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81
WIPs of Doom / Re: leadhead'z WIP
« Last post by Remerezz on October 09, 2014, 08:10:06 PM »
It's looking good. If the wall is going to be 'rendered' may I make a suggestion; use PVA glue. Apply it over the wall and leave it for a minute or two, then start 'stippling' it with an off cut piece of balsa as it dries. The end result is really effective...  :D
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Hasslefree / Re: Some Gauls
« Last post by leadhead on October 09, 2014, 03:17:13 PM »
Excellent stuff. :thumbup:
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Hasslefree Gaming and Fluffery / Grymn Fluff - Torsten and the end of the war
« Last post by Inso on October 09, 2014, 12:48:01 PM »
Torsten.

Torsten looked to his left and right with a satisfied smile.  On both sides of him, in tight little groups were Grymn squads as far as he could see through the trees along the forest edge.  They all wore camouflaged paint and had leaf litter spread over their kit to disguise them even further.  Torsten looked out of the trees and into the distance.  Across the green fields were the specks of far-off enemy troops and vehicles.  They were getting nearer but were still far enough away for Torsten to breathe the air and calm his thoughts, ready for the battle ahead.
This day had been a long time coming.  Time and time again, the Sleiti had sent their minions to try and destroy the Grymn.  Time and time again, the Grymn had fought bravely and triumphed.  Today was going to be different.  Today the Sleiti had arrived in great numbers to do their own dirty work.
Torsten’s thoughts were distracted for a moment as a pair of short range, ground attack, fighters raced over his head towards the enemy.  He watched them streak towards the Sleiti lines at breakneck speed before unleashing a stream of rockets into the ranks of enemy troops.  It seemed impossible but none of the rockets hit their mark as they seemed to be deflected by some unseen force that sent them twisting out of control in all directions.  While Torsten watched the scene, a blinding, blue tinged search-light cut through the sky; vapourising the lead fighter and cutting the wing off the second one.  He watched as the stricken aircraft instantly went into a flat spin and impacted the ground in spectacular fashion.  Torsten thought how brave the pilots had been and made a mental note that he would personally mark their names on the wall of fallen; if he made it back himself.
It had taken a long time for the enemy to close but now Torsten could see them clearly.  The sleek biological walking machines held the flanks while the bulk of the troops were the lithe figures of the Sleiti nobles; the Fathers.  They strode purposefully forward with the arrogance of a prince out hunting game.  Behind the foot-troops were unusually shaped hover vehicles with bizarrely shaped weapons mounted on them.  Torsten looked at the enemy and opened a communications channel to his army leaders. 
“Ready the troops and prepare to engage on my command” said Torsten.
There was no reply but Torsten could hear the sounds of weapons being made ready.  He turned to the Grymn stood to his left and smiled a fatherly smile.  The young Grymn was nervous but still stood proudly next to Torsten.  In one hand, he held a pulse pistol and in the other he held a bugle.  His eyes were shining and he appeared to be waiting keenly for the order to come.
“Sound the order, Jergen” said Torsten.
Jergen raised the bugle to his lips and sounded the attack.  Almost as soon as the first note could be heard, ripples of gunfire blazed from the tree-line.  No sooner had the first shots been fired, the Grymn assault walkers burst from the trees and into the flanks of the Sleiti, engaging with their opposite numbers.  Huge plumes of earth began to erupt in the ranks of Sleiti troops as the artillery found their mark and bodies began to spin, broken into the air.
The Sleiti continued to close.
To his right, Torsten heard the roar of jump packs as Tiger squadron screamed over head.  They dropped like eagles on to the Sleiti bio-tanks and began to assault them with pistols and power weapons; tearing at the skins of the tanks like frenzied animals ripping into stricken prey.  In support, grav bikes from Raven squadron weaved around the vehicles; strafing any areas that weren’t covered by brightly clad Grymn.  Through it all he noticed Thor, Torge’s bodyguard OGrymn, lift the front of a bio-tank and roll it over onto its side before un-sheathing his power hammer from his back and smashing it into the soft, underside of the vehicle.  In moments there was a mix of bile, blood and gore spilling from the wounds caused by the furious onslaught.
Without warning, the battlefield seemed to sigh.  It was almost like someone taking a deep breath before exhaling.  Torsten instinctively ducked and shouted for everyone to take cover but it was too late.  The shockwave rippled from the centre of the Sleiti army and spread out, like the strands of a spider-web.  Every Grymn that it touched was sent flying outward, away from the battle in an uncontrolled and often painful spiral.  Every Sleiti that was touched remained completely unaffected.
The onslaught that followed was unlike anything that Torsten had ever seen.  The lead Sleiti opened fire for the first time with devastating effect, their weapons spewing forth a continuous beam of pallid blue light.  Everything it hit was thrown backwards with such concussive force that armour could be heard to crack under the pressure.  Grymn were dying in their droves.  Torsten watched in horror as Sigurd was torn in half by one of the beams, her entrails spilling out like the tendrils of a jellyfish.   She was not alone as Gunnar met a similar fate and young Tearl was decapitated in a spray of arterial blood.  Torge’s command unit was next to be hit but they were too quick and jumped clear, only losing two of their number to the horrific weapons.  All around the battlefield the blue lights were doing their evil work.  Grymn were being tossed about like rag dolls with few Sleiti falling in return.  Torsten was furious.  He could feel the rage building in him like an unstoppable tide.  It would not be long before the berserk rage would take him and he would get his revenge.  He looked to Jergen and said “sound the reserves”.
Jergen blew his bugle and did as was ordered.  A terse stream of notes blared across the battle field.  On both flanks, Grymn tanks emerged and began to fire their rail-guns and heavy pulse-guns into the Sleiti forces.  Some tanks were destroyed by return fire but others continued with their slaughter.  In moments some of the lithe walkers that the Sleiti had positioned to protect their flanks, moved to engage the Grymn tanks.  Torsten knew that his time had come.
“Jergen...sound the Krakken call” he said.
The bugle sounded a single piercing note that seemed to go on for ever and strike deep into the very heart of every Grymn on the field.  All the Grymn in combat seemed to be invigorated by the sound as they redoubled their efforts and strove to succeed where they had been failing a moment ago.
Torsten tilted his head back and let loose a war-cry that was echoed from various places behind him in the trees.  His eyes were glazed and the veins on his forehead were pulsing with uncontained fury as he began his headlong charge toward the enemy; his glowing power axe gripped in an unbreakable grip.  His white powered-armour shone brightly as its servo enhanced systems drove Torsten forward as fast as a speeding scout-bike.  Following in his wake were at least fifty other power-armoured troops and they were storming towards the enemy with equal rage and speed.  Each of them wore white armour and carried a power axe and a variety of heavy carbine weapons.  Within moments the white surge met the lines of enemy troops and sheer carnage occurred.  Sleiti began to get thrown in all directions as the glowing blades with all the servo-assisted might of the powered-armour reaped through them.  Limbs were hewn and entrails spilled as Torsten and his fellow Krakken tore into the Sleiti with such fury that none could stand before them.  Even when Broff was struck and his carbine carrying arm was torn off at the elbow, his fury enabled him to continue fighting.  He bowled into his aggressor and disembowelled him with a single upward stroke of his axe.
The Sleiti were in disarray as the furious onslaught of the Krakken continued to decimate their ranks.  Although the odd one or two had fallen, the white clad warriors were causing so much damage that something needed to be done; and quickly too.  The Sleiti began to fall back.  At first in an orderly manner but then in a panic as the Krakken kept pace with them and continued their work.  After a short distance the battlefield sighed for a second time as the strange Sleiti weapon fired again, throwing all the Grymn outward from the source and not affecting any Sleiti in the process.  Once the effect had finished and the Grymn soldiers started to find their feet again, a small group of Sleiti stepped forward with their arms held out to the side.  They had blank expressions but seemed to be glowing with an unnatural light.  Suddenly there was a high pitched sound that echoed through the minds of all the Grymn.  Almost as one, they held their hand to their ears and dropped to their knees as intense pain filled every fibre of their bodies.  Blood began to seep through fingers as eardrums burst.  Red tears began to drip from bleeding eyes as the pain increased to an unbearable level.  It seemed that nothing could be done to prevent the searing torture that was being inflicted on them.  The Grymn were falling and there was nothing they could do but lie down.
Almost as quickly as the pain arrived, it finished.  Torsten felt as though he had woken from a dream as his berserk rage had left him.  He tried to get to his feet but every fibre of his body ached and he felt a wave of nausea rush through him.
“Stay your hand master Gryyymn, it is not your time for the fight” echoed a whispering voice through his mind.
Torsten looked around but saw nothing except a sudden look of terror cross the faces of the leading Sleiti.  Almost serenely, one of them dropped to the floor.  After a short moment, the others followed suit.  All around the battlefield was quiet as Grymn started climbing to their feet and regaining their composure.  As they rose, they noticed that there were allies amongst them and they were striding purposefully towards the enemy.  They were twice the height of Grymn and were wearing a mix of light armour plates and long robes.  They either carried a staff or a rifle but very little else.   Their modesty was covered by a tabard but apart from that, not a lot more. 
Soon the newcomers engaged the Sleiti.  It seemed a strange sort of fight as there were only the sounds of enemy weapons and not the new Grymn allies.  Everything that was thrown at them was deflected by an unseen force and when they returned fire with rifle or staff, Sleiti just seemed to die for no obvious reason as the allies weapons emitted no signs of being fired.
The Grymn reacted to what was going on and began a charge toward the enemy lines.  With a roar they bounded towards the Sleiti as they sensed that they could achieve a victory.  After a few hundred yards they came to an abrupt halt as they hit an invisible wall and were consumed by waves of nausea.  A whispered voice filled their heads...
“It is not your time to fight young Gryyymn” it said.
All they could do was watch as their new allies committed genocide in front of the Grymn.  Every last Sleiti was found and killed.  Every animated weapon, destroyed.  Not a sound came from the allied weaponry and everything that was killed just seemed to fall down dead with no injury or suffering.  They just fell down dead.  It was warfare the like of which had never been seen by the Grymn before.  There was no marshal pride or dignity involved.  There was no glory or bravery.  It was just a silent cull that left only a single Sleiti alive and his name was Ieuan.
As the assembled Grymn and their allies gathered around the table, the Sleiti named Ieuan looked at each of them with an emotionless stare.
“The war with the Gryyymn ends now and will not resume for all future” said the whispered voice in the minds of all those present “you will return to your species and pass on this dictate”.
Ieuan nodded and was allowed to leave the assembly, board his ship and leave.  He did so with no emotion and no sound.  He didn’t even give a backwards glance as the door closed and his ship shimmered into the sky.
Torsten turned to his ally and said “Zoota, is it finally over after all these years?”
“Yes Tooorsten Gryyymn, it is over” replied Zuuh’tah.
The Grymn war with the Sleiti had ended and they could now settle on their world in the knowledge that they would have to flee no more. 
The only thing they had to do now was to find out more about their new allies...
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Hasslefree / Re: Some Gauls
« Last post by beefcake on October 09, 2014, 09:33:59 AM »
Great work by Toutatis!
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Hasslefree / Some Gauls
« Last post by gi6ers on October 09, 2014, 07:56:05 AM »


Could probably benefit from more work but they are for me and I can't be bothered
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Hasslefree / Re: Fungus Folk (Agarix)
« Last post by gi6ers on October 09, 2014, 07:54:53 AM »
Funnily enough I have some of these in the queue. Nice job.
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Hasslefree / Re: Fungus Folk (Agarix)
« Last post by beefcake on October 09, 2014, 06:45:16 AM »
Really nice work. The colours look great. I must get some of them.
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Hasslefree Gaming and Fluffery / Grymn Fluff - Stefan.
« Last post by Inso on October 08, 2014, 07:17:57 PM »
Stefan

Stefan was a Grymn.  He was born on planet six; named so because it was the sixth planet settled since the freedom.  Planets one to five had been deserted by the Grymn because the Bohkin, followed by the Sleiti fleets, had found them.  The continuous fight and flight kept the Grymn fit, clever and on their toes; Stefan was no exception; being a veteran of many battles he now called planet nine his home…

‘Wha…Hmm…’

‘Wake up Stefan…Wake up!’

‘Who…where’s Jack?  He owes me money…’

‘Stefan…Bohkin!’

‘Get Kylie…NOW!’ 

Stefan launched himself from his bunk, he was already dressed and stank of mead, sweat and urine but his eyes were sharp and cruel.  He reached down to his bedside cabinet picked up an etched, silver SMG round and placed it in his pocket.  He then took a good draught from the bottle next to where the round used to be and turned to Sven, the young Grymn who had awoken him.

‘Well?  …Kylie?’

‘I don’t know who she is sir.’

‘Ha!  Of course you don’t, she’s my burner…and she’s a darn good one too.’

Sven went to the corner where a red burner sat neatly on a cushioned couch.  Along side it there were a small number of flasks and a box containing an immaculate weapon-cleaning kit.   He carefully picked up the weapon but in his haste it slipped from his grasp and the butt dropped to the floor.  Stefan crossed the room in a heartbeat and the back of his hand hit the young Grymn so hard across the jaw that he was out cold before he hit the floor.  He cradled Kylie and carefully inspected the weapon to make sure she wasn’t damaged.

‘Don’t worry Kylie; you’re in good hands now.’

Stefan looked at the prone Grymn; ‘More explaining to do’, he thought.

He grabbed his helmet and mask, buckled on his side pouches and spare flasks and left the billet with Kylie held firmly and a look of thunder on his face.

In the courtyard there was organised chaos.  Grymn were barking orders and following them; grabbing weapons and dashing off towards the sound of fighting.

‘Stefan!  Glad you’re still with us.  Follow Kjaran and reinforce the sun-side wall!’  Captain Torsten shouted.  He was a hulking figure dressed in powered armour, sporting a white-grey beard.

‘Yes Sir!’ Stefan replied.  ‘It’s a great day for it.’

‘Ha! It’s always a good day for killing Bohkin!’

Stefan smiled, shot a quick salute and strolled purposefully towards the sun-side wall.  When he arrived, there were many Grymn lining the wall and the Sangers, and they were all well equipped and battle ready.

‘Stefan!  Get yourself to Sanger two and prepare your friend.  We’ll funnel the filth towards you so you’d better be ready!’

‘I’m there, Kjaran…don’t fret yourself!’  He walked towards the Sanger and climbed through the small entry hatch.

‘By feth Stefan, you stink worse than a Dino-hound!  Did you sleep in a vat of mead?’

‘Antar, if it was anyone but you, I’d spit on your boots for that…but I suppose you’re right…there was a good lot of mead in my bunk this morning but I wouldn’t have drunk it a second time!’

‘Swamped again?  You’re back on form then you drunkard.’

‘Aye, I am that; a drunkard but I’m sober enough to burn a few nasties this fine morning.’

‘Well look to your front and keep your eyes peeled, the SMGs are chattering a welcome for them.’

Short bursts of controlled SMG fire rippled from the wall, followed by the whine of mini-guns and the roar of missiles.  Out across the fire-break the Dino-hounds broke from cover and piled forwards at break-neck speed; dodging the shot-falls and closing quickly on the walls.  There must have been a hundred of the multi-coloured, two limbed lizards and although they were starting to fall in the odd place, many of them were closing fast and would meet the walls in a few seconds.
Next to Stefan, Antar flicked the safety on his grenade launcher to fire, pointed the dangerous end through the fire-slit and pulled the trigger.  There was a deafening roar as the launch detonation echoed around the concrete Sanger, followed by a dull ‘crump’ as the anti personnel grenade exploded red-hot shrapnel; tearing the dinosaurs to pieces.

The Dino-hounds still kept coming, even though Antar pumped grenade after grenade into their ranks.  They were too close for grenades now and Antar drew his assault pistol and started firing single, aimed shots at the approaching creatures.

Stefan took a deep breath, fastened his mask and closed his eyes.  He thought of his beloved Kylie, how the Bohkin had captured, tortured and killed her; how they had left her bloodied, lifeless form nailed to a tree-stump; how they had taken her away from him…and his demeanour changed.  Gone was the brightness to his eyes.  Gone was the jovial banter.  Gone was any mercy.  Stefan needed this change before battle.  It was the only way he could deal with the terrible job he had to do.  It wasn’t easy listening to the sizzle of flesh or the screams of the burning.  It wasn’t easy watching figures wreathed in flame dissolving in front of your eyes.  It wasn’t easy, smelling the odour of death; so acrid that it clogged the filters in his mask and he could taste it.

‘My turn, I think’ He said to Antar as he also flicked his weapon’s safety to fire, pointing the nozzle through his vision slit.
 
‘Sing to me Kylie!’  He boomed as he squeezed the trigger and a huge jet of super heated chemicals spewed forth, vaporising the nearest of the Dino-hounds and throwing those following into disorganised panic.

‘It seems they don’t enjoy our welcome, eh Kylie?’ He said, his face set in a grimacing smile.

After a good few bursts of flame, Stefan watched as the remaining few Dino-hounds started running back towards the edge of the fire-break.  He always enjoyed this because the Bohkin were forced to detonate their collars when this happened to prevent the deranged creatures attacking their masters.  As expected, the remaining creatures started bursting apart.  Not long after the last one fell, the Bohkin broke cover and swarmed towards the walls; heavy weapons covering while they ran headlong into the maelstrom.

‘I’d admire them if it wasn’t for the fact that they are Bohkin scum.’ said Antar, whilst looking towards Stefan.

‘I’ll never admire them.’ He replied ‘They use their hounds to see where the guns are because they are too scared to approach us on equal terms’.  He snorted ‘they are cowardly fethers who deserve the death I give them…a bullet is too good for them.’

Stefan steadied himself as the Bohkin support munitions began to detonate around the fortifications.  He could feel the force through the ground and he could hear the cries of those thrown into the air or wounded or killed by the blasts.  The Grymn return fire was becoming a little sporadic as the lines faltered and needed reinforcing but it still carried on and the Bohkin were falling in their droves.
It wasn’t enough though.  The Bohkin were closing on the walls and now the ‘thwip’, ‘thwip’ of small arms fire could be heard as they came into range.
Antar holstered his pistol again and started launching grenades.  The smell of cordite permeated Stefan’s mask and he could taste the metal in it.  Stefan checked Kylie and made sure that her fuel tank was still fairly full.  He tapped the flasks on his belt and could feel that there was plenty of fuel left in them.  He looked out of the vision slit and could see the horde racing towards them.  Every now and again, plumes of earth burst into the air; taking with it a dozen or so Bohkin at a time but it wasn’t enough, they still kept coming.

Stefan put Kylies nozzle through the vision slit again and waited until the enemy was close enough to burn.  When they were in range he squeezed the trigger and the burning began.  After the first jet hit home, the Bohkin stopped in their tracks and started trying to avoid their burning comrades; who were now running wildly around, trying to extinguish the flames.  Bullets started hitting the Sanger as the Bohkin trained their weapons on the threat.  As they advanced, Stefan waited and then unleashed another blast of flame; toasting the nearest and causing chaos again.  This exchange happened again and again.  The Bohkin small arms turned to grenades and heavier weapons but the Sanger still held and Antar and Stefan were kept safe.
 
After what seemed an age, the attack on the Sanger faltered and the Bohkin started running in all directions, shooting into the air.  Stefan smiled as he heard the whine of turbo-fans and pulse-jets.  Flame and Tiger squadrons had arrived.  Flame Squadron was made up of jet-bikes armed with mini-guns and missiles and they were busy strafing the Bohkin lines.  Tiger Squadron was made up of jump-troopers, armed with pistols, power-blades and a complete disregard for their personal safety.  Lieutenant Torge was renowned in the mess hall for causing affray and he was the leader of Tiger Squadron.  Stefan watched as the bikes disappeared and the Tigers ripped into the enemy troops with such ferocity that the Bohkin were fleeing in panic.  As the Tigers continued their work, the light infantry started advancing on the remaining enemy, killing those foolish enough to remain in the fight.  The Bohkin were finished and those that could do fled the field to lick their wounds.

 ‘It’s done Antar; they’ve finished their game for the time being.’

‘Aye and they’ve left me a gift.’

Stefan looked towards Antar and noticed that he looked a little grey in the face.  There was a red stain emanating from his right armpit and it looked like he may well pass out.  Stefan placed Kylie on the ground and went to Antar’s aid, removing his shoulder and chest plates and opening his fatigues so that he could see where the blood was coming from.  He found a neat little hole in the front of his right side and a ragged hole at the back.  He pulled his field dressing from his pouch and tore open the packet.  Carefully he strapped it over the ragged hole and sealed it with medi-foam.  He also sealed the smaller wound and made sure Antar was sitting comfortably as he gave him a shot of pain-ease. 

‘MEDIC!’ cried Stefan, ‘MEDIC!’

Stefan sat with Antar after checking to make sure that it was safe outside and did so until help arrived.  Once he was sure that Antar was in good hands, he slung Kylie over his shoulder and went to survey the battlefield.

Stefan walked among the corpses, their twisted forms lying all around.  There were many more Bohkin than Grymn but when ever he found an ally, he checked for signs of life but he wasn’t very lucky today…there were none.  He breathed deeply, sighed and said dryly…

‘Well Kylie, another day; another battle won’.

He turned back towards the gate and whistled as he strolled forwards.  There were graves to be dug and mead to be drunk.
89
Suggestions (HF) / Re: Further Galactic Navy Figures
« Last post by Artemis Black on October 08, 2014, 07:08:20 PM »
The "Tabitha" figure, if given a yellow dress in the style of the comms officer and nurse, would make an excellent starship captain...
Grif

We are planning a third actually, just waiting on Kev to decide which mini or dolly could be used for the conversion :)
90
Announcements and News / Re: Sculpting Competition *NEW THREAD*
« Last post by Artemis Black on October 08, 2014, 07:06:07 PM »
Heyhey, thanks for all the effort.

I'm the kind of git who still isn't sure about how the thing works. :D Today I placed an order, and used my code. Does this automatically imply that the models from the winners mold are sent to me along with the models ordered or should I send a little email along just to be sure?

P.S.: My entry was deemed not castble right away, so I never sent in the green.

Always best to err on the side of caution and email Jenn. We've started sending out the orders/packages now so to guarantee it goes out faster beter to email and clarify that you are done and won't want anything else etc. :)

Thanks everyone else for the kind words, we're at the business end of closing this up now :)
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