This is the (almost complete) second phase of Bretonnians I’ve painted for an Old World narrative slow grow campaign being run by the London Wargaming Guild. I still owe them four Knights of the Realm and a painted Baron on Hippogryph, but that’s going back into my personal mini painting backlog for now…

Chapter 1 is given here.

Chapter 2

The campaign across the Border Princes has been a straight forward affair, with frequent losses relegated to the ranks of the peasantry, vacancies which are easily replaced by the unwashed hoards flocking to walls of the Shifting Keep. The insatiable ogres and scions of the empire took segments of the low-born as tribute, but the peasants are nothing if not disposable. The Warhost swelled as the weak minded felt the pull of The Shifting Keep. An insidious current, drawing in those impressionable enough to be press ganged into service.

Gurt was one such unfortunate. Feeling the draw of The Shifting Keep he found himself wandering the grounds immediately beyond the walls. Brutes grabbed Gurt, placed a bow in his hands, and put him before an Ogre charge. Understandably he ran, and understandably he was punished.

Gurt became a spotter. Lucky to avoid more esoteric punishments at the hands of the Once-Duke’s wizardly court, he was allowed to remained Gurt in mind, and mostly in body. His legs were removed so he could not embarrass himself on the field of battle again. He was bound to a post and placed above the defensive ramparts of the archers. He would use his height advantage to call targets to his more steadfast peers.

The court of the Once-Duke continued to grow, and festered a cohort of self-taught magisters and errant spellcrafters. One weather wizard in particular is a fixture at The Once-Duke’s side. Windrip, a crooked elementalist, has long since provided his expertise in meteorological strategy to the Once-Duke in exchange for table scraps and test subjects.

Test subjects are required as Windrip has a certain proclivity for homunculi and their devilish antics. He finds their childlike wonder and propensity for mischief much improved over the grovelling impoverished stock they are sculpted from.

The Honourable Traitors to the Realm are a band of knights sworn to the Once-Duke by such an oppressive web of oaths and allegiances that they were honour-bound to break their vows to the realm and go into exile with the Once-Duke. The first of these oxymoronic knights is Pyrrole, the Ratmaster.

Pyrrole holds lowly court with spies and informants and filters this information for the ears of those who keep cleaner company. The knight that holds the position of Ratmaster forfeits his knighthood in order to associate with the lesser men, and as such straddles two worlds yet is accepted in none. His position as the first knight of the Honourable Traitors to the Realm was awarded due to subtle subservience to the Once-Duke and clever politicking, much to the chagrin of the rest of the knightly order.

Sir Durgur Blackvain is one such dissenting knight, a member of the old guard, who followed the Once-Duke into the borderlands because of ancient and esoteric oaths. He has forfeited much to maintain the oath sworn generations past, which has gone largely unrecognised by the Once-Duke.

Sir Robert is an oddity amongst the knights, a halfling. This diminutive warrior was permitted to join the ranks of the Honourable Traitors as a jest, perpetrated by the Once-Duke, to slight the grumbling knights of the order. Sir Robert is aware of his position as both vector for punishment and jester, yet he does not allow it to influence his virtue on the battlefield. He knows his story will be defined by his deeds, made greater and not worse by his humble origins.

The second order of knights under the command of the Once-Duke is the that of The Triptych Knights. These self-indulgent knights worship at the alter of excess, for it is the only thing that separates the nobility from the peasantry. Feasts, blood sport, intoxicants and other pleasures of the flesh are signs of true virtue to these knights.

First of the Triptych Knights is Sir Thomas. On three separate occasions Sir Thomas has awoken amidst a pile of bodies in a battle long since gone cold. Presumed dead, pockets emptied by opportunistic survivors, bones often fractured, he has dragged himself back to the Shifting Keep. He considers his oaths to the Once-Duke so binding that his soul will not leave his body without explicit permission. He is a living reminder to gut the corpse who’s pockets you are picking.

Lady Bryne is tasked with the capture and corresponding execution of any peasantry who would steal objects belong to their betters. This is a duty she carries out swifty, brutally, and with complete impunity. The items belonging to the duly charged are claimed by the victim of the crime, with a sizeable bounty conferred to Lady Bryne herself.