And Then Dice Happened: 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.