Dark Lands: Fünf neue Modelle
Mierce Miniatures, die vor einigen Wochen die Lizenz der Banelegions-Modelle übernommen und diese in Dark Lands umbenannt haben, zeigen vier neue und ein überarbeitetes Modell.
A nightmarish Brute of horn and bone and muscle, an emphatic answer to the question of whether the Ysian fleshsmiths are as insane as many believe, Nung is a living hulk of meat goaded into battle by his masters. Once human, once sane, the depraved acts performed upon Nung’s body has deformed both his form and his nature, to the point where the agony of his transformations and the raging fury within dominates all else; and in brutal combat, the smell of blood and gore drives him to ever greater feats of strength and endurance, his crazed mind ignoring the blows of the feeble blades and claws laid upon him, for the destiny of Nung’s foes is obliteration under the crushing force of his mighty stone mattock and the healing brought through digesting their bodies.
The Srónax, horned man-beasts of immense strength and unyielding might, hold a unique place in the armies of Baalor for their savagery is the equal of all but the most powerful creatures and bestial warriors set against them – and even then, Ucquraan knows, there will be more Srónax than they, more brutal horned ones of cold Thule to bring to bear should they be needed. For whilst it may seem that the Srónax are scarce and thus a threat that can be ignored, the truth is that only a few of them are needed to sow havoc in the hosts of their enemies as each and every one of these brutes is born for war, their temperament and their sinews well suited for the carnage to be found in the battle-line, the savage glory of slaughter and death.
The Dyndraig that lend their brutal blades to Cadwaladr, the famous Red Dragon of Teyrnas Gwynedd, are mighty allies indeed. Their numbers may be limited but the strength in their limbs and the unquenchable fire in their hearts ensures the Dyndraig are rightly feared by the enemies of the Brythoniaid, enemies who once thought, perhaps, that dragon-kind was finished. Naegannwg and his fire-standard demonstrates otherwise, for where a White Banner of Gwaelod is raised the Dyndraig stand with it and the dragons themselves are not far away, for all dragon-kind rise from the fires of the west and the bonds of kinship are yet strong for them all. It is Naegannwg’s honour – as a Tândyndraig – that he may call the greatest of them to battle, Dyndraig and Cawrdraig and even Draig, and whilst the immeasurable power of the other dragon-kin may be claimed elsewhere the Dyndraig, of course, will always answer that call if there is breath in their lungs.
More so even than Ophios, the Gorgór Sthena desires retribution upon the Atalantes, bloody and terrible vengeance for the crimes they committed upon herself and those of her kindred, but there are also those within the Khthones that should not rest easy in their sleep. Sthena may have been in thrall to the whims of the cruel patricians and the despicable lords of Atalantia, but those whims took many forms and not all were enacted merely to gratify themselves; for the pleasure-slaves were used also by the Khthones – sometimes for amusement, sometimes for reward – as they, too, have desires of the flesh, like all living things. Ophios may wish that all Khthones unite against the Atalantes and others to found a civilisation of their own, and Sthena may publicly agree, but in truth she cares little for the future of her kin and pursues her own course of vengeance, a vengeance that includes almost as many Khthones as her former masters.
It is foolhardy to assume that the Gorgonares, and their implacable lord, the Gorgon known as Ophios, are in any way a spent force. Yet there are still some who believe so. Their lands, as all learned men know, have all but disappeared; their civilisation, it is true, may now be marked only by vengeance and fury; their continued existence an anachrony, an evolutionary path that the earth has long since abandoned and wishes had devolved ages past. Yet still they trouble the Atalantians, and others, with their devastating raids, their spite, their sheer brutality. Ophios himself, in his more lucid moments, knows that the more they seek retribution the quicker they will destroy themselves – but equally, to him and his Gorgonares, there is simply no other path they can tread, no other way they wish to live. The followers of the Sun took their lives away from them; then they destroyed the lands they had promised. Ophios knew nothing but slavery and pain before their betrayal. Now he knows nothing but vengeance.
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