Chaos Cultist Chan Boomhammer (Nsfw)
It started with a dress code.
If you are new here, this is Cultist Chan. She is the smallest, filthiest and most enthusiastic devotee in any warband she has ever attached herself to. No armor. No training. No rank that anybody can produce paperwork for. Every one of the Dark Powers has marked her and not one of Them has ever explained why. She smells permanently and inexplicably of fried breakfast. She carries a relic Hammer that a Chaos God forged for a far greater champion, and that relic refuses to be lifted by anybody else, up to and including the legion it was originally built for.
A High Priest of the warband, a man with eleven titles, all the mutations and a hat you could signal ships with, reviewed Cultist Chan's previous outfit and ruled it improper. Not improper for the warband, improper for Chaos! He put the ruling in writing, he read it aloud to the whole congregation, and he instructed her to cover herself.
She went away and thought about it, which nobody expected, and returned the following morning having removed the rest.
What he reached for then was the strongest curse in their archive. Forty years of study behind it. Meant to unmake a target slowly and from the inside out. He pronounced it perfectly. The word left him, hung in the air, took a good look at which of the two of them the Dark Gods actually favored, and turned around.
It gave him diarrhea. Eleven days of it, audible through two floors of stone, severe enough that the entire priesthood had to rearrange its schedule around one man and one corridor. He came out of it considerably thinner and with no authority left at all, and that corridor has been known as the Martyr's Descent ever since.
The Gods declined to comment. Two of Them were audibly laughing.
The ruling was a formality in any case, because she had already worked out exactly what a naked, cheerful, entirely unbothered cultist does to a battlefield. She comes at the enemy line bare apart from her boots, at a full sprint, screaming, everything out and flapping, and the line breaks. Because of the very specific paralysis of a soldier who has trained his entire life for war and must now decide, urgently and under fire, where to look.
One enemy after-action report uses the phrase "her exposed ████" four separate times in two pages, which tells you considerably more about the officer who wrote it than about the engagement. Her own current warband has the identical problem and has stopped filing reports at all.
She goes to war in boots, chains, buckles and a belt that holds up nothing whatsoever. She considers this fully equipped.
For painters this is a lot of uninterrupted skin and absolutely nowhere to hide a sloppy blend. For everyone else it is the model that makes visitors to your shelf stop talking in the middle of a sentence.
NSFW version of Cultist Chan Boomhammer is available now, 40 mm tall on a 32 mm round base. The dressed version is available separately, for the modest.
She was told to cover herself. This was her counter-offer.
You can buy printed models here:
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