I’m trying my damnedest to keep momentum going on my two horde army projects, but my general apathy towards modern GW games and the high burnout potential of large army builds really puts up some interesting barriers for me! Luckily, I really dig the Kruleboyz, they have a vibe that screams cool, and they’re fun to paint. I don’t know if painting fifty of them will be fun, but we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.
I’m trying not to use straight up stock miniatures as much as possible, just to keep things distinctly mine. A lot of the Kruleboyz models will be masked, which is an easy conversion by just gluing spare scareshields to their faces. It looks pretty cool to me, and sparked some lore for the army, too!
Grimmguttz was feeling less than kunning. Frankly, he was feeling dizzy, and like he was about to bring up this morning’s double portion of Stankdredd Hash. He decided to hazard a peak, cracked an eye open a hair, and began to spew forth a torrent of hash the likes of which hadn’t been seen since his Stubbins, his steward and personal chef, had been allowed to arrange the Fumpin’ Day feast.
It was only after passing what appeared to be several gallons of noxious, neon vomit did Grimmguttz realize he was rotating about in the air. Each convulsion sent him spinning around faster, the colors of his stomach’s demise liberally painting the already psychedelic landscape with lurid splashes and sprays of color.
Grimmguttz bit back the next retch, swallowed it back down, and held his breath until he stopped spinning, which took close to an hour. No matter, he thought to himself, this was nowhere near the longest he had held his breath. He could wait it out.
Finally, his lurching rotation came to a blessed, lurching stop. Grimmguttz reached out daintily with an outstretched foot, then tried to tip-toe through the air to the ground. This accomplished nothing, so he whispered a threat to Gorkamorka and dove forward, gracefully striking his chin against the craggy ground.
Grimmgutz sat up, running his sore jaw and cursing quietly to himself. He suddenly realized that he wasn’t alone. “CAW!” said the crow, blinking all six of its eyes in unison. It was the largest crow Grimmguttz had ever seen, and the lurching, sickening colors strobing through landscape and air was reflected in its feathers.
“Same atcha, stoopid bird”, burped Grimmguttz, still massaging feeling into his jaw.
“CAW! CAW! CAAAAW!!!” screamed the crow, causing Grimmguttz to scramble defensively back on his ass.
“But dey is da gods!” muttered Grimmguttz, shocked at the blasphemy the crow had just uttered.
“CAW! CAAAAAAAW!” yelled the crow.
“I see, I see”, answered Grimmguttz, as a plan bloomed freshly into place in his mind. “But to do dat, dere wood ‘ave to be a heap o’ scrappin’ an frumpin’ first, speshully if’ we’s gunna get dat much Waaagh built up!”
“CAW!” agreed the crow, flapping its wings lazily.
“But even den, da gods wood sees us a comin’ miles away and fess wutt we’s a doin’ fore we had a chance a da trick!”
A wisp of purple energy started to coalesce around the bird, obscuring its appearance. Grimmguttz watched, fascinated and confused as the crow became impossible to discern from the landscape.
And with that, Grimmguttz the Kunnin’ came to in the Stankdredd marsh, sprawled on the ground next to Grakkskull’s hut. The boss looked down at the battered, nauseous wizard and let out a chuckle.
“Nice a yoos to join us, Guttz”, said the boss, strapping his scareshield to his arm. Grimmguttz stared into the face of the shield, a plan forming in his mind. A plan that would make it so the gods, even as formidable as they were, would never see Grakkskull’s krew coming…
… and even if they did, wouldn’t know who it was, until it was too late.
I’ll have more on Grakkskull and Grimmguttz, as they plot to raise enough Waaagh energy to elevate the Throne of Crows to divinity!
Grimmleigh's Lab 