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All Martians have psionic powers to some extent, for telepathic communication at the very least. A few possess talents far beyond the Martian norm. Undisciplined use of these powers could cause disruptions to the usually orderly Martian society, but a species learns a thing or two over the course of a million years. A rigorous program of focus, meditation, and training out in the Crystal Wastes will hone those wild talents to a suite of keen, well-directed tools.
This fellow, from CP Miniatures (Sci-fi, Non-Commissioned, Alien Sensei) is one such psionic anchorite, learning proper and responsible use of telekinesis, remote viewing, illusion, and mental manipulation.
Please do not call them a "space wizard" even though it seems quite accurate by Earth standards; the Martian academicians insist it is very different altogether from space wizardry and very disrespectful to confuse the two.
The nuances of the distinction are lost on Earthlings, but then so very few of us have psionic talent in the first place.
Here's the Anchorite with a few other Martians, including 50197, whose paintjob got a touch-up.
Keep watching the skies, cadets!
The Frost Salamander from Nolzur's has a wonderful chunky head and heavy-jawed face, and that won me over. It also has six legs, so not your average Earthly amphibian. Good thing there's always room for planetary monsters! And it's a great canvas for patterns; salamanders are often brightly spotted or striped. Let's make him a denizen of the steaming swamps of Retro-Venus!
Bombshell makes some amazing sci-fi ladies and this is one such! I took some liberties with my interpretation as a Venerian Amazon--the sculpt indicates that Wanda here is wearing leggings or tight pants rather than the singlet I painted, but her headgear, belt, and boots fit very nicely with Hydra's Valkeeri sculpts.
Let's put the two together!
Why does a huge predator need vivid warning coloration? Well, on Retro-Venus, there's always another, bigger predator.
I *do* love putting bright colors on weird beasties. Hope you enjoy!
The Andromedan Dominion controls many cubic parsecs of the local Outer Spiral Arm, decadent hegemons given to backstabbing intrigues, convoluted politics and railgun diplomacy. Controlling the fractious populations of several suns means there's always a need for footsoldiers!
40927 here is a junior cadet, ready for her first off-world assignment. Yes, she's effectively a child soldier; that's the sort of thing you get from decadent hegemonies! It's a good way of cleaning up lines of succession, if nothing else. Notice the ceremonial hairpiece and digitigrade stance of the ruling caste.
The plasma jezzail is as much a cultural signifier as a weapon (and it is for sure an effective weapon).
It's time to hunt some political dissidents! Success will be rewarded with plumes of glory and silken garments of rank. Failure will be discreetly covered up by the clan matriarch.
More pics: B
This (Bombshell's Jamad) is the sort of rank our Huntress could aspire to:
a statuesque Battle-Chief (or Cultural Magistrate, depending on how you translate the subtilities of the language). Robed with ceremonial silks and armed with jezzail, pistol, and glaive, she has broad authority over a planetary sector and considerable influence within her clan.
The menfolk also have some value in Andromedan culture; an armored Dragoon (Bombshell Exile) wields heavy weaponry developed by a vassal species. Illyrian work, by the looks of it.
The heavy armor indicates he has seen several successful skirmishes, and is a valuable fighter to protect. worth the investment.
He is also authorized to grow whiskers--a sign of clan rank!
If they all play their cards right, they might even get an audience with Her Sovereignty Messalina XVI Herself!
Retrofuture Mars is a cold world, a dry, harsh world--but not quite a dead world, yet. Survival is tough, and most of the remaining fauna is gaunt and quick.
The Martian Ravener has an ecological niche approaching that of our Earth coyote or tiger. Here, one stalks a pelgrane.
It must be stealthy, for the pelgrane is easily startled and can fly.
A pounce, and a clean kill! The ravener will first drain the corpse of precious liquids before consuming it, bones and all.
This meal will last it for Earth-months to come.
The Ravener is not a tool-user, but it is cunning, and has been known to mimic the calls of other species, and even Martian words, to lure prey closer.
Humans were surprised to find that such a predator in a resource-scarce world would need--and could afford--horns!
The Martians could have told them, but the Weinbaum expedition found out on their own.
Weinbaum's Cloaker! (the Martian name cannot be properly pronounced without the telepathic emphasis).
A flying apex predator that haunts sandstorms and windswept canyons.
Ingenious countershading means it appears like the dark, starry sky from below, and a cratered field from above.
Martian children, sporelings, and buds are taught from early age to watch for sourceless shadows.
Humans and their Space Ape pals are learning the same lesson!
The Ravener is a Hound of Tindalos, 50289 with the head removed and swapped out for a GW demon skull and Ork mandible from their Skullz box, glued onto a neck made out of sprue. That body is lean and athirst all right, perfect for Mars!