(7) 28mm Scaled Figures

Sculpted by: Aaron Brown

***NOTE: All of the figures have separate upper torsos from the legs and any upper body works on any leg pair. Lots of variety!***

Plebes 

Helo’lo sat on a rock under a giant chestnut, earnestly wishing that Master of Arms Guul had never selected his squad for this particular ‘honor’. He and the rest of his troopers were Plebes, part of the standing army, but lacking the resources or family ties to merit a suit of combat armor. Instead they wore bulky cuirasses, some leftover from Landing Day, but increasingly made locally. As Helmsman of his squad, Helo’lo was entitled to an original. It was made of high-impact plastic and tempered steel, and while woefully inadequate compared to a combat suit, would stop any of the rank-and-file weapons the Ute’wehi commonly used. Most of the others wore the same, but a few had been issued poor imitations of leather and iron plate after their originals were damaged or destroyed. Even those were proof against the aut-cees and their knives and stones. And, today, in this cursed forest, they were all dreadfully hot and heavy. Guul, as commanding officer of the relief column sent to investigate the sudden silence from Forward Post 359, had been permitted to cherry-pick a handful of Plebe units to supplement his army of Fencibles and Militia. Helo’lo’s parent unit, the 515 North, had been among the first chosen, thanks to its long record of distinction on the plains. They had a well-deserved reputation as aut-cee fighters, but the drahouin of the prairie were different than the aliens living in the woods. Here they threw rocks from the treetops and disappeared amid the trunks, never lingering in sight long enough to justify shooting at. Helo’lo and his seven troopers had been sent out to clear the flanks of the main body of troops. That mile-long column of to’ok and packbeasts was leagues behind them now, crawling through the forest at a snail’s pace. Guul had ordered a new road built for them, but the clearing and construction crews had developed a nasty habit of failing to return to camp at day’s end. An entire company of engineers and navvies had been slaughtered among their stumps and shovels before Guul finally relented and sent the 515 to clear the woods. 

As frustrating as the task might be, though, Helo’lo had to admit it had proven lucrative. A burlap sack tied to his pack would make him a rich to’ok if he returned to the Homesteads. He had always said when he returned, but lately he had begun to wonder. This forest was nothing like the plains. He had twenty years of experience as first a dogsbody to a veteran in combat armor, then as a Plebe, but nothing in the grasslands had stymied him as this ocean of trees had. It wasn’t just the endless hiding places, it was also the sheer numbers of drahouin lurking in them. They could fire their slammers dry and hit an aut-cee with every shot and still not get them all. He checked his rifle while he was thinking about it, trying to draw his mind away from the sack and the treasure inside. The attempt failed, just as every one prior had. The walking battery was all he could think about. He could never become Firstborne, or renege on his oath as Secondborne to fight for the family, but with the robot… at the very least he could buy his own house, a proper house, not a single cramped and stifling room in the family stead. The Rules of Proper Order only said he had to fight for the 'elo'lo family, not provide for them as well. Once he had a house, and a staff to take care of it, he could finally draw the attention of some well-bred Affiliation daughter to take care of him... Wouldn't that turn his brother's ear, Master of the Family - as if that meant a thing when they had been destitute and dirty since Landing Day - yet still outdone by his younger brother? Let him and his sneering, common-born wife chew on that! 
Helo'lo grinned, but quickly sombered. Before he could hope to see the incredulous look on their faces when he came home rich, he first had to get out of these woods alive. And if the aut-cee in the torc was to be believed, that wasn’t going to be easy.

Busts, below, are just for alternate skin and tattooing reference: