Been Painting Some Cool Models For A Custom Army Of Wetland Dinosaurs!

Been painting some cool models for a custom army of wetland dinosaurs!

The Great King was on his march

Legions across the land walked, and shook the Earth in endless droves

Men in paint, decorated by golden rings and chains, tattooed by endless story of honor and the hunt

Women cloaked head to toe, velvet and obsidian, guided not by eyes nor ear, sensing silent spirit rivers

Bronze machines clattering as steam howls from their gear-ladder throats, angry arrows of howling lightning at the ready

War-beasts high as mountains and leviathans who swallow islands, draconian flies turning the skies asunder

The Great King was on his march

And the land shook beneath their passage.

R E D D A W N

The Red Phantom carried a cannon on his hip that spoke like a storm

Wherever he went black clouds followed, disaster and death

And today, a saccharine specter rides

In my town, at noon, with no clouds in sight

All we hear is thunder

Water still as glass

Snow cloaks the landscape into solemn silence, quiet

The Woman in Black cradles her dying daughter, a fragile thing broken and battered, red against white, tiny hand half into still water

Heartbeat slows, beat by beat by beat, freezing into place like the trees and mountains in glacier grasp

No cries, no last words

Only fear in rapidly darkening eyes

Black blood beneath cracked boots, worn as canyons carved by master erosion

Churn, crack, split, burn

Machines churn, lumbering titans of iron and steel, fire down their flanks

Men on knees, praying to God in Heaven and God in Oil

Far away watches the Red Phantom, dark tears down a gaunt face

He rides on and down, and feeds his Cannon with blood

The Red Phantom stood, and around him lightning flashed, rain like a new deluge

Cannon pointed, hungry metal ravenous

The Woman in Black smiled her last smile, and blood mixed with western waters down her body in final baptism

Crack

Crack

Crack

Crucified, sacrificed to cruel winds that howled and scratched and stole, never giving, always taking

Men from bygone era hung in the shadow of the canyon, ropes that held by nature of the spite of the Law

Sun the color of justice, bright as molten metal, threw hot lines down broken crags, harsh stones

The Man in Red stalked the land, made from Man into God, and God into Legend

Last of his kind

Angry to the Finality

- extraordinarily powerful handheld weaponry that is equivalent to orbital bombardment, stellar annihilation, etc. portable shielding allows both point-control and force projection against enemy forces. Mounted weaponry on exoskeletal support structures (anti-vehicle/WMDs), ultra heavy gravitational melee weapons that pinpoint, focus, and concuss/cut/shatter targets (warhammer/sword/etc). Nanotechnology resupply lines which actively harvest and manifest ammunition, fuel, etc, all from within enemy lines. Interconnected networked AI and augmented senses for extreme adaptability, walking battle wagon (see single soldier doctrine).

- Single soldier doctrine dictates hyper-lethal apex combatants that can operate as one man campaigns deep in enemy territory with little to no need for resupply, support, etc. Fireteams, special operations, and shock troops are devastating to entire solar systems, and standing armies (while not deployed for millennia) are essentially mythical in both invincibility and complete force dominion.

- rank as we know it does not exist. Experience is valued above all else. Completed missions and campaigns ensure continued modification, mutation, augmentation.

Teeth at my throat, fingers in my hair. A voice chill as the winter we’re in, every breath and gasp and pleasurable sound we make turning the air steaming.

Hissed encouragement, the pulse and roar of blood, fingertips hot as flames.

Words and sentences vaporized, coherent thoughts obliterated, my mind sparking, dying, lost in each ravenous entanglement.

The snow is everywhere, frigid, beautiful. Bare trees claw up at the endlessly dark night, and the stars watch us with envy, feeling each motion, each buildup of pressure, each erupting release.

The sky turns. The Moon soars.

Teeth at my throat, fingers in my hair.

It never ends.

- dolphin mechas/biomechanical suits

- telepathy/thought-controlled patterns and technologies mixing water and psychically responsive devices

- “spaceships on earth”, astronaut suits; massive complexes with water, flowing tunnels, exposed pools and canals

- nomads

- mutants

- contemporary yurts with salvaged or desert-constructed vehicles crossing all-terrain, superhighways, stack barrens, etc

- zoological uplifts, emerging society splintered by factions, trying to decide its own fate and direction

- scavenged tech

- stolen machinery

- overgrown structures with open space, caverns and warrens, glinting solar panels, windmills

- ritual colors, brilliant paints, patched patterns

- huge biosphere domes/geodesic hexagonal structures covered in hanging moss, vegetation

- glowing, illuminated internal silos

- primordial sprawling jungle, desolate prehistoric volcanic/gaseous wastelands, misty redwood forests

- huge mushrooms spires, moss, tangled vines and roots, black stone monolithic structures that hum, seamless

- giant bones, fossils

- dinosaurs, pterosaurs, sea reptiles, saurian kaiju

- dinosauroids mixing technological megaliths, hardlight, mechanical ‘scales’, and hardening chitinous material; touch based

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