A hard coming we had of it. For twenty days, we trekked north across the Badlands, finding water where we could; our astronomers guiding us by night. On the ninth day, a great scorpion rose from the scrub before our caravan, standing higher than a man. Emir Suleiman himself slew it with his scimitar. In the days after, six of our brothers fell to the crude arrows of the Chomped Lug'ole goblins, whose wolf riders clashed incessantly with our brave vanguard. We buried our martyrs before the sundown in accordance with our customs.
We were not rid of the greenskin dogs until we crossed a great ravine and the first fast running water we had seen since Al-waha al-kubra. Now the air is cooling and the grass thickening. We press on to the Border Princes. It is our ardent hope that we reach Plavigorica and break the siege lines of the hated Skaven before it is too late. This is our pledge. We cannot return to Araby before it is fulfilled.
This month I've been painting a bow unit, the Rumah-Al-Sahra or "desert archers". These are converted 1996 Bretonnian plastic longbowmen. The standard bearer (also plastic) is from the Perry's Mahdist war range, while the commander and musician are metal Gripping Beast Moors.
The banner is supposed to read: "Arrows of the Wind". I replaced the standard bearer's straight sword with a Skeleton Horde scimitar, aiming to make him a little less historical and more fantastical.
The Contingent so far:
January - Arabyan Guard with spears, shields, and a hashishin 165 pts link
February:
- 9 Desert Archers with standard and musician: 77 pts
- Level 5 commander with light armour and bow: 33pts
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See you in March. More light, more days, what could go wrong?
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