Rungi

Your bases are great. They really tie the theme all together. Love what you've come up with so far.

Or keeping him as is could be a great way to highlight a rider with it's own extra bright color scheme...

You've brought so many cool ideas to life here! Really well-rounded little throng here. Can't wait to see what's next.

All the concept work you've done is really impressive. It's very clear where you're going. I'm curious to hear more about the warband and what role(s) they'll play within the city. Great start! Can't wait to read more.

In the blog intro I left a few disclaimers, one being that I'm leaning very much towards epic scale for fantasy currently... Which may be why I've been undertaking the madness of painting up a 100-strong unit of duardin warriors! Below is a WIP picture with models in various stages of completion. I'll update when it it's finished of course. Shots of the completed models and unit champion in the latest blog entry: The Barazi-Wyr

This is my favorite of the three. Great job painting the picture of his senses returning to him. Excited to see what's to come.

Hi Everyone, In an attempt to keep up a solid pace with my painting, I've started a blog. Please take a look. The Barazi-Wyr In it you'll find tales of my duardin as they seek to fulfil the "Barazi-Wyr" or Ice's Promise, along with photos as new characters and units are introduced to the storyline. I'm only minimally a gamer and much more of a hobbyist, so please excuse my drifting from the conventions of AOS as I find the right stylistic and thematic fits for my army. I will say that the wide-open possibilities of the mortal realms is what drew me back in after nearly 20 years away. Hope you like what you see! Feedback always welcome. A few of a few of the dwarves who have already made an appearance... King Rungi Roreksson, Revenger of the Karkigrom Darbli Doorcarver, bodyguard and childhood friend of King Rungi Lord Norgrim Proudsong, champion of the Chosen of Karakigrom Again, much more to come as the fluff comes together and I get more a painting done. Take a look and let me know what you think! The Barazi-Wyr

A King Emerges: At first the mystical light of the gate towering ahead hurt Rungi's eyes. It reminded him of when they had emerged from their underground slums in full force, and he had to remind himself not to squint in the light of the sun. A king does not squint, after all. If only Rungi could grow accustomed to his title and role as easy as to daylight. Surrounded by the greatest duardin champions he knew, and rank upon rank of their hardened warriors whose beards easily matched his own, the young king often felt more like the impulsive babe who was so frequently swatted to the floor by warriors without patience for a child's playful challenges. But he was no longer a child, nor a reckless beardling. He had spent decades rebuilding his clan in secret, reforging ancient alliances, and now he lead them to war. The weight of the clan's fate sat heavy on his shoulders. Rungi made sure that as he rode forward on his great mount, his gaze clearly communicated their resolve to any of the clusters of Devoted militia or Liberator patrols milling about. His people could not afford any hesitation in their zealous march. There would be enough to fear in the days to come. A lone figure strode into the path of the throng. He was nearly two-head taller than an average man and armored from head to toe. Rungi knew those eyes. Growing up in the shadows of their celestial city, Rungi had learned to suppress his rage at the condescending tone of the Azyerites, so quick as they were to forget their heritage. He had learned to live under the gaze of the thunder god’s soldiers and the air of disgust they emanated when their patrols took them through Reclaimed-duardin craftguild sectors. But the pale, unblinking glow that radiated a challenge from behind the Retributor’s otherwise stoic mask; that gaze was far too familiar and no longer something he would tolerate. Looking down from his mounted seat atop the great spirit-bear Rungi smiled and broke his stare with the defiant Stormcast. Scanning to his left and right, the young King saw his brothers in their radiant blues and crisp whites. Looking still further, he could see their brother-clans, dark-bearded in pelts and paler blues or redbearded in rich greens and oiled leathers. There were so many who had not survived to see this day. Rungi could not shake the sense of debt he owed to clans he had never even encountered. He hoped to one day find them and welcome them as brothers in his great hall. “Your papers, dwarf,” called the golden-clad warrior. “We are at war, or maybe you haven’t heard. You must possess written orders from Sigmar to pass through this gateway.” “I require no-one’s permission to enter my homelands. We share a common foe, and seek to avenge a most-grevious grudge. Your storm god will thank us when we’re finished.” Rungi tensed the muscles in his jaw to hide his amusement at the chuckles echoing from the throng. The stormcast was less amused. “Your papers, or you do not pass,” he declared in opposition. Lighting began to crackle around the head of his warhammer. Other stormcast who had previously been less eager to involve themselves in the face of this sudden and overwhelming host began to inch forward and into the throng’s path. “The Vengeful Throng will not be stopped, not by demon legion nor celestial one. Step aside guardian, or be met with dwarven steel.” At these words the stormcast eternal’s entire figure glittered with storm energy. He strode forward, steps turning to a trot, shoulders turning and hammer hefted backwards to strike. Just as the gargantuan warrior broke into a run and tensed to unload his hammerblow at the defiant duardin king, a lone hammerer broke the line. “Not today,” roared the walnut-bearded protector. The oafish Retributor tried to shift his weight and unloaded on this new target, but he could not bring the path of his hammer low enough to strike the ducking dwarf. The hammerer though exploded from his crouch to deliver an upward strike that caught the off-balanced stormcast under his jaw, knocking him clear off his feet and tearing the helm from his now bloodied face. Darbli Doorcarver - King's bodyguard, childhood comrade, and a salty b*****d always in the mood for a good dust-up... Just before the fallen’s eyes closed and he erupted in a flash of lightning, Rungi recognized the fool. He was part of a market patrol he had frequently encountered as a beardling, one that enjoyed the favors of many of the Azyrite nobility and thus had absorbed many of their same attitudes towards Reclaimed such as himself. Defiantly, Rungi stared down at the Liberators who had previously stepped forward, wondering how many had also taunted or dismissed him and his kin when their clan was at it’s lowest. Their shoulders slumped as they stepped aside. The throng marched through the massive Realmgate. They would do the reclaiming from here on out. King Rungi Roreksson, Revenger of the Karakigrom mounted on Karugromthi, Living Ancestor Spirit

Messengers in the Dark: Norgrim Proudsong awoke with a start. Had he been dreaming? KNOCK-knock-knock-KNOCK! There it was again. With a candle in one hand and his simple hatchet in the other, the dwarf squared his hulking shoulders at the doorway and opened to see who would come calling at this time in the night. At the edge of the shadows, backlit by the moonlight was a face Norgrim had hoped – nay, prayed for. His distant cousin Alaric Boldmane reached out to grasp the arm of his fellow warrior. He was fully clad in the runic armor spoken of in the tales of his clan. Norgrim had seen the helm before, but thought the rest of the suit lost. Tonight it was not only complete though, but seemed to glow with an ancient power. “The time has come, old friend,” spoke Alaric, barely containing his excitement. Reaching forward, he offered a small scroll, sealed with the crest of the Boldmane Clan. “Rungi has opened the book of grudges and begun the readings. He declares it time to make good on the Ice’s Promise, to reunite our people and rebuild our homes under the mountains. He calls for old allegiances to be honored.” “You know I will answer my King’s call, but will other thanes? Will the other clans? Will the Boldmanes?” Asked Norgrim bitterly. “So many have forgotten the stories of Karak Grim-Wyr. Some hardly believe it ever existed. Fewer still are willing to speak of the old ways in the light of day with all the Umgi and Elgi around. I fear the Karakigrom will find few friends and rush to their doom.” Alaric’s eyes seemed to moisten ever so slightly. It was sad to heard the once proud dwarf lord speak of his kinfolk with such little faith. “Old Proudsong, do you remember the passages I showed you, leading to the underground meeting room where I asked to you to begin gathering your hammerers? Do you remember when I told you that Rungi would give life to his title and lead us to our revenge?” “Yes… But…” “What if I told you that you were not the only one who has been using our passages? Or that you have only seen a fraction of them? The lords and thanes have been meeting. We Boldmanes have guarded the rising of our people from even the Storm God himself. But now is the time. Call on your brothers. Follow the instructions. I will see you at the table of the Revenger, along with the other thanes and clanheads. The time of the Barazi-Wyr is near.” And with that, the longbeard turned and marched away into the darkness. Norgrim’s heart was pounding. Could it be? Could Rungi have successfully re-united the clans under the banners of the Karakigrom? Closing the door, the aged champion smiled as he walked to his fireplace and lifted the great warhammer from the mantle. It was truly a masterpiece. He paused and drew a deep breath before raising the hammer and unleashing his might. With a handful of swings, the shallow fireplace was reduced to a pile of bricks, revealing the hidden chamber behind it. Glimmering in the candlelight after lying dormant for so long was the white armor of the Chosen of Karakigrom. Soon, dawi throughout the underground guild district would trade soot-covered aprons and rough leather gloves for ancient suits of armor adorned with long forgotten runes. United, they would march once again with common purpose… The time of the Barazi-Wyr was indeed near! Lord Norgrim Proudsong, Champion of the Chosen of Karakigrom The Gathering of Legends: The purple- jeweled armor gifted to him by King Dwinbar reflected the flames burning from the sconces that illuminated the tunnels. Dwinbar had seen something special in his young heir, something that lead him to fight the passing years, refusing to die until Rungi was of age lead. On his deathbed, Dwinbar had ordered Norgrim’s armor reforged with the purple stones, marking him champion amongst the clan’s chosen elite. Dwinbar had but one final order for his champion – “Bring The Ice’s revenge upon those who would seek to hold the clan low. Though his chin is covered by mere whiskers, the beardling has the strength of my forefather’s in him. He will need you.” “Lord… We have no throng. The clan is no longer what it was. The last of our kind are becoming elders ourselves… But we shall sing our deathsongs with honor my king.” “NO! You shall sing the songs of REVENGE… *ahck*ghrahck*ahck*… Alaric carries instructions for you. Heed them… I will await you in the halls of our ancestors my brother…” Norgrim blinked his eyes hurriedly as he took in the congregation in the low-ceilinged hall. A tankard was passed his way as nods and grunts were exchanged. Surrounding the long, wooden table were storied dawi, some even legendary. They were the lords, thanes, and champions of the Karakigrom, along with their matches from the brother-clans Boartemper and Glitterblade… Together they comprised all the known duardin who descended from the ancient dwarven alliance at Karak Grim-Wyr. Like any learned dwarf, Norgrim had read the stories. He had heard of the legendary Karak in the World-that-Was. But so many ages had come and gone, the World-that-Was and its people were little more than family mythology. And yet, here they were, each clutching a scroll much like his own. Each escorted and announced upon entering by a member of the Boldmane Clan, architects of the secret passageways running under so many of the duardin guild. A few thanes, lords, and other Karakigrom of reknown... More of their tales to come. Suddenly, at the end of the hall, a dwarf arose from his stool who Norgim had not seen in many years. His beard was fuller. His face more weathered. His eyes burned with a familiar ferocity, though his brow seemed to carry the heaviest of burdens. He placed a thick tome on the table with a resounding thud that silenced the last of the gatherers. Opening it, he began to speak. “Dawi clinging to hope found it in the peaks of Karak Grim-Wyr, or so the legends say. They also say, that we – the Karakigrom – were the protectors of these peoples and the Kings of a great Northern Alliance in this World-That-Was. Generations have been robbed of their lives and their honor while we toiled and failed to rebuild our clans in the cursed Realm of Chamon. It is this honor, which resides at the core of a dawi’s spirit, that the demon hordes seek to take from us. They have cracked open the very mountains seeking to shatter our holds, our homes, and our oaths to ourselves and eachother… But we have survived. We have rebuilt. And in secret we have reforged the great alliance. It is the duty of the Karakigrom to shepherd our people back to the glory that was ours in the tales recorded. I call upon my brothers, and their brothers – Help me to realize the Barazi-Wyr! Help us raise a Karak as the realms have never seen. The Thunder God of the Umgi has declared his war. Are we to continue whispering in the shadows, or would we send a message to match? Again I call to my brothers – Help me to deliver the Ice’s Revenge and begin the age of the Barazi-Wyr!” Eyes glistened with tears and roars burst forth from grimly smiling jaws. But their roars were drowned out by the call of the mountain itself. Striding over the door that had been stomped clear off of its hinges, came a spirit many never fathomed could have ever actually existed. Karugromthi’s snow white fur glistened with the power of the mountains, he seemed to be afire with the blue-glow of the ancestor spirits. The dawi parted to allow the demigod to walk round the table. Reaching Rungi, he stared into the young king’s eyes, then simply lay down next to him. As the second cheer rang out, kegs were tapped and long-stoic legends embraced as they found temporarily relief for their heavy hearts. Norgim took in the scene, warmed by the gallery of legends surrounding him. There would be many a dark day ahead, countless duardin lost… But the Revenger had come, and the Barazi-Wyr was theirs to claim. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Disclaimer: We'll be heading backwards to catch up on old clan history and also following dwarven heroes as they drive forward in their vengeful quest. Please leave feel free to leave feedback along the way. I've definitely been inspired by other hobbyists here and am happy to hear your thoughts. However, a few important notes: Dwarves, duardin, dwarfs... The dawi have not forgotten who they are, they've simply been forced to evolve to survive in the Mortal Realms. I look forward to spinning tales that blend "modern" innovations which stubborn traditions. I'm brand-new to basing and so far all are a work in progress. Advice on a stone & snow theme welcome. I prefer epic-scale everything in my fantasy Dwarves like order. Their enemies break upon their shieldwalls like raindrops against the mountainsides. My dwarves like to fight in regiments!

Hi Everyone, With this blog I'm hoping to join a community of painters, storytellers, hobbyists, and miniwarlords. AOS has captured my imagination after nearly 20 years away from the hobby. Here you'll find the tales of my dwarf clan with pictures of the accompanying models. As competitive gaming isn't what has me hooked, you'll find this blog centered on narratives and creating lore. If you're looking to stick to competitive lists and the finer points of rules, this won't be for you. With the newly leaked pictures of the Stormcast rangers and gryph-cavalry, I feel AOS has driven home the message that if you can imagine it and give it life through models and fluff, it's fair game within the Mortal Realms. Please feel free to leave your thoughts after reading, as this will remain a work in progress. With that out of the way, let me introduce King Rungi Roreksson, Revenger of the Karakigrom Clan. Rungi is a young king, striking out from Azyr with his battered-but-healing clan and their allies to reclaim a foothold in Chamon. Karakigrom means "defiant mountaineer" in the old dwarf language of Khalizad, and just as they tamed an icy peak in the World-That-Was and carved it into a home, the few clan members who awoke in the Realm of Metal had the audacity to attempt the same there. Generation after generation lived and died piecing together tatters of memories and fragments of legend to reconstruct their history. That is, until the forces of chaos returned to destroy everything they had built. Grieving and downtrodden, the Karakigrom took refuge in Azyr. With Sigmar now deciding to wage his war, the time is right for Rungi to wage his as well. He and his blood seek to fulfill the greatest of grudges in their Dammaz-Kron, the Barazi-Wyr. Barazi-Wyr, or Ice's Promise, state's that the Karakigrom will strike back at the forces of Chaos, avenging their ancestors and creating a sanctuary for all duardin to reclaim their honor. Rungi believes this to be the purpose for his existence, and has committed himself single-mindedly to the task. ...More tales to come...