In an offshoot of the tunnels beneath the Lead Mountain, there is a place where the walls drip with mucus, flies buzz, and corpulent little daemons chitter and giggle in the darkness. Here, it is Grandfather Nurgle who holds court. Long days past, the suppurating hordes of the Plague God would shamble out across the tabletop, to greater or lesser effect. In recent years though, the Chuckling Master of Disease has been somewhat neglected, and his minions (those that remain) gather dust, not poxes and agues.
But no longer. A recent attempt to interest the various tiny Scribelings that inhabit the mountain involved a trip to that most contentious of destinations: A Games workshop store. Naturally, the offspring are only mildly interested, but the Scribe was immediately infected. An outbreak of purchasing occurred, (but they don’t count because they are made of plastic?) and here is the first completed example:
A plague marine champion. Like all individual characters, this bloaty fellow came in a clam-pack with optional head, in the apparently now standard ‘flat-pack’ arrangement. The jury is out on whether this is a good or bad thing, as the flat-pack phenomenon, whilst clever, does potentially restrict what can be done with the miniatures. At the very least, it makes conversion work just a tad more complicated (but not impossible). Some slight additions to the standard miniature include the spear/trophy rack and the punch-dagger blade, both of which are parts cadged from a box of Death Rattle Skeleton Warriors garnered in trade, with an orc skull from the ridiculously self-aware/completely oblivious-to-the-irony ‘Skulls‘ box. Crafty scalpel work would probably allow weapon-swaps from other kits (such as the Plague Marine squad box.)
Painting-wise, the champion is mostly a product of controlled washes with various browny/grey/sepia inks over a white undercoat, following a relatively traditional Death Guard colour scheme, with a little (apparently successful) experiment using the new Hexwraith Flame technical paint over a yellow/orange base on the gaseous emission.
Luckily, painting took less than a day, so this stalwart pox-spreader can slide discreetly into the collection without much fuss. However, he was such a joy to paint, that it was only a matter of time before this happened:
Nurgle is pleased. The Widow, less so.