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I've had this one in the works for a while. She's a little more cheerful and Art Noveau than most of the rest of my Miskatonic staff, but that's okay! Misk.U. cultivates eccentrics of all types. She seems to be handling the job just fine. And those pointed ears indicate she's already survived a brush with chaos, or perhaps has a little bit of eldritch in her.
Her colleagues are a Stonehaven halfling librarian and a Black Cat librarian/cultist. Gave them both a minor touch-up for this shoot.
"Fond of bright colors, chiefly green and yellow," as Tolkien described his hobbits.
Stonehaven does some incredibly character-rich sculpts, and this is one such. This lady is full of vim, vigor, optimism, and a can-do attitude!
I imagine her as maybe the irrepressible kid sister of a grown adventurer, who has heard stories of adventure and wants to be a part of things. (Big sister played by Daschelle, 44009 )
Once, there was an artificer. A half-orc, a genius. He could make creatures of metal and wheels that seemed as alive as any man. His clockwork marvels were the talk of the province, and when an accident in his workshop took his arm off, he built a new arm of girders and cogs, stronger and more dexterous than before.
(More of this fellow if you click:)
His fame spread far and wide, and one day a wealthy man, a captain of industry, another half-orc, asked him to build a weapon. He had many enemies--competitors, bandits, robbers--and also many people he wished to treat as enemies--unionists, agitators, and the like.
"What kind of weapon," the artificer asked.
"The unanswerable kind" his patron replied. "Inexorable. Supreme."
The rich man had a vision, which the artificer was happy to share, and huge sacks of cash money, which the artificer was also happy to partake of, having very little of the same, and a strong if wildly degaussed moral compass, which the artificer did not have at all.
And so the artificer consulted with other specialists, gnomish engineering savants and goblin pyro-sages (who also partook of the fat sacks of cash) to design this Ultimate Countermeasure.
It took a year and a day (and, some say, more than one apprentice) but at length the work was done. A steam-belching, boiler-powered fire-breathing dreadnought, an apex predator in steel and brass.
The patron was pleased.
It is said that the Engine of Malice produced had the strength of a team of elephants, and a breath like a blast furnace. It is also said that its brazen talons broke the Bloodgutter Strike a generation ago, and that this is why your parents cut their sausage with knife and fork, because the Butchers' Guild doesn't waste anything and you really don't want to break your teeth on a brass button.
It is also said that the Emperor conscripted the Engine to fight the foreign enemy during the Cruel Wars, as it was impervious to the miasmas and poison gases, and could roast whole squadrons in their trenches.
It is, notably, NOT said what happened the day it slipped a gear and went berserk. There were very few surviving eyewitnesses and none of them want to talk about it. Questions on this topic remain unanswerable. The Weapon remains at large.
(I love the huge wings on this sculpt, but I'll never be able to compete with some of the canvasses other, better, painters have made of them. Also they are very rigid, so I removed them for future projects and took some pinewood derby exhaust pipes I found on clearance, some aluminium fencing wire, and a few eyelets. Gluing them on wasn't the easiest, and I used plenty of baking soda. This wound up looking like horrible overdone welds, but that's all right in context.)
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