A blog about the minis I paint. It started out loosely based on the Talisman board game, but the side projects have gotten out of hand..
sunnuntai 30. elokuuta 2015
A Drow
Continuing with our AD&D Forgotten Realms campaign somewhere in frozen wilderness of Vaasa (or is it Vaasa?) I also managed to finish a mini for my goddaughter of her character. Durion, a head-strong, independent drow ranger, whose past and the reasons for her exile from the Underdark are shrouded in mystery, but who has proved herself quite handy at chopping up zombies and goblins.
keskiviikko 26. elokuuta 2015
The Vulture
Vultures were bad news also in 1932 (Victor Halperin: White Zombie, United Artists)
I sculpted the bird from modelling putty over a wire frame and took the colours from the turkey vulture*, indigenous to the Caribbean.
*Fun fact: Turkey vultures cool themselves through urohidrosis i.e. emptying their bowels and bladders on their well vascularized feet. The evaporating water from the feces removes heat from the circulating blood in the skin. Like sweating but far more disgusting.
perjantai 14. elokuuta 2015
Voodoo Woman
This ended up being a bit more graphic than what I usually write, so just in case: Warning, content not suitable for sensitive readers!
As for anyone willing to read on, get your boots on, because we're going to be knee-deep in pulp.
The name of the sorceress de Belleville is spoken in fearful whispers throughout the islands. But when she was born, she was named Joséphine. Her mother was Marie, a slave on the plantation Éden, surrounded on all sides by swamps and thick jungles and owned by Joséphine's father, the marquis de Belleville who paid no heed to his illegitimate daughter, beget not of love nor lust, but of ownership.
Joséphine grew, working the fields as soon as she could walk while Marie and her brother Toussaint stood watch over Joséphine as much as they could, teaching her what little they knew of the songs and the words of protection of the old country.
When Joséphine was eight years old, her uncle dropped a cask of expensive port he was carrying, shattering it. Seeing this, marquis de Belleville flew into a rage and ordered the slave to be flogged, refusing to give the order to stop while strips of flesh were torn from Toussaint's bleeding back.
Crying, Marie threw herself at the marquis de Belleville's feet, begging for the life of his brother as well as the uncle of the marquis' daughter. But her words only fueled de Belleville's anger, for he did not appreciate the mention of his blood coursing through the veins of a slave's offspring.
When the marquis threatened to have Joséphine put to death, Marie grabbed her daughter and ran. The escape from the plantation was easy, for they were close to the swamp's edge, and none of the guards were very eager to follow them. The hostile surroundings of the plantation were an effective deterrent to escaping, for they were filled with hostile wildlife and travel on the treacherous ground was slow and exhausting.
After several hours, as night was beginning to fall, it finally looked as if mother and daughter were about to reach firmer land. Then, wading through shallow water, Marie suddenly screamed in pain. Joséphine turned to watch in horror as her mother fell face first into the water while her leg was pulled back by the teeth of an enormous alligator that were sunk into Marie's shin. The terrified girl tried in vain to hold onto her mother's hand as she was pulled deeper, her screams dying under the murky waters.
Suddenly alone and lost, Joséphine lay down under a large magnolia, hoping never to get up again. The predators in the night would surely have made sure that Joséphine had found her final resting place, had her mother's screams not attracted the attention of Bagnamanay, a medicine man far from his village out gathering healing herbs and poisonous frogs.
Bagnamanay took the catatonic girl back to his village and with the help of his witch doctor colleagues slowly nursed her back to the land of the living. Joséphine was taken into the tribe, learning their ways and speech. As she grew, it became apparent to Bagnamanay that the girl possessed the potential for great power of sorcery and the shamen taught her the ancient chants and herbal brews of the jungles and her growing abilities as a healer and a soothsayer benefited the tribe.
But the day of her mother's death never left Joséphine's mind, and often wandering in the woods, she lent her ear to the whispers of the dead and the unborn lingering under the waters of the bog and amidst the roots of the trees of the jungle. Her fear found a kindred in the fear of the spirits, her anger in their anger, her hate in their hate and her bitterness in their bitterness.
The secrets Joséphine learnt from the ghosts and the demons gave her powers she could not have imagined before. The village was her home and the tribe her family, and she began to guard them jealously. The young sorceress punished anyone she saw as threat to her family, be they strangers or not. With vile witchcraft Joséphine bent the minds and bodies of her enemies to her will. Soon the witch ruled the tribe unopposed, a queen against whose wishes none dared to speak.
With the might now in her hands, Joséphine took the warriors of the tribe and her dark minions and marched to Éden to exact revenge on the marquis de Belleville, only to discover that the plantation had already been abandoned a year before, after two hurricanes and an outbreak of cholera had made living in the malaria-ridden conditions unbearable, and more importantly, financially unsustainable.
Her lust for revenge unsated, the witch queen swore to find the marquis. She would take everything he possessed, not out of greed, but by birthright, and would visit torment and agony on the man fate had cruelly made her father. To herald her coming triumph over the source of her misfortune, Joséphine took on the name of the most frightful demon she had encountered and soon a mention of mambo asogwe de Belleville would cause the most callous cutthroats to hastily cross themselves and to look fearfully over their shoulders.
Now, through portents and spies, the sorceress de Belleville has learned that the marquis de Belleville is searching for the fabled treasure of Great Bonanza. Interestingly, it has come to the witch's attention that the pirate captain Red João is also on Great Bonanza's trail, and that the pirate has also found the means of locating the legendary prize. A perfect chance to beat the marquis to the goal and to set a trap..
A lovely mini from Reaper by Julie Guthrie. She's a great sculptor. Not necessarily the best in the world, but I have a special fondness for her style because the first minis I ever bought were her sculpts.
The mini came with a voodoo mask that would fit on her face, I used it as the standard for the zombis.
I think the paint job looks better in real life. I really should build a proper light box to get better pictures.
Not really related:
Despite the rocking title, seems like a terrible movie. I found a condensed 10 minute version on Youtube, and got too bored to watch it halfway through.
As for anyone willing to read on, get your boots on, because we're going to be knee-deep in pulp.
The name of the sorceress de Belleville is spoken in fearful whispers throughout the islands. But when she was born, she was named Joséphine. Her mother was Marie, a slave on the plantation Éden, surrounded on all sides by swamps and thick jungles and owned by Joséphine's father, the marquis de Belleville who paid no heed to his illegitimate daughter, beget not of love nor lust, but of ownership.
Joséphine grew, working the fields as soon as she could walk while Marie and her brother Toussaint stood watch over Joséphine as much as they could, teaching her what little they knew of the songs and the words of protection of the old country.
When Joséphine was eight years old, her uncle dropped a cask of expensive port he was carrying, shattering it. Seeing this, marquis de Belleville flew into a rage and ordered the slave to be flogged, refusing to give the order to stop while strips of flesh were torn from Toussaint's bleeding back.
Crying, Marie threw herself at the marquis de Belleville's feet, begging for the life of his brother as well as the uncle of the marquis' daughter. But her words only fueled de Belleville's anger, for he did not appreciate the mention of his blood coursing through the veins of a slave's offspring.
When the marquis threatened to have Joséphine put to death, Marie grabbed her daughter and ran. The escape from the plantation was easy, for they were close to the swamp's edge, and none of the guards were very eager to follow them. The hostile surroundings of the plantation were an effective deterrent to escaping, for they were filled with hostile wildlife and travel on the treacherous ground was slow and exhausting.
After several hours, as night was beginning to fall, it finally looked as if mother and daughter were about to reach firmer land. Then, wading through shallow water, Marie suddenly screamed in pain. Joséphine turned to watch in horror as her mother fell face first into the water while her leg was pulled back by the teeth of an enormous alligator that were sunk into Marie's shin. The terrified girl tried in vain to hold onto her mother's hand as she was pulled deeper, her screams dying under the murky waters.
Suddenly alone and lost, Joséphine lay down under a large magnolia, hoping never to get up again. The predators in the night would surely have made sure that Joséphine had found her final resting place, had her mother's screams not attracted the attention of Bagnamanay, a medicine man far from his village out gathering healing herbs and poisonous frogs.
Bagnamanay took the catatonic girl back to his village and with the help of his witch doctor colleagues slowly nursed her back to the land of the living. Joséphine was taken into the tribe, learning their ways and speech. As she grew, it became apparent to Bagnamanay that the girl possessed the potential for great power of sorcery and the shamen taught her the ancient chants and herbal brews of the jungles and her growing abilities as a healer and a soothsayer benefited the tribe.
But the day of her mother's death never left Joséphine's mind, and often wandering in the woods, she lent her ear to the whispers of the dead and the unborn lingering under the waters of the bog and amidst the roots of the trees of the jungle. Her fear found a kindred in the fear of the spirits, her anger in their anger, her hate in their hate and her bitterness in their bitterness.
The secrets Joséphine learnt from the ghosts and the demons gave her powers she could not have imagined before. The village was her home and the tribe her family, and she began to guard them jealously. The young sorceress punished anyone she saw as threat to her family, be they strangers or not. With vile witchcraft Joséphine bent the minds and bodies of her enemies to her will. Soon the witch ruled the tribe unopposed, a queen against whose wishes none dared to speak.
With the might now in her hands, Joséphine took the warriors of the tribe and her dark minions and marched to Éden to exact revenge on the marquis de Belleville, only to discover that the plantation had already been abandoned a year before, after two hurricanes and an outbreak of cholera had made living in the malaria-ridden conditions unbearable, and more importantly, financially unsustainable.
Her lust for revenge unsated, the witch queen swore to find the marquis. She would take everything he possessed, not out of greed, but by birthright, and would visit torment and agony on the man fate had cruelly made her father. To herald her coming triumph over the source of her misfortune, Joséphine took on the name of the most frightful demon she had encountered and soon a mention of mambo asogwe de Belleville would cause the most callous cutthroats to hastily cross themselves and to look fearfully over their shoulders.
Now, through portents and spies, the sorceress de Belleville has learned that the marquis de Belleville is searching for the fabled treasure of Great Bonanza. Interestingly, it has come to the witch's attention that the pirate captain Red João is also on Great Bonanza's trail, and that the pirate has also found the means of locating the legendary prize. A perfect chance to beat the marquis to the goal and to set a trap..
The loin cloth: As purple as my prose.
A lovely mini from Reaper by Julie Guthrie. She's a great sculptor. Not necessarily the best in the world, but I have a special fondness for her style because the first minis I ever bought were her sculpts.
The mini came with a voodoo mask that would fit on her face, I used it as the standard for the zombis.
I think the paint job looks better in real life. I really should build a proper light box to get better pictures.
Not really related:
Despite the rocking title, seems like a terrible movie. I found a condensed 10 minute version on Youtube, and got too bored to watch it halfway through.
maanantai 10. elokuuta 2015
A Half-elf
We're starting a mini-campaign of 2nd edition AD&D in the Forgotten Realms. Classic!
I rushed to make a mini for my (counts as) half-elf bard (at a more leisurely pace the campaign would be over before I got him done).
After creating the characters he played a quick 15 minute introduction scene, during which I described my character more or less along these lines:
I had this Reaper swordsman lying around I used.
Added some modelling putty for the cloak, the hat and the swords basket to replace the cut off handle. For the braid I simply braided some string and glued it on and the firearm and the hat's feathers came from the Warlord Games box of ECW pike and shot which has proved to be a very useful purchase for spare parts.
Getting the cloak to cure billowing in the wind was a bit of a challenge because without support, the putty bends down and I thought I didn't have anything at hand that I could shape that wouldn't stick to the putty. But then I thought to use a rolled up ball of cling film, which worked a treat.
Hastily painted everything in dark tones:
Then the usual midtone-highlight routine:
To speed thing up, instead of painting the base I just glued some model railroad sand and flock on it for a quick finish.
A must admit, I have close to zero knowledge of the geography, history or politics of the Realms, having mostly played other settings. It seems the adventures will be mostly set in and around Waterdeep which, as I understand, is a major metropolis in a world filled with advanced dungeons and advanced dragons. With this starting point I wrote the first draft of my character's backstory, still subject to the DM's approval, of course.
Our protagonist's father was lord Gwinau, a minor noble of an old family ruling an out of the way piece of land where his subjects mostly made their living from raising sheep, logging and some dealing in mined ores and metals.
As a young man, the future lord Gwinau was a keen hunter and on one of his hunting trips deep in the woods he came across a spirit of the forests, a female creature of unearthly beauty. Obsessed, the man searched the woods for weeks, occasionally glimpsing the object of his desire, finally getting close enough to address her.
With time the meetings under the trees turned in to a romance and finally the fairy asked young Gwinau to join her in the forest's court. His family duties and the fear of the unknown made the human hesitant to accept, which angered the capricious spirit, for it was no small offer for a mere mortal.
After this, young Gwinau could not find his love no matter how hard he tried, until one last time, one year later, just before daybreak, the forest spirit appeared at the family castle, leaving an infant boy in a basket she named Cumagor and a warning that the family Gwinau were no longer welcome on the lands.
From there on, leaf blight and foot and mouth disease ran rampant and wild beasts preyed upon the ore merchants passing through, packs of wolfs attacking the beasts of burden and troupes of rust monsters devouring their loads. Finally the Gwinau family were forced to pack up and leave their ancestral lands.
All this was too much for Cumagor's grandfather's health and it was Cumagor's father, now lord Gwinau, who settled the family and their retinue in the city of Waterdeep. His father soon married and other children followed, but Cumagor was raised as the lord's son learning court manners as well as horsemanship and swordplay.
Without much political influence, the family eventually made a good living through trade, having connections with previous immigrants from their homeland, now mostly working on the docks and in the warehouses. The Gwinau traded spices, furs and clothes, weapons, books and works of art, some of which were even genuine.
As Cumagor grew, he showed a gift for many talents, singing, feats of dexterity and charming people came to him as easily as breathing. Even as a young child Cumagor proved useful for the family business where much was achieved by keeping up appearances and entertaining other nobles and merchants.
The family priest adept at transcription and illustration of tomes had followed the Gwinaus and he also taught Cumagor. These skills were often in demand whenever the necessary documents and permits were delayed, inconveniently mislaid or otherwise unavailable just at the moment. There is a certain high ranking official who earned his spurs as a privateer, whose letter of marque was penned and signed by Cumagor at the age of twelve instead of the scribes and Lords of Waterdeep.
Cumagor's slightly inhuman features always led to odd glances and at times comments about his heritage and even a few fisticuffs. But that would change at least when Cumagor would be lord Gwinau.
Then one day, not long ago, lord Gwinau took his son aside made absolutely certain that which Cumagor had deep down feared, the title and command of the family fortunes would not go to the first-born, but to his half-brother, the lord's first legitimate and fully human son.
Soon after, the said brother made a joke about Cumagor, which earlier would have had them both laughing now resulted in Cumagor punching his brother, grabbing a considerable sum of money and some choice items and disappearing to the streets of Waterdeep.
Being used to a high standard of living, Cumagor had soon spent the riches on food, wine, fine clothes and gambling. He doesn't know how his father would receive him, should he return home. But as of yet Cumagor's pride will not allow that. To make ends meet Cumagor has been involved in all sorts of semi-legal business and has now joined a group of other misfits in the city, a band of demi-humans running errands for a mysterious patron.
I rushed to make a mini for my (counts as) half-elf bard (at a more leisurely pace the campaign would be over before I got him done).
After creating the characters he played a quick 15 minute introduction scene, during which I described my character more or less along these lines:
- A young, slender man of medium height with long, braided hair and golden eyes.
- Dressed in fine clothes, but they have a few tears and some dirt on them.
- A dark green cape, a wide brimmed hat with feathers.
- Wearing leather armour, carrying a fine sword with a gilded basket hilt and a musket.
I had this Reaper swordsman lying around I used.
Added some modelling putty for the cloak, the hat and the swords basket to replace the cut off handle. For the braid I simply braided some string and glued it on and the firearm and the hat's feathers came from the Warlord Games box of ECW pike and shot which has proved to be a very useful purchase for spare parts.
Getting the cloak to cure billowing in the wind was a bit of a challenge because without support, the putty bends down and I thought I didn't have anything at hand that I could shape that wouldn't stick to the putty. But then I thought to use a rolled up ball of cling film, which worked a treat.
Hastily painted everything in dark tones:
Then the usual midtone-highlight routine:
To speed thing up, instead of painting the base I just glued some model railroad sand and flock on it for a quick finish.
A must admit, I have close to zero knowledge of the geography, history or politics of the Realms, having mostly played other settings. It seems the adventures will be mostly set in and around Waterdeep which, as I understand, is a major metropolis in a world filled with advanced dungeons and advanced dragons. With this starting point I wrote the first draft of my character's backstory, still subject to the DM's approval, of course.
Our protagonist's father was lord Gwinau, a minor noble of an old family ruling an out of the way piece of land where his subjects mostly made their living from raising sheep, logging and some dealing in mined ores and metals.
As a young man, the future lord Gwinau was a keen hunter and on one of his hunting trips deep in the woods he came across a spirit of the forests, a female creature of unearthly beauty. Obsessed, the man searched the woods for weeks, occasionally glimpsing the object of his desire, finally getting close enough to address her.
With time the meetings under the trees turned in to a romance and finally the fairy asked young Gwinau to join her in the forest's court. His family duties and the fear of the unknown made the human hesitant to accept, which angered the capricious spirit, for it was no small offer for a mere mortal.
After this, young Gwinau could not find his love no matter how hard he tried, until one last time, one year later, just before daybreak, the forest spirit appeared at the family castle, leaving an infant boy in a basket she named Cumagor and a warning that the family Gwinau were no longer welcome on the lands.
From there on, leaf blight and foot and mouth disease ran rampant and wild beasts preyed upon the ore merchants passing through, packs of wolfs attacking the beasts of burden and troupes of rust monsters devouring their loads. Finally the Gwinau family were forced to pack up and leave their ancestral lands.
All this was too much for Cumagor's grandfather's health and it was Cumagor's father, now lord Gwinau, who settled the family and their retinue in the city of Waterdeep. His father soon married and other children followed, but Cumagor was raised as the lord's son learning court manners as well as horsemanship and swordplay.
Without much political influence, the family eventually made a good living through trade, having connections with previous immigrants from their homeland, now mostly working on the docks and in the warehouses. The Gwinau traded spices, furs and clothes, weapons, books and works of art, some of which were even genuine.
As Cumagor grew, he showed a gift for many talents, singing, feats of dexterity and charming people came to him as easily as breathing. Even as a young child Cumagor proved useful for the family business where much was achieved by keeping up appearances and entertaining other nobles and merchants.
The family priest adept at transcription and illustration of tomes had followed the Gwinaus and he also taught Cumagor. These skills were often in demand whenever the necessary documents and permits were delayed, inconveniently mislaid or otherwise unavailable just at the moment. There is a certain high ranking official who earned his spurs as a privateer, whose letter of marque was penned and signed by Cumagor at the age of twelve instead of the scribes and Lords of Waterdeep.
Cumagor's slightly inhuman features always led to odd glances and at times comments about his heritage and even a few fisticuffs. But that would change at least when Cumagor would be lord Gwinau.
Then one day, not long ago, lord Gwinau took his son aside made absolutely certain that which Cumagor had deep down feared, the title and command of the family fortunes would not go to the first-born, but to his half-brother, the lord's first legitimate and fully human son.
Soon after, the said brother made a joke about Cumagor, which earlier would have had them both laughing now resulted in Cumagor punching his brother, grabbing a considerable sum of money and some choice items and disappearing to the streets of Waterdeep.
Being used to a high standard of living, Cumagor had soon spent the riches on food, wine, fine clothes and gambling. He doesn't know how his father would receive him, should he return home. But as of yet Cumagor's pride will not allow that. To make ends meet Cumagor has been involved in all sorts of semi-legal business and has now joined a group of other misfits in the city, a band of demi-humans running errands for a mysterious patron.
sunnuntai 2. elokuuta 2015
Captain's Log
"That's not my log."
"Whoa! That log has teeth!"
"And that's a frog. I get a sense you people aren't even trying."
Because a horde of 20 zombies is very unwieldy on tabletop as separate pieces, I started to make some movement trays. It takes some time and effort to make a nice movement tray, and you always find some cool mini you want to add to the unit, or perhaps you just want a character to join a unit during a game, making the movement tray too small. So I made the tray a bit bigger and sculpted some filler pieces that can be replaced with characters etc. as need be.
A tray in progress.
My trays have a decorated edge, glued to a rubber coated metallic sheet so the magnetic bases stick nice and firm.
"Men! Pay no heed to this sorcery! Follow me, for booty calls!"
I made one tray edge out of plasticard, but at least with my tools it was quite a chore resulting in an annoying amount of statically charged plastic dust that was hard to clean up and will probably end up floating in the oceans (I hope they get this working).
Better results were achieved with gluing four layers of thin cardboard (from a box of porridge flakes) together with PVA glue and cutting it with a carpet knife.
The result:
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