mortem tyrannis: neuron plague

The Weeping. Mutterflux. The Slithering Scourge. Neuron Plague. Somnambuphage. It is known by many names, but we all know the result:

urgh.

...

Two mobs of 14 plague zombies. A mixture of the recent Poxwalker miniatures from Games Workshop (some of them mildly converted), classic Necromunda Plague Zombies, and a bunch of weird conversions the ideas for which were largely nicked from Wilhelm.

These were all mostly painted with washes and largely pre-date Contrast paints, being done in bits and pieces over the last couple years.

Below the cut for a big pile of gross disease-ridden thingos.

mortem tyrannis: praise! joy!

Cast aside the bronzed lie of the Emperor, He who brings death, He who takes away your children, murders your cousins, takes your lives and offers you nothing but endless grey for a future.

Throw aside the crushing golden heel of the Empire - come with us, O cousins! O sisters! O daughters and uncles! - come with us into a bright and sticky future.

There will be only peace.

graffiti may be the voice of the people, but oppressors only listen to gunfire

We've seen these lovely scavvies and renegade guard several times in Necromunda, where they form a street gang. In the platoon-to-company scale game of 40K, they form a mob of oozing cultists, prepared to die to defend their saviours-in-white, the sons and servants of Him Who Is King Behind the Mask: The Cult of the Three-Eyed King.

The nucleus of the cult was a handful of models I'd hacked together in about 2004 or so, the last time I'd played Necromunda, using some bits from a friend's Skaven Mordheim gang and a few Cadian guard that I'd bought in the vain hope of starting a new project. They played a few games, got some thoroughly average paint jobs and sat in dust and decrepitude for something like fifteen years until I got back into the hobby hard a couple years ago.

join us! never know pain or hunger again! joy! praise!

I then rescued a couple of them, stripped them and gave them marginally better paint schemes. I've since added to the Cult, and now it stands at a healthy twenty-one figures; three times seven - an auspicious and sacred number to the High Lords of the Warp, They Who Bless and Prosper Us, Yea! E'en Here in the Depths of this Hive.

Why don't we go through them? Meet the family. Hear the whispers. Taste the blessings of the Winged Lord and His Great Servants; let Them feed you...

+ + + Gangs Grapple in Ghast Grove + + +

The hivequakes that have been causing the dustshowers in sector C8N-J017 have continued intermittently over the last few months. In the bowels of the sump, the shifting carcass of Hive Primus has caused microfractures to appear in the skin of the hive, allowing groups of wastelanders through. Unlike the nomads of the ash wastes, these snivelling bandits are scarcely more than rad-burned scavvies, stunted and sickly in the healthy phosphorescence of the hive.

Wastelanders by Jim

Their creepy witch, Moonchild, leads a tiny handful of the Wastelanders into the Underhive proper, sniffing out a local grove of Ghast-quality sporicles. Unfortunately for these interlopes into the outlands, the grove is sought after by several of the local gangs, including the Nightshade Crew of House Escher.

Nightshade Crew by Mangs

Of course, the grove is also infested with the skavvies that serve the Three-Eyed King. Glory to Him in Yellow! He infuses and blesses us! Hail!

Cult of the Three-Eyed King in Yellow by me
(missing Žuta!)

We played the mission Ghast Harvest. Being a straightforward 'loot the containers' scenario, this didn't really need much modification for three players beyond rotating priority among all three of us.

We randomly rolled up our gangers and got to work...

+ + + Border Skirmish with Outlaw Mutants! + + +

The underhive creaks, a stirring of dust trickling through seventeen layers of ancient civilization, abandoned factora, desecrated shrines to petty military-industrial divinities. Soon, this borderzone just past Dust Falls will become a scene of blood and death. For now, a three-spined rat grooms itself under the dust shower...

The cohort of scavvy muties that call themselves the Cult of the Three-Eyed King face down Dust Falls United Metalworkers on a scrappy borderlevel of Hive Primus, as a chance meeting between Herne and the Goliath Shin goes pretty much as you'd expect...

Herne, lit by the glare of some fading Solar-esque™ floodlights