Plunder for the Ironclad Fleet [Mar 16 2024 - A Machine for Pigs]

Certified madness, beware of image dump, forum memes, and silly ideas aplenty. You’ve seen them all before, but now with some colors! The sorcerer prophet’s mechanical palanquin wades amongst his creations, servants, and betentacled friendos. He is the messiah of madness.

Lavalings un-pave the way in front of their sorcerous lord, leveling off any potholes that might impede the mecha-lobster palanquin. Floating not very high the ashen-one keeps a singular eye on them, binding them to their Tjubbly forms. Also seen pissing its way to the front rank is the baby lake-ness monster and one of many dagger tail cancers. Can you count them all in this post?

Speaking of Ashen-one. 4 obscure Fromsoftware references are lead by the Onion Bubs sword bearer. Now that Elden Ring is out doubtlessly I will need to make an Alexander the Warrior Jar, now accepting applications to add to my list for unit number 2. Props to anyone that can untangle the snek ball and figure out which games these are from.

Sharksnik and Gobblar. Pretty sure I have their roles reversed.

Doot Doooot! Spewed the clam as the wheelbarrow wheel squeaked loudly. Woooosh went the jetpack cuttlefish, tentacles flapping in the wind. Boing went the pixar clam… I don’t know what sound bowls with feet make but I like to think of it as either A: the sorcerer’s personal paper shredder or B: some form of memory storage pensieve. Or bowlth… oof move on from that pun and keep reading at your own peril.

Lots of originals here. To think this started as exclusively steampunk familiars. The audacity that I could fathom stopping after creating a daemonic steam hookah. Overkill considering the sorcerer is smoking a pipe as well, doubtlessly convenient having the hookah close by at all times regardless.

Praise the Warlus and accompanying cosplay gnoblars. Hook hand Bottjer and his fragile bird bones… the one that carries that barrel… and the aspirant unmade that’s really self conscious and hiding his nose until the day it gets flayed off.

Last the shackled minders of the bizarre bazaar. Grimly flayed faces for belt buckles, point-ed sticks… they don’t fit in at all but maybe that’s why they fit in. Imagine their sordid painful laughter as they lament their objectively hilarious task. But someone has to keep the warlus lubed and whip that tottering bowl with feet into what little action it can muster.

There’s also a fun spot the Admiralty Minis bits challenge in here. Good luck there’s a few tricky ones.