“Long ago, in the distant yesterdays of Necromunda now long forgotten, a man lived among the high spires. His name too has slipped far from memory, but we know that he was vain. The finest silks imported from across the galaxy he was adorned in, and he was attended by servitors constructed on Mars itself. He even wore a jewel said to contain the soul of a great Eldar leader.
His stock was so high among the nobility of Hive Primus that he was invited to all of the most exclusive of engagements, from high table lunches with the ruling family heads, to opulent orgies held at the most enlightened establishments. All fawned over him, and many swore that wherever he walked, golden butterflies would rise from his footsteps.
So decadent were his ways, and so beautiful his features, that the warp itself stirred and the whispers of Slaanesh carried into his mind night after night. She promised him every ecstasy he could possibly dream of, and every treasure that the galaxy could spare. And so he fell to her seductions. He pledged his soul so that he could be more beautiful, and so that he could experience the pleasures the Dark Prince offered.
For years he did just this. Secretly he prayed for to the Young God, and so he kept his beauty which became even more intense, and he experienced thrills and delights such as no mortal should ever partake in. But just as he deceived so many around him, he also worked to deceive Slaanesh herself. Through his contacts within the Aeldari traders that visited Hive Primus, he procured a method to keep his soul within a gemstone, and cheat the goddess of her prize.
He enjoyed her gifts for thirty years and thirty days, praying to her and lying to her in tandem. But gods are not so easily fooled, and when he came to Slaanesh in the dark of night and told her that he had no intention of honouring their deal, She Who Thirsts was well prepared, for the eyes of the warp see all. She snatched the jewel containing his soul from about his throat and hurled into the dark depths of the Underhive. And how she cursed him, blinding him so that he could not see anything of beauty ever again, while his treacherous blood perpetually poured from his unseeing eyes.
It was thought that a madness had taken him. Those around him listened to his insane tales of Gods in the night, and saw the beauty slip from his features as his soul slipped deeper into the toxic pools of the sump. After being briefly committed, when his credits ran dry he was thrown to the Underhive. He stumbles blindly through the shadows, crying waterfalls of blood without end, as he searches the noxious muck of the sump for his soul. Perhaps it was here that his mind mutated, for he developed unwieldy and unfocussed psychic powers that kept him safe amongst the Hive’s scum and gang warriors. Or perhaps Slaanesh gave him this last gift so that he would be protected, and thus suffer even longer.
Some find him here still. Weeping his sanguine tears as he screams and cries into the darkness beneath the world. Ever lost, and ever alone, the Old Man Of The Sump still seeks his soul in the unwaters of this hellish realm. And from the darkness, on the very edge of hearing, you can hear the cackling of a delighted dark God.”
There you have it. My Wyrd, The Old Man Of The Sump is done. A composite of various kits, and painted in a bit of Blanchitsu style, this guy can be hired by any gang (when the rules for such turn up) and I’m looking forward to seeing him stumbling blindly around some custom scenarios, firing off psychic powers at any and all comers as he searches for his soul.
I had a load of fun working on this. The head (which comes from a Skaven chieftain’s banner pole) has those great bulbous eyes and that big beard, and it just needed to be on something. I’ve had it for years and I just got the idea to this and it worked! This is what I was saying about Necromunda in one of my last posts – you get the chance to create theses stories like the one above, and it’s a tonne of fun to do so.
Anyway, I hope you like him too. Stay tuned for more Necromunda bits and pieces. Here’s one final rear shot, and until next time, I shall wish you happy painting. Onwards!