Leading on from my musing on cult mindslaves, I fired two of these revolting meats-sacs under the brush. In case you missed my thrilling justifications for adding these to my cult force, here it is again. Previously (read in 80s American TV voice) on Mr Saturday's Mumblings:
The holy ones of the Wyrm-Forged spread the blessings of the Star Gods under the direction of the grandsire himself. There is one blessed one however, who is only unleashed under the most dire need. One whom even the faithful are wary of, for they sense its wrongness innately.
Known as the Chimera, this scion of the cult is unique. It is an anomaly, its asymmetric form at odds with the perfection of those of the 5th generation. Its body shifts and alters over time as the genetic legacy of the hivemind boils within. New claws grow even as old limbs wither and are re-absorbed. Eyes disappear under chitinous armour which sloughs away to reveal new flesh. In this way the Chimera is a constantly evolving microcosm of the hivemind itself. This is as naught, however, compared to the fate of those the Chimera bestows it's blessing upon.
The unfortunates so infected are reduced to roiling, pulsating sacks of flesh within days. It is as if the patient procession of the normal cycle is overtaken by a berserk haste to evolve. Flesh splits and organs burst as the hyper-active alien DNA rushes to proliferate. Those few whose bodies manage to endure are reduced to less than animals, oblivious to all except the erratic sparks of the broodmind's imperatives. They form a particular bond to the Chimera who can better compel them to serve the cult, albeit in the most rudimentary fashion. They are herded into battle ahead of the main force, their unnatural resilience and senseless fury making them brutally effective shock troops.
|Did one of you guys fart?|
These painted up so quick I think I'll crack on and do some more soon. I'd like ten eventually, a nice wee unit.
|Brother Faust uses two of the unworthy as convenient meat shields.|