Dead Wood...

 Happy Halloween - or at least it would have been if I'd gotten this post out on time!

A Tide of Mucus

Ugh - over a whole month without posting! The daft thing is I've no end of things to post about and I think this will be my excuse this time!!

I had been planning on posting up some spooky stuff I painted up for my very slowburn Wood Elf army, which I also took down to use in our yearly Halloween game with the Warlords of Albion - Night of the Living Lead. There was going to be action-packed in game shots and everything. 

Then I thought it would be a good idea to paint up the stuff I bought from Foundry while we were down there that would fit in nicely with my newly painted up Elf stuff and make a good addition to the blog post. 

Then I thought it would be a great idea to kitbash and paint another unit to go with them.

So we're not doing any of that in this post because it's still on the painting desk. In case you hadn't guessed from the delightful title of this post - you're getting Snotlings again!

Giants and Spiders...

So on to the real big guys of the army this week - those little Snotties need all the help they can get!

Pump My Ride...

So on with the Snotlings! This week it's the more mobile and deranged wing of the "army" - the Pump Wagons!

Dog Snots and a whole load of Bogeys...

Crikey, where does the time go? Thought I was on top of this blogging malarkey and several motnhs go by just like that... (edit from present day me and not mid-June me when this draft was originally written - more like a lot more than several months ago!)

Last Ham at Grazer's Leat

 

Well that's been a busy few weeks but the Snotlings are finally here. I've weathered a nasty cold (not the best when you work outdoors everyday), survived my Defender's engine destroying itself and sorted a new pickup out, all while starting out in a new job. It's back to the fun hobby stuff now I'm on a more even keel and I see GW have also re-released a few of the old Snotling miniatures too recently, so I guess I'm almost topical too!

You know what 'ol Jack Burton says at a time like this...

A time like this being Sunday evening after a pretty tiring weekend - he says post some old pictures of a vaguely Lo Pan inspired Sorcerer and his motley gang!

A Season of Mists and Mellow Fruitfulness...

Bit of a Saturday night quickie - ooh err...

Well as much action as I'm likely to get XD

I'm between laptops at the moment - charging port broke on the last one (can't remember if it was dog or booze related...) so my photos of stuff I've painted is all over the place. However, having gone through the memory card on my camera I happily found these shots I took ages ago!

Der Verlorene Haufen: The Mutated and the Dead

Captain Lukas Heinriksen quailed as Todeswunsch pulled the letter he had but two hours ago written, sealed and pressed in to the hand of a loyal runner. The paper was torn and judging by the bloody stains, the runner had met a sorry end too. Todeswunsch tossed the ripped missive on to the table before him and stared coldly at Heinriksen,

"I see you are not enamoured of the new additions to our little expedition Captain. Not only that but it would seem you seek to share your views with our masters back in Ostermark. Would you care to explain yourself..."

State of the Blogosphere?

So despite the slightly grandiose title, this is going to be a bit stream of conscious as I've been thinking a lot about blogging and the blogging community since my last post - bear with me, there is a point in the end. I think!

This post gets a bit wordy so I needed pictures - thought I'd go with some of my favourite projects.

A Return to the East (and the blog!)

Well it's been a while but I'm back and with some new stuff!

Going Viral...

Onwards they marched, tracking the Chaos deviant through the dead lands. A litany of woe and a trail of ruin marked the passage of the Cult they still hunted. Always they were too late and never were they welcomed by the local peasantry. Instead, beady eyes, glistening with fear and suspicion, glared out from make shift hovels as the weary throng trudged past the glowing embers of burned out villages. 

Der Verlorene Haufen: All Aboard the Arquebus!

Kurt Todeswunch was awake before his adjutant burst in to the tent - perhaps he had never actually slept. How was one to know where the border between dream and reality was in this accursed place.

"Sir - reports of movement along the line, just in from the forward pickets. They say the woods have come alive!"

Kurt silenced the panicky Captain with a glare. What new devilry was this?

Der Verlorene Haufen: A Healthy Dose of Nihilism and Morr Skullz!

The stagnant chill of the morning sat heavily amongst the pines. The silence that hung expectantly in the air gave way to the dull clank of rusted armour and harness. Slowly they came, forlorn and sombre, the mud sucking gently at their worn boots. One could have been forgiven for thinking the dejected throng a ghostly apparition or some other ethereal conjuration, for no word or groan escaped the visors of their dour helmet, save for the ragged clouds of condensed breath that hung about their heads in the cold air. 

Der Verlorene Haufen: Once more unto the breech Dear Friends!

“Where now are the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?

Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?"

Nope - the Cult hasn't got them yet, but where indeed are they one might ask and my answer would be that they reside in numbers amongst my lead pile, waiting to meet this year's Old World Army Challenge! I've just realised I never published this post last month after it aired on the OWAC blog - oh well, better late than never!

Sects and Thugs and Bosch and Troll

 Apologies for the terrible pun in the title - it's not even entirely accurate as there's no Bosch I'm afraid...

Cult of the New Colossus - In My End is My Beginning

So we come to the end of the fourth Old World Army Challenge and I have finally joined the hallowed ranks of OWAC veterans! If you haven't already, do go and check out the other entries - they're all fantastic! Time for one more literary reference I think by way of reflection over the last six months. As Eliot says in his Four Quartets, "What we call the beginning is often the end and to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from." Well that's definitely where I'm at with this project! I've heard it said many times that an army is never finished and it seems almost a shame if one should find themselves guilty of such a thing. Again to paraphrase Eliot, to finally finish something and put it to rest or reach a final end is to arrive at "the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless; Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is... Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point, there would be no dance, and there is only the dance."  Other than all the dancing and not dancing, it sounds a bit sterile and lifeless to me so I think the Cult of the New Colossus will live on - but more on that later.

Cult of the New Colossus: Angels We Have Heard On High

This is the end, my only friend the end! My last painted entry for the Old World Army Challenge IV. I'll save all my gushing and introspection for the wrap up post I have to write for July as well as the whole army shot. The last hours of last month were spent furiously painting banners and I reckon I've sold the last remnants of my soul to the ruinous powers to get these last bits done. Hopefully the low figure count won't be an anti-climax when compared to my earlier entries but I thought it best to lavish a bit of attention on this unholy quartet as the leaders of the Cult. I've certainly tried to up the level of epic in the narrative to make up at any rate!

Cult of the New Colossus: Coming of the Colossus

Long and arduous was the pilgrimage back over the roof of the world yet the Cult tired not. From the blasted pit they had clambered, up in to the heavens, and now they descended once more, down through the dark pine forests that bristled on the beetled brow of the World's Edge Mountains. Glowering over the huddled and sagging gambrel rooves of witch-haunted Nachtdorf, these stony pinnacles gave way to the dreary vista of ancient and festering Sylvania - far removed from the pitiless sands of the wasteland they had dragged themselves from. Man and Beast alike rejoiced at the chill air and damp mists of these heavily wooded slopes, for they were a balm to parched lips and blistered hands and feet. Slowly the weary procession began its painful descent back in to the lands of Men once more.

The Cult of the New Colossus: Feeling Bullish but a Little Horse...

 Wermius clutched his head in an attempt to steady the reeling of his mind. How far could he go in comprehending the works of the Colossus and the beloved Godhead? He a mere man. It felt as though some sphinx of flesh and brass had bashed open his skull and eaten up the brains inside. A sphinx much like the enormous creature, some brutish union of Ogre and Dragon, that reposed nearby in all its impossible majesty. How far did it go Wermius feverishly wondered. The Beastmen had been a revelation and confirmation of the power of the living God he and his brother clergy had pledged themselves to. Yet there seemed no end to the diverse forms of creatures that now flocked to the banner he held dear. His very frame of reference to the real physical world seemed to be spiralling out of his grasp as he encountered each new example of the mutability of flesh. What future had mere men in the plans of the Colossus other than utter destruction and ruin?