Tales of Mystri Island -- The Giant Ape

The great beast, a roaring maelstrom of black fur and muscle, had Richard cornered, stuck in the fluted trunk of a vast old sycamore fig tree, ducking from one deep hollow to another as the monster pounded its fists against the mossy wood. Left and right Richard went, and the ape followed him, varying its thrusts occasionally in an attempt to catch Richard unawares. Janice watched the scene unfold from downwind, knowing that if the ape tripped Richard up just once, or if its energy reserves were greater than her companion’s, it would be the end of him. Just one blow of those massive fists would certainly kill any man alive.

She stared at the frenzied giant ape down the barrels of her H&H .600 Nitro Express, which she careened left and right to keep time with it. Never in her life had she seen such a huge and terrifying beast, large enough to easily pummel to death even the elephants she had played with as a child, under Stek’s watchful eye. A great hunter and peerless tracker of the African veldt, Stek had raised the orphaned American girl, teaching her the ways of the savannah and jungle, and she had seen everything the Dark Continent had to offer, but nothing to compare with this. Again the barrels swayed -- she could not shoot, the chances were too great that she might hit Richard, crack shot though she was. And waiting for the ape to lurch more to the left or right simply wasn’t good enough. Richard, barely visible in the crevice, was as imperturbable as ever but even his great strength and endurance were clearly being taxed by this deadly game. The ape let out a deep bark of indignation and accelerated its attacks.

Janice laid her finger lightly on the trigger of the great gun and fought the urge to fire out of panic. Fresh in her memory was the concern on Richard’s face just this very morning as he leapt to her aid, saving her at the last moment from being stuck by a bloodworm. She wasn’t about to repay this latest debt by permitting Richard’s body to be smashed and broken.

The ape had evidently had enough of Richard’s evasions. Ceasing its pounding, it eyed the tree for a moment, then began ripping away at the fluted trunk. The time had come – all she needed was a clear shot at the head. She spied Richard draw his Webley, a futile gesture of defiance before death, and he looked at her for just a moment to communicate his understanding that there was nothing to be done. Janice looked down for a moment and saw a twig propped against the nearest tree. She gently shifted her weight, rested her foot upon the twig, looked back down the barrel of the gun, and pressed down with her boot.

The ape heard a distinct snap behind it – a predator? Another invader? Distracted for a moment from the violator it had cornered, the creature swung around to confront this new menace, its mouth agape in a roar, its eyes searching. The great ape had battled many foes in its time, conquering all with a deadly combination of wiles and brawn, its face a web of scars, bearing testament to countless challenges overcome. Whatever this new threat was, it was ready. Or so it thought. For nothing in all its experience could have prepared it for the roar that split its eardrums, the kinetic energy to which its skull was now subjected, like a meteor hurtling into the front of its skull. For a fleeting instant the stunned ape felt a terrible heat on its face, glimpsed a tall slender human artfully absorb the recoil of a huge rifle in the crook of her arm, and then … blankness, evermore.

Janice looked down the smoking barrels of her elephant gun and relaxed. The ape had collapsed in a heap near the base of the great old tree, the top of its head blown clean off, and Richard was already out and retrieving his white pith helmet. He holstered his pistol, tucked his tie back in his collar and said “not the first time that I’ve been grateful indeed for the cannon you lug about, what? I do wish you’d let the Gurkhas carry the blasted thing for you,” he added, faintly disapprovingly. “Can’t imagine how it must weigh on your shoulder.” He straightened his helmet and, looking back at the tree, said quietly, without looking at her, “thanks for that, as usual greatly appreciated.” Janice’s throat was parched but she smiled and faintly nodded.

The birds suddenly stopped their chorus, and the two adventurers froze in place. Forms silently materialized from the canopy of the jungle. There were eight of them this time, scaly with striped patterns, Reptilian Hunters including Janice’s new friend, Stalks-at-Dawn. They quickly surrounded the fallen ape. Stalks-at-Dawn loped over to Janice and looked at the smoking Holland and Holland. “This is great hunting,” he hissed very slowly to her, then, clearly vexed, snapped his jaws three times toward the other Reptilians who were eyeing Richard up rather like a meal. They stood down and returned their expressionless gazes to the corpse of the ape.

Janice knew what a compliment she had just been paid. “May your blood channels be ever wet,” she said respectfully in reply. “The weapon is mighty indeed that can bring down He-Who-Kills.” Janice held the gun out. She was slightly alarmed that she had slain this creature that obviously meant so much to the Reptilians, the only living thing on the island they truly feared. For how often had Stalks-at-Dawn referred obliquely, and with quiet reverence, to “He-Who-Kills,” the ruler of the deepest jungle at the center of the island, a despot who knew no rivals? The Reptilians, it was said, steered his territory a wide berth, and prevented any efforts to explore those nether regions. Stalks-at-Dawn himself (or “Stalkers” as Richard playfully called him) wore an amulet that represented “the fearless heart of He-Who-Kills.” And now, here the mighty one lay crumpled in a pile, slain by her -- a mere human. Janice was eager to put the credit, or the blame, for the kill on the weapon, rather than the shooter.

The Reptilian looked at her quizzically. Communication with them was not always easy, so she pointed to the ape with the heavy rifle and said, loudly and slowly, “only this great weapon allowed me, a human, to slay He-Who-Kills.” All of the Reptilians were looking at her now, and they hissed, popped and cawed at each other for a few moments. Stalks-at-Dawn shook his head back and forth several times in mimicry of what he had seen humans do before. “This,” he said, looking at the fallen giant, “is not He-Who-Kills.”





(The Mystrian Giant Ape is available now from Khurasan Miniatures.)

War in Another Dimension: Species 84





Species 84, so named by Federal scientists because no communications from them have been decipherable to date to determine their name for themselves, are creatures that live in another dimension, and have on occasion travelled to ours as part of their 7,000 year war with the Ti Monhids.

The image shows a Species 84 life form with a ceremonial staff, but in combat the species wears instead a scythe-like glove on its right arm. They appear to human eyes to be reptilian and centaur like, but nothing whatsoever is known of their physiology.

Much more is known about the Ti Monhids, their foes, although these are also mostly unknown in our dimension. The Ti Monhids are an extremely aggressive, imperialist race who made an assault on the realm of Species 84 but got more than they bargained for, as Species 84, an incredibly advanced species, obliterated their invading armies and laid waste to their frontier as a warning. The Ti Monhids, knowing no fear and seeking only war and conquest, redoubled their efforts and launched an all-out research and development effort to find a weapon to defeat Species 84. They eventually bred the creatures known in our dimension as Space Demons.

The war has occasionally spread into our dimension, as the Ti Monhids have attempted to outflank Species 84 using dimension travel. It appears that Species 84 continues to hold the upper hand in this war, but this has not deterred the Ti Monhids from their continued efforts to exterminate Species 84, and the Space Demon hordes have gone a long way toward levelling the playing field. Occasionally Space Demons have gone feral in our dimension, which explains theire presence.

These incursions into our dimension have mostly occurred in the space of the Pelagic Dominate, and when Species 84 enters our dimension to fight the Ti Monhids, Pelagic space is almost always where the battles occur. These titanic struggles lay waste to entire star systems, and Federal Intelligence postulates that this is the reason for the imperialist efforts of the Dominate -- to find new systems to colonize to escape the cataclysmic destruction of the Extra-Dimensional War.

The Ti Monhids are the closest that any species in our dimension have seen to pure evil. No image is shown of them here as it is a violation of Federal law to do so. It is thought by some that these creatures may have occasionally explored our own planet in its early history, which would explain the origin of demon myths, but this is pure conjecture. They are tall and lanky, usually about 2.5 meters tall, of essentially bipedal form, have long slender heads lined with eight unblinking eyes, and wear a body suit that continually changes colour, which includes a small cannon growing out of its back, elevated atop a rod, which swivels to fire in all directions, freeing the hands of the Ti Monhid to engage in hand to hand combat, at which they excel.

Both Species 84 and the Ti Monhis have incredible strength and apparently are considerably denser than creatures found in this dimension making them incredibly hard to kill and making armour unnecessary (their garments sometimes appear to be armour like, but seem to be mostly decorative or to show rank). Most frightening is their ability to freely engage in extra-vehicular activity in the void of space, which causes them no harm and can be endured by them indefinitely. This possibly explains the mysterious toughness, and resistance to a void, that the Space Demons themselves show.

Space Demons instinctively obey every wish of the Ti Monhids, which, like all communication by them, is conveyed telepathically. The Ti Monhids, and even more so Species 84, are capable of using telepathy in sustained attacks, and these are especially deadly to vertebrates of our dimension. Federal scientists and intelligence officers have found a way to retrieve Ti Monhid communications, and to some extent to decipher it, which has been the source of much of our knowledge of the species and the Extra-Dimensional War. Efforts to control Space Demons using simulated telepathy have to date been unsuccessful.

15mm scale models of the Ti Monhids are completed and will be available first. Species 84 will be available later this year.

Tales of Mystri Island -- The Savannah Lords

A massive Savannah Lord on his Wooly Rhinoceros mount.

Entry of November 11, 1917: The most physically imposing of all the thinking beings of Mystri Island are the Savannah Lords, huge creatures that appear to be a mixture of human and crocodilian. They are so called by the human population of the island because they rule the savannah without question, riding across it mounted on the huge Wooly Rhinos they import from the south of the island, the only trainable creature that is strong, fast and aggressive enough for their taste. On the single instance when I observed them standing erect (for they seem forever to be riding atop their mounts), I noted that the Savannah Lords are clearly over seven feet tall. One such creature must easily weigh 28 stone.

Living in villages near the great Mystri River, which cuts through the savannah, these beings are exclusively carnivorous and conduct no farming of their own. They dwell in huts built very close to the river, with channels cut into it which run into the huts so that they may wallow in muddy water as they devour their prey and plan out their next hunt. Around the village are built sturdy pens for the rhinos, where those creatures graze, clearly unhappy to be in such a warm clime. The health of the rhinos does not seem to be affected by the heat, but they do not breed on the savannah, requiring that the Lords purchase the rhinos from the barbarians to the south, which I presume happens by means of intermediaries.

The Savannah Lords are the senior members of the alliance which the people of the island call the Herpetile Confederation -- this includes the Reptilian Hunters, and the mysterious beings that live in the swampiest parts of the Island called the Salamen. Like the armies of old England, these Herpetile forces are composed of knights, foot soldiers and archers, the Savannah Lords supplying their mounted shock force, the Reptilian Hunters the combat infantry, and the Salamen the archers, as well, apparently, as fleet mounted forces; Miss Prishwalken and I have yet to encounter these last creatures so I do not know their method of archery (except that poisons are employed) or the beasts on which some few apparently ride. Stalks-at-Dawn, the Reptilian befriended by Miss P., tells her that the Salamen are smaller even than the Reptilians, but this, as I have learned, is no indication of the danger Mystrian creatures pose.

We are reassured by Stalks-at-Dawn that the Savannah Lords see humans as nothing but prey, and the German agents on the island would find nothing but death to greet them here. As dissemblance is utterly alien to the Reptilian Hunters, I am enormously reassured and grateful to hear this from his mouth, as such gargantua, properly armed and trained in the methods of war, would make formidable foes indeed.

Four months after our arrival, we accompanied a battalion of the Parayan Dictator Lopez's forces as they attempted to make a short excursion across the savannah, in order to outflank a battle line of his foes the Argentians. Despite being armed with muskets, and being accompanied by a cannon (both of which however were, I should point out, exceedingly antique, being at least fifty years old), the dictator's loincloth-clad troops, generally the picture of bravery, were clearly nervous. Fortunately for us, as the march column was about to move out onto the savannah Stalks-at-Dawn appeared from the jungle and restrained Miss P. from leaving the cover of the trees, and as the Gurkhas and I were not about to go on without her, the battalion marched out without us.

What to our wondering eyes did appear from behind a stand of trees but over a hundred of these towering beasts, galloping across the savannah, lowered lances thick as saplings, moving at great speed in absolute silence but for the thunder of their mounts' feet. (It is clear that these creatures are cunning, for they waited for the humans to advance far enough onto the savannah so that escape would not be possible.) The Parayans began shouting and formed a line, then issued several volleys, but these seemed to bounce off the thick hide of the Savannah Lords, and only few of the mounts were struck. The cannon, deployed quickly and skillfully, got off one cannister of grapeshot, killing several attackers, before it, as well as the rest of the battalion, were struck by this tidal wave of scale, muscle and horn, and seemed to be driven into the very earth itself. Fascinated and horrified, we turned to thank our savior but he had disappeared. We watched as the triumphant beasts pounded the few survivors with enormous mallets, which easily weighed five stone, then gathered up as many of the corpses as they could drape over several now-riderless mounts and upon their own beasts, and rode slowly off, over the horizon of the vast grassland, presumably to feast upon this new bounty of human flesh. -- RS-G

(The 15mm Savannah Lords should be released this week. They are very large crocodilian knights riding charging wooly rhinos. They will be released in two packs, one with six riders (three different poses), six rhinos (in two poses) and six savannah lances, another with one commander, one rhino and a replacement totem for a lancer to be converted to a standard bearer. Despite their size, they have been sculpted to fit on bases with a depth of 30mm, in compliance with the basing requirements of most popular 15mm gaming systems.)

The Biology of Sepulveda 7: Part 10, the Space Demons (continued)

Note: this article examines the biology of the Space Demon because these at one point infested Sepulveda 7 after the defeat of the Pelagic invasion. Its publication is not meant to imply that the Space Demon is part of Sepulveda 7’s current fauna or that the eradication programme on that planet was not satisfactorily completed. Models of the Space Demon Colossus, and Nymphs, are available now on the Khurasan Miniatures website.

Due to its enormous size, the Space Demon Colossus (top) is an exception to the rule of Space Demon propagation; the Nymph (below left), and the resulting Assault Warrior (below right), are the norm.

The Space Demon breeds parasitically. Even in the heat of battle, the female of the species, the Queen, can within ten minutes create from her essence and give live birth to a Nymph, which resembles a slightly foreshortened version of a fully grown creature’s head with four sharp, articulated scythes for legs. Assuming she is provided with the flesh of enough victims, or hunts them down herself, she can create and give birth to as many as 100 Nymphs in a day.

From the moment they are born Nymphs skitter about seeking a host, preferably a biped like a human, and once one is found the Nymph will repeatedly and strenuously attempt to hop onto the host’s head. Once up on the host’s head, huge jaws on its belly suddenly gape and entirely swallow the host’s head so that the host appears to have the Nymph for a head, which, sadly, from this point on it indeed does. The cerebro-positor of the Nymph will immediately burrow through the victim’s skull and deep into the brain, wresting away the higher functions of the host’s body. The host’s brain is kept alive and fully functioning to control the body’s lower functions. This is a continually agonizing experience and the host can be heard screaming inside the body of the Nymph, leading some human populations to term Space Demon Hosts as “Screamers” or “Howlers.” Removal of the Nymph is absolutely impossible – its scythe legs burrow deep into the chest cavity of the host and quickly bond with its skeleton, and even if these are cut off the removal of the cerebro-positor from the host’s brain kills the host.

Over a period of approximately a week, the host’s genetic system goes into a furious acceleration and its cells are rapidly replaced by space demon cells (called “imperial” cells), branching down from the neck to the arms, chest, and finally legs. During this time the host is far from helpless and, under the complete control of the Nymph, can be quite a dangerous adversary, running and swinging its arms wildly, without the restraint that fear of self-injury usually brings. This puts the human trooper in the unnerving position of being assaulted by what was is effectively a talking human corpse, which begs for help while simultaneously pummelling him. Fortunately the Nymph does not know how to work machinery so Hosts are unable to use weaponry.

Eventually the process of assimilation is over and another fully formed space demon joins the hive, all of the cells of the host being replaced by space demon cells. All Nymphs are born as juvenile Assault Warriors, but, based on the needs of the hive, a queen may inject additional genetic material into a host’s belly to lead to the development of one of the higher sub-species of Space Demons.

It has been observed that Space Demons often populate their hives with Nymphs, the adult demons ranging far and wide looking for hosts which are then brought back to the hive to be infected. Also wandering the tunnels of the hive are often large numbers of wailing Hosts in various stages of transformation.

When a planet is heavily infested with Space Demons, queens will begin periodically laying eggs, a method of breeding associated only with the Colossus. These eggs are extremely large and a queen can only lay one in a day. This egg is laid in a deep chamber in the ground which has been dug by the Tunneller Space Demons, and hatches as a larva, a sort of armoured worm that is two meters long at birth and grows geometrically. The other Space Demons will gather live victims for the larva to eat, which are thrown screaming into the underground chamber to be devoured. Soon the entire chamber is filled with the expanding body of the larva, which cocoons and soon emerges, digging itself from the ground, as a tripodal Colossus, most terrible of all Space Demon creatures.

Striding rapidly across the planet’s surface no matter what the terrain, seemingly always in balance atop its three legs, the agile Colossus has many methods of attack. It can impale smaller prey with great dexterity using its razor-sharp legs, flicking a wounded victim off toward other space demons so that the injured creature’s body can become a host for a Nymph. It also bombards more powerful prey, and especially mechanical weapons systems, with its most potent weapon, the void cannon, from which pulses an extremely powerful blast which few targets can survive. Time and space seem to buckle and warp immediately before the void cannon is discharged. Jutting permanently from the creature’s outer mouth, its extensor jaws serve as the barrel of this terrible weapon, but are tipped with two enormous teeth which can flex open and shut, ripping the thickest armour to pieces. Even Federal L-HACs treat these jaws with great respect and strive to avoid the bite of the Colossus.

But the Colossus has one more weapon in its arsenal. Before a great hunt, the Colossus will lower itself and a dozen nymphs will scurry up its legs, then into the nymph-nodes on either side of the Colossus’s head. The Colossus can shoot these nymphs out of the nymph-nodes to fair distances toward enemy infantry formations, the nymphs hitting the ground running, attempting to swallow the heads of nearby prey. For human defenders, this is usually the most terrifying aspect of the Colossus -- its ability to insert the dreaded Nymphs directly in such close proximity.

The Colossus can walk with its legs extended so that it can attain great height, but is often seen in combat with its three legs bent, which puts it closer to man-sized prey and is a more stable platform from which to fire the void cannon.

Molokon Rattler

From Lambda Sagittarii come the Molokons, imperialist synthetic organisms bent of destruction of all organic life. When the great Molokon Spheres materialize in a star system, it is doomed.

The Molokons will not communicate or negotiate, they will simply begin operations to reduce the planets to their constituent silicon, then engineer these silicon globes in a way that is not well understood but results in the planets becoming part of an interstellar "lattice" conducting the Molokon Network.

How the Molokons came to be is unknown; perhaps some civilization constructed a set of forerunner synths and these seized power, or perhaps they took to fending for themselves after the creator race became extinct one way or another.

What is known from monitoring Molokon chatter is that they never discuss their creators. They care only for themselves, and expanding their network until is encompasses all of space. While Molokons speak in a monotonous drone, it is abundantly clear that they possess the synth equivalent of emotions, speaking at great length of the rich enjoyment of causing pain and destruction to organic life.

The rank and file warrior unit of the Molokons is the centaur-like Rattler, a large robot as tall as a human and considerably heavier. Each mounts a photon cannon used to pitilessly eliminate all resistance on the planet so that the great fabricator ships can process the planet. Scrabbling at the feet of the enormous Journeymen and supported from the air by the Mayfly gunships, the Rattlers move methodically across the surface of the planet, mercilessly exterminating all life forms that offer resistance. Their name comes from the unnerving rattling sound that thousands of Molybdenum talons make as they propel the Rattlers onward at speed.

Mike Broadbent has created the 15mm Rattler model, which has six legs which plug into holes along the main chassis of the unit, as well as a gun torso and head, which like the legs is posable. As can be seen from the photo below, there's some flexibility in the models -- for instance, simply remove the hatchet head of the Rattler and its whole look changes to something much more arachnoid. These are also quite suitable as sentry robots or similar for 28mm gaming.

The Molokon Rattlers should be available in a few weeks. They will be followed by their giant land monitor, the Journeyman, as well as the long slender missile craft, the Mayfly.

Sir Yes Sir

L-HAC 42R-4 receives orders from his Lieutenant.

The heavy land asset of the Federal Marine Corp. is the Legged Heavy Assault Cyborg, or L-HAC, pronounced "el-hack." An 11-metre tall chassis made of stabilized osmium, the L-HAC has the brain and spinal column of a deceased Marine veteran installed permanently in a life support chamber deep in the citadel of its chassis. To qualify for installation, during his full-body lifetime the marine is required to have given at least 20 years of continuous and meritorious service, to have been cited for outstanding performance at least 10 times, and to have undergone stringent mental examination to establish his emotional stability and eliminate candidates with any tendencies toward megalomania. Marine volunteers who meet all these qualifications and sign a waiver may be installed if they have suffered bodily injury too great to continue to function as a full-body serviceman but possess a sufficiently-intact brain and spinal column for installation, provided of course that an L-HAC chassis is available.

The L-HAC's main armament is a naval rifle usually mounted in the turret of an interstellar battleship

L-HACS are, to the extent possible, deployed in support of the regiment in which they served as a full-body asset; although the identity of the former full-body is supposedly kept a secret, marines who served alongside the installed veteran will admit off the record that they quickly recognize echos of the full-body's personality in the behavior of the titanic machine.

On very rare occasions an L-HAC is temporarily assigned to a regiment from the one in which he served as a full-body, or even another division, but this is generally an expediency dictated by combat losses. The L-HAC is immediately transfered back to his old unit when a replacement is available.

One remarkable exception was L-HAC 42R-4, a Royal Marines L-HAC of 42 Commando posted temporarily with the 1st Battalion ("Timberwolf") of the 2nd Marines during the Third Pelagic War on Sepulveda 7. The 2nd, like most Marine Divisions, was heavily composed of men from the FUSA (Former United States of America), but heavy losses required that a Royal Marines L-HAC (designated with an "R" after their first numeral designation) be posted to the 1st Battalion, which had lost all of its L-HACs in combat. At first received reluctantly (to put it mildly), this L-HAC was eventually held in such esteem by Timberwolf Battalion after the final battles on Sepulveda that a virtual mutiny broke out when its redeployment orders were digi-commed into Division HQ. As a special and one-time exception, L-HAC 42R-4, or "Tommy" as he was called by the Timberwolves, was thereafter permanently attached to the 1st Battalion. When asked why they were so fond of this L-HAC, one lieutenant said, "it's hard to say. There are lots of little differences in this particular unit, of course. But those little peculiarities grew on us, and he is good -- he saved our lives so many times, we figured that he belonged with us. He seems to agree; he's happy to be with Timberwolf Battalion. We went through a lot together, after all."

The main weapons system of the L-HAC is the Weintraub AstroSystems Battlemaster 30cm Naval Rifle, a fleet-grade teleport cannon, so called because such weapons operate by teleporting selected portions of their targets where designated by the gunner. To illustrate, a targeted swarm of space demons can be teleported into the center of a mountain or into the void of space, either of which naturally constitutes a kill. A large target such as a tank or structure will have a targeted portion, such as a turret, teleported away from the remainder, thereby rendering it out of action. The L-HAC has some choice in the matter on the destination of teleportation, L-HAC 42R-4 apparently being fond of teleporting targets 200 metres into the air, or teleporting groups of enemy infantry into other groups of enemy infantry, thereby achieving a KIA on both groups. Battlemaster Naval Rifles are extremely potent weapons most often seen in the turrets of battleships of the Federal Navy, and this armament permits the L-HAC to engage enemy fleet assets in orbit around the planet.

Blurry photo of the business end of the Weintraub Astrosystems Battlemaster Naval Rifle.

The L-HAC also has a large claw hand for manipulation or close assault if necessary, and mounted on this are double 40mm gatling guns. It possesses sophisticated communications arrays and can use the Battlemaster for non-weapons purposes as well, teleporting individual persons or small objects in a non-lethal transport capacity, but this is more time-consuming a task and only rarely done on the battlefield.

In addition to its weaponry, the L-HAC can also serve as a Medevac unit, an extensible antigrav stretcher being mounted on the bottom of its left arm which is capable of lifting an injured person with great care and inserting him into one of three Medevac stasis chambers in the chest of the L-HAC, temporarily halting any deterioration in the medical condition of the patient until he can be transported to a field hospital.

A look at the Medevac stretcher generally tucked under the left arm of the L-HAC.

The L-HAC model was prototyped by Mark Mondragon, printed by Moddler and cast by Valiant Enterprises. It's quite posable and you can put the model into hundreds of different positions, as I've hopefully demonstrated with this model. The legs are however only of limited posability, a choice we made to keep the model stable. The legs and feet are made of white metal for stability -- though leaning far over, this model is standing up by itself. Standing at its full height it is over 10 cm (4") tall so it will make an imposing tabletop presence even for 28mm gamers -- for that matter, even for 40mm gamers!

Apparently having travelled through some time portal, the L-HAC enjoys listening to Minnie Apliss, one of our 1970s pulp 28mm figures.

I thought that, rather than make another tank as the heavy unit for the Federal Marines, I'd make something in human shape, to represent the Federation of Man in his future triumphs and follies in space. He's a tribute to all of those people who, once we've lost them, become somehow even more powerful in our lives. It's wishful thinking, but it's nice to think that they can come back and continue to be there for us, loyally helping us out, after we think they are gone forever. The model is being production cast now by Valiant and should be available in a few weeks, after it gets painted up for display -- though it's huge so I'm a little afraid of what the painting fee will be!

The Biology of Sepulveda 7: Part 11, the Chewks

The Chewks are currently being sculpted to recreate the appearance of these desert nomads in the Sepulveda 7 campaign. Wandering the equatorial deserts in their immense underground drillships, they will attack any who enter their domain, seeking tribute for passage, or simply taking what they wish from those who dare upset the great stillness of the desert.

These are the first of two teams of Chewkgunners. (This team is a WIP.) The Chewkgun is the main infantry arm of the Chewks, a machinegun cognate which sprays the enemy with deadly fusion balls at a high rate of fire. This has a particularly lethal effect on armoured targets, who lose their armour advantage to the fusion ammunition of all Chewk weaponry.

Like most indigenous life forms on Sepulveda 7, the chewks are xenocrustaceans. Quite small by human measure, the Chewks have "the heart of the Sponk beating within their bodies," as the saying goes amongst the human population. Standing roughly four feet tall (so 12mm tall in 15mm scale), the Chewks cannot shoulder weapons as large as can humans, but it is of little matter, for they have developed a round of ammo to penetrate the hard shells possessed by so many of the creatures on Sepulveda 7, and this fusion ammunition levels the playing field. Even the rifle of the infantrychewk fires a fusion round, although it must be loaded into the muzzle and then detonated by a bolt-action mechanism in the breech.

The chewk is undeniably at a disadvantge in close combat with a human, but to some extent it makes up for this due to its hard shell and sharp pincers, and irritating failure to be intimidated by any creature or any weapon. Nonetheless, it is in close combat that the Chewks are most often defeated, and when obviously bested they will at times simply leap upon the sand and burrow in, escaping with startling rapidity unless tightly grasped. This same uncanny sandburrowing ability is of enormous assistance to them when they are under bombardment.

We are making 29 unique sculptures to represent the Chewks:

1. four infantrychewks shooting
2. four infantrychewks advancing
3. four infantrychewks prone
4. four chewkzookas (2 x 2 personal antitank rocket crews)
5. four chewkgunners (2 x 2 chewkgun crews)
6. four chewkbombers (2 x 2 chewkbomb (mortar) crews)
7. three chewkannoneers (1 x 3 chewkannon (field gun) crew, plus one chewkamel beast of burden to haul the chewkannon -- the chewkamel is essentially a huge sandflea)
8. two chewkommanders

We will, if the Chewks are sufficiently popular, make the mighty drillship itself, at least the portion of it emerging from the sand, the cannonbay doors open, a drill-mounted chewkannon firing from atop its cherrypicker-like arm. Also open will be the exit portals from which the Chewks pour to raid their unsuspecting targets.

Coming, hopefully, in Spring of 2010. Sculpted by "clibinarium."