Little Carinthia
15mm 1930s Eldritch Horror

When it became clear that something hellish was unfolding in Little Carinthia, an ancient force was put to work.

They began arriving from Europe, Asia and South America, and were provided their robes and weapons by the local archdiocese. Knowing precisely what to do, the Purgator Battalion assembled and planned their attack on the abominations infesting the dark hills around the town. No one was better trained to cleanse this world of these terrors from another dimension. The Rifle Brethren, armed with Springfield rifles, engaged the earthly minions of the dark powers, aided by the Support Brethren with battalion-level weapons 00 machine guns and mortars.

But these could only do so much, for bullets and bombs may delay but cannot defeat a demon. This was left to the Exorcists, wielding the Flame of the Sacred Heart, the only earthly power known to banish vile creatures to the nether regions from whence they came.

All of the Purgators wore the ancient pointed hood, to prevent the demons from seeing their faces and thus stealing their souls. They were a powerful force, but would they be in time?

Oozing up from the ground, these horrifying creatures seem to bubble with eyeballs that appear and then recede into the slime. Most are large and many are truly enormous, and they have the strength of a seven-meter tall knotted mass of muscle, which they may well be. Tentacles constantly shoot from the blob of ectoplasm, grabbing cars or trees as if they were toys, tossing them aside in singledminded pursuit of their quarry.

These seemingly mindless beasts are often at the beck and call of the mighty demons rising to assert dominion over this world, but are they? For deep within the madness that is a Tentacled Mass, some glimmer of self-awareness seems to assert itself now and then ....

The Giant Tentacled Mass is an all-resin kit.

Somewhere in the deep woods which surround the farm country to the northwest of Little Carinthia, Great Ba-He-Mot has awoken, and thirsts for dominion once again. Its minions are unleashed from the pit to scurry about in vast swarms, casting malevolent, impish shadows upon the countryside by moonlight. But there are worst things deep in the chasm than the cruel Imps -- vicious Pit Fiends, great in size and strength, winged worshippers of the Worm-Goat God from aeons past who are bound to their lord for all eternity. And worst of all Ba-He-Mot's followers are Its "eyes," the Chosen of Ba-He-Mot, who are left in the world of Man even as Ba-He-Mot slumbers, so that upon Its awakening It will better know the world is lusts to destroy. (One such baneful creature has long haunted the Pine Barrens in New Jersey, for instance, biding its time, its existence only a whispered legend to most mortals.)

Models are white metal, except Great Ba-He-Mot, who is resin with pewter horns. Great Ba-He-Mot comes with a selection of horns which may be inserted into Its head in several different positions.

What fell faith has the master of Sheparton Manor adopted, presumably as a result of his many trips to the Far East? Why is he harbouring mysterious cultists who remain hidden on his estate except when the moon is new ... or when the tide is high at midnight, when they congregate at the beach, praying seaward for some mysterious purpose?

Models are white metal, except the Octopus God, which is resin, and is supplied without a base. Cultists have a selection of heads (two sprues of three different) provided with each pack. Models painted by "Spacejacker."

On clear nights they can be seen gliding down from the blackness of space, like shooting stars, only in a colour unlike anything anyone can recall having seen. They descend to earth, and those brave onlookers with the curiosity to go to the site of the crash and investigate are rarely seen again. Those few who return are quite mad. Now there are enough of these Things from Beyond that glimpses of them are being reported in and around the town by horrified observers. Sometimes they are spied shambling around on the ground, others rooted to the earth, waving feelers, some floating in the air, others striding about, a hideous mockery of man.

What are they, and why have they come to this blighted town? Or has a wave of mass hysteria gripped Little Carinthia, filling its beleaguered insane asylum to overflowing?

There are some who would seek to prevent the unleashing of world-ending terror, despite the threat to their sanity. But what can they do against such malevolent purpose?