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The Old Ways linger in rural parts. The harvest is, after all, too important to leave up to chance. The land will bring forth in plenty, but the fields must have blood. This is the ancient compact. The ground must be propitiated. Satiated. It is well known. The community is bound tighter together by the ritual, even if they don't care to talk about it. More angles of the vessel for HE WHO WALKS BEHIND THE ROWS: ] *** A great sculpt from Crooked Dice. Brigit the May Queen with the sickle and Mister Mangel the scarecrow are also from there. Reaper's Headless Footman (04031) is acting as the Master of Ceremonies. While we think of this type of agricultural folk horror as being from the Old World, as in Christopher Lee's "The Wicker Man" and Ramsey Campbell's "Ancient Images," it fits in pretty well with the American Cornlands, too. This intersection of trackless fields, nourishment, and old-time religion is one of Stephen King's obsessions (see Children of the Corn, In The Tall Grass, Secret Window, et al.). I could easily transplant this big guy to the borders of the Weird West and have it fit in just fine.

Before television and the radio, and in an era of poorly-distributed literacy when the theatre was sometimes illegal (and always disreputable) you had to make your own fun. Unless you were very very wealthy; then you could pay other people to make your fun for you! A reading party might be one such thing, getting a new author to read their latest work of verse. It's causing quite a stir--some critics say it contains veiled criticisms of the King, while others say that no, it contains a satire on the Church, as cunningly hidden as it is blasphemous. The dissolute Lord Barstead is always willing to fund such outrageous artists. But what good is a shocking subversion of society's values without some Society to be scandalized? The gouty Squire and the parson are, naturally, invited. And that means vast quantities of rum punch and sherry. Also a nurse for the Squire's latest brat, as his lady wife is taking a rest cure. And of course, an extra special guest, a scintillating conversationalist, duelist, and ex-privateer laden down with the wealth of the Carolinas. Here's Lord Flashheart! (Pirate Lord, 03635a.) (There is, of course, a bitter rivalry between the Lords, and certainly both of them will be intriguing against the other.) Oh, and of course the domestic staff is on hand. Who let that pig in, anyway? In addition to several kegs of the controversial "tobacco" (the fame of which is sweeping the nation), Lord Flashheart has also brought a scientific curiosity, an exotic bird from Foreign Lands taken from a Dutch merchant vessel. He loudly and drunkenly proclaims it to be the ugliest [blasphemous oath] chicken he's ever seen. All in all, an occasion that will be gossiped about for months to come. The corpulent Squire, the Nurse, the Hog Maid, and the Man of Letters, as well as the tables and chairs and china, are from Eureka's Captive Audience. It's value for money. We've seen the Parson and the Socialites, along with Lord Barstead, before. They are from NorthStar 1672. Keen eyes will notice a certain Entrance, 77640, features prominently in the Barstead estate.

"Hickory, dickory, dare, The pig flew up in the air. The man in brown Soon brought him down; Hickory, dickory, dare." ---Old nursery rhyme I mostly have enough Weird West stuff to resist the temptations of Dracula's America, but I'll be expletive deleted if the Salem Sisters and Guardian weren't exactly what I needed for this early modern project. The Guardian's trousers are a bit anachronistic, but that buckled hat and kerchief more than makes up for it. Our Sisters--Maiden, Mother, and Crone--are tremendously full of character, and those bonnets and collars sell it. Again, I tried for colors that are not quite black and grey, but still look dour and joyless. The Man in Brown, the parson, is from NorthStar's 1672 line, part of their Civilian pack; a perfect fit for this setting. (He comes with a foppish aristocrat and two ladies in fine silks--the sort of thing that would be Frivolity and Idleness in this region. We'll see them later.) I didn't intend to make the parson so sinister-looking or surly, but it's a happy accident. There are definitely multiple ways of parsing this scenario. Perhaps he's the warlock, trying to get some hard-working women accused of witchcraft so he can buy their land. Perhaps not! Perhaps it's poltergeist activity from the worryingly intense child. Who can say? Extra pics:

More agricultural laborers, these ones more suited to the early modern and modern era. Here is a Midlam Halfling Farmer in a cider orchard, accompanied by a faithful pig (from 77567, Pig and Cart). "Aye, that do be true what they say, one bad apple WILL spoil the whole barrel, right enough. You soon get an eye for the bad ones, and a nose too. But that's what the pig's for." "Spoil the whole barrel. aye, but a bad apple do nowt to a pig save make 'em better eating. Apple's a good food for pork, and the apple wood's good for the bacon in the smokehouse." "Apples within and apple without, as you might say, and then a glass of cider to wash the pork down. That's a good meal of a cold night." Another Midlam farmer, this one human. (This fellow is 28mm scale or so, not heroic scale). Those farming togs could fit in anywhere across three centuries or so. "Been working this land, man and boy, like my father and his father and his father before 'im, as long back as folks these parts can remember. And there's one thing I can tell you..." "...One thing, aye, that'll keep the crops bearing and the well full, and that's keeping on good terms with the Gentry. Nay, not Lord Bastard as lives up in the manor, I mean the Gentry. Them as live under the hill." "Oh, a sharp sickle and manure on the fields, and driving the furrows right, can't do without those, but that's just work as needs doing. No, there's no amount of work will make good if the Old Ways aren't held up. That's why I've called on Brigit here. She'll walk the rows, sing to the soil and the water and the seeds. That's how the Gentry like it." "And then, o' course, stand up Mister Mangel to oversee the work and keep away the crow. New clothes now and then, and new stuffing or a pole now and then, but old Mangel has been here as long as we have. I fancy the Gentry have come to see him as part o'the family, like. They wouldn't be pleased if he weren't out in the field. Not pleased at all." "Aye, Mangel will see to it no harm come to the rows nor the field nor the fences. Always looking out, he." More angles: Bridgit here is one of the May Queens from Crooked Dice. I tried to give her a sheer shift but could probably push it a little more. Tips and advice welcome. Mister Mangel is also from Crooked Dice, and there's a wonderfully sinister aspect to him. Now, I'm a fan of scarecrows, but this here, without bone claws or a face, just has such latent menace. You know that while that sickle is rusted, the edge is still shiny-sharp. And I tell a lie there; you can make out a face pushing out of those rags and tatters, or in the gauze of that veil. And you can imagine the squeak of old twine-bound timber and the soft thudding hopping sounds tap-tapping behind you on a windy night, tap, tap, tap, the sound of rags flapping, the breeze whistling off that sickle's edge, closer and closer, now almost upon you, TAP-TAP-TAP as wheeling crows in impossible numbers fill the air with dark wings and blot out the moonlight, cawing and flapping so no one will hear your screaming if you dare harm the wheat in the fields before harvest time. Which you wouldn't do, of course. But not because you believe such things.

While going on my Midlam cultist and puritan bender, I knew I would regret not getting these holy sisters from differently-sized misters. They fit perfectly into the setting. I also figured it was the perfect time to drybrush up a cheap craft-store Halloween decoration (double discounted as it was broken inside the package. Statuary with extra cracks? that's a feature, not a bug!) So the abbey has a statue of "the chiefest and greatest of terrorf, which is KING DEATH" gracing its cemetery. Here's the Abbess herself, Mother Superior. I'm afraid she has a rather severe strabismus, and I'll pretend that was on purpose. And here is Sister Pancake, a name taken in humility (she is a bit of a short stack). Played around with lighting focus on this one. I'm happy with the Mignola-inspired framing on this one. Here's another shot of the good Sister with a few other halfling townsfolk: And a monastic bonus picture with Brother Hammond, Friar Stone, and Fra Ximenez (from Black Cat).

Robes? Check. Horned skull mask? Check. Air of furtive evil? Check! Dulkathar here is a perfect fit for the cult of the Piper in the Woods, last seen HERE. The word "skulking" was made for this character, He'd be a great Wizard Whately stand-in for Call of Cthulhu, too. Even more tattered than his co-conspirator and co-religionist. Together, what mightn't they call up? or Whom? And with such an ally, what vengeance might they not visit upon the settlements nearby? Are there any punishments those Puritans don't deserve, and that full well? Guest appearance by a nearly-finished Tree of Despair, of which more later.

"VVhen I grew in the VV O O D / I vvas vvater'd with B L O O D." Such would be the witness of this ancient tree, could it speak. It has been the site of rural justice and rural "justice" for generations. Tales of such are told to the youth by grey-haired elders, tales they learned as children from their own aged grandsires and grandmothers. A tree like that...well, after a while it develops a taste for it. Don't burn the fallen branches, don't take an axe to it, and have a care how you use the lumber when it finally falls. As happens from time to time in small communities of "good, law-abiding people," an angry mob has formed. These citizens are Concerned about their community. Many of the worst atrocities in history have gotten started when someone brings Concerned Citizens together. The mob makes way for the accused. Duly constituted authority is present, to ensure this is "properly done." // "Order! Order! Hear ye, that VVarden Knochengard and I, Sheriff of thif countee, are affembled in the prefence of divers VVitneffes, to try Goodman Ezra Jacobs againft allegations brought againft him, the same beeing VVITCHCRAFT, CIVIL DISORDER, and POISONING of LIVESTOCK, and to pronounce sentenfe thereupon, to be carried out forthwith." "Let hif accusers speak and make their case againft him!" (here follow reports from Farmers Wentworth and Hogbein of livestock falling sick, crops failing, etc., the same saying they saw Ezra walking to and fro with a book some days before, shaking his head back and forth while muttering and laughing; Deacon Abraham dilates on the fact that the accused pleads no contest to finding a book hidden in a secret place, the same book being one of DARK MAGICKS and BLASPHEMOUS RITES) "Hath the Accufed, Ezra, anything to say on his own behalf, or be there any member of the Communitee willing to fpeak in his defense?" (here Goodman Carter, his sometime employer, appears as a character witness to the effect that Ezra is a kindly soul and a good farmhand, also that it has been a wet year and Farmer Wentworth built his privy uphill from his well; Brother Hammond notes that the accused is almost a simpleton and never learned his letters nor the use of them for reading and writing; Mother Hildegard attests that the book found in Ezra's possession is illustrated with disturbing woodcuts that could upset an unstable soul.) "Having weighed the Evidence thus provided, it is the Judgment of this Affembly that the Accused, Goodman JACOBS, is GUILTY of dabbling in DIVELLISH ARTS, yet the Severitee of the offense be Lessened by his Lack of Wit, and we find no evidence of Malice directed againft his Neighbor; nonetheleff, harm being done, he muft suffer punishment, and learn better thereby. He shall HANG FROM THE TREE for a period of two days, to be cut down thereafter; let no man provide Succour or Comfort in the meantime, neither let any man harm him further for the Duration." The record does not state what exactly became of the book the unfortunate Goodman Jacobs happened upon, or whose possession it was remanded to. It does, however, record a very similar trial less than a year later. The tree does not like to be kept waiting. (Guest appearances from the Dwarf Butcher 77460, Calbach Greatclub 03231, Village Rioter 77140, a Peasant 77655, the Gravedigger, Abram Duskwalker, Brother Hammond, Sheriff Drumfasser, and Jakob Knochengard, among others.)

The City Watch. Charged with lantern and truncheon to keep the peace and vigilantly guard against threats thereunto. Again, I'm a sucker for the buckled slouch hats and the shoulder-draping collar. Midlam's Halflings again, featuring Kate Redhanded: more angles: ...and Clubbo Drubbins. Can't say I did such a good job on his lighting as on Kate's, but can for sure say I've done worse. Bringing light into dark places: "Halt! Who goes there!" And a whole crowd of citizens ready to deal with thieves, spies, monsters, witches, or rat-men. (Guest appearances by Abram Duskwalker and Mira, Damaris Duskwarden, Sheriff Drumfasser, and the Gravedigger.)

I love a sculpt in the the Early Modern era English Civil War/New-England Canaan/Solomon Kane style every bit as much as I would hate living in Puritan Salem (which is to say, a lot). This buckle-hatted rat catcher from Midlam is just perfect for the Early Modern Monster Hunters series I have going on. Clad in rust, mahogany, and maroon, "sadd colors" as was the fashion. (The Puritans mostly didn't wear black, not because it was somber, but because it was too fancy. Of course.) With net, traps, staff, and rat mallet, he is ready for any ordinary rat the city can dish up. But of course, we don't deal with ordinary rats here, do we? A consultation with a well-traveled colleague returned from the New World is in order. We've seen Boren Backslap here before. "Aye, on two legs, and wearin' clothes? 'Tweren't a dream, lad. You've much to learn and not much time to do it. Best we set an ambuscade this very night. Where there's one, there'll be more, sure as Judgment." (The orb-wielding albino is a Ver'Men mage from Black Tree).

Let's meet Will Chandler, Midlam's halfling candlestick-maker. (Strictly I think a candlestick maker is a silversmith or pewtersmith rather than a chandler, but I don't work for Midlam and this sculpt is too good and evocative to complain!) So much character on display. This one is an exercise in OSL, having no fewer than four light sources, and I can't pretend to have done it much justice with painting; those candle stubs are tiny. Am happy with the lighting on one or two pictures though! An uncanny encounter after dark: With a few other citizens

More WHFRP-suitable characters I forgot to post in October! Sheriff Drumfasser, 44018, is a fine officious Authority Figure. With his fancy hat and proclamation, he could also do duty as a magic-user of some kind. Gave him a green color scheme; it's not ideal but I wanted to color-code my monster hunters. More shots: And Brother Hammond, the mendicant friar. Warm browns and yellowish tans. More turnaround: And of course, ACTION SHOTS! Who doesn't love reading incantations from crumbling vellum that end in "...by these names I conjure and adjure thee!"? Especially in an unhallowed place shunned by the decent folk of the town, under the moon's maddening light? (Pro tip: Have another scroll ready for abjuring those you have called up; big time-saver there.) Guest appearances by a Spirit, 77098, in green, and the Ghoulie Bag female Spectre, in purple. And here's Brother Hammond engaging in theological dialogue with a conflicted monster. You can imagine the soteriological, teleological, and pneumatological difficulties that inhere with a being stitched together from half-a-dozen corpses and brought to grotesque life in a parody of both creation and resurrection--and that's not even considering the crisis of identity. If any monster needs pastoral counseling (or, indeed, would be willing to listen and able to keep up), it's Frankenstein's.

"The EVIDENCE before the court is Incontrovertible; there's no need for the jury to retire! In all my years of serving I scarcely ever saw A pris'ner more DESERVING the FULL PENALTY OF LAW!!" What a marvelous Van Horne sculpt. The fleshy, overexaggerated features, the enormous, "Ghostbusters"-style jaws and flapping spectral jowls, the expression of imbecilic malice, the billowing cloud of ectoplasmic vapor. (It's a BIG chunk of metal for your money, too.) This was clearly a pompous, entitled, corrupt, bullyragging, ranting, overbearing soul in life--and death has not made it any better. Albert Finney probably plays his voice. Since this is intended for an Early Modern Era game set somewhere probably in the later Stuart period, and since the bloody Black Assizes and the unrighteous conduct of Judge Jeffries and his like are a recurring theme in the ghost stories of Sheridan LeFanu and M. R. James, a vindictive Hanging Judge or bloodthirsty magistrate seemed appropriate. Slapped together a juridical wig and 17th-century collar from Green Stuff and made a wire noose. He's here to pronounce Sentence upon you, and does not care in the slightest if it's commensurate with your misdeeds. You must be guilty of SOMETHING, or you wouldn't be here! "You will be taken from hence to the place of execution, and there hanged by the neck until dead, and may God have NO MERCY on your soul!"