As many of you will know from the Middlehammer group, and/or the 2020 Legacy Project launch post, this year we combined the Middlehammer Legacy Project with our Orctober celebrations. When we heard the sad news of the loss of one of the community in Mikael Igge Holmberg we decided to make this year's Orctober Legacy Project a memorial to Igge, a kind and generous hobbyist who will be sadly missed :)
Obviously 2020 has posed some serious challenges, and I'm enormously grateful to my fellow participants for still finding time to come together for this. We had a few returning veterans, and their support was central in making the project a reality again this year. Thank you.
We also had a few first timers, including one who joined the group solely to take part in the memorial project which was a lovely gesture indeed, and my son ,who insisted on contributing one of his own models/paint jobs. Hats off also to Aistis Petruškevičius, our only international participant this year and whose encouragement and support along the way was much appreciated.
The theme for the project was obviously 'Orctober' and anything Orc and Goblin-esque was welcome. The colour scheme was Orange, (Green), and Black in honour of Igge, but beyond that it was down to personal style and interpretation, and then some artistic license on my part in bringing it all together.... so lets see what we all came up with! :D
Gorrit Stumpa - Ork Runtherd - Tom Young
Gorrit Stumpa, personal Runtherd and Squig-stylist to Warboss Mikk 'Squiggy' Holmbork, had a reputation as a super cheerful ork, who loved nothing more than herding up rare
juicysquigs from the depths of the drops, and adding to his impressive
collection of hairsquigs. In his spare time he can be found grooming his
hairsquigs (for lustchur) and training up the next generation of attakk
snotlings.
His happy demure is usually accounted for by the large number of fungus
spores he imbibes on his foraging trips., and his leg was eaten as a
tasty snack by a squigshark, which in turn found itself carved up and
used as bait to catch his only squiggoth - for which he gained a certain
amount of fame and a considerable amount of high quality teef.
The riches he gained have fed his need to discover ever more rare and
unusual squigs, and he can be found wandering between different ork
tribes in search of his next big find.
No wonder then that Warboss Squiggy chose Gorrit as the one to scout this remote feral back water to gather more greenskins for his armies, giving him the keys to his battered old Space-Transit and the promise of a nice shiny toof for every new 'recruit', willing or otherwise.
Currently he's gathering together a rag-tag
bunch of feral orcs looking to get off this Old-world and join a greater Waaaaagh - the
opportunities of which cannot go unheeded!
Profile:
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Equipment: Flak Armour, Chain Sword, Grabba Stick, Bionik Leg
Bodjit and Scarpa - Goblin Wolf Rider - Paul McWhirter
"SKREEEEE!"
Cried Bodjit as he leaned out for the strike, Scarpa his wolf mount not
slowing her pace for a moment. He loved the speed of chasing game
through the woods, not as good as running down prey that could scream a
bit and make it more interesting, but the speed was still good.
SCHLOCK!
His spear neatly skewered another musk rat to add to the two already he'd already kebabed.
"Good
work girl!" Scarpa crowed as he patted the wolf's flanks and steered
her back towards there makeshift camp. "We'll get you chasing manlings
again soon enough."
Suddenly, Scarpa's head cam eup and she sniffed the air, letting out a strange mix of warning and fear sounds.
"What's
that girl? Bigg Boss Snaggit has fallen down a well and needs our help?
Fat chance!" Bodjit chukled cruelly to himself, as he readied his spear
for whatever had got Scarpa so worried...
Suddenly the trees
ahead parted with a great splintering crash, and a strange roaring noise
filled the air along with billowing clouds of foul smelling black
smoke, as something big rose into the air and flew towards them.
"Well,
I've gone and found that Dwarven warmachine we were looking for!"
thought Bodjit to himself as he turned Scarpa and tried to outrun the
onrushing danger.
The giant thing flew overhead, smashing through the tree tops, spitting blue white fire and belching clouds of acrid fumes.
"Or
is it a Dragon!?" thought Bodjit, panic starting to set in as Scarpa
zigged and zagged through the storm of smoke and splinters.
The
giant flying thing came to hover over the crafty Goblin scout and his
fierce wolf, forcing them to cringe and crouch low as a huge down
draught pushed them into the
ground. Bodjit risked a glance up, shielding his eyes against the gale,
he saw a spinning circle of multi coloured lights moving down towards
him.
"Oh no!"cried Bodjit "It's even worse than that!
It's bloody Elves!" Scarpa whined pitifully next to him as the spinning
lights descended and the tummult intensified...
"Oh fer Mork's sake... You'll have to do I spose.... Come on then, get on. We haven't got all day!"
Bodjit
looked up at a very strange looking Orc with brightly coloured clothing
and equipment, standing in what appeared to be some sort of big metal
cave.
"Or shall I leave fer dem tricksy "Elves" to get yers? the
Orc checukcled to himself and turned around, beckoning to the Goblin
over his shoulder.
Needless to say neither Bodjit nor Scaarpa liked the sound of that, so they followed the strange Orc inside his cave...
Big
Boss Snaggit was still cursing him for a useless skunk weasel of a
scout when they flew over the tribe, currently being ambushed by a
squadron of Dwarven Gyrocopters, but Bodjit wouldn't have cared. This metal Dragon thing had speed like you wouldn't believe, and he was going to see the stars!
"Just a few more to pick up first." Remarked the old ork doing the flying "Ding Ding! All aboard Gorrit's fun bus!"
Profile:
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Equipment: Light Armour, Shield, Spear, Hand Weapons
Riding Scarpa da Wolf
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Gorrit's verdict: "If he can hang on to a wolf, he can hang on to a Warbike or wotever. Fresh Grots is always needed in da Kult of Speed."
Targ ‘Ardbone da Trezhur’anta - Aistis Petruškevičius
Targ ‘Ardbone is a ferocious fighter and a good duelist. When outmatched he heavily relies on his ‘trezhurz’ claimed inside the ruined city of Mordheim to win. He comes from the nomadic and highly individualistic Spike’Ead tribe. The tribe is famous for its dueling culture – almost every greenskin in this tribe wears a spiky haircut – one spike is earned for each victory in a duel and one spike is ripped out for each loss. Rules of growing or removing these head-spikes aren’t exactly set in stone – some kunnin’ and sneaky orcs choose to risk hammering razor-sharp blades into their skulls instead of forming them out of hair – such metal spikes are ‘bitin’ back’ when gripped and can help to finish the fight real quick if it comes to ‘ead buttin’. The more brutal orcs on the other hand don’t bother with ripping the spikes out and just use a trusty choppa instead, even if sometimes the vanquished orc loses not only his spike, but also his head as a result. Because of these traditions of deadly infighting the tribe is both quite small and poor so when the time comes to raid, Mordheim is often chosen. The ruined city is almost an orc dream come true – not only can you break someone’s jaw at around almost every corner, there’s also ‘da green shiny rocks’ you can loot – Shamans really value those. Targ is a proper bruiser and has more spikes than he can count. He joins these raids because he knows that “ye won’t get into much scrappin’ if ye don’t go lookin’ for it y’self”. Scrappin’ also the only way to get more ‘trezhurz’ after all...This latest Shaman was a funny one though, and Targ wasn't sure about the gleam in the eye of his mischievous little Grot assistant. They'd thrown the green rocks straight into this furnace type thing in the side of their portable metal cave thing. Sheer madness!
"Yer payment's inside!" smiled the brighty coloured 'Shaman' called Gorrit. The little grot next to him smiled shiftly and bobbed his head in agreement. "Yeah, dats right, inside!" it squeaked.
Targ wasn't sure about this metal cave the Shaman had, but the inside smelled of fungus brew and wolf piss, so that all seemed legit. Targ took a swig of his brew from his lucky mug and gripped his big bone mallit stepped inside the cave to collect his payment...
Profile:
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Special rules:
Da Mystik Mallit (counts as a mace): Femur ripped out of the leg of a possessed. A mighty yet tricksy weapon – can snitch victory out of the jaws of defeat. Can also snitch teeth out of the jaws of Targ. Targ may Re-roll a failed Hit roll made with Da Mystik Mallet. On an unmodified Re-roll result of 1, Da Mystik Mallet hits Targ instead.
Lucky Stunty Mug: The Stunty wasn’t exactly lucky, but Targ surely was and now his fungus beer tastes much better. Once per battle Targ may take a swig out of his Lucky Stunty Mug and re-roll a failed Leadership Test.
Animosity: “Oi! Didya think I won’t hear dat, ya runt? Imma rip yer spikez out!” Standard orc animosity rules apply.
Gorrit's verdict: "He's a right big Nob and no mistake. Get him some big spiky armour and he'll be right at home in da scrum."
Gorm the dugeon dwelling albino Orc boy - Stewart Young:
Gorm
always knew he was different, the others in his clan had made that
clear when they kicked him out. But he didn't need them, he would find a
new family and when he did well... then his old clan would be sorry!
Gorm had been kicking a skaven skull down the dungeon corridor when he heard the commotion off near the squig pens. He supposed he should go and have a look, except it was almost knocking off time...
No, if Warlord Ulag found he'd been derelect in is duty and let some fraggin adventurers waltz in and rescue Sir Ragnar, well... his life wouldn't be worth living. He'd best just have a quick look to be sure it wasn't anything too...
The dungeon door swung open to reveal two Orcs and a shifty looking Goblin he didn't recognise with their arms full of Ulags prized moustache squigs. The extra curly ones too!
"Now now lad, no need to do anything hasty!" smiled the old orc with the bright blue hair squig.
Gorm went to raise his bone whistle to his mouth to sound the alarm and...
BONK!
"Good work Targ! You even managed not to smash yer own teef out dis time. Now, help me get 'im in the back of the van."
Profile:
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Equipment: Light Armour, Sword,
Gorrit's verdict: "Front line infantry. Somebody give 'im a shoota!"
Joro the Spear Orc - John Robbin
Joro had always had a talent for marching whilst asleep. He had no idea how he ended up on the big
sky boat, but orders is orders and the Orc with the grabby stick currently seemed to be the one giving them.
This squig brew is good. Joro wonders if anyone will notice if he just
has a little nap while leaning up against his spear?
Profile:
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Equipment: Light Armour, Shield, Spear
Special Rules:
Very sleepy: LD:
10 (too asleep to be bothered with Per-sy-kology) and 1+1 wounds. The
first time you wound him you only wake him up. Unless he takes more than one wound in a round, he'll fight on for one
more round before realising he's dead.
Gorrit's verdict: "Perfick front line infantry - follows orders even while asleep. Get in the back of the van."
Grumpit and Bob - 'Father & Son' Orc Arrer boys - Paul (40) and Tom (8) McWhirter
Come on son, I didn't smash all your Grandad's teef out to buy you dat bow just for you to end up as front line infantry!"
"Oww! It jabbed me finger!"
"Dats coz the arrer goes in the bow the uvver way round you dingus! That's it, right now pulls it back to yer jowls, and...."
TWANG! Flop.
"Aww, Dad! I'll never be no good at dis "arch-errr-eee" biz. Can't I jus' hit fings wiv a club?" whined the young Orc, in the universal language of lazy offspring.
"Now Bob, we talked about dis. You come from a proud line of Arrer Boys. We is Iron Claw Orcs from da Iron Rock." said Grumpit, pointing to his chest with his thumb. "Not some feral slags like dem Brooken Toofs over da river."
THRUMMM.... Thunk!
The older Orc drew back on his bow and let a crudely made arrow fly into a tree stump some distance away.
"Much better to be a fe ranks back shootin stuff fer a bit before everyorc piles in fer da big kicking at the end. Leave the dyin' at the start to the to the Goblins and dem savage boys who don't know no better"
"But Dad, I'm 'sposed to meet Thragg and Guffball to go Grot bashin' soon!"
"No son, your stayin' ere wiv me until you've done a 'undred more shots, and then, later, if you eat all of your Squig stew! ... you can go out clubbin' wiv yer mates. But stay away from dem shady Shamans sellin dem dodgy mushrooms!"
Profile for both:
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Equipment: Light Armour, Bows, Hand Weapons
Gorrit's verdict: "Front line infantry - somebody give 'em a shoota and get 'em in the back of the van."
Kazhbak
- Goblin Boss - David Musgrave
"Oi, get back 'ere u bleederz" Kazbakh bellowed, cracking the whip again "stop zogging' runnin' away!" Legging it after his charges, he cursed again under his breath "'Play a key role' he said, 'lead from de front' he said" as they scattered across the battlefield. "Me 'n 'im are gonna have wordz, bloody warboss". Banners waving, drums beating, the orc horde advanced - massed, if unruly, ranks of warriors; a core of massively built & armoured black orcs, marching under a dragon skull standard; the grunting, smelly, boar riders - and their mounts; a mob of goblin wolf boyz looking for things to burn, steal or run away from. "'Command a legion' he said, 'hav' 'undreds of followerz'" - "didn't say they woz snotlings did he! Bastard!"
Profile:
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Equipment: Light Armour, Sword and Whip
Gorrit's verdict: "I've always wanted me own Gretchin Champion to help out with the excess Runtherding, and he's already got experience wiv Snotlings. P'raps he can help out if that mutant Troll fingy comes back and we canz trap it dis time?"
Orcberg
and Eggi - Chester Mike
Orcberg Iron'ed was once a fearsome Black Orc Warboss whose tribe terrorised the lands between Barak-Varr and Tilea until the day he decided to have a bite to eat during a bitter struggle with a tribe of Night Goblins. The bite to eat was unfortunately a Night Goblin Shaman.
Normally, the worst that would happen from this rather poor choice of hors d'oeuvre would be excessive flatulence or perhaps some mild indigestion. However, in this particular case the Shaman in question had just scoffed down a whole bag of particularly luminescent psychoactive mushrooms foraged from the deepest recesses of the Night Goblin's cave stronghold.
Orcberg's mind was shattered by the overdose of hallucinogenic fungus that flooded his system and he descended into a frenzied state. As he hewed, cleaved and hacked at anybody that came within reach the other Orcs knew that he had been chosen by Gork or Mork. However, they did need a way to control him until his berserk rage could be put to best use.
They came up with the idea of throwing a Goblin on to Orcberg's back, from where it could scramble up on to the shoulders of the burly Orc and guide him in a particular direction. Eggi the Goblin, formerly Orcberg's personal lackey and all-round toady, is the current rider and he takes great enjoyment from controlling such a powerful Orc in a fight.
Profile:
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Equipment: A big axe and a sharp knife
Special Rules: Orcberg & Igge follow all the rules for Night Goblin Fanatics, with the following amendments: 1. Orcberg & Igge are set up on the tabletop as normal. They are not hidden in a regiment as is the case with regular Fanatics. 2. When rolling the scatter dice the Orc player may choose to either move the model in the direction the arrow points or in the exact opposite direcion. Igge has at least some measure of control over Orcberg's movement. 3. If a double is rolled when moving Orcberg & Igge, Orcberg is not slain but KO'd. His consttution is far greater than a weedyGoblin cave dweller. Leave the model on its side (or use a marker is you prefer). In subsequent terms a further double means that Orcberg has regained consciousness and will immediately move half the distance rolled on the dice (rounding up). If Orcberg is KO'd at the end of the game then full victory points are awarded to the opponent as if the model were slain. Whilst KO'd Orcberg & Igge cannot be targeted or attacked in any way and can be moved through and over as if it was open terrain.
Gorrit's verdict: "I see a lot of potential here once the Meks and Painboys get finished wiv 'em. Dey's gonna be absolute fraggin carnage on the battlefield. See if you can get that little grot to steer the big one in the back of the van without takin' off me port nascelles"
El' Jefe and Jamon - Savage Orc Boar Boy Big Boss - Geoff Solomon-Simms
Geoff says: This model (not this actual one) was the first metal miniature I ever
bought and he led the orcs in my heroquest set... I had rules for
fitting a boar down dungeon tunnels!
The steaming, teeming, jungles of Lustria were normally alive with the sound of life but the sudden arrival of the metal dragon, breathing noxious black smoke, and flashing green lightning, had brought a strange, temporary silence in the wake of its crash landing.
"For frags sake Targ, that Warpstone stuff has got some kick to it!" exclaimed Gorrit as he kicked open one of the buckled doors on the back of 'The Van'. "I reckon the Mekboys and Warpheads would blow the universe to Gork and Mork with some of that! We should try and get 'em some more before we leave.
The rest of the gang piled out the back of the van into the clearing made by it's impact. Within seconds orcish nature had taken hold and animosity set in and a fight broke out. Gorrit decided to let it play out. They'd been couped up inside for long enough and needed to get it out of their system before the long haul back.
"Errr... boss?" ventured Kazbakh, his new assistant "should the trees be shaking like that?" he said pointing at the scorched and burning undergrowth directly behind the brawling mob of boys."And can you smell bacon?"
Suddenly the brush parted and a fearsome looking savage Orc warrior astride a rampaging warboar with it's rear end trailing smoke charged directly through the pack, scattering orc boys in all directions, continuing its charge up the ramp and on into the back of the van, smashing straight into the last barrel of Squig brew sloshing the contents over the interior, and coming to rest in a tangle of wires and cargo netting.
"That's a shame. Gonna be an even longer journey now with no booze" muttered Gorrit to a chorus of groans and complaints from his new charges.
"Ah well, at least it put the fire out. Come on. Chop, chop! Play times over, everyone back in the van and we'll be off."
Profile:
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Equipment: Shield, Hand Weapon
Riding Jamon the Warboar
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Special Rules:
Charge! El' Jefe can order Jamon to charge through the enemy using the vehicle collison rules in Warhammer 40k 2nd Edition (models touched by the charge must test under the I or be hit), with the S value of the hit being equal to half the number of inches moved in the charge.
Gorrit's verdict: "Well he's got Snake Bite written all over him, 'asn't he? In between the actual snake bites that is. He'll do fine. Boar could do with some armour of course... and some wheels."
And with that, Gorrit and his bunch of misfits left the Old World for a new future with the Warboss Mikk 'Squiggy' Holmbork and the great Waaaargggghhhh amongst the stars...
Wrapping up:
Massive thanks to those who took part in the Middlehammer Legacy project this year, and to those who supported in other ways. 2020 has been a hell of a time and it has been heartening to see the community come together again to celebrate in our own small way and to mark the passing of a member of the community.
The prize draw will take place very shortly and will be posted on the Middlehammer facebook page. I'll then get in tocuh with the lucky winner and arrange postage
It's always a joy seeng other people's work, and a privelege to have them on my shelf for a while and think about how their stories tie together. I hope I've done your efforts justice!
I hope you will join me in one last toast for Igge and to celebrate another Legacy Project completed :)
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Look at that beard! RIP Igge, from the Middlehammer community |
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