were made into one being - into a loving amalgamation of one another blessed by their patron with daemonic immortality so they could spend eternity together. But with this blessing - something they considered worth any price - came many curses. For one, the gaping hole inside of the aelf was only made larger, and so the craving for flesh became both shared and insatiable - even when their vile body gestated inside of the womb of Chaos, their stomach screamed in longing pain. Their disgusting, wormlike form - while powerful - was unusually unchangeable for a daemon, not including its constant growth as more flesh was consumed; many would have considered this a blessing, for they were larger in stature of the vast majority of daemon princes and thus stronger, but their form ensured that they could never be more than what they had made themselves. 

When in the Realm of Chaos, they ‘care’ for those souls they have consumed - filling them with their own essence, draining them of individuality, and forcing them to partake in a dreamscape constructed many years ago. They despise the neverborn, and this hatred is returned in full; raids upon their dreamscape are common, and while they have some protections in place, it is not uncommon for exceptionally unlucky souls to be left in awful pain - marring their paradise and mutilating their ‘children’. 

But still, even in paradise, they long to be in the Mortal Realms. Predominantly, it is the only place to acquire fresh souls and to absorb more into their mass, but it is also the location of their children, their home, and of course, Bella Adelhof. 

Now they make plans and schemes to breach the skin of reality and be birthed into the Mortal Realms; they have infested many mortals even when hidden in the murky waters of the Realm of Chaos, and ensured that their most loyal servants were aware of them in some form. Now they themselves push against the thin sheet that prevents them from reaching their goals, so close to being free. Close enough that they can taste it.

[Enoby]

The 'normal' leader in smaller scale narrative games would be 'the Wendigo' - a man possessed by a cursed suit of armour. I also use this model for a character in the aforementioned TTRPG - same armour, different person.

The Wendigo

 

The Wendigo was once a man from some unknown, unimportant backwater village. His name has been lost by all but one, Edmund von Fleisch. The rest of the person now called The Wendigo has been eaten away by madness and desire to consume people, and now all that is left is a dementia ridden puppet.

Some may wonder why the Leviathan would bestow such a cruel fate on one of its own, especially in the form of a gift. Truly, no one knows the alien thoughts of that abyssal creature, but some speculate that it is meant more of a penance than a boon; perhaps the Wendigo was some awful person who, in some twisted way, the Leviathan had sought fit to punish. 

But regardless of who he was, he is currently a threat to all of Ghur. His very body is a powder keg ready to alight at any moment, and if the correct circumstances presents itself, his body undergoes a horrific transformation into a daemonically enhanced beast. More than that, by donning the Skallithian Plate, he has sealed his fate. Once he has consumed enough flesh, his body will bloat and transform into a womb for the Leviathan to be birthed from. 

Until then, he leads the Fangs of the Leviathan onwards in search of more fresh meat. 

Edited September 1, 2020 by Enoby

[Enoby]

Ghazk looks quite a bit like a Bloodborn boss, but he was a lot of fun to paint and make. The model was made from the Ogroid kit, and a minotaur axe head on the staff - a very easy conversion

Ghazk, the Leviathan's Headman

 

In the time before Ghurenheim fell, Gazk had been the personal bodyguard of the accursed lovers - a beast with enough strength to send any foe reeling, but with enough sense that he would not attack his allies. Unlike most minotaurs, his skin was hairless, and this caused him great discomfort in the snowy north; thankfully for him, his time there was short lived and the temperate climate of the city’s perimeter combined with a honey-based cream was enough to soothe his raw flesh. 

Very few people survived the Leviathan’s rise and apotheosis, most of their cult and warband being killed or consumed at some point, but Gazk was of a stronger build - an executioner and a pet in one. Upon the ascension of his mistresses, he underwent a profound transformation that opened up his mind both metaphorically and literally. The skin on his head was burned away to ash, leaving a fiery skull in its wake. More than that, his mind touched the abyss, and the abyss caressed it; this brief exchange left him a prophet of sorts, or at least able to receive vague visions from beyond.

Now Gazk wanders the land as a headsman, sent to take the lives of those his visions tell him to kill, consuming what his supernatural bloodgreed commands. His axe, the Abattoir, has been kissed by the Leviathan and it shares their thirst for flesh; it acts as a divining rod of sorts, able to point in the direction of the unenlightened masses ready to be brought to the slaughter. 

[Enoby]

Edmund von Fleisch was the first hero I made for this army; I play them as an Exalted Hero of Chaos, but this may change to a Lord of Pain when the model comes out. They were made from an Idoneth Soulrender, the top part of a Wildrider staff, and blades from the Slaaneshi chariots.

Edmund von Fleisch

No one is sure where Edmund von Fleisch is from; he never takes off his thin horned helmet, nor does he enjoy the company of others. It is known that he was with the Wendigo from the beginning of the warlord’s rise, and that he is one of the few who the lord can abate for any length of time. 

Despite not holding the rank of general, Edmund is known to be the better commander of the troops, and perhaps one of the few in the Fangs of the Leviathan who has any part of their sanity left. It should be understood that he is still a cannibal, a murderer, and a depraved man, but he is one of the few capable of carrying on a conversation without his mind breaking down in a starving frenzy. 

If one were to ask why he partakes in such awful acts with such bestial men, and he was in the mood to answer, he would say that it was for a greater purpose. That those who accompanied him were a necessary evil. In his mind, he knows the truth of the abyssal Leviathan, and he knows why it has spared him the psychosis that infects the others. In his mind, he knows that they mean well for him and will reward him with paradise for his service. 

Until then, he tends to the beautiful fleshwood forests by grinding up the bodies of the unenlightened into easily digestible chunks. When summoned to battle, something that he does not appreciate, he fights with reserved obligation. He knows his mother-goddess wills it, but he detests how good it feels to have the spray of viscera flood the inside of his mouth, and how much it makes him feel as much a beast as his companions. 

[Enoby]

The Wendigors are my bestigor stand ins (though if Slaangors ever get a real release, they'll be a stand in for them instead I reckon). They are made from Tzaangors, but with a mane of greenstuff added around the neck for a more ferocious look. A few of them have skeletal horse heads from the hexwraith kit; I would have done this for all of them but it would have become too expensive. 

Wendigors

 

In the days were the accursed lovers walked amongst the living, they had thought they had mastered the art of transmorphication. While they were certainly proficient, they were nothing compared to the artists they became. Wendigors are a product of their daemonic genius; the abyssal fiend knows that, in order to spread itself throughout Ghur, it must have an army. Mortal men will do well enough if they are all that is available, but to them, the average human is like a child and they abhor to send them to war. 

Wendigors are children who have grown up - proud knights who have been judged worthy by the Leviathan, and been gifted with transhuman physical prowess in return for their minds. Unlike the mortals of the Fangs, who are maddened by desperate hunger and a need to join with their daemonic mother, the Wendigors have no mind left. In place of their brain is a tangle of veins, flesh, and vines which act as a node for the Leviathan; if the daemon was the brain, and the forest a body, the Wendigors are the white blood cells that destroy any infection. While the sane would wonder what person would make the ultimate sacrifice and become one of these creatures, the chosen view it as the ultimate reward - full integration with their beloved.

In battle, they can be a stoic and disciplined regiment one moment and suddenly spring into a flurry of tooth and claw the next. While they will attack with their bone-forged greatswords, they will always consume their victims and any dead allies. Indeed, the fate of any Wendigor is for its body to be taken back into their mother; either through its flesh being consumed by its kin, or by living long enough to become bloated with its meals and being consumed by the Leviathan itself.

[Enoby]

The Unworthy are my ungor stand ins, there to fit into the Depraved Drove.

The Unworthy

If a Wendigor is the equivalent of an exalted knight, an unworthy is a disgraced one. There have been many aspiring chaos warriors who have tried to join in the Leviathan’s family, often for power, or for an easy taste of human flesh, or to escape some crime they have committed. Regardless of their reasoning, their cause is judged as unworthy and their bodies are put to better use.

These unfortunate souls have their bodies warped into frail beastmen; their stomachs are loosened so that they may consume more flesh, and the heads of the most depraved are transformed into gaping skulls. Their new purpose becomes to consume flesh and stand as a wall between the enemy and the more favoured children. Unlike the Wendigors, they do not have the blessing of losing themselves - while they lose their will, they do not lose their consciousness and instead must live the remainder of their miserable lives until they have found penance in death. 

[Enoby]

The Deacons of Flesh are my minotaur stand ins. While I'm still a bit iffy on the minotaur kit, I enjoyed painting these guys.

Deacons of Flesh

 

The Deacons of the Flesh are a group of minotaurs who follow Gazk as if he was a prophet; through their primitive eyes, they see him as the peak of their kind - powerful, in touch with the raw forces of chaos, and well fed. 

While base shamanism is common for minotaurs, the Deacons are one of the few who have any semblance of organised religion. In order for a minotaur to be accepted into their order, they must starve themselves for six days, and their next meal must be the flesh of their own face which they are expected to tear off from their skulls. After this, they must baptise their axe in blood, and it must be kissed by the Leviathan within six further days. If this is not possible, then they will be judged unworthy and promptly torn apart and consumed. Those who are accepted into the order are provided for like a family, and equal share of meat is passed between them; this comradery is very unusual for these beasts under normal circumstances, and they almost live like a family - bonding with one another.

Those who are especially pleasing to the Leviathan find strange runes form beneath their skin, and they are known to their kin as Arch-Deacons. While they do not possess the same connection that Gazk does, they have the honour of hearing constant whispers in the back of their mind. 

[Enoby]

The Starving Masses are my marauder stand ins. They're made of Glade Guard kits, mixed with daemonette bits and skull boxes. While I like them, they're a bit pricey considering how many marauders you need, so I may switch to ghouls.

Starving Masses

The starving masses are poor men and women who feel lonely, and try combat this with supernatural aid; many times this will result in nothing, but sometimes their prayers will be met with the loving embrace of the Abyssal Mother. As soon as contact is made, the person is damned to become something less than human; their cravings for togetherness will heighten at first, until they have to be so close that only eating the others will suffice. This awful hunger grows until it is all they can think of, and any semblance of themselves is lost. As if pulled by instinct, these sorry lot find one another and hunt in packs, taking people in the night. They roam like wild animals until someone dons the Skallithian Plate, and then they are drawn to them like hyenas to a carcass

[Enoby]

The Feasting Princes are my Chaos Chosen stand ins. They're made from Namantri thralls and the skull box. I wish I'd made a banner bearer and musician version, but that's something to consider next time.

Feasting Princes

 Some members of the Fangs of the Leviathan inspire themselves to perform greater feats of strength in search of a meal. Those amongst the starving masses who prove their devotion gain the favour of the Leviathan, and their heads are transformed into a facsimile of their goddess. This startling transformation ends once they stand a foot or so taller than their peers, and they awaken one night with their meat cleaver fused with bone. This symbol of status marks their importance, and as a reward they are given first pickings; their ferocity inspires others to commit greater acts. As the starving masses are inspired to move above their station, the feasting princes begin to crave togetherness and aspire to ascend to a Wendigor. 

[El Antiguo Guardián]

Your slaanesh army is both horrible and amazing: so is fantastic.

Very well done, everything: painting job, lore, converted models...

[Ggom]

Your models are terrifying. I honestly feel disturbed by the lore and modelling - it’s very original, even compelling. I’m not sure if this is a compliment 😶

I would definitely read more of this. The free hand on the demon wings is also impressive.

[Popisdead]

The painting on the Wings is truly lovely to see.  

[Enoby]

Thanks for the kind words everyone

 

There are a few more pictures

 

The following are the Wendigo Knights - chief amonst the Mother's warriors and those next in line to become the next Wendigo should the current one fall. They are what a Feasting Prince aspires to be, and are the ones tasks with guarding the nest of the Leviathan.

[Skreech Verminking]

This Is amazing!!!😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

[NorthernNurgling]

Inspirational stuff, I love the commitment to the fluff and the balls-out bravery of some of the conversions! Cutting up Archaon would make me faint.

[Overread]

Darn this is some very very epic stuff! Some fantastic work in those conversions (all those skulls must have taken ages to put onto the serpent body). Very creative and very fun! 

[Enoby]

I can say for certain that I'll be adding the new mortals into this army, including some conversions with new parts. I do have an idea for Sigvald, but at the same time I do want a normal Sigvald too - maybe will have to get two

 

[Sorrow]

@Enoby

Absolutely beautiful!

Yours is among the most creative Slaaneshi armies I have seen in my life.

I must admit, I can not wait to see what you do with Glutos.

[Enoby]

On 3/19/2021 at 9:02 PM, Sorrow said:

@Enoby

Absolutely beautiful!

Yours is among the most creative Slaaneshi armies I have seen in my life.

I must admit, I can not wait to see what you do with Glutos.

Thank you I have some big plans for him, and a backstory pretty much set - this one being one inspired from random chance in the original fantasy game that inspired this army I'm hoping to have a large write up for each unit when I have them all painted! 

[PainfullyMediocre]

Wow, this army is incredible. 

[PiotrW]

All right, as I promised, I looked at your army here... oh wow, this is some insane stuff 😵

Insane in the good way, I mean The whole concept is really unique and the amount of work you put into these conversions is amazing.

And I didn't know Slaanesh armies can be portrayed that way! I've always assumed Slaaneshi folk would be sex, violence and pincers...

[Enoby]

I'm starting to update this again and I'll start with 'Sigvald' and 'Glutos'

The Wendigo, Final Trimetrian

When the terminal state of the Wendigo is reached, their body bloats and grows, muscles bulging and they tower above their followers. While this mutation does come with increased speed and strength, it is not a blessing - a fact made all too clear by the squirming bulge that protrudes from their stomach. 

At this stage, there is little in the way of thought that crosses their mind, but occasionally the voices and hunger will still - only for a moment - and they have the time to consider their position, and how powerless they are to prevent their ultimate fate. 

With only a few more conquests and bloody feasts, the Wendigo will complete their purpose and will birth the Leviathan, undoubtedly destroying their body in the process. The scraps of the deceased champion are invariably consumed, like the placenta eaten after an animal’s birth.

[Enoby]

Harbrand, Baldwin, Gaberiele, and Engelbrecht - the Firstborn of the Leviathan

Of the seven children the accursed lovers cared for when they were mortal, four of them took to war as adults under the protective gaze of their mother. These devoted children were Harbrand, Baldwin, Gaberiele, and Engelbrecht.

 

As children, they were born mutants to various families and were lucky enough to escape rather than face the witch hunters’ flame. Like many wayward mutants looking for a home, they joined the caravans of displaced people in Ghur as orphans. They ended up in the care of one of the accursed lovers - the aelf. This was so long ago that, at this point, the aelf had not met her soulmate and the black pit in her soul had not yet consumed her, and she proved a devoted mother. 

Time passed and their mothers’ power and corruption grew. While one of the seven had the good sense to flee, the others were so young they could know no better. Their souls were compromised and they knew only their mothers’ way. 

Like in most cults, mutations were common and the children were not spared. Harbrand was perhaps the worst struck as, even before the ritualistic cannibalism started, he developed an insatiable addiction to human flesh - an addiction that caused the death of many an unlucky cultist. Unfortunately his mothers were happy to spoil their children, and Harbrand’s addiction was waited on hand and foot. His brass body bloated as he got older, and his mother taught him magic so when he inevitably lost the ability to walk he would not be helpless. Even as an adult he is spoiled and demanding, but utterly dependent on his siblings and, when possible, mother to tend to even his most basic needs. 

Baldwin was always a quiet child, and his final mutation reflected this - his skin turned pitched black and he became all but totally numb. At first he turned away from his family, uncertain on how to relate to anyone anymore. Unable to watch their son suffer, the mothers’ looked outward for a fix to his numbness, and in the torture chambers of Skalthrax he found a way to feel - by inflicting pain on others. As an adult he has perfected the bladed lash, bringing himself closer to truly feeling something. 

Gaberiele could, at face value, be considered the luckiest of the children when it came to the mutations they acquired. She received regeneration, and while many warriors could only wish for a gift that useful, her gift made her perfect for a rather gruesome role. While she claims that the regeneration is a pleasant sensation, she would not go as far to say she enjoys feeding parts of herself to Harbrand. While she understands that it is the only way to placate him in the middle of combat, she believes herself to be worth more than her spoiled brother, especially as she is the only one who can communicate with their mother in the Realm of Chaos when she ingests parts of her own body. 

Engelbrecht thinks of himself as the most straightforward and levelheaded of his siblings, and in many ways he is correct. As a child his thorned body gave him the edge in any scraps he ended up in, and as he grew up he learned that his potential was untapped and he took lessons from both his mother and her general. He quickly rose through the ranks of chaos warriors, partially due to an advantage in equipment and support but mostly through sheer determination. He found himself standing as general in the final strike at Ghurenheim, and now sits alongside his siblings as their guardian, but in his mind, the only one worthy to be called a leader.

As a final parting gift when the Leviathan forsook her humanity, she flayed the flesh of her womb and draped it over a bone frame, creating a parasol from which they can look over their children.  

 

[LeonBox]

...well. I thought the bit about the priestess feeding bits of herself to her brother was messed up. Then I got the flayed womb. 

Twisted in the most delightful possible way, and fantastic painting/converting as always.