Mamluk Yuletide Sentinel

Mamluk Yuletide Sentinel

When winter settles over the steppe and trenches alike, a strange figure walks beneath the pale stars — the Mamluk Yuletide Sentinel. Draped in a heavy crimson coat trimmed with frost-white fur, he moves with the solemnity of an ancient guardian, as though each step echoes a memory far older than the war itself. Rows of small brass bells hang from his armor and sleeves, chiming softly with every movement — not in celebration, but in warning, a herald of judgment carried on the frozen wind.

No one agrees on where the Sentinel first appeared. Some soldiers swear he walked out of a blizzard that had no beginning, others claim he descended into their encampment as silently as falling ash. A few officers insist he is merely a veteran from a distant order of desert warriors, clad in festive raiment as a strange form of tradition. But those who have met his gaze through the drifting snow know better. The Yuletide Sentinel does not arrive — he returns, as though winter itself summons him.

Across his back rests a bulging sack, the kind storytellers might call a bag of gifts. Yet within lie the trophies of his sacred hunt: skulls of heretics, polished and marked with protective scripture, each one a grim testament to battles fought in places no map records. Some skulls whisper faintly when the night is cold enough, as if the remnants of damned souls trapped within still beg for release. The Sentinel carries them not as spoils but as warnings, holy talismans against corruption. In battle, he offers these grim “gifts” with an outstretched hand, as though presenting a blessing — or a judgment. His enemies rarely understand which until it is too late.

Those who have fought beside him recount strange happenings. Frost thickens around his boots even when fires burn nearby. The bells on his coat sometimes ring without wind, tolling in slow, heavy rhythms that set the hairs on the neck upright. Ammunition near him seems to strike truer, as if guided by unseen hands; blades sharpened in his presence rarely dull. Some say the Sentinel carries with him a fragment of midwinter’s holy stillness — that moment of silence when the world holds its breath between one year and the next. In that silence, righteousness sharpens like steel.

Despite his fearsome appearance, there is nothing frantic or wild in the Yuletide Sentinel. He is methodical, patient, and unyielding. When he advances, it is with the calm inevitability of snowfall burying the dead. His coat billows behind him like a standard of red flame, and the skull in his hand — the offering, the warning — gleams with frost as if carved from ice itself. Some enemies flee at the sight; others fall to their knees, unable to speak beneath the weight of his presence.

Yet the Sentinel is not merely an omen of destruction. In rare moments, soldiers speak of seeing him kneel beside the fallen, pressing his gloved hand to a soldier’s brow while the bells fall silent. What he whispers is unknown, but those blessed by his touch claim to feel warmth — impossible warmth — spreading through their wounds, buying them precious time to be carried to safety. Whether miracle or hallucination, no medic has dared question it.

In the cold season of war, he is both omen and executioner, walking through snowdrifts as if through drifting incense, bells murmuring his passage. He is winter personified — impartial, merciless, and strangely beautiful in his solemn duty. To see him is to remember that even in winter, justice has its own cheer — and its own price.

And when the thaw finally comes, the Yuletide Sentinel vanishes without tracks, as though winter reclaims what belongs to it.

Fully compatible with Trench Crusade

A dream for painters and grimdark collectors

The set– “Mamluk Yuletide Sentinel”, designed by Wargames Crew

This kit contains two-handed Zulfiqar and shield

Total size 55mm

Base size is 32mm

Buy STL here