The Legend of Stikki Wikkit

Meet the General of more than a few of my tournament armies.  Stikki Wikkit!

He was made using a regular plastic skink, with some wings from an old GW plastic bat.  The base was done using sculpey and green stuff.

Here's a portrait of Stikki, done for Games Day.  He managed to win a trophy for Best in Show in the art contest.  You would expect nothing less from Stikki!

And for those of you interested in the story of the army...

The story is the same for my tournament armies (such as Adepticon and Rampage, to name a few).  It goes into more detail of the Temple, a four part campaign that Rich and I fought over the Temple of Blood, and why most of my armies are devoid of saurus.  Yes, a skink chief has been my general at tournaments

So, here it is, The Legend of Stikki Wikkit and the Temple of Blood

It seemed as if all the laws of the Universe had been violated at once, in the most hideous and violent ways. Death, destruction, and despair polluted the very fabric of time and space as the innumerable hordes tore away at mind, body and soul.


The very earth itself seemed to bleed as endless numbers of warp-spawned creatures hacked, clawed and tore at the Temple, and what was left of the Sacred Host.

I had known of this event for many eons. The stars had shown me, a warning from the Most Ancient Ones. Now the Skull Demon had come, and ultimately the Temple would fall. In great fiery blasts I call down stones from the heavens, slaying ten times a thousand of the nameless horrors. Ten times that ten thousand warp spawn take their place.

Timeless meditation was not enough to prepare me to defend this, one of our most sacred, and certainly most dangerous, Temples. The glyphs so carefully carved by skink craftsmen meant to protect the Temple began to morph into blasphemous shapes as stones cracked and shattered. I could feel the four Great Serpent columns beneath me shudder and weaken with the deluge.

The savage warp beasts were now upon me, and all hope was lost. As they tore at my own flesh, I saw a massive creature, more terrible to behold than the entire great host. Blood, fire and hatred radiated from the abomination. Blacker than night, brighter than any star, He beheld me, and knew that the victory He had sought since the first Daemonic incursions had been achieved.

With the final intact shreds of my mind, I sought out the power crystals, which still remained in the eyes of the four Serpent Columns. They must not fall into the possession of the vanquishers. Just before my body is disintegrated in the blast of daemonic energy directed at me, I cast the four crystals into obscurity and oblivion, so that the Skull Demon would be denied his long sought after prize, and could not use the Temple as a gateway for the annihilation of Lustria.

At once the tumult coalesced into a great shriek, for without the four crystals; the deamonic host could not exist. Flesh and demon alike were banished from the land, and sent back to the hellish realm between the stars.

All that remained was the stones. Stones that had been drenched in the blood of the fallen Sacred Host and the foul entrails of the baleful creatures. The stones had tasted more than the blood of the ancient ceremonial sacrifices, and the Thirst began.

I fly over the impenetrable canopy below, using all my senses to search for any enemy. Even the slightest disturbances go unnoticed. The leathery flapping of great wings,

Which could not drown out the cacophony of jungle sounds for so many months are now all that can be heard.

Why could the child races not sense this unnatural state? Was it the unquenchable thirst for meaningless trinkets that drew them to this land for so long? Did they feel safer here, with no denizens of the Jungle to threaten them?

I see evidence of the folly of the lesser races everywhere. The land has reclaimed their primitive settlements. Time after time, these lesser beings would construct their flimsy villages, seeking to plunder what they could from the land and the Temple.

Their tiny minds could not understand that the very stones upon which they walked would eventually destroy them.

Though I am but a lowly chieftain, I can sense the hunger of the Stones. Perhaps they know of our approach. Do they know of the cargo of which we carry?

In the few gaps in the trees I can see the work details which I have led many times to restore lesser temples and cities. Scribe skinks, glyph skinks and metal workers direct the hulking beasts of burden, clearing out fallen serpent steles which have lead us here to this site. 

Those skinks deemed incompetent for use in temple restoration have had their skills honed with the blowpipe, felling many hapless ape-men along our journey. Priests ride upon massive beasts of burden, which trample the overgrown vegetation spread out on the once glorious roads, and causeways that lead to the Temple. In addition to their normal use for clearing the most immovable of objects, two of these horned creatures carry the precious Gifts from the Gods. Portable gateways through which we will be able to securely transfer the vital crystals once the temple has been reached.

Quests of such importance have always been lead by the Oldbloods, or even Mazamundi himself! I could never have dreamed that I, Stiki Wikitt, skink chieftain, would be entrusted with reclaiming the Temple of Blood.

While we approach the Temple, a much larger formation replete with the greatest of our heroes and Mage Priests has been sent to another ruined city. We have done this for we know that the sorcerers of the elf kind have had fleeting visions of the Dark Power emanating from the Stones. The puny minds of the elf kind cannot comprehend the true nature of the Temple, however.

It is known that the Skull Demon, though banished so long ago, still seeks to claim dominion over the Temple, and all of Lustria. He has been watching through eternity, ever vigilant. We must complete our journey while the Great Army distracts him.

I fear that even if we succeed, I shall lead no more restoration quests. It is likely that we shall all be consumed. Only the priests have the protections needed to thwart the thirst of the stones, so that the four serpent columns will once again have the gleaming Eye crystals in place. Only then can the Temple be under control of the Scaly host once more.

This is my duty, but it is the will of the Old Ones as well.
Quests of such importance have always been lead by the Oldbloods, or even Mazamundi himself! I could never have dreamed that I, Stiki Wikitt, skink chieftain, would be entrusted with reclaiming the Temple of Blood.

While we approach the Temple, a much larger formation replete with the greatest of our heroes and Mage Priests has been sent to another ruined city. We have done this for we know that the sorcerers of the elf kind have had fleeting visions of the Dark Power emanating from the Stones. The puny minds of the elf kind cannot comprehend the true nature of the Temple, however.

It is known that the Skull Demon, though banished so long ago, still seeks to claim dominion over the Temple, and all of Lustria. He has been watching through eternity, ever vigilant. We must complete our journey while the Great Army distracts him.

I fear that even if we succeed, I shall lead no more restoration quests. It is likely that we shall all be consumed. Only the priests have the protections needed to thwart the thirst of the stones, so that the four serpent columns will once again have the gleaming Eye crystals in place. Only then can the Temple be under control of the Scaly host once more.

This is my duty, but it is the will of the Old Ones as well.


So, there it is.  A legend is born!