The Oldhammer Dwarf Army Part 4 - Pies, Spam Pies, and Logistics

 “Who is in command here!?” Elodain picked his way gingerly through the prostrate dwarfs, lifting up the hem of his long white tunic and his red silk cloak clear of the mud and detritus in the fist of his left hand. 

“If you don’t shut that hole under your delicate little nose elf, I will use a particularly blunt spoon to remove the soft, dangly collection of objects between your legs and stuff them down your slim little throat.” a deep voice muttered.

Longjonssen growled, before turning onto his side, belching loudly and spitting out a small amount of vomit onto the ground next to him.  

Elodain wretched slightly himself and lifted the hand holding up his garment to cover his nose and mouth. He reached across his body with his other hand to the place where his rapier would usually be clipped to his belt.

“Zis time of ze morning iz not ze most sensingables time of ze day to be looking for ze Dux.”

Amongst the hungover and sleeping dwarfs only one was in any state of alertness. Elodain noted the rich quality of the cloth of the dwarf’s clothes, and the well-cut ruffles of his blouse and pantaloons. His tsarouochia were of high quality, black leather Elodain observed, and the toes were particularly ostentatiously pointed. The elf approved.

The dwarf did not look up to pay the elf a reciprocal degree of scrutiny, he was sat on a blanket roll and was frying salt pork and sliced sausage in a small skillet at the edge of a crackling fire. The dwarf ran his free hand through what appeared to be an immaculate black beard, and after an aggressive rummage pulled out a chunk of mouldy cheese which he dropped into the greasy pan.

“Eet iz always ze most difficultz of zings, knowing exactly ven iz ze best time to first bozzer ze Dux zis early in ze day.”
Elodain looked up at the sky, although it was cloudy – he calculated that it would soon be midday. 

The well-dressed dwarf pulled out a hip flask from his cummerbund and poured a clear liquid into the skillet which immediately exploded into a burst of blue and orange flame. 
“Ze cereal liquor.” The dwarf smiled, before finally looking up at the partially terrified elf messenger. “Turns ze simple breakfast into ze breakfast of champions, one can tire of ale for breakfast every day you know.”

The dwarf used a curved dagger to greedily stuff a chunk of charred pork fat into his mouth as Elodain found the courage to quietly speak.

“My Lords Yewtree and Orchard wish to know where your loyalties…er…or at least the intentions of your throng lie. The great War of the Flowers may now finally be over. Will you support the peace and accept the new rulers of Little Abion…or…er…at least not actively oppose them with overt violent opposition?” Elodain stepped back with a small squeal as a beefy mastiff plodded in-between them with a large piece of well-turned wood in his mouth.

“Listen elf,” the dwarf paused as he stopped chewing and pulled a long black hair out of his mouth, “Listen…I do not ave ze official command, I am Captain Pantzov Nutzdowic, trusted lootennant of my lord the Dux Bellendum’s throng.” The dwarf took a long swig from his hip flask and his eyes began to water “Or…az you pansie Little Albion Elves say it…Lyuefftennant”.

The mastiff dropped the piece of wood in front of Pantzov and in one motion the dwarf picked it up and threw it what seemed to Elodain to be an impossibly long distance, where it landed with a boggy splat. The mastiff bounded happily after it.

“Ve az no interest in your silly little florist conflict, ve az a greater mission zan zat, do you zink ve vould come to zis God-forsaken Island in zis time ov ze demon Breakshit? Ze time of ze Nigel Garbage? Ve are ere on a zacred mission. Zis mission I cannot explain to ze likes of you. But you can trust me az much az a dwarf and an elf have ever been able to trust each uzzer…ve ave no interest in ze partisan stupidity and complexity ov your zilly little skwabblez.”

The dwarf gestured with a nod to a grubby tent to his right which until now Elodain had assumed was drying laundry.

“Arzur Pantdragon, Ze Dux Bellendum iz my King. And my vords are iz vords – it iz just that my Lord cannot usually speak for himself until ze sun is on itz vay downz…leave uz be, and ve vill leave you be. Lest we get the smell of flowerz on our viskers.”

Elodain bowed, “Thank you captain, leftenant…Nutzdowic. I will pass on your wise…”
The elf was interrupted by a loud growling noise from within the tent. Followed by a loud bellow.

“SPANKY! WHAT THE LIVING £U<&% ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?”

A muscular pony staggered out of the tent and trotted twenty or so yards before stopping to lap thirstily from what looked to Elodain to be an open latrine. From within the tent came the loudest and longest, flatulent outburst that Elodain had ever heard…or even heard about in an ancient legend.

“Grrrrr….better out than in…”

A dwarf stumbled out of the tent, naked apart from a kettle helm crookedly balanced on his head. He unsteadily made his way to the open fire and began to urinate. The campfire went up in flames like it had just been sprayed with incendiary accelerant. Both Nutzdowic and the naked dwarf instinctively jerked back their heads from the fireball.

“Thank the ancestors I wasn’t on the hard stuff last night eh Captain Pantzov?”

Arthur Pantdragon staggered back into his tent without even acknowledging the elf messenger’s existence.

Elodain began to walk slowly backwards, carefully picking each step between the slowly stirring dwarfs until he was clear of the camp. He slipped silently past a sleeping picket to the point where he had left his beautiful grey steed tied to a silver birch.

In the distance he could hear the mastiff barking, and then the sound of the dwarf who had first addressed him in camp bellowing:

“HAS ANYONE SEEN MY FUCKING WOODEN LEG!??”

ARTHUR PANTDRAGON

The Dux Bellendum “Arthursus Pantdragon” is the (usually inebriated) commander of my dwarf expeditionary force. It was once described by the Emperor Karl Something of somewhere as a “Contemptible little…really little, short army.”

Adopting the ancient title “Dux Bellendum” which in the ancient language of the savage Albion dwarf tribes kind of, sort of means “Duke of dying well in battles”. It is possible that the name “Pantdragon" links him to the ancient dwarf royal family the “Pendragons” – indeed a company of the Dragon Royal Guard fights in his throng – but it is also equally possible that Arthursus has made this up.

The name Arthursus  comes from the word “bear” in both the ancient Albion language “Arth” and in ancient Tilean “Ursus”. The nickname “bear” comes from the Dux’s notorious “bear with sore head” hangovers which are so violent that troops under his command prefer to ensure he has a near constant supply of ale to ensure that he is rarely – if ever – sober.

Arthursus and his throng (including the legendary Ser Lotzoflance and the Knights of the Rune Table) are searching the ancient land of Albion for a magical drinking vessel known as the “Gral”. Legend has it that any dwarf drinking from the Gral is blessed with everlasting ale. Thus the Gral is known to all dwarfs as “The Holy Ale”.

This model I was lucky enough to get from Lord Bood. I think with the modifications it is a one-off model but obviously based on the Bood Miniatures “drunken dwarf on pony” (You can buy this great range here).

Mrs Street originally wanted a dwarf she could have on her desk at work and for a time this is where Arthursus lived…on a laptop workstation in the office of a Staines-based pharma company. But this was before she realised that she prefers evil things like Chaos and Dark Elves (thanks Darkblade) – and before the office cleaner damaged him about fifty times while dusting him despite her pleading via post it notes not to do so. Mrs Street claimed she wanted this dwarf because it reminded her of me. Which is libellous nonsense to be honest.

The Dux has a fairly standard paintjob and will doubtless be superseded as general as soon as I have a more regal general painted up – in which case I will add him to the Knights of the Rune Table. The unicorn shield is a plastic marauder one.

Spanky the war-pony was painted in oils and the “glass bottle” was painted and then gloss varnished in the same way you might paint a gem. The “terracotta” vessel is painted with Foundry flesh shade paint with a shit load of Tamiya “flat base” mixed in.

Arthur has some special rules for drunkenness or sobriety which involves him either being subject to stupidity or to frenzy and animosity. 

PANTZOV NUTZDOWIC

Pantzov Nutdowic is obviously Lastro Lupital from the Dwarf Lords of Legend set.

Pantzov is a legendary dwarf mercenary from the frozen mountains of Kislev in the far east of the Old World. He is employed by Arthursus as a bodyguard, however due to the Dux’s typical inebriated state – he is usually the de facto leader of the throng, making the majority of the tactical battlefield decisions.

Veni, vidi, Vicious rumours persist that Pantzov really seeks the Holy Ale for his own ends and that when the Dux finally finds the Gral he intends to murder him and escape with his prize. Others say that Pantzov is the only living dwarf to have witnessed proof of Arthursus’ true heritage and destiny – when a young Arthursus pulled a drinking vessel from a large rock – thus fulfilling the ancient “Gourd in the Stone” prophecy.

For reasons I’m not quite sure of I kept my original paint-job on Pantzov. I’ve done a lot of stripping and repainting over the last 8 years or so but I kept him as is. Just gave him a more modern base. I don't think he looks too bad, he might just need a bit of toning down beard-wise. 

The musician below was originally painted for the Raven company, hence his mainly yellow and red colour scheme (although the blue sash kind of dominates the model). He will probably eventually take his place back in the original unit and the guy with the French Horn style instrument will probably end up in a clansmen unit.

WAGONS ROLL

Outside of the command figures I really wanted some logistical troops. I love a wagon me – and having some supply troops often gives you and extra angle when you want to play scenarios or just to give an opponent an objective in an uneven game. 

I had this wagon knocking about for years. I believe it is by a company called Hinchcliffe which are currently sold by a company called Hinds Models. I can’t find the exact model on their site but they do a lovely range of ECW / Renaissance and Medieval equipment. It was missing the horses but I happened to have a couple of Essex draft horses which fitted in fine. I used the Bugman’s beer cart driver (I hated that stupid high seat) and used some bitz box stuff for the “load” which was again from Hinchcliffe as well as some Battleforge stuff.

I converted the beer cart a little by cutting a couple of bits of basswood to the right width and extending the “seat” of the cart a little so I could fit the adventurer with map and his rather large backpack onto the cart. I liked the idea of the driver being lost and will eventually add some detail to the map. He was needed for the first battle of “Sheepy Hollow” so I rather rushed him out without the map detail!

I thought that the colour of the wagon (Vallejo “blue-grey”) went fairly well with the Bugman’s livery and had a kind of British Napoleonic artillery finish to it.

PACK ANIMALS

When I was a kid in the early to mid-eighties I used to holiday a lot in Hayling Island just outside Portsmouth. My Grandad had been a Royal Marine based in Portsmouth and served as a Commando in several commando units (40, 42 and 44 I think) in WW2, Malaya and Korea. As such my family had close links to Portsmouth and my Grandparents bought a Holiday home on Hayling Island near there in the late 1970s.

My dad worked from 16 years old to retirement for BOAC and then British Airways, and as a family we could literally have flown anywhere, anytime on his very, very generous concessions. However, my mum is a very nervous flyer with a 3-hour limit to flight time. As such, we spent a lot of time holidaying in the UK and the first three weeks of the school summer holidays were usually spent on the South Coast.

Not that I minded one bit. The young me got to spend long days running around the battlements of Arundel castle; running from Viking ghosts through the thousand year-old Yews at Kingley Vale; climbing over massive cannon on the 1860s Portsdown Hill forts; picnicking on the grass of Porchester Castle beneath the Roman and later Norman walls; sailing out to Spitbank, one of the Solent forts out in the sea or marvelling as my Grandad took me over modern warships and submarines at “Navy Days”. Every time there was a diorama or painting of Royal Marines he would point out a chap and tell me that was him. “You see that redcoat at Bunker Hill? That’s me, and that’s Ginger Evans next to me…”

One year the weather was dreadful. Aberdeen in summer dreadful. And we’d visited just about everywhere indoors over the first two weeks that we could possibly visit. My brother and I begged my Grandad to take us out, and while my gran and my mum stayed at home sulking about the rain and sleet my dad and my Grandad drove us to Southsea and “Old Portsmouth”. 

Back in the 80s parts of the docks were very much still hard-drinking, “vibrant” and with the odd “working girl” thrown in. These days it’s all chain restaurants and oyster bars. We sat outside one of my Grandad’s old haunts on the docks huddled under an umbrella (myself and my brother were not allowed inside the pub) loving every minute drinking Canada Dry Cola as my Grandad told us war stories about that time they discouraged “Cornish Alf” from playing his guitar in Alexandria by putting “Scarab Spiders” (I think that these are “Camel Spiders”) in the soundhole.

My dad had bought us two magazines, “Military Modelling” and of course White Dwarf, I don’t remember which, but one of them contained a classified ad for Southsea Models (now Southsea Models and Games – I believe it is still there). We necked our Cola lunch and begged to be taken there. After much searching for a parking meter on Albert Road we were granted our wish.

The store was (and apparently still is) an Aladdin’s Cave of gaming and modelling porn. My father – I think a little upset at being isolated from his hobby for two weeks – bought us both the Adventurers Starter Set, the Monsters Starter Set and a Citadel Paint set. They were  £4.95 each and we used our pocket money to buy some cheap brushes and a couple of additional paints.

That night was the best of the holiday as we huddled under the poor light in the kitchen painting our new toys!

I’m incredibly happy to say that I still have a few of those models. One of which is the pack mule which I simply had to paint up for my dwarf wagon train. A fairly basic paint job I’m sure you’ll agree but I love this sculpt and am very happy with him.

I also painted up this pack-pony at the same time. He’s from gripping beast and a LBM decal fitted the kite shield perfectly.

Next up will be a much shorter and less rambling post regarding the fledgling artillery battery.

Thanks for staying awake for the duration. You are much loved.