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Charleston

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  1. Charleston
    Hi all,
    it´s been a long time since the last update so I tought I may share some pictures of my baddies. Currently only the husskard is really concidered to be finished as I´ve put some time and effort into him to make him ready for our great painting competition here at TGA. The Stonehorn Riders (Tentacles-Mount) needs some touch ups all over, the Frostlord still lacks the reins and I struggle to come up with how to improve the Thundertusk. Nevertheless, I already love the models. I hope you enjoy them, too!














  2. Charleston
    So, I finally managed to put a basecoat on my Stonehorns so I used the opportunity for a quick snapshot so I can share my next two ginished models/units. Forgive me please the poor image quality. I am actually not sure why the quality on my phone dropped so hard, I guess I have to check the settings~ When the models are painted I will post an update with a better image quality!

    First of all, my Husskard on Stonehorn.
    There are still some minor details I have to correct like to add the minor horns and to fill a gap in the additional horns. Yet I like the current outcome. The Horns will be painted boneish on this bad boy, no steel look like on my Frostlord intended. The Corpsecard on the back is a neat snack collection for the long trip and great to fill the mournfangs with some new vigor for the next earth shattering charge!
    The second unit which was hinted in the short that I wrote are my Beastriders on a mutated Stonehorn. Only the gods know what ancient evil caused this mutation to happen:
     
  3. Charleston

    Short Story and Update

    By Charleston,

    Hi guys,
    short update: After concider if I shall either stop at 2 models or go on, I finally decided to keep going with the Ghostclaws. Currently I am about to build the next 2 Models for the army. As converting the Frostlord was a lot of fun that really motivated me to do more for the hobby, the next two models will be also used as plattform for conversions. Aim: 100% more cool. 100% more creepy.
    Before I can share them I will also post the update on my mournfangs as I am about to finish 6 of 8 models within the holiday time.
    To celebrate the first Kit I am about to assemble this evening, I would like to tease the upcoming conversion with a short story.
    Arthur held up his lantern into the pitch black night. The marshes were silent this night, which was quite unusual concidering all the usual chirping and buzzing. Also, the fireflies were gone. Shyish was not a realm well known for it´s beauty, yet the violaceus marshes were one of the most breathtaking places Arthus has ever visited. It was a vast landscape of elusive ponds that reflected every single shyishian sunset with a vibrant violett taint that led to their name. The high grass around the swamps and the purple fireflies were a motif that Arthus desired to bring down on canvas since the first tales he heard about from merchants. It was risky, but together with Ghvan and his men, sellswords from Anvilgard that pledged to be honorous men of a proud guild of protectors, he managed to travel safely, almost  unworried by the dangers of the realm. It was a long and expensive trip from Anvilgard to this shyishian oasis, but it was worth it. Well, at least the last 2 days which he could spend the evenings in painting his new piece. This wonderfull depiction of the beauty of the realm would be his last masterpiece in his series "7 Realms of Beauty". But this evening was different. There was no sunset. Instead the marshes just went darker and darker until Arthus and Ghvans' men were stranded in this darkness.
    "Well, no painting for you today. I assume you want to stay longer here so you can finish that picture of yours. I assume the additional days are paid on arrival, too?" Ghvan intoned, coming from behind with a gleefull smile. "It´s not a picture, it´s a portrait of the landscape, a masterwork tha.." Arthur started, but the Leader of the Sellswords burst out with laughter. "Well, if you manage to turn this into gold to pay us, I´m fine with it!" said Ghvan, slaped on Arthurs back and went on to his men. The sellswords sat at a campfire nearby. Some went on patrols and most of time was spend drinking and singing as the men were bored. Since they entered the marshes there were no deadwalkers or other undead around, so the general tone was more relaxed than during the rest of their journey. Indeed, the sellswords have shown an affinity for the swampy landscape and found a quite safe route through the treacherous terrain.
    The night went on as pitch black as it started. After hours most of the men laid down to sleep, while Arthur stayed to finish some details from memory, at least as far as he could. When Ghvan approached him, he didn´t look up but stayed focused on the line of shadow he was blurrying to add another touch of distance on the canvas. "We have a problem" he said. Arthur sighted ."I told you already, I will pay on arrival". "It´s not about the payment". Arthur looked up and noticed the quite young and usualy impish expression on Ghvans face gone. Instead he saw frustration and fear in the mans eyes. A look he last saw when portraing a man sentenced to death. "Two patrols are gone. Simply disappeared. Six well trained men. Also some other men said that they heard some strange noises. Grunting. Gurgling. It seems that there is something out there". "Well, then deal with it. Isn´t this what I am paying you for?" Arthus said, suprised by his own harsh tone that burst out to cover his fear. Ghvan nodded contemptuosly and went back to his men.
    Later in the night, after Arthur laid down and tried to sleep, the camp was pierced by the scream of a man in terror. Arthur shoot up from his sleeping place and turned into the direction of the screams. His jaw opened wide in shock and awe. What he saw was beautifull and terrifying at the same time. The sky glowed green behind the high grass that surrounded the camp. The men whos scream woke up the camp knelt in front of a giant creature. Weird shapes wormed through the air, iluminated by the light glow of the sky. That ghostly aurora got brighter and brighter while that creature aproached the camp. Arthur could not understand what his eyes saw. It was a huge monster, it´s horns spread wide to the sides, each single tusk larger than a full grown man was tall. And then, there were all thoose squigling and coiling things that looked like tentacles of the sea creatures that were common to the coasts of Anvilguard. On top of this abstract beeing sat an ogor, glowing in the same ghastly green as the sky. Two skulls were tied into his beard and a plate of steel was boltet on his head. The ogor chuckled, tighted the reins and the giant beast leaped forward. With a single stomp and the sound of crackling bone the body of the kneeling man was pushed deep into the ground. Tentacles leashed out strangling several men at once, while horns catapulted others far away. Some men were drawn by the beast into the dark of it´s throat. A hoarde of ghosts loomed from the skies, floating through the scene of this massacre. Arthur couldn´t move. What he saw was beautifull and terrifying at the same time. The tense motif of a predator and it´s prey. The desperation of thoose, who saw sure death approaching. The exotic shapes of what is incomprehensible. The weeping dead which mourn for the yet living. The fact, that he too would be part of this subject, pierced his heart. It would bring him fame to paint this scene. But what was the worth of fame in a moment as this, he tought, while the beast lashed out a tentacle at him. The grip was cold, not the grip of a living thing, but something alien. Arthur started to weep, as his soul lifted from his body. The dark sun of the realm was rising on the firmament, but he didn´t noticed. He wept, as the beauty of this moment would never manifest on a canvas. He wept with the other souls. 
     
  4. Charleston
    Another Unit for my Ghostclaws is almost finished, this time a Battleline one: The Riders on Thundertusk.
    I´ve got the model in a prepainted state from a friend and kept the fur and the tusks as they were before. The Chaintrap was broken and the parts missing, so I added a Banshee that will serve as a stand in for a vulture.
    I think the project will take more time than assumed. I am really not motivated to work on the "small" dudes as I have also a ton of other miniatures that want to be painted. So there will be a break before the next units come. Which is fine as thoose are a fun painting project so far and won´t see much of a game I think, at least untill a tome drops




  6. Charleston
    Edit: I have to get used to the Blog-Function as this is my first one. I will attach the origin story from my Blog Description here so you at least can see that this Blog is about: Armybuilding.
    The Mournwoods are a sinister place, even for Shyish terms. It is a vast forest east from the city of Gothizzar. It is known for its blackoaks, trees which looks like molten rock, claid in black leafs. The Mournwoods seldom see light as is is veiled greyish black fog for most of the days. There are certain legends about this place and about the ruins of old castles which are scattered across the woods. Parents warn their children to never enter the wood, but actually most sane beeings avoid this place. Even Vampires tend to take a way around, and the few Kharadron Traderoutes that cover southern Shyish are painstakingly laid in a way to avoid the woods, as the mist may rise and devour a whole fleet on a bad day. There are only few natives to the Mournwoods. Wanderers of Dark Paths, clad in Black Coats, have built up a small city within the protection of the repellent aura. Also Necromancers seek in the Woods for old Relics and Shrines, in the hope of finding a Relic they can use for their own machinations.
    Once, on one of the many silent days in the woods, a chill wind came up from the north and brought noise with it, which was yet unknown to the Mournwoods. The Wanderers of the Dark Paths, seeking for the reason of this disturbance, found a small group of Ogors, riding on giant beasts, riding deeper and deeper into the woods. These giant brutes were only a shadow of what they were described as in legends: Thin creatures, with loose skin which indicated that their flesh was once filled with a cushion of strengths. The Ogors were starving and also were followed by a parade of souls that flied around, mocking and laughing at the brutes. It seemed that in a cruel joke, the Lord of Death send them out to  irk and needle thoose intruders which came from one of the many realmgates into shyish. The Ogors tried to grasp or devour the shemes flying around them, but they grasped only thin air and earned laughter in response. The aelves didn´t bother. The Ogors will be no more within mere day, so meddling in this won´t be worth it at all. Or at least it seemed so, untill several days later the woods became colder and colder.
    A storm of ice rose up where the beastclaws were followed only by a chill gust days before. Also, the wood became more and more unruly. So the wanderers send out ranger to find the cause of the trouble, and what they found were as ironic as disturbing. The giant beasts of the Beastsclaw Raiders from days before were mounted by massive Ghosts. The mounts themself seemed not healthy at all, but nevertheless moved with unnatural vigor. It seemed like the beastclaws came back from the dead, and didn´t even bother. In the first row of their stampede a proud Frostlord rode on his Stonehorn. An old Shirne of the Deathmages was bound to the back of his mount, laying an cursed mantle of light on the army. In whatever way the Ogors managed to came back, this shrine had something in common with it. This terror was riding back north, following a caravan of ghosts that was heading them. Fat, glowing green Hands reached for the spirits and grabbed them like if they were manifested in flesh, only to stuff them down the throat of the Ogor they belonged to. The Spirits, once safe from the Folk from Ghur, now became a dinner to regain strengths on this march.
    The Plague from the Mournwoods was born and headed North, to the next village. The next Town. The next Realmgates. It headed to feast on the Souls, as there were many to harvest in this war.
    Well, I finaly wanted to start some project that will get a more love than the usual "built to play" army and as discussed in the cool Thread here I went for a Ghost Ogor army. It is motivated by an Armybuilding-Campaign from my local gw store and the first step is to build a SC!-Box untill next Saturday. I´ve got the back of a Mortis Engine from a friend who used the bottom half for his Black Coach and knew I had to do this project. The overall theme is a mix of Ghost Ogors, Stolen Death-Stuff and some woods-elements just because I like them.
    I hope you like this project. It will be a small one, covering 2 SC!-Boxes of Ogors so far
     
    Original Entry:
    Below you can see the first and most important unit of the army: Zboj, the Frostlord of the Ghostclaws, the Plague of the Mournwoods. I managed to build and prime him this weekend and hope to paint him up this week
     





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