More Hellhounds on Your Trail...

"Three days ago, there were sounds of horns and unholy wailing, a baying of unnatural voices across the river.  The watches kept a sharp eye all night, straining their eyes and ears eastward into the gloom.  Two mornings ago, the remains of six woodcutters were found in their camp, four miles to the north and east of Plum Creek, and it was thought by the marks upon their poor, mangled flesh, that the Mad Hunt had returned.  The Rangers of the Nordmark followed their grisly spoor north and West, then North and east again.  The Hunt came nigh to The Tower of the Moon, but perhaps not liking the sight of it's high walls of stout logs, and the arrows and bolts which came forth in abundance, they made away still further north and east.  

 The Rangers and Sheriffs of the Nordmark were gathered and in swift pursuit now, and with them rode the Margrave of the Nordmark and a number of his knights, squires and retainers.   Some miles to the North, near the border of the Mark, the pursuers came upon the heads of Giovanni Brindicci, and his young son Nicoli, torn from their bodies and set neatly, side by side, upon a fallen tree trunk.  The bodies could not be found.   A hunter and trapper who had emigrated to our country from his native Tilea, Brindicci was a common sight in our own Mittelmark, and his songs and jests will be missed in the marketplace at the Refnsburg.  Brindicci was well known to the Rangers, and so hot was their hatred for the Mad Hunt now, that they did not stop, but packed the heads for later burial and rode on well ahead of the Sheriffs and the Margrave's men. 



 












At the extreme northern boundaries of the Mark, The Hunt, perhaps discouraged by the slim pickings to be had and the swelling host now in pursuit of them, turned back toward the river, and as they turned, the Rangers caught the rear-most of them, and killed two thugs and a Beastman pack master with arrows.  The slain mutant's horrid charges ran wild, some plunging with the rest of The Hunt into the river and making for the eastern shore, some going for the Rangers.  Those valiant men let go their horses and clambered up into the tree- branches, and from there rained shearing casks down on the vile beasts until, wounded, they made off, howling in ghastly voices, following the shore for a time.  The Rangers ultimately harried two of the wounded and maddened things into a deep ravine, where they killed them with fire, bows, and hurled stones.  

And, except for the sad interment of eight stout men of the Nordmark, there was an end of it.  Before they burned the bodies of the beasts, The Rangers sent for me, deeming that, as The Baron's sage, I might desire to examine their hideous specimens.  I was grateful for the opportunity, and hurried North to meet them at the bloody ravine, arriving this very morning.  As I have said, there were two of the things.  The smaller of the two was not dissimilar to an ordinary mastiff in shape, but much larger, and of such an evil countenance that it chills me to recall it.  It had no hair, and its veins and muscles were part exposed, here and there, not through wounds, but by some unclean mutation which caused the thing's skin to seem to have melted away over part of its body, leaving its inner workings for all the unhappy world to see.

The other was much larger, and so badly mutated, it was hardly recognizable as having ever been canine at all.  Its front quarters were more like to a lion than a dog, and all over its shoulders and upper back were great humps or bubbles of flesh and hide.  It was clear that two of these humps had been the authors of the dog-thing's extra heads, one of which was goat-like, but such a hound and horrid black devil-goat as a clean mind could never imagine.  The other, and I quail as I write this, was much like to that of a man, with a great, black bristling beard and shock of hair, and pale white eyes, blind, or so it seemed to me from where I stood.  I much wished to climb down into the ravine, and with my knife, see what those other humps might contain, but Captain Brand restrained me, and though I was displeased by his concern at the time, I think I should perhaps be grateful to him for it now.  The unclean things were covered with pitch and brushwood and set ablaze, and the east-blowing breeze carried their ashes out over the broad dark river.  I was pleased to see them burn, yet the flames cannot scourge the image of the things from my mind, and I fear that their awful footfalls shall shadow my dreams for some time to come..."

                                                                                              From Olorrin's Journal

 ***

Well, about a year after having started this little games journal, I am pleased to see several projects very near to being completed.  One is my Dwarf army...I had hoped to get to 2,000 points with it in a year's time, and I'm nearly there...just a few crossbows left to get painted.  Another goal was to complete The Mad Hunt of Chaos project.  Happily, I've four out of five units of the hunt completed...just one hound pack and the Master of the Hunt to go...Think I'll finish this summer?

Citadel Hounds are much rarer in this pack than in the others...only two...the others are a Grenadier Chimera, Hound of Tinadalos  (these paint up so beautifully...I love them!) and a Cerebus, also by Grenadier.  On the right is an old Ral Partha Therapsid which I dolled up with some gonzo green stuff conversions...

 The Reptilian Beastman handler is a Denizen of  the classic old Grenadier Demons box set...Can't remember what they called him...but I like him...

 All Eighteen hounds and their handlers assembled together...scary, no?  One more pack to go!

 Here's the green stuff on the Therapsid...I think it actually looks scarier this way than it does with the paint job...


And there's more Hell Hounds still to come...