









Almost doneeeeee!
Finished another stump gun! This one is themed for my Feast of Charibdis dudes!
Here they are! In various states of completion before gameday!!
Idea I had using spare bits!
Converted using
Head = Wargames Atlantic Halfling Cavalry
Torso = Marcher Us Infantry
Arms = Krieg
Legs = Solar Auxila Lasrifle Section
​
In a Sodden burrow, deep in the THICK muck and piss of Cyst a large Disgusting TOADlike being has slumbered for nearly a century. But, . . today, this grotesque form begins to stur as the middled conversation two unfortunate is heard from just outside of his hole . . . .
Voice One "Oi, i been thinking about that TOD lad, oi mean e cant really be a frog. . . Can ee?"
[His eyes shoot open, pupils dialated]
Voice Two "smurlm, Dont no, dont cair, just elp me git this sheeeld owt of the muk Idiot sumf"
[His lumpy form slid upward]
Voice One "Oim elping, oi just ope we git to see em, oi mean, do you really think a frog has won awl them battles?"
[His HATRED drove him forward]
**Voice Two "**smurlm, welll the flyer says E will be theerr so yew will see further ourself, sumf"
[His head reached the entrance]
Voice One " yea, oi will, I just ope he looks loik that picture, I mean that is gotta be frog"
As the last word left his mouth, so too had their last breaths. Both of them, gone in an instant, only a small fluttering piece of paper remained where they had once stood. His tongue flys forward snatching the the flyer from the air, briging it before his glistening eyes. As he looks at the crude image of a the frog man his eyes harden with look that could melt steel. He knows now that his life's work is not done, there is still one that draws breath.
Sooooooo this is Général Crapaud, he like, Really hates frogs, like Genocidallly, [literally killed every one over 100 years ago] like HATES frogs. And he is uh back and he is gonna eat Tod, the last Frog. . .
P.s. Man he is gonna be pissed when he finds out Tod has kids. .. . ..
"As a frail boy, child, person, thing, born in the small settlement of Dirtmire he lived a starving squelching life of squallerrrrr. But, one day a wandering band of ragged worshippers stumbled into the settlement. Dragged behind These dregs was a small cart on which sat a Massive, Succulent, Moist Violet Behemoth of a Tuber. The BOY took one look at this and knew that he must DEVOUR IT. He then waited till dark, night, sleepy time and snuck into the nearby field where the congregation now slept. The BOY then fed off of this Holy Purple Potato while its followers slept unaware. As he ate, his body became supple, obtuse, **SWOLEEEE** aged 40 years in a single meal! Taking the last bite as the sun rose the worshippers awoke to see this MONSTER of a man standing before them, his body now bestowed with the gifts of their most HOLY of TUBERS. He then reached his HOLY hands down and fashioned a BOW out of the roots from the holy spud intending to utilize the last remnants, pieces, bits of the TUBER to carry him onward!
Since that fateful day our HERO (Bastien the Bucketheaded) has travelled across Cyst gaining many a follower while looking to . . Do . . . Well something.. . (We really dont know what he is doing) but, he uh, his followers unfortunately are quite. Annoying, loud, stupid, BOTHERSOME. Because of this he has affixed a thick bucket to his head, noggin braincase to drown out their constant pestering!
But yeah, this is my Missle Fodder, or maybe chaff apparently, I use the followers, cart and quivers for his wound markers since he is the only one really doing anything!
Last one of the annoying companions done!
Another wound marker for my "Main Character" (Missile Fodder)
Im making a Unit of Missile Fodder and these are the two units im working on to use as wound markers for the "Main Character"
Here stands TOD in his young glory! Sporting his dashing pencil mustache!. . . . and the uh .. sack his HORRID subordinates keep shoving him into....
Watcha think!?
Here is my first attempt at kitbashing Tod! What do yall think!!