Rang-dang, diggity, dang-de-dang

I've painted up the mightiest of Elf troops - White Lions of Chrace. These models are my favourite incarnation of these Elves, they look like Elf “jocks”, strong and brutal, planting their feet in a wide stance and hefting their axes. Later versions of them missed the mark, looking more like some sort War Dancer variant.

I've gone with experimenting with Speed Paints to get a cleaner look to the High Elf Army I painted about 10 years ago and I plan on adding more units of other High Elves to these to create a cleaner looking "4th Ed Red" High Elf army.

Since these photos were taken I've repainted the red gems to green to fit with my Archers and Spearmen, these White Lions were actually painted before the other two units and my brain hadn't clicked that the green gems looked better as a spot colour at the time. As they looked so good on the Archers and Spearmen I went back and updated the Lions.

And yes, as ever, I still need to do the banner.

Now the blurb:

Moonlight illuminated the White Lions as they burst out of the trees, each warrior hefting a massive two-handed axe, bejewelled with gems that shimmered like captured starlight.

Their surprised prey, sleek figures in lacquered armour, turned to face them, their eyes full of malice. They shouted curses as they raised hooked blades to defend themselves.

“For the honour of the Chrace” cried the High Elf captain, Korhalen, pointing his axe at their dark kin.
The warriors surged as one. Their footfalls were quiet, but the moment they struck the Dark Elf line, the earth seemed to split with the force of the impact. Axes came down like falling comets - tearing through curved blades, biting deep into dark armour, sending enemies crashing into the dirt.

A Dark Elf assassin leapt for Korhalen, twin daggers glinting. With a twist of his shoulders, the elf captain let the strike slide past, then brought his axe around in a brutal sideways arc. The assassin’s blades clattered to the ground as he fell in two clean halves.

The battle became a storm of steel. The White Lions swung their mighty axes in sweeping, precise arcs, each strike shattering through armour and battering aside shields. The Dark Elves fought with poisonous grace, but they could not stand against the might of their elite kin.

Moments later, silence settled over the glade. The last of the Dark Elves collapsed, their dark armour staining the frost-bitten grass.

 

The carnage of the after battle was brutal, mutilated fell Elven bodies littered the floor of the forest clearing.

Korhalen planted his axe in the earth and surveyed the aftermath. “The night was theirs,” he murmured, “but the dawn is ours, our fallen kin, murdered by these deviants, have been avenged.”
Around him, his warriors raised their axes in silent salute, the first rays of morning glinting along their blades.