Yet no word is uttered in those books of what may befall those, whose hearts are heavy with their own darkness or filled with torment. However, in the forbidden tomes held in sealed vaults under the very cathedrals of that holiest of cities it is said that with powerful incantations the dead that rest not can be called back.
In those unholy volumes, often writ on flayed skins of mortals with distilled blood of demon-kind, the words and runes required for such unholy magics is worked out in abhorrent detail. Where most evils lessen and become laughable when explained and examined thoroughly, such is not the case with these ruinous magics. Word by word, detail by detail, the knowledge of them grows more horrifying as it deepens. To read these words is to mar one's very soul, for the shadows of death trapped in fell ink cling to the mind of the reader, never to be washed away unless it be by the might of the Green Lady herself. But such a cleansing she has yet to attempt, and thus the healing power of the world is but a rumor and a futile dream for those whose eyes have fallen on these pages.
It is rare that one of these volumes should be found in the wider world, for the Paladins of Basilea have long sought after them and brought many back, to be held under lock, key and thrice blessed chains.
How it came to pass that one of their number was found missing, the unbreakable chains holding the tomes cut, and a wayward disciple gone missing, none can say. But come to pass it did and even as, a long count of years later, Tomlin galloped out of the ruined castle to face the blizzard rather than the turmoil that was called to rise again, the Word of Summoning was uttered in the small chapel in the middle of the ruins. Forth came not skeletons, nor zombies. Instead, the first to pass the stony gates of Death that groaned open, were pale, fluttering shades who wore no human face to cover their death.
It is said that the petty are the easiest to call back and bind into their decayed bodies, and the cowards only a little harder. The sapped souls of warriors who failed in their quests to better the world or already in life sought to spread ruin are also within reach of many a Necromancer, as are the fallen knights whose proud banners have been blasted to grey tatters in the merciless wind of the land of the dead.
The most difficult spirits to call, even as they are the most difficult to banish are the Wraiths; souls that have been held in the timeless dark so long that they have lost the last vestiges of the shapes they wore in life and have taken on hideous, emaciated forms of creatures that have ever dwelt in that lightless land. These it was that came streaming from the gates of death
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Greetings, KoWsters!
I finally managed to paint some more Undead and managed to add some Wraiths to my growing force. Originally I didn't much care for Mantic's wraiths, as the models looked a little, well, corny. After fiddling with the models a bit, I realized that I didn't have a problem with the models themselves, just the way most people paint and base them.
Looking at the unit's stats (bear in mind that I have yet to play a single game with Undead), the unit seems like a veeeery interesting one, albeit somewhat expensive. Excellent for pulling off some crazy charges with their Fly and Speed 10, rock hard with their De 6+ and okay in melee, they seem like a solid choice. I look forward to testing out some Surge shenanigans on the field!
The problem I had with the models, as they were, was that they didn't look like they were flying. Not afraid of some knife-work, I decided to cut the models from their round basing discs with a pair of pliers and then clean up the rest with a hobby knife. It was less of a bother than cutting restic bases of the Basilean horses, but one should make sure that when cutting restic, one's hobby knife should be sharp, and I mean really sharp. That material is tough!
I decided to go for a mass grave for the base, the idea being that the Wraiths are hovering/soaring above the base. I wanted to make sure they look like they fly. I used some home-made thigh bones and bits from the Revenant sprues to make a grave filled with all sorts of ghastly stuff, after making a trench out of wood filler. I tried to go for an exhumed look, but that didn't work out as well as I hoped. I should have made the slopes more dramatic. The pic also reminds that I really need to clean my paint station...
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As the Wraiths pass the door, they were followed by a near-formless shade whose form radiated loss and sorrow and tragedy. A shield he bore, with a pale sigil on it, and a suit of ancient armor, once noble but now ruined by timeless aeons of death. In his hand was a great blade, or the memory of a mighty sword given shape in the shadows. It gleamed with unholy deadliness and it whispered its name readily to all those who, at their life's peril, would listen: Remorse.
As the being that Tomlin had called his Master mouthed his incantations, the King Arisen crossed the threshold, being called back from death into an unlife that was worse than the dry land where he had waited. He cared not for the mumblings of the Necromancer whose words had but shown him the door, the fool held no power over him. Still, the King came forth once more to do battle. From death to life, to lose what hope of salvation remained, for in the cold realm of death, hope becomes the enemy.
Frankly, I don't much care whether he's an optimal choice or not, the Revenant King is just so frickin' cool as a character. Medium combat, medium Surge and a very high Nerve. What's not to like? I did a bit of conversion and a bit of kit-bashing to get the model to look the way I wanted him to look. While with my Wights (more of them here) I wanted to go for a look of active deadliness, but for this guy I wanted to go for a more relaxed look; blade down, hunched and definitely not in a hurry. Like he's so far beyond caring, so sure of the endlessness of his death that, while he fights with some skill, he does so with no passion.
For his base I went for a rocky outcropping thrusting out through snow, while ghostly undead are rising from under their icy graves at his coming. I found this necessary both because the model I used (just a slightly converted Revenant Cavalry) was relatively plain and because the paint scheme I'm using isn't flashy at all. There needs to be something happening on the base to make up for lack of complexity elsewhere.
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The spell ran out suddenly and the shape of the Master fell to the cold floor of the chapel.
The doors of grey stone leading down to the crypts under the keep, sealed all these many years, now stood open and the great marble slabs over the mighty warriors buried under the floor of the chapel had been ground to blowing dust, as if countless years had passed and worn them away. Now the graves underneath gaped open, like great toothless maws leading down to a darkness not of the world of the living.
He had called them back, the fallen warriors, the kings and the knights. Their unearned rest had now come to an end and whatever misfortunes would now be visited upon the living was their punishment. Had they stood and died, had they not faltered in their watch, then the spell could never have reached them, for into that brilliance no avenger could reach.
But they had faltered, they had cowered behind their high walls while the nightmares came and so they had fallen. Like barbed hooks, the spell had caught them in the deeps of death and pulled them back.
Some time later the Master rose from the floor, only to find his form beneath him, still laying on the stones. He had called them back, but had paid for it with the warmth of his life.
This guy, my necromancer, is another kit bash, this time from Wraiths and Revenants. I wanted to go for a totally ghostly look and the faceless hood from the Revenant sprue fit the bill spot on. The undead have a tragedy to them and so I wanted to go for a model more sad than sinister for this guy.
Next up, some tournament stuff if I manage to write a battle report!
Cheers,
AoW
