+ inload: New camera, old – and new – models +

+ inload: Witness the marvels of the Mechanicum +

+ I've upgraded my phone, which means future pic-captures should be slightly improved. +

+ Not being the most technically-minded person in the world, I'm sure I'm not quite getting the best out of it, but even these quick snaps are an improvement over my old phone in terms of sharpness and white balance. +

+ Anyway, enough technobabble. What better showcase than my own minion of the Machine God, Magos Manderghast? He's particularly precious because I (rather stupidly) left him on a table at Warhammer World after a visit. +

+ Fortunately, some kind soul handed him in, which rather affirmed my faith in humanity; and the staff at GWHQ very kindly sent him home free of charge. Thanks chaps! +

+ He's a very fragile miniature, so I was anticipating a fairly major repair job, but the damage was fortunately minor. Aside from the resin snapping on his servo arm, and his arm becoming detached, he was intact. A little glue fixed things right up. +

+ As you can see, the new camera's optical zoom means I'm getting better depth of field, so more of the figure is in focus, and I'm getting less issues with amount of light. The plus side of this is that you can see details like the text on his auspex-scanner thingies. The downside is that all the painting blemished will be visible! +

+ It's quite nice coming back to an old figure. I've always been pleased with Manderghast, who has a relatively simple but effective scheme; but had quite forgotten the heavy weathering on that chequered parchment, and the red overload area on the dial on his backpack. +

+ A dwarfen throng +

+  Dwarfs! Shadespire has my Warhammer autoglands secreting once more, so I built these over the weekend. +

+ Legio Nikator +

+ Slow but inexorable progress on the Titans of Legio Nikator. +

+ inload: Intrigue at Warehouse CCLIX – Part IV +

+ A  Warhammer 40,000 2nd Edition battle report – part IV+

+ This (much-belated!) inload stems from others – Part I of this battle report can be found here [+noospheric inloadlink embedded+], part II here [+noospheric inloadlink embedded+], and part III here [+noospheric inloadlink embedded+] +

+ When last we read about Warehouse CCLIX, the Church of the Astral Ascension were closing in on the Hangman's Rope, the personal retinue of Inquisitor Unfortunus Voke. +

Ferlinghetti and Tempest came sprinting across the plaza as Arcimboldo primed a krak grenade on the surface of the stasis pod. With a great roar, the explosive ruptured the stasis pod, denying its contents to the genestealer menace. Panting, the autoscribe reported silhouettes and blips appearing on his auspex. Time to be gone...

Purestrains darted from cover to cover as they raced across the ground, their claws skittering across the broken cobbles.

What was in the stasis pod? There was no time to investigate. Even as Sergeant Tempest kneeled down to pick through the hot remains, Arcimboldo grabbed her webbing and pulled her up, urgently pushing her and Ferlinghetti to move.

Meanwhile, Manderghast advanced to buy the Rope some more time. Trusting in his power armour and mechanical might to carry the day, he broke cover and spat hard light at a group of hybrids.

The Church were pouring into the area now, individuals and groups appearing on both flanks.

Cymgin and Toria, the guardsmen, kept cool heads as monstrous forms began to close in on them. Rattling autogun fire kept them advancing cautiously.

Manderghast put down one hybrid, and braced himself for an attack from the nearby group, rolling his shoulders to limber up.

Veck yelled for Tempest and Ferlinghetti to redouble their efforts. Arcimboldo had pushed them off in order to escape two purestrains, but their recalcitrance forced him to turn back to face both monsters.

They charged, and his flashing blade leapt up into an en garde position. This would be the fight of his life...

Heeding Veck's orders, Manderghast let off a couple of warning shots, then ducked back behind the alehouse and began running back to the escape route.

Veck watched powerless as his forces fell back... Had destroying the stasis pod prevented a future disaster, or merely delayed things? That it was precious was clear, and he cursed inwardly that the Rope had been unsuccessful in retrieving it intact. However, this was a case of life and death now – and his team had still to escape.

+++

+ The concluding part can be found here [+noospheric inloadlink embedded+] +

+ inload: Storage and display +

+ I think miniature figures look best within some sort of larger setting, diorama or large base that makes them look ornamental, such as bell jar displays, which make them look appealingly like Victoriana. As a result, while I'm proud of the figures I paint, they're not necessarily the first thing I want on display.+

+ Most of my figures are thus packed (fairly) neatly in storage or otherwise away from sight. Mostly, they lurk in the excellent Kaiser Rushforth [+noospheric inloadlink embedded+] cases I own, which stack up in a cupboard and keep things safe. +

+ This was also useful when I was renting, as they're sturdy enough for transport. Now I'm a bit more settled down, my thoughts have turned to having something rather more decorative in which to store my figures. In any case, my Court of the Sun King project, being a lot more 'arty' than my usual stuff, offered a perfect excuse for a small, elegant box. As a result, I've been looking around for a writing slope. Yesterday, it arrived: 

+ Gaze in wonder at the pink polka dot wallpaper the previous owner put in the spare room +

+ It's walnut and brass, and is decorative enough that I'm happy to have it out on display, as I think it's a beautiful thing in and of itself. It's not purely form over function, however... + 

+ The cotton wool things are explosion markers +

+ The top storage is usually upside-down when the slope is in box form, so I don't want to store figures there. However, it's ideal for all those bits that I always used to lose – measuring tape, templates, dice etc. It'll also store objective markers, rulebooks, army lists and other bits that don't mind being bumped about a bit. This is invaluable for me; I've got a terrible habit of turning up at my mates' house with an army, but missing the rest of the stuff I need to play! +

+ The other end is the business end. Here, figures can be stored – I'll be cutting a small amount of foam to shape in order to keep them a bit more secure and snug during travel. Note that there's also space for brushes, paints and pencils, so it'll double-up as a portable paint station. There's not a huge amount of space for storing figures, so it wouldn't work for a big 40k-scale army, but it's ideal for the smaller number of figures that the Court of the Sun King project will include. +

+ Quite aside from transport and storage, I'm hoping this box will be practical during gaming, by offering somewhere to place rulebooks, dice etc. and generally keep the table itself clear of clutter. +

+ I like to think it's the sort of thing that Inquisitor Veck would have; and so it's a fun little pseudo-'in universe' prop, too. Little details like this all help to add to the atmosphere, and remind us that we're exploring imaginatively, not just rolling dice. +

+ inload: Members of The Blenheim 2014th +

+ The Blenheim 2014th +

+ I'm very happy with how these guys are coming along. Here's the final two members of the first Hand; a pair of soldiers from the Blenheim MMXIVth (the same regiment as The Two of Beasts, Thorna Tempest, who can be seen in the first image):

+ inload: The Sun King's war +

The war, the war. It had not reached every quarter of the vast City; though the ever-present dull glow on the horizon reminded even the most well-ensconsed Wellborne that nobody was truly safe. The initial assault had broken the Cyng-in-exyle's meagre forces and driven them from the City in short order; though the Cyng-in-exile himself was still at large. While some loyal – or foolish – romantics clung, red-eyed, to the idea that the interloping Sun King would be driven out eventually, the result was clear from the start.

Despite this certainty, it was a messy war, being fought by sides that were obscure or unclear. A regiment might fight alongside another before facing it the following day. Groups that were soldiers in name alone marched where ordered, in rags, ribbons and flounces, clearing and burning buildings and habitations that they had trooped through to welcoming cheers not weeks before. Prisoners were executed, or clapped in chains and led off weeping, back to the Palace. Ranks of ragged and dirty soldiers glowered at each other over cobblestones, slick with blood and rubbish and nightsoil, as they clashed again and again; as though toys propelled by idiot children. 

It was a messy war, but not unusual. The folk of the City had seen the incomprehensible internecine wars of the Wellborne fought for generations. Older inhabitants leaned back and smugly told their descendants of older wars survived through guile and courage and cunning – qualities often suspiciously at odds with what those descendants knew of the teller's character. They told of hardships endured and Masterships changing hands; they recounted the different masters to whom they had sworn eternal fealty. Such a war was to be expected, they said. It will pass, they said. Few such folk believed the Cyng-in-exyle's defeat would bring the conflict to an end. The interminable strife and sniping between the Wellborne, and the gang warfare and street brutality this bred were as unchangeable facts of life as the rising and setting of the sun, or the glittering stars in the heavens. 

If the past was any teacher at all, the people knew that the war would be followed by a new and different leader; a new burgomaster or Seer-o'-the-Quarter, and perhaps the announcement of a new Welleborn familyhead to whom they must swear their undying loyalty. It was the way of things. The people knew a new Welleborn would demand taxes, hardship, suffering. To the Welleborn families themselves, the war had proven an ideal excuse to air generation-old grievances and battle openly in the streets; their usual rude thugs supplemented with queer archeotech, off-world trained soldiery, or smuggled high-tech firearms like plastek-clad chatterrifles and iron wands that projected flames. 

If the Sun King cared, he made no sign. 

+++

Displaced populations of now-destroyed villages long-swallowed up by the City were likely to take up arms to find a new quarter to settle: driving out the current inhabitants with cudgel and club, in a domino sub-war beneath that fought by the uniformed swordsmen. As always, it attracted mercenaries - from outside and inside the city. At least bloodshed was honest, they said. At least killers didn't make you pay for the privilege. At least the war was exciting - albeit briefly, for most such new warriors. Towns and quarters rifled their pockets or stripped their stores to hire protection. Most mercenary regiments were the regular rabble; broken-toothed drunkards and brutes who made their living by the halberd. Those from inside the City were commonly newly-minted mobs of angry inhabitants, driven as much by homelessness as idealism. Some came from abroad; exotic and storied regiments arrived at the Docks or the many City Gates to seek payment and adventure. Some had names were as old and famous as folk-tale; others were strange in their speech and their war-art.

For the best part of six months, the gathering fora and market squares were as likely to ring to the clash of polearms and halberds – and the occasional snap of timewornlaslocks or frag-bomb – as they were to the everyday squabbles and fistfights of daily life. After a few months or the war settled into a grumbling, smouldering state. The rattled populace become dulled, resigned to their new war-torn life. As with any other war, the people muttered in beer-halls and gathering places; as likely to cheer the Sun King's actions as bringing some excitement and change as they were to complain of shortages or brutality.

In truth, it almost seemed as though the Sun King was prolonging the conflict, gradually scouring different areas of the City - haphazardly, seemingly at random. The Sun King's soldiers did not question orders. Cepeheans were nothing if not obedient. Warehouses were emptied and burned to the ground, or weaponless villages turned over by artillery. No-one seemed to know why. 

+++

If this seemed strange, the seventh month saw the war become very unconventional indeed. The Sun King himself took to the streets. The people took notice – It was rare to see even a minor Welleborn touch the flagstones, and no-one could remember a Cyng fighting himself. It was something from myth, a fabulist's tale. 

His forces were equally wondrous. Some, of course, were the familiar pikemen and musket-troops, the same scabby dregs as the crowds but ruffed and feathered in imported silks and cottons. Others wore seemingly magical clothes; drab and pied, that made them seem to disappear in plain sight. Off-worlders, they bore strange guns that spat like laslocks, but over and again. Besides these were occasional stranger figures; oddly proportioned in swaddling robes.

His mercenaries were not spindle-limbed and ragged men forced to find new homes; nor even those same folk dressed in glittering brocade and gleaming new arms. His mercenaries did not come from the distant towns or other countries. They were not like other mercenaries. They bore strange weapons. They came from other worlds.

Some were stranger still. Some came from further than other worlds – some came from the very myths and legends of the Imperium at large.

Some were terrifying.

+++

+ inload: Vanya de la Oawadh +

+ The Foure of Cüppes +

That there is no inherent defence from vice in being born to the teeming crowds of humanity that makes up the workers and ratings and slaves of the Imperium. No, there is no romantic proof against evil in being born poor, beyond perhaps the simple inability to extend that nascent native wickedness beyond a small pool.

For those at the other end of the social scale; for those vested in authority, or granted power and stewardship over others? Well, power, as is well-known, corrupts. Not always. Not inevitably. On such shifting foundations of certainty, on the thin ice between the righteous and the abominable is the Inquisition itself founded. 

For many Inquisitors – for myself – a level of pragmatism is appropriate in the exercise of my power. Should an Inquisitor sanction a bread-thief? No; for any goodness in the apprehension and punishment is far outweighed by the time wasted in pursuing bigger game. 

Eheu tempora. Forget the insidious temptations of the archenemy or the wiles of xenos' it is time that is our greatest foe. However, practicalities stand: since we cannot excruciate the flow of reality, it falls to us to prosecute that within our grasp – the corruption of humanity itself – to the fullest of our ability. 

It is an aphorism: Send the keenest guards to watch the powerful.

Considerations, Vol IV. Unfortunus Veck

+++

'Only the insane have strength enough to prosper. Only those who prosper judge what is sane.' 

This could be the motto of the bloodthirsty de la Oawadh dynasty, a Welleborn family with roots stretching back centuries. 

Vanya de la Oawadh: Vidame of Yndbürch. Welleborn. Gadabout. Murderess.

A minor family; but one deeply entwined with the Throne of Cepheus. Vanya is of direct line – albeit nowhere near the heir apparent. As a result, the Materfamilias (for the de la Oawadh admit no man to have inherent authority over them) cares little for the Vidame's 'excursions'. Indeed, her murderous and petty proclivities – sadistic and violent – are glossed over as though a mere quirk.

Vanya runs with the street gangs of the Reddsmen's Quarter, suitably geographicly distant from her family's main assets – though she is no follower. Well-known and feared, she simply 'adopts' a gang as the whim takes her – inveigling her way in under a false pretence. Should a gangster recognise her; it is best he or she keeps their mouth sealed...

Augmented and enhanced, Vanya's whip-thin frame conceals horrifying strength and agility; and she is well-trained in the arts of fighting – and torture. Woe betide any who cross her.

+ inload: Scion of the Scarlet Blades +

+ The Scarlet Blades +

+ Sebastian Ottavus Arcimoboldo is a Space Marine of a dead Chapter. You can read about how he came to be in service to the Sun King here. [+noospheric inloadlink embedded+]. +

+ He's a big chap – pictured here next to a regular-sized human, Sergeant Thorna Tempest (a Victoria Miniatures model [+noospheric inloadlink embedded+]). While I've made lots of marines using this method, Arcimboldo is the first who's intended to be played alongside regular humans; which throws the size into perspective. You can see why fighting Astartes would be scary! +

+ Painting Arcimboldo +

+ Both a treat and a challenge to paint, it was wonderful to experiment with the freedom of making up my own Chapter scheme. When approaching something like this, I like to have a general visual in mind (in this case, orange armour with ivory lower legs) before I start, but to otherwise let things 'evolve' as I work. +

+ Why is this Scarlet Blade orange? Firstly, it's one of those rare colours that doesn't have an immediate association with any of the more familiar Chapters of GW's 'canon'. Secondly, it fit nicely with the warm Caravaggio-inspired palette of Venetian reds and yellows that I'm using for the broader project (the name of the marine's a nod to the Italian master). Taking a lesson from history helps a journeyman brush-jockeys like me! I'm no old master, but reading around and taking inspiration from historical artists is a great way to find a palette that works. Thirdly, I'm contrary. I didn't want to take the obvious route with the Chapter name and just to paint him red. I think orange suited well. +

+ With the colour scheme in mind, I primed him red, then set to with my old favourites, the GW Foundation range – Solar Macharius Orange for the majority of the armour; Dheneb Stone for the legs, head, candles and flames; and Charadron granite for everything else. I then set to working up the areas with highlight layers before washing in shading (using a mix of GW washes and W&N sepia ink). This went back-and-forth a bit as I refined and dirtied things to get a nice lived-in feel; then I used glazes of W&N scarlet and orange inks to build up the depth of colour on the orange. The result is (well, hopefully) a smouldery, believably martial orange. +

+ Making up a Chapter symbol can be a challenge – it needs to be iconic, so that it's visually understandable; but it also needs to be distinctive. The name of the Chapter – Scarlet Blade – obviously suggested a weapon of some sort, but I didn't want to be too obvious, so I went for a scimitar rather than a straight sword. This gives a less obviously European feel, which helps differentiate him from other Chapters, and also hints at a slightly piratical nature. +

+ I mentioned earlier that I didn't want to take the obvious route, but felt I had to include at least some red somewhere, so I opted to make the Chapter symbol scarlet. This wouldn't have read out against the orange of the armour, so I added a white shield behind the symbol. In addition to visually separating the red and orange, it also gives the Chapter symbol a bit more breadth and visual impact. +

+ Arcimboldo's divided loyalties – to his lost Chapter, and to the Sun King – are shown on his pauldron. In front of the pauldron is a tilt shield with a simplified mediaeval-style sun face. This marks him as part of the Sun King's coterie. (At least for the moment...) +

+ Making a 41st Millennium marine for a change (most of my Astartes are set in the far-off Heroic age of the Horus Heresy) was very enjoyable, as it let me create something with more extraneous detail for that gothic feel. In this case, a skull reliquary on the backpack, and a few relic bones (perhaps of a Chapter mate?) on his hip. Skulls don't always have to be bone-coloured, of course – I opted to paint the backpack one silver; as otherwise it wouldn't read out against the white candles. +

+ The candles were a bit of a pain. In an ideal world, I would have tweaked them so the flames were guttering directly upwards, or following the movement of the figure more closely. However, they're so fragile that I didn't want to risk snapping them off or heating them. Details like these are important – but equally, sometimes a compromise can prove better in the long run. Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good! + 

+ Note that I could equally have painted the candles black, or another contrasting colour, should the hue of the skull have been critical to the background or scheme. The important thing is that areas are broken up visually – either by hue, tone or simple blacklining. This is sometimes a way to jog your imagination and come up with something more creative. +

+ The black purity seals are an example of a similar visually-led decision (so the cloth stood out against the ivory-coloured lower legs) that feeds back into the background: black purity seals seem a great mournful visual that hints to the viewer of sorrow and regret. +

+ The right-hand pauldron traditionally shows a Marine's battlefield role. What would the last member of a Chapter wear? He can't really be a Tactical marine or similar. I decided he'd create himself a symbol. Arcimboldo's motivation is his search for any other lost Scarlet Blades there may be out there, so I created a simple lighthouse symbol to represent this. The chequered row beneath it adds a visual flourish. Chequers don't have to be black-and-white. +

+ The sword +

+ A good example of frustration and challenge was the sword. As I say, I usually do 30k stuff, which is a bit more martial and grounded, so for this 41st Millennium marine I included some more gothic and fantastical elements like the flaming sword. It was such a cool bit that I added it to the build pretty much at the last minute. +

+ This WIP shot shows the figure with the early highlighting and preshading in place, but before the tone is developed further. The flames are far too close in colour to the armour, which I really wanted to be the focus. How the heck do you draw attention away from a [+SCRAPSHUNTERRORABORT+]ing big flaming sword? +

[APPEND] + As an aside, Some of the red primer is still visible on the base rim, too. It's an unusual primer for me, as I generally use grey; but I wanted to experiment with red to see if it would help bring some warmth. + [/END]

+ Answer one was to paint the sword in a contrasting hue to make it stand out. I use a variety of blended blues. While the result is interesting, I didn't like it for two reasons. Firstly, it drew too much attention from the orange and white armour and the figure in general. Secondly, the blue was completely alien to the palette of the figure and the broader project. +

+ Blue is a bit of a safe colour for me as it's easy to work with, and it's been a mainstay of my palette for years. The Court of the Sun King project is intended to be pushing my painting, so I couldn't really stick with this colour blade, even if it does look quite good in isolation. +

 + The next approach was a very light blade, painted using white and a touch of yellow. The problem with this one was similar – too eye-catching. In addition, it was very bright, which doesn't make sense in terms of the broader figure – the light source should be casting stronger shadows on the figure. +

 + The final colour was – drumroll please – a mid-toned scarlet. This is different enough that it stands out against the orange, dull enough that the ivory reads, and also fits with the broader palette. Even though the final result isn't fantastic, I'm glad I persevered. As long as the result is improved overall, even an imperfect finish can be chalked off as successful. This figure will stay as a reminder to plan things a bit better next time! +

+ Hope you've enjoyed some ramblings about my painting process. If you'd like to read some more about Little Orphan Arcimboldo, you can read Nightfall and the Candle, a short story [+noospheric inloadlink embedded+] set many years before the events on Cepheus, which also involves a young Unfortunus Veck. +

+ inload: Magos Titus Manderghast +

+ Octavo d'Hands +

+ Extracted from Childeric's notes on Cepheus – Arrival Day +66; Feast-day of San Oltiman + 

+ The suit of Hands, of Second rank in the Cephean card deck, symbolises manual labour and integrity. Inverted, it symbolises indolence and intrigue. The suit corresponds equally to the material and immaterial (wrongfooting some scholars) as on Cepheus, logic and labour have always had associations with the dead. Ferlinghetti has suggested this may be a folk memory of the Tenth Legion Ishtari, though owing to the poor record-keeping of the Cepheans, this will likely always prove speculative. +

+ Perhaps none symbolise this duality; nor its religious connotations, more fittingly than my old associate, Titus Manderghast, of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Our flight from Purefinder Chaunterwickke – a nighttime flit I have no doubt our host was half-expecting, given her world-weary expression at our request for temporary lodging – has thrown my plans off-kilter. +

+ Perhaps worse, I now suspect that the Owlingmanne has a trail for us. While he has no jurisdiction over the affairs of the Inquisition, he could make things harder than they need be – particularly if he is in the employ of another party. There is something about this world that is peculiarly slippery. It is hard to make grip something that makes sense. +

+ We had been expecting the Magos to meet us clandestinely at the dockside inn with the sign of the ratfish; but he never showed. As a result, my small band – Ludi, Ferlinghetti and myself – find ourselves inside a wheel-cart driven by Northgrass, heading for the open waters. I must confess to finding the size of the City is bewildering. While I have seen larger settlements – the Suduko Hive on Exercitus is clearly both larger and more populous – there is something peculiar in the rambling overgrown streets of this vast and confusing place. No wonder water is such a scarcity; the hidden rivers must be barely fluid. +

+ I had expected the Widdershins docks to be no more than a day's journey, but with the War raging, Northgrass estimates it will take us more than a week. Even then, Ferlinghetti tells me that they do not mark the edge of the city. Instead, he tells me the city clambers down precipitous cliff-faces, the wooden and pottery structures clinging precipitously atop one another and over the open sea for many miles, like a bridge of blindants crossing a stream. +

+ I can only hope that Manderghast has the information I require. The last time we parted was on Braun VI; and even then he had become somewhat erratic. Doubtless his time spent on this benighted planet has done little to improve the balance of his humours. +

+ It has come to this then; travelling in a splintering coach over bone-shaking cobbles, with a thin supper of canned vardines and pity-seeds for our Saint Oltiman's feast. +

+ Painting Magos Titus Manderghast +

+ A very enjoyable figure to work on, Manderghast was a great chance to depict a side of the Adeptus Mechanicus that I've always liked. Essentially, low-level Magi are as ignorant as anyone else in the Dark Millennium, but bloody-minded enough to follow screeds of irrelevant doctrine and belief in the lares and penates of the 'Machine Spirits' that happen to contain a kernel of relevance – or to put it another way, they follow the holy writ of pulling the choke out just so, before pulling halfway back on the throttle, muttering 'come on come on come on' to yourself and then turning the key to get your car turning over. +

+ It's the same school of thought that pleading with your computer to start up more quickly, banging the side of the television to tune it, or closing and reopeing a program over and over again until it loads. It's mindless, repetitive and bears little relevance to what's actually wrong – and it's perfect for the black humour of lost knowledge in the 41st Millennium. +

+ I wanted the robe to look rust-red, a combination of labcoat, engineer's overalls and priestly vestements. The paint scheme is very limited: orange, yellow, black and white; with a hint of purple and metal. I really, really enjoyed working up the reds and oranges with washes and inks and layers... Great fun; and I'm looking forward to giving the same colours a go on Manderghast's underlings. +

+ This shot is pre-basing; I rarely make major adjustments after this point, but commonly add a little freehand before I declare it absolutely finished. In this case, I added a little red capital to the text on his scanner screen (in his left hand) and a red stripe on the circular badge on his forehead. + 

+ It's surprising what a difference the grass tufts and drybrushing on the base make to the overall finish – and they took no more than thirty seconds. +

+ To bang on a bit about him, I think I'm most pleased with the decision to give him blonde hair. It's very easy to make members of the Adeptus Mechanicus look entirely robotic, or use too much near sci-fi in their look. To me, they should look as much like mediaeval priests as cyborgs. +