The Brotherhood of Necros
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Posts posted by The Brotherhood of Necros
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Oooookay, I need 11 of those baboons 😍
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NOT LONG TO GO!
I’m guessing the FEC/SCE Warcry box and for Underworlds… TWO new Warband reveals. There, I said it! Universe, make it so!
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I would be ALL over some new Bonesplitterz. Can’t stand the proportions of those minis (why are their heads so big?!) but I love the concept and the lore behind the faction. Am converting some as we speak but a fresh wave (or even a unit) would be so welcome 🤞🏻
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Was there anything to back up the rumours of Spawning Pools? I’m in the process of building a 6 x 4 temple city interior (think the inside of the Eye of Chotec kind of vibe) and I’m wondering if I need to build my own pool or if GW is potentially bringing one out for Warcry?
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Happy Dino Day! Happy dino dance! So excited for my big frog to arrive. I can’t remember the order of the next battletomes — is Cities next before the rest of the Seraphon officially drop or have I got that mixed up?
Ribbit! 🐸
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Greetings, cold bloods!
I haven’t been this excited by a release in a long time.
My dad was my gateway to Warhammer, some thirty years ago. I’d sit by the gaming table for hours while he battled against Skaven and Bretonnians. One of his favourite armies was the Lizardmen and they’ve captured my imagination ever since.
This is my first foray into the Lizards myself. I’m a little bit obsessed with the idea of the “long defeat” — faded glories, dwindling strength, irreparable loss, impossible but noble battles, gradual declines, last stands and so forth. Few races illustrate this quite like the Lizardmen of old and I’ll be channeling it for my Seraphon.
Other things I love that will be reflected in this project:
—Underwater ruins
—Lovecraft
—Cults/folklore
—Horror
—Dioramas
—The slann aesthetic
Finally, I’m also keen to shift away from the Meso-American influences slightly in favour of more Ancient Briton vibes. Think the Celts, Albion, my lovely wet, boggy homeland, the UK. As well as being excited to root a project in, and make some mythology inspired by, the sort of local legends I grew up on, I think this will add a certain dank, squamous feel to the army when it eventually crawls from the swamps…
The scene
Picture ruins, half-swallowed by marsh water and wreathed in mist. It’s cold. Quiet, except for the croak of toads, crow chatter, an occasional splash. Each stone is ancient, towering, almost cyclopean save for the lingering suggestion where lichen fades that it had once been well-ordered, regular: perfect in its original construction. No more.
Columns rise like immovable reeds, by which the wary can map a treacherous route deeper into the mire. The unwary vanish, to join the base of the monoliths beneath the brackish surface. Walls sag. Arches slump. The sun appears to melt. Countless times you almost slip or trip, arms windmilling, and once come face-to-face with a broadly smiling visage, stone but no less unsettling, its lips like two fat slugs. Wade out far enough, and other things yawn back at you from out of the water: the gaping mouths of passageways long choked by bullrushes and weeds.
Your shadow starts as behind you, a sudden light wavers. Another. Then another, and now the squelch of hurried boots churning through the mud. No fireflies or will-o’-the-wisps these but torches and the ones bearing them bobbing in the gloom. To wait and greet whoever has tracked you to here, now, or keep to yourself and push on alone?
You see the figure seconds before it hops through the mist. Cloak flapping. Legs kicking. Hands splashing in the shallows. When it looks up at you from behind a grinning human skull, you turn, throw yourself into that tunnel and don’t look back.
Darkness, of the sort that makes you wish for moonlight, a torch, matches: anything to shed light on where you’re treading next. You stare until your eyes must be bulging. They water, your tears lost against the damp, the sweat. Still you stumble onwards, the prospect of your pursuer always a hop behind you. Your fingers find stonework — the tunnel wall? — and stay there, fumbling crack by crack deeper into the dark. Occasionally you turn, following sudden twists and turns. Left. Right. Left again. Seconds stretch on for hours or are gobbled up in the blink of a strained eye. Sometimes your fingertips brush moss, other times the angular scratch of what might be old runes or whatever passes for writing in this primitive place. Even as you think it, your choice of words feels wrong to you: for all the ancient architecture and irrevocable decay, the ghost of civilisation hangs over you, like a shed skin or scum on old water.
The first you see of it is a glimmer. A mote of light, blueish, like any of the countless others to have haunted your vision since losing yourself in the dark. But as you stagger onwards it steadies, grows, getting larger and brighter on your approach. You pick up your pace, clawing at the brickwork, breath gasping, nails scratching against the rough stone.
The stairs appear as if from out of nowhere. You don’t see them or sense them in any way until your feet are dangling into nothingness and then you are sliding, tumbling down. Stars explode behind your eyes, a constellation you do not recognise and will never see again. A splash breaks your fall.
The water is not deep but it is all around you. A glassy mirror, stretching off into nothingness, almost unbroken except for the ripples shimmering around you. Tall, rectangular columns rise from the water, weathered yet defiant. On either side of you, a short swim away, stairwells like this one lead to other passageways. The ceiling wavers back at you from the glassy waters, hewn immaculately from titanic slabs, hoary with stagnant slime and the tickle of far-reaching roots, all of it visible by the faint glow of two vast rocks embedded in the roof.
Their light bathes the room in a submarine blue, revealing every minute crack even as it turns the pool beneath into a massive mirror. For the first time you see the writing your fingers have traced, more pictures than words. Glyphs, not runes, etched timelessly in stone. Faces stare up at you from the water, statues hewn into the likeness of frogs and fish and things that might be neither or both reflected in its surface or perhaps watching you from just beneath it. Your face swims amongst them, thinner than you ever remember seeing yourself and impossibly pale, almost sunken beneath that unfaltering blue. You are still staring at yourself when several other faces appear beside you.
The vault echoes with your cry as you stumble backwards, only to realise those faces are reflections too and you are backing into them. A second shout echoes with your first as you plunge back down the steps and into the water, but the faces and the people to whom they belong don’t follow. In fact, they make no move at all, standing or crouching every bit as still as the statues around you. Some watch from behind skull masks. Others stare unashamedly down at you, beards knotted, fish bones dangling from their ears, noses, and the cowls of their hoods.
Slowly, cold seeping into every inch of your body, you swim out from the stairs. For a few moments, it is still possible to touch the bottom, the rest of the stairwell descending into the deeps, and then you are treading water. You make for one of the other passages — not the closest one, or the one after that, but something far enough away from the first that if your pursuers follow, you might have a a chance yet to run.
Overhead, one of the two rocks looms closer. Its light washes over you, strangely warm when it hits your face. A tingle passes through you that has nothing to do with the cold. Indeed, even the water here feels warmer, if only marginally. A faint sense of tranquility settles over you and for the briefest moment you dare to close your eyes.
When you open them, a monster is towering over you.
You thrash, the surface of the pool shattering around you, before you realise this too is a statue. It is gargantuan, made smaller only by its hunched pose, not dissimilar to that of a diver about to plunge into the water, and as you stare up at it, you cannot help but feel that that is where it belongs. There is something at once ichthyic and batrachian about it, a texture both scaled and slimy, that feels both strange and familiar. You realise that you have seen it before, or something much like it, carved in stone, smiling up at you from the brown marsh waters. The rocks have painted this one an aqueous blue, but the material from which it has been made shines unmistakably though: a vast effigy moulded from gold, tarnished, even green in some spots but bright where it catches the light and the waters beneath.
The scuff of leather on stone makes you turn. Your audience is still there, unmoving at the top of the stairs, except they have moved since last you checked, for to a man they have dropped kneeling to the cold stone floor. Quickly you make for the nearest stairwell, pulling yourself as quietly as you’re able from out of the shadow of the statue and through the water before they look up. Before long, your boot taps the first submerged steps.
Up ahead, two smaller statues stand sentry either side of your exit. You think of newts, or miniature versions of the idol behind you. Despite your desperation to be free of this place, you draw up before the sudden darkness. The portal is black, impenetrable, and the prospect of wandering blindly through the shadows again sets your heart racing. A faint breeze carries through it, rank and swampy. You are still staring into the inky blackness when the statue to your left blinks.
Your breath hitches as you stumble backwards. The steps are wet, like everything else in this place, and you immediately slip. The crash as you hit the water is like that of a stone striking a mirror. The pool shatters.
Water fills your mouth. Spluttering, you rise to the surface, but it has filled your eyes too. Even so, you can just make out the portal and the empty alcoves either side of it. Where have the statues gone? Even as you think it, you don’t want to know. The breeze comes again, carrying the stench of outside and something else: a voice. No, dozens of human voices, united in choir. The word means nothing to you, but it crawls down your spine anyway:
“Sunkegh! Sunkegh! Sunkegh!”
You are still shivering when the hand folds around your ankle and drags you under.
TLDR
An Albion-themed human cult dedicated to the worship of the Old One Tzunki and the small spawning of blessed skinks who still worship him from the ruins of a sunken temple-city, long swallowed by the marshes.
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29 minutes ago, Trokair said:
With the new Kroxigor I thought it might be time to work on Lizards again, and specifically a Kroxigor centric army now that they can be battleline. They do however appear to have not done enough sunbathing as they are now slower than before and can’t keep up with their little palls.
As there are no Kroxigor characters it will have to be a bunch of conversions and count as. Taking the movement, save and wound of the Kroxigor as a baseline and selecting characters that are in line with this I am looking at a 1000p list along the lines of:
Version 1
- Nakai the Wanderer (Saurus Scar-Veteran on Aggradon)
- Kroxigor mage (Skink Starseer)
- Kroxigor
- 2x Kroxigor Warspawned
- Kroxigor with Solar Engine (Spawn of Chotec)
Version 2
- Nakai the Wanderer (Saurus Scar-Veteran on Aggradon)
- Kroxigor Icon bearer (Saurus Astrolith Bearer)
- Kroxigor mage (Skink Starseer)
- 2x Kroxigor
- Kroxigor Warspawned
Thoughts?
Love the idea of a little skink priest on or beside a hulking Kroxigor bodyguard for your skink starseer proxy, a sort of divine counterpart to the Lizzies’ most hated foe’s Thanquol and Boneripper!
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YAAAAS! Will they run out of boxes? I’ve never bought a big box set on release day before so never had to worry about it 😅
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Blessed Tzunki, Lord of the Rivers, pleaaaase let it be the Seraphon boxed set announced tomorrow 🙏🏻
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I don’t know that I’m part of any crowd and I couldn’t speak for anyone else but I love the Warhammer Fantasy setting. I grew up on it. I still rewatch videos on YouTube explaining lore I already know. I reread army books I’ve read a hundred times. I was asking myself a similar question the other day because I realised just how much of an impact this fictional setting has had on me — my interests, my imagination, my career, my whole life, really — and I don’t think I can explain it except to say that it’s in my head and my heart. I’d be a very different person today if I hadn’t discovered these stories as a kid. (Thanks, Dad!)
The Defence of Itza. Aenarion and Indraugnir battling the Greater Daemons. Orion and Ariel, yet elven, wandering off into the forest together in answer to summons they can’t explain. The Rise of Nagash. Vlad, arriving out of the storm and meeting Isabella. Skarsnik and Gobbla! The death of Ariel. Lord Mazdamundi, eyes bulging as he finally glimpses the fate of the world and how little time he has left, after millennia of contemplation, to try and avert it.
The opportunity to officially revisit this world on the tabletop, in whatever form The Old World takes, at whatever pace it comes, is really exciting for me.
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6 hours ago, cofaxest said:
What if they will be a part of Alarielle forces? Trees+Animals+Insects
The Silent People, roused to glorious song 😍
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I couldn’t agree more. I would honestly be so happy with even a small Bonesplitterz update. I pray to the Great Green God for something, anything 🙏🏻
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Ooh my bad! I thought Brodd’s rumour was that the handbook/campaign book is the book dropping alongside the Cities tome, which would mean the FEC book comes with the Seraphon book beforehand. Either way, exciting times!
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If true, that would mean FEC are dropping very soon…
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The first rule of Whitefang Club is you don’t talk about Whitefang Club 🤫
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I was under the impression that Dawnbringer Crusades was a Wrath of the Everchosen-type narrative campaign book. Probably coinciding with or coming out around the same time as the Cities battletome but something that lots of different factions (and therefore players) can get involved with and have fun with.
Edit: A nice ❤️ from His Toothiness
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I really love these little guys. The biggest complaint I’ve heard about AoS from a lore/world-building point of view is that up until now it’s missed the ordinary people. The relatable characters, the Average Joes (no offence intended to any Joes lurking around here 👀). The men and women down in the weeds, mucking out the Gryph dung, manning the ramparts, selling Ironweld junk (too soon?) to a dishonoured duardin behind The Crusty Clam. Obviously it’s early days but these three slap me around the face with all that. They’re so characterful!
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And it’s….what, a month until WarhammerFest and the next reveal show?!
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Wow wow wow. Struggle to wake up for this one but hot damn. Two previews in a row I’ve been blown away!
The Lizzies. The Beastmen. (They will look BEAUTIFUL AoSified.) The Cities troops.
And the speed at which all this stuff is coming out! So happy and excited. 👏🏻
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26 minutes ago, CommissarRotke said:
we still have this Seraphon-y rumor to be revealed from at least a year ago:
Interestingly, these are NOT in the Warband so a Sylvaneth-sized release for FEC could be these:
And now that we know we'll probably see something from Cities/Dawnbringers... these REs could be our first model reveals:
THIS mace RE doesn't look as 40k as the gloved-hand one
https://warbosskurgan.blogspot.com/p/rumour-engines.html#unsolved
I think Whitefang confirmed earlier that this is also were-gorilla:
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1 hour ago, The Brotherhood of Necros said:
In its right paw, it is also holding a skull.
I think this solves a second rumour engine.
Whitefang approves!
You’ve gotta love how obscure some of these Rumour Engines are.
It’s a shaggoth!
It’s Ushoran!
Nope, it’s… a devolved FEC were-ape 😂
I will be buying multiples of him for a new project I’ve been planning 🤓
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In its right paw, it is also holding a skull.
I think this solves a second rumour engine.
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I genuinely think the new slann is my favourite model GW has ever produced. 😍
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Monday, Tuesday, Adepticon Eve, Adepticon, Boxing Day 😃
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The Rumour Thread
in Age of Sigmar Discussions
Posted
Ima guess… Flesh Eater Courts (some kind of mane?), Orruks (could easily be Ironjawz or Kruleboyz) and something for Sylvaneth (looks like a mount of some kind and we had the Life clue). Will happily be wrong and am absolutely buzzed for 12!