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Post by wilsonthenarc on Sept 29, 2017 13:39:15 GMT
DEMON PRINCE!!! This is my guy, D.P. of Tzeentch. Pretty much a stock GW 40K Demon Prince kit, except I took the head off a Bones Bugbear to make him look like the "wise old owl" version of a Demon Prince. Plus, I added some chains, plus (not pictured) a cool custom Tzeentchian shield. Very Excited to run this guy in a few games. Flyer? Fast? Thunderstomp? Yes. Yes. Yes.
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Post by wilsonthenarc on Sept 29, 2017 13:39:35 GMT
I bought these guys cause they looked cool! They're Bones (notice a trend yet?) miniatures. To me, they look like ogre sized FishMen. I want to call them Koi-Gor. i.e. Koi fish that got mutated and kinda sorta human... and then got big and scary.
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Post by wilsonthenarc on Sept 29, 2017 13:39:56 GMT
Just a cool mini. Source unknown. He's an infantry sized Tengu. Most likely use him as a unit champ. Maybe as a Wargor in low point games. Just a half man, half beast, half bird dude on foot.
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Post by wilsonthenarc on Sept 29, 2017 13:40:14 GMT
Wackiness! These are full blown oddity custom conversions. The bodies are WizKids minis I bought and didn't love.... I carved out the heads, used some green stuff, and put in Tzaangor heads. The arms are stock GW beastmen Gor bitz, except I also dove in my bitz box and found some old metal Katanas. Drilled some holes in the fists, inserted Katanas... feel like it came out OK. These 2 will most likely represent Level 1 or 2 Beast Shamans. Most likely in Storm of Magic games where I need to keep track of a bunch of casters with different lores. i.e. my normal Bray Shaman will be Lore of Beasts and these 2 will be Level 1 Death, or something like that. Again, these minis are supposed to look like Tengus. Mini Tengu theme. Except these ones are white birds instead of yellow and orange. I assume white bird-men would be the magic users. No idea why I did assume that, but it sounds plausible.
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Post by mottdon on Sept 29, 2017 14:00:11 GMT
I bought these guys cause they looked cool! They're Bones (notice a trend yet?) miniatures. To me, they look like ogre sized FishMen. I want to call them Koi-Gor. i.e. Koi fish that got mutated and kinda sorta human... and then got big and scary. I like these guys! They'd make great River Trolls!
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Post by Naitsabes on Sept 29, 2017 16:09:45 GMT
log is back with a vengeance! The turtle dragon chariot is going to be great. I also like the katana wizard conversions. It's all about faces. Put awesome detailed heads on a mediocre body and you end up with a good looking mini.
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Post by wilsonthenarc on Oct 8, 2017 13:47:42 GMT
From the Transcripts of the Court of the Celestial Dragon Emperor of Cathay, long may he reign. Circa Year 2357 of the reckoning of The Empire.
"Listen close, for you are about to hear the tale of the magnificent Dragon Emperor and of the Third Hobgoblin Wars of 2300. And how our benevolent ruler answered three sperate threats with the greatest of intelligence. My tale begins in the year 2999, in the Autumn. It was an abundant summer and a bountiful harvest season. Our small village, Hong-Tzaay, was prosperous as I had never seen, being a lad of only 15 summers. The livestock grew almost comically fat, the squashes were the largest and brightest ever seen, and the grain hang heavy with weight in the fields. Perhaps my sons and daughters, it was all too bountiful.
It began on the first day of the tenth month that year. I was in the fields with my brothers, it was the second day of grain harvest. The alarm went up. Ringing bells. Within moments, we saw them. Mounted Hobgoblin raiders by the hundred. With spear and shield and evil curved daggers. But how, we all thought? Our village was safely behind the Great Bastion of the adored Dragon Emperor. That wall was many, many bricks thick and many, many bricks high. These simple greenskins had never been over the wall. Treachery? We did not have the luxury of time to consider. We grabbed whatever implements we held and braced ourselves to fight dearly. My young fingers clenched a scythe, and my knuckles went white.
But we were not to have a fight that day. The Hobgoblins reigned their slavering wolves to the south and were gone. Leaving only a cloud of dust and a reeking stench. Cowards. But, truly, we were lucky for we were unarmored and most likely would have been defeated. Within hours we had assembled a defense for our village should those blaggards return. At the same time, we had dispatched a mounted party of ten men to alert the regional governor.
Our village did not have to wait long. Not the following day, but the day after – we awoke to a sight we had never seen. A proud Army of the Province encamped on the outskirts of our village. Banners waving in the wind, hundreds of trained and armed soldiers. That day our village elders met with the commander of this force.
As long as I live, I shall ever forget this man. Captain Lang-Lo, son of Lang-Li. He stood tall, and proud. This was a man who could fight and properly defend the women and children of our village. Lang-Lo, it was said was orphaned beyond the Great Bastion, to the Northwest. Some say he was raised by the wolves of the Tzaan-Kumi forests. Whatever the case, never a more capable and cagey commander served our Grand Empire.
After meeting with our elders, Lang-Lo sent a reconnaissance of twenty mounted scouts force north, and a second party of twenty mounted men to the west. He dispatched his team of quartermasters to reinforce the supply lines to the south and gave them control of the remaining harvest. Our larders were full and every able-bodied villager was put to work on keeping food and water available for our armed guardians.
For three days we worked. There was an air of anxiety in the air, but not true fear. We could not and would not be fearful with dozens of crossbows and spears protecting us from every direction. When time would permit, the soldiers of the Provincial Army would show us younger boys their weapons. One day, each of us was allowed to wield a proper sword in practice. A memory which has lasted many years and will always hold a special place for me. Aaaah, but I digress.
As dusk fell on that third day, the first sortie party returned. All twenty of them. This was good, no men had yet gone on to meet their ancestors in the glorious afterlife. They reported to Lang-Lo, who reported to our village elders, and that evening we all gathered around cooking fires late into the night to hear to news.
They had come from the northwest. A great army. Not of Hobgoblins mind you. No. At first, it was the dreaded Black Orcs. Standing easily a full head taller than any man in our village. Great brutes that carried cleavers and choppers large enough to cut through a donkey in one swing. Not even the eldest elder alive at that time had ever seen a Black Orc up close and in real life. The fiends came quietly in the night with ladders and grappling hooks. Dozens poured noiselessly up and over the wall with a discipline rarely seen amongst the greenskin tribes. They executed the human sentinels upon the bastion one by one. Blood ran, and no signal fires were lit until it was too late. The Black Orcs that had gone over the wall opened a gate for their companions waiting outside the wall in the dark. Ranks and files beyond counting of heavily armored thugs.
At this point, our Imperial Warriors on the next outpost saw the danger. A signal fire was lit. A small battle ensued, but our Warriors on the Wall had lost their greatest defense. They fought as trained, a cautionary action. The Black Orcs chose to not give sustained battle, but rather they fought a skirmish long enough to get their entire force through the gate and they continued moving south in the night. Of course, our village realized that the reason that Lang-Lo’s armed force of such great numbers had been able to reinforce us so quickly was because those signal fires had been lit. The forces of the Celestial Dragon Emperor had been mobilized!
** *** **
"Lang-Lo. Now he was a warrior. Perhaps we shall never know the truth of his story. Who was he? Where did he come from? We do know that he enlisted into the Army from beyond the Great Bastion and was recruited into a unit from Tzaan-Kumi forest. It was said he had fangs, not teeth. But I saw the man myself a handful of times. I never saw fangs. I saw a stern face that hid a creative mind. I must now tell you of the great battle.
In our village of Hong-Tzaay the Days of the Fall went on. Small raiding parties of Hobgoblins would be sighted. Sometimes, they would charge in and let loose a salvo of arrows. Sadly, these missiles did have the intended effect, causing 2 casualties on the first day of raids. The army surgeons noted that the arrow tips were poised. The evil demons!
The Hobgoblins were not looking for a head to head battle. No. Rather, they were scouting us out. But we were at the same time scouting them and theirs. Lang-Lo was no fool. His scouts had determined that the Black Orcs, after passing through the gates, had indeed headed south as expected. But they were crafty. They doubled back to the northwest, away from the Mounted Dragon Knights of our Emperor. They doubled back to another gate and overwhelmed the defenders there. At that point, they allowed the mounted Hobgoblin scum through. There were two armies now – the Infantry of the Black Orcs and the All-Wolf-Mounted Hobgoblins. Curse them all!
But what was their aim, wondered Lang-Lo. To raid? To enslave? To pillage, to kill, to conquer. And what was their end objective? They could never live and settle south of the Great Bastion wall. That was human land, pure and simple. Many nights did the lamps burn late in Lang-Lo’s tent. He was a fighter, yes. A commander, of course. But never was there a more cunning human. More crafty than those filthy Hobgoblins my a mile. He sought to know his enemy, and to know why his enemy did what they did.
Lang-Lo made his way around camp one morning with a smile gracing his ever-stern face. A smile?? Why? What riddle had he solved? He spoke with his men and his lieutenant, leaving said lieutenant in charge and with two scrolls of orders to be followed to the letter. He rode off with a small escort of 9 other men. Nine of his best. They rode north.
The next day; the lieutenant gave orders to his men and to our village. We were to evacuate. We were to take all water and foodstuffs with us, and we were to leave all gold and all coin and all precious things in the village. Carry only foodstuffs under order of death. Of course, many of the wealthier merchants in the village objected. Some tried to sneak gold in their carts hidden under the grain. But the Provincial Army held to their orders and enforced as necessary. One merchant was indeed executed and this unfortunate act had the effect of dissuading the others. The folk of the village marched to the northeast. The army, which was already encamped to the west of the village, marched to the southwest.
What happened next was shocking at the time, and yet predictable with hindsight. The Hobgoblins rode into our village and pillaged it. Some say that the Provincial Army actually transported in extra gold to make the trap all the more enticing. We villagers knew none of what transpired at the time. Word spread quickly and within hours, the Black Orcs knew of the riches. While the Hobgoblin’s mission was for gold, the mission of the Black Orcs was for slaves. They were now torn. Do they double back to the village and try to contend for the quick and easy loot, or continue on their despicable slaver run?
An unruly mob of hungry Hobgoblins rode north the next morning, laden with bags of gold and jewels and metals. They went many miles, unmolested. As they rode to the appointed gate, their leaders received reports from their scouts and realized that the Black Orc allies were not heading towards said gate. They were heading towards another village, intent on slaves. If the Imperial Gate was left undefended by the humans, the Hobgoblins could easily ride through to the relative safety beyond the wall. If it were defended by humans then the Hobgoblins would not take on a pitched battle without their Black Orc warriors.
A further scouting mission was sent by the evil Hobgoblins. The gate remained undefended. They could easily slip through to the open lands beyond the Bastion.
** *** **
"As those greenskinned fools approached the gate, they saw no sign of Imperial Forces and continued with their hasty evacuation to wastelands that stretched north of the Great Bastion. The first few Wolf Riders had gone through the gate and in a flash, the riders immediately behind them heard a screech and saw a flash of viscera. An orange blur, and blood splattered. Ha! Yes, yes… some of you know this part of the story. It was Fukuro the Flame. Spirit Prince!
A gate works both ways. It is a natural pinch point. The sheer mass and the press of hundreds of wolf riders kept pushing them forward to the unforgiving blade of Fukuro. Who is Fukuro, you ask? He is not of this world. He stands taller than any tree, with claws and wings and the head of an Owl. He is a wise being. Not entirely a friend with all humans, but certainly hating the greenskins many times more than he might hate all but the most villainous human. It is said that Fukuro’s blade swung 47 times before the Hobgoblins could halt their passage through the gate. 47 heads lay just outside the gate. The leaders of the Hobgoblin cavalry force didn’t quite know what to do. It would seem that this gate would not work for their escape, but it also seemed that the orange menace was hesitant to come over or through the gate and fight their entire force in the open. So, they waited. None could sleep, what with the horror they had just faced fresh in their minds.
One of the leaders ordered a small cadre of archers to dismount and take to the wall. What a reversal of roles, the mounted invaders were now defending the battlements. I have no idea how good of an aim a Hobgoblin archer might have, but remember they did have those poisoned arrows. A score of 20 projectiles shot out towards Fukuro. I wasn’t there, so I cannot say – but the legends say that Fukuro’s blade whipped through the air and cut the arrows in half before they could ever even make contact – such was his speed and his skill. There would be no ranged successes on this battlefield.
** *** **
"As the Hobgoblins waited, the Black Orcs followed the trail of the human villagers of Hong-Tzaay, perhaps 700 in their number. Women and children. They left an obvious trail. If the Black Orcs were to capture even half of that number alive, they could count their success and return to their evil masters in the wastelands.
For hours on end, the Black Orcs tracked us. For yes, I was in that group. We fled. We were pursued. The Black Orcs followed us to the edge of a small forest and we were instructed to leave all that we carried. Basket upon basket of food. But the Black Orcs had no interest in food, it was live human bodies that they required. Slavers. The most despicable of all. A thousand curses upon them.
As we fled into the woods, we could hear the Black orcs pursuing us, not more than one mile distant. We could hear them pass over our food baskets, intent on the human bodies that their depraved slave masters required. Our folk were nimble and able to dodge through the forest, passing on mysterious trails that some of our far-ranging hunters knew of.
** *** **
"To the north, the Hobgoblins were on the wall. It was a stalemate. They could not break free, fearing the wrath of the Orange Monster and his Sword. Fukuro.
A troop of Imperial Infantry had entrenched themselves just outside of sight. This was a combined force led by Lang-Lo’s lieutenant. He led scores of spearmen and crossbowmen. Well trained and well disciplined. And might I add, well supplied. Remember, the Hobgoblins had chosen gold over food and their supplies were running low. North past the gate was the forest and the well-hidden but ever present winged nemesis, waiting. Behind them were ranks of troops. Spears and crossbow were the natural foil to charging wolf cavalry. None of those that attempted to escape were successful.
When hobgoblins are put into a situation that they weren’t prepared for, you start to see their true colors. Not green, but yellow. Cowards! Oh, they can be crafty when they have the upper hand. But when their backs are against the wall, they turn to desperate hostility and cruelty to each other. They were bitter and angry and they were starving. These were not troops built for a grinding fight. They were plateau raiders, mounted terrors. Yet here they were, defending their stolen gold and a fortress that wasn’t even theirs.
** *** **
"For as long as I had been alive, nay - for dozens of years before I was even born - Citizens of the Empire of Cathay were aware that there were monsters in the forests. There were enough woodsmen and enough rangers who could verify what they saw. It was not a myth anymore. As I grew from my seventh summer to my eight, tales reached Hong-Tzaay village on a weekly basis of Oni with great iron clubs and of Tengu that flew from the edge of the forest each night. Perhaps these tales were embellished to scare children. Perhaps not.
I learned much after those days of immediate peril, and I was lucky enough to learn it directly from the mouth and from the hand of Lang-Lo. As you all should know, I served 30 years in the Imperial Army in the Dragon Emperor’s Crossbow Battalions. My time of service began as a 15-year old regimental drummer and errand boy for the Provincial Militia. I joined the day after the massacre outside the forest, inspired as I was by the leadership and cunning of Lang-Lo.
Ah, the massacre. Where had I left off regarding that front? The Black Orc infantry were pursuing the unarmed villagers through the woods. As each minute passed, we could hear them gaining on us. We could smell their disgusting sweat. I was helping the elderly and the young make their way through the trees when I saw a monstrosity. Not a Black Orc, mind you. At first when I saw it, I thought it was one of the Oni I had heard tales of. A giant red beast, thick with fur, sharp vicious horns growing from the side of its head. But the beast did not attack. It simply grunted at us and nodded its enormous head towards our escape route deeper into the forest.
At this point, I stopped my flight. I hid behind a tree and took my time to look around. Next to that first Red Oni I had seen, about 10 feet away, another equally large red Bull Man Beast was crouched behind a rock. This one carried an ax that was as large as the dining table in my family home. I would guess it would take three full grown men of our village to even lift it, much less swing it with aim.
As I hid behind that tree, I barely had five moments to catch my breath before the pursuing Black Orcs crashed through the trees. These twisted Orcs had no caution, as they could smell their helpless prey in the air. But if they had stopped for even a second, they would have smelled a new scent. ManBull, Bull Men. I would have to guess that the frontmost three never knew what killed them. A colossal ax whizzed through the forest greenery, severing head from shoulders. Simultaneously, a club the size of a tree turned another Black Orc into a green jelly upon impact. This scene unfolded a hundred times over throughout the forest that afternoon.
In the time it takes for a well-trained crossbowman to shoot, reload, and shoot four times – the pursuers had been stopped, slaughtered, and were now themselves being pursued out of the forest. It was that quick. A complete reversal of fortune. The Black Orc leaders started rallying their units about two hundred feet outside the forest. The element of surprise was now lost for these strange beasts of the forest. The Black orcs would reform and go back in with an orderly and concerted and prepared effort. Ranks and files, cleavers at the ready. As their ranks were being formed, a horn could be heard from the East.
It was riders. Mounted Dragon Knights of our Emperor’s army led by Lang-Lo himself and his personal honor guard of his nine best men. Their spears were sharp and bright that day. The hooves of the horse cavalry clattered alongside the hooves of the Goat Men and Bull Men from the forest. The combined assault was devastating and not a single Black Orc was spared.
My curiosity had drawn me back through the forest to witness this spectacle and to see first-hand the mêlée that ensued. I do not know what horrified me more, the carnage of hand to hand combat or what happened afterwards. The Human army withdrew to a safe distance and the Bull Men began to feed on the still hot Orc flesh. They gorged such as I have never seen a living animal gorge. A thing can be both horrifying and marvelous at the same time.
** *** **
"The next morning, Lang-Lo and a handful of the other senior officers of the human army went over to address the Beast Men. Their talk was short. They turned back to the lines of their mounted elite troops and ordered a march north. The armies of Beasts followed us. Each mile, new creatures seemed to appear within their ranks. Yes, the Bull Men we had already seen, standing as tall and as wide as a house. Goat Men that were of a similar size to we human villagers. Other Goat Men with great sharpened horns. Snake Men. Fish Men. Turtle Men. For a simple villager, this was frightening and amazing at the same time.
It was a three-day march north to the wall. When our combined force arrived, we were interested to learn that infighting and murder had already started to thin the ranks of the Hobgoblins, and hunger had done its work to demoralize them to the point of surrender. They flew the white flag. Lang-Lo went to parlay with them. His terms were fair, the Riders that remained would surrender their weapons first of all. They would then relinquish every piece of stolen gold and finery, to be returned to the villagers and merchants. They would ride north, and never cross the Great Bastion again.
As Lang-Lo finished stating his terms, he turned to give the Hobgoblins a moment to discuss and agree. One of their number pulled a curved blade and leapt to bury it in between Lang-Lo’s shoulder blades. The blade was dripping with poison. But our leader was no feeble flabby General. He was a warrior and his instinct kicked in. He deflected the blade. In a flash, his bodyguard’s sword removed the hand gripping that curved blade from the rest of the arm of that fiendish Hobgoblin. This particular parlay was over. Always remember that you can NEVER, ever trust a Hobgoblin.
It was a matter of moments to send in the combined forces of Bull Men, Goat Men, Towering Monsters, Mutated Turtles, and more. They assaulted the already disheartened Hobgoblins, and it was truly chaotic. This particular raiding band was no more. There were no survivors. All that were present were to behold yet another grisly feast following the few brief moments of fighting. The Beast Men were the victors. Later that day, our Imperial Regiments would begin the task of ushering these Beast Men through the gate, past the Great Bastion and into the forests of Tzaan-Kumi.
** *** **
"From an Imperial standpoint: That year, in addition to the Hobgoblins and the Black orcs, these Beast Men within our forests were the third threat faced by the Dragon Emperor, and by Lang-Lo. We had used one threat to defeat another threat. For Lang-Lo was born in the forest, albeit another forest, and he could communicate with these Beast Men. He rationalized that through no fault of their own, they were living in a forest within the Empire of Cathay and if they stayed, they would forever run the risk of being hunted by humans. Lang-Lo offered them the chance to migrate north of the Great Bastion into the Mystical Forests of Tzaan-Kumi. There they would be free from being hunted. They could live here safely and be our buffer from other enemies.
In fact, in later years, Lang-Lo went above and beyond his initial promise to the Beast Men. He requested that the Dragon Emperor set aside that area to be forever free from logging and the building of all but the most necessary buildings. Perhaps a barracks, perhaps an outpost. Never homes, never mills, never farms. Being an honored and successful war veteran, the Emperor set aside this land as Lang-Lo requested. The benefit to Greater Cathay was tremendous. The Goat Men and Bull Men and their odd cousins lived in the forest. They never attacked human settlements and exist as a constant buffer to the greenskin marauders from the northwest.
These Monsters from the Mystical Forests of Tzaan-Kumi are now our allies. Perhaps some might say tenuous allies. It depends. I have myself spent time amongst them. Only two or three nights at the most, for they do not desire human interaction. They wish only to live in the forests, hunt and eat what they need to survive, and go about their business. Their hatred of the Hobgoblins and of the Black Orcs continues to this day. I will say only that they are fierce fighters and that I would rather fight alongside them than fight against them.
Our small village and these two engagements were but small pieces on the chessboard of the Third Hobgoblin Wars of 2300. Over the course of that winter, the fighting remained fierce. Many were slain on both sides, and we emerged the victors. But. The threat of Hobgoblins and of Black Orcs is never truly gone. Remain vigilant my children. For Cathay, and for our Celestial Dragon Emperor!
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Post by wilsonthenarc on Oct 9, 2017 18:01:14 GMT
Just a bit of background fluff for my army. I am in (literally) uncharted territory, as there ain't much in the ways of Maps of Northern Cathay, as relates to the rest of the Warhammer world. All you guys in the "Old World" have a bunch of neat lines you must color within. I can scribble and paint wherever I want, I am inventing most of my world, which is something I relish. In that mindset, have any of y'all ever seen this: www.gitzmansgallery.com/warhammer-maps.html(droooool)
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