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Broken Arrows- 8/21/13 That Oldschool Black Magic


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I was wondering if anyone would notice that smile.png

If you look close, you'll see that the metal sections on the lower parts of the doors also have streak-washing in their upper lining. It doesn't really make any logical sense, but at the time, I was thinking that it would be as though the burning/dirt and grit it received on the way down would accrue and get caught in the recesses facing downward. Bear in mind I was doing 10-14 hour painting shifts at the time and may not have been thinking totally clearly biggrin.png

But on the other hand it could also resemble rain wash and general streaking you would get from the pod being on the field for a little while.

If you can find a fix for that frosting I would be most appreciative, assuming it's a fix for after the fact, rather than fixes on how to avoid doing it. I already know how to avoid it, I just messed up teehee.gif

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I was wondering if anyone would notice that smile.png

If you look close, you'll see that the metal sections on the lower parts of the doors also have streak-washing in their upper lining. It doesn't really make any logical sense, but at the time, I was thinking that it would be as though the burning/dirt and grit it received on the way down would accrue and get caught in the recesses facing downward. Bear in mind I was doing 10-14 hour painting shifts at the time and may not have been thinking totally clearly biggrin.png

But on the other hand it could also resemble rain wash and general streaking you would get from the pod being on the field for a little while.

If you can find a fix for that frosting I would be most appreciative, assuming it's a fix for after the fact, rather than fixes on how to avoid doing it. I already know how to avoid it, I just messed up teehee.gif

I noticed all of the weathering on the drop pod before I commented on it. I literally looked at your pictures for a good ten minutes before I decided to even start typing. I've been studying up on different weathering techniques for the past two weeks trying to settle on one I like before starting on my new DA army. That's why I was impressed with the realistic streaking on your pod and then thought about how it would look running the other way. I think it looks good as is and your explanation works, it's your army after all. I'm probably the only person that will ever notice or comment on it anyway.

The frosting fix link is here: http://www.dakkadakka.com/wiki/en/How_to_recover_from_a_Spray_Sealer_disaster

Basically it says to spray gloss sealer over the matte sealer then matte it again. I would suggest getting some Vallejo matte sealer for the airbrush and using it from now on.

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Thanks, I'll definitely give that some mulling over.  I take it that Varnish is synonymous with Sealer in this case?  As in, I have a bottle of Vallejo Gloss Varnish on my desk, is that the right thing to use?  And if I were to switch to Vallejo in general, I would look for a bottle of Matte Varnish, not Matte Sealer?

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Thanks, I'll definitely give that some mulling over.  I take it that Varnish is synonymous with Sealer in this case?  As in, I have a bottle of Vallejo Gloss Varnish on my desk, is that the right thing to use?  And if I were to switch to Vallejo in general, I would look for a bottle of Matte Varnish, not Matte Sealer?

Yes, Vallejo varnish is their sealer.  You thin it to run it in the airbrush, I'm not sure of the ratio off the top of my head though.  They do make it in an  acrylic aerosole can but I've never tried it.  I personally switched to Vallejo Model Air for most of my paints and the rest of their line for colors I need except for Coal Black and Armor Wash from P3.  I use their airbrush thinner and cleaner too.  I gave all of my GW paints away years ago.  I even tried the "new" GW paints when I started teaching my kids how to paint last year.  I gave those away as well as the new GW brushes.  I'll never look back, the last good paint that GW made was in the hex bottles and the last good brushes they had were the 'Eavy Metal Brushes in the metal tin.  Make the leap Firepower you won't regret it.

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Yeah, I was a faithful user of the old GW paints, but I'm not much of a fan of the new stuff.  Especially because they messed with my precious Bleached Bone, Khakis, and Graveyard Earth paints :(  I used to use Bleached Bone on just about everything. I've got maybe 1/5 of a pot left, which is bad news for my Templars (as if they didn't get enough lately).

 

I have been using VGC through my airbrush, which works pretty well when thinned right and with some needle lube.  I have one bottle of Model Air, the white, and as stupid as this is, it's actually too thin to use!  Not really sure how to address that problem. Normally the solution is to just add more paint :teehee:

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I think those are the P3 colors that are an exact match.  Vallejo doesn't seem to, and the range is much much wider.  But I could potentially find a closer match there than in the GW range- I bought their new 'bleached bone' tint and it was way off.

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Vallejo Game Color was intended as a direct match to Citadel's last run of colors. They're pretty spot on, in my experience, although I find there's just something odd to their bonewhite (looks fine though) and I rather dislike the VGC metallics.

 

Vallejo Model Color are mostly real world unit/vehicle colors, or inspired by. Panzer Aces are historically accurate to WWII tank crews and vehicles.

 

I'm absolutely loving the Air Color I've been using, even with a brush. I'm doing okay with VGC thinned, I just get mad tip dry.

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Vallejo makes all kinds of flow aids and drying retarders that you can add to their paint as well. You can experiment with some of them to eliminate any problem you might encounter using their paint. I agree with BCK on their metallics, I use the VMA metals and like all of them.
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A boy hung limp and shaking from a vertical wall of stone and snow, hide and pelt clothes buffeting numbed skin as it whipped in the grasp of Lacrum’s dancing winds. A familiar pall hung above as it always did this time of year, a sheath of uniform gray that would flee the twin suns’ glare in a short, bone chilling month. An inexhaustible supply of crags, cliffs, mountains and mesas stood imposing and obstinate in every direction, familiar in the vaguest shape but alien in detail and arrangement. But the child was not completely lost. By his weary mind’s estimate, he was up, and the ground was down. That seemed sufficient.


+So far down. You can fall. You can rest in death. Peaceful death.+


The wind that sought to dislodge the climbing youth with every sudden twist of direction was not a distraction. It wasn’t even noticeable unless he deliberately focused his attention. He had grown up with Mother Lacrum’s winds testing footholds, scuffing his bronze-red skin and howling in his ears as every other soul on the planet had. Subtly adjusting and bending to the squalls was as reflexive as blinking the lazily falling snow from his eyes.


+You’ve never been this tired. Maybe our Mother is tired of you. Maybe she hopes to kill you. Spare her the shame of a pitiful son.+


The pain in his hands would have normally been more occupying. Even wrapped in scaly pelts, they were cracked and bled after several days’ exhaustive climbing. But in the hungry months, the drought days among the peaks when food-beasts went into the ground and eater-beasts grew ravenous and desperate, whole tribes would sometimes have to make such a journey.


+With family, with kin to count on. No one makes that journey alone. No one will catch you when you fall.+


Weary bones and bloody flesh, a tired body and mind, he could overcome when push came to shove. Life in the mountains seldom demanded less. The voice was another matter entirely. It had clawed and prodded his mind for the three days and nights he spent on his solitary ascent. Anytime a doubt of the next reach for a handhold or a notion of turning back crept into his thoughts, the voice would echo it and amplify it, until forcing the fear back down was a herculean task.


+Don’t mistake truth for tricks. I do not make your fear. I show it to you. See how pitiful you are?+


When he slowed and stopped on flatter shelves for breath and tried to rest, it would goad him with insidious tricks. He would hear the shrieks and hisses of predators, the clacking report of falling rocks above, and his vision would distort and stretch into a nauseating vertigo until he resumed his pace.


+You think the sounds tricks? The eater-beasts can smell your blood. They know the smell of blooded prey. They’re all around you now.+


By the second day he had started slipping into fugues, finding himself several meters above where he last was after his mind had drifted and left his flesh an automaton. The voice seemed to recede when those moments came. It wasn’t as a mercy. Letting the boy fall into a thoughtless routine was just another way of adding lethal threat to the task before him.


+It is easier that way. Let go. Dull your mind and let the body move itself. No pain that way. You won’t even feel it when you fall.+


The purpose made handholds he found in his path from time to time were a welcome distraction, perplexing as they were. His tormenter had stood at the bottom of the cliff face when he began his climb. He hadn’t so much as moved a muscle up to the time the boy’s ascent finally took him out of eyeshot. And yet there were the handholds, not prints on the stone but deep holes in the rock itself, four across and one below. That the man could plunge his very fingers through the stone was believable enough at this point. But how that monster of a man could have climbed, caught up to, and passed him without catching notice was a mystery to take his mind off the ache in his body. By the third day, the holes would have small accumulations of old snow dusting them.


+See now? You are slow. You are weak. You will fall soon, down and flat. You will be a red stain on stone and rock for the eater-beasts to clean away.+


He lashed out, as he’d done a few times already. He reacted with reckless anger in a way he had tried to restrain throughout his short life. It was a jagged and spiked thought that grew wild and ebullient in his head until his eyes ached and his gums bled. He’d killed another boy a month before when he lost his grip on the surge. He was older, and stronger, a rising hunter named Ahwak that shamefully boasted of how he would take the Trials soon. He was also a cruel and vicious soul that tried to weed from the Tribe those he saw as lesser, as though Mother Lacrum’s judgment was insufficient. He attacked the boy, tried to beat him, and maybe kill him. A moment’s lapse in restraint, and the fight ended. Ahwak’s head exploded in a fantastic display of gore and lightning. That was when the tribe knew the truth. When they turned their backs to him and ostracized him to the edges of their transient camp. It was when the armored giant came for him.


He was punished for his clumsily spiteful retaliation against the voice. The released pulse of anger rushed through the intangible link between minds, and was rebounded on him like a physical force, a hammer blow that knocked a tooth from his gums and spattered the snow with blood from his nose and mouth. The punishment got stronger each time. For a moment, the child wondered how far he could be pushed before he tried again.


+You lack control. You are weak and lack control. I may kill you when you reach me. I may kill you before then. Try that again, and you will wish you just fell and died on the rocks.+


The threats weren’t new, but they’d developed an unnerving sincerity. The chill of fear joined with the chill of a freshly brutal updraft, and his hand shivered when it searched for the next grip. Frozen blood quietly flaked and cracked around his fingers when he squeezed.


+A frightened little fledgling. You aren’t worth my time. You aren’t worth the breath you take from our Mother’s gale.+


Most children dreamed of joining the giants among the stars. Succeeding in the trials and growing to wear the chert and silver armor of the Star Chief’s hunters was an honor grander than any life spent under one sky could expect. Even so, the child had only ever wanted a quiet and hidden life among his tribe. The irony of the situation was almost bitter enough to drown out the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. People like him could never hope for a quiet life.


A dread gripped his gut when he realized his wandering thoughts fed the voice another fear, another doubt to bombard him with for hours.


But for a single, blessed moment, he felt serenity. The torrent of intrusive mental abuse trickled to a reluctant pause, his pain was numbed, and a strange, gentle sorrow washed over him from without.


+No, not for us. No quiet. No peace. I offer only purpose. It is the best life our kind can hope for. Now climb.+


The agony returned. The voice pried at his thoughts again. He lifted a bloodied hand, grabbed a protruding rock, and sluggishly pulled his tired, cold self another step up the mountain.



Ladies and gents, that boy would grow into the final member of my failed vow, the Windtalker, Atawi...yes I know it's not an original title, but it's the most appropriate one I can think of so far for the Arrows' Librarians tongue.png


gallery_38474_8443_68570.jpggallery_38474_8443_37293.jpggallery_38474_8443_32958.jpggallery_38474_8443_58734.jpg



I may have to finally finish those Templars lingering on my desk for the last year as penance. Sigismund would not be happy about this. :teehee:

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Impressive the fluff was cool and your libraian is cool maybe the templar in you has turned.

It's too late. The Liber has taken him.

He's one of us now. One of us! One of us! laugh.png

In all seriousness, you've really done a great job with these guys smile.png

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The details may not be the sharpest on that sculpt, but damn it, he has ten times more character than the Librarian that's about to be released...

I'm confident I could make him look cool too, if I wanted to drop $30 on one lousy plastic clamshell ;)

Impressive the fluff was cool and your libraian is cool maybe the templar in you has turned.

It's too late. The Liber has taken him.

He's one of us now. One of us! One of us! laugh.png

In all seriousness, you've really done a great job with these guys smile.png

Ha. Like I said, I feel the sudden urge to paint a few more Templars. I feel...unclean. :teehee:

I think I may just do that to pass the time between now and the next release, when I get my hands on some tasty new Tacticals and perhaps some Sternguard....I'm not totally sold on the Sternguard, they'll be hard to bend to the Arrows' aesthetic with all the superfluous iconography and the crotch cloths, but all those juicy guns!

Thanks much for the kind words, all! blush.png

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Outstanding drop pod brother,  really liking how  the scheme comes across, and some great weathering!

 

Interestingly not a massive fan of the Librarian, but actually think that's down to the mini more than the painting, is he an old metal number?   

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Yup, real oldschool.  Not RT old, but 2nd Edition if I am not mistaken.  He's been on my desk since..since I got the desk, I think. :teehee:

 

I'm not hugely pleased with it myself.  I like the paint work I did, and the whole glowing tendrils of power out of the ground thing worked out about average, but somewhere along the line the model developed a rough sort of texture.  Perhaps I used too much gloss varnish.

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