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Oppressed Cities: Baran’Nhyir
Part 1: Hel’s Kitchen

After reading some of the Free Cities fluff I suddenly felt an uncontrollable urge to do something similar, but with a twist: instead of a city inhabited by the forces of Order, it would be one that fell to Chaos (or is in the process of doing so). I will document all conversions and short introductions to the places of interest here.

I have an idea of expanding to other races, maybe bloodthirsty Fyreslayers or red-skinned Orruks living in the mountain holds over the city but for now I will focus on the city itself, the ancient temple located under it and its daemonic denizens.



Here are my first three conversions: two Silent Butchers and a Bloodboiler of Khorne. Living in the labyrinthine tunnels beneath the city, the Bloodboilers torment the human inhabitants by whispering rancorous words through the walls and inducing feverish dreams filled with violence and hate.

The city is a cruel place to live in. Sometimes it happens that one just disappears without a trace, friends or family finding naught of their loved one but signs of a struggle and small hole in the floor or wall. Rarely do anyone dare to venture into the darkness below but if one should do so and if he could make it far enough, he would come cross one of the several entrances to the ancient temple. Guarded by foreboding statues and writing in a language long since forgotten, they lead to a giant network of stone bridges over bottomless chasms and rooms which resemble charnel houses more than places of worship. Pools of boiling blood and roasting pits are tended by cyclopean creatures, the air is filled with the screams of their hapless victims hanging from chains and locked into metal cages. Such is the place which those few who manage to escape and make it back to their peers call the Hel’s Kitchen.

The Bloodboilers were converted by cutting the horns off Bloodletters and filling the eyes with green stuff. Then a small ball of green stuff was glued to the forehead and sanded smooth.
The Butchers’ heads were shortened and horns carved into ears. Liquid green stuff was used to smooth them out. Cleavers were made of plasticard.
Extra tip: if you don’t fill the eyes, the Butchers’ head would make excellent ghouls/bestial vampires.
The scheme is still wip, waiting for my box of Shattered Realms bases.

Next time: The Cauldronmaster, some lame Gordon Ramsay jokes or maybe the unfortunate citizens who succumb to the Bloodboilers temptations.

Awesome idea shall definitely be checking up on this

Wow, this should be very interesting, and very cool first models.

Really neat conversions and story so far! I'd love to see more exploration of life under chaos, really.

Thanks a lot for all the comments, I really appreciate them! Got a lot of ideas about how "normal" people, Chaos worshippers, daemons and worse (are there any?) interact, but I'm going to try and keep the stories short until I have time to write something proper (also gotta brush up on my English).


Part 2 The City
Barah’Nhyir, or Capernaumus as it was known during the Age of Myth, was a well-known center of commerce and learning that drew merchants and scholars from around the Mortal Realms. Home of such Wonders of the Realms as the Hanging Gardens of Exium and the Academia of the Ten True Paths, it truly was a shining pearl upon the crown of Sigmar. *
This all changed when the Age of Chaos started. Sensing the evil which dwelled under the city, it’s original rulers fled, leaving it deserted for centuries. Then, either by chance or perhaps guided by the hand of the Lord of Skulls, the nomadic folks of the Xulian Steppes stumbled upon it while fleeing the forces of the Changer of Ways. Behind the colossal gates they thought to have finally found peace.

*please note that Sigmar’s crown most probably holds a near infinite amount of pearls.

Part 3 The Brass Yards
The Xulian nations are a group of tribes ruled over by the great philosopher-kings. Their guiding principle in life being total abstinence of physical confrontation. Needless to say, their life in the city is an endless struggle to prevent themselves from succumbing to the whispers below. Not all manage and those poor souls are dragged to the Brass Yards, a network of citadels on the southern edge of the city. There they can finally let their murderous tendencies loose, screaming out their never-ending rage and partaking in duels and brawls in the fighting pits.
But even this isn’t enough for some. Those wretches venture into the underground to feast in the halls of the daemons. Consuming even a tiny amount of tainted flesh results in violent seizures which send the victim trashing and clawing until he falls down comatose. Some never wake up, but those who do find themselves changed; horns poking out of their flesh and limbs replaced by bone blades, claws or worse. Having lost their last shreds of humanity, they are nothing more than walking weapons.





The conversion was really simple: Cut off the hand holding the axe and replace it with a shortened Tyranid bonesword. I also carved them up a bit with a hobby knife. Done!

Thats it for today. I was thinking about writing a short story about when the Xulian first enter the city (working title: "Should I stay or should I go" ) but it might take a while with all the stuff I have to do. There are more conversions on their way too!

Nice I'm enjoying the realistic treatment of populations moving around

All round great stuff

The conversions look very natural. I mean, unnaturally natural.

I'm enjoying the stories too.

Lots of ideas this week, but not enough time to follow through with everything. Still, here are the newest stories and additions to the daemonic forces!


Part 4 The Lottery

Every year a grand lottery is held at the central square. Only citizens are eligible and all outsiders are strictly kept away (most of them are reserved for a fate even worse). Those unfortunate enough to draw a black piece of vase have six months to live as they please before being called to the underworld. Most take the time to be with their families and making sure their legacy lives on – whether by passing their businesses over to the next generation or by giving all their possessions to some worthy cause. When the day comes, they walk through the gate with their head held high, knowing that their sacrifice enables those left behind to live in peac… ummm. Let’s rather just say they get to live. At least most of them. And at least for another year.
So far, none has been reported to successfully escaped the city after losing the lottery. Sometimes a wagon is found – packed and ready to go – outside a deserted house, with just a hole in the floor hinting at what most likely occurred. In such cases the whole household has been taken instead of just the one who drew the black piece of ceramic, a stark deterrent for those who might make plans for flight.

Part 5 The Soul Flayer

The Hel’s Kitchen is not the only place of interest in the vast labyrinth underneath the city. Should one venture too far, he would be greeted by what – at first glance – looks like a forest. But they are not ordinary trees, for they are made of metal and the leaves are the pale skins of the Soul Flayer’s tortured victims. Such is his skill with the blade that not only does he separate the skin from flesh and bone, but also the soul from its body, leaving only a shriveled husk filled with the bitterness of a shadow without a master. In his garden the Scorned Sisters shamble sobbing and wailing, their twisted bodies and hateful faces mirroring the emptiness within, their skins hanging above and forever out of their reach. Although looking weak and fragile, they turn into frenzied killers the moment they stumble upon someone still in possession of his or her own soul.



Scorned Sisters - wip (Picture will be updated when models are finished)

The conversion is more of a paint scheme than anything else. I failed at my philosophy of less is more by cutting their loincloths and adding some green stuff to their posteriors and chests in a vain attempt to make them more human, just to find out that they work as well just as they are. The loincloths for example could be painted as half-flayed skin hanging from their waists. The paint scheme is just “Inflamed Flesh” from the Citadel Paint app, painted all over the model with some Blood for the Blood God here and there. The miniatures in the picture have just had a coat of Cadian Fleshtone, followed by Reikland Fleshshade, Druchii Violet and Carronburg Crimson.

Very impressive work so far!