Happy July! That came around quick eh?
This thread is for month 1 of our painting tale. You can post Work in Progress here and then next month we can show finished things.
To start us off I've been chipping away at Mogroks crushas so I have my colour scheme decided. This month's pledge is to finish them off and pick up a shaman for them to do too. Next month of birthday month so I'll get most of the army then!
If you have a bit of fluff to share about your force this is also a good month to get that out. Here's mine:-
Korok is a shaman blessed with vivid premonitions of a set of divine armour that he believes is the armour of Gorkamorka. He has set out on a "crewsaid" to find six divine pieces of armour. He had been seen in Ghyran, Chamon and lately seen in Ghur. The Orange Crusade of Ironjawz now rampaging around Ennulia is being called the Rust Waagh. View attachment 60385
Awesome that, I love Orange - would love to do an Orange scheme one day. Maybe on Skaven.
Literally as I just typed that my package arrived with the core book, GHB and my FEC starter which is pleasing to say the least!
As far as monthly goals go I'm going to try and get 10 Ghouls done - I'd rather start off fairly modest and while we're early doors, I've also got kids so when it comes to any sort of wargame hobbying, my rule of thumb is always aim modest, then dial it down a notch again, that way anything extra's a bonus!
I love the idea of adding in our army lores and will enjoy that facet of this. I'll hopefully throw up some WIP's in the next few days and ideally some lore, but to give you a rough idea, the concept for the army is they are going to be "counts as" Blisterskin. The TL,DR it's a Cannibalistic cult that thinks it's actually the most holy and pure people going. Sort of if
The Descent and
The Hills have Eyes saw themselves as being divinely mandated as my take on the Blisterskin concept.
The core idea is they were actually a Crusading army (or were to be part of a multi-city coalition) sent out by a City. En-route to their destination they were ambushed by a force of Orruks that had been tracking them, (likely my own Bonesplitterz force for funsies) and utterly routed. The few survivors fled into the deserts (possibly even the Great Parch as all of my armies so far are from Aqshy) and the group slowly dwindled down to a few dozen and by chance (spoiler: it was more than just chance) the half starved, dehydrated, sun burnt and utterly delirious few who made it this far stumbled upon a rocky outcrop that was actually merely the exposed tip of a massive rock formation - more like a submerged mountain even - hidden by the sands and extending deep into the earth below. It turned out to be honey-combed with tunnels and a bewildering array of natural vaults and chambers.
To the no longer wholly sane and equally raw skinned survivors this could only be a miracle - a sanctuary revealed to the faithful by Sigmar himself. It even had several natural wells in the deeps. Some claimed they had begun hearing a voice speaking to them in the deeper areas, but now was not the time to explore those. Naturally the remaining flagellant contingent both echoed these sentiments of divine intervention, but also saw their horrific burns as both penance and sign of devotion. Something to be endured.
Sought after to the fullest extent one could, and began to become de facto leaders of the surviving band.
Of course water is all well and good, but body and soul need more substantial....nourishment. None could say exactly how long it was before the first poor wretch to die from the infection resulting of their sun-ravaged skin was put in the proverbial pot. The voice from the depths seemed to approve though, and the man who came to be known as the Cardinal claimed this was surely the voice of Sigmar. Things moved quickly from then on and even the formality of waiting for the ill to die slipped away.
It started (as it so often does) with the weak, the sick, and those who spoke out against it. For a while some even maintained the requisite shred of humanity to cast tearful, shame filled eyes to the cavern floor as they lined up to accept their "portion" before slinking off alone, sobbing and wretched to eat their tainted meal in the darkness. These souls often found themselves the first to be the wrong side of the spoon, until in the end only the faithful remained, and they had identified nearby caravan routes (
surely plied by heathens) that would make rich pickings, for even with the threat of the faithful, it was the only route that would not add months or even years to crossing the ocean of sand.
Over centuries their numbers have swollen, they have expanded to found other sanctuaries and they have utterly devolved. Local tribes and even some cities know that this area of the desert is cursed and travellers know to fear the sky. Of course one cannot be watching both the skies and the rocks at the same time, and so the faithful eat well. Some dark power has even worked to mutate the degenerate creatures by granting them wings. Hymns are sung and there is much feasting when a member of the flock ascends to angelhood in this manner and it seems increasingly common that Sigmar sees fit to bless them by inducting more and more into the ranks of his Prosecutors (for make no mistake, in their twisted delusions the faithful see these bat winged monstrosities in the full pomp and glory of being nothing less than gilt-armoured, white pinioned Stormcast of the same name). Surely a sign that the time is nigh to take up arms once more and fight the good fight of Crusade.
And so it is that by day the faithful, like lizards, crawl out of the dark places and offer of their bodies to the gaze of the harsh, judgemental sun. It wasn't long until this became the face of Sigmar himself, of course. When they can no longer stand it they retreat to the dark and cool sanctuary of the tunnels, to meditate and reflect on matters spiritual, while knowing they are truly blessed in his sight. But they also know such a bounty cannot be accepted with mere blasphemous indolence. The God-King saved them and taught them the true meaning of endurance, the power of mortification of the flesh, and true faith. Into this world of filth and darkness there
will be light. Their long forgotten crusade will continue and the unbelievers will face the wrath of his Angels, made pure by his shriving light. And of course, there is the matter of revenge. They recently destroyed a group of interlopers on the edge of the desert. Their Heraldry curiously similar to the sacred garments and relics from the before-time. It was then the Cardinal realised that the city of their birth was clearly in the grip of unbelievers, and the usurpation of their sacred symbols could not stand. This was the final slap in the face - they would gather their strength no more - the problem was worse than he ever dreamt possible and now the wicked will submit to the truth of Sigmar or burn in his light.