Hello Everyone! 

Here’s the progress i have made with Bjorn the Fell-Handed. This time i have been painting some freehands to make his armor a bit more interesting, and a bit less empty :)

After 9 weeks of work on this diorama, this commission is getting close to the finish line :) Just 4 more days left for painting, and then - Golden Demon!

Context: Our party is helping a djin take over a small kingdom of two warmongering families during a wedding. At one point, the families challenge eachother to a duel, loser becomes the winner’s slaves.

Before the actuall duel, there was a warmup fight, three teams of two. The two families and us, the guests.

No one can use weapons or armor.

Our elf ranger managed to throw a man to the ground, but was dragged down himself.

DM: “So you’re on the ground and he attempts to punch you *rolls* but misses, it’s your turn now, what would you like to do?”

Ranger: “Pocket sand!”

DM: “What?”

Ranger: “I throw pocketsand in his eyes!”

DM: “…the things I put up with. Roll for dexterity, to see how quick you are.”

Ranger: *rolls* “I got 23!”

DM: *also rolls* “*sigh* Okay, so as you are about to throw the sand in his face, he takes a breath and gets it in this eyes and throat. You’ve critically blinded him. You’re sure 95% of the audience are booing, but can hear one man screaming ‘Yeah! That’s the best fighting I’ve seen.’”

Ranger: “That lifts my spirit. :)”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the arena.

 Our Human Monk, a Drunken Master, has been fighting two enemies at the same time, and had been knocked to the ground.

DM: “You’re lying on the ground and one of the fighters pulls out a hidden dagger and… *rolls* falls to the ground. Everyone goes silent before cheering. You hear some saying “That guy must be quick, I didn’t even see him move!”

Monk: “I’m too drunk to know what’s going on.”

You know what’s REALLY unnerving about Ares? Everybody expects Ares to be Ludendorff. And why wouldn’t they? Ludendorff is a violent, warmongering antagonist that wanted to prolong the war. Why wouldn’t he be the god of war himself?

But no. It turns out, Ludendorff was just a human. A totally normal human being with flaws and temptations. Just a human. So who is Ares?

Turns out the god of war was hiding as the person advocating for peace the whole time. He talked about peace for the whole second act, but was interrupted time and time again by men who are unwilling to listen. He was the one fighting for peace. He was the one who gave Diana and gang the money to send them to the front lines.

What makes him such a good villain is that he brings out the worst in humanity. He wasn’t the direct cause of the war, he was only there to fan the flames. He even tried to douse it to some extent as Sir Patrick, but the fire grows stronger. He knows that it is human nature to fight. He was only there to encourage that instinct. If you think about it, the true villain of the Wonder Woman movie isn’t Ares, but humanity itself.


Hello Everyone!

I have finished Gabriel Angelos, Chapter Master of the Blood Ravens :) This time in Terminator armor.

In this piece, I wanted to show the difference in painting red’s. I have painted Gabriel’s armor the same way i have painted the previous version on a bike (i have added metallic paints to the armor). Then i have deliberately added another red mini (Khorne), and red blood, to show his red armor painted in more classic way - without metallic’s.

Hopefully the difference in textures is visible, and You will like the end result!

Take care and see You soon :)

Humans are Weird-Death

Hey guys, so I wanted to add to the humans are weird thing that’s going around, and this kinda came to me in the shower, so…enjoy?

Zah Rem was dying. They knew it the moment the Ra-Sek corridors of the station began to feel cold. It had been easy to dismiss the chill at first. The Humans always kept the main corridors to a barely tolerable 24 degrees Celcius, the Terran unit of heat. So Zah Rem had kept to Ra-Sek corridors, content to survey the movement of their officers from the comfort of warmer areas.

But then they had Stopped in the Ra-Sek sustenance area. The area was used infrequently as most of the new officers preferred to communal sustenance area, and so some time had passed before a Terran ensign accidentally stumbled across them. The human had run to get help, and that’s how Zah Rem found themself in the infirmary, a heat unit glowing above their bed as machines monitored every pulse of their internal fire.

To the Ra-Set, the Cooling was a very private matter. It was some small mercy really- a natural death for a Ra-Sek happened over the course of only days, and after the initial passing ceremony the Ra-Sek left the dying in peace to contemplate their life. At least, that’s how it had been before.

A human, mouth closed in a Ra-Sek neutral expression, sat at the end of their bed, eyes occasionally flicking between the machines and their pad. This one was the human counterpart of Zah Rems previous station and they knew this one well. She would not be leaving unless the dying process miraculously reversed. Humans always seemed to treat this like a logical possibility.

Zah Rem had lived such a long time, even for a Ra-Sek. They had seen the rise of space travel for their people, the first contacts with other races, some friendly, some hostile. They had seen stars flicker out of existence. And then, they had seen the arrival of Terrans. What a ludicrous, terrifying thing that had been.

The humans had arrived in strange, nonsensical machines seemingly only barely capable of long distance space travel. Most of them had arrived asleep. The Ra-Sek had initially been very wary of this smaller race. Humans could regulate their own body temperatures. Humans lived short lives but took life-threatening risks, seemingly for pleasure. Humans reproduced quickly and freely, having offspring even in space, so far from their own world. Humans would fight, losing limbs they could not regenerate, and then fight more.

In short, they were too dangerous not to make allies of. And so the Ra-Sek had, and in their many years, Zah Rem considered this one of the wisest choices of their people. The humans had helped them explore planets previously thought uninhabitable. They had seen human shipmates run headfirst into aggressive unknown flora and fauna and categorize it, collect it, and make it known. In one instance, they had seen the entire brunt of humanity brought to bear on a now extinct warmongering race, simply because this race had been dubbed “bullies that don’t play fair”.

The human shifted in her chair. “Hey dragon, still alive?”

Zah Rem exhaled a plume of steam. They knew this word referred to them, and that it was a reference to a Terran creature that may have never even existed. They had seen a picture once, and they did see the similarities to a Ra-Sek. That didn’t mean they had to answer.

The human sighed and flicked her eyes up and across, a human gesture of annoyance. “I know you’re alive, your monitors are going. I wanted to ask if you need anything.”

“Need? I am dying, there is nothing more I need.”

The human curled her upper lip, almost perfectly mimicking the Ra-Sek gesture of annoyance. Human mimicry really was uncanny. “I know that, but, is there anything you want? Water? Food? A book? Are you just…gonna sit there until it happens? Aren’t you…y’know, uneasy?”

Now that was a strange word to use for this state, and Zah Rem wondered if their translator had translated the Terran Common incorrectly. “Uneasy? Why would I be…Uneasy?”

The general shifted in her chair again, suddenly transfixed by her pad. “Well, I mean, are you…afraid?”

Zah Rem tilted their head, trying to mimic a gesture they had seen humans use. “Why would I be afraid? I am dying, this is a normal process for all living things.”

The human seemed frustrated, and Zah Rem once again saw the wisdom of their own tradition of leaving the dying to cool in peace.

“I know that! I just mean…aren’t you afraid of what happens next? Like, to you…after you die?” her shoulders curled inwards.

After…death? Zah Rem snorted. “Nothing happens after death. Death is the end of life…is it…is it not so for Terrans?” A pang of fear twitched in Zah Rem’s core. Humans…died completely, true? They thought of all their deceased human shipmates the other humans had burned, or buried under soil, and suddenly they were…uneasy.

The general waved at the air “Don’t call us that. And yeah, yeah, human’s die all the way too-“Relief. “But, some humans…we have this…idea, that a part of us, the sentient part, lives after we die. And, I don’t know where it goes, but death comes to collect it, and guide it to where it’s supposed to go next.”

“Death…comes? As in, the concept of death is…sentient? and… travels to the location of the dying to take their consciousness? Where? Why?” Zah Rem’s internal fire quivered, and the monitors began to chirp and hum in complaint.

“Woah woah take it easy!” Their human counterpart stood, touching their forelimb gently. This gesture would have been aggressive among Ra-Sek, but they had long since learned that humans touched other beings freely. Her hand was warm, and the heat soothed Zah Rem’s own heat. The monitors quieted.

“Y’know what? Forget I said anything, it’s just a dumb Terran myth. You wanna see this picture of a cat I found?”

And, for once, Zah Rem really, really did.

The next few days passed quietly. Healers checked the monitors as discreetly as possible and the general was a constant presence, sneaking back in every time the Ra-Sek healers shooed her out. For the most part, she worked on her pad, guiding the directors of her officers. Zah Rem was mildly envious of this, but they felt the cooling settling in, and they were content to reflect on past action instead.

Well, mostly content. Try as they may, Zah Rem could not shake the idea of death as a sentient presence, and tendrils of fear began to snake into the waiting, fear that, like in so many impossible ways, the humans might be right about death. They did not want their consciousness to be taken. They took to scanning the room when their human wasn’t looking.

This fear was probably what exacerbated the process. It happened suddenly, their internal temperature falling, falling, and the general was shouting, calling for help and Zah Rem knew they were beyond help, nothing could help, but they were so afraid of Death being attracted by the cries, if only they could-

And suddenly they were alone in a space that was not bright, and was not dark. They…no longer felt cold, but not warm either. It made Zah Rem…uneasy. And then they heard footsteps, and in the distance there was a small flicker of light.

The light drew closer and closer, and with it Zah Rem began to make out a figure in strange clothing. The figure wore long, black clothing that flowed downward, with a hood that obscured the head. It was carrying a long stick with what looked like a small ball of fire on top. They also saw the glint of long, sharp looking metal, reminiscent of a Terran knife.

Zah Rem bared their teeth. A weapon. This must be Death. If it was, it wouldn’t steal their sentience without a fight.

The figure closed in.

“Stop. Come no further.” Zha Rem growled. “I am Zah Rem of the Ra-Sek. I have seen races rise and fall. I have seen stars flicker out of existence. I have fought alongside humans. I will not let you take my consciousness.”

There was a moment of silence. And then a strange sound came from the hooded figure. A soft, musical sound, not unlike a Ra-Sek trill, very much like…a human laugh. The figure lowered it’s hood.

Of course, Death would be a human.

Zha Rem felt the anger leave them all at once. The human smiled, mouth closed, and reached its dark hand out to touch Zha Rem’s forelimb. Their touch was warm, and Zha Rem felt the warmth coil around  their core, lighting it once again.

“Are you ready to come with me?”

And Zah Rem found they were.

Anyway, if you’re interested in both Classics and LBGT literature, then I would very seriously urge you to put down The Song of Achilles and pick up An Arrow’s Flight by Mark Merlis. It’s a fantastic retelling of Sophocles’ Philoctetes, a tragedy in which the son of Achilles, Pyrrhus, is manipulated by the callous warmonger Odysseus into stealing a prophesied weapon from the incurably wounded Philoctetes so that the Greeks can conquer Troy. In Mark Merlis’ version, Pyrrhus is a young gay prostitute, the Trojan War is one of the many vague cruel expectations of heroic hypermasculinity, Odysseus is a ruthless 1980s politician who sees the gay community as political scapegoats, and Philoctetes’ incurable wound is HIV.

It’s not the sort of dreamily romantic fanfiction I think most of us expect from LBGT-revisionist retellings of the Classics (which stories I do enjoy! and which stories I think most definitely do have a place & a purpose!), but it is a frank and unflinching examination of the USA’s gay community during the AIDS crisis, as viewed through the clever lens of Greek tragedy. I seriously recommend that Classics students with an interest in LBGT history check it out. General content warnings include explicit sex, slurs, and homophobia & serophobia.

Read the fucking Iliad. Pretty please.

I love the fandom of ‘The song of Achilles’, or in general anyone who ships Patrochilles, ok?
Like, if you so much as utter the name ‘Achilles’ or ‘Patroclus’ or, hell, even 'Agamemnon’ in front of me I’ll instantly consider you my friend. Just thinking about the fact that there are other people out there who appreciate the classics makes me happier than a kid on his birthday. But sometimes it SHOCKS me how little people really know about them.
Maybe you’re a fan of Percy Jackson, or just casually passing by and happened to get interested. And I KNOW there is actually no canon, since these are stories that have been written thousands of times and were around for generations and generations long before that. But it breaks my little warmongering heart to see people that are genuine fans, and really into the characters and stories, and yet there is SO MUCH MORE they could know and don’t. Every time people talk about their Patroclus headcanon of him being a sweet cinnamon roll I want to yell at them: “Your headcanon is fantastic, and beautiful and sweet but DID YOU KNOW that in the Iliad Patroclus is actually the second strongest man of the Myrmidons and slaughters dozens of warriors before it takes FUCKING APOLLO’s intervention to stop him?”
There are so many other possibilities, so many other roads that the ancient tried while you know nothing about it. They were the first fanfiction writers, the first shippers, so you might as well lern from the best.
If after discovering that Homer’s Achilles was not exactly a feminine and delicate boy you decide you don’t like that, and that a pretty blond teen suits you better than a bloodthirsty warrior, I can very well respect that, and might even agree with you. But if you never read these masterpieces you’ll never know what you’re missing out on.


Hello Everyone!
Here’s the progress i have made with night-time Bjorn the Fell-Handed, from “At Night They Howl” diorama commission.

I’m slowly painting his armor, and soon i will start adding details and freehands to the biggest plates.

p.s. sorry about the quality of the photos - they’re made with mobile.