These 28mm miniatures sculpted by Fuggit Khan are out now! Order your Bazooka Team and Big Hats here. Priced upon release at �,�12 per each bazooka team of 2 miniatures, with various bits and 7 hats. A kit of the same 7 hats only is also available, priced at �,�6,5 upon release. Bases are NOT included as of release. Cast in whitemetal by Hysterical Games. A few rocket wings may sport minor air bubbles.
The sun shone from a turbulent sky upon a rocky hillock, beholding its dark grey shape and its sparse garb of vegetation that was little more than yellowed grass and thorny bushes interspersed with gnarly little trees. It was one of but two heights that defied the flat plain of dried and cracked clay, an ashen expanse of wasteland that stretched out as far as the eye could see in all directions of the compass. The winds would occasionally whisk away dust to reveal gleaming obsidian shards on the jagged top of the hillock, and shortly again cover up the craftsmen’s waste left over from primordial times by blowing new desert sand over the top of this tall formation.
Below the hillock, hosts of warriors marched up to do battle and formed up in tight ranks behind loose lines of skirmishers, while their shouting leaders on mounts and monsters rode around and stiffened their resolve, or threatened death to cravens, or inflamed their passion for slaughter and booty. The leaders roared whatever words would suffice to make mortals face each other and fight to the death for the sake of kin and country, or for the glory of gods or ancestors, or for fear or gain. Below was the clamour of armed forces and bloodshed soon to be had upon the land, accompanied by the rhythm of drums and the blares and whistling of lures and pipes. Below was a witch’s cauldron of frenzy, bloodlust and suppressed panic building to a pitch of madness that would soon sate the hunger of vultures and jackals. Soon.
Meanwhile, upon the crown of the hillock, tall hats pierced the horizon and swayed as their Ashen Dwarf bearers climbed the height with as much dignity as they could muster. They carried strange instruments of war, and in their trail were a full dozen slave porters, chained together in a long line of misery as they shuffled forward with heavy baggage and ammunition upon their crooked backs. The rocketeers had at last arrived at their vantage point with huffing and loud footsteps upon the mud, stone and obsidian shards. The sun and winds greeted them on the top, as did the reverberating signal, for battle to be joined, from below.
“Quicker, you scum!” the harsh and gravelly voice of loader Adzunat Sikargon snapped out like a whip at the thralls following in their masters’ footsteps. He pointed and glowered at the worthless Goblin and Human porters. “First unload ammunition here, and then supplies over there. Then lie down with your eyes into the ground. Anyone caught looking up will be flayed!” A bustle of commition broke out behind the bazooka team as the jingling chain gang had to coordinate their unloading at two different spots, a task made more difficult from some emaciated swines misunderstanding their simple instructions and entangling others in their common shackles. Bloody filth! Not starved enough.
Rocketeer Guzur ‘Goggles’ Mezdanubar paid the scrambling slaves no heed. He presented the tube for Adzunat to load with a rocket. When this task had been carefully carried out, Guzur swung the metal cylinder up onto his purpose-shaped shoulder plate and scanned the landscape below through his sight. Adzunat moved aside, with one eye scanning the messy slaves, as his colleague searched for his mark, a valuable target… scanned the closing battlelines… and found his prey. Guzur acknowledged his mark with a loud click of his tongue, and aimed carefully down onto the plain below.
“Clear backwards!” lied loader Adzunat Sikargon. For a moment, his bared teeth glowed red and orange from reflecting the roaring exhaust fire. He grinned savagely as the flash of flames roasted the shrieking slaves behind the rocketeer. The lousy wretches could have been safely cleared from that spot, had they not messed up in their chains. Serves them fine!
Guzur spared the atrocity behind him neither a single look, nor a grimace. The harrowing screams and whimpers of burnt and dying beings of flesh and blood were nothing but wind to his ears. With a deadpan voice of stone, ‘Goggles’ Mezdanubar merely ordered:
"Switch of tubes. Wyvern arrow. Load!"
Adzunat stole a glance at the heavens as he carried out the command mechanically. Ominous wings rose into the beset sky, heading fast for them on the hillock. Those talons promised death, by ripping or dropping their bodies onto the plains below. The thrill of uncertain battle made his blood race in his veins. Yet even faced with this threat, a warmth spread in his spiteful heart, and loader Adzunat Sikargon reflected that he at least would die with some fresh happiness in his soul. He stole another glance, at the burnt slaves.
“Down! On your noses!” he barked at them while handing Guzur Mezdanubar the readied weapon. "Clear backwards!"
Murder wings approached and a rocket shot into the sky. The exhhaust flames flared out in a different direction this time, yet even so the ear-splitting noise of the rocket made the slaves shudder and yelp.
“Down or die!” their tormentor roared.
Loader Adzunat Sikargon saw their shivering forms, eyeing their twitching limbs and seared flesh. He beheld them obey his command even when all of their lowly animal instincts told the slaves from the bottom of their guts to run away and scream, scream out loud in wild panic. He twirled his moustache and mouthed a prayer to a martial god. He loaded another rocket and mused on their situation. Miserable wretches to be crushed by any conqueror who so pleased on the one side, and merciless death swooping down on the other. Adzunat had never felt so alive before. This! This was war. This was the true face of war, and it was hell. How wonderful!