The Luxury of Guilt

I’m in the process of building my very first Inquisitor and his warband, a seeming rite of passage in the Inq28. I make no apologies for that fact that I have used a stock figure almost unaltered, as I consider it to be the perfect interpretation of a Witch Hunter in the 41st Millenium, but I have sought to modify the other members of his retinue so far in order that they reflect the vision I see in my head.

The Inquisitor


The Executioner


The Belle


The Witch


The Secret War

The thing that got me back into the hobby after a break of a few years was the fortuitous discovery of Krautscientist’s blog, Eternal Hunt. On there I saw that he was making miniatures that far exceeded the typical 40k aesthetic for something called Inq28. As I was always a hobbyist for whom narrative and atmosphere was more important than rules or efficiency I followed his suggested link to The Ammobunker, more specifically the Inq28 subforum and spent the next few months (and years, I suppose) following their hobby, while slowly a desire to follow in their footsteps built. Now, having taken my old hobby materials out of the dusty recesses they had whiled the last few years away in (and bought a fair few more), I feel ready to try and bring what I have in my head out into the world.

On that note, here are my first two finished miniatures in the spirit of Inq28 – esoteric, sinister and yet slightly playful.


Magistrar Heinrich Cornelius von Hohenheim

Once a scion of a noble household fallen through ill fortune to but a shadow of its former glory, Heinrich Cornelius von Hohenheim set out at a young age at the behest of his father to form new alliances in order to restore the ailing fortunes of their house. Unfortunately for the Noble Lord von Hohenheim, the starship on which the young Heinrich travelled never arrived at its first scheduled destination. In the years that followed, the ship was assumed lost with all hands in the ever-shifting tides of the Empyrean, and after a suitable period of mourning the von Hohenheim family sunk deeper into debt and barely remembered grandeur. Twenty standard Terran years after the dissapearance of their eldest son, the von Hohenheims entered into a new contract with an aged man from offworld. He required contracted labour, he said, and had chosen them for their fair price and high quality indentured servants. The Noble Lord von Hohenheim was delighted at this seeming reversal of their slow decline and provided this Magistrar, as was the title he gave, with what passed for the best of their hereditary household servants.

This continued for nearly one year, until Lord von Hohenheim arrived at the Magistrar’s chambers unannounced one chill morning, and found a scene of horror that rendered him mute with shock. Profane symbols scrawled in blood and other, less identifiable, fluids shone balefully on the stone walls of the room and a faint susurration seemed to circle the space. In the centre of a circle made from the blackened corpses of the servants who had been hired out to the Magistrar, a familiar figure rose. The Noble Lord moaned with terror and grief as the form of his son, lost all those years ago, straightened and walked slowly towards him. He knew little of the dread works of the Archenemy, but he could taste the foul stench of sorcery on his tongue and his head pounded as the sigils seemed to warp and writhe under his gaze. What happened next is known only by one person.

The following morning, the Arbites raided the chambers let by the Magistrar after the disappearance of the Noble Lord had been reported by those of his family not busily fighting for the succession. They found nothing except scorched stone.


Always found within three feet of the Magistrar, Narcelsus inspires both fear and fascination in those it encounters. Although it has no face, rather a shining void, those who survive often report they saw great sorrow in its non-existent features. The chains which bind it to the Materium are as twisted as the form of the abomination itself, shimmering with colours which defy accurate categorisation.

I’m moderately happy with their paintjobs, except for the bases – I will be repainting those very soon.

A Vain Salute

Hrosskel raised his axe high as the knights thundered past, in the hope the gesture would be echoed. A sign of respect from those so honoured by his Lord would make his men view him as their leader after Gellvax had fallen in the last raid. They rode by without even looking at him, their horselike steeds dribbling thick strands of gory spit between their jagged teeth.


He cursed, the sound muffled by his helmet. His breath steamed out into the freezing air and the rime cracked beneath his heavy boots. Next to him Helvar chuckled quietly, his standard flapping as he marched alongside Hrosskel. The skin was freshly stripped from the leader of the village they had razed a day or so before and the stench of the untanned flesh was putrid, even in the chill air.


“Ignore the ones who ride into battle for their greater height inspires them to greater arrogance. Now, if you had thrown the axe at them, you may have caught their attention.”

Hrosskel snorted bitterly at the skull-masked warrior’s taunt. Next to him Ernmund raised his brass-bound horn and loosed a mighty blast, at once heartening and terrifying. Hrosskel welcomed the sound, as it promised a new battle was near. He would prove his right to lead these men in the bloody furnace of combat through slaughter and cruelty.