So in the process of finally coming close to finishing my Nightmare Legion, I decided they needed to all be bearing the classic coffin-shaped shield from the 80s. Unfortunately I only owned about six, but I would need 17. I'd made overtures in the Oldhammer Trading Company Facebook group about sourcing some, but I'd never managed to close a deal. Then I read about press-moulds using some stuff called Oyumaru. Basically a reusable heat-malleable plasticy stuff for making moulds.
Sunday, 28 February 2016
Sunday, 14 February 2016
Across the lands of Mantica, there is trade. Markets bustle, coin changes hands and people barter. If you want food to feed your children, you can find someone who'll sell it. If you want silks for your bed, there are places to buy it. These things are obvious, and the wheels of commerce turn ever onward. Yet there are some things that are frowned upon; purchases that, according to those in charge, should not be made. But where there's money to be made, there will be those willing to sell the unsavoury. Beneath the great cities, behind the walls in dark alleys, there are the black markets. Contraband: stolen goods, narcotics, and the like pedalled to those with the money to buy it. But go deeper, go darker, and you find the real items of depravity. Scrolls of foul magic, severed parts of fantastic beasts, curses cast for coin and more. These deep markets are where the Vampire Lord's Necromancers do trade, collecting the spell components that they are unable to gather themselves. And collecting, too, the exotic corpses to be resurrected by their arcane powers. Corpses such as Trolls.
Saturday, 13 February 2016
After the night's rituals drew to a close, and the morning sun crested the horizon, the Vampire Lord's latest minion arose. Another Wight, yet this time the grand hero whose corpse was defiled and raised into undeath was not a knight of the Brotherhood or a champion of Basilea, but a mighty dwarven adventurer, lost to the evils of a dungeon, fallen as he undertook the Dwarf King's Quest.
Monday, 8 February 2016
In life, the Vampire Lord had loved to hunt boars and other wildlife in the forests surrounding his castle. In death, his pursuits translated into a crazed bloodlust upon the field of battle, tempered with a cold pragmatism from centuries of self-preservation. When you are essentially immortal, barring a few key weaknesses, one tends to take those weaknesses rather seriously and work to avoid them. Yet even still, sometimes the thrill of the hunt was too much to ignore. Sometimes to truly feel alive in undeath you had to take risks. You had to hunt the most dangerous prey.