Hunting birds

They are the first to cross the line where men would sink. Before any blade leaves its sheath, before any foot touches the mud of No Man’s Land, dark shapes are already circling above the smoke. The birds of the Whispering Blades fly without banners or cries, their wings cutting the air with the same restraint their masters demand of themselves. Where they pass, even the artillery seems to hesitate, as if the sky itself were watching.
They are not merely trained. Each falcon is raised within the shadow of the order’s hidden strongholds, fed by silent hands and accustomed to the absence of names. Hoods are stitched from funeral cloth. Bells are muted with wax. They learn to strike without a scream, to tear throats and eyes, to return with scraps of flesh and strips of parchment clutched in their talons. To the Murideen Acolytes, they are not animals but extensions of will, fragments of the same dream that guides their missions.
In the deep night, when orders are given without words, the birds are released first. They map the trenches, mark the living, and descend upon lone sentries with sudden, brutal grace. A blinded guard makes no alarm. A messenger who never arrives leaves confusion greater than any explosion. Sometimes the falcons carry small blades or vials; sometimes only death. By dawn, the enemy believes ghosts have passed through their lines.
Every acolyte must tend to them. Cleaning blood from feathers, binding torn wings, learning patience from creatures that never hesitate. Those who cannot meet the bird’s unblinking stare are judged unready for the path. For the Masters teach that to command the sky, one must already have emptied the heart. The falcons understand this lesson better than any man.
They are scouts, executioners, and messengers. They soften the battlefield before the assassins arrive, erase witnesses, and carry the silent will of the Whispering Blades across distances no human could cross unseen. And yet, beyond their violence, they embody a paradox: creatures of freedom bound to secrecy, predators shaped into instruments of ritual silence. Their wings are prayers written in motion, their talons the punctuation of fate. To watch them descend is to glimpse the order’s creed made flesh—merciless, disciplined, and eternal.
Even in daylight, when shadows retreat, their presence lingers like a chill upon the skin. Soldiers whisper of unseen wings, of eyes that pierce through helmets and hearts alike. The battlefield becomes a theatre of dread, for every silence may conceal a falcon’s descent, every pause a prelude to sudden, merciless judgment.

Fully compatible with Trench Crusade

A dream for painters and grimdark collectors

Three models – “Warriors of the Shadow – Hunting birds x3”, designed by Wargames Crew

In this kit you get:

two falcons
one eagle

Total model size from 28 to 49mm

Base size 25mm

Get STL here