Showing posts with label Centaur. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Centaur. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 5, 2021

Steve's Cult of the New Colossus: A Minor Tour of the Newest Recruits of the Cult (1407 points)

Rank and File #4

Wermius clutched his head in an attempt to steady the reeling of his mind. How far could he go in comprehending the works of the Colossus and the beloved Godhead? He a mere man. It felt as though some sphinx of flesh and brass had bashed open his skull and eaten up the brains inside. A sphinx much like the enormous creature, some brutish union of Ogre and Dragon, that reposed nearby in all its impossible majesty. How far did it go Wermius feverishly wondered. The Beastmen had been a revelation and confirmation of the power of the living God he and his brother clergy had pledged themselves to. Yet there seemed no end to the diverse forms of creatures that now flocked to the banner he held dear. His very frame of reference to the real physical world seemed to be spiralling out of his grasp as he encountered each new example of the mutability of flesh. What future had mere men in the plans of the Colossus other than utter destruction and ruin?


Wermius reflected too on how the Cult had fared recently. Some months past and from the forests that surrounded Talabheim had come their menagerie of beast-like men and men-like beasts and the Cult had taken them in gladly. Their existence only proved the power of the Colossus and their ferocity often proved useful when their creed was met with hatred and opposition.


 Fortunes, however, had begun to turn and the brethren found themselves beset on all sides by the nonbeliever - whether by the pitchfork and burning torch of the ignorant and fearful peasant mob or the sword and lance of the heretic knight templars who subjugated the masses to the will of their false Gods. The cult was nonetheless forced to retreat from the lands of men. Even passage through the old mountain passes had not been easy, harried as they were by the damnable and recusant Dwarf remnant who still persisted among the high peaks. Forced back in to the Blasted Wastes, the followers of the New Colossus had wandered directionless and here Wermius was to find himself sorely tested - as they all were.


Well we're getting in to the big hitters of the Cult now and the more stable mutations in the form of Centaurs and Minotaurs. I think any cogent narrative of how they fit in with the original Human elements of the Cult is now lost and the whole enterprise begins to spiral in to madness and excess as is Chaos' wont! 


Previous entries have had Heavy Metal influences and this one is no different and is brought to you courtesy of the excellent Mastodon! I have them to thank for the Centaurs' banner as the cover of their album, Remission, looked very fitting for a wild bunch of mutated horse boys! 


The quote on the banner comes from Anne Bishop's Queen of Darkness - not something I've read but her description of Centaurs rang true for me for this project, "The living myth. Dreams made flesh."


I've always loved the Northern Steppe that features in the old Dolgan Raiders scenario, in which Centaurs also appear. These chaps will no doubt appear in future games set there so I based the majority of them on Prsewalski's horse which roams the Eurasian Steppes of our world.


The standard bearer is based on Frazetta's Moon Maid and the Centaur. Sadly I had no Moon Maiden for him.


The odd man out is a Boar Centaur from one of Tim Prow's excellent Kickstarters a while back!


In to the wilderness they had been led by madness, or perhaps by their mad God. In to the wilderness of stone where the dead tree gave no shelter and no sound of water relieved desperate ears. Dry sterile thunder mocked them with the empty promise of rain and in their hungry delirium they were driven to look upon the stones on the ground as loaves of bread. Visions afflicted them - a dead mountain with mouth agape and full of rotten and carious teeth, red sullen faces leering from out of the haze, a great horned figure with fists raised to the uncaring sky and always that elusive shadow that walked ever beside them, gliding, wrapped in brown mantle and hood, who faded from sight when looked for. Under the pitiless sun the pitiful crowd maundered, futilely seeking shelter in their own shadows. Yet the agony of this stony place, the cries, the shrieks and the stumbling in the cracked earth were not for naught. Here they came to learn the true fear that lay in a handful of dust, to see that they who were living were dying, and better to be ashes than that frightful dust. With these revelations came a certain sense of peace. Where there was once neither refuge nor shelter, they now enjoyed cool respite in the shade offered by the New Colossus, where others cast no shadow. Here, for a time, the horror grew mild and the darkness light.


Despite returning to work this month from a long furlough due to Covid, I had intended on reigning in the quantity of miniatures I'd be attempting. That intention was foolishly ignored as I've been champing at the bit to paint some big monsters! 


This represents part of the Chaotic Host that is bound to the Cult after they are discovered in the Blasted Wastes. I liked the idea of the Cult beginning to run out of control as it grew and the original Human zealots feeling increasingly overwhelmed at what their organisation was turning in to! 








I couldn't resist copying the colour scheme from the Citadel Combat Cards for this Dragon Ogre - a mini I have coveted since laying my eyes on its picture on those cards!


A shout rang out at the sight of smoke on the horizon and the Cult was drawn to this sign of life like moths to a flame. Upon clearing a small ridge, they looked down upon a truly hellish scene. Great beasts lay all around in the dust, languorously basking in the heat. The air was rent with the bellowing of huge bull headed monsters and the screams of their human victims who they tossed in to the firey mouth of a great brazen bull. Amidst the terrible lowing chorus a name became discernible... Moloch, Moloch, Great Moloch, Nightmare of Moloch!


I have to admit the Minotaurs were the ones that really fired my imagination this month. I've always loved the miniatures but on top of that there was a whole load of mythology and art to draw upon to give them their own flavour within the Cult. 


In particular the cover art to Mastodon's album, The Hunter has been haunting my dreams. It features one of AJ Fosik's artworks and I'm quite a bit in love with his blend of religious icongraphy, folk art, taxidermy and cultural ritual. Not only that but I was amazed to find they were amazingly intricate wooden sculptures too! 


I attempted to replicate his highly stylised colour schemes on my Minotaurs with varying degrees of success!






The banner is based on another of his artworks entitled Strange Regions in Search of Beauty, Awe or Terror. Not only did I feel the title resonated with the Cult but the image of a (possibly skinned?) bull's head thrusting through a Human head and skull was pretty apt for my Minotaurs!


I had wanted to work in a reference to Moloch (more on which later!) with this piece by Jason Mowry, entitled Moloch, which also features the juxtaposition of a human face with that of a bull but Fosik won out!




I thought Jes Goodwin's Mutant Ogre actually makes quite a good mutated Minotaur!




So as I said earlier, I also had to work Moloch in to the narrative somehow and the bull headed Minotaurs seemed a good fit for this bull headed, sacrifice demanding God. Who else would such bloodthirsty creatures worship! 


The idea of a statue of Moloch that also functions as a means of sacrificing victims reminded me of the old torture device, the Brazen Bull...



Which in turn also reminded me of the bible story of the worship of the Golden Calf...


... and the Charging Bull of Wall Street - which some have likened to the aforesaid Golden Calf!


The Wall Street Bull resides in New York, which for me calls to mind Ginsberg's poem, Howl. The repeated refrain of Moloch in the second verse, although a metaphor for the limitless and destructive appetite of industrial civilisation, nonetheless feeds in well to the themes of desperation and being consumed by greater powers that I've worked in to the Cult of the New Colossus.


By which long-winded and torturous mental gymnastics I arrived at this monstrosity!


I guess it'd be some kind of mix between a War Altar, Idol and Demon Engine!


I had hoped to get Scotia Grendel's Eye of Gorath painted up so he could push the whole contraption along and provide a source of locomotion but that'll have to wait for another month.



Whatever it is I had fun attempting heat tarnish effects on the bronze - no idea if verdigris would be present with such high temperatures but the rule of cool won out anyway! 


Don't even ask how the wooden structure survives the heat - it's magic ;)


Once they might have quailed at such a sight. Now though, the spectacle of the absolute dissolution and immolation of their fellow man by fire, offered up as sacrifice to a demoniac and horned God, brought the brethren of the New Colossus renewed religious fervour. They hailed the great bulls of Moloch and came to an understanding with them for they knew that their Colossus, the Beastmen's King Stag and now Moloch were but three aspects of the power they all revered. A frenzied chorus of prayer was offered up by those with any semblance to human vocal chords, in honour of this new union and strengthening of their following -

"O friends and companions of night, thou who rejoicest in the baying of dogs and spilt blood, who wanderest in the midst of shades among the tombs, who longest for blood and bringest terror to mortals, Great Stag, Moloch, thousand-faced Colossus, look favourably on our sacrifices!"


Now, marching away from the wastelands with new purpose, the burgeoning cult yearned to do their God's work. They would overturn the Empire of Man and throw his ashes to the four winds. His towers would fall and they would pile the ruins of his temples in to a heap of broken images. They would kill him and his Gods too. They would watch the world burn. Amongst the hooded horde that swarmed back over the mountains, Wermius still clung to some last vestiges of sanity and with them he reflected on how it was a truly fearful thing to be in the hands of a living God...

10 Minotaurs 506
Pasiphae’s Brood
Hand weapons, standard
Led by L10 Hero - light armour double handed weapon

7 Chaos Centaurs 464
Chiron’s Children
L10 hero, light armour, hand weapons, shields

Dragon Ogre                                87

Hydra                                            200

Cockatrice                                    150

Demon Engine/Idol/War Altar of Moloch            Free - I guess the easiest thing is to consider it a terrain piece!

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