In the 2472nd year of the Second Age of Gedymeer, the dwarves of Mezgûldûm delved too deep and a horde of goblins invaded the Lower Mines. For the next hundred years the dwarves fought hard to keep the hordes from invading the grand city itself.
Daugathor was a chief in the dwarves scouts and would lead expeditions into the Lower Mines to raid and disrupt the goblin war machine. One fateful day, his expedition was ambushed by a goblin scouting force. Daugathor slew the goblin leader, but found himself alone, facing a shaman and a trio of goblin champions. The shaman began to chant an evil spell as the champions blocked Daugathor from reaching him. With a startled yelp, the shaman unleaded a blinding flash of light that roared through the tunnels.
The nest of Necromundan giant rats was shocked awake as a dwarf and three goblins exploded into their midst with a blinding roar. Most of the rats fled into the safe darkness of the pipes and tunnels that surrounded the nest. A few overcame their surprise and hissed angrily at the intruders.
Daugathor shook off the impact of the spell, and taking advantage of the situation felled one of the goblin champions with his axe. The trio of intruders faced off in the semi-darkness, waiting for an opening when the rats began to chitter angrily. The hissing and snarling got the attention of the trio, who tried to keep on eye on each other and another eye on the rats.
“Heaven’s Beard, where are we?” Daugathor muttered as he realized they were no longer fighting in the mines. The goblins began hissing at each other in their dark tongue, having come to the same conclusion. The smaller of the goblins dropped his guard as he tried to take in the mass of precious metals that had them completely encased. That’s when the rats attacked.
The rest was a blur of swinging the axe and sucking angry teeth and claws. At some point the dwarf and goblin stood back to back, panting heavily and surrounded by the corpses of giant rats. That was 10 years ago. Never in his life had he ever expected to be sharing a bottle of Second Best with a goblin in a pub on an alien world who knew how far away from home. But here, The Dog and The Rat.
After their rude arrival on Necromunda, Daugathor “The Dog” and Uggrat “The Rat” have made a name for themselves as a couple of tough scummers you don’t want to mess with. Dog lost his axe long ago, but found a nice bolt pistol to replace it. His dwarven-forged shield still does it’s duty even galaxies away from home. The Rat scavenged up a Cawdor hood to help disguise his non-human appearance, and wields a weapon of his own invention, the Boomstick. His riot shield helps protect him from the blast back, and he has an archaic needle pistol as a back up weapon, found deep in the Underhive many years ago.
The armour was old. Very old. Legends said that in ages past, great cities of men towered over the land, reaching to the heavens themselves. The armour was supposedly a relic of that time, protecting champions of justice as they went about their duty. Whatever the case, it now suited Ser Rodderick just fine.
It's a lovely model, @Bracer! But sadly the deadline has passed, and then some. I know this one has been a little ad hoc, but in the spirit of sportsmanship and respect, to your fellow tribesmen and competitors, I don't feel it would be fair to accept the entry. But luckily I'm not the arbiter of competitions, so maybe when someone puts up the poll they'll include it anyway.