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Found 131 results

  1. Brad Gamma

    GharukiOakfireArsenal@0,5x

    My ordinator conversion in front of his cannons!
  2. Brad Gamma

    Gharuki Ordinator

    My Lord Ordinator conversion!
  3. I recently found a huge stack of White Dwarfs from 98-2001 in the loft and it completely rekindled my enthusiasm for the hobby. I was around 11 back in those days and so never painted many of my models. This is my first attempt at my first 10 warriors from my ever growing fully Duardin, Dispossessed, KO, Fyreslayer and Dwarf army. I'm looking to keep this colour scheme going through the army. I'm using Local Highland slate for the bases, if anyone has any tips on creating a more Scottish Highland feel to bases let me know.
  4. So i've edited this from a purely Wolves of Ghur PLOG (although i strayed from that quite early on) into a PLOG for all of my various AOS armies and related projects past and present and I want to keep this first post as contents section with links to the various armies: Wolves of Ghur (Khorne Bloodbound) - Pages 1 -3 (ongoing) Duardin - Page 1 (complete) Sylvaneth Page 2 (complete) Beastmen (Brayherd, Warherd, Daemons, Monsters of Chaos) Page 3 (complete...for now) Ogors and Gargants Page 3 (complete)
  5. Brad Gamma

    Cannons - Gharuki Duardin

    Some cannons I quickly painted up. You'll notice I left the cannons detachable for when I finish some conversions I have planned.
  6. makeshifts

    IMG_E5242

  7. Hey all, Long-time gamer, but recent convert to Age of Sigmar. I played in a 8th ed tournament just before AoS was released, and had such a bad time that I wasn't terribly upset with the demise of the Warhammer world. I had been planning to build a Dark Elf army up until this point, and had collected a bunch of models with the intention of putting it together for 8th ed. But when AoS dropped, I decided to bide my time and to see what happened once the dust settled. And sure enough, the General's Handbook came out and some of my friends convinced me to give it a go, and I loved it at once. I still have my Dark Elfs, but I decided to buy some Sylvaneth first, knowing that I can paint and use my elves with the Sylvaneth as well as wait for whatever they decide to do with Aelfs. I've actually got a lot of Order-flavoured models hanging around, so it's going to be good to have a reason to paint them and use them together, even if that's not always the most optimal way to play. I'm a pretty casual gamer, but I like the points system as I usually play at a club and it's a much easier way to arrange games with that system. And I'm much more a painter than gamer, so I tend to buy and paint things I like the look of, rather than just its tabletop performance. Over the years I've become a strict adherent to the "Play It Painted" mantra, as I discovered it both motivates me to paint it so I can use it, and makes me enjoy the game that much more when everything looks good. My local gaming club (Outpost 6030 in Perth, Western Australia) is running an AoS slow grow league to get people playing the game, and I'm going to be doing my Sylvaneth first up. I've got my first unit of Dryads painted below, and my Branchwych and Kurnous Hunters are almost done. Some of you might recognise that I've followed the Winterleaf colour scheme somewhat. I'd always planned a winter colour scheme, but after reading their background it was an easy decision to go with them, as the fact they like to ally with anyone to fight chaos fits into the idea of my army quite nicely! So thanks for having me, comments and criticism welcome.
  8. makeshifts

    IMG_5161.JPG

  9. 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
  10. Rungi

    Burden Long-Borne

    A Burden Long-Borne Haggrax ached from the joints of his toes to the bond between his skull and neck. His precious burden had cooled his shoulders when he first hoisted the boulder across his leathered back, but lately it had become… a challenge. The elder rememberer of the Undissons had traversed alpine trails across Skaddi’s own range for well over four centuries and had padded his way from the tree-kin nurseries that grew mighty Sylvaneth guardians to the towering Ironwood kingdoms to the South. Images flickered alongside reality in his rummy eyes. Ethereal duardin shields repelled a torrent of misty bile launched from a tentacled demon itself being unmade by the sun beams penetrating the pine canopy. In other places, heroes forgotten to time nodded a greeting from where their fogged forms had settled on stump and stone. But lately, his visions were brighter. They were loud. At times his sight darkened all around the scene until he wasn't more than a frozen audience as skeletal figures tore unsuspecting duardin from the ancestor halls and into an empty darkness. Meanwhile the kinstone rocked and shook with what could only be described as a fever. Day and night glaucous, ghostly images of battered and beaten duardin overwhelmed his vision and screams clawed at his mind. “They say all livin’ creatures have a place in Allarielle’s gardens. Guess the dawi’s is luggin’ out skree from Skaddi’s tinkerin’ “ grumbled Haggrax aloud. He had lost reverence long ago for the minor-deity who served as neglectful patroness of his clan. Powerful, she might be, but there were many powerful beings in the realms. Whereas the Everqueen grew and trimmed her creations alongside the cycles of Ghyran, Skaddi was always seeking more. It was not enough to bless her worshippers with the senses of wild beasts, she had to visit them in their dreams until they thought themselves oracles. She was not satisfied with a mountain sanctuary, instead tasking the Undissons with turning it to a living temple. At least her greed proved her nature that of a duardin. The crackling energy speared down the back of his neck, through his lung and across his bowels before scattering its shocks across his right thigh. Dropping to one knee, Haggrax almost shrugged the menacing load from his shoulders and allowed it to fall to the ground in a rune-inscribed heap, but he dared not. This stone was nothing short of a messenger to those feasting in the heavenly halls on the unreachable side of the mountain. He had been tasked to bear it passage into a distant land where it would connect a seldom-rumored duardin prophet with his lost kin, and he would not be the rememberer his babes and rin told tales about for shirking his duties. “One foot in front’ah the next, aye ya overgrown pebble? Couple more days ‘til we’re at the gate.” *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** His students were overzealous the lot of them, but they weren’t witless. To see his prized pupil in weather-torn tatters, ranting about the manipulators of fate and Shyshian necromancers reaching out to all the realms, as though he understood the gravity of such things… Even the wise rememberer was left uneasy. Maybe the lad had consumed too much of his homebrew, but Haggrax feared the madness that gripped him had more celestial origins. Wide-set nostrils drew in a gust of unseasonably damp air and rejected it with a snort. Rains tonight, maybe before the sun had crept below the earth even. “Guess we dropped further’an I’d thought,” grumbled the greybeard with a voice rough as a landslide. “Gate oughta be half a day off now, jus’ low enough for the streams t’be babbling free of the cold…” His musings drifted off, unable to focus on anything but his mistrust in Skaddi. Why send him away now, and with an object of such power? Why fill the warrior-priest’s mind with apocalyptic images but not share any such fears with Haggrax? There had been one truth the wild-eyed warrior had stated though - Skaddi was lost. Whatever schemes were afoot in the background, she could not see nor comprehend them. What this meant for her most devout clan, he was not sure. His dreams now reeked of death, and left a sour film on his tongue when he awoke each morning. It was not the stale sort found in old tombs or which clung to the relics he studied as a youth. Rather this was the stench of spoiled meat, where the remnants of corpses cooked in steaming crags and crevices, unfound or unwanted by scavengers. With each bare stomp into the snow, Haggrax the Rememberer relished the freshness of snow between his toes. An age ago he had learned to control his own thoughts as he navigated the spiritual flood that visited him in his travels. But the stone never relented, never ceased. The crackling energies that scrambled across its surface had begun to leave searing marks not only on his skin but across the stone surface itself. Haggrax thought he even had noticed a small crack this morning. Hourly meditations had preserved his sanity thus far, but he was not sure the pain coursing through the kinstone wouldn’t overwhelm him eventually. Summiting the narrow path between the steep ridge sides, Haggrax was suddenly looking down at a barren ravene floor, something akin to a natural mineshaft amongst the mountains, only lit by what little sun reflected down from the snow above. The smell of sulfur was nearly erased by crisp winds fluttering snow through the taller pines of this altitude, but his veteran senses were not tricked. Tomorrow he would carry the stone into the realm of fire, though he couldn’t entirely explain why. The persistent crying out of the kinstone had not ceased, but he had noticed a shift in it’s demands and was attempting to shift his own plans to meet them. Whereas at first he recognized the faces of the Undissons crying out as the were dragged into the darkness, more and more Haggrax had been shown lands he had never visited and duardin he did not know. It was in the oddly familiar eyes of a beaten, naked dwarf curled in what must have been an underground cell that he understood his purpose. As it lost its connection to his clan’s ancestors, the stone had begun searching for others. If his mad student was to be believed, all of the living, wherever they might be, were under assault by the dead and the souls of those passed on were guaranteed no safe rest. The kinstone was showing him brethren separated by ages, possibly when the dark powers had overrun the realms. “An yer sure this is the job, huh? Y’want my old bones to carry you ‘round the realms to find all your friends,” Haggrax chided the vessel. Inside though, he felt a warmth spread from his center. He wouldn’t presume to understand the full purpose of this journey, but the salty mystic was grudgingly honored by the possible scope of this task. Resting the stone alongside a tall trunk, the elder took a deep breath of the cold mountain air. Tomorrow, he would walk into the fires, a land of peril where he hoped to find those the stone yearned for. “Hardly the escape Skaddi had planned,” he chuckled to himself, but she did not have Haggrax’s perspective of the ages after all. With a grunt, he drove his staff into the ground and smirked as vines and creepers erupted and swirled round themselves at his feet. But first he’d get some rest he thought as he nestled himself in to commune with his visions. Haggrax the Rememberer of Clan Undisson
  11. Rungi

    Herald of the Blizzard Queen

    Skaddi's Own Haakon hadn't consumed any Blue-shroom Brew since he finished the last keg a week ago. And his newest batch, though potent as he expected it to be, was just beginning to ferment. Haakon grinned as would a child who knew he had gotten away with a particularly risky prank, thinking of his banned homebrew warming him from the inside out. It would be a welcome relief from the icy winds that swirled around him as he drove his sled through the night. His uncle’s jaw was as stone and his chest ever-full, but in his eyes there had been a look few had ever seen in the revered ruler. They were slightly wider than usual, unblinking and fixed directly on the object of their attention as though they could hold it tightly in place. Haakon noticed. “I will not be alone, Uncle. My pledge-kin will join me, and the goddess will watch over us. Haggrax the Rememberer is to come along as well,” he had tried to assure his worried mentor. And so off they had charged towards the Horn of Endruul, Haakon riding ahead of the march so as to hopefully intercede before any desecration. The beastherds should be starving on the Ice’s Teeth by now, but when they set themselves to a purpose, they were far swifter than the dwarves. “They will still be many, and there is no shortage of wild thing for them to enslave in that harsh range. Keep your wits,” the elder had cautioned. Their warrior’s embrace would hopefully not be the last they'd share, but if it was, that was the cost of Haakon’s connection to the goddess. The war dogs strained against their bonds, whining and yipping with excitement; all but the lead pair, his alphas. Closer to domesticated wolves than pets or working stock, these creatures had served the Undissons for generations. But it was Haakon who first taught them to pull a sled. It was Haakon who trained them to respond to his subtle shifts of weight, rather than the harsh command of the whip. Behind him, the smell of the first night’s fire had faded, but Haakon did not notice. All he could hear was the slicing of runner through ice as his sled raced down the trampled track of the herd. By morning, he’d have reached them and could begin choosing targets. The pack alphas, driving the sled of Haakon the Mad His fellow Oathsworn would be on the trail before sun-up. Heavily-muscled and thick of bone, they wouldn’t travel fast, but by evening his campfire would again smell of bloodbrew, weapon-polish and dreamer’s chew. Haakon’s heart pounded in his chest with the excitement of leading his comrades on the hunt. So many sacred lands had been defiled, it was time these grudges were settled and peaks cleansed. Hakkon’s blood surged in an unusually persceptable pulse through his body, his hands tightening on the reigns. He noticed the edges of his vision blurring rapidly and forced his eyes wider. He inhaled the cold mountain air in a sharp pull, flooding his consciousness back into control and using this brief moment of clarity to pull his sled to a rest in a drift not 3 feet off of the trail. As he released the clasps that confined his team, a dark-furred head presumptuously if half-heartedly snapped at his hand, only to be bowled over and pinned by a growling alpha. Remembering the teachings of Master Haggrax, Haakon lowered himself into a deep squat. He sunk from a spring-loaded crouch into relaxing balance. Haakon measured his breathing, finding a steady rhythm that soon faded into the background as his vision took over. Bloody tracks, first scattered but getting more dense until they culminated in steaming puddles of mud and gore… A spear of gleaming blue ice with gruesome offerings heaped at its base or tied round its shining surface… Heavy bodies stomped about on cloven feet, guttural utterings in the place of speech… Closest to the stone were several hooded figures, each taller than a man but not thick like the goat men… There was a melodious nature to their chanting and he could feel himself drawn to it… The enemy were too, as the gors began to walk towards the stone, many shedding their armor as they went. They began to rock forward and back, breathing in the thickening purplish fog that had begun to creep all about them, rising in snaking tendrils from their ankles until it slithered into their nostrils. His vision began to shimmer. He was losing hold. The beasts moaned both in pleasure and pain as armored scales sprouted across their shoulders. Just then, one of the hooded figures turned towards Hakkon and loosed an awful screech from its avian beak. The vision quaked violently before dissolving. … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … The pack strained silently, but maintained their discipline, poised to attack just outside the ring of brush that surrounded the camp. Haakon’s eyes darted from furred hulk to cloven foot to horned mantle until he caught a glimpse of his prey. Unnaturally iridescent feathers, seemingly shifting from the green of the deep jungle to the teal of a glassy sea to a mystical pink, most comparable to the scales of a young summer wyrm, with every step of the cloaked form. The lithe figure was not touched or approached, but every beastman it passed watched it intently. Haakon unstrapped the twin hammers from his back, drew in a deep breath, and let out a high whistle. The pack alphas of Haakon the Mad War cries surrounded the camp as fur-clad duardin emerged from behind boulders and out of dense cover. Weapons were slammed into the earth in a challenge that was soon met by hungry growls and horned charges. With the slavering herd spreading out to meet the directionless attack, Haakon’s pack charged through an opening, lunging for the soft throats of even the newly scale-plated bestigors. All manner of death cry could be heard, but none took root in the mind of Skaddi’s champion. Though his visions were so often embedded within spells of dizziness and crippling pain, Haakon knew the lesser-goddess empowered her chosen alpha. Nothing distracted the predator as he strode through the fracas. The war dogs of Haakon the Mad … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … He wore scant armor and no boots, great plumage and a single high ridge affixed to an otherwise plain iron skullcap. His ruddy pink skin was not aglow with runic tattoo or mystical fire… Could this truly be the challenger who interrupted his transformation ritual? That was clearly a hero. His eyes had glowed with power. A furious heat had radiated from his densely muscled figure. No, this could not be the immortal he had seen. Xcryx’trynct the Temptor threw back the hood from his head and shook out his locks, allowing them to untangle from his crown of curled horns. He let the rest of the shoddy woolen cloak drop from his broad shoulders, admiring his gloriousness as the morning sunlight stabbed through the snow clouds to shine off of his multicolored feathers. The vain shaman hardly noticed his warband being cut down all about, for he was already imagining the taste of this upstart’s blood. Drawing a scimitar in his right hand while leveling his staff with his left, the Temptor gave a clicking chortle, taunting his foe. … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … Haakon had never seen such a beast. Frenzied half-men of all shades adorned with claws, fangs, bony growths or even hooves were the norm. Some, more blessed by the dark powers were more goat or bull than man and had the might to tear through a city guard. The creatures his pack had surprised were even larger and possessed odd scales and bulky growths, mutations that seemed more design than organic… And now this bird-man, glowing with an eery light… But there were many things the champion wished he could unsee in Ghyran since the arrival of the plague bringers. These were just more of the same. As the creature pranced and whirled, it made hissing and clicking sounds that had an oddly self-assured tone. Haakon sank his toes into the trampled snow, making sure each step had full traction and the push could be felt from the extension of his ankle through to his hip. Bounding from side to side with each stride, he noticed the widening of his prey’s eyes. Just outside the range of a staff’s swing, Haakon shortened his step right, hopped, and then gave a full push off. While feeling the air flow from the scimitar stab where the creature expected him to be, the sneering dwarf unloaded a hammer blow that crunched into the underside of the serrated beak. His second hammer strike shattered the staff hand, causing the weapon to fall into the snow and quickly lose its glow. With a roll and wheel, Haakon squared himself to the reeling enemy. A block and counter swing was all it took to drop his foe. Stepping closer to stand over the fallen defiler and examine it one final time before he finished his work, Haakon was annoyed to hear it begin to cackle again. Before he could strike down, it's body burst into a flutter of tiny birds, each scrambling into the sky with their misshapen wings. He tried to kill them, but only was able to fell a few which quickly turned to shapeless pulp. Letting out a roar of frustration, Haakon was answered by cheers. It appeared his comrades had finished their work and were satisfied that there would be no further defiling of this holy ground… ... Haakon suspected this was just the beginning of the atrocities he would see. Haakon the Mad's sled being pulled through mud and snow by his pack of war dogs. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The Trap is Sprung Their whining had stopped and paw-strikes gone silent. The hunting dogs strained into their harnesses, working in tight coordination with their alpha’s example. Soon the pungent musk of the herd was noticeable, it's accompaniment by the stench of decay, a sign that this herd had earned favor of the grotesque one and would likely be more formidable than the last. If they traveled with knights, Haakon feared they might be beyond his prowess. He could feel the beating of his own heart, faster and faster, but he forced it to steady. There was no time for a dream now. Bursting from a brush line and joining a trail, Haakon's team was confronted with gruesome signposts made of dismembered limbs. Hands forced to point in conflicting directions were crudely nailed to stripped thigh bones and topped with decapitated heads, the edges of their mouths sawed into gory smiles. The effigies lined the way in both directions but seemed to extend more densely to the right, so instinctively he prompted the team to turn in that direction, only to come face to face with the stuff of nightmares. He pulled in the reigns hard, tipping the sled and rolling out from under it as it tumbled to a halt and the team attempted to keep free of the weight. Blocking the path were the bodies of his fellow hunters. Their limbs, where still attached, were broken into sharp angles. Cracked ribs protruded from their sides and guts were slashed open to reveal torn entrails. The bodies hung limply by nooses braided from the hair of their shorn beards. Haakon roared in fury. When it's echoes faded, he heard the cackling. The Oathsworn lashed out with his twin warhammers, striking out in wide circles to the left and then right, but the enemy could not be seen. Sinking to his knees, the warrior-priest’s growls gave way to sobs. How could he not have seen the perils facing his brothers earlier? The defilers and their bestial followers had spoiled yet another prestige wilderness, this time fouling it with an offense made from his own brethren. Haakon preparing to strike with his twin hammers. Gathering himself, Haakon bowed his head in prayer to Skaddi. He asked forgiveness for allowing such an insult to her kin. He vowed to settle this grudge or be destroyed in the attempt. But most of all, Haakon pleaded with Skaddi that she might accept these Oathsworn into the ranks of her mountains’ protectors. He begged her to see the purity of their hearts and to bestow upon them the honor of pledging their souls to her spirit-guard. Silence. Haakon sat in the complete silence only a practiced devotee could manage, waiting for a gust of icy wind to dry his tears, the howl of a wolf to guide his hunt… Any sign the goddess might send him. But for an agonizingly long time, there was nothing. And so he sat. Haakon would not entertain the thought that they could have been abandoned; not by Skaddi. When Grungni had pointed his children to refuge in the thunder-king’s heavens it was Skaddi who had denounced his cowardice. It was Skaddi who had sent the storms and the beasts to aide the Undissons in defense of their homes. And most recently, it was Skaddi who had sent her blessed out to secure the sacred sites within these ranges. She would never turn her back on her little brothers and sisters. Just then, an unseasonably warm rain began to fall. Though the air felt still, thunderheads moved overhead with force, blocking out the light save for their own electric flashes. Haakon felt no dizziness or dream-state coming, rather his benefactor simply appeared to him from within the storm as though she had walked out from the brush in plain day. Pale of skin and emanating a blue glow as she was in constant communion with the spirits who lived alongside the duardin of these icy mountains, Skaddi looked down upon her tiny warrior-priest as rivulets of pain flowed from eyes as pure as fresh snow-cover. “I was deceived little brother, and now I have lead you astray. A trickster sent forth by the dark gods drew my attention towards the Horn of Endruul and the kinstone sheltered within. Your wise teacher Haggrax the Rememberer has removed the stone from it's icy armor and carries it from the reaches of the defilers.” “But goddess, surely the stone will be safer in hiding with Haggrax than undefended as the bringers of sickness continue to befoul the mountains?” “That would be true little brother, but several of the players have only recently shown themselves. In the shadows they have managed to gain advantage that I fear we cannot recover from.” Haakon was stunned. His clan had worshipped Skaddi since the Age of Myth when she alone spoke to the connection between the mountains and the spirits of their ancestors. It was Skaddi who had helped them to settle the icy heights of Ghyran all those centuries ago, and who had taught them to use the natural energies coursing through ice and stone to commune with their predecessors. To this day, Skaddi spoke loudest to the Undissons, more clearly than to any other clan in Realm of Life. She had resolutely called Haakon and his brother Oathsworn to arms just the other night, sending them forth to preserve these sacred lands. He simply could not fathom the demi-goddess of mountain blizzards leading them astray. “In my suffering at all our losses, I was too hasty to try and prevent further corruption. The Mountainsson Grove ceased it's song. When I saw the twisted husks of the young tree-kin, I thought they had died of disease, but now I know they were bathed in warpfire…” “Warpfire?” Repeated Haakon in confusion. “That does not sound like the work of the plague-carriers or the beast herds.” “No, in fact it was not. It was simply a ploy to disarm the holy mountains, for the mature war groves are entangled in battle, and the few children of the wood that managed to survive have had to be ushered into hiding, or risk the extinction of their line.” Skaddi paused, gathering herself under the weight of her shame. “So too was there a ploy to spur Haggrax’s removal of the kinstone inside Endruul’s horn, thus dampening the communication between devoted and ancestor. The purple lightning that shattered the prayer-ledge of little brother Draketongue was not of Sigmar nor my creation. Dorbus the Shepherd even went about burying his totems for fear of what they could be used for if desecrated. Alas young priest, all these attempts have done is tear apart the webs of power that course through my once majestic ranges…” Haakon was beginning to understand, and the truth was far more grim than he had imagined. “You have not spoken of befoulment…” “For this was not the plague demon’s doing,” replied the glowing goddess sadly. “Then who?” Wondered Haakon aloud. “The god of lies and deceit has played his first hand. The trickster has manipulated me into severing the ties in our network of power. This has left my devoted, such as your clan’s Oathsworn, isolated and vulnerable. The secret-trader could prey on any of you he chooses now, and I would hardly see it at its peak, let alone in time to intervene.” “We did not pledge ourselves blindly great sister,” Haakon insisted. “If we fall, you will reshape us into blessed beasts to continue fighting alongside our brothers, in the service of our mountain temples.” “I wish it was still so…” Skaddi’s voice trailed off. After a pause, she gathered pulled her mind back from whatever was haunting her thoughts. “Another threat has been growing, and it's vile mechanations have begun to take hold. Nagash, ruler of the dead, has called to claim the souls of the fallen and his power has swelled as the tides of war have swept in. Though the ancestors are firmly rooted in stone still, your newly fallen brothers are beyond my reach.” Haakon of clan Undisson, driven mad in his hunt for the souls of kin “But you taught that sacrifice for the clan would bring the reward of ascension to the mountain’s pantheon of defenders. The other teachers and myself, our own teachers… We have preached this to those we trained since they were babes…” “It appears the treacherous one knew of Nagash’s growing reach and sought to take advantage. We thought we only fought against one evil, but cultists and bird-faced abominations have harried our flanks and forced us to stretch beyond our limits.” Blood filled his muscular frame as Haakon’s entire body tensed. The blizzard queen saw the fury in the warrior-priest’s eyes, the white of the storm flashing in her own as a warning to him. But he was no longer concerned with the demigoddess’ powers. She who had once taught them how to navigate to safety seemed to have lead them to their doom. The plague god’s minions corrupted once pristine wilds. The god of deception was slowly undermining their defenses, with what foul purpose he did not want to imagine. And now the god of the dead sought to enslave his clan for his own devices. There was only one question left to ask. “And who will protect our clan while I hunt the great necromancer?” “You know that answer already.” “She’s not ready, especially as fever overruns the range.” “And that is why the princess is leaving, your whole clan in fact,” replied Skaddi in a measured way, as though gauging the warrior priest’s reaction to each word as she spoke it. “Your uncle will of course remain king, but he has spent his strength protecting these lands. His daughter, however, has a yet unrevealed strength about her. She will join with a renegade king from Azyr and establish a new home range, one where the ancestors can once again find peace under the mountains.” “And I am to trust this upstart from another realm?” “No sweet brother, you are not. You have a different purpose…” Haakon the Mad of Clan Undisson, crackling with ancestral fury _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Riding into Darkness: Tattered leather coverings flapped furiously as the opac wind raced alongside them. Haakon ranted and muttered to himself but could not collect his thoughts. It had been a week since the he entered the shadowlands, the longest he had gone without communing with Skaddi since she had first reached out to him as a beardling. He was delirious, haunted by grinning skulls in his dreams and taunted by the echoes of cackling birds when awake. She had entrusted Haakon with the greatest of missions, so grand in scope that Haakon assumed he would meet his doom in the attempt. First he had caught up with Haggrax, tracking him by the feigntest of scent trails. The ruffian had ceased his cursing when Haakon’s panicked words registered. Equally disturbed by the demi-goddess having been lead astray and his greatest pupil’s sputtering tale of massacre and conspiracy, the old master had reached out a gnarled hand and placed it on his pupil’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. The Rememberer then revealed a plan to reunite long lost brothers under common banners. If he survived, Haggrax said with a wild-eyed grin, he'd meet Haakon in the clan’s new halls. Next he sought out Brother Draketongue. The feral duardin had sacrificed any semblance of a normal or traditional life long ago, even by Undisson standards. But it was a price he'd happily pay again for the ability to commune so fluently with generations of long-dead ancestors. They gave him the strength to accomplish feats that had made him famous from mountain temple to Ironwood keep. But even as he nodded in agreement with Haakon’s strategy to send the hermit into Shysh first to chart a path and set a rallying point for their forces while Haakon rode into Uglu to bring the clan’s most potent weapon into their plans, Draketongue knew they likely all would fall under the shambling hordes long before they could assemble for the battle they sought. Afterwards, Haakon had hunted down Eliriya Tree-sister and Dorbus the Shepherd. The mystics each had taken note of the way his eyes flashed with lightning and he voice seemed to roar as thunder. He might have only recently reached teaching-status in the priesthood, but this Haakon was quite obviously the instrument of Skaddi herself. And he was now emerging as the herald of great things to come, despite rumors that a madness had taken hold of him. Finally, he had traversed peak to valley, gathering the scattered questing knights of the Undissons. Rebellious and determined the lot, they had eventually agreed to his demand that they ride into Shysh when they heard that Elendor the Scarred would be meeting them at the portal. The legendary warrior-priestess had honored the gods time and again with her heroic deeds, and these babes were filled with pride at being invited to fight alongside her, no matter how grave the odds. Following a woodland trail through a darkness that no starlight nor fog-covered sun could penetrate, Haakon had completely lost his sense of time, but he was still acutely aware that something watched he and his team. What, or who, he could not tell. But Haakon the Mad knew one other thing with equal certainty - Even if Draketongue was able to assemble their band of heroes tomorrow night under the lone ironwood standing in the Garden of the Fallen, they would likely fall as the last of the Undisson mountain guardians to have defended Ghyran, if not simply the end of their clan’s line entirely. And so Haakon the Mad plunged deeper into the bewitching fog, following the invisible trail of spirit-power. His dogs’ surging legs never tired, for they had been hardened to the mountain’s strength. His blazing purple eye noticed what could not be seen because they had been blessed with the blizzard’s sharpness. With these gifts he had a chance to find the mother of bears and her duardin companion. ...But the real question was how to prevent the creature from tearing him apart on sight.
  12. Brad Gamma

    Gharuki Gyrocopter

  13. Lord Panther

    Finished Frigate

    Here’s my finished Frigate. Finally got the basing sorted and I’m pretty happy with the result.
  14. Lost2Requiem

    For the Ancestors!

    The aether-gold seem refracted from the bronze hull of the Dammaz Grund as she silently coasted through the inky black Chamon sky, making strange lights dance around the Ironclad like faeries round a Sylvaneth tree. Captain Kron looked out through his optics but could find nothing that demanded his interest aside from his Gunhauler escort, Azul Dum, tailing him at a safe distance with her guns scanning the skies for danger. Turning away from his porthole Kron laid in his bunk and examined the aether maps that adorned the ceiling of his quarters. It must be here somewhere, he pondered, stretching out a think finger and tracing the various routes and aether-gold seems, re-examining for the hundredth time the ancient trade routes bequeathed to him by his ancestors. A rapid banging on his door broke Kron from his reverie. “What is it?” he bellowed, knowing already that it wasn’t going to be anything good given the urgency of the knocking. “Captain, we need you on the bridge.” Kron recognised the voice as Duz, a recent addition to his crew from the last Musterpress. “Why? What have you done to my ship?” roared Kron as he threw his door open and barged past Duz, despite the latter’s best efforts to get out of his Captain’s way. “Captain, we….” A loud explosion rocked the Dammaz Grund from bow to stern. Kron was thrown from his feet despite his magnetised boots, just managing to catch a handrail to avoid being thrown overboard and plummeting to the steel plains thousands of feet below. The world began to spin erratically. Kron caught sight of Duz spiralling away into the darkness, and Azul Dum illuminating the sky with cannon and carbine fire whilst herself clearly in distress, wreathed in smoke and fire with one aether-endrin on the verge of breaking its moorings. Kron heard his own weapon batteries begin to return fire at the unseen assailants, the unmistakable whoosh of aethershock torpedoes soaring into the darkness. Getting to his feet, Kron staggered to the bridge, passing several dead Arkanauts on his way, plus a large number of dead and dying winged creatures. Really ugly winged creatures, thought Kron, with glaring red eyes and long yellow fangs. “Zaki, What in the name of Grungni’s beard is happening?” shouted Kron across the wrecked bridge. Kron’s veteran First Officer looked at him through the chaos, he was missing his rebreather and had clearly been severely burnt. “Just another night on the bridge, Captain. Aside from the flocks of undead terrors”. Kron smiled to himself inside his armour, good to know that Zaki hadn’t lost his sense of humour along with half his face and possibly his left arm. “Can’t I leave you to deal with anything by yourself?” snapped Kron as he crushed the skull of a nearby winged monster with his fist just as warning klaxons began to blare across the entire length of the vessel. Time was short, a decision was necessary. Zaki looked at Kron for confirmation of what they both already knew, Dammaz Grund was dying, but there was going to be no abandon ship order. “All hands to the weapon batteries, overcharge the endrins and set a course for the centre of this nightmare. Time we check out these God for ourselves, eh Zaki?” “Aye, aye Captain! Course set, all crew to battle stations.” Zaki pulled out his personal decksweeper and readied it for maximal scatter. Setting the tiller on auto and with a final cry of “for the ancestors of Barak-Thryng!” the two Duardin threw themselves into the bloody mayhem of the night. Hi everyone, Apologies for the long post – hope mixing narrative with painting progress is ok. Thought I’d share my growing Barak-Thryng force for AoS. Probably won’t get it to the table till 2.0 hits, but it gives me time to get it sorted out and the background written. Oh, and I have their enemies, a Legion of Blood host, to write up and paint too... First up is the Gunhauler Azul Dum – after surviving the attack that claimed her charge, the crew of Azul Dum have sworn vengeance and pledged their lives to recover the Ironclad. They are currently assigned to the frigate Gromthi Zan. Next are the Arkanauts from the frigate Gromthi Zan – detached from mining operations to accompany Admiral Bryn Ghal-Durak on his quest to recover his flagship (during the attack Ghal-Durak was aboard the frigate Garaz Dar so survived.) On the way: Frigate Gromthi Zan and the Admiral of Fleet Ghal-Durak himself, the very angry Bryn Ghal-Durak! Thanks for looking. L2R
  15. Lord Panther

    Endrinmaster finished!

    Endrinmaster is complete! This is my favourite model from the army so I'm pretty happy that he is finished and came out so well.
  16. Lord Panther

    Frigate Progress

    Here's how my first boat is progressing. It's been a bit of slow going, quite complex with lots of sub-assemblies. Still need to do a few little touch ups and figure out the base. The flight stand is giving me a few problems, the ball joint just lets the whole ship roll over. Don't want to glue it so will have to figure something out. Maybe some sort of pin arrangement.
  17. Lord Panther

    Grundstok Thunderers

    Thunderers done. I think I’m getting the hang of the blue armour now, these guys didn’t take long at all to get done. Next up is a Khemist then another Arkanauts Company.
  18. Lord Panther

    Holiday Highlights

    I've made a bit of progress over the break. Lots of painting time. Am trying to get my Necromunda gangs painted up as well. Here's my finished Khemist. I put a bit more detail into the honeycomb of his hazmat suit (rather than the dark brown for the others). Lots of fun with the different metallics. Here's my second Arkanaut company all finished: And then I decided to get a few shots of the whole army to date. I like how it all feels together. Still got another 3 Endrinriggers to complete, then it's time to build the massive Ironclad kit.
  19. makeshifts

    First-10-4

  20. makeshifts

    First-10-3

  21. makeshifts

    First-10-2

  22. makeshifts

    First-10-1

  23. Molochmaschine

    Sunk Cost Fallacy

    I bought a Fyreslayers SC box with the intention of making them my main army (sold everything else. Currently army-less). The more I read about them though, the more it seems like they just can’t perform at the 1000pt level, where we almost exclusively play at my local shop. They’re also overwhelmingly expensive (at least for me right now) to build up to the 2000pt level. Especially when there are so many easy and relatively inexpensive options out there, like the Stormcast Vanguard 1k-Army-in-a-box for $200. Do I stay the course and keep shelling out a fortune for an army I can barely play? Is there hope for fyreslayers in small games? I’ve already spent the money for the box and the book, now I’m stuck. I guess I’m just curious as to what the rest of the world would do. I have a tendency to obsess about these things until it drives me insane, so any advice is much appreciated.
  24. Rungi

    Grundal-Thrynaz

    The Glittering Host: There was a smell… A smell beyond sweetness - more ripe - that would’ve turned the stomach of a less seasoned soldier. As Dhurgan Dorginson marched his ranks of hammerers out to the ridge where the patches of sword-grass gave way to rocky slopes, he noticed slight vents of the pugnant steam rising from beyond the line of battle. Growing quiet he plodded on grimly, aware that this mission would likely require more than routine hammer-work. Others noticed their captains change in mood and tightened their grips on their double-handed warhammers. What they saw as they advanced over the edge made hair on their necks bristle. Frenzied grots were scrambling forward in waves, as many slashing with claws as wielding any sort of actual weapon. They screeched at an unnatural pitch and snapped needle-lined jaws at duardin and eachother alike. More alarming still was the strangely-colored steam that burst from the ground every few feet. Some insidious brand of sorcery was at work here. To his right Dhurgan heard a usually steady warrior stifling his gags and the captain didn't have to guess why. They had all been raised on tales of warpfire burning their kin alive. The silence of the dwarves as they set to their task spoke volumes as to their fears. … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …. ... … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …. ... … … … … … … … … … … … … … … As the enemy closed, it mattered not that the champion could not make out the details of their faces at the speed they were scrambling. The gnashing teeth and disheveled scraps of leather were a blur that only became harder to distinguish as it got closer. The way his clansmen had planted their feet, suddenly in a more perfect shield wall, white knuckles wrapped around axe handles… They were ready. Thane Brom Firebrow was sure his grandfather could see his excitement and pride in his charges, even at a distance and at his advanced age. With massive shoulders, a barrel chest and the legs of an ox, Brom was made to cut down the clan’s enemies. Brom took a deep breath, attempting to slow his pulse. Today he would display the leadership he had lacked thus far and which had stalled his invitation to join The Chosen.… Thane Brom Firebrow of the Karakigrom, Champion amongst clansmen … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …. ... … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …. ... … … … … … … … … … … … … … … Norgrim Proudsong looked about at the glittering host as they went about clearing a path through the greenskins. The golden embellishments suggested a decorative or ceremonial purpose to the armor which belied its power to protect the King’s chosen right arm. The deep blue cracks would be considered flaws in ordinary craftsmanship, but in this case were revered as a sign of the materials origin, from the heart of the mountains of this world. The sun gleaming off of their polished white helmets and shoulder guards stood in sharp contrast to the disfigured wretches with their blotchy pale skins and scabbed, metallic growths. This was truly a case of the noble cleansing a blight from the world. Lord Proudsong glanced behind him. Holding the line was a massive shieldwall. In some places clan heraldry was illuminated by the glowing runes that framed it. In others they glittered with ornate phoenixes wrought in mithril and gold. In most places though, copper effigies of the ancestors adorned a blue-painted field. In the heart of the line stood a wild, red-bearded warrior hacking in broad arcs through every grey-skinned foe that came near. Where most made amateur attempts at the defensive maneuvers they’d been taught, this dawi still wore his shield on his back and maintained the offensive in bold defiance of the enemy. The fool was a force to be reckoned with, no doubt, and probably envisioned himself as some type of inspiration. He also might be the downfall of the clan against a stronger opponent. Norgrim’s heavy white whiskers lifted in a small smirk as he turned away, amused at what his son must be thinking as he evaluated the next generation’s performance. Honor in Waiting: Norbrum Proudsong held one of the greatest honors a duardin could be afforded. As captain of the Peak Guard he fought at the king’s right hand and was responsible for selecting and training the king’s new personal bodyguard. His excellence with either warhammer or short sword and shield were well known throughout the clan. Norbrum had successfully commanded units of reclaimed in legendary encounters: holding realmgates alongside the thunder god’s stormcast, cutting through herds of beastmen to deliver the Azyr’s words of hope, and most recently, standing guard at his king’s side as the slave hordes pressed close at the command of a beaked shaman and his cultists. “The hammer and shield” they were admiringly called - father and son leading the greatest the Vengeful Throng had to offer. His father trained every hammerer to pass through The Chosen, including the revered who raised the king’s banners, carried his grudges, and had whispered him advice since childhood. Norbrum’s climb was swift, rising to captain the Chosen, then into the guard, and finally refining his maneuvering and tactics enough to be trusted with calling the orders alongside the king himself. He was his father’s finest weapon, forged in fires of battle as red as his wild beard. If only he was as skilled as a teacher... The king would be addressing the survivors tomorrow morning as soon as the sun crested the ring of mountains around their valley sanctuary. That meant the Thane would be having a quick bite of stonebread and nap by the fire for his late dinner and full armor and sharp wits for his breakfast. Too many nights like this and even this disciplined soldier might find himself astride a wooden bench, arm-wrestling for the next round as beardlings and rin looked on and fueled his ego… “I’ll leave that to you now son.” Norbrum said aloud, chuckling as he settled by the fire. Shifting his weight back and forth until he was comfortable, Norbrum’s senses heightened, as they were wont to do when he was anxious. Brom had saved lives. Brom had out-dueled several scores of desperate grots. And tonight there would not be a shortage of tales told about the carnage Brom brought. But come the morning, Brom would stand with his warriors while his father and grandfather stood with the hammerers. For all his accomplishments, Brom had not been able to outgrow his youthful impulsiveness and prove himself worthy of a place among the elites. For his part, Norbrum had tried to council the fool, and his son had played his part, nodding agreement as the shame burned in his flushed face. Why did he lack so much discipline? Why did he feel the need to always play the lone hero? Could he not see the honor of the shieldwall? The way it honored not just the warriors beside him, but his ancestors? **CRASH** The glass tankard shattered as it fell from his hand and collided with the stones he sat on, snapping the thane to his senses. He would speak to his son again when time allowed, but tomorrow the lad would be lucky to catch his steely blue gaze as it scanned the ridgeline for threats. His mouth was sticky at the edges, dry from his clenched grimace. Theirs was the warrior arm of the family; captains of broad-shouldered heroes and smiters of hell’s creations. Rungi had called on the honor of great duardin clans in order to bring to life the stuff of their childhood games, the Barazi-Wyr. His family would uphold their oaths, and the bull-tempered son would learn from the father’s deafening silence. Thane Norbrum Proudsong, Captain of the Grundal-Thrynaz A Great Honor Bestowed: Norbrum could recall the day the king bestowed onto him the gifts of the Grundal-Thrynaz, the first honor guard of emergent king. Now they added new hammerers to their ranks and grew to a full force under his command. It would be a somber ceremony; a moment of honor earned on a painful day so many had not survived. The broadbacked Darbli Doorcarver had lined wooden chests in a row before those to be recognized, each decorated with ornate carvings. The carvings depicted the great deeds of the clan since their emergence into Chamon. As Norbrum addressed each warrior, the clan’s grudge-caller opened the chest and laid out the contents one by one on the ground before him. Each item was a symbolic gift. Gleaming blue breastplate, gromril helm, runic warhammer; all inlaid with purple jewels of the kingsguard. Thick black leather gloves that could withstand the hottest forges. Talismans holding ancient powers. Brass tankards from the clan’s brewmasters, always to be kept full for as long as the honored could sit upright on a bench. Babes in the front row of the attending crowd could barely contain their excitement as each gift was bestowed. This was a day that would change the path of the dawi’s family for generations. Darbli Doorcarver, trusted advisor and childhood friend of the king Grudge-Caller of the Karakigrom Norbrum turned and faced a hammerer who had stripped to his underclothes. As he handed the great warrior each item, the dawi was transformed before their eyes. He was no longer an individual within the clan. He was the clan, the finest of themselves they had to offer. There were dark days ahead of them, but so long as these dawi could hold a warhammer the sun would rise again and chase away the night. This was why the ever-stoic Norbrum served. This was why he held this position sacred. He believed Rungi was the sun that would drive the darkness from the duardin holds, and he, Norbrum Proudsong, would make sure this prophecy was fulfilled. Grundal-Thrynaz, personal guard of King Rungi
  25. hello how are you I have come to show my first kharadron overlord, first the flying dwarves(skywardens), without more than saying let's go. constructive and destructive criticisms are accepted
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