#wraithknight

A wraithknight and her sister. A moment of peace for sisters only united for war.

AKA “The Wraith Knight Isn’t Dead. Nova Thinks He Is. Chaos Ensues.”

So, Nova Hart has heard the local legends.

The Wraith Knight of Gloam City. Shadow-walking. Bullet-proof. Explosion-proof. Appearing and disappearing like a pissed-off cryptid with a moral code.

To Nova—former actual protector spirit turned broke college student—it all adds up:

The Wraith Knight is totally a ghost. A powerful one. A territorial one. A “hey-you’re-on-my-haunting-grounds” type.

Which is a problem, because Nova is currently… trespassing.

Naturally, he panics.

His Midwest upbringing (“be polite or die trying”) fuses with Ancient Ghost Politeness Rules to create:

A Please-Don’t-Beat-Me-Up Gift Basket™

It includes:

a $4 knockoff Wraith Knight plush

a pixelated image he printed from a conspiracy forum

random trinkets from his dorm drawer

a neon sticky note that says: “4 THE WRAITH KNIGHT. IM SORRY.”

He leaves it on the roof. He prays. He sweats.

Enter the Wraith Knight (who is, in fact, extremely alive)

He finds the basket. He gets Concerned™.

The next night, he corners 19-year-old Nova Hart, freshman in Gloam U’s engineering program.

Super ominous. Zero lighting. Peak cryptid energy.

Wraith Knight: Why.

Nova: “I’MSORRYMISTERWRAITHSIRIDIDN'TMEANTOPLEASEDON'THAUNTME.”

Wraith Knight: Why did you leave the items.

Nova tries to say “I’m like you,” meaning a protector spirit, but:

He panics. His brain blanks. And he blurts—

Nova: “I… like you?”

He doesn’t even notice the mistake.

The Wraith Knight does.

He goes still.

“…Oh,” he thinks. “He’s a fan.”

And then he leaves. Nova nearly passes out in relief.

But now he’s convinced that the Wraith Knight spared him only because the offering was acceptable. So he keeps making more “sacrificial” baskets like it’s a part-time job.

Misunderstanding Level: Catastrophic

The Wraith Knight thinks he’s dealing with the most dedicated fanboy he’s ever met.

Nova thinks he’s negotiating territory with a dead mega-ghost who is mercifully ignoring the fact that he exists.

And then the Shadows (the younger vigilantes) show up.

Nova, trying to be subtle, makes statements like:

“Yeah, I used to be like you guys.” (former vigilante = TRUE)

“Death is… complicated.” (also TRUE)

“My family situation is rough.” (painfully TRUE)

“I have a daughter.” (true-ish, because Dani exists, so… complicated.)

Each Shadow interprets these in increasingly unhinged ways:

Nightstar: He’s a retired vigilante who knows our identities.

Gravel: He literally died. He’s a vampire.

Byte: Traumatized child prodigy. I see it.

Starfish: He has a SECRET CHILD????

No one is correct. Everyone is confident.

Now Nova is basically the chaotic “uncle” of the team—dropping eldritch-level lore at random:

Example:

Cyrene (as Nightstar): “He’s my dad. I love him. But it sucks that his job is hunting people like me.”

Nova: “Kid, same.”

Cyrene: “…But your parents are scientists.”

Nova: dead, haunted, 1000-yard stare “…Yeah.”

I imagine it would mostly be Eldar centric because Wraithknights and their lore is perfect for an anime-like mecha game (especially if we get to customize our pilots, because!!! Elves!!!!)

But you can easily include the Imperium (though the selection is limited) and you can definitely include the T'au, be it the Empire or the Farsight Enclaves (who are also perfect for the genre)

Also... Imagine if you could select Orks as a faction, because STOMPAZ!!! Plus, all the limitations, perks and hilarity that comes with Orks and how they work.

Chaos can get on the fun as well, Chaos Titans are still a thing after all.

OK so about people who know me know i don't paint much or often cause I have shaky hands and a bad shoulder. Think I've painted 40ish models over 10 years (some in a batch, my darling wyches).

Anyway I do try new things and watch videos to try improve each time I do a new model.

So back in 7th? 8th? I did a wraithknight for my dark eldar centric army for a ynnari combination. Was in my green, black, red and metallic colour scheme and had aether sails out the back as make shift wings (as incase it wanted to sail for a bit, obviously).

So i decided to try do up a second one 10 years later. Figured for this i could practice dry brushing.

So BEHOLD a drukhari themed (cult of strife specific) wraithknight.

Yes, it is dual wielding. Cut out the hand and replaced it with a left hand from the box.

I also did some modifications to the back with clay. So I figured I could use some raider/ravager parts and use the keel blade to replace the back parts. As well as little blades to the end of the bottom ones and on the arms.

Is it perfect? Nah.

But it is certainly an improvement of the original

Things were learned. It looks better than the original and I managed to try out new things.

All in all a promising and worthwhile adventure.

She's called malartaigh or mal for short.

Autarch!!!

Ithlvaena Strangling Thorn, or Bloodied-Thorns-Strangle-The-Unworthy, if you want her full name in a more archaic dialect.

Ithlvaena was a Wych, a gladiatorial warrior, fattening her own soul on bloodshed and pain, the only love she ever felt was for her lover, a Eldar maiden of a stricken Craftworld.

Her lover's world-ship under attack from the violently xenophobic Imperium of Man, Ithlvaena fell in its defence, her Soulstone plucked from her chest by her distraught lover.

Blinded by tears and the Craftworld's defenses I'm disarray, her lover eventually carried the Soulstone to the Hall of Curses, a place where great engines of War were entombed, too valuable to be destroyed but too tainted to use.

The Knight of Strangling Thorns was a Wraithknight, a gigantic humanoid construct of war, tainted by a fell Deamon that would strangle any soul trying to pilot it with tendrils of darkest despair.

Desperate to save her world and knowing that all other armouries has already been emptied, every ghost warrior awoken, and every civilian already donned arms, she placed Ithlvaena's soul in the cursed construct and prayed to her dead gods for a miracle.

And one occurred.

Grown fat and complacent on souls of naive Eldar shining and bright, the dark and bloodstained soul of Ithlvaena was more than a match for the Deamon and the veteran of of arenas hunted the Deamon down through the psychic circuits of the Wraithknight and slew it.