The dead do not rest peacefully along the tainted borders of Praag. The city long ago became a distended hive for daemons and other warped creatures. The walls wail with the souls of the trapped and butchered. The graveyards and churches are now haunted by beings not quite living, not quite dead and not quite sane.
But still there are noble souls in the city, or at least something like that.
Stomping, grunting and galloping up and down the length of Praag’s great walls are thirteen horesemen, knights of an unknown order who stand in eternal vigil. Twisted and broken by the powers of Chaos, these beings know no rest.
Whether they be daemon, undead or some almagamation of both, no one can be sure. Some bear the arms and armour of Norse Marauders, others the ragged colours of Empire knights. One amongst them even carries Elder blades and wears a phoenix helm. Whatever their previous allegiance, it is obvious that they now serve a greater, more mysterious master. Repelling invaders and looters from the Northlands, mountains and great cities alike, they are silent guardians of the entombed city.
The Thirteenth Horseman was a fun little conversion, made largely from the bitz-box of my local hobby store. I remember spotting a cute “skeletaur” conversion in one of the very first Golden Demon publications (all the way from the 80s). It’s really liberating and enjoyable to challenge yourself with “complex” conversions for the simple sake of creating, instead of hacking and pasting weapons for WYSIWYG gaming.
The most challenging parts of this conversion were those involved in making the Horseman look like he was “leaping” over the barricade. I had to do a bit of cutting and greenstuffing around the back legs to make the plastic horse skeleton to “rear up”. It’s quite simple to do this, just follow the contours already in place as designed by the modeller, cut into them and then fill the space with greenstuff. It can be painful to watch it slowly droop and fall apart as the greenstuff dries, but just hold it in a neutral position so that the weight does not pull it down. Look for more of a tutorial on this in the future!
The painting style was very much inspired by the recent influx of “Blanchitsu” warbands and, in particular, the blog Ex Profundis, one of my favourite hobby websites ever!
The Horseman’s armour is caked with grave grime (made from GW’s new crackle texture paints)
The Horseman leaps and bounds over the graves of the unquiet dead
An ancient battlefield stands silent as the grave, frozen over
The Boo-Ha-Ha Clan are a famously good-humoured Night Goblin clan that, long ago, infested the ruins of Lugrumdumbz and the nearby mountain passages near the infamous city of Krüll. They have a propensity for practical jokes and sabotage, as well as an incredible thirst for potent Fungus Brew.
The Goblins of The Boo-Ha-Ha Clan are never happy unless they are heavily intoxicated. The clan is more often than not raiding distilleries or celebrating pointless, hilarious deaths in their dank hideout. More exotic and toxic fungi grow in their caves than almost anywhere in the North, which allows a healthy Squig population to exist. Soldiers and mercenaries should be aware that The Boo-Ha-Ha clan are highly specialized in Squigly warfare and have a large number of Fanatics among their ranks.
Though Imperial propaganda insists that the clan is relatively harmless, more likely to sleep off hangovers in their caves than come out to fight, this could not be further from the truth. Many a traveler has been caught off guard by hordes of Squigs and tornadoes of Fanatics that suddenly burst from the caves and ruins.
The First Wave – 2014
Da Boo-Ha-Ha Klan are, perhaps, my pride-and-joy army. You know the one, that force that captured your heart and imagination. The one you keep coming back to, refusing to call finished. That’s them for me. I love these little grinning, green guys.
This army was born out of a huge collection of unpainted Night Goblins from Battle for Skull Pass and Skaven from The Island of Blood. I hadn’t painted a “horde” style force before, and thought it would be an interesting challenge. After a month or so, I’d painted more than 100 Goblins and developed repetitive strain injury. But it was worth it.
There are a number of conversions among the ranks that I’d like to note and share, in particular the “Slaya” and the Hob-Goblins made from shaved Skaven slaves (with their tales cut off as well).
Grinna’s Gobbos and Squig Food
Da Lanky Ladz of Lugrumdumbz, converted from Skaven Slaves
Da Pointee Eyes
KORNAN DA OOGE
HE’S PRETTY OOGE
Mag Mag Da Exploder and AAAAAAGH Da Screamer
Squarg Da Unpleasant and Sid
Gobsmak Da Slaya
The plastic Dwarf Slayer served as an interesting base
Krüll was a large and beautiful city sitting near the Western entrance to The High Pass. For all of its promise and early glory, it quickly became a much maligned place. After a few decades, not many in the Empire would even admit that Krüll existed, or at least, that it was populated by any sort of civilised man.
In truth, Krüll was once great enough to match many of the Empire’s great cities in war, trade and culture, but it was these strengths would ultimately prove Krüll’s downfall. For all of Krüll’s glory, it was ruled by a base and brutal regime of pleasure lovers that rejected the rule of The Empire.
In gilded, ivory towers, the elite of Krüll wined and dined on the blood and labour of the poor. The dangers of the wastes outside and harshness of life in the poorer sections of the city meant nothing to the city’s lords and ladies. They lived well, safe in their towers, while the majority of the city slowly died in effort to feed them.
Slowly, but surely, the city turned foul and began to fracture. Cults dedicated to dark powers arose in both sides of Krüll. The high-society turned to the worship of a beautiful and devious entity they called Shalth, practicing ritual sacrifice and taking part in massive orgies for the pure pleasure of it. Down below, in the sewers and slums so neglected by the Lords, worship of a hugely-bloated, talking she-rat bearing the name of Ungalla began. The poor turned to magic and sacrifices of their own in an effort to assuage their daily pain.
Darkness rose over Krüll. Peasants and paupers took to brutal murder and theft. The Lords of Krüll continued to ignore their vassals, instead turning inwards to perverted arts. Many a man was turned inside out and splayed across a room simply because some Lady thought it was beautiful to see the walls painted red. The Eyes of the Gods turned towards Krüll.
Two warbands eventually descended upon Krüll. For what purpose, none could say. Perhaps it was to absorb the pools of dark power that had seeped into the walls of the city. Perhaps it was to recruit new warriors. Perhaps it was to destroy and plunder. The purpose hardly mattered in the end. They came, and with them they brought Chaos to Krüll.
The Heirophant was the first to arrive. On a slithering, unearthly steed, he rode up to the inner sanctum of Krüll unopposed by any guard. With him came a band of incredible warriors, seven foot tall at their shortest and clad in darkly glistening armour. Like a knife cutting through butter, The Heirophant (for he went by no-other name and never removed his immaculate armour) installed himself as the ruler of Krüll. The Lords and Ladies worshiped him, and in return, he taught them dark secrets and blasphemies that none should ever know.
After the Perfect One arrived the Putrid. Luvrot the Unbearable appeared in the sewers of Krüll, as if from the muck itself, surrounded by braying, rotting hounds. Luvrot killed and devoured the she-rat Ungalla in front of her poor, diseased worshipers and presented to them, instead, a greater god. Luvrot told of the Great Father of Plague and the twisted love that he bore for every living creature. The newly installed Lord of the Slums taught a hopeless and bleak gospel that caught on like wildfire. The lower class of Krüll accepted their glorious new role, to spread pain, fear and disease, and they did so, dancing through the streets and laughing all the while.
And so it was that Krüll became a city, not of men, but of Chaos. The inner struggles of the city quickly sorted themselves out and a new way of life was accepted. The Dark Gods, Nurgle and Slaanesh, ruled and from the unholy union was born a great army. The Flesh-Twisters rode forth, shambling plague carts beside beautiful stallions, intent on spreading woe and glorious death wherever they could sow it.
So here we go! The Flesh-Twisters of Krüll were one of my biggest army projects ever and my main table-top force for the majority of my gaming years. The project began with the release of the fantastic plastic Nurgle Lord and grew from there! I was so excited to finally be collecting a proper Warhammer Fantasy army (I’d painted Battle for Skull Pass before but never really expanded upon that), in about a week I’d amassed enough models for a 1,500 point force, including Warriors, wolves, The Heirophant himself and even a Hellcannon (in Finecast…)!
I would spend the next three years collecting and painting the terrible warriors from Krüll. The last major expansion I finished for the army was a small “Carnival of Nurgle” detachment that I added sometime in 2015.
The important thing to note about the Flesh-Twisters is the unified colour palette that draws the disparate aesthetics of Nurgle and Slaanesh together. The soft purple and bright blue is repeated on almost every model. On the Slaaneshi warriors, the bronze and splash colours are more pronounced. On the Nurglitch models, I’ve painted a lot of ooze, stitches, rust, etc. I think I overdid it with the cartoony “verdigris”, though. If I had the time and energy to go back and paint over it to make the bronze more, well, bronze, I definitely would.
Maybe some day soon, The Flesh-Twisters will ride again. But for now, I’m sure they’re happy committing their special brand of debauchery in the depths of their evil city.
The Heirophant himself! Masked sycophant, beautiful torturer!