A customizable Hero / Warrior / Sorceress for Vampire, Dark Elf, Chaotic and other Evil Armies.
Box contains 7 accessories:
4 Weapons (Longsword, Mage Staff, Spell Book, Shield)
3 Heads (Vampire head, Dark Elf head, Chaotic Helmet)
Details
- 28mm scale
- Fits into a regular unit on a 20x20mm base
- White metal
- 28mm from heel to eyes
- 35mm from toe to eyes (as she stands on tiptoes)
Notes
Designed by Benoit Guerville. Sculpted by Fausto Gutiérrez López (Yedharo Models). Painted by minivince (Team Toulouse).
Don't miss the SF version of Asharah, now in stock.
Background
"Surrender? Surrender!!! Why are they insulting me? Don't they have any MANNERS?"
The woman leaped up in a clatter of metal.
Her armour shone. It encased her in a metallic skin that so perfectly fitting her body it seemed unreal.
Everything about her seemed unreal.
Like her steel heels, so dizzyingly high that it seemed impossible to hope to make a single step, let alone do battle in such boots.
Or like her high headdress, decorated with large bronze horns too heavy for her delicate head.
Everything enhanced her magnetic presence, one so intense it was almost painful.
Too beautiful, too big, too powerful.
Asharah, a queen straight out of Hell.
And around her, elite soldiers, vanguards of her huge army, ready for battle, awaiting her pleasure.
Her mind was adjusting to the strangeness of the news. She was getting the measure of it and feeling growing puzzlement.
"Surrender?!... They want to… surrender…? Without even a single battle?!"
The messenger nodded, not daring to utter a single word.
For a moment she was speechless. The silence seemed to last an eternity.
Despite the two hundred armed warriors around her, despite the monstrous beasts of burden, despite the steel and the free flowing alcohol, there was nothing, not a sound, not a breath. Even the crackling of the fire seemed fainter. Suddenly, swifter than a snake, she whirled towards her Counsellor.
Her action was so swift, so sudden, that the messenger was seized with nausea, as if something in space and time had twisted in an abject manner.
The Counsellor was a mountain of muscles, bristling with steel blades, covered with scars. Freshly cut heads on his belt. A beast of war. Standing two heads taller than Asharah.
But before her, a small child. Silence.
The truth in all of its enormity seemed to finally settle on her.
"They want to surrender… But why? Where are the ones who will stand against me?"
The counsellor looked down. For a moment, his chin almost trembled.
"I can… not… understand," said the man, softly.
Asharah raised an eyebrow.
"Say 'I do not understand,' Xiagan. You know how I hate the mangling of a language. Did we not learn their tongue so as to most politely inform them of our wish to engage in battle? And this is how we are thanked…"
She whirled around just as suddenly as before, hollering at the plains from whence the messenger came.
"Impotent bastards! I piss on your bitch mothers, I spit on your ancestors, you putrid pile of manure!"
As if surprised by her sudden outburst, Asharah glanced back at the army waiting for her, grabbed the top of her metal corset with both hands, readjusted it, then slowly turned back towards her troops.
Watching her, all were still. All of them magnificent, terrible, lethal.
"My friends, our opponents deny us the joy of fighting. And so we will not abase ourselves: we cannot dance, laugh and sing the joy of combat with opponents who have already lost. But we walk all the same. We will challenge their lack of heart…"
A flame lit up her eyes. She clapped her hands and, at once, a huge banner filled the sky. Beneath it were two beautiful women, entirely naked. Beside them waited a mass of flesh topped with a deformed cherub.
Walking to them, she murmured: "My little ones, what would I do without you..."
