What a waste of money they turned out to be. After Johann was made mayor, Joe brought it the nastiest members of his clan to run security. He couldn't risk his meal ticket being hurt in anyway. After they let him down, Joe punished them with the same spells he used on the dumber members of his family and cursed them to serve him in death.

Old man Joe knew his boy Johann was going to be his ticket to power. Joe had him educated in all the most prestigious boarding schools the Empire had to offer. He even captained the snotball team at Altdorf University where Joe had to pretend to care and even bought one of those stupid "We're #1" gloves. After graduating with honors, Johann boy even did a stint in the Imperial Navy where he captained a small patrol while raiding some villages in the far east. 

Everything went sour though, on that parade Johann had. See, Joe had to make some deals with some of the seedier elements in town to help sway Johann's mayoral campaign. But then, Johann and Rupert didn't seem to care who they owed. Instead, Johann took to the ladies while Rupert actually started trying to arrest those same people that Joe owed! And that's why Johann took a crossbow bolt to the face.

Old Joe tried to use all his magics to save him. He burned through every expensive ingredient while making Rupert exhaust himself in support. But all Joe could do was raise a shambling corpse. Things go even worse after Rupert was also murdered. Rupert wasn't Johann, and therefore wasn't important, so Joe has his corpse thrown into the town dump. After having put forth his blood, sweat, and tears trying to raise Johann, Rupert's soul was enraged when he saw that his father didn't even come to claim his own body. With this rage, Rupert was born anew, as a wraith intent on haunting his father for all eternity.

So a short post this week, but this has been one I've been wanting to publish for awhile. For a proper Oldhammer photograph, you need a proper old school backdrop!

Shak'nar knew he had the favor of the gods as another warrior wandered from the chaos wastes to join his band. Clearly the gods were blessing him with more followers as a reward for his magnificence. His band of loyal marauders had already taken the skulls of Hezvax the slimy and debauched themselves upon the warband of Abagor Buldadred. It was only a matter of time before he controlled the greatest army in all the chaos wastes!

Many years ago, the Great Enchanter Drachenfels was defeated by brave adventurers. Now, playwright Detlef Sierck plans a production showing these events – at the site of the necromancer's death. But the dead do not rest easy…

-Drachenfels, Black Library 

The one known as Sordidum Mala stood before the walls of the imperial palace, its giant eye, where no eye should be (for it was machine not man), weeping for the horrors it had seen. But the malevolent  thing that now resided in it cared not for those horrors because it was interested in one thing -- death. 

No one is really sure from who these titans were, but as Horus advanced on Terra they came. They came from the far east, where no titan legions were known to be stationed and they bore no recognizable markings. When hailed, only garbled and guttural sounds responded, although, very occasionally, the names Interfectorem Exspiravi and Upsilon Deus could be heard. The armies of Horus did not waste much time attempting to communicate with them; these titans were heavily blessed by the four Powers and their loyalty was not an issue. And slay in the name of Horus, they did...

Scabnose has been on a scouting mission around the burgh of Mittelmark when Necroburgher's curse was unleashed and was damned just the same as the town's residents. Goblin brains, however, are not as advanced as other inhabitants of the old world. So when Scabnose returned to the goblin encampment, well, no one really noticed. A zombie goblin doesn't smell any worse than a regular goblin, nor are they any less intelligent (a sad indictment on the intelligence of goblins in general). Sure, he talked less than he used to, but who really wanted to hear him talk anyway? So with no good information to pass on, since Scabnose could only repeat "brains...," the goblin encampment moved on and took Scabnose with them.

"The all enclosing armor was really a development of again my historical information, you know, the idea of like Medieval armor with knee armor that had to articulate, you know that the feet would have to articulate but still be armored. These are common elements in Medieval play armor, full play armor. The helmet, again, we knew it was fully enclosed. We knew that these guys were going to be I suppose kind of like Roman soldiers. So they were like legions. There were going to be loads of these guys, loads of them. So the helmet was loosely based on I suppose like a Roman legionary’s helmet with neck, neck protector, ear protectors that roll-over the ear, and sometimes you would have a heavy browband … Now, the backpack was kind of, in design terms, again it was almost kind of like it had a historical root in my mind, in the sense that it is a cylindrical form at the top which was — you could say it was like based on a rolled blanket from historical periods, like the Napoleonics. There was a backpack type shape in the center, which if anything probably resembles like a Second World War American GI’s backpack. Then the nozzles at the bottom were surrogates for some of the equipment packs that I referred to earlier on. So that the guy looked like he always had equipment with him.

-Bob Naismith, during testimony in Games Workshop Limited v. Chapterhouse Studios LLC (N.D.Ill 2013)

The fungus brew was almost ready. Skabrot stirred it slowly in the bubbling cauldron, waiting until Gork (or was it Mork) told him it was ready...but he knew it would be soon. And when it was, he would fill the wineskins full so that he could give it to the most faithful of the clan. Then, and only then, would he also give them the large ball and chains with which they were going to smash them stunties with...

"Ere now! Wot do you think you're doin'?" bellowed the big Black Orc Boss. Furtive Goblin faces turned round and flinched instinctively. 

"Nuffink Boss, just 'aving a bit of grub is all," whimpered the bravest of the greenskins.

"Don't give me that. Yer up to sumfink..." The towering Orc looked around suspiciously. "Where's Ratgash? You 'aven't et im?" There was a shocked silence.

"Et Ratgash," the Goblin sounded hurt. "'Et Ratgash. That's disgustin' Boss. E's one of us ladz."

"Besides," squeaked another greenskin "'E's all grease and gristle 'im. Give us all innagestion e' would." 

"Then who is this then?" The Black Orc pointed a damning claw towards the meal. "And none of yer lies or I'll give yer sumfink a whole lot worse than innagestion."

"Well that's all right then," pronounced the Black Orc. "Carry on. And you'll save me a leg if you know what's good for you."

So it has been quite a few months now since GW released the new Contrast Line of paints. And I have been playing around wiht them for a little while now. So here are some of my experiments. I find they are great on certain types of models, namely most historical models, skaven, genestealer cults, and other models with a ton of texture. I've had less luck with them on things that lack any texture. I've also found them great for weathering and through an airbrush.

The Cult of the Jade Destroyer was getting restless. The Magi were not ready to strike, but the brothers were growing tired of toiling in the mines below the deserts of Choutera IV. Drekker had his boys training as often as they could, but the plebs who ran the mines needed to see the work done or they would get suspicious. Still, he had been blessed by the gods with an extra limb, so they listened. But he could only hope that the time for uprising would been soon.

Ain Dawison was born in the World's Edge mountains. But at an early age, his father took his family halfway across the world to Albion to oversee a mining project. He spent his formative years growing up in the secretive isles of Albion and amongst the strange people who inhabited it. However, as he neared maturity, he began to be affected by the wanderlust that affects all settled people as they reach adulthood. So he left Albion to see the world. He eventually signed up with Malakai Makaisson and his Dwarfen Air Force (DAF), where he worked "security." His time in the DAF let him seek his fortune and fame, kill the bad guys, and meet plenty of Dwarfen ladies. Eventually, he did his tours and returned home to settle down. But once a Dwarf has a taste for adventure...

“Kill kill kill kill kill the poor toni-i-i-i-ght”

-Dead Kennedys

“I cannot quite remember exactly how and when the decision to head southwards in search of the lost gold of Karak Eight Peaks was made. Alas, like so many of the important decisions made during that period of my life, it was taken in a tavern under the influence of enormous quantities of alcohol. I do seem to remember an ancient and toothless dwarf mumbling about “gold”, and I distinctly remember the insane gleam which entered into my companion’s eyes when it was described to him.

‘It was perhaps typical of my companion that on no more than this slim provocation, he was willing to risk life and limb in the wildest and most barren places imaginable. Or perhaps it was typical of the effect of “gold fever” on all his people. As I was later to see, the lure of that glittering metal had a terrifying and potent power over the minds of all of that ancient race.

‘In any event, the decision to travel beyond the Empire’s southernmost borders was a fateful one, and it led to meetings and adventures the dreadful consequences of which haunt me still…’”

— From My Travels with Gotrek, Vol. II,

by Herr “Felix Jaeger (Altdorf Press, 2505)”

"Load the torpedoes!" Thorin shouted. The Skaven fleet was approaching fast, as those chaos scum always did--on both land and sea. Most of the crew around him grumbled. Dwarfs were not usually fond of water, and these dwarfs were in a cramped tube below the waster's surface--further heightening their agitation. But the skaven had been attacking Zhufbar far more frequently of late, and their defense necessitated the fleet to out patrolling the waters around the city. Once they sank a few of the ratmen to the briny deep, he was sure his crew's mood would improve...