55.00€ (45.45€ without tax )
Sculpture: Romain Van Den Bogaert
Painting: Marc Masclans
Number of parts of the kit: 8
WHY YOU SHOULD CONSIDER BUYING THIS BUST:
– Plenty of stories to tell with this stranded astronaut bust!
– This fantastic sculpt of Romain Van Den Bogaert has plenty of different textures and intricate details to explore.
– It allows a lot of room for interpretation for painting.
– Our signature resin quality allows you to get the figure clean and ready in almost no time, so you may invest your precious free time in what really matters: painting and having fun.
The battle still raged on well above the orbit of Ceron XP38 when Brenson Dax saw through the escape pod’s porthole the shattered remains of the Ares, burning aflame as they fell down the upper atmosphere of the planet.
Those little suicidal bastards used a new secret technology that allowed a small attack vessel to go out of phase in the exact moment of impact, allowing them to materialize again moments later in the middle of a capital ship with their explosive charges intact and ready to blow the objective from inside out. He was on duty, guarding the starboard gun batteries when he saw the distinct flash of the trail of the Screeqqel ramship out of the corner of his eye and knew the battleship was doomed. He barely had the time to reach an escape pod.
As far as he could see, no other pods had been launched. That meant that the rest of his assault squad didn’t make it and were still trapped in the charring hulk. He hoped they had died almost instantly.
After landing on the arid surface of Ceron, Brenson started to think about how to survive until being rescued. He was the only one aboard the pod, that had room for six people, so at least he didn’t have to share the few essentials packed on it. Rations, an emergency medkit, some basic survival tools, and even a Kohren 300 laser rifle with some clips. It might take a few days for the search parties to find him, but he had everything he needed and even could use the pod as a shelter. After setting up the distress beacon, he prepared to wait.
After some years of wait, he ceased to wonder why he was still there. Maybe the High Command thought there were no survivors. Maybe that system was now under the control of the fanatic alien zealots that had destroyed his ship. Or maybe the highly ionized atmosphere of the planet was not letting the signal of the distress beacon come through. It was impossible to know.
Brenson picked the battered rifle and the water canister and headed north for the big craters’ area where he had tracked one of that scarce native lizard-like creatures whose taste he had grown to appreciate. Life was hard on Ceron, but he had managed to find peace alone with himself, far from the horrors he had witnessed in the war.
After all, it wasn’t that bad to be marooned…