Greetings! In this log I'll record my painting, sculpting and converting of everything that's not part of my eldar army. Here you'll see mini's that I do for painting competitions or just for fun.
Beware that updates may be very random and far in between.
Anyway, to get it started: picture in your mind a gathering of weary travelers standing on a slow rise overlooking a muddy road leading up to the gates of a foreboding citygate...
“Through squinting eyes Reinholdt gazed into the shadows cast by the archway that in times long gone by had formed a grand entrance into the city. Now the wooden gates were gone, only splinters littering the ground outside the passage. Curious, that. Not often do you see doors breached in such a violent fassion from within…
Satisfied at last that nothing moved in the gloom, Reinholdt paused to regard his companions.
To his left the wizened form of Wulf, muttering under his breath while he stopped his pipe. Aye, muttering in that incomprehensible language of his, a sure sign if anything of him being half mad. But only half. Reinholdt couldn’t think of anyone better to have at his side when things got dirty. He had already lost track of the number of times Wulf had saved them both with his uncanny marksmanship, his aim, sure eyes and steady hands belying his trembling, aged appearance.
To the right, and slightly behind Reinholdt paced the priest, Lothar. Ever restless, from time to time breaking out in fits of holy ecstasy, voicing his praise to Sigmar in piercing cries that sometimes carried over into hysterical laughter or rough coughs. Though they had traveled together for months Reinhold still flinched at the sound of the priests outbursts, and he doubted that he would ever get used to them.
From behind the small group, still some way down the road but fast approaching, Reinholdt could hear the cackling of the rabble they had collected throughout the journey. Peasants, farmers, beggars, the scum of the earth. Men who had lost everything they held dear, victims of a cruel world, abbandoned, lost to despair – and thus easily manipulated. In Reinholdt and his company they had found a sliver of hope, a thin thread to hold on to, a path to… what? Repentance? Salvation? Reinholdt surpressed a sudden laugh. Salvation indeed.
They where tools for him to use. What did he care for their souls? His was a greater cause, that of cleansing this world from the taint of chaos. If these zealots and madmen where willing to help him achieve this, if only by dying for him – what did their motives matter? Let them rave about cleansing fire, the rightous smiting in the name of Sigmar, let them went their despair in bursts of violence. After all, does the blacksmith ask for the motives of his sledgehammer as he pounds the hot iron? No? No.
Pushing such thoughts from his mind Reinholdt signaled to his companions to follow him. The end of their journey was near and, easing his massive sword in it's straps on his back, Reinholdt pushed through the shadows under the gates of Mordheim.”
Yes, that's right - the beginning of a Witch Hunters warband. I doubt I'll ever get to play with them, but the imagery of Mordheim is very strong and inspirational, and I have been thinking about putting together a warband for a long time. Almost every member of the band will be heavily converted, all plastic.
Here are the first four members of the warband, very WIP. Almost nothing is glued together yet, and they all await extensive green stuffing. From left to right: Captain Reinholdt, witch hunter Wulf, flagellant with great weapon, the warrior priest Lothar.
Feel free to comment!