Tuesday, 30 April 2013

Darkness of The Night: Dark Elves will get Empire Village Children not in bed !

The Boogeyman come to Hagerndorf...

On Anzac day the Boogeyman visited Hagerndorf, a small hamlet just outside the city walls of Hagern-Dasz, the famed Ice-cream producing town of the Empire.

A Hackseer cruise from the Dark Elf City of Tor Clairol came visiting. On board was the young Highborn Noble Frozdik Hellescorn. The youngest son of the Master of Tor Clairol, out on a quest for slaves and bounty. The Hackseer cruise was to establish himself as a corsair, in every way as cruel and unrelenting as his father.

His father, Scalpslasher Hellescorn , Master of the Tower of Clairol, personally girded him with the Armour of Darkness, and placed the throbbing haft of  the Crimson Death in his hand before he left. 

He looked towards his grandmother, the Crone Hellebron, who was just boarding the sleek Family Corsair Ark, gently bobbing on the incoming tide, its prow sleek with the blood of the slaves sacrificed to Khaine to bless the journey. Her ancient frame was again filled to that of a beauty in her prime by the energy and blood that she had just spilled in the dedication ceremony. Khaine seemed to be pleased. 

The Crone turned on the gangplank, looked back at her favoured son and eager grandson, who had only last week come of age. She hurried down to her state-room, followed by her retinue of Witch-elves, her eyes burning in anticipation of the further bloodshed to come.

The Master Scalpslasher watched the Corsair Ark slip into the night, and hurried back to his tower, rubbing his hands together. Fresh blood! Fresh Slaves! Fresh Scalps! Tor Clairol has grown rich on the trade in hair extensions made from the pale hair of the citizens of the Northern Empire Cities.

 It seemed that the Dark Elves just could not get enough of the fashion for Slaves with fair hair, and of the hair extensions made from their freshly harvested scalps. 

He looked up at the banner bearing the City's motto, snapping in the stiff breeze.
He smiled:
"Tor Clairol: Creates your locks!"


Just before dawn. Shades appear out of the forest. The Empire seems asleep.

In the darkness before dawn, outside of Hagerndorf, two Shade warbands appeared at the edge of the forest. In front of them the hamlet of Hagendorf laid asleep. The lights in the watchtower had grown dim. They smirked at each other: "Easy pickings!"

They saw the Ark glide up to the silvery beach, its sails all but invisible in the dark. Dark shapes spilled out onto the sand. They could make out the Sea Dragon cloaks of the corsairs, with the young highborn strutting ahead of the formation, his magic armour glowing a dull purple in the darkness. The Old Master of Tor Clairol had not lied. There really was going to be slaughter tonight!

Druchii Ark unloading witches and Bolt-thrower

They silently watched as the Dark Elves unloaded a Repeater Bolt-thrower and a regiment of Tor Clairol Crossbowmen. The two repeater bolt-thrower druchii were bent under the weight of their giant repeater crossbow. The deftly assembled it and waited for the signal.

 Last to join the assault party was two sorceresses, and a cavorting unit of Hag-witches, surrounding a Hag Queen, and what could only be the deceptively curvaceous shape of the Crone Hellebron.

Druchii Repeater Crossbows

Assaulting the Watch Tower

The Druchii party silently slid up to the base of the watch-tower. The Crone and her party headed towards the gates of Hagern-Dasz. The Level two sorceress stepped forward, eager to unleash the power of darkness on the sleeping empire forces. "Eliminate the guards in the Tower!" came the Order from the Highborn. The sorceresses called on the winds of magic. Ten! plus one for the seal of Grond! An Arc of magic fire rose from one of the sorceresses, instantly reducing WS, BS, and Int of the defenders to 1. irresistable force! Magic Feedback, and both sorceresses lay writhing on the ground, leaching a wound each

The corsairs and repeater crossbow men let fly a fury of bolts, but the stone ramparts of the tower and the extreme range protect the watchmen, and only 3 fall to the Druchii bolts. The defenders return fire, and 2 Corsairs crumple to the ground.

Meanwhile the corsairs sneak closer to the sleeping village, intent on destroying the menacing shape of a Hellblaster Volley gun parked in the middle of the square. An alarm trumpet is sounded. Lights flicker on all over the village, torches are lit in the castle. The Noble is dismayed. "We've lost the element of surprise!"

"Take the tower!" He shouted. "Use your damn magic!" He shouted at the sorceresses. "Watch your mouth, young Hellescorn! You are not the Master yet!" she sneered. 8 on the winds - I'll show him! " Pit of Shades! I'll drag them all to their Doom!" Another Arc of blue light, Nooooooo! Magic feedback again !

 "It's not suppose to end this way!" She crumpled, even as she heard the screams of the tower guards being dragged down into the netherworld. The corsairs couldn't distinguish whose cries we the loudest: The Nordland defenders or those of the dying sorceress and her acolyte.

And then the Druchii had magicks no more...

Infuriated by the loss of their sorceresses the attackers scaled the tower,  hacked the defenders to pieces and stopped just short of a crazed bunch of flagellants who stormed out of the Sigmarite shrine. "The End is neigh!" crowed the prophet of doom at their head. " Too right it is!" shouted the Druchii Noble "I spit on your Sigmar! Taste Druchii Steel!"

Having cleared the Tower of guards, the Druchii attack

Handbows unleashed a rain of death on the Flagellants, but this drove them crazier still, they advanced on the Druchii like a tidal wave, flails rising and falling, smashing Druchii bodies in their path, sacrificing numbers of their own to attain greater religious  fervor.

 A vain-glorious bright  wizard stumbled out of one of the hovels, and unleashed  a fireball on the Corsairs, 7 of their number burnt to cinders in seconds. The crossbow men turned him into a porcupine.

Seeing this the Warrior Priest thought it best to seek shelter in a unit of militiamen, who were charging up to support the flagellants decimating the numbers of the corsairs. "Thats it boys! Let the looneys kill most of them. I'll bolster you with my battle prayers! Don't worry!"

Empire Wizard becomes a porcupine

Ersatz Flagellants (Executioners masquerading as...) clashing with the Corsairs

Suddenly the last flagellant fell, frenzied with blood lust, the Corsairs overran into the militia. The Noble stepped out of the throng of Corsairs. His hour had come! Time to make a name for himself!

The shaft of Crimson Death glowed a dull red in his hands. His armour glistened with flagellant blood and Khaines blessings. "Who dares oppose me? I claim all the inhabitants of this village as slaves in the name of My Father, Scalpslasher Hellescorn, Master of Tor Clairol!"

 The Warrior Priest stepped forward, a war hammer in each hand: 
 "Over my dead body! Be gone, in the Name of Sigmar! You shall take no-one here alive! "


"So be it!" Sneered the Highborn. In a movement, too fast for the Priest to even register, Crimson Death carved a red furrow across the Priest's neck, exposing the flesh to the white of the bone below.

His warhammers dropped from his lifeless hands, clattering on the ground, almost in time to the thump of his severed bald head. The head rolled across the cobbles, sightless eyes staring up at the terrified militiamen. Then the corsairs were upon them.

Reiksguard Knights, Cream of the Empire. About to get whipped 

The Reiksguard knights burst from the gates of Hargen-Dasz, heading straight for the Witch-Elves, thinking them a soft target. Druchii Bolt-thrower unleashed bolts into them, as did the crossbowmen, dropping a few knights. Then they were in contact. A wisp of a girl stepped forward. "I issue a challenge!"
The Battle Standard Bearer spurred his horse forward.
"Leave this to me boys! I'll teach them to send pretty girls up against Men of the Empire! My horse will trample her into the ground. I will not even have to un-sheath my swor..."

BSB: Leave her to me, boys!

What the? Hey! 

He stared in disbelief at the length of gleaming druchii steel that now protruded from the centre of his chest.  It had penetrated right through his armour. Then he felt the heat of poison coursing through his body.

His sword was still in its scabbard, his lance on its rest. "But, but I had a 2+ armour save...."

He felt his horse collapse beneath him. The battle standard fell into the dust from his lifeless mailed fist. 
He did not hear the victorious cackle of the ancient crone's blood-lust, nor see her lick the blood from her dripping magic weapon, as she watched her witch-elves swarm all over the terrified knights.

The Crone Triumphant

Last of the Knights, fleeing from the girls

" Pretty girls indeed! ... the Brides of Khaine." She watched with satisfaction as the last remaining knight was run in from behind, and let out a satisfied howl as the little witch-elf jumped onto the back of the fleeing horse and the last knight succumbed to a flurry of poisoned stab-wounds.

" Now for their General!"  she shrieked "Find him! Khaine wants his blood! ... and I want his head!"

The Empire General finally awoke from his slumber, and rushed to join his halberdiers

The Empire General finally emerged from his billet, and raced across the square to join his halberdiers. 
They all (including the General) all appeared slightly groggy. The night before they must have imbibed in too much of Bugman's Best Ale...or did the shades poison them?

A thunderclap and roll  of gun-volleys. The Empire gunners had made it to their hellblaster ! 

One unit of Shades was cut to shreds, but 2 shades made it into contact, the gunners falling to their swift blades. They were still crowing about their achievement when they in turn were killed by the empire archers, who had now appeared on the roof of the blacksmith. Pretty gutsy, with another unit of shades about!

                                                         Hey, you, get off my cannon!


Only 3 Corsairs standing: Noble, BSB and Champion, with flagellants 
flagellating away at them, sacrificing martyrs as they go...

Crone: "The General next! Get him!"

Militaia men vaulting a wall to intercept the Shades
The Crone shrieks: "Stop them from getting to my girls!"

Empire troops  about to feel the force of the Witch Elves

Excuse me, sir, General, 
Is that Death watching over your shoulder?

It appears so.

I'm getting out of here... Sexy girls or not... Too much for me.
The last militiaman standing runs for the Castle

General Dead.... In full view of his troops too. 
Didn't even strike a blow. What are we to do?

Wizard and 2 militiamen, about to die.

The second group of militiamen had found courage from somewhere. Boosted by the wizard and lore of life, they stood firm against the dwindling number of corsairs, reducing their number to 3. The DE champion, BSB and Noble remained. Then there was just the nobleman;  3 on one. But what a Druchii hero!

 Years of training,  and superior skill, armoura and weaponry paid off: 3 attacks, 3 dead. 
The Noble surveyed the carnage. Around him lay the dead, empire and druchii alike piled knee-high. 

He was the last man standing. A true Druchii, now fully blooded in battle!

Across the square he saw the final events of the battle unfold.
The Empire General made exactly the same mistake the BSB did: Underestimated the Crone.
Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was suicide.

She challenged: She stepped forward.
He stepped forward.
He went down. Never even got to raise his weapon
Never had a chance.

The Druchii Lord smirked.
...Grandma is such a bitch!

The witches were now unstoppable. 2 fell to the Empire halberds. As they went down the formed a bridge for their sisters to run across, who then rained poisoned attacks with hatred and frenzy on the startled empire soldiers. A group of militia sought to attack them from the rear, but were slaughtered short of one man by the frustrated witches in the back rank. They couldn't get in on the fun, and were only too delighted when they were charged from behind. A single Empire Militia survivor fled the battlefield.

The will to fight had now left the brave Men of the Empire.
The remaining halberdiers and archers were rounded up, along with the civilians, men and womenfolk and children of the village alike, and herded into the ark in chains.
The citizens of the  fortified town of Hagern-Dazs huddled behind fortified gates fearing that the druchii may turn their attention to them next.

The sun was red in the sky. Dawn had broken.
"It is time to leave!" Shouted the gleeful Hackseer. " Everyone to the ark! Bring the captives!"

The Crone cavorted over to the smiling young druchii nobleman.
She smeared the general's blood onto his forehead and nose.

"My Grandson! Priest-slasher Hellescorn!" she cried out.
"Khaine is well pleased! I am well pleased! Your father will be well pleased"
"Not a single hand laid on us in a challenge today!"



Monday, 22 April 2013

Knightly Orders: The Parrots of Doom

The Order of the Parrots of Doom

So Sam's challenge to actually paint my Demi-griffs as parrots set me a-thinking. 
And a-researching.

It appears that there actually exists a little known Order of Knights in the Warhammer World, that few know of, and even fewer dare speak of:


My sources advise me that this little-known order has Chapters in each and every one of the Empire's Provinces. The Elector Counts will  only call on them in the most dire of times, and only when all other Knightly Orders, including the Reiksguard Knights have failed.

It is said that the Order of the Parrot of Doom was created after the Emperor sent a ship full of knights from Marienburg  to combat the increasing hazard poised by an influx of pirates from Buccanalia. The Pirates of Buccanalia were solidly defeated by a single charge of these daring knights, then equipped with warhorses and lances. They have never dared come near the Empire ever again.

The Emperor rewarded these brave knights for their martial prowess  by creating a new Knightly Order: 
The Order of the Parrots of Doom

For their diligent service the surviving knights, and their Grand Master, Paul E Wantzacraker, were allowed to try and mount and control one of the Emperor's rarest creatures, the Parrot-griff. 

Those that survived the ordeal, and gained the trust and respect of these vicious creatures, were allowed to join the order, and claim the parrot-griff as their personal mount. The ones that didn't, oh well....

Many a survivor carry the scars of those razor-sharp beaks. Beaks that can crack nuts. Many survivors walk in an awkward way. Oh well...

So came I to the famed Parrot-griffs: 

I mulled over my two armies, the Armies of Nordland and Talabecland/Talabheim. I mulled on the multitude of livery and colours of the Empire's heraldry, and on my initial knee-jerk reach for snot green and blood red. 

No, that just would not do! Only proper research would lead me on how to paint my Parrot-griffs!

    The Stirland River Patrol Parrot-Griff ?

The Nordland Parrot-Griff?

Marienburg Parrot-Griff?

Parrot-Griffs of Talabecland, Hochland, Ostland, Wissenland and Altdorf ?

The wise Parrot-Griffs of the Elector Counts of Nordland and Middenheim 
at rest outside the Imperial Palace ?

The Ancient Parrot-griff of Wissenland ?

So, did all this research make me any the wiser?

I am sad to say, no matter how I tried I could not get myself to paint a Parrot-griff

So what is so wrong with the Parrot-griff ?

The Jaw-dropping answer:

 Observe, dear Watson:

Enough said !

So I'm painting my Demi-griffs something along the lines of a Bald Eagle or an African Fish Eagle:

 Bald Eagle

African Fish Eagle

Martial Eagle

 Thought I'd share this with you.
 I now declare my parrot rant officially closed. 
Or is it...