Jump to content

Mohojoe

Members
 View Profile  See their activity

  • Posts

    891

  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won

    3

 Content Type 

Blog Entries posted by Mohojoe

  1. Mohojoe
    Welcome Back!
    After lunch the next pairings were drawn and I faced off against Anthony and his Sylvaneth.
    He brought to the table:
    Alarielle, 3x3 Kurnoth hunters, 2 sets of dryads, 1 set of tree revenants, a Treelord, branchwraith and 3 wyldwoods I believe. 
    The scenario was border war. Anthony started by deploying a wood right in the centre of my side of the table, to which i chose the opposite side to start, we deployed and he chose to go first. He summoned another wood on to the centre on my side and one on the centre right point. Alarielle moved to the centre of the board and he shot off a few ogors. I returned fire by claiming the two centre objectives and my own and laid some serious hurt into allarielle via the thundertusk in the double turns. I made a lot of mistakes with placement in this game with my stone horn (Although winning the game for me) being too far away until turn four to have an effect. I also spent far too long chasing Alarielle around the board trying to kill her when she has so many ways of healing. i must of had her under 5 wounds three times until I gave up and reminded myself to focus on objectives. In the end after a few hard fought fights I took my first and only Major victory of the tournament due to having more points than my opponent. That being said however, we did run out of time and Anthony was kind enough to let me have the major rather than pushing for a draw that he had the chance of getting. Top bloke!
    In general, He was a great guy, with a fantastically painted army and chock full of enthusiasm for our match. He completely embodied the tournament aspect for me and got my vote for most sporting player. I managed to continue chatting with him throughout the rest of the tournament and after, and he was awesome to speak with and a genuine nice guy. 
    Finally after a quick smoke break and chatting tactics with Mike Carrigher @carrigher82 and Luke Smith @Sehryth7 I went in to find myself paired up with Luke for my final match. 
    By this point we were both pretty shattered and the game was a lot more laid back than the others. It was however for me the funniest and best game of the day even though I got the major loss. 
    Luke was playing with a huge Bloodbound (Technically mixed chaos army) Which included ( don't quote me on this):
    Allegiance: Chaos

    Bloodsecrator (120)
    Bloodsecrator (120)
    Bloodstoker (80)
    Mighty Lord Of Khorne (140)
    Sayl The Faithless (160)
    40 x Bloodreavers (240)
    10 x Blood Warriors (200)
    10 x Blood Warriors (200)
    5 x Wrathmongers (180)
    5 x Skullreapers (140)
    There is a large chance that this isn't right so if you are reading this and want to correct me, I will be more than happy to update it
    Anyway, The scenario was Gift from the Heavens, and as always my opponents meteor landed slap bang in the centre of his army!
    Luke was a fantastic opponent and it felt like chatting to a mate I had known for years. The match was so laid back I almost forgot it was at a tournament. My dice rolls throughout the match were hilariously awful and Skarbrand beat the living snot out of everything he came near. With one axe. The other he didn't even need.
    A big highlight for me was when my Gargant managed to kill 5 blood reavers with a single headbutt which had us both cracking up. My thundertusk shot off his general in the first round which shocked him slightly, but it obviously didnt shock Skarbrand as he then proceeded to smash 7 shades of sh** out of the thundertusk and taught him a very painful lesson. I managed to get what I thought was going to be a tie at turn 4 however Sayl pulled off the unbelievable and whisked a unit of blood warriors into a conga line through my troops and to the objective stopping me from scoring and securing Luke the major win when I couldn't delete them quick enough. I am waffling here but this was seriously the best match I have played yet and even losing it was still fun. Top bloke, looking forward to playing him again and only wish I could have voted twice for the most sporting award.
    After the matches we all mingled for a bit before the prizes were given out. 
    Damien managed to come away with the much coveted Wooden Spoon (Spoons for the Spoon throne!) which came with a stormcast shaker and dice. Needless to say he was over the moon and despite losing all his games thoroughly enjoyed himself ( It has to be said his crowning glory was using hand of dust to instantly remove Archaon from the table before he could do anything, much to his opponents horror!).
     
    It was a great introduction to the tournament scene and really sparked a fire in me to attend more. It is something I have always wanted to do but never gotten around to. It has inspired me to improve the quality of my armies, play more and meet more players. I honestly cannot state just how great it is to meet other players in the flesh rather than over message boards. To anyone reading who may be thinking of going but is nervous or unsure, dive in, the people are great and patient and there is so much to gain. 
    Anyway, cheers @Jamie Grinstead for having us, really hope to attend your next event.
    P.s. cheers to staff member Chris for taking the time to teach my missus Magic: the gathering and keeping her occupied while the rest of us nerded out. Great service and I shall be putting my preorders all through the store now, happy to support those who are supporting our local scene.
    Cheers for reading my ramblings, Mohojoe out!
    results in the end were:
     

  2. Mohojoe
    Hello all,
     
    So as many of you know the last three months I have been juggling work to get an army finished for the Titans event, hosted by @Jamie Grinstead at Athena Games in Norwich.
    Yesterday I attended the event, which was my first dip into the waters of tournament play. This was very apt as it was the first Age Of Sigmar event that Athena Games had hosted. I am going to do a brief write up of my thoughts of the event and my impressions as a newcomer to the tournament scene. I wont be writing out entire battle reps, as honestly, my memory isn't the best and I would not like to do any player a disservice. 
    I travelled to the event with my brother, Damien ( A fellow newcomer to tournaments) and we arrived on the dot at 08:30 as the doors opened. We were greeted by Jamie and his friendly and helpful staff who showed us to the game hall located above the store. Originally a working mans club, the venue is surprisingly large and has qualities that resemble the Tardis. Above the hall there is another floor that was not in use on the day but we were assured that they could cope with ample players if the need arose. The hall itself was very spacious with eight tables set up and plenty of room for more and a raised platform at the front where the staff could observe all the games (as well as doing regular spot checks and rules queries). The tables themselves were all of a very high quality with decent terrain being used. The decision was made for all of the terrain to be static on the day without special rules being applied to it, this may have been a downside to some but as a fresh player it was a welcome change as it was one less thing for me to worry about! People filtered in for the next 45 minutes and got chatting and introducing each other. We had 16 competitors in all and everyone was very friendly and enthusiastic, definitely took the edge off the pre tourney nerves.
    At 09:25 Jamie welcomed us all to the event, handed out a free gift ( a very handy acrylic rangefinder made by http://www.counterattackbases.co.uk/ especially for the event) and explained the rules. He then proceeded to draw the first matchups and we all went to our respective tables and got stuck in.
    My first opponent, Arthur Treitl @WillofNagash, brought a death army to the table for our Blood & Glory scenario. He brought Nagash, a Liche priest, 3x20 Skeletons and a summoning pool of 500 points which in our game he used to summon 4 Morghast Harbringers. 
    I was using a Frostlord on stonehorn, Huskard on thundertusk, Tyrant, Moonclan Grot Shaman, 2x 6 Ogors, 1 X3 Ogors, 3 leadblechers and a Gargant.
    Arthur was a great, very patient opponent who took the time to explain what his minis did and so on. By turn 3 he nearly had the major victory by outnumbering me on one objective however my Ogors managed to kill enough of his skeletons so that he was one man short. After a hard fought battle for a tie, we ended the game at turn 5 on a draw. However due to leaving his Nagash on 3 wounds Arthur took the minor win on points. Loved the game, great scenario, great opponent and a fantastic entry into tournament play.
    After game 1 the armies were displayed for the painting competition while people went for lunch. All the armies, (bar mine) were of a fantastic standard and nothing was sub par. The player vote went to @Bishmeister for his fantastic Display/Diorama of " Da Bloo Moon Forest Fungus Boyz " and the staff vote went to @shep for his incredibly detailed Skrye army.
     
    Part 2 to follow













  3. Mohojoe

    Hobby update 21/02/2017

    By Mohojoe,

    Long time no see. 
    Things got crazy and I have neglected this blog. I am currently identifying invertebrate species for the BTO and rushing to try and meet university deadlines and juggling my finances.  This has all lead to me not doing as much here as I wanted to. 
    So what has been happening?
    Earlier in the year I set myself a few resolutions for 2017. Namely these were to attend some events, stick to painting and to become more of a community advocate. Despite the crazy stuff going on in the real world I am actually doing pretty well on this.
    My army is nearing completion to table top standard. I still need to paint a gargant, convert 3 ogors and paint up two riders for my stonehorn/thundertusk.
    My first tournament is looming up, The Titans event at Athena Games hosted by @Jamie Grinstead and Co. ( anyone interested in attending or learning more can find the event information here: 
     
    And I have taken it upon myself to try and create a sort of primer for new and returning players to the hobby. It aims to be a compilation of basic tips and advice for people to refer to, collated from members of the community. It can be found here:
    I have also managed to get several games in, playing a few scenarios to help me get used to my army and geared up for tournament play. I haven't had much variety of opponents but the games I have played have been very insightful. 
    So with that all said, whats next?
    I am looking to start a new project after Titans and to bench my Ogor army. It felt like a rushed army for the tournament and it doesn't have the level of conversions in it that I wanted. So I am looking for a new army. I currently am leaning towards a nurgle/chaos themed army however it seems like very well trodden ground and I would like to try something a bit different with a strong theme and a lot of conversion opportunities. I have been considering something within the Order camp or sticking to destruction however nothing has grabbed my attention yet. Perhaps I should wait for the years new releases? Or I may throw myself into something if an idea takes me. 
    I really love low fantasy dark stuff and #Aos28 has been a huge inspiration for things project wise. What I am really looking for is something that has centrepiece models that i can get stuck in with the green stuff and kitbashing to really highlight my passion within the hobby. If you have any ideas for goods armies, let me know in the comments. 
     
    Till next time
     
     
     
  4. Mohojoe
    Chapter 4 –


     
    The hull of the boat cut effortlessly through the glistening water as it carried Wjolnir further along the coast line. On the horizon, the sun was beginning to rise and was soaking everything it touched with a peach glow. Any other time this would have lifted his spirits and brought back memories of his childhood summers, spent fishing for small trout in the villages river. Today however it just irritated him. It was a painful reminder of a pleasure he would soon have taken from him by his impending death. The only escape from the plague was death and anything else was just delaying the inevitable. That was if the Tornburgh mercenaries didn’t catch up with him first and put him to the sword. Despondency crept in and he considered putting himself out of his misery while he still had control of his destiny. The thought was a brief fleeting one that held no real bearing on him. He was far too much of a coward to make such a bold move. No, he would wait out his fate and spend his final days lamenting his luck and the cruel humour of the gods. No doubt when the time came for him to shuffle off this mortal coil he would cry and soil himself, making sure he had no dignity to take with him to the beyond. An unexpected giggle burst from his throat as the ridiculous image flashed through his mind’s eye. He idly wiped away tears that had been forming in his tired eyes with the back of his rough filthy hand and let a small grin escape from his chapped lips. He gripped the wheel and pulled it hard toward land.

    Along the shore was a coniferous forest that dominated the landscape. The great green expanse was thickly packed and would allow him to travel inland without being seen. He knew of several small hamlets where he could live out his days in relative comfort on the coin he had saved throughout his career in the black market, keeping him in wine and women until he eventually succumbed to the rot in his body. He ran the boat at a relative speed into the shallows and the bottom of the vessel ran aground in the rocks, screeching to a halt. Usually this would have angered Wjolnir however he would never captain the boat again and resented the idea of it serving anyone else after him. A fickle thought perhaps but he had spent so long aboard the ship in his years that it felt like part of his very being, to have anyone else at the wheel would feel like adultery. Opening the thick framed timber door to the cabin he began to collect any belongings he thought he may need. Into a small leather knap sack he carefully packed a thick blanket, dried meats, his ancient tinder kit, a change of clothes and the remainder of his coin. He slid out of his fur jacket, carelessly dropping it in a pile at his feet. Over the top of his hauberk he buttoned up a white travelling shirt and slid a heavy woollen, hooded poncho over his head. The oversized hood covered his face and gave him the appearance of a peasant, a look that he hoped would prevent anyone attempting to relieve him of his belongings. He slung the knapsack over his good shoulder and stooped to pick up a rough iron axe with a hickory handle. The axe head was ground heavier on one side to allow the axe to be used for carving timber, however this would not hinder its use in felling a tree or scaring off would be attackers. With his belongings in check he sighed and made his way off his beloved boat. He vaulted the hull and landed with a splash in waist deep water. The shock of the cold water stole his breath and for a moment he could do nothing but exhale in short, sharp breaths as his body adjusted to the temperature. As his breath returned he started to wade toward the forest. His feet sank gently into the sandy, gravel strewn shore, making the walk harder than he had anticipated. By the time he had reached the boundary of the wood he felt drained. The forest looked far more imposing than it had done from the beach and he was beginning to question if entering it was such a good idea. After a small pause to get his breath back he threw caution to the wind and strode into the woodland as confidently as he could.

    What seemed like hours had passed as he stumbled over fallen trees and forced himself through tightly packed gorse hedges. He had managed to scratch himself on the short thorns above his eyes and the sweat from his brow was stinging as it mingled with the wounds. He paused for a moment to take a pull from his flask and felt a sense of tranquillity wash over him as he soaked in the natural atmosphere. Little light made it through the thick canopy and it lent the forest a supernatural quality. He slid the heavy knapsack from his shoulder to the floor and sat down with his back against a great pine tree. He laid his hand axe by his side and helped himself to a strip of the dried beef from his provisions. Its texture was that of rough leather however he was used to the less than pleasurable rations he had carried with him on his travels. He sat in the dim light chewing the meat and scanning the surrounding area for any movement. A thick layer of moss covered the floor here and he could hear nothing but the evening bird song and the occasional rustle of the forests denizens. He rested his eyes and allowed himself to drift off, planning to continue his journey after a small nap.

    In his dream, he was running from an unknown assailant through a boggy marsh, each step propelling him through the damp darkness toward a clearing ahead. A droning buzzing noise filled his ears overwhelming his senses, blocking out all other noise. It felt as if it was coming from within his mind instead of around him. Swarms of flies encircled him and darted at his face. He wildly flailed his arms trying to swot them away as he ran. The clearing was closer. He was almost there. He broke through the tree line and the swarm of flies dissipated in the light. He turned his head to see his attacker and saw a wave of shadow rushing toward him. Everything the shadow touched within the marsh shrivelled into an empty husk of itself. Trees collapsed under their own weight as rotten timber gave way, animals and birds decomposed in an instant and the very earth became logged with mould and fungal growth. His foot gave way underneath him as he slipped in the clearing and he fell face first into the wet moss. He panicked and tried to raise himself from the wet floor but found mould and filth growing at an alarming rate over his limbs, pinning him to the ground. He looked up in desperation and saw the ground before him erupt, earth and filth showered over him as a gargantuan figure rose from the crater. The figure was comprised of a huge mound of blubbery flesh that rose higher than the highest tree. The sheer bulk of the creature was impossible to comprehend and it moved in a way that didn’t seem physically possible. Its skin was mottled with pus filled boils, scars wounds and open sores that created a mosaic of pain. Its face was comprised of a long grinning mouth beneath dark pitted eyes that pierced into his very soul and showed a flicker of evil sentience that no man should ever see.  Its sour breath reeked of death, decay and faecal matter. The creatures great gut split open and swarms of giggling creatures burst forth dancing and frolicking in the beast’s entrails and bodily fluids, gnawing on his flesh and tearing through his milky yellow fat. Wjolnir retched and spilled the contents of his stomach into the dirt. The great being’s mouth parted revealing worm filled teeth etched with dark lines and stained as brown as earth. It spoke a single word and Wjolnir’s bladder failed him.  
    “SERVE”

    He awoke with a start and reached instinctively for his axe. He was dripping with sweat and his trousers were soaked with bitter smelling urine. The realisation that it had been a dream crept in and he began to relax as the shame of his ‘accident’ settled in. He reached into his knapsack for a change of clothes and cursed under his breath, was there no end to the torment he must endure? As he was rummaging through his belongings he caught site of a figure out of the corner of his eye. He rose sharply and raised his axe at the unknown person. In front of him, sitting cross legged on mound of moss was a tiny humanoid figure, draped in old torn robes giggling to itself. The face was obscured from his view by the things hood however the skin that was exposed was pitted, pale and translucent. The thin frame of the creature was withered and feeble. It altogether seemed sickly and weak however something primal within him screamed to turn and flee. “Explain yourself or I will sever your head from your body!” he shouted at the thing. It began giggling in a gurgling manner and pointed a thin emaciated finger at him, its hood slipping, exposing a sunken warped face that resembled skin stretched too loosely over a large drum. It spoke with a voice that seemed to come from within rather than from the creature’s mouth. “You have been chosen Master Wjolnir, I have come to aid your transcendence on behalf of the father”. The creatures gurgling laughter reached a crescendo of madness and Wjolnir’s blood ran cold.


     

     
  5. Mohojoe
    Chapter 3 – Escape


     
    He trembled with rage and his breath came in short angry bursts.  His shirt had been ripped off in the confrontation and he was now squatted, bare chested, over the corpse of the headless man. The small alley resembled a slaughterhouse, blood had pooled beneath the dead body and bits of brain and skull littered the area. Wjolnir had not avoided the bodily debris and was covered in what was left of the bandit’s face. His fists throbbed and ached from pummelling the bloody mass of flesh underneath him and as the adrenaline left his system he became more aware of that pain. His hands darted to his infected shoulder as he remembered his stab wound, however when he inspected it he could only feel mottled flesh and the tumorous tissue of his affliction. He had not imagined the wound, for blood and milky pus still clotted and dried on his chest. He thought that the infection had spread further up his neck but couldn’t be sure without a mirror. Gods, what had come over him! He had never considered himself a violent man and this, this was far outside of his morale capabilities. A sudden sense of shame overwhelmed him and he scrambled to his feet off the desecrated body. A cloying sense of fear creeped in like a cold breeze and his head swam with the realisation of how fucked he really was. He couldn’t stay in the settlement now, someone would have heard the commotion and the thugs that passed for the town guard were probably already alerted. True, these bandits probably wouldn’t be missed by many but no one wants a killer around while they sleep. Wjolnir bent down and retrieved his coin purse from the first bandit’s fingers. They were colder than fingers ought to be and had already begun to stiffen. He pocketed his coin and fled toward the docks.

    Wjolnir fumbled with the knots that bound his vessel to the mooring post, his usually deft fingers failing him in his panic. His vessel was nothing more than a small sailing boat with a cabin on the rear of its deck. It had no name painted into the hull and no fancy etching or paint work. In the smuggling trade, it had paid to be inconspicuous when travelling and he thanked the gods for that foresight now. Gripping a long wooden pole from within the boat he pushed away from the dock and began to punt the boat towards the flow of the water way. The sail raised easily in the steady evening breeze and began to carry him away from the town. He left the boat to its own devices momentarily while he nipped into the cabin and retrieved a flask of fresh water, a chainmail hauberk and a fur lined coat. He rinsed the filth of the attack from himself with the water and took a long gulp from the flask. The water was cool and made his teeth ache intensely for a moment before dulling away. The chainmail hauberk proved far colder than the water however its metallic rings felt almost soothing against the rotting flesh of his tainted shoulder. Finally, he slipped the coat around his aching body and stepped back on to the deck and the glistening moonlight. The boat had veered toward the bank slightly so he grabbed the wheel behind the mast and corrected its course. From the deck of the boat he could see torchlight at the docks behind him. Judging by the number of torches he could see it appeared that this was not the early rising fishermen attending their vessels. Pulling a tightly would cord above him he dropped the main sail fully and aimed for the ocean. He had no location in mind, however anywhere but here sounded fine to him at that moment.

  6. Mohojoe

    Chapter 3 - Escape

    By Mohojoe,

    Chapter 3 – Escape
     
     
     
    He trembled with rage and his breath came in short angry bursts.  His shirt had been ripped off in the confrontation and he was now squatted, bare chested, over the corpse of the headless man. The small alley resembled a slaughterhouse, blood had pooled beneath the dead body and bits of brain and skull littered the area. Wjolnir had not avoided the bodily debris and was covered in what was left of the bandit’s face. His fists throbbed and ached from pummelling the bloody mass of flesh underneath him and as the adrenaline left his system he became more aware of that pain. His hands darted to his infected shoulder as he remembered his stab wound, however when he inspected it he could only feel mottled flesh and the tumorous tissue of his affliction. He had not imagined the wound, for blood and milky pus still clotted and dried on his chest. He thought that the infection had spread further up his neck but couldn’t be sure without a mirror. Gods, what had come over him! He had never considered himself a violent man and this, this was far outside of his morale capabilities. A sudden sense of shame overwhelmed him and he scrambled to his feet off the desecrated body. A cloying sense of fear creeped in like a cold breeze and his head swam with the realisation of how fucked he really was. He couldn’t stay in the settlement now, someone would have heard the commotion and the thugs that passed for the town guard were probably already alerted. True, these bandits probably wouldn’t be missed by many but no one wants a killer around while they sleep. Wjolnir bent down and retrieved his coin purse from the first bandit’s fingers. They were colder than fingers ought to be and had already begun to stiffen. He pocketed his coin and fled toward the docks.
     
    Wjolnir fumbled with the knots that bound his vessel to the mooring post, his usually deft fingers failing him in his panic. His vessel was nothing more than a small sailing boat with a cabin on the rear of its deck. It had no name painted into the hull and no fancy etching or paint work. In the smuggling trade, it had paid to be inconspicuous when travelling and he thanked the gods for that foresight now. Gripping a long wooden pole from within the boat he pushed away from the dock and began to punt the boat towards the flow of the water way. The sail raised easily in the steady evening breeze and began to carry him away from the town. He left the boat to its own devices momentarily while he nipped into the cabin and retrieved a flask of fresh water, a chainmail hauberk and a fur lined coat. He rinsed the filth of the attack from himself with the water and took a long gulp from the flask. The water was cool and made his teeth ache intensely for a moment before dulling away. The chainmail hauberk proved far colder than the water however its metallic rings felt almost soothing against the rotting flesh of his tainted shoulder. Finally, he slipped the coat around his aching body and stepped back on to the deck and the glistening moonlight. The boat had veered toward the bank slightly so he grabbed the wheel behind the mast and corrected its course. From the deck of the boat he could see torchlight at the docks behind him. Judging by the number of torches he could see it appeared that this was not the early rising fishermen attending their vessels. Pulling a tightly wrapped cord above him, he dropped the main sail fully and aimed for the ocean. He had no location in mind, however anywhere but here sounded fine to him at that moment.
     
  7. Mohojoe

    Chapter 2 - Headache

    By Mohojoe,

    Chapter 2 – Headache
     
    The liquor tasted like roasted almonds and burned as it slid down his throat. Wjolnir had barely touched the bottle in front of him however he had already begun perspiring and his head was swimming. He was seated in a dark corner of a dive bar called ‘The Boars Nipple’ minding his own business and considering his options. Nothing brings clarity to a man’s thoughts like his impending death.
    He swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler while taking a strong drag of smoke from his pipe, exhaling billowy clouds from his nostrils. On one hand, he could stay here and drink away the coin he had saved over the years and on the other he could leave to ‘see the sites’ as he had often heard it called. In truth, he knew that he only had one option. As soon as people caught wind of his affliction he would be cast out of the settlement before he even had a chance to collect his belongings. That of course was if he wasn’t burned alive to cleanse his diseased body first. He shuddered at the thought and drained the spirit in his glass. He rose from his seat and dropped four coins on the bar, nodded to the owner and left. The streets were mostly abandoned this time of night, only the most committed of prostitutes were still working. Rain beat down against his face as he staggered down a deserted side street that lead to the docks. Behind him he heard footsteps ringing out on the cobble stones. As he turned to fuel his curiosity he was caught with a savage blow from a sword pommel across his face.
    Pain shot through Wjolnir’s temples as he hit the filthy floor. Cold hands pinned him down and his cloak was ripped away from him. He forced open his heavy eyelids and saw two grizzly faces bearing down upon him. Struggling he tried to force himself up and felt the blade of a sword pressed against his chest. “Don’t facking move, or I’ll cut yer bollocks off” grunted one of the thieves through yellow teeth. The other bandit grabbed for his coin pouch and he instinctively grabbed at the mans wrist. Pain shot through his shoulder as the first bandit thrust the short sword into his flesh. Wjolnir screamed in pain as the cold metal pierced his skin and muscle. The smell of rotting flesh erupted from the wound and a loud hissing sound could be heard. “What the ******!” yelled the bandit as he pulled his sword loose and stared at the bubbling blade. Wjolnir took full advantage of the bandits distraction and grabbed his wrist and forced the decaying  blade through his partners neck. His throat erupted in a scarlet flare as he choked on his own bile, while the other man was left still holding on to the swords handle. He stumbled back in shock  and tripped over his own feet. In a flash Wjolnir was on top of him, grabbing handfuls of his hair and slamming his head on the flagstones. Bone cracked with each impact as the base of his skull was scattered across the floor. The bandit feebly clawed at Wjolnir for mere moments before his hands laid twitching in the congealing blood around him as his head was smashed again and again until Wjolnir’s fists were smashing wet pulp and bone fragments into stone
  8. Mohojoe
    Tornburgh is a border town. A lawless settlement where money can buy you happiness or a dagger to the kidneys, depending on who you flash your coin at. It straddles the coastal edge of the swamp kingdom of Drang, yet owes no allegiance to the citadel. Its streets are full of merchants flogging smuggled goods, Slaves being auctioned to the highest bidder, unrecognisable food stalls and ****** houses offering companionship for coin. None of this interested Wjolnir however as he fought his way through the midday crowds toward his destination. He pulled his hooded cloak tight to his chest as he darted into one of the many winding side alleys and made his way towards an unassuming timber building. He banged a fist against the door four times before the viewing panel was slid aside by a portly figure. "Your alive then! Who would have thought you would last this long" The large man cackled. The sound of sliding bolts was heard and the door was opened inwards and Wjolnir was beckoned in. The room he entered had a tiled floor and was lined with shelves filled with countless bottles and flasks. The most impressive thing however was the assortment of strange glass tubes and vials all connected by pipes and arranged on the rooms desk. Inside these tubes a substance was bubbling away and acrid smoke could be smelt. "This way" motioned the portly gentleman as he directed Wjolnir to a dimly lit room with a fireplace and a wooden bed. "Its spreading James, it wont stop bloody spreading" Wjolnir spat as the door was closed behind him. " Well best you take off your cloak and show me then so I know what we are dealing with." Wjolnir nodded and began to remove his cloak and shirt. Beneath his travelling shirt stained bandages were wrapped around his chest and left shoulder. As he unravelled the bandages the putrid smell of decay permeated the air, a forewarning of his supernatural ailment. The large man wrinkled his nose in disgust and clamped a perfumed rag to his mouth as he watched. Beneath the filthy bandages Wjolnir's skin was purple, mottled and strewn with boils and open sores. The wounds weeped thick pus and distorted with the rise and fall of his chest. "Gods be damned Wally, you should be 6 feet under by now!" Cursed the alchemist. " I feel like I already am" Wjolnir replied as the man began to investigate his wounds all while inhaling deeply through his sweet smelling handkerchief. " Can we quit the freak show and get to business already" Wjolnir snapped. " I don't think you understand, Salves wont help you, and magic wont help you. Your path is predetermined. The fact that you have lasted this long is the blessings of Sigmar but I fear that your luck can only last so long before you fall to this. No one survives Nurgle's Rot and even your coin cant buy you out of this one Wally. In simple terms, you are a dead man walking."
     
    Wjolnir left the alchemists with little of the enthusiasm he had arrived with. He pulled his hood up over his balding head and headed for the nearest tavern. If his destiny was to succumb to disease he would at least get blind drunk before hand...
  9. Mohojoe
    Chapter 2 – Headache
     
    The liquor tasted like roasted almonds and burned as it slid down his throat. Wjolnir had barely touched the bottle in front of him however he had already begun perspiring and his head was swimming. He was seated in a dark corner of a dive bar called ‘The Boars Nipple’ minding his own business and considering his options. Nothing brings clarity to a man’s thoughts like his impending death.
    He swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler while taking a strong drag of smoke from his pipe, exhaling billowy clouds from his nostrils. On one hand, he could stay here and drink away the coin he had saved over the years and on the other he could leave to ‘see the sites’ as he had often heard it called. In truth, he knew that he only had one option. As soon as people caught wind of his affliction he would be cast out of the settlement before he even had a chance to collect his belongings. That of course was if he wasn’t burned alive to cleanse his diseased body first. He shuddered at the thought and drained the spirit in his glass. He rose from his seat and dropped four coins on the bar, nodded to the owner and left. The streets were mostly abandoned this time of night, only the most committed of prostitutes were still working. Rain beat down against his face as he staggered down a deserted side street that lead to the docks. Behind him he heard footsteps ringing out on the cobble stones. As he turned to fuel his curiosity he was caught with a savage blow from a sword pommel across his face.
    Pain shot through Wjolnir’s temples as he hit the filthy floor. Cold hands pinned him down and his cloak was ripped away from him. He forced open his heavy eyelids and saw two grizzly faces bearing down upon him. Struggling he tried to force himself up and felt the blade of a sword pressed against his chest. “Don’t facking move, or I’ll cut yer bollocks off” grunted one of the thieves through yellow teeth. The other bandit grabbed for his coin pouch and he instinctively grabbed at the mans wrist. Pain shot through his shoulder as the first bandit thrust the short sword into his flesh. Wjolnir screamed in pain as the cold metal pierced his skin and muscle. The smell of rotting flesh erupted from the wound and a loud hissing sound could be heard. “What the ******!” yelled the bandit as he pulled his sword loose and stared at the bubbling blade. Wjolnir took full advantage of the bandits distraction and grabbed his wrist and forced the decaying  blade through his partners neck. His throat erupted in a scarlet flare as he choked on his own bile, while the other man was left still holding on to the swords handle. He stumbled back in shock  and tripped over his own feet. In a flash Wjolnir was on top of him, grabbing handfuls of his hair and slamming his head on the flagstones. Bone cracked with each impact as the base of his skull was scattered across the floor. The bandit feebly clawed at Wjolnir for mere moments before his hands laid twitching in the congealing blood around him as his head was smashed again and again until Wjolnir’s fists were smashing wet pulp and bone fragments into stone
  10. Mohojoe
    Tornburgh is a border town. A lawless settlement where money can buy you happiness or a dagger to the kidneys, depending on who you flash your coin at. It straddles the coastal edge of the swamp kingdom of Drang, yet owes no allegiance to the citadel. Its streets are full of merchants flogging smuggled goods, Slaves being auctioned to the highest bidder, unrecognisable food stalls and ****** houses offering companionship for coin. None of this interested Wjolnir however as he fought his way through the midday crowds toward his destination. He pulled his hooded cloak tight to his chest as he darted into one of the many winding side alleys and made his way towards an unassuming timber building. He banged a fist against the door four times before the viewing panel was slid aside by a portly figure. "Your alive then! Who would have thought you would last this long" The large man cackled. The sound of sliding bolts was heard and the door was opened inwards and Wjolnir was beckoned in. The room he entered had a tiled floor and was lined with shelves filled with countless bottles and flasks. The most impressive thing however was the assortment of strange glass tubes and vials all connected by pipes and arranged on the rooms desk. Inside these tubes a substance was bubbling away and acrid smoke could be smelt. "This way" motioned the portly gentleman as he directed Wjolnir to a dimly lit room with a fireplace and a wooden bed. "Its spreading James, it wont stop bloody spreading" Wjolnir spat as the door was closed behind him. " Well best you take off your cloak and show me then so I know what we are dealing with." Wjolnir nodded and began to remove his cloak and shirt. Beneath his travelling shirt stained bandages were wrapped around his chest and left shoulder. As he unravelled the bandages the putrid smell of decay permeated the air, a forewarning of his supernatural ailment. The large man wrinkled his nose in disgust and clamped a perfumed rag to his mouth as he watched. Beneath the filthy bandages Wjolnir's skin was purple, mottled and strewn with boils and open sores. The wounds weeped thick pus and distorted with the rise and fall of his chest. "Gods be damned Wally, you should be 6 feet under by now!" Cursed the alchemist. " I feel like I already am" Wjolnir replied as the man began to investigate his wounds all while inhaling deeply through his sweet smelling handkerchief. " Can we quit the freak show and get to business already" Wjolnir snapped. " I don't think you understand, Salves wont help you, and magic wont help you. Your path is predetermined. The fact that you have lasted this long is the blessings of Sigmar but I fear that your luck can only last so long before you fall to this. No one survives Nurgle's Rot and even your coin cant buy you out of this one Wally. In simple terms, you are a dead man walking."
     
    Wjolnir left the alchemists with little of the enthusiasm he had arrived with. He pulled his hood up over his balding head and headed for the nearest tavern. If his destiny was to succumb to disease he would at least get blind drunk before hand...
  11. Mohojoe

    AoS28 Wjolnir's Retinue

    By Mohojoe,

    Hey guys, 
    Recently heard about AoS28 which has completely grabbed me by the narratives. I am gonna try my hand at a small warband that I have been wanting to do for years inspired by Berserk, Junji Ito novels, Lord of the Rings and plenty of stories about heroes who fall from grace. 
    The story behind the warband will be about a hero who has drawn the eye of Papa Nurgle and is a reluctant minion of chaos, trying to evade nurgles messengers while battling the corrupting pestilence that has been bestowed upon him by his unwanted lord. The champion of the warband is not a follower of chaos and has no ties to the dark powers. He is nothing more than a mortal with the usual mortal selfishness, greed and desires. 
    The battle reports I post will hopefully mark the fall of the character and his descent into madness that drives him into accepting Nurgles embrace and drags his retinue with him.
     
    This is all WIP and may change, especially when I get a chance to properly go through the Hinterlands rules.
     
    Characters:
     
    Wjolnir's Retinue
     
    Leader:
    Wjolnir | A former smuggler cursed with a growing plague that has covered the left hand side of his face and body with angry sores and boils, a tell tale sign of nurgles involvement. He is harrased by nurglings, plagubearers, visions and hallucination, all promising him reprieve if he submits to the Grandfather of disease. 
    Wizard:
    Unnamed Seer  | An old crone who has taken to following Wjolnir, recognising his true potential and power. While never truly travelling with the retinue the seer is always nearby watching and aiding from the shadows with the grace of a puppeteer pulling strings. Wjolnir regards her as an ally of convenience.
    Elite:
    Shan Rackham | Originally Shan was a hired bodyguard to Wjolnir who served as the heavy muscle when business deals went wrong. But people should not be fooled by his immense size, Wjolnir quickly recognised that Shan possessed a keen mind as well as martial prowess and he quickly became a trusted confidant and friend. Shan accompanies the retinue in service of its captain, serving as his second in command and most talented fighter.
    Warriors:
    Originally leading a vast band of mercenaries, most of Wjolnirs followers have left for more lucrative business propositions or fled seeing their captain cursed by the gods. The remaining stragglers are slaves and  those who see Wjolnir's affliction as a blessing and see him as a herald in human form. 
     
     
    Wjolnir is a cursed individual destined to be challenged by those seeking nurgles favour, religious zealots and witch hunters. He is a veteran of many brawls and handy with a vast array of weapons but this can take its toll on even the hardiest of individuals and he is no exception. His greatest enemy is himself as he struggles with his inner demons and his faltering body. He struggles to stay positive in the face of such adversity as he knows should he falter he will surely become a pawn of the ruinous powers. 
     
     
     
  12. Mohojoe
    Olaf pulled his cloak tightly to his breast as the wind fought to wrestle it from his grasp. His seat upon the wagon afforded him little in the way of protection from the rain and he cursed his ceremonious position for the second time that day. He had never been particularly devout, apart from in a maidens bed chambers, and had found himself thrust into his position after fathering a child with a peasant woman unworthy of his status. His noble family had removed him from the families fortune and had offered him the choice of banishment or servitude. He had chosen servitude, assuming that he would be given a title and position worthy of his families name, only to find himself a transporter of the punished. Each month he would lead a convoy of carriages containing prisoners of the realm and captured enemies to the very outskirts of the kingdom. He found little solace in leading the small contingent of guards that accompanied him on his journeys and often found himself the butt of their crude jokes. As if his fall from grace was not embarrassing enough he now had to endure the jeers and barbed tongues of those beneath him. 
    He signalled to the convoy to slow their pace as the woodland opened up around them and he spotted the familiar statues. The statues depicted shrouded figures in various states of grief and mourning. No matter how often he saw them, they always sent a cold shiver through him that even the weather couldn't rival. The horses came to a halt and he dismounted from the carriage. Leaning against the cart to shelter from the rain he withdrew a pipe from his cloak and lit it from the carts lantern. Through deep puffs of the acrid smoke he watched as the guards emptied the carriages of prisoners and formed them into lines linked by chains from their wrists and feet. Even with such restraints and trained bullies on his side, he still never felt truly safe around these accursed people and found the pipe was as much of a distraction from their murderous gazes as it was his small weakness he allowed himself.  Edmund shouted the prisoners into silence which was Olaf's cue to speak. He broke the silence by slowly and deliberately tapping the remains of his pipe out against the cart, the embers floated eerily in the cold wind before vanishing as abruptly as they had appeared. Olaf pocketed the pipe, cleared his throat and began to recite the words he had spoken so often. 
    "You come to this place as sinners. Criminals who have opposed the rules of your baron and your church, War criminals who have conspired to do the realm harm and as devils who have cavorted with the ruinous powers. You have been sentenced to banishment into the undying crypts where you will face challenges to cleanse your souls. Should you rise to these challenges and survive your journey you will emerge as free men, innocent and reborn. Should you falter you will face damnation. May the god of light bless your journey and may your hearts be lifted of your dark afflictions." 
    Olaf bowed his head and watched as the guards formed a ring around the prisoners forcing them towards the catacombs maw. two men wrenched open the heavy stone doors leading to the crypt and the prisoners were herded into its dark mouth. The shackles which bound them were removed one at a time and the criminals were jostled further down the corridor. Once they had all been unchained the guards retreated as one, weapons drawn. The stone doors were sealed behind them and the head of the guard blew upon a horn, which released a droning blare. The horns cry was echoed by guttural roars that came from beneath the ground that made Olaf grit his teeth and wince. He pulled his cloak tightly around his bulky form and signalled to his retinue to leave. The prisoners were at the mercy of the gods now. 
  13. Mohojoe

    January round up

    By Mohojoe,

    Welcome back folks,
    The first month of 2017 is coming to a close and boy has it been a productive one.
    For those of you just visiting, my first tournament is in early march so I am racing to have an army done in time. My new years hobby resolution was to commit myself more to the hobby and go from enthusiast to active contributor to my community, through the forums and by attending events. I would like to think I have been as helpful on the forums as possible, though championing the hobby in my area could still use some work. 
    As for actual hobby, this month I have achieved: 
    I have now built the entirety of my Ogor/destruction army I have converted a Gargant (This has admittedly been put on the backburner while i work out the kinks) I converted an Arachnarok spider to a stonehorn model using spare parts left over from my thundertusk kit I painted 2 units of ogres, 2 tyrants, My StoneSpider, a unit of leadbelchers and a metal Gargant kit.  I played 5 games, of which I won 1... ( These did however help hugely in my understanding of tactics and competitive play) Convinced another player to get involved ( working on a second) Wrote several bits of fluff and backstory for my army Managed a few trades for bits and bobs on the forums I also have managed to restructure my hobby area. This may not sound like a huge thing to many of you, however I share my extremely small living space with my other half.  This means the space I do have for the hobby is limited and requires me to be pretty ingenious with storage and so on. I have managed to clear my working area and am trying to keep it that way. Its amazing how a cleaner work area allows for easier work.
     
    Anyway, thats all from me for January, for February I am hoping to keep up the productivity and hopefully get my entire army to tabletop standard. Due to being very skint this month its unlikely that I will see any model additions so it is time to hunker down with what I do have, play as many practice games as I can and get my head into tournament mode.
     
    Thanks for reading,
    MohoJoe 
     
  14. Mohojoe
    The smell of sulphur was invasive to Sigmund's nostrils as he took up a defensive stance behind the line of leadbelchers. The scratch built cannons they wielded, while obnoxious to the senses, made short work of the undead hordes marching against them. The scraps of iron and brick they spewed into the enemy hordes sent bone and armour flying with each destructive volley. His ears were ringing as the cannons were raised vertical. He and his brother bulls pushed through the retreating gunmen, creating a defensive line as the great iron tubes were packed again with gunpowder and refuse. A wave of ghoulish creatures rushed toward the bull formation. The line shuddered under the weight of the impact yet stood firm. Sigmund repelled a bone club from a sickly green assailant with his broad blade before plunging his iron gauntlet into the creatures face. He let a small grin slip as he felt the skull of the thing shatter under his mighty blow and his assailant crumble at his feet. The victory was short lived however as a cavalry lance ran through his shoulder and he was battered aside by a skeletal mount. His head smacked on the cobblestone floor sending pain shooting through his senses, like a spark racing through a fuse. He cast aside his unwieldy sword and scrabbled for the shaft of the discarded spear, only to feel it grind against his collarbone as the shaft was splintered under the foot of a clumsy Ogor. He felt a guttural roar break from his own mouth as the pain assaulted his senses. His brothers ranks were retreating back down the corridor as the cannons continued to blast, supercharging the air above him and forcing him to hug the cold flagstones. He could not understand their cowardice, Ogors feared nothing! With a grim resolve he shifted his weight and attempted to crawl towards his  retreating clan brushing aside carcasses and skeletal remains as he moved. A clammy hand coiled around his ankle and wrenched him back almost pulling his leg from its socket. Instinctively Sigmund rammed his spiked gauntlet into the floor to hold his position, a fruitless effort as it found no purchase between the gore and bone that littered the ground. He lashed out at his assailants grip and was rewarded with a jaw shattering blow from a club for his efforts. He hacked and coughed scarlet phlegm as he was raised above the ranks of undead by his captor. Out of a swollen eye he caught an image of the foe and would have screamed had it not been for his devastated jaw. The creature holding him was a gigantic fleshless creature, framed with a set of colossal wings and a gaping maw. His bowels loosened as the creature let out a primal screech and smashed him against the catacomb wall. He understood now what had sent his brothers fleeing however the knowledge gave him no satisfaction as his limp body was thrown aside. He landed with a sickly wet thump behind the creature, sending its own minions flying with his impact. He struggled to breathe as his mouth filled with bile and bitter metallic tasting fluid yet could not eject the liquid nor swallow. For the first time in his life he was truly afraid. His eyelids fluttered as he gargled his last breath and magenta bubbles formed around his quivering mouth. His gods had denied him.
     
    Sigmund's body lay there long after the battle had ended. Forces had retreated and days had past. Buried under corpses of others his body had stiffened and begun to decompose. His skin no longer boasted the pale authenticity his clan was known for and instead was tattooed with a mosaic of welts, bruises and dark bloodied smears. The silence of his squalid resting place was denied as a deep chanting was heard, slowly at first but increasing in volume and fervour.  The sound was invasive and seemed to not echo through the chamber but to be swallowed by everything it touched. 
    Sigmund's corpse twitched. 
    his eyes fluttered.
    The shattered bones within his defeated body began to realign.
    With an unnatural shudder, his back arched and and unknown force urged him back to his feet, his impossible stance righting itself as his limbs reset themselves back to a serviceable position. He reached for a battleaxe dropped by a fallen foe and became aware that he was not alone. All around him bodies were rising in service of some unknown entity. He felt his eyes lock on the tunnel that lead toward the Ogor encampment and his feet begin to carry him in its direction. His soul screamed out as he sensed the atrocities that were being commanded of him. He begged, pleaded, cursed and threatened but to no avail. This body was no longer his, and the Lord of Death would not be denied.  
  15. Mohojoe

    Green stuff fiddlin'

    By Mohojoe,

    I shall warn you all now, Bad quality photos ahead. A new camera is definitely on my christmas list.
    Anyway,
    Today after lurking around the forum while ignoring the huge amount of essays I have piled up, I bumped into @HobbyHammer thread about the realmhoppers campaign and it looks amazingly fun. With that in mind I decided on starting a little destruction side project with some dodgy models I bought for dirt cheap. 
    It will just be a little 1k Gutbusters warband ( I am enjoying having several small destruction armies that I can amass for a larger mixed alliance army) with, hopefully, lots of conversions to act as a catalyst for me learning new hobby stuff. 
    I decided on a bit of a gladiator look for the models to give them an old school model look, back when they had an almost chaos vibe going on. 
    Both models have iron fists and a shoulder pad, to simulate using one side of the body to block attacks and parry while countering with the free hand. I have made an effort to try and sculpt new hair for them. One has a mohican pony tail ( a bit like a certain Warhammer TV fella we all know and love) and the other has long wild hair, hopefully challenging me in a few ways.
    The weapons I will be remodelling to reflect their new aesthetic. I have just finished painting a tyrant for them who will tie in quite well with the look with minimal conversions and i have a unit of Leadbelchers on my bench who I am trying to work out how to fit into this look.
    I think for the next guys i scratch build I would quite like to grab a mix of ironguts and mournfang riders heads, as I love the armoured look and then I am going to try and build a fully armoured squad to act as my elite units.  I then think I will make a simple sanded base for them and create a few arena-ish scenery pieces to really tie the look together. 
    Cheers for reading, Catch you all soon. 
     


  16. Mohojoe
    The square channels cut through the rough rock in the ceiling allowed four pillars of diminishing light into the dank antechamber. It was a bitter reminder of the daunting task that lay ahead after the sun had set and the blessed connection to the world above had vanished. The only luminescence would be from the crackling braziers that lined the flagstones and the occasional glint of an overly curious glow worm. 
    Amidst the discarded iron weapons and splintered bone sat the hulking form of Bruma Talltongue, chief tyrant of the Gravewarden clan and tamer of Gargants. His pale skin appeared almost translucent under the splinters of light which gave him an ethereal quality, more at home across the belly of a fish than a battle seasoned Ogor bull. He bore a neatly clipped beard and a shaven pate above a set of brooding eyes arched by thick eyebrows. A thick cowl of fur draped around his shoulders was one of the few reminders that he had not always dwelt in catacombs and had in fact hailed from the mountains that cracked the sky.  His thickset bulk was framed by a purple tabard and a leather cape. His deft hands busied themselves with the mundane, yet important task of honing an edge on his gnarled broadsword, pausing only to sip from his tankard. They made quick work of working the whetstone over the nicks and worn edges caused from the work of the previous evening. Several hours passed as he worked, he efficiently tested the rest of his equipment, cleaning the barrel of his blunderbuss of carbon powder and oiling the perishing leather straps of his armour in preparation for the coming toil. 
    A trumpet call echoed across the stone tiles, a shrill warning that cut through Bruma's senses, warning him that he needed to prepare himself for the task at hand. He began the arduous process of climbing into the ice cold touch of his chainmail hauberk before strapping his hefty shoulder pad over his right arm. The thick metal plate he wore upon his shoulder bore the icon of his two faced god and had deflected more blows than he dared count. A rumbling began echoing through the halls. It started in the stone, working its way through his feet and reverberating deep within his bones until it shook his very essence. It was a feeling unlike any other and one that he had never grown accustomed to. Deep within the flesh of the earth an abyssal terror had awoken, as it had every night, to claim the souls of the damned and set them to work. Bruma rose from his makeshift throne and tested the weight of his weapon, assuring himself in his duties. He stretched his mighty limbs as he swung the blade, feeling each sinew bear the weight of the pig iron weapon. Confident in its quality he nodded to himself and drained the remaining mead from his tankard. As he rested the cup on the cold floor the bones around him began to reverberate with ethereal energy. His grip tightened around the leather handle of his sword and gritted his teeth as he prepared for another night of servitude...
  17. Mohojoe
    My tickets for the TITANS tournament at Athena Games are bought and paid for so its time to get serious and organise myself. I have 2 months to get my force organised, painted, based and get to grips with them.
    The list I have settled on for the event is as follows:
    Leaders
    Tyrant (160)
    - Massive Ogre Club
    Butcher (140)

    Units
    Leadbelchers x 6 (320)
    - Gutbusters Battleline
    Leadbelchers x 3 (160)
    - Gutbusters Battleline
    Ogors x 6 (240)
    - Battleline
    Ogors x 6 (240)
    - Battleline
    Ogors x 6 (240)
    - Battleline
    Ogors x 3 (120)
    - Battleline

    Behemoths
    Aleguzzler Gargant (180)
    Aleguzzler Gargant (180)

    Total: 1980/2000
    The list  is not the most competitive, I could easily drop most of it and just pile it up with stonehorns/thundertusks with moonclan grot battle lines or savage orruks. But what would be the point? It is my first tournament, I want to play an army I like aesthetically, make friends with people local to me and learn the competitive side of the game in a consistent environment. If I am winning matches due to just playing broken units I wont learn and I might convince myself I know what I am doing!
    Anyway,
     
    I have been working on the fluff behind the army, as I love creating backstories and themes to tie my armies together.
     
    Grave Wardens
    Guardians of the Southern Undead Asylum

     
     
    The land of Creighton is a cursed kingdom, where those who are struck down are fated to rise again, forever in the service of a dark entity. The free people of Creighton struggled for decades against the undead incursion, barely holding them back from the civilised as each fallen warrior rose again as an enemy of the crown. After centuries of fighting tooth and nail to protect the innocent from the slow and inevitable march of death, a final measure was decided upon. An asylum was built outside the city boundaries where all of the dead and dying were locked away to prevent their eventual attack after reanimation. 
    As the number of imprisoned undead rose it became harder and harder to maintain the asylum. Each guard that fell joined the ranks of the undead until the decision was made that mercenaries should be hired instead of men from the homeland dying in vain. This is when the tribe of the Gargant Twinfolk were hired.
    For a weight of meat every month the Gargants and their Ogor underlings dwelt beneath the ground amongst the crypts of the asylum, battling against the undead hordes and preventing their escape. The tribe believes that the necrotic hordes are the final challenge they face on behalf of their gods. Only once the corruption has been laid low will the Gargant brothers they follow ascend to godhood as the incarnations of Gork and Mork and they will all be allowed sight unto the great hunting plains, where they may revel in feast and conflict. 
    Years have passed since the events that caused for the ogre horde to be employed and the Asylum has fallen into extreme disrepair. The hordes beneath the earth have become so numerous that the Tribe have been pushed back closer to the surface, while deeper underground the dead have been mindlessly clawing at the dirt, blindly preparing to unleash the kingdoms darkest secret...
     
     
    I am Saving the rest for post updates as I update my progress here and a painting log I will be doing now I have a new phone for photos.
    I have decided to go against the grey skin I was doing in favour or a more natural skin colour, I think I need to focus on the basics before I go mad! I am painting all the cloth and clothing a rich purple, a colour that has represented death in the past. The basing I will be doing will be using celtic runes and crypt like themes to tie into my overall theme. 
    I will also be trying my hand to heavily convert a lot of my figures to really make my force look unique and stand out.
    The paints for these are all due to be delivered tomorrow so with any luck I should be able to start posting some progress photos.
    The army ties in very nicely with my borthers ( Also attending the tournament) who is running undead, so we may even have some crossover pieces. 
     
    Thank you for taking the time to read all of this if you got this far
    See you all soon.
     
  18. Mohojoe

    Less Cheese - More Freeze

    By Mohojoe,

    After lots of thought I decided to theory craft a less cheese-tastic list for the upcoming tournament for a number of reasons:
    As my first tournament and having not met other players I want to make friends more than I want to win. I don't want to win matches due to a broken army rather than because I played well I want to dedicate my army to a sub faction rather than a mixed destruction army for my first tournament  With that in mind I have crafted a potential list and would appreciate feedback or criticism.
     
    Leaders
    Frostlord on Stonehorn (460)
    Huskard on Thundertusk (340)
    Icebrow Hunter (160)

    Units
    Mournfang Pack x 6 (600)
    (Potentially split into 3x2 or a pack of 2 and 4)
    Frost Sabres x 6 (180)
    Frost Sabres x 6 (180)
    (Potentially in a big squad of 12 instead as a teleporting tar pit)

    Battalions
    Skal (60)
    (Allows my frost sabres to deep strike with my Icebrow hunter)

    Total: 1980/2000
    Ok so the idea being I charge in the frostlord to do what they do best, the huskard sits behind two mournfang placed sideways to block charges and the other 4 play offensively.
    The icebrow hunter and 12 sabres deepstrike into objectives, getting all tar pitty while the thundertusk blasts from afar. 
     
    I am also crafting one similar using yetis at the moment and will post that when I have a chance to go over it more
     
    Cheers

     
  19. Mohojoe
    Greetings you 'orrible bunch of gitz,
     
    So after much deliberation and plenty of advice from the community I have settled on a fun looking list for my first tournament.
    (All thanks to @Gaz Taylor for this list)
     
    Leaders
    Frostlord on Stonehorn (460)
    - General
    - Trait: Bellowing Tyrant
    Frostlord on Stonehorn (460)
    - Artefact: Battle Brew
    Huskard on Thundertusk (340)
    - Artefact: Talisman of Protection

    Units
    Ogors x 3 (120)
    Ogors x 6 (240)
    Ogors x 9 (360)

    Total: 1980/2000
     
    I have collected a few small ogre armies in my years and love painting them and the ease you can convert them, so this was by no means a hard sell. I was also really worried about playing a high model count army (moonclan grotz that I was aiming for) as I don't play as many games as I would like and I am a bit worried about being too slow on the day and ruining someone else's experience. Plus on top of that I am studying for a degree and need this army done by March, to some that may be plenty of time but for me its almost a rush! 
    Anyway, feeling really excited to get going and get the army bought. I will be buying it in the start of January so I stay social with the family ( And my own personal She-Demon AKA the missus) and complete some essays on time. I have bought a unit of second hand ogors, lead belchers and an old metal tyrant to practice the paint job on. I am still thinking grey skin and blue armour. I love the background of the Beastclaw Raiders however I hate things looking the same so I need to figure out some unique looks for my army.  I am currently considering using a frost 'leeching' effect from where the models make contact with the bases, as if the frost emanates from them or continuing with my crystal theme, however it isn't super fluffy.  Ideas would be appreciated!
    Also on the 23rd I have my second driving test, with any luck I may pass and then I can attend events around the country, meet a few more of you and perhaps even get some battles in. Until then I am enjoying Warhammer TV and trying to watch as many batreps as possible!
     
     
  20. Mohojoe

    Test Model - Warchanter

    By Mohojoe,

    I have been working on a test model for my destruction force, its an Ironjawz warchanter.
    Before I add the pictures lets start with the usual excuses:
    I'm by no means a decent painter I haven't really painted anything properly for a year The camera is pretty awful HOWEVER, that being said, I really do feel like this is very indicative of my skill level at painting. It wasn't rushed, this really is me working hard on a figure and I am pretty proud of the results.
    I feel like the skin works well, I am pleased with how the bone idols turned out ( minus the nurgles rot markings), I am incredibly pleased with how the face turned out. I am not convinced with the armour. Its Dark reaper as a base, Followed by thunderhawk blue, a nuln wash, thunderhawk blue on the raised areas and then a further highlight of etherium blue on the raised parts.
     
    All criticism and critiques very much welcome, alternative colour ideas and anything else,
     
    Cheers




  21. Mohojoe

    Getting there

    By Mohojoe,

    Been a bit quiet as I have been mostly picking lists, then changing my mind and then changing it again.
     
    Currently I have amassed:
    Orc Warboss on Boar Goblin Shaman on Arachnarok Spider Moonclan Shaman IronJawz Warchanter 20 Moonclan Grots 20 Ardboyz 10 Brutes In the process of painting through these, My camera phone is awful for photos but I will be pinching the Missus phone at some point to put some pictures up.
     
    I am trying to work out wether I want to focus in on the moonclan guys and get fanatics to support them or to instead go for ogres, for the low model count army. As a nub to competitive games I am a little put off by moving 100 models a turn, taking three hours and then being expelled from any tournament due to being slower than an Orruk doing arithmetic. 
    I am pretty well aware that so far my list isn't going to be super competitive, and im ok with that.  I am mostly getting models I like and trying to make them work in the best way possible. I have sylvanth as a competitive side project but I love destruction models. 
     
    I have also been playing with the idea of dropping the ardboyz and going all in on troggoths instead, they are however well expensive and hard to come across 2nd hand ones!
     
    Anyway, thanks for reading my verbal diarrhoea and I shall have pictures for you all soon. 
  22. Mohojoe
    Denizens Of The Deep
     
     
    Beware straying too far from the village my child and never stay out late,
    For where shadows lay and the earth opens up,
    Nothing but darkness and death await.
     
    For there amidst the crystal, the earth and the loam,
    Creatures feast,
    upon little boys bones.
    Bedtime tale, popular amongst Midlander Wet Nurses - Author Unknown
     
    A Destruction army blog inspired by horror, lovecraft, Goblins and the Dark.
    Leaders
    Arachnarok Spider With Grot Shaman (280)
    Grot Warboss (80)
    Orruk Warchanter (80)
    Orruk Warboss On Wyvern (240)

    Units
    Moonclan Grots x 40 (240)
    Moonclan Grots x 40 (240)
    Grot Fanatics x 6 (180)
    Gitmob Grots x 20 (100)
    Orruk Brutes x 10 (360)
    Orruk Brutes x 5 (180)

    Behemoths

    War Machines

    Batallions

    Total: 1980/2000
     
    I am aiming to start my first tournament in March 2017 and I wanted to create a new army with a strong theme. I love competitive games but I find that I get drawn into that, by the fluffy side. With that in mind I have chosen to create a Destruction army using Orruks and Goblins with a rich backstory. I want them to be distinguishable from all other armies and to have bases and terrain that can aid the narrative behind the army. I have chosen to create an underground dwelling force that thrive in crystalline caves under the nation of "Midland", a fairly generic freeguild nation. They emerge from their underground homes to hunt humans as a food source and as an enslaved work force. 
    I will be using the blog to post short stories, photos of my army, list theory crafting and battle reports. 
    Thanks for reading.
×
×
  • Create New...