Horus Lupercal Warmaster
Horus Lupercal Master of the Imperium. To commission this piece please contact lillegendstudio@gmail.com for full details
Sigismund The Black Templar, Dorn's Herald, The Emperor's Champion
Lil'Legend Studio offers high quality paint jobs for your miniatures and armies.
Infamy Bust Uncle John
I wanted a darker vibe with this miniature so I used the notes written by Grant Morrison in the back of Arkham Asylum concerning the Mad Hatter. I painted the irises in different colours with a purple undertone to the flesh, as if the blood weren't quite a healthy red. The more I painted it the more it resembled Arsene Wenger! But with a parrot and a capuchin!
Roboute Guilliman
They shall be pure of heart and strong of body, untainted by doubt and unsullied by self-aggrandisement. They will be bright stars on the firmament of battle, Angels of Death whose shining wings bring swift annihilation to the enemies of Man. So it shall be for a thousand times for a thousand years, unto the very end of eternity and the extinction of mortal flesh.
Tuesday, 10 April 2018
03:54
Lil'Legend Studio
Saturday, 28 March 2015
04:11
Unknown
Tuesday, 24 March 2015
03:56
Unknown
Monday, 10 November 2014
07:35
Unknown
I.
O WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms, | |
| Alone and palely loitering? | |
| The sedge has wither’d from the lake, | |
| And no birds sing. | |
II.
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms! | 5 |
| So haggard and so woe-begone? | |
| The squirrel’s granary is full, | |
| And the harvest’s done. | |
III.
I see a lily on thy brow | |
| With anguish moist and fever dew, | 10 |
| And on thy cheeks a fading rose | |
| Fast withereth too. | |
IV.
I met a lady in the meads, | |
| Full beautiful—a faery’s child, | |
| Her hair was long, her foot was light, | 15 |
| And her eyes were wild. | |
V.
I made a garland for her head, | |
| And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; | |
| She look’d at me as she did love, | |
| And made sweet moan. | 20 |
VI.
I set her on my pacing steed, | |
| And nothing else saw all day long, | |
| For sidelong would she bend, and sing | |
| A faery’s song. | |
VII.
She found me roots of relish sweet, | 25 |
| And honey wild, and manna dew, | |
| And sure in language strange she said— | |
| “I love thee true.” | |
VIII.
She took me to her elfin grot, | |
| And there she wept, and sigh’d fill sore, | 30 |
| And there I shut her wild wild eyes | |
| With kisses four. | |
IX.
And there she lulled me asleep, | |
| And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide! | |
| The latest dream I ever dream’d | 35 |
| On the cold hill’s side. | |
X.
I saw pale kings and princes too, | |
| Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; | |
| They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci | |
| Hath thee in thrall!” | 40 |
XI.
I saw their starved lips in the gloam, | |
| With horrid warning gaped wide, | |
| And I awoke and found me here, | |
| On the cold hill’s side. | |
XII.
And this is why I sojourn here, | 45 |
| Alone and palely loitering, | |
| Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake, | |
| And no birds sing. |
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