There can be only one winner

No, this is not pre-game smack-talk as the next games day for my chaos warband draws closer, but rather the distressed cry (with proper hot tears) of my tired four year old at the end of our first ever game of "Key to the Kingdom" this evening.

Not waving but drowning

Too much marking, not enough time for geeking. Sadness....

Back in Blighty

Salve, amica!

No geeking for the last week or so because I've been leading my first school trip abroad. The wonders of ancient Rome was our target, and we did pretty well - four cities and a volcano in five days. I am officially broken!

Rab

Colosseum

Dome of the Pantheon

Temples at Paestum

Street in Pompeii

Temple of the Augustales in Herculaneum

The top of Vesuvius; can you spot the whisps of smoke?

Aliens

Nope, not Giger face-hugger types or their imitators *cough*genestealers*cough*, but some new and shiny sculpts cast before us all as an Indiegogo project. These are from the talented putty-pushing fingers of Pierre-Francois Jacquet ("PF" online) who has been whipping up a delightfully motley band of non-humans in moderate carapace armour and blasters. It's almost as if he set out to produce a Rogue Trader pirate band...

It's almost enough to tip me over into sci-fi, along with the fun that is obviously being had by other Oldhammerers when they swap their shields and hand weapons for bolters and lasguns (Erny and Whiskey Priest, I'm looking at you!).

Pictures:

They're multi-part with two alternate heads per model for maximum flexibility

Indiegogo link:

Blog link:

http://15mmspaceopera.blogspot.fr/search/label/New%20federation%20project

Toys for the toy god!

Sorry, Chico, the title of this post was far too good not to steal at some point!

Well, I've been having a bit of a high-production phase for painting, collecting and even gaming. A veritable purple patch, and here's the latest recruit for Dankpelt's warband, another boar-man.

I've no idea what range he's from, or what year - the tab had no legible marks on it and the sculpt is a little rough in places, particularly across the back of his left shoulder where the cloth of his tunic meets his fur/bristles. Originally he was weaponless so I opened up his hand and gave him a spare sword I got in the parcel when I got the lovely larger scale gladiators a while back (they're still languishing in little individually labelled griplock bags, sadly. One day!), and Bob's your uncle.

Still a bit shiny from the washes - that'll go when I varnish, I hope.

I've got three more I need to paint up to give me the six I need for the unit of tzangors (Nurgle-hating, Tzeentch-aligned beastmen) that I rolled up on the retinue table - we each made a roll to accelerate warband growth and give us more tactical options ahead of our next games day which will probably be in the Easter hols. I decided to spread my collecting wings a little further for these, rather than pathetically moping around ebay and forums looking for RoC era Citadel beastmen, and picked up the group below as part of a larger order from Viking Forge in the USA. These are old Asgard sculpts, so new-old-oldhammer, if you like. Or something. Anyway, they are suitably varied in appearance which seemed fitting for followers of the god of change and fits in nicely with my desire for as varied a set of figures as possible:

Half term shenanigans

Two days in a row, now, I've carefully newspapered over the dining table, swathed both #1 and #2 sons in a wipe-clean apron (Gruffalo and Sailing ship designs) and settled down to an hour or so of painting miniatures!

It hasn't been without its challenges - perpetual requests to clean brushes or provide a new colour or to clean up a spillage (don't tell the wife!) - but the rewards have been great. Both boys are now actively seeking time to geek and are taking pride in their not-quite-Golden-Demon-quality paint jobs. Give them time, though, and they may even be mentioned in the same breath as Nico, Jaeckel, Spooktalker or "Paint Splats" Steve, for example*.

A little way to go yet, but #1 (6 years old) is getting neater and wants to try layering and patterned shields:

#2 son (nearly 4) likes drybrushing and chaotic colour schemes:

These are their photos - very proud little boys!

In amongst that I even got another beastman finished, as well as the rider for the Oldhammer Knight project, but that's for another post. I was very satisfied by our shared enjoyment and so glad I'd kept those plastic LotR figures for just such an occasion!

The last bit of father-sons geekery was an opportunistic purchase this morning (two whole pounds!) from the hospice charity stall in the market of this:

I'd never even heard of this before, but it has a modular map, item cards, monster cards and player/super-villain figures - apart from a slightly scuffed box, it is pristine. It seems to be trying to be something halfway between an early D&D boardgame and Heroquest.... but with much more of a "luck" element. Here is the designer's page, if you're interested. I'll give it a shot some time with the boys.

Got to go, it's bathtime - wish me luck!
Rab



*Other outstanding Oldhammer painters are available; these were the four most recent on my internet history list. No offence meant, chaps, if I left you out!

The Grand Coward of Khorne

Tony Ackland, the chaos artist

"Are you right-sure? The stunted night-face is in this man-stone-cave?" Dankpelt simply growled and the albino slunk away. Rain dripped from the end of his snout as he pulled the stolen cloak tighter around him, maintaining his disguise. They had been led here to put an end to a dwarven champion of Khorne, but the half-height had already been captured by the herd-leader of the man-things. So they had killed (and eaten!) the guards and, wrapping themselves in their cloaks, taken their place near the gate. 

The waiting was starting to cause trouble, though, and there might be a challenge soon if he wasn't able to give them a victory. Dankpelt sighed fretfully, knowing it had to be soon if he was going to keep this small warband together long enough to raise true havoc for Tzeentch.

The screaming from inside the fort put an end to such thoughts. Finally! He threw aside his cloak and bellowed for his herd to follow. On, on for glory, on for Tzeentch, on for Dankpelt Goretusk!

The courtyard was rapidly emptying of man-things and Dankpelt saw that his was not the only herd there. The stench of Khorne was flowing outwards from the group in the middle of the cobbled space. A group of female-cultists of a weak man-god were tearing at their robes, snout and horn and fur and claws revealed at last! Dankpelt heard the bellowed challenge of his warband, shouting his name. His herd in truth; now for the blooding. And there, praise be to the Changing One, was Night-face! All his foes placed before him, and they were ready to lock horn-tooth-claw.

A head-sized ball of pink flame flashed past him towards the foe, scorching the fur of one and causing it to yelp like a pup. Battle was joined....

The ineffability of Tzeentch

Bruchvir lay in the dust and the dark, coughing blood, racked by mortal agony.

It had started perfectly. The information from the spiteful leatherworker had been correct and Bruchvir had led his followers into their meeting place and slaughtered the vile followers of decay. Then they had waited in the shadows for the true target of their Master's ire - a be-tentacled Champion of Nurgle and his small band. The trap had been sprung, Tzeentch's fire had sprung from the Being within his blade, the enemy champion had himself fallen. Victory! And yet....

Bruchvir coughed again, weakly this time but the pain coursed through him from the wound in his side nonetheless. His mind ranged rapidly, images flickering and fading before him. He was Bruen again, sculptor's apprentice, happy at his work. The first man he had killed. The look on Adrienne's face as she turned his proposal down. Running through the forest. Taking over the warband from that fool who had begun to gibber and ooze. The old man from the university who had seen him rejected and offered his help. His joy at the screams from Adrienne's wedding to, to... no, the name was gone. Being chased from the city, accused of witchcraft, devilry. Weeping as he watched families gathering for the Spring festival, knowing he could never join them, marked by Tzeentch. A boy again. 

The next cough did not hurt at all, peace was coming. Bruchvir was Bruen again and he would have peace.

Then he felt/heard the Voice. If his blade had sung, this was every creature that ever lived in a choir that could not be unheard.

"Not. Yet."

This is your captain speaking

Perhaps the main thing that makes blogging worthwhile (alongside the diary, motivation and narcissistic self-publishing elements, of course) is knowing that people look at the photos of my "little men", read what I write and enjoy both sufficiently to pass comment. That fifty-six (!) of you have chosen to follow this blog so as not to miss a single moment of my published hobby adventuring is deeply gratifying. Thank you, and welcome to those of you who recently joined.

Rab

The path to glory starts here

I have finished my starting warband for the RoC narrative campaign that Chris and I are kicking off next Saturday. Yes, that's finished* a project, which is unusual for me - see the header to this blog!

The fifth member of the crew does double duty for my determination to make this band as chaotic as possible; it is not only not a Citadel miniature (of any vintage - it's Grenadier) but it isn't actually a beastman (it's a hairy orc)!

I tried to go for an albino-inspired colour theme: white fur with a bit of pink added to the base coat (although I think I've lost that with later washes), and pink-hued skin, blending to very pale flesh while keeping a contrast with the fur. The shield was moulded on and has given me the warband symbol nicely. I will use the same image on any other shields I need to paint, mainly because it's easy and will give a coherency to disparate models.