Orc & Gob projects: Painting, Kitbashes & Scratchbuilds
Feb 21, 2021 20:54:10 GMT
mottdon, Sweet_Totally, and 3 more like this
Post by padre on Feb 21, 2021 20:54:10 GMT
Orc/goblin baggage/loot wagon
This is a kitbashed baggage wagon as featured in the Tilea Campaign Part 3 story: Interlude, The Greenskin Corsairs.
I didn’t take any WIP pictures, but here you can see it from different angles. The greenskins are very old, very basic, Citadel plastics. The wagon a Tomb Kings chariot which they have ‘fixed up’ a bit (presumably looted after a battle, or found abandoned, or stolen from some other greenskins, or … who am I kidding, there must be thousands of possible ways they might have obtained it!?).
If I was working on it now I would've made their hands clasp the poles better, but back then I wasn't really bothered by such fiddly details!
Here's a section from a story featuring this particular model ...
As ever, they were the last to arrive at the camp. When the mules were alive they were always behind the rest of the mob. Now the beasts had been eaten - the very marrow sucked from their bones and all agreed very nice it was too - they were just that little bit further back. Toggler knew Hafdi had to do most of the heavy work, but without Toggler’s constant encouragement they would never reach the camp each night at all. Hafdi, not the brightest of orcs (and that’s saying something considering the level of wit possessed by your average orc) was easily distracted. For an hour he had been complaining about his swollen toe.
“It’s not just ‘urtin, it’s itchin’ too!” said Hafdi.
“Well,” sighed Toggler, “pull a bit faster an’ we’ll get where we’re goin’ an’ then you can get to scratching.”
“I in’t gonna scratch at it, not when it ‘urts this much.”
Not for the first time today, Toggler rolled his eyes. “That, my big toed friend, is what you call a dilemma.”
Hafdi stopped, so suddenly that Doodo the snot nearly fell from the front of the wagon. The orc looked confused, more-so than usual.
“You talkin’ to my toe?” he asked.
Toggler had no idea where this new nonsense came from. “What’ya mean, talkin’ to yer toe?”
“You just said he was your friend, and told him about the dilella.”
“’Dilemma’” corrected the goblin. “The word’s ‘dilemma’, ain’t that right Doodo?”
“Go faster. Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!” shouted the snot, as he always did.
“Come on, Toe,” said Toggler, “It ain’t much further. You can bring Hafdi along too.”
Hafdi’s pained expression vanished to be replaced by a grin. “You is talkin' to my toe!”
Hefting the pole, and once again nearly tipping Doodo the snot over (he never learned), they set off for the final stretch ...
… passing by the camp’s outermost sewed-skin tents. There a bunch of Poglin Fangface’s goblins were gathered around a trestle table they had dragged from a woodsman’s hut nearby. Upon the table lay a murderous looking five-barreled pistol ...
This is a kitbashed baggage wagon as featured in the Tilea Campaign Part 3 story: Interlude, The Greenskin Corsairs.
I didn’t take any WIP pictures, but here you can see it from different angles. The greenskins are very old, very basic, Citadel plastics. The wagon a Tomb Kings chariot which they have ‘fixed up’ a bit (presumably looted after a battle, or found abandoned, or stolen from some other greenskins, or … who am I kidding, there must be thousands of possible ways they might have obtained it!?).
If I was working on it now I would've made their hands clasp the poles better, but back then I wasn't really bothered by such fiddly details!
Here's a section from a story featuring this particular model ...
As ever, they were the last to arrive at the camp. When the mules were alive they were always behind the rest of the mob. Now the beasts had been eaten - the very marrow sucked from their bones and all agreed very nice it was too - they were just that little bit further back. Toggler knew Hafdi had to do most of the heavy work, but without Toggler’s constant encouragement they would never reach the camp each night at all. Hafdi, not the brightest of orcs (and that’s saying something considering the level of wit possessed by your average orc) was easily distracted. For an hour he had been complaining about his swollen toe.
“It’s not just ‘urtin, it’s itchin’ too!” said Hafdi.
“Well,” sighed Toggler, “pull a bit faster an’ we’ll get where we’re goin’ an’ then you can get to scratching.”
“I in’t gonna scratch at it, not when it ‘urts this much.”
Not for the first time today, Toggler rolled his eyes. “That, my big toed friend, is what you call a dilemma.”
Hafdi stopped, so suddenly that Doodo the snot nearly fell from the front of the wagon. The orc looked confused, more-so than usual.
“You talkin’ to my toe?” he asked.
Toggler had no idea where this new nonsense came from. “What’ya mean, talkin’ to yer toe?”
“You just said he was your friend, and told him about the dilella.”
“’Dilemma’” corrected the goblin. “The word’s ‘dilemma’, ain’t that right Doodo?”
“Go faster. Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!” shouted the snot, as he always did.
“Come on, Toe,” said Toggler, “It ain’t much further. You can bring Hafdi along too.”
Hafdi’s pained expression vanished to be replaced by a grin. “You is talkin' to my toe!”
Hefting the pole, and once again nearly tipping Doodo the snot over (he never learned), they set off for the final stretch ...
… passing by the camp’s outermost sewed-skin tents. There a bunch of Poglin Fangface’s goblins were gathered around a trestle table they had dragged from a woodsman’s hut nearby. Upon the table lay a murderous looking five-barreled pistol ...
