The Eclipse

A foul curse has stricken the land. A curse of darkness and hate, destroying the lives of those who would bask in the light of their god. No more can the sun raise the crops and mend the living, no more can it guide the lost and inspire the hopeful; For it has been blocked by a vast orb of impenetrable blackness. The solar god masked by a dark bridle.

The plants grow withered and pale, the children starve and the livestock rot.  Skeletal trees grope blindly in the blackness, their branches bare and crumbling. Any attempts to light the darkness are in vain; The only light to permeate the infinite night shines from the great halo in the sky, and from the gentle flames cast by the candles of the blessed.

And shadows thrive in the dark. Those who breed and lurk and kill grow in number; Daemons walk the earth.

Eclipse

With the emergence of these Daemons, these fiends, so too do those ready to banish them rise.  Ready to cleanse the ruined land with axe and fire.  They rise in defiance against the evil, lest it consume them all. 


The witch hunter. Guided through the iron eyes by a creature, statue skinned. He will follow the imp to the ends of the earth in his mission to clean the realms.

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A swollen beast of a man. Engorged and pulsing. He has strayed so far and remembers so little. Fleeting glimpses of a dear friend, a brother, emerge in his mind. Replaced by the metallic taste of tainted meat, the pain of splitting skin and crushing loneliness. 

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The rotten witch-tracker. Perfectly at home in the pitch blackness, it seeks to banish those who would disturb it’s stagnant peace. 

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Long dead creatures crawl from their holes and
foul raiders converge on the valley.
The blazing sun covered by a mask of stone.

This is my entry for Jake’s (aka Bruticus) Eclipse competition being run on the aos28 facebook page. Let me know what you think!

 

Yet more wips!

I’ve started yet another project for The Chapel! If you’re thinking I’ve bitten off more than I can chew then you’re probably right, but I’m going to show you all anyway.

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This is the start of a small chaos warband. Imagine tumorous mutations hidden under yellow cloth and you won’t be far off. I’m really trying to push myself, so there’ll be a lot of sculpting involved.

Then there’s my Eclipse warband. I’ve added fur to the witch hunter and resculpted his hair, textured the brutes armour and armed the wraith. Does anyone have any idea how to make a blunderbuss?

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Don’t worry, I’ll be doing a colourful update soon!

 

The Albino Forest: Part 1 (Colour)

As requested, here’s a couple of rough shots of my Chapel warband in colour! I’ve noticed a few things that need touching up since taking these and I’d like to share some lore on them all individually, but you can see something close to the finished article.

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The Albino Forest: Part 1

The air carried the breath of decomposition, doubtlessly rising from the squalid pools of stinking bodily fluids coalescing around the roots of the sallow giants. The trees were the colour of bone, the forest like the sun bleached remains of some great beast. Sticky clouds of fumes moved through the undergrowth and coated the ground with a thick layer of grey condensation. Deep within the fog small rotten creatures scurried, and things that used to be birds hung awkwardly in the sky.

And within this forest, among the fumes and the bones and the trees there was a  clearing; And in that clearing, a woman. A lone woman with a bandaged face, a delicate mechanical pincer grafted messily unto her left arm. She was an Ostium Guide, a Siren, Charon. One of the few fabled individuals that know the true whereabouts of The Chapel. 

She was as experienced as the forest and nearly as old. Duty had faded to monotony. Many groups had come to her for guidance: desperate treasure hunters, mechanical seekers, devout pilgrims, but they all left the same way; Screaming alone in the putrid bowels of some forgotten hall in The Chapel. So she waited in the clearing for the next group of hopefuls, knowing the end to their journey before it had even started.  

And yet again, they came. But this group were  different. Mindless fools paying worship to an ancient bulbous-headed mutant. Dressed in thick heavy cloth stained with ichor, dirty faces leering dumbly from behind unkempt hair. Their crude garments punctuated by rattling icons and artifacts. One stood hunched, a vial of clean blood drip-fed directly to his ticking heart. In his one gloved hand was a staff to which was tied a solid open tome, too dirty to read. Another was barely even a man, little more than the upper half of some freakish cadaver grafted to an anti-grav engine and bedecked in the same hefty robes worn by the rest of the group. It’s purpose she couldn’t guess, nor did she want to try. 

Among the rabble a figure loomed high above the rest, a hardened shell supported by groaning mechanical legs. It’s strained spongy head peered out over a dirty clerical collar as it desperately struggled to hold itself upright; A stiff flame-pike used as an elderly man would use a cane. As it gazed at her with it’s ink-blot eyes she heard a thousand whispered voices;

“Take us to the Chapel”.    

PIP

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Right, this is taking a little longer than I thought. I had no idea painting a full squad was so hard to do! I’m really trying to push myself with these to make them the best I can.

The work everybody has been putting out for this project has done a great job of keeping me motivated, so thanks for that!

Let me know what you think of these so far.

Those who would cleanse the chapel

First my camera and now my lamp! I’ve had to relocate to get these images; I’m trying to make the most of the single bulb in my living room. Once it’s fixed I’ll get better images for you all.

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These are all of the “characters” that will be venturing to the chapel. I still need to make the walker, and a host of expendable flagellant style conversions. Once they’re all done I’ll be moving on to the NPC’s.

Ostium Guide: The Siren.

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She knows these grounds. She walked these paths when the metallic ground was still shining;
brushed past the sallow trees when they were but saplings. She glided small-footed through
the jade green courtyard, and giggled falsely at the foolish patrons.

But now the paths are rotting, and the saplings, ancient and insurmountable. The perfect
turf replaced by a thick maze of cruel thorns; The once loving clients little more than
crumbling bones in the oil soaked ground. Her beauty, like the paths she follows, has
long since faded.

But she knows these grounds. And for a meager fee, you can too…

Here we go! My first finished model for Mark’s (heresyofus.com) great Chapel project.

As always, honest thoughts are very welcome