Television is rather a frightening business. But I get all the relaxation I want from my collection of model soldiers.
Peter Cushing

Saturday 27 May 2017

Slough Feg, Drune Lord of the Bone Orchard

The tribes of the far north live in endless shadow and mist. The Faceless fight, bringing home trophies of their victims; the Skald lead them to war, when war is required; and the cheiftans make the decisions day to day. But who choses the victims; who declares the wars; who swears the cheiftans to their dark oaths?

The Drune Lords tend the Bone Orchards. The Drune Lords summon forth the spirits of the cold winds of change. The Drune Lords speak for the dead; the Drune Lords speak to the dark; the Drune Lords speak, and the Faceless follow.

The most feared of the them in the Drune Lord Slough Feg.

This was a major construction job. He's made of bits of undead - skeleton and zombie, nurgle daemon, dryad and a lot of green stuff sculpting.

Here you can see the basic construction of plastic bits:

And here's the extra sculpted details:

The painting was a mixture of glazes and washes over a grey wood effect to create an organic, messy feel.

And final touchups and the basing:

And here he is with the rest of his tribe...

He came out close to how I envisaged - if no-one's spotted the inspiration yet, Slough Feg is from Slaine in 2000AD;

I think I managed to get the right feel.

This project feels like it's drawing to a natural end; I have another couple of Slough Drune Lords I have images in my head for and then something with the Bone Orchards themselves and then it will be on to pastures new. 

Wednesday 24 May 2017

The Skald

In the far north of the Realm of Shadows, winds carry mists and flurries of snow through long ruined cities. The wind teases a mournful tune from the shattered remnants of a lost civilisation; but there are more than ruins here. There are relics of great power for those that have the will to use them.

The warriors of this ancient place wore armour which somehow bound itself to them; it granted strength and protection but allowed the wearer to move lightly, swift of foot. None alive today know how to craft these suits, nor even how the original wearers bonded with the metal. But the Drune Lords found a way.

The strongest of the Faceless, the ones who have fed the Bone Orchards well with the remains of their enemies, are granted the chance to undetake the Ordeal of Iron. They are led to darkest groves where the Drune Lord strip them of their trophies and their clothes; and then they are presented with the armour. The armour has been in the fire for three days and glows a sooty red. It is placed onto the new warrior and, as the red hot armours sears and strips the flesh from his frame, they are both doused in water. When the hissing steam is gone, swallowed by the eternal mists, most of the warriors are dead. But some live, sealed screaming into the armour, bound to it, a steel sarcophagus seared into their flesh.

They are the Skald.

And they march to war.

These are the last of the Khornate chaps from the Sigmar starter set, converted to add some more muscle to my little Barbarian project. The idea came before the painting, so the conversions seemed pretty clear. The armour had to be old, rusty and tarnished. Their flesh needed to be raw and blistered, looking wet and painful. I also knew I needed to remove the ridiculous headgear. The only one I wasn't able to remove the whole thing from I added some hair to utilise what was left. 

Painting was very easy as it was largely just the armour: 

I added some checkered patterns to tie in with the others. Overall I'm very happy with these. 

Saturday 20 May 2017

In the far north of the Realm of Shadows where the winds of change howl through ancient stones and the ruins of long gone cities, savage tribes swear dark oaths to secret powers. They each have their role.

The Drune Lords tend the Bone Orchards; the Skald, sealed screaming into their moving sarcophagi, lead the war parties; and the Cheiftans manage the day to day business of the tribe...  The lowest of their kind forswear their identities as only the strongest are allowed to claim a name.

Until then they are known by the trophies of their enemies, skulls and bones and teeth driven into their own flesh, trophies bound to themselves with chains and hooks. Many an unwary traveller's final sight has been the blank unfeeling helm staring down upon them as their skin is flayed from their flesh....

The lowest of them are known as The Faceless.

I've really enjoyed discovering these chaps as I've made them; the first couple established the palette and the style. The last three allowed me to develop the idea a bit more.

For this chap there was very little conversion; just removing the Khornate details and the silly horns.

I was curious as to what was under those blank helmets. This one, I swapped the head out for one of the stitched up heads used as trophies from the Nurgle Plaguebearers kit. I added some ritual wounds and then sunk the brass rod into the back to mount some more grisly trophies. I suspect this chap is close to being granted a name and moving up the hierarchy. 

And finally this one, again, very little conversion; just removed the details from the helmet and added a ritual wound and some pseudo tentacles. 

Overall I am very happy with the feel and a look of these chaps, especially when compared to the original, untouched sculpts:

I think there's still more to explore with this culture. I have an idea for the warrior and the priest caste. So expect more on this...