The Irnståv League

[apologist]

Oathband of Trym-Eena, of the Irnståv League

 

 

 

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A tap of his heavily-gloved hand opened his helm, the visor swinging back noiselessly. His face, already wrinkled, scrunched further as the whiff of distant manufacturing reached him, but his eyes were already fixed on the device in his hand. 

 

He ignored the cold, corrupted air of Tundrine Har as he ignored the nearby gunfire. The rising whine of WSTR and Portr's ion blasters punctuating the heavier crack-pops of the rest of Trym. 

 

'When you are ready, Okkâ.' The Theyn's reproving tone was distorted by patch-crackle. To all appearances, Okkâ Sharpear ignored his leader, too. The soft white underlighting from his comms device lent his craggy face an eerie glow as he paged through the intelligence.

 

There. 

 

Satisfied, he gave a small nod, tapped a few thick buttons on his forearm, and looked up. Trym's other Ironkyn gave him a jaunty thumbs-up, which – as always – annoyed him no end. Its projected face  cheerily rotated to its front, and the Ironkyn and Sven Ovnîn disappeared round the corner. Sharpear muttered to himself under his breath, then jogged up to the corner Sven had vacated, and readied his own boltgun.

 

From around the corner, the sound of gunfire redoubled briefly, before a sharp cry of pain rang out abruptly. Sharpear peeked round the corner.

 

The two Kin stood looking pleased with themselves, much to Okkâ's inward disapproval. Too much vim in the young these days, he thought to himself. He sauntered over to join them, rolling his eyes as he saw J33VS congratulate his partner with a pat on the back.

 

'Think that was the last, Sharpear.' Said Sven, his own helm retracted completely. The young warrior scratched idly at the stubbly base of his beard where his inner suit began. His face, leathery and star-tanned, wore an expression that bordered on the smug.

 

'I'll be the judge of that, young Sven.' He looked about briefly, scowled, then voice-patched the Theyn.

'Albus? The way is clear. You can bring the rest of Trym round now I've sorted things out.' 

The only reply was an amused grunt. Kin wasted nothing; even words.

 

After giving J33VS and Sven Ovnîn another admonishing scowl, Okkâ closed his visor with a tap on side of his helmet, hefted his boltgun, and motioned to them. They wore acquisitive grins on their faces; skin and metal alike.

 

'Toil earns, you two. Time you stopped playing at soldiers and learn something from your betters.'

 

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Painted this little group up for a Kill Team event played with my gaming group, the PCRC. They met with very little success in gaming terms, but I'm really pleased with how they came out painting-wise.

 

The chap in the middle above is Albus Irnståv. I used one of the other Kin Kill Team models for him to help him stand out as a personality.

 

 

I took inspiration for the green, red and yellow scheme from the Squats of the old Mjalnar League – an unabashedly retrohammer scheme from Epic: Space Marine's Ork and Squat Warlords expansion. These chaps were quite time-consuming to paint, but a lot of fun. 

 

The ironkin were an idea that left me cold when they were first previewed, but after painting up J33VS and WSTR (above), I'm coming round to them.

 

 

Annoyingly I don't have a shot of the front of the other three, so that'll have to wait for another time.

 

Would love to hear your thoughts on what I could paint next to expand the force. 

Edited 1 hour ago by apologist