Jump to content

No West for the Wicked, Part 2: Red Hand Coven, The Revenant, Holy Inquisitors, feat. 77633


Rigel
 Share

Recommended Posts

  • Replies 5
  • Created
  • Last Reply

Top Posters In This Topic

Top Posters In This Topic

Thanks, all!

On 6/3/2021 at 3:22 AM, Glitterwolf said:

Schermafbeelding 2021-06-03 102149.jpg

I don't know how you keep finding the absolute most perfect images for these! This is exactly what I was going for (even drilled a little hole in the Revenant's hat)!

On 6/1/2021 at 10:10 PM, Iridil said:

What a great scene! I love the Revenant's attitude

Thank you! They're my favorite--too troublesome to live and too ornery to lay down and die. In my Weird West game this fella would be a reskinned Death Knight. Beware the High Plains Drifter!

On 6/2/2021 at 9:29 AM, Samedi said:

Thanks for a good laugh, I didn't expect the Spanish inquisition!

I am given to understand nobody does! 😉

On 6/2/2021 at 9:29 AM, Samedi said:

Absolutely love that guy with the sunglasses!

Yeah, he and his cronies are great sculpts. If you need a Van Helsing type in the New World...

  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Restore formatting

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

 Share

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.
  • Similar Content

    • By Rigel
      A while ago I was on a Beast-People kick, and promised more beast-fellas! But I don't remember delivering until now. 

      Behold, the mighty Sabertooth Tiger man, 02785. He is enormous! (The lynx is a Bombshell Companion)

       

       
      Here's a comparison with S'kara, last seen here. You can see the tusky boy is huge!
       

       

       
      A more gracile feline is this Rogue from Nolzur's. She's accompanied by two rat-bastards, Ver-Men from Blacktree. One of them is clearly a magic-user, the other some sort of violence specialist. The ratties had minor appearances in Boren Backslap's tale, but not a good front-and-center showoff if I recall. 

       

       

       
      I really need to run a Feywild game to get some of these on the table. 
       
    • By Rigel
      The ritual has done its work. From a distance, an eerie light shines through the trees.
      The ground quakes under the tread of colossal hooves.
      There is a rushing wind, the sound of snapping branches.
      An indescribable tune, notes in a strange scale and meter, music from beyond the stars, builds to a skirling crescendo.
       

       
      HE is come. The PIPER IN THE WOODS is here. 

      Burning with potassium flame, attended by HIS servants. 

       

       

       
      Behold! The Horned Lord approaches! 

       
      Deception and concealment among HIS sacraments! The Masked Messenger, the False-Faced! 
       

       

       
      IA! IA! 
       

       

       

       
      The power of a God, called to earth! HIS votaries rejoice, even as they cower!

       

       

       
      WHAT. HAVE. WE. BROUGHT. FORTH
       

       

       
      (This is a Nolzur's Nightwalker, given a little bit mote pizazz than the all-black example. I knew immediately that with the bone-mask face and the horns, it was the perfect avatar for the cultists. GW contrasts and good setting sunlight on the translucent flames; a GW demon skull from their Skullz set manifested in the upraised hand.) 
      Featuring Dulkathar, Gromtar, Dark Creeper, a couple of Crooked Dice cultists, and Dark Young from RAFM and Reaper. (Reaper's 77516 is the big one in green).
    • By Rigel
      Let's talk about monsters for a bit. The name comes from the same root word as "demonstrate" and "monstrance"--attention-grabbing things that draw the mind to greater matters. Like comets, in ancient times, they were seen as more than just malformed dangerous beasts, but as a sign that something was deeply wrong in the world, or a portent of a great evil drawing near. Offenses against the gods, offenses against nature, great upheavals to the realms. 

      It is unclear to me how TSR conflated the Gorgons (women with petrifying glances and snakes for hair; Medusa was only the most famous) with the man-eating red-hot brazen bull of King Phalaris (or perhaps of the cruel engineer Perilaus, depending on how you read the story). But they did! And now there are minis of scutigerous metallic bulls snorting noxious gases.

      Now, let's talk about the colonial American West. 


      The interior of the country is vast and rugged. Overland journeys by wagon were grueling and dangerous--especially when traveling through the land of people who definitely did not want you around. The advent of the steam locomotive and the railroad was meant to expedite travel. And it did! 

       
      Ponderous iron-clad engines, belching smoke and steam, whistling like the screams of the damned. On rails laid by slave labor, expendable labor, immigrant labor, cheap labor worked to death, the railways wormed into the interior and crept across the Great Plains. 

      Again, I have to stress the Plains were already occupied, and the inhabitants were not happy to become casualties of Industrial Progress or Manifest Destiny. They were already using those plains! And at full strength they were a terrifying threat, incredible riders and archers who knew the land well. 

       

       

       

       
      To be specific, the Plains tribes mostly depended on herds of the bison, whose flesh, sinew, hide, hair, and horns provided them with their necessities. And when settler businessmen and governments realized this, they hatched a wicked plan. To aid and unify the genocidal little wars and massacres already ongoing, the colonists would exterminate the bison, and thus starve the indigenous peoples. 


       
      Mountains of buffalo skulls soared to the sky. The buzzards gorged themselves on the bullet-ridden flesh of enormous beasts left to rot. Displaced and starving, the dispossessed natives were forced off their land or killed in battle. Deep-rooted prairie grasses were replaced by wheat and corn monocultures, undoing the knotted mesh keeping the soil from blowing away. And the iron railroads and their riders advanced on, branching tendrils North and South. 

      This is the sort of cruel and egregious upheaval that creates monsters. And in the Weird West setting of my Bandits and Badlands game, the monster that came forth to demonstrate here is the P'izen Bison. 


       
      A steel-plated beast of immense size and strength, fueled by an unholy fire, spewing choking gases, bellowing from a rusted throat. 

       
      It tramples and devours and poisons. It renders the land waste around it, like Catoblepas and Bonnacon both. It destroys the works of man without discrimination.

       
      It reeks of sulfur and low-grade coal, burns to the touch, abrades the skin with steel wool. Its gaze paralyzes with dread. It eats men alive. 

       
      In short, it is a manifestation of all the externalities of Industrial Progress with none of the good parts.
       
       
      Various votaries of the Spirit of the Age, gadgeted up, encased in stoveplate armor and armed with steam-powered fists, have tried to stop it. But that's like trying to stop a spirit of vengeance with bullets, ain't it, pardner? Might as well try to make Old Man Buzzard gag, or try to out-lawyer Old Scratch. 

       

       
      ***
      Nolzur's Gorgon with some green stuff added to make it look more like a bison, plus a couple of smokestacks left over from VROOMgear and some cotton batting.
      The statuesque lady with the Arkansas toothpick is an Indian Princess from CP's Weird West line, while her elderly companion is their 28mm Victoriana Plains Indian Girl, aged up a bit. 

      Guest appearances from Hellstromme, 91002; Raven 59002, Shaman 59010, Chieftain 50113, and a couple Apaches from Artizan. Also the signpost from Western Sophie. The cacti were just on sale at a hobby store fake plants aisle. 
    • By Rigel
      The Fisherman's Rest. You know the place. The smell of stale beer, sea salt, rum, and fish scales.
       

       
      "Evenin,' Old Billy! How be ye these days?"
       


      "Oh, I be well enough, exceptin' as how me fishin' trip t'other day went. Now listen, lads. 'Twere a fine calm sunny day and I were far from shore, a-castin line for snapper..."

       

       

       

       

       

       
      "Wow!"
      "Nay, lad, there's none in town who can catch a minnow and sell a grouper like Old Billy."


      "Nay, swear on me old mum's grave it happened! But if ye find that hard to swallow, ye might be ill-prepared for what came after..."
       

       

       

       

       


      *urp* "no, now I think on it, twere more like this, aye, that sounds better."
       

       
      "...but the long and the short of it, I never DID catch that snapper."
       

       
      "Okay, Bill, time for ye to get some cold water in you."

       
      ***
      Chronoscope Pulp Ship's Captain and Ship Hand. Had them painted up, and the shark, but didn't have a good story until a friend gave me one of the Juvenile Kraken mini.
      Between the shark's integral splash-base, the squid's splash-stand, and the Water Elemental, we got some good scenery!

      I had a lot of fun making the Fisherman's Rest backdrop, too. Old Barkeep has heard all of these yarns before. 
    • By Rigel
      A barren, frozen planet. A pristine icefield, burnished and cleared by constant katabatic gales. Graven in elegant Old High Martian glyphs a meter deep in the never-thawing ice, a mathematical proof of such beauty and elegance as to make a genius weep...and a series of universal planetary coordinates. No advanced species could forbear to investigate further!

      These are the work of the Neh-Thalggu, more commonly known as the Braincrabs. Know them. Fear them. Do not trust them.


      Rugose and four-limbed, the first instar is little more than a brain-shaped crustacean beast. (Little Nolzur's Intellect Devourers, came with the Alhoon or Illithilich.) They are shed when the parent has a surfeit of brains and wishes to jettison lesser ones to make room for greater. 

       
      Most perish, being less clever than their prey. But if one can bring down a sentient creature through luck and stealth and devour its central ganglion or brain...it begins to grow, absorbing the knowledge and cunning of its prey, much as some sea slugs repurpose the stinging cells of their prey and make them their own.
       
      After absorbing a few brains, the instar grows into a juvenile. This involves generating more frontal eyes  and a pair of brutal skull-cracking pincers. Recently-added brains are sequestered into thin-shelled bubbles, an adaptation to make sure other, stronger Braincrabs do not kill them when marauding. 

       

       
      The juveniles are very dangerous, acting as psionic predators with the strength of a tiger and the intelligence of three or four sentient creatures, all brought to bear on the problem of obtaining more brains. Depending on its previous history, it is very likely to outwit the average sentient being.

       

       

       
      A Braincrab that has assimilated more than eight brains again metamorphoses, this time into a mountainous, many-limbed hulk, a spiny rugose colossus with a first-class think tank worth of neural tissue working for it. Psionic power abounds, and the elder Braincrab can create immersive illusions at-will or psychically dominate lesser wills. 

       

       

       


      The really unpleasant bit is the way it will out-argue you and succeed. It can make an excellent claim to being a Utility Monster, better at experiencing both reality and pleasure in the cosmos than us single-brained chumps. And what gives it the most pleasure, on the level you and I could never experience? (for so it claims, and has data to back it up--is the data faked? if so, it's too good for us to be able to tell!)? Why, devouring and assimilating more sentient brains! Do you have inconvenient brains in your society? Antisocial or sociopathic ones? It can redirect those energies! Oh, it's a persuasive monstrosity!
       

       

       

       
      The Martians fear and detest them, of course, having as they do great juicy brains practically dripping psionic energy. 

       
      But hunting something that is hunting you, while your strongest weapon is their favorite prey--it's not easy!

       
      A Martian High Intelligencer can outwit all but the eldest Braincrabs, but the gamble is a perilous one indeed. You do NOT want a braincrab with the powers of a High Intelligencer. That's how you get a planet converted to a brain farm, which in turn leads to Great Old Ones. Not even once! 

       

       
      Oddly, the best defense against the Braincrab is a hive of the insectoid Mandibulate Commonweal. One has the intelligence of a beast, two of a slightly smarter beast, five of an average human...and a whole hive can rival a supercomputer. Their individual brains are not worth a Braincrab's attention, and yet the hivemind can outmaneuver it intellectually as easily as the workers can swarm and savage it physically. 

      The Commonweal will not gain knowledge from the reclaimed brains, though. Only nourishment. 
       
      Below, how to make a juvenile Braincrab.
       
       
       
×
×
  • Create New...