The STL Trenches

Swooping, lunging, scything, stinging, an insane warping of flesh is all that's left after it forgot the song of creation & gorged too deeply on the flesh & souls of mortals.

What was once holy now condemned to the deepest recesses of Hell, but still, they heed the call when the Courts sally forth into creation...

An angel warped into a waspish creature, lunging forward with it's jaws, ready to sting. I wanted it to look like a monster that once had a human body plan, but had since mutated & destroyed its beauty, with only scarce remnants to be found.

Covered in the Goetic icons of the Princes that it has served that have risen & fallen over its long career; it stalks out from the pits beneath Hell to once more answer the clarion call to harry Creation.

The Song of Creation no longer echoes in its mind, its tongue can no longer make the sounds, covered too long in the blood & bile of mortal souls. Once beautiful body warped by dark desires & animalistic fury, it has become an ugly parody of itself.

Now all it can do is fill the void within itself where its soul once resided with the flesh of men & women, believers & heretics alike.

& still the petty Princes of Hell tack their icons to its body as if they own it, when its ruled only by its own hunger...

The augeries have been divined, sacrifices made to things far older than Hell itself & their whispers decrypted. Now is the time to strike forth into mortal Creation!

Cloaked in the All-Seeing Beast's skin that cannot be cut by any mortal made blade, the Huntress skips through Creation, never alighting anywhere longer than it takes to fire a bowshot or take a head.

Radius & Ulna have burst through skin & flesh & are now the spars of an unholy bow, corrupted muscles rippling off unerring arrows of its own blood & sinews to strike down the fated enemies of those that dwell beneath even Hell itself. One breast was ritually sacrificed to bring forth the bow from its muscles, (no loss, it was never going to nourish another life with it) & like the Scythians of old it now harries the Mortal realms of Christendom.

It wears its wealth jingling from its body, the light clack of gold upon gold the only sign that its head-taker blade is about to cleave your neck in twain.

Its face hidden from YHWH, its goals unknown to all but its patrons, it joins the hunt!

"Is Leftenant Merryweather acting strange to you?"
"We're all at the end of our rope here, go relieve him"
"Yes Sarge..."
- The final known words of Private McTavish

An unfortunate soul with goetic potential is snatched away in the night, & the only reward for surviving the horrors of the journey to Hell is hellfire itself.
Consumed by flames that sear off flesh & crack bones but knit the soul to the corpse, these poor creatures' very marrow burns with neverending suffering.
The blackened skeleton is clothed in alchemically grown muscle tissue, strange devices implanted in vat-grown organs, all stuffed in the hollows of its body.

& for what end?
To create a goetic ghoul.

The ghouls stalk the battlefield looking for stragglers & loners, ambush them, & flay their skin from their bodies. They dress themselves in their grissly trophies not for sport, but to create a goetic glamour, to steal the identity of their victim.
& once they have a stolen identity they work their way up the chain of command until they can reach a high officer, assassinate them, & receive the only blessing afforded to them...
Massive amounts of Hell's most effective drugs blast through their system on a kill, flooding their burning neurons with endorphins.
But eventually the drugs will stop working, Hell will lose what hold they have upon the ghoul & it'll be reduced to a wailing, berserk slasher until the fire within their bones finally consumes the tattered remnants of their soul & all that's left is the echo of their tortured howl upon the ephemeral background radiation of the battlefield.

Leaving a trail of destruction it its wake, Shaytan's Bride arrives unto your battlefield!

Designed with TC in mind but in 32mm scale so compatible with many other systems. If you'd like any alterations so that it'd fit other load outs, games, or themes that can't be achieved through kitbashing send me a message & for a fee I may do some sculpting for you.

Inspirations for the sculpt include Chainsaw Man's Reze, Mackennal's 'Circe', & Yotsuya Simon's dolls.

I'll leave the backstory to you because I hope my sculpt inspires some great ideas of your own :)


One of my first mini-sculpts, please forgive the image quality, I'm just getting started here :)

Ira Ira Ira Ira Ira Ira...

She should've been La Pucelle reborn at this critical juncture in No Man's Land... Charging across the fields of Avignon on her prize stallion, stalking through the blasted olive orchards of the Holy Land... But her pride & naïveté lead her to running afoul of a powerful Cardinal & his witch hunter.

But cursing YHWH & all his servants, she was saved from the fires of the stake at the last moment by the dark powers of hell, to be reborn as a fallen saint.

Now its burnt body is reunited with the flesh of its followers turned burning bronze muscle & what was left of its beloved charger. A brand new unholy tabernacle for the dark powers. A prize possession of an up & coming prince of hell.

It stalks creation, face hidden from YHWH by the smoke of its execution so that neither punishment nor forgiveness can be bestowed upon it, what should've been the martyr's starry crown turned dark & iron.

A hostage on its great shield provokes the faithful. Hypocrites! Either they kill her & show their so called righteousness is hollow, or they try & save her like they refused to save it from the stake. Hypocrites!

Its clarion call a warning klaxon for all creation... Hell has come to scourge the land!

Ira Ira Ira Ira Ira Ira...

Or so I've sketched out, feel free to give it whatever backstory you like!

My 3rd sculpture compatible with 32mm table top gaming, I'm pretty pleased with how it's turned out, especially the fact that it free stands with excellent balance is quite impressive IMO. I hope you like it too!

Leading a hellish raiding party out unto the wastes of Creation, a scourge of the Faithful, behold: The Father with a Thousand Backs!

It mocks the Ecstasy of St Teresa even as it burns YHWH's works, its flaming sword cleaving believers in twain. It revels in the ecstasy of violence, desperate to fill the emptiness within.

Wrapt in barbed wire, armoured with the finest of Hellish smiths' work, & playing a tortured harp only the doomed may hear, it dances across No-Man's-Land searching out its next morsel.

Or so I've sketched out, use them as you see fit & write your own lore for them :) - This is my second sculpt for the TC universe & I'm quite pleased with the result & hope you enjoy it too.

Printed at the size of the supplied STL they stand about 90mm tall to the top of their head, it has a commanding presence in 32mm scale games.