A Plan Brewing

Bjorgen Thundrik took a deep pull from his tankard. He tried to hide his expression, but his eyebrows involutely raised in surprise at the quality (and alcohol content) of the beer he sampled. There was no doubt that this abv in this mug was higher than even the customary Duardin draughts. 

Across the table in the dimly lit back corner of the Blue Drake Tavern, Jakkob Bugmansson XI smiled into his own cup. At this point in his career he had become quite accustomed to the reaction he could read the across the face of Profiteer.

"So, do we have a deal then?" he asked as we swirled the sweet amber poison around in his tankard.

Bjorgen looked the brewmaster steady in the eye as he drained the rest of his mug before speaking. "To give credit where it's due, this is an amazing ale you've got here. But, I'm still a bit cloudy as to why you're coming to me with an offer of exclusive distribution. I'm just a retired Profiteer whose hung up his armour and retired to running a little tavern."

Jakkob put down his mug and leaned closer to Bjorgen before speaking in a voice lower and laced with humour. "O come now Thundrik, we both no better than that! Sure you've got this seedy little bar on the edge of outsider ring here on Barak-Nar, but you've got similarly placed whole-in-the-walls on both Barak-Zilfin and Barak-Urbaz; and you're looking to purchase another on Barak-Zon as well. I don't know what this is all about, but I want in."

Before Bjorgen could protest in surprise, Jakkob then also added, "And I also want to stick it to Grungsson. I know you can't stand him either, so I figure whatever you've got planned will involve ruining his day. For that reason alone I want in." 

With that Jakkob leaned back from his conspiratorial stance and finished the rest of his mug while eying Bjorgen.

"Alright, Bugmansson, you've got a deal. I can't tell you what all you're in for as of yet, both you seem to have your finger in the wind. My tavern will definitely benefit from your brews, and my Gunhauler from your navigational. Pour another round and let's drink to our new partnership."

I recently finished up Jakkob Bugmansson XI. As can be deduced from the above piece of narrative, I plan on running him with Thundrik's crew in a dedicated Gunhauler for flanks and objectives. 

I painted the brewer using the same tones as the rest of the army, but with a less pronounced blue than on the bulk of the Shiny Bois. I figure the brewer would try to keep his armour more or less allegiance neutral, being the savvy business-dorf that he is.

A Tale of Krås Krüngle

A Holiday Tale from Chamon:

The Kharadron claim that they believe only in the power of the capital and the cunning of a mercantile meritocracy. They tell stories of how their god told them to fend for themselves, and this was the impetus for them to learn grit and self-determination—how they have outgrown the Old Ways and are beholden to no god, creed, or superstition. However this only the official party line.

In the outer rings of the skyports and the below decks of almost any skyvessel of the line, things are different. The old ways persist, and even new stories and myths have emerged as the Age of Chaos turns to the Ages of Sigmar. 

One of these stories is of a Duardin of old—ancient in years beyond counting. One night a year, he visits all the skyports in a single evening and delivers presences to good little dorf of various genders. His name is Krås Krüngle.

As the days grow short and the nights grow long, and as forces of chaos stretch out their evil tendrils to ensnare all that is good in Chamon, Krås Krüngle calls forth the fallen Duardin heroes of yore and leads them on a yearly hunt across the heavens. He and his host bring light to the darkness, spreading goodness and cheer across all the skyports by giving gifts to the younglings. 

While the Geldraad don't like to admit it, the stories are good for business and so they let the "superstition" go....

 

I haven't had much time to paint as of late, but I've been working on this conversion for the last week or so. He's built off a Blood Bowl slayer model with plenty of kit bashing and modeling added. He serves no purpose in any army or list—just a bit of whimsy as the days grow short and the nights grow cold. 

I will be participating in the Analogue Hobbies Challenge from the solstice to the equinox, and as such I'm prepping and priming more than painting at the moment. Expect a deluge of posts here starting late December! Until then, fiction and meta-thoughts as a build and bash models and get them ready for painting! 

Bjorgen's Tale

Bjorgen Thundrik

The titular leader of Thundrik's Profiteers sat in the corner of the tavern nursing a whisky. It was an unusual drink for a Duardin, but then again Bjorgen Thundrik was an unusual Duardin.

Ever since he and his boys had come out of that godforsaken mountain of Beastgrave things had been different. They had gone off to Shadespire in search of treasure and had found themselves separated from their skyvessel and fighting just to stay alive. 

Due to some sort of blasted magic of the place when they did finally emerge, it was in neither Ulgu nor Hysh but out of the living mountain in Ghur. Luckily by then they'd found their ship and were able to fly home with relative ease.

Relative ease is what they thought the rest of their life would be after loading up their with gunhawler with so much treasure it hung low to the ground like a damaged frigate. However, this when they learned that The Code wasn't really all the law their was among the Kharadron. 

Turns out that when you show up with enough riches to destabilize three sky-ports, people get a tad bit miffed at you. All that faux meritocratic bullshit peels off to reveal an all-too-common underbelly of those in power doing whatever they can to maintain control. And so, Bjorgen and the boys were on the outs, even while each could ostensibly buy and sell Brokk Grungsson three times over. 

And so, Bjorgen sat in the corner of the tavern nursing a whisky and nursing a grudge against the whole damn system. The whole blasted thing was a house of lies, and he was beginning to feel like the big bad wolf.