Brinebound Husk-Tithe (wretched)

They are not soldiers, nor true cultists, but the living debt of the Gluttons of the Abyss. The Brinebound are those dragged from raids along the coasts, from wrecked ships, flooded prisons, and slave holds beneath the waves. Shackled, starved, and half-drowned, they are marked not for service, but for consumption — offered to the Abyss as walking proof of devotion. Each body is a tithe, each breath a sacrifice, each step a reminder that the cult’s hunger is endless.

Their flesh is scarred with ritual cuts and salt burns, carved not for healing but for remembrance. The wounds are kept raw, salted daily to prevent closure, ensuring that pain itself becomes their liturgy. Their mouths are sewn shut or filled with iron gags, so no prayers escape but those sanctioned by the cult. The silence of the Brinebound is not their choice; it is the enforced muteness of those whose voices belong to the Abyss. Rusted chains bind them together, not for control alone, but to ensure none may fall without dragging others with them. In this way, they march as one body, one burden, one offering.

Each step they take grinds brine into open wounds, keeping them awake, aware, and obedient through pain alone. Sleep is forbidden, rest denied. Their bodies are sustained only by the cult’s cruel alchemy — brine-soaked rations that burn the throat and blacken the tongue, keeping them alive just long enough to serve again. Their eyes grow hollow, their skin pale and cracked, yet they endure, because endurance itself is demanded.

On the battlefield, the Brinebound are driven ahead of the Devourers’ advance. They absorb fire meant for true warriors, stumble into minefields, and clog trenches with their collapsing bodies. Their purpose is not victory but attrition, to bleed the enemy’s strength before the cultists strike. When they finally fall, cultists claim the Abyss tastes their fear through the salt in their blood, and is pleased. The Brinebound die not as men, but as offerings, their agony transmuted into sustenance for the Gluttons’ god.

Those who survive a battle are not freed. Survival is not mercy but punishment. They are dragged back to the holds, broken further, and sent out again. Bones are reset only to be shattered once more, wounds are stitched only to be reopened. For the Gluttons, waste is the only true sin, and so the Brinebound are recycled endlessly, their bodies ground down until nothing remains but salt, scars, and silence.

They are the living debt of the Abyss, reminders that devotion is measured not in prayer or ritual alone, but in flesh surrendered, in pain endured, in lives consumed. To see them march is to witness despair given form, a procession of drowned souls walking the earth until the sea finally claims them.

For the Gluttons, waste is the only true sin.

Fully compatible with Trench Crusade

A dream for painters and grimdark collectors

The set – “Brinebound Husk-Tithe”, designed by Wargames Crew

The set includes 5 models with melee armor, and three shotgun options

Total size from 36 to 38 mm

Base size is 25mm

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