Karak Norn Clansman
Vassal
A couple of Oldhammer style entries are to be found among a great field in general at Chaos Dwarfs Online's Artisan's Contest XXXI.
The Chaos Dwarfs clubbing giant piece is by Andy Atom Taylor, a great inkwork artist. His entry won gold! Check out his Oldhammer page here.
The giant stomp doodle is by me.
The Taunter and the Giant, by Uhr-Kulmbizharr
Once upon a time, there was a foul-mouthed heathen of a man, gesturing ill signs with his hands and waggling his tongue in a stream of obscene curses and insults that made maidens blush and bull charioteers shy away from his path. So many people did he casually offend, that hundreds upon hundreds of kinsmen, neighbours and strangers harboured grudges toward him and his endless affronts.
One day, the taunter did his wartime duty and served in the infantry. Mace and shield did he carry, and from a distance did he heap scorn and libel upon the greenskinned foe. The battle swung back and forth with all the Chaos of combat, and at one low pulse of the armed clash, the taunter filled his lungs with dusty air and let out such a torrent of foul language upon the Orcs and Goblins, that his own kinsmen recoiled from him.
So vile were the taunter’s flood of swearing and impiety, that the Father of Darkness silently reminded all the other Chaos Dwarfs of all the times the taunter had insulted them and their clan’s honour.
With these grudges fresh in mind, everyone but the taunter saw the enemy Giant approaching, and yet no one said a word of warning, even as the ground shook harder and harder from its heavy tread.
“May the damn Thunderbull stampede over your blasted carcass!” yelled the taunter. “Can you feel the bloody quake in the flaming deep? That is the Bull Father copulating with His shackled harem heifers, and you’re next in line for the rutting, maggots!”
Thus the taunter was caught up in the gleeful joy of slinging his own foul words at others, and grudges were settled as no kinsman raised their voice to warn him of the descending foot. And so the Giant stomped the taunter flat into the ground, and smeared his gory remains across the battlefield like a run-over Snotling. For such is the fate of those who cannot hold their tongue.
- The Taunter and the Giant, by Daemonsmith Uhr-Kulmbizharr the Blind, the renowned Chaos Dwarf author of fable stories during the foundation of Zharr-Naggrund
The Chaos Dwarfs clubbing giant piece is by Andy Atom Taylor, a great inkwork artist. His entry won gold! Check out his Oldhammer page here.
The giant stomp doodle is by me.
The Taunter and the Giant, by Uhr-Kulmbizharr
Once upon a time, there was a foul-mouthed heathen of a man, gesturing ill signs with his hands and waggling his tongue in a stream of obscene curses and insults that made maidens blush and bull charioteers shy away from his path. So many people did he casually offend, that hundreds upon hundreds of kinsmen, neighbours and strangers harboured grudges toward him and his endless affronts.
One day, the taunter did his wartime duty and served in the infantry. Mace and shield did he carry, and from a distance did he heap scorn and libel upon the greenskinned foe. The battle swung back and forth with all the Chaos of combat, and at one low pulse of the armed clash, the taunter filled his lungs with dusty air and let out such a torrent of foul language upon the Orcs and Goblins, that his own kinsmen recoiled from him.
So vile were the taunter’s flood of swearing and impiety, that the Father of Darkness silently reminded all the other Chaos Dwarfs of all the times the taunter had insulted them and their clan’s honour.
With these grudges fresh in mind, everyone but the taunter saw the enemy Giant approaching, and yet no one said a word of warning, even as the ground shook harder and harder from its heavy tread.
“May the damn Thunderbull stampede over your blasted carcass!” yelled the taunter. “Can you feel the bloody quake in the flaming deep? That is the Bull Father copulating with His shackled harem heifers, and you’re next in line for the rutting, maggots!”
Thus the taunter was caught up in the gleeful joy of slinging his own foul words at others, and grudges were settled as no kinsman raised their voice to warn him of the descending foot. And so the Giant stomped the taunter flat into the ground, and smeared his gory remains across the battlefield like a run-over Snotling. For such is the fate of those who cannot hold their tongue.
- The Taunter and the Giant, by Daemonsmith Uhr-Kulmbizharr the Blind, the renowned Chaos Dwarf author of fable stories during the foundation of Zharr-Naggrund
