Stories, fluff, army fluff, your own fluff ideas, and other creations concerning the Druchii, the End Times Elves or the Exile Aelves go here!

Moderators: Drainial, T.D., The Dread Knights

User avatar
Killed by Khorne
Killed by Khorne
Posts: 2818
Joined: Fri Apr 12, 2013 3:51 pm
Location: Hinterlands of Khuresh; The Lost City of the Angels


Post by T.D. »



Druchii Beastmasters scour the four corners of the Warhammer World to yoke the mightiest Creatures of Chaos to the will of the Witch King.

Venturing beyond the Northern Watchtowers; West across the Gulach Rondi; South to the Broken Lands; or East across the entire Seven Seas from our dread ports ...no Beast of the Earth is safe from the rod and the lash of Druchii will to dominate :twisted:

But not all such expeditions are successful. Many brave Beastmasters fall to the scorpion sting of a Manticore's tail, or are crushed by the raging fury of a newly harnessed Doomreaver Sea Serpent. Indeed, such are the heights and the depths of the Warhammer World, that there are always exotic and dangerous creatures newly discovered to the ken of the Druchii race...

When the time comes for our courageous War Beast herders to recover and rest, the mead and wine flows ...and these tails of peril come to the fore; there are always stories of the one "that just got away" and tales of the one "that was thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig!!!"

...yarns that the less well traveled members of Druchii society can rarely believe! :o

So fellow Wranglers of War Beasts, who has the tallest tale to tell?


Competition Format:

Tell us a tall tale! Post it below in this thread. Emphasis is on fun, so short and sweet is fine!

Word limit: 1000 words.

Competition will run to 23rd March. After this the thread will be locked and a new voting one created. Voting will close on 31st March.

To give people more time, this Competition will run to 31st March. After this the thread will be locked and a new voting one created. Voting will close on 7th April.

Voting is an electronic vote open to the public, with ability to cast multiple votes.

Additionally, those who contribute stories can nominate their top three entries by posting them in the voting thread. These will count for 1, 2 and 3 additional voting points respectively. Total of public + contributer votes will be added up after voting thread lock to determine the ultimate Winner & Loser.


Most Votes: King of the Beastmasters custom forum title!

Least Votes: On Kharibdyss Dung Duty custom forum title!
(one month forfeit!) :P
OldHammer Advanced Ruleset
- Adding Tactical Depth to Your Favourite Tabletop Wargame
User avatar
Killed by Khorne
Killed by Khorne
Posts: 2818
Joined: Fri Apr 12, 2013 3:51 pm
Location: Hinterlands of Khuresh; The Lost City of the Angels

The Bloodwrack Coven: Episode II – GONE HUNTIN’

Post by T.D. »

Two sets of eyes peer out from behind a cleft in the rocks.

They are looking out at a craggy volcanic islet, connected to the coast by a narrow channel of hexagonal basalt columns. A small isle, drenched in the sea spray of pounding waves, it was like any other in this part of the rugged Boiling Sea coastline …until that is, we see what those eyes were searching for.

A blur of motion rounds the headland; a writhing, serpent-like form, glittering in the morning sun. Its speed and grace belie its colossal size; almost 100 feet of coiling muscle and maritime fins allied to a predatory maw and razor claws.

The two pairs of eyes quickly dart back behind their hiding place on shore.

Baldrick: That’s a Pagowyrm!

Blackadder: No Baldrick; that is the largest and most dangerous of the Merwyrms -- an Infernal Sciowyrm of the Boiling Sea! Our quarry.

Baldrick: Lord Percy wants us to catch that?

Blackadder: Thankfully for us both, he doesn’t want us to catch it, rather to steal the eggs that it is so pertinaciously guarding.

Baldrick: And how are we going to do that?

Blackadder: Well, Baldrick, as you were once outwitted by a captured Gnoblar in a game of riddles, we’ll leave that one to me.

Enter HIGH BEASTMASTER PERCY in a joshing jovial manner. His dapper Beastmaster gear doesn’t quite fit with his air of adolescent bashfulness and gangly uncoordination.

High Beastmaster Percy: So Blackadder, are you ready to enact THE PLAN?

Blackadder: If you’ve brought the muscle, I’ve brought the magic.

High Beastmaster Percy: Daddy will be so pleased! I’ll be the first Beastmaster to capture the eggs of an Infernal Sciowyrm! We’ll raise one for our House, and sell the rest for mint! *Dances*

HIGH BEASTMASTER PERCY takes a quick peak through the gap in the rocks at the ravening monstrosity territorially circling its nesting island.

High Beastmaster Percy: Bl-bl-bl-blackadder, are you sure this is going to work?! That thing is awful big and awful fast.

Blackadder: Don’t worry Lord Percy, you bring your crew, we bring the spells, and this will all be over and done with in the time it takes to say “Bob’s a Nepotist”.

High Beastmaster Percy: What?

Blackadder: Nothing.

Baldrick: What he meant to say was, he thinks that you only got your High Beastmaster position because *OUCH*

Blackadder: Don’t mind Baldrick, the first Elf to ever be swallowed whole by a Manticore and live to tell the tale. Who would have thought that his long flowing white hair would have wrapped around the beast’s uvula and led to it choking to death on his person, like a badly flushed tampon down a Palace drain?

High Beastmaster Percy: Oh. OK. Well, let’s hope he doesn’t add an Infernal Sciowyrm to his collection of Monster’s throats explored!

All: *Laughter*

A rumbling troop of Kharibdyssi led by the lash and rod of High Beastmaster Percy’s Beastmaster underlings makes its way across the basalt pavement of the shoreline.

High Beastmaster Percy: Time for action! I’ll get on my chariot and herd these lunks in a diversionary attack across the causeway while you work your charms on those eggs!

Exit HIGH BEASTMASTER PERCY to ready the diversion.

Baldrick: So, after that Infernal Sciowyrm charges Lord Percy’s flock of K-Beasts …we do what exactly?

Blackadder: Baldrick, there is the story of an Orc boss, who in a fit of existential rage against the gods, attempted to head butt a stone Idol of Mork (or Gork) to death. That Orc boss died from his injuries; and that Orc boss was considerably smarter than you.


Blackadder: The scroll remember.

Baldrick: Ahh! The scroll!

Blackadder: Well, get it out.

BALDRICK removes the scroll he was carrying in his knapsack all along.

Blackadder: Remember the chant correctly Baldrick? I don’t want to teleport into solid rock, or appear suddenly before a ravenous Infernal Sciowyrm like an unexpected aperitif.

Baldrick: Are you sure this is going to work, Master? After all I only know Doombolt and Soulblight.

Blackadder: And that attitude is why most Warlocks will be spending their long goodnight with the sweet prince. Reading is what will save us Baldrick; reading. More reading, more spells. Geddit?


Blackadder: *Sigh*

Baldrick: Look, Lord Percy is starting to lead the War Beasts out along the causeway.

Blackadder: Right! Let’s begin: Om nom Shiva, om nom Shiva, om nom Shiva…

Baldrick: *Interrupting* Isn’t this language from the Thugee cult of Ind?!

Blackadder: Interrupt again and you’ll be joining the Kharbidyssi as a diversion.

Baldrick: Understood.

Blackadder & Baldrick: Om nom Shiva, om nom Shiva, om nom Shiva, om nom Shiva, om nom Shiva!

A shimmering portal forms in the air, and BALDRICK and BLACKADDER Walk Between Worlds to reach the island nest of the Infernal Sciowyrm. BALDRICK hastily begins gathering up the huge eggs while BLACKADDER looks up to check on the progress of the diversion.

The four massive Kharibdyssi had bellowed an ear-splitting challenge to the Infernal Sciowyrm as they set out across the volcanic causeway; behind in his chariot, HIGH BEASTMASTER PERCY whips at the air in an attempt to look in control of the situation.

Charging at its ancient enemies, the Infernal Sciowyrm spits a glop of boiling venom at its first adversary, destroying its main head almost instantly. The Kharibdyss dies in pain; its stablemates panic, and the three huge beasts turn tail and run. HIGH BEASTMASTER PERCY can only stare in terror as he and his chariot are crushed by the elephantine stampede of the brutes.

Blackadder: And so ends Lord Percy of Karond Kar.

Baldrick: What!?

Blackadder: Leadership Six. Time to get out of here.

Baldrick: But what are we going to do now?

Blackadder: Well, there is a ship waiting whose highest ranking officer is ….now me. And we have a fortune worth of eggs. *Grins*

Blackadder & Baldrick: Om nom Shiva, om nom Shiva, om nom Shiva, om nom Shiva, om nom Shiva!
OldHammer Advanced Ruleset
- Adding Tactical Depth to Your Favourite Tabletop Wargame
User avatar
Posts: 8766
Joined: Fri Mar 14, 2008 10:00 pm
Location: Hag Graef

It tastes like chicken

Post by Calisson »

Let's give a try.
Best talents are revealed early.

“It tastes like chicken”

King Malekith has reunited all three Elven races in Athel Loren.
At “Pinetop Elem'Ent'ary School”, asrai kids have been joined by asur and druchii youngsters.
New gangs emerged. Three young boys, one from each former faction, had overcome the language gap caused by their strong accents, and have learned to discuss together – the slang words were of course the first to be shared.
Blancos, the formerly HE, wants to be a fireman, and to ride a large red dragon with a loud horn.
Shroom, the formerly WE, wants to become a veterinarian, and to heal trees with his songs; when he grows up, he will be tall enough to climb the branches on a Treeman Ancient.
Venom, the formerly DE, used to want to become a policeman in the legendary Black Guard – because he heard that the recruitment process would imply his mother to be killed. Too bad it is no longer possible. Now, he considers becoming an aviator and flying high on the manticore he is going to capture himself as a BeastMaster. One day.

The three friends share the wish to harness the mightiest monsters, but they will have to be patient for a couple more of centuries before their dream could have chances to come true.
They have started, though. They managed to capture a couple of rhinoceros (beetles, not mammals), but those mighty insects failed to extinguish their thirst for adventure.
Now they really need to go and get a more serious game.

Blancos We need to hunt a real beast. :killed: Shroom, what’s to find in the area? :)
Shroom Well, my dad says that most beasties of the past are gone. :(
Venom Yep! That’s since my dad arrived here, he killed them all! :D
Blancos Pfft! We were born too late. :cry: Our parents had all the good times.
Shroom No, your dad didn't kill them all! :evil: There are more harpies than before!
Blancos :idea: Hey, guys! Let’s go next week-end in the bush and kill one harpy! :twisted:
Venom Nooo! :shock: Don’t harm the harpies! They are our allies, our friends, our sisters in arms! They have been corsairs’ faithful companions for millennia; they have fought battles with us! We may capture and tame them, but not kill hem.
Shroom But Beastmen have harpies, too! They steal babies and drink their blood, my Mum told me! :x
Blancos So, :? how can you tell a Beastmen harpy from an Elven harpy?
Venom I know! :D Beastmen harpies taste like chicken, ours taste like fish. :P
Blancos Yuck! :sick: How disgusting!
Shroom :o ...Wait a minute… :? How do you know?
Venom :) He hee… :roll:
Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}
User avatar
PhD in Dark Magic
Posts: 592
Joined: Thu Oct 10, 2013 11:54 am
Location: The depths of the Black Library


Post by Haagrum »

A Good Catch

Kharil Stormlash shifted nervously where he stood as his would-be paymaster ranted. Like most dreadlords of Hag Graef, Torsus Bleakshard was insufferably arrogant, notoriously unforgiving and viciously short-tempered. The full complement of armed guards was a bit excessive for what should have been a routine transaction. Being disarmed at sword-point and witnessing the peremptory slaughtering of the two corsairs Kharil had brought with him hadn’t helped.

“Your commission was clear, beastmaster! You were to deliver a unique specimen for my menagerie of monsters. What am I to do with this... statue?”

Kharil forced himself not to respond in anger. In that, at least, the blades pressed against his ribs helped in maintaining his deferential demeanour. Bleakshard clearly didn’t appreciate the savage beauty of Stormlash’s prize. It had taken half of Fleetmaster Bloodspite’s crew more than an hour to drag the frozen mass off the Spire of Blissful Damnation without damaging it. He’d paid that pirate and his crew a substantial amount more than originally agreed to make sure of it.

Still, Kharil could understand the dreadlord’s annoyance. Magnificent though it was, Bleakshard had asked for a beast, not a trophy. He’d taken it alive, that much was certain. What Kharil couldn’t understand was why it had died during the journey back. How was he supposed to have known that phoenixes of that age could turn to solid ice? Kharil had been so careful to keep the beast sustained with flame during the voyage, even as he sought to break its will. That brute must have done it deliberately, to spite me, Kharil fumed.

“My lord Bleakshard... surely you appreciate the difficulty of retrieving a young specimen of this kind. An elder phoenix is a rare treasure, even in this condi –” A sharp punch to the back of his ribs cut Kharil’s explanation short.

Kharil was desperate, but it was clear that Bleakshard wasn’t in the mood for excuses. The set of the dreadlord’s eyes suggested that he was quickly assessing the most appropriate method of ensuring that the brief remainder of the beastmaster’s life would be as unpleasant as possible. Kharil, watching his ostensible benefactor closely, knew that his life hung on getting the next words in, before the guards were ordered to drive their blades home... or worse.

“Of course, this is not the only brute I obtained for your collection, my lord. If you will permit me to lead you back to the vessel that brought me here, I can show you another gift.”

It was enough to pique Bleakshard’s interest. Before Kharil had learned his trade with the scourge, he had been a street-dweller in Clar Karond. Now, every ounce of experience he had at drawing in a potential victim was thrown into convincing Bleakshard to spare him long enough to see this further acquisition.

The fleetmaster had been reluctant to accede to the dreadlord’s demands, particularly in front of his crew. Nevertheless, Bloodspite concluded that any respect he had lost could be won back through bloodshed. Taking on Bleakshard’s household guard would earn him only enmity, even if he survived. With a full cohort of armoured killers marching sword’s-length from his back, and an angry fleetmaster immediately to his left, Kharil led Bleakshard into the slave-holds of the Black Ark before drawing to a halt in front of an unmarked cell door.

“We lost many of the troops your coin purchased on that day, my lord. The beast fought like a daemon. It would have been easier if we’d simply gone for the kill. That monster even managed to wreck my scourgerunner after it was harpooned and brought down. Thankfully, they knew better than to question my orders when they knew it would mean facing your anger.”

Kharil reached down to the door bar and opened the cell. Beyond was a small room bedecked with straw, its occupant covered in matted blood, scraps of clothing and its own filth. It had once been an elf. Now, it was little more than a whipped cur, a broken hound. Bleakshard wrinkled his nose in disgust, but Kharil caught the change in his stance as the captive raised its head and he realised the nature of his new acquisition. Kharil, sensing deliverance, held his breath against both the tension and the stench.

For a long moment, Bleakshard didn’t speak. Finally, he smiled, then turned to face Kharil and nodded.

“Yes... this will do nicely. A good catch indeed, beastmaster.”

Kharil and Bleakshard turned back to the prisoner. It had not been easy to take the phoenix alive, less so with its rider intact. Even now, under the grime of captivity and torture, the dimly glowing rune of Asuryan, the mark of the Anointed, still burned on the prisoner’s forehead.


By way of explanation, in case anyone's wondering why Lord Bleakshard would settle for the second prize:

1. Frostheart Phoenixes eventually freeze completely and turn to solid ice, if they get old enough.

2. The only models that may take a Phoenix as a mount are the Anointed of Asuryan.

3. The fluff for the Anointed suggests that, much like the Phoenix Guard, they know everything that is going to happen to them, including how and when they are going to die. Stop for a minute and think about what that means when the Anointed is taken alive, tortured into a broken mess, and finally handed to a druchii overlord...
"The wrath of a good man is not to be feared. They have too many rules."

"Good men don't need rules. Today is not a good time to find out why I have so many."
Posts: 102
Joined: Wed Nov 26, 2014 10:50 am


Post by Makiwara »

Druchii were always so loud; loud and easy to track. The shades and beastmasters blazed their trails with the fearless arrogance of those damned powerful Chracian lions that had become so common since the sinking of Ulthuan, trampling undergrowth and muttering dark curses. They didn’t seem to like the feeling of boughs overhead; the closeness of the living forest that was Athel Loren, Taka smiled to himself with rare mirth. They didn’t seem to be enjoying themselves at all. Of course, when you were hunting forest dragon eggs comfort was subjective.

These druchii raids were becoming more and more common; The Eternity King had set the penalty for thieving from asrai guarded glades at death, but this lot, servants of some Dol Ullyrion character, had flouted such orders. That they had done so within the bounds of Eryr Allisar spoke to the druchii capacity for daring; the fact that they had been betrayed from within for asrai gold... betrayal.

They’d been led and dogged since they crossed the bounds to Vali Loecson’s realm under the keen eye of Taka and his waywatchers, though not a shot had been sent, nor a path barred. No the waywatchers had used their repertoire of illusion and bushcraft to steer the quarry on the paths they preferred giving Taka time to send a mean spirited little messenger shrike ahead of the party as the asrai watched silently, as agile on the branches of trees as monkeys and silent as spirits. Nidhoggyr would be pleased; she always did enjoy a good joke.

Taka could almost smell the confusion of the druchii party from below; the shades were cautious, they’d been forced around to have the wind at their back, and the beastmasters were growing frustrated with their guides, voices harsh with whispered threats. Taka chuckled noiselessly, once you had a herd confused your opportunity would present itself and the druchii, fleet as deer, not Athel Loren deer, some kind of loud Nagarothii deer, began the long trail that would circle them around to a downwind approach of the forest dragon’s lair.

Now had the party been stalking a dragon of Ulthuan it would have been much easier pickings, the fire born beasts were dull as the day approached dusk; not so the dragons of Athel Loren, twilight was the witching hour, the hunter’s hour and forest dragons were the apex predator of Athel Loren. The eggs must have been worth a king’s ransom surely; the beastmaster pair certainly pushed their shades with the promise of wealth even in the face of such an immense challenge. The shades had avoided the twisted roots and sliding rocks the waywatchers had the time to put in place; one beastmaster hadn’t been so lucky. Taka could almost feel the strain of bowstrings in the trees about him as his waywatchers scented a wounded member of the flock as the druchii fell slowly but surely back to the end of the group, limping grimly.

The approach they thought they had chosen might have been a serviceable one on another day but the druchii were heedless of the slight wind swirls that were common in heavy woods; though they felt the wind in their face, masking their approach from the nose of a canny dragon, they wouldn’t realise until it was too late that the wind circled around past them and straight into the cave opening claimed as hatchery by the great green wyrm. The descent was gentle enough and on any other day the druchii party would be swift and silent; but greased pebbles were an old asrai trick and the shades stumbled and skated with shock and concern, but they were autarii, skilled trackers and killers, and they muffled their mistake admirably; barely a whisper of grinding stone as they slid down, repeating crossbows at the ready. Any beast, even a dragon, wouldn’t have shocked to wakefulness, would have been caught unawares.

Of course Nidhoggyr was wide awake and awaiting her prey, the waywatchers had ensured as much; with a silent puff, noxious vapours billowed out of the cave mouth and druchii coughs betrayed their earlier stealth. In the moment of shock that it took for the shades to turn their crossbows towards the vortex of poison asrai arrows leapt out to pluck at the heels and knees of those at the back of the party and the druchii whirled to the new threat instinctively. The roar that Nidhoggyr sent out was long and outraged; those autarii still able to scattered, the one able beastmaster crying out their cravenness and cowardice even as the forest dragon silently slithered out and wrapped her jaws about his torso, turning muscle to meal in a sickening crunch.

Haunting whoops and hunter cries chased druchii shades and waywatchers peeled away, dogging and driving their quarry with vicious relish. For his part the waystalker had marked out the limping beastmaster and approached on ghost steps from the druchii’s blind spot as the Nagarothii watched the predation of his companions with morbid fascination. An arrow sang a quite note and the beastmaster went down in a tangle of cloak and limb; Taka pounced on the druchii like a forest leopard and locked his arms in a triangle around the beastmaster’s head and shoulder, his legs pinning the druchii’s other arm to his body to prevent the draw of a knife. There was the great strangled gasps of the last moment of the hunt and the druchii went still; Taka let go of the choke before the druchii passed into death, sitting up and gathering his bow as members of his waywatcher band dropped down to meet their leader.

Taka grinned.

“So boys, I’m sure this will make a great trophy for our Prince. There is no greater thrill than the hunt of the hunter and no greater hunter than the druchii.”

One of his waywatchers passed him a wine skin and Taka took a deep draught.

“Except for us of course.”
The waywatchers laughed heartily.

So for the druchii beastmasters it was the one that got away, for the asrai... not so much.


I might even have to knock up a kitbash for my new trophy beastmaster; put him to good use in Belac Agaith.

For us, there is no longer the druchii, the asur and the asrai; now there are only the Asdra; The Laughing Ones.

For us The Season of Doom is ended, now The Season of Opportunity is begun.
User avatar
Posts: 84
Joined: Thu Oct 24, 2013 8:50 pm
Location: Tower of Hoeth


Post by Aicanor »

THe thread is not locked yet, so I guess I will have to add one more after all. :mrgreen:


That night, the road to high passes in the mountains of Cothique was a whirling mass of snow and darkness. Inside the crowded inn a group of Northerners sat together with a pair of tall Chracians and a lone hunter who seemed to care little about the lively conversation that unfolded around him.

“No way!” one of the Chracians shouted in good humour. “You can not trick a sea serpent like that. Or can you?” He nudged the man sitting next to him.
The hunter looked up from his platter of venison stew. “I can’t say I ever tried that,” he answered. “But I usually hunt much smaller prey.”
“Oh, tell us about it. What is your best tale?”
The man shook his head and returned to his stew.
“We insist!” shouted one of the Northerners challengingly.
The man turned his dark eyes and looked fully at them for the first time. “Do you?”
“Yes! Someone like you must have a good tale or two about these mountains. You are a local, are you not?”
“I have lived here some, yes,” the man said, never taking his gaze from the group. “And I also met a sea serpent once, long ago. All I can tell you is that I was not thinking about how to capture the beast at all. But you want a story, do you?”
More than few pairs of eyes in the room turned to him in the tables around. Wind howled behind small, snow blinded windows.

“Far to the north, there is a keep called Angrin Seith. Never heard of it? Now that does surprise me. Delightful place, where you can hunt ice fiends all year round. But it is said much more sinister creature comes hunting there in winter months. It is called Helkh-Kaan, the Ice Serpent. Some say it is an old dragon of rare breed, others swear it is a daemon from the northern Wastes and yet more folk believe it is just a legend.”

“That day,” the hunter looked again at the elves gathered around, “We were hunting in a mountain valley, I and a few of my comrades. Near the end of the day, just as we were looking for a place to camp in, we were caught by a blizzard with such unexpected speed and of such strength that we were soon unable to see each other, even though we were a few paces apart. We struggled forward, trying to keep in touch distance of each other, but at one moment I realized I was all alone. And then I saw it. It was gleaming in the white darkness as moonlit ice. I could see it even though snow was whirling all around it, sharp as glass shards. It was feathered. And it was getting close.. As the serpentine body glided through the storm towards me, ever closer with a strange growling sound of rolling avalanche. I knew I was in deep, deep trouble then, But I was not going to die without a fight. I leapt towards the creature as it stroke and its snake-like head missed me by inches. Before it could strike again, I grabbed the long feathers on its neck and held firm. The plumes were soft and, oddly, quite warm. I tried to stab the creature’s neck, but it must have been no more than a pinprick in its thick hide. It rolled and then raised into the air. All I was able to do was hold onto its plumage.. I could see nothing, hear only howling of the wind in my ears. It must have lasted hours…”

“You do not believe me? You think all this is one fat lie? It is not. But I assure you, every word is just and true. It happened on a night just like this. I woke up next morning, buried deep under fresh snow, and in my hands I still gripped a single snow coloured feather. “

“I can see on your faces you do not want to believe, do you? Then I think I will go and have another try in the hunt. Come morning, I will be back.”

And indeed, followed by more than a few curious eyes, he wrapped a faded white cloak around his shoulders, took his well worn sword scabbard and bow and in a whirlwind of snow, vanished through the door. The Chracians look at each other, bewildered. Then they shrugged. The man didn’t take the inn’s supply of wine with him to freeze outside. None of them noticed when the door opened the second time some time later.

Come morning, the door creaked open and a ray of bright sunlight fell into the firelit room. The Chracians were once again sitting at their table, alone. The dark haired hunter staggered into the room, brushing snow off his cloak with gloved hands.
“I am sorry to say the Ice Serpent escaped capture once again,” he said to the Chracians as he took the cloak off and sat by them at his old place. “Some drink and food to warm my cold bones would be welcome.”
He ate breakfast with some relish and then stood up, putting his cloak over his shoulders once again. “It is time for me to go south, and there could hardly be better weather,” he said with a slight nod to the room as he reached for the door handle once again.
“And who do you think will pay for your food?”
“Keep those things,” the man gestured in a direction where the Northerners kept their baggage. They will not be coming back.
A once white cloak flapped about his feet as he left the inn, and in the light coming from outside all could see the feathered serpent embroidered on the hem.

Posts: 102
Joined: Wed Nov 26, 2014 10:50 am


Post by Makiwara »



Truly terrible photos from an ipod, but my wife has the camera at the moment...

Here he is, the beastmaster press-ganged into service in the forces of Athel Loren...

Used a metal corsair, cut the arms, drilled out the head, replaced the head with a dark eldar wych, one hand with a wych knife the other a SoS whip, popped on a lion head from a high elf kit and green stuffed a fur cloak.

Just have to get my hands on some etched brass leaves to pop on top of the fur to show his new allegiance to Belac Agaith and he's done... now I have to add a bunch of beasts and gribblies for him to train; wolves, cats, bears, birds. I'll use him as a unit filler to begin, but I might end up giving him a unit of animals to lead as a fast cav proxy or something.

This contest was fun!
For us, there is no longer the druchii, the asur and the asrai; now there are only the Asdra; The Laughing Ones.

For us The Season of Doom is ended, now The Season of Opportunity is begun.