I've had quite a lot of things going on, so my blog here has suffered a little decline. But now I'm back, and ready to fulfill my oaths! Today's post will describe the background of my army and show some photos on my army's progress on the painting table.
I finished the shield Warriors by giving them a wash in Nuln Oil and painted the four remaining Thunderers, after which I washed them too. Photos included :D
On we go, to the story!
Sun was high, spreading its warming rays across the corpse-strewn battlefield in the eastern part of the Empire, near the town of Dukenhof. Or what remained of it.
Half a week ago the town had been raided by a group of vicious Dark Elves, the inhabitants slain or enslaved and the buildings put to the torch. Nothing was left behind except for a few burned houses and piles of charred bodies.
Soon after this unfortunate occurence the local Elector Count had decided that no state troops would be sent to the forests to chace down some pointy-ears when they had something better to do. This dirty job would be left to those who lived by it.
Cannons roared and an elven formation broke, the survivors abandoning their spears and shields to scatter into the four winds. Ungrim Ironhelm smiled under his glorious bush of a beard. His mercenary army had been hired for the job. After two days of forced (and drunken) march, they had brought the elves to battle in the outskirts of the burned town. Battlelines had been drawn and his Iron Company had begun to mow down the raiders with deadly accurate artillery fire, and their shieldwalls had thwarted every Dark Elf attempt of an attack before they could reach the batteries.
Ungrim was a son of a renowned blacksmith, originating from the Hold of Karak Izor. After inheriting his father's forge, fame and knowledge, Ungrim had lost it all in a drinking competition, the very same night he was celebrating this honor and having a drink for his late father's memory. The shame had been unbearable, but rather than shaving his head and becoming a Slayer, Ungrim decided to strike out as an axe-for-hire, and soon he had massed a considerable band of eager companions and followers.
Soon after marching out of his beloved Karak Izor at the head of a dwarven mercenary force, he had joined cause with a Thane from the Bronzebeards Clan. This unfortunate noble had been driven out of his home by his wife, to come back when he could pay his drinking depts and behave more respectively. This union brought a good deal of stalwart red-shirted warriors and venerated war machines under Ungrim's command.
A disciplined formation of dwarves weathered a thundering charge from the enemy Cold One Knights, breaking their momentum and hacking them apart with their great axes. Their green tunics were soon drenched in blood.
"Not bad of you Helheiners," Ungrim said to the green-cloaked Thane standing beside him. "Aye, your cannons did their part, too" the Thane answered with a hint of disgust on his face.
Clan Helhein had crossed the Iron Company's path not two months ago, and many of them were intrigued by the chance to fill their wagons with gold and spoils of war. They were a conservative lot, shunning the use of handguns and cannons, but determined fighters nonetheless. They brought crossbow-armed Quarrellers and warriors with great axes under Iron Company's banner, as well as an old but little used Flame Cannon.
This multi-coloured mercenary army had gathered many followers during its trip through the mountains, and now they were doing battle once again.
Helhein Quarrellers rained volley after volley of bolts into the enemy ranks, and the Thunderers blasted apart every enemy lucky enough to get closer. Warriors from all the three clans stood shoulder to shoulder in a great shieldwall, turning aside elven charges again and again and again.
A thunderous crack resounded across the field, and Ungrim turned to look at the direction of the sound. A Runelord he had persuaded to join him back at Karak Izor was standing behind his Anvil of Doom, chanting and banging the anvil's runes with his hammer. A mighty bolt of lightning flew from the anvil, arching across the skies and cominc down on a unit of Dark Elf crossbows. Ungrim heard their screams as their skin charred and eyes boiled in their heads.
The enemy was at breaking point.
"Come on, lads! Let's call it a day and finish this!" Ungrim Ironhelm bellowed, holding his runed warhammer high above his head and charging down the hillside. A green-red-and-blue tide of furious beards followed not far behind, their warcries echoing into the distance: "IRONHELM! IRONHELM! IRONHELM!"
