So when I got to Germany, I started taking classes at a language school downtown in Hamburg (or as they say, “in the center”). Turns out, on the same stretch of pedestrian path was a Warhammer store.
For over a year I just ambled on by, after all, I didn’t play 40k, I didn’t play any GW games, I didn’t paint miniatures. I was 40 years-old, why would I stop in a toy store?
Except… except…
I had been playing Blood Bowl on my iPad and I was really having a good time. It was Blood Bowl 1 and Blood Bowl 2 was already out and Blood Bowl 3 wasn’t far away but I didn’t know any of that. I just knew I had Blood Bowl on my iPad and I could while away the hours in a country I’d only just gotten to and didn’t speak the language especially well by playing football with Tolkien races.
Then I stopped in, saw that Blood Bowl was still a going concern (I had no idea about the gap between when I had played it in the 90’s and the 2018 re-release) and bought the “new” box and a set of ten paints. Well… much like the sheep-fucker joke, paint one miniature and show it off and now you’re the miniature painting guy forever.
Turns out, there was an English guy in my language class and he knew a thing or two about GW and GW games. And, one day, he hands me a bag of a half-painted mini in pieces and tells me it’s mine to do with as I please. It takes two seconds looking at it to know it’s Abaddon the Despoiler, from way back when I still played 40k!
A little rubbing alcohol and some knife-work later, I have it properly broken into pieces. I re-prime it black and then begin to repaint it. I wish I had captured the steps but this is the best I can do:
I stripped him down to the pewter, stripped off all the flashing that was still there, filed down his arms so they fit properly, then glued him together minus his shoulder spikes, and re-primed him black. Then I went and fucking painted the guy. I even created an appropriately apocalyptic base for him out of cork and coffee grounds with some tufts for good measure.
When I was done, he weighed a ton, being made out of actual metal. I was done with language courses (at least for the moment) and so was he, so I texted him and asked if he wanted a fully painted, newly based, piece of bad ass. And he said no, it was mine.
So now he sits where I can see him every day and he’s what my wife and I call a “household god”.
Look, I know I’m not the best painter, but look at the fucking guy! You saying you don’t want him sitting on your shelf? Jesus…
