🐾 Luna’s Lorepile: Entry One – “The Art of Knocking Things Over”
From the desk of the youngest (and loudest) member of the Bazaar
Greetings, mortals. I am Luna, six moons old and already wiser than your average Forge World intern. I arrived at Mischa’s Miniature Bazaar with a single mission: to knock over everything that isn’t nailed down, and to not be blamed for the things that are.
Let’s talk about paint pots.
More specifically: Citadel pots. Wide-bodied. Flip-top. Infuriatingly balanced. A masterclass in tip-ability. I’ve been practicing my arcane paw-fu on them daily. The blue one? Gone. The red one? Gone-er. The Agrax Earthshade? A triumph of gravity and willpower. I am the shadow in your hobby room. The blur on your shelf. The ruin of your workflow.
Naturally, I’m not allowed near the fancy stuff—Mindwork’s Heavy Body Acrylics, apparently. The tall tubes with serious energy. The ones that whisper, “This paint costs more than your lunch.” I tried to investigate one. Just once. It is now sealed behind an arcane barrier (a.k.a. the hobby drawer with the broken latch). Rude.
💰 On The Subject of Gold Coins and Foolish Boxes
I’ve heard hushed voices lately. Words like Saturnine and five-hundred-and-thirty dollars. I don’t know what a Saturnine is, but I’m told it doesn’t even come with snacks. Just tiny soldiers and one very large receipt. For that price, I expect at least a personal familiar and a velvet-lined dice tray.
And then there’s JoyToy. A name that sounds like a chewable plush but is, in fact, a distant omen. Something about helmets. Cosplayers. Licensing scrolls. A door closing quietly on those who painted themselves into legends. The Bazaar hums with suspicion.
"When brands start guarding crowns instead of celebrating kings, you know they’re preparing the throne for sale.” — overheard near the cat bowl.
🐾 Final Thoughts (Before the Nap Cometh)
This hobby is loud. Painty. Mysterious. Full of strange boxes and stranger business decisions. But here at the Bazaar, the candlelight still flickers, the brushes still dance, and someone always leaves their glue lid off.
So I’ll be here. Watching. Judging. Occasionally stepping directly onto your sprues and pretending it was an accident.
You’re welcome.
With claws and affection,
— Luna
Blogcat, chaos agent, watcher of the WIPs
