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Content:
This set contains all the necessary parts to build 3 Corsair Crossbowmen of Umbar for Middle-earth, as well as suitable bases.
The models are made of metal, are unpainted and need to be assembled.
You can find an image of the miniatures here.
Background:
When the dark ships of Umbar, with kraken banners fluttering, drift within boarding distance, it's not cutlasses that lead the charge – it's bolts. Crouched behind wooden pavises, the Corsair crossbowmen brace their heavy bows and send volley after volley over the enemy's railing. Their crossbows are simple but reliable; every nut blackened by salt water, every string sealed with tallow and resin to ensure the sea's moisture doesn't weaken the draw. The moment the first bolt clangs, their comrades storm aboard with grappling hooks – the enemy's ranks already thinned, shields splintered, panic in their eyes.
On deck, the archers rival each other like gamblers in a tavern: wagers on the number of hits are as common as a pre-battle swig of rum. Some decorate their quivers with carved notches, one for every soul their bolts found. Yet, behind the banter lies deadly precision. They prefer to strike at the command tower, shredding rigging and sails, or targeting the enemy's oar-benches to disable their victim. When the last volley fades, only shattered planks, torn sails, and a swaying silence remain – then follows the clash of cutlasses, and Umbar takes what it desires.
Content:
This set contains all the necessary parts to build 3 Corsair Crossbowmen of Umbar for Middle-earth, as well as suitable bases.
The models are made of metal, are unpainted and need to be assembled.
You can find an image of the miniatures here.
Background:
When the dark ships of Umbar, with kraken banners fluttering, drift within boarding distance, it's not cutlasses that lead the charge – it's bolts. Crouched behind wooden pavises, the Corsair crossbowmen brace their heavy bows and send volley after volley over the enemy's railing. Their crossbows are simple but reliable; every nut blackened by salt water, every string sealed with tallow and resin to ensure the sea's moisture doesn't weaken the draw. The moment the first bolt clangs, their comrades storm aboard with grappling hooks – the enemy's ranks already thinned, shields splintered, panic in their eyes.
On deck, the archers rival each other like gamblers in a tavern: wagers on the number of hits are as common as a pre-battle swig of rum. Some decorate their quivers with carved notches, one for every soul their bolts found. Yet, behind the banter lies deadly precision. They prefer to strike at the command tower, shredding rigging and sails, or targeting the enemy's oar-benches to disable their victim. When the last volley fades, only shattered planks, torn sails, and a swaying silence remain – then follows the clash of cutlasses, and Umbar takes what it desires.