Somewhere to put my pictures and other ramblings on the wonderful world of Oldhammer and miniature wargaming.
Loud blared the horns of war and the air was rent with the staccato rhythm of blades clashing. Giudas stood on the small raise above the battlefield and looked on, eyes ablaze and the blood roaring in his ears like thunder. This was it - his moment of vindication, his one shot at glory with the town lying at his feet, ripe for the taking.
Kurtz drew his foot languidly through the ash that blanketed the ground. Absent-mindedly he toyed with an old finger bone that lay in the dust with the worn toe of his boot. The scene before him was a familiar one - men, women, others - sat huddled together in small groups or alone, cloaks wrapped tight against the keening wind as the brackish waters of the river rolled sluggishly by. Yesterday they had marched and fought and waited and they would do it all again today.