Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

Greetings! This log will contain all non-evil dwarf related commercial sculpts of mine. There will be some copy-paste before jumping to the latest project. For more pictures on previous projects see this thread:

Dungeon clutter sculpted for Zealot Miniatures, plus reference board:





Some excess bits of which will go to casting for my own range:






Elf Heavy Archer of Ancient Times:






Alien Heads of Distant Times:








Pop quiz!

What will these wire skeletons be?

As you can see over here, the new Rotten Circus brings with it something of possible interest to evil Dwarf collectors. Available through Kickstarter, and later also through Rotten Factory's webstore. Sculpted by me on the fly, as it were:



Reference:

This dungeon clutter is out now:








__________________________


Dust whirled in the stale air as footsteps rang down the winding cave tunnels. Tap. Tap. Tap. They were careful steps, yet fired with a haste born out of panic and despair. Pale mice and blind lizards scuttled away under rocks and hid in crags as the heavy darkness that had been their entire world flared up with a ruddy light. Torches crackled and sizzled, several of them bobbing their way forward in a row. The moving torchlight gasped and cast pivoting shadows from stalactites and stalagmites alike, painting the dripping cavern walls with shifting shadows like a mouth full of fangs... or prison bars.

They could not get out. Treading the way back home had revealed an exit collapsed by a massive rockfall, or perhaps felled by sabotage. They could not tell which ill stalked them; misfortune or malevolence. The former was enough to doom them. The latter haunted their every waking moment and rendered their dreams into nightmares. But if someone truly was stalking them and setting them up, they had not caught a glimpse of the would-be murderer.

Murder...

As if slaying that Cockatrice had been a misdeed! As if snapping the necks of its young brood had been a mistake! As if ending the suffering of its sick yet roosting mate had been a crime! As if taking their precious eggs had been a sin!

Murder...

No more would those sharp avian eyes turn men and beasts to stone. No more! They had done the right thing, and entered the jaws of hell undauntingly. They had packed up and wandered the subterranean maze for what must have been days, and they had dared death a dozen times over only to get to the monster. And then they had entered the lair, like true heroes, and their leader's silvern shield had shone brilliantly in the orange torchlight as he swung his sword and hacked the foul devil down! Such glory they had reaped! Such glory...

Murder....

The brave adventurers had packed up well with torches and rags soaked in olive oil, and for this sake their flaming light would outlast their water. And their food. And their sanity. The jaws of hell had closed around them.

Already their supplies had been wolfed down, and already they had cracked open the beheaded trophy's skull to devour its brain and facial muscles. And worst of all, they could not even retrace their steps back to the Cockatrice lair where decaying corpses still lay strewn on the rocky floor. They could not find it again, no matter how hard they tried. They could have sworn the caverns had changed course. And they would soon fight each other for mortal flesh unless some sustenance could be found, for intact Cockatrice eggs could buy you a fief.

They could see it in each others' eyes. They could see it clearly. Their greed would outlast their honour and comradeship. Tense silence reigned in their once so jovial company, and they watched each other from out of the corners of their eyes, as if searching for the gleam of the dagger about to strike from behind.

Suddenly, the lead adventurer shouted out for the first time in hours, or maybe days. She had found vessels! Pots and sacks, baskets and flasks. A stash of supplies! Someone's hidden store. Just like that, they were all saved from hunger. Laughter bubbled up out of parched throats, and their hands clapped each other's backs. That dreaded starvation would not get them, oh no! With so many pounds of grain and wine they would refresh their steps and find a way out, even if it took weeks more. Such branching caverns surely could not have only one exit.

"At it, lads! Raid the pantry!" the forward scout cheered, and they rushed to her side, opening lids and pulling out corks. A few signs of mice, and smaller critters still, were evident, but no major plague of vermin. The foodstuff smelled fresh enough. Some estate-owner or farming clan would lose their winter reserves, but luck was tough and so were they. They would not let this chance pass!

And so the intrepid adventurers guzzled down unwatered wine and chewed wheat biscuits and raw grain to sate their worst hunger pangs, looking at each other with joy and refound hope in their eyes. The gods willed it! They would not starve!

Nay, they would not starve. Some filled sacks and bags with foodstuff, and refilled empty bottles in their backpacks. One started crushing grain with pestle and mortar to mix with wine and herbs. Others continued the simple feast, until their grasping hands reached the false wooden bottoms that lay rather deep beneath the top layer of grain in the baskets and sacks. Bewildered, they dug up the wooden lids, and found salted meat beneath. No, not meat. Flesh. There were still fingers and ears left in the salty red mass. Someone's dead eye stared back at them.

Gasps and and the sound of vomiting echoed in the low cavern. It was then that they discovered the corpse. A dessicated cadaver from some run-away Goblin slave. Strange to find him dead here, so close to the food store... Stray grain was still visible around the corpse. And why would some farmer dare to store his supplies in a Cockatrice cave? They stared at the dried-out husk of the Goblin corpse.

First then did the pain and convulsions begin. Their visions swam, and they toppled on weak knees, growling about poison. Groaning and cries whimpered away as throats swelled and lungs heaved for less and less air. Fingers clawed desperately on wet rock, and bodies flung themselves frantically about on the hard cavern floor, flailing in animal terror and agony.

And first then did they receive an answer to the question that had been gnawing at the back of their minds for so long:

Yes. It was not misfortune, but malice.

For someone was out to get them.

A friend of mine, who is known as Deviatecod online, have a neighbour and friend who is into Warhammer 40'000. Recently, this 40k collector and another mate of his got the idea to have his Ork Stompa turned into a Freebooter Pirate Stompa. Consequently, Deviatecod cooked up a lot of detail ideas for this concept and got in contact with me. The ideas were really fun, so I accepted the commission even if the fee stretched out on work hours was something like €1 per hour. Most of the Stompa head ideas are his, although I came up with the pipe, the ear ring, the headcloth and the feather (a stylized Imperial Aquila statue wing broken off for looted duty). The eyepatch of ammunition bands and a Terminator sole was a joint idea. This was fun, though the detail level is lacking (e.g. no rivets in sight) since it was a rushjob. The beard will have to be bowed into place by the client.

Yarr!





Here is a scale shot with an ordinary Count Orkula:

Kamorko & Grufol

I'm happy to share this creation from early January with you, made for Veil of the Ages. He's called Kamorko, with his reloader sidekick Grufol the Goblin:









And painted by a professional:


Kamorko and his Goblin reloader Grufol
"Kamorko, you are crazy! That palace is full of elven guards!"
Sculpt: Admiralty Miniatures Paint: Andrea Febo, Terrain: Mauro Cangemi



Check out Veil of the Ages: The Breach! A great entry point for new hobbyists and wargamers. Please consider supporting the Kickstarter. We all want to have new opponents in the future, right?

This little fellow is up now on Admiralty Miniatures:



Halfling Adventurer of Ancient Times.

Bubby "Gutso" Lardbairn had always been a good shot. And a hearty eater, by all accounts. And so his belly hadn't sunk thin when he got wandering feet and started trekking all across the wide, weird lands out there beyond his lush little home.

No, instead his rotund body had swelled further still, for Bubby had mastered the art of foraging and cooking while roughing it in the wilds. It had started modestly, with some eggs stolen from nests here, and some small animals poached there. At first it had taken effort and concentration, but after a while Bubby "Gutso" found that he had a true knack for this kind of thing. And so his stubby limbs went through the motions without thinking about it: Spotting and sneaking and stalking. Climbing and reaching and grabbing. Flinging and flaying and flensing. Bundling and binding and bagging.

And above all, eating all the time.

There were meals, of course. Many meals in a short day. A decent fellow couldn't miss out on a meal now, could he? And then there were those belly rumblings in between meals, so there had to be snacks as well. Rumour had it that the ravenous Halfling had pushed more than one company of fellow travellers to starvation as their provisions vanished down his gullet. Indeed, nasty rumours even claimed that some of jolly Bubby's companions had disappeared down his little cooking pot...

Yet he couldn't care less about the waggling tongues of others. Not when his own was about to taste a ripe peach! And apparently also a fowl soon enough, for his eyes detected the bird and his slinging arm went into a spin all of its own while he licked the stolen fruit. For Bubby "Gutso" Lardbairn had mastered the art of eating and hunting at the same time, and he couldn't enjoy life more than he already did on this sunny day!

Vermin Guard Centurion

Vermin Guard Centurion of fallen Avras, leading his soldiers onward against the barbaric foe. Note the ridged kite shield with plumbata darts and AVRAS​ sign on its inside. Note also the Mediaeval Roman lamellar armour, paramerion scimitar, pugio dagger, the spear's sauroter spike counterweight as well as the ruined Roman brickwork.

Sculpted at the very end of 2019 AD as a practice model for posing, shield and spear sculpting. I am currently looking for a casting/miniature company willing to adopt this random character sculpt into their permanent range. My go-to caster for single miniature moulds currently do not make new moulds.

You can find tutorials for how to sculpt lamellar armour, skull, string bow knot, pteruges and much more ​here.

Happy new year!

Vermin Vicarius

A dodgy slimeball of a civil official, all sleeze and falsehoods. Note the late antique Roman pillbox hat and Byzantine lorum, as well as the Gladius gripped treacherously behind his back, the small rat nasting on his right elbow, and the bribe-pouch hanging from his tail.

To be released in the future.

I saw this on reddit! Absolutely fantastic , love the face and that hat. Such a great sculpt