What has four wheels, two platforms and a scythed log?

The Snotling foreman was waving his tiny hands in the air, attempting to get the attention of his fellow diminutives.  After a few more minutes the horde of tiny eyes turned upon their non-appointed spokesman.

“Bruvvaz,” he exclaimed “da time haz cum ta show our mighty and brutal oppressors dat we da downtrodden and expendable can do fings as badly as any udder greenskin!”

Cheers greeted his words, along with a loud laugh from Wizza Knowot who was watching on from the shade of his tent.  Wizza could not believe his ears, these little buggers were actually accepting their miserable lot and life and embracing it.  Truely the world was a mysterious place he thought.

“Bruvvaz it is time ta show our menacing mastaz our insane glory!”  The foreman pointed at the lumps in the camp that had been covered in mouldy blankets, tarpaulins and animal hides.  With much excitement the horde of creatures swarmed over the lumps stripping the covering off and revealing a two storey cart with scythed logs.

The pump wagon had been created, and it’s insanity would plague Wizza for years to come.

Has Wizza been stumped?

Wizza was worried, he’d heard that Grog Tooftayka had had a moment of inspiration and was doing things of his own making.  This worried Wizza no end, the last time he’d been absent, Grog had decided that the wheels on the chariots and wagons were to be replaced with square ones.  This had come about after a wagon had rolled away from its handlers and knocked Grog to the ground.  Grog reasoned that if the wheels had been square it would not have rolled and therefore would not have left him lying in pig excrement.  Wizza had spent two days undoing the damage of this decision, Grog only changing his mind when he found his favourite chariot would not go fast enough and kept jolting him off platform every time the wheel turned.  What madness would Wizza find this time upon his return?

As he approached the sprawling camp, he dodged the odd ambitious goblin assassin, avoided the hungry boar and wolf which were looking for a quick bite and then he saw the felled trees, woodchips and very blunt axes.  Around the communal camp fire he could see four giant shapes looming above the throng of goblinoid audience.  Oh no he thought, please don’t let it be giants he pleaded to the gods, the last one had almost eaten the entire warband before it had wandered off.

It wasn’t any giant; it was the Black Orc leaders standing upon wooden stumps, heads and shoulders above all the other lads.  As to where Grog was, there was no sign and that was just as worrying.  Damn that Gobbo trader who brought supplies and sold information, he must have told Grog about the Dwarven shield bearers and oath stones.  The tree trunks upon which the boasting leaders stood had been painted in garish colours to identify their particular owner.  The only good Wizza could see coming from this was a high turnover in champions as enemy archers picked them off from their now exposed position.

But where was Grog?  Who cares, but all will be revealed shortly...

Gutkill and Snapstik

Who's the new Standard Bearer?
On the right - Stompabitz

Wizza is visited by Gork & Mork and by Snotlings

The moonlight gazed despondently upon the Orc camp of Grog Tooftayka, its shafts of light picking out the slumbering bodies of orc and goblin.  Yet there was another group of goblinoids that had been overlooked.  Tiny in size to an Orc, they scampered around the camp, eating the scraps to small to feed the camps carnivorous riding mounts.  They were the Snotlings, and they were becoming... what?

Wizza tossed and turned inside his tent, his dreams broken by the shouts of Mork and Gork as they attempted to intrude upon his dreamscape.  After what seemed a life time Wizza finally gave up, stop moving and mentally screamed at his gods to “shut ya gobs and start again”.

“Wizza, king of the goblins....” spoke Mork.

“Whys he not grovelling Mork?  That’s wot all dem uvvers do when we’z talk ta dem.  Why’z dis un diff’rent?” interjected Gork in puzzlement and dismay.

“I’z memba when a god spoke dem bugga’s listened and grovelled.  It waz kool!”

Mork looked at Gork and said “Kool? Wot ya git words like dem from?  Oh itz dem new skooled greenies ain’t it?  I told ya, listen to dem Snotlings and ya brain, what little der is, will rot.”

Wizza sighed and switched of his contact with his gods.  It was no use now, the pair of them will be having a metaphysical conversation over the dynamics of interplanar conjunctions before they realised that had been talking to him.  But where did those big words come from he pondered?

Yet for all the interruption the gods did mention the Snotlings.  What did this portent?  Not knowing what to make of it he picked up his sleeping club, and applied a vigorous clout to the side of his head and promptly fell asleep.

Morning saw Wizza cradling his head and swearing that the cure was worse than the symptom a lack of sleep.  The noise coming from outside his tent was growing as was the irate shouting that was clearly coming from Grog.  Getting unsteadily to his feet, and grabbing his staff he hobbled outside into the dazzling light.

Tiny voices were raised in a tune, which had no tune and with lyrics that made little rhythmic sense.

“Wez is Snotlings, cowardly true
Wez come to battle coz you blew dat cow horn
Wez can fight, don’t ya worry
Wez be dead and ya won’t be sorry!”

There arraying in what the Snotling thought were ranks but in all honesty were just clumps of them clustered around one of their number that seemed to know what he knew.

Oh gods thought Wizza, they organised themselves into a union!

What will this mean for the battle prospects of Grog Tooftayka, who knows but stay tuned!

Eldar Scout Walkers from Citadel Journal #8

I am going to have to have a search through my old White Dwarf collection (starts about issue 5) and find that particular issue that covered these conversions.  However my old mind thinks it could have been a early Citadel Journal, oh well, I shall search but will most likely have some very kind soul point me in the right direction.

Enjoy!

Addendum: Thanks Richard Legg who found that the article was in a Citadel Journal.  It's #8, pages 36-39.

Will the Rock Lobba (Skull Crusher) replace the Lead Belcher?

"Wizza, look wot I'z got!" exclaimed and excited and jubilant Grog Tooftayka.

Wizza looked up from his task of reoganising his fetish collection with mild alarm.  He always worried when Grog got excited, it meant more work for him in the long run.  His gaze was drawn to the garishly painted red skull chucker.

"It tosses rocks ten times faster than a plain 'un, itz da red paint dat duz it, so dat Gobbo trada sayz." Grog eyes where misting with tears of happiness, or it might have been the kick he got from Wizza to his nadgers.

"Boss how much did ya pay for dis?" said Wizza as he cautiously prodded the painted war machine.  His finger poked through the veneer of thick paint to find that the rot was just not imagined.

"Iz paid 500 shinies!  It woz a bargain, I tell ya."

Wizza thought he could just catch the Gobbo merchant before he reached the Maze and disappeared with the ladz pay.

"Now we don't have ta pay for dat expensuv bang powda, so we's save big time."

Will the Skull Crusher replace the Lead Belcher?  Stay tuned for future episodes....

Sadly missing the Commander figure, but all else is there.

Back to the Future - Warhammer 40,000

While I love my WFB old world figures, I do have a passion for the really early figures of 40K.  The little world I game in here in Brisbane, Australia have opted for 2nd Edition 40K Rules as the way forward.  I've started with Orks and Space Marines.  Below are my dreadnoughts I have recently acquired.  I do apologise for the "shine" on the shots.  I ran out of my stored supply of flat varnish and only had a choice of satin or gloss.  My local stores don't even stock flat varnish so I had to settle on satin as the lesser evil.

Enjoy.

Addendum: 16th June 2014
Here is the latest (let's not hope last) Dreadnought.  I confess that I have never seen the model with single bolter on the hands, so I was over joyed when I was able to acquire this one thanks to the very kind man Simon Machin.  (BTW I hate Satin varnish, once I can find flat varnish again everything will be redone!)

Named after the Lead Mountain Rescue Hero Glen Taylor.

Ogres for Tooftakya

Here are the Ogres I've collected over the ages.  By basing style has changed as I just can't push myself to put that much effort into them these days.  Sad but true, the older you get the less time there is to do things.

16 in all, although there is a double up of the shaman (though it was initially listed as a troll somewhere in the past).  So I have 15 singular Ogres.