Hello all you fellow Empire generals out there. I've been slowly working on a Stirland themed army, but now that I've gotten a few pieces put together and some concept ideas. I thought I would introduce you all to the Pale Company - A group of grizzly well worn troops that guard the eastern boarder between Stirland and Sylvania. Their reputation of gruesome severity to root out all Vampires, cults, and other dark monsters. Lead by the self proclaimed High priest of Morr, Father Durrin, and joined by Gilgad of light (much to his displeasure) the Pale Company patrols night and day ever vigilance.
Images/updates of the models can be viewed here:
http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,51377.0.htmlAnd some fluff to catch your attention (I hope).
On the eastern boarder between Stirland and Sylvania a group of grizzly well worn troops despised by all, but needed by most. Their reputation of gruesome severity to root out all Vampires, cults, and other dark monsters. Lead by the self proclaimed High priest of Morr, York Durrin, and joined by Gilgad of light (much to his displeasure) the Pale Company patrols night and day ever vigilance.
Gilgad stared out over the endless misted moors. Nights cold embrace still clinging to the shadows in the early dawn light. Looking to the cloud covered sky Gilgad scowled in discontent, it was already turning out to be a dismal day. Up ahead just off the road Gilgad spotted the regiments leader, Father Durrin. The stout man sat unmoving on his massive shaggy horse that Gilgad swore must be part bear. Gilgad had had a horse when he was first assigned to the regiment, I pure white one with fur like silk, Dawnlight he had called him. He was dead now, killed by a varghulf in an ambush. With supplies stretched to the limit, Gilgad had yet to procure another horse. For now he marched along with the 13th Cohort, a bunch of brigands and filth that should all be locked in the stockades not armed and allowed to roam freely. Although, looking out at the bleak mist cover hills, Gilgad supposed being stationed here was a sort of prison. With another sign Gilgad rejoined the thin gray line of troops marching on the road.
“Looks like another gray day.” Captain Barrik muttered galloping up next to Father Durrin his right arm clenched tightly on the armies standard. Father Durrin merely grunted in reply shifting his bear’s cloak. Captain Berrik paused for moment waiting to see if Farther Durrin would say anything else, he didn’t. Captain Barrik sighed, when he had first joined the Pale Company he had been fresh from the academy, bright eyed and bushy tailed. That had been almost four years ago now. He had graduated with high honors top of his class his pick of military posts, and where had he picked? The eastern boarder, and why? Because he thought it would be exciting. He had been such a naïve little twat. When he had told Father Durrin of why he picked this posting he had bellowed such a laugh, Captain Barrik was afraid he would wake up the dead. To his credit Father Durrin had been strait with him, telling him exactly what the Pale Company did, endless marching in damp cold conditions. And when they did fight, they where usually fighting for their lives against some undead horde or a warband of either orcs or beastmen. His first few months had been the worst, no one in the regiment respected him, often whispering behind his back and although no one called it to his face Captain Barrik the ninny was his given title. The bushy tailed Captain Barrik the ninny had died in their first encounter, a beastmen raiding party trying to sneak across the boarder near the Hunger Woods. The battle had been short and decisive; the enemy had been vanquished before the cannons had even been unhitched from the horses. Captain Barrik, being the armies’ standard-bearer, road next to Father Durrin and the Sacred Scythe Knights right into the thick of the enemy. After the battle Father Durrin had said that the Captain Barrik had fought with such grim determination that from then on he would be known as Captain Barrik the Grim. The men had taken to it like rum, afterwards everyone in the regiment recognized him as one of their own, a long lost brother late to the party, but welcomed. A grunt from Father Durrin, brought Captain Barrik from his memories.
“The ravens fly today.” Father Durrin grunted his voice like stones grinding past one another.
“Is that a bad thing?” Captain Barrik asked.
“It means trouble.” Father Durrin replied looking over at Captain Barrik with a wide grin. Captain Barrik had seen that grin before, every time they encountered the undead. He still didn’t know why, but Father Durrin HATED the undead far more then any other Morr priest Captain Barrik had met. Every time they faced an undead horde Father Durrin’s eyes gleamed with pleasure. If Father Durrin said they were to encounter undead, then they were going to encounter undead.
“I’ll prepare the men.”
Comments and questions welcome.
Best,
Anubis