Building and Painting Tiamat, The Queen of Dragons

When the opportunity presented itself to wrap up our two-year online D&D campaign in person at G&G XVI we all leapt at the chance. 

After two years of playing the first big 5e module for D&D, Tyranny of Dragons, the adventurers were ready to join the final assault on the Well of Dragons and try to stop the summoning of the five-headed Queen of the Chromatic Dragons, Tiamat, or at least prevent her from getting too far into the Material Plane.

And although I have access to more than enough dragon models, none of them were the proper scale (or had the correct number of heads) to represent a creature of such mythical status. 

Thankfully Jeff stepped in with a 3D printable design he found from Lord of the Print and dropped off a box of resin parts he had printed just prior to my birthday. I am by no means a master painter and was both intimidated and excited to paint such an immense and detailed model. After washing the parts to make sure primer would stick without issue, I laid them out and began pinning some of the larger pieces together.

Some tiny holes made with a minuscule drill called a pin vise, a bit of brass wire and a few calluses later, the wings, tail structure and a few other delicate bits were sturdy enough to survive a moderate amount of transport. The primary wings were especially challenging, since Jeff's printer at that time was too small to print them in one piece. Still, a couple of pins and a bit of green stuff to conceal the gap and seam seems to have stood up thus far.

The next step was using green stuff (epoxy putty to fill in the gaps between some of the larger pieces of the main body. I've never been deft with this stuff and it can be unforgiving to work with, keeping some water on hand and a damp modelling tool made it easier to keep the putty relatively smooth.

After letting the putty cure for a day, it was time for undercoating with some white spray primer...quite a bit, actually, except for the rocky base which I primed black. Given the size of the model, I decided to paint the body, tails, wings, base and each head separately and then aseemble it all before touching up any issues with gaps. The idea of dropping the model while turning it or hooking a wing on something and dashing it to the floor gave me anxiety, and I wanted to take my time with the heads and their characterful faces.

I glued each head to a popsicle stick and slid each stick into a slit in a small cardboard box so I could prime them all without having them roll around or get stuck to anything. Plus it would make painting each head much easier.

I started by laying some base colours down on the body, using my new Army Painter SpeedPaints to get a bit more depth on the red and orange with a single coat.

The wings got a similar three-colour treatment, and I was very happy with how the SpeedPaints brought out a bit of the texture without any additional highlighting.

Then I worked a bit on the multicoloured tail and went back to the body and picked out a few scattered scales to paint a matching colour which you can see above, so the transition from red to blue or green wouldn't appear too abrupt. These pictures were taken a little later on after I added some highlighting.

Then I could finally get to work on the heads. Despite being an unlicensed model, each head conforms to the look D&D has established for their evil chromatic dragons: black, green, white, blue and of course, red. Each face was characterful, expressive and a joy to paint, so I am glad I mounted them on the sticks.

Well, mostly glad - when I went to remove the sticks, sometimes the glue was stronger than the wood, and I would have to file, sand or scrape some super glue and wood off the neck. Ah, well - the net result was still good!

With the heads done, it was time to go back and apply some highlights to the main body...

...and the wings.

The base was mostly drybrushing but I took the time to pick out the little details they included like skeletons and old weapons, as I knew I would want to glue Tiamat on there pretty quickly once her body was complete.

At last, after more than a week of fairly consistent modelling and painting,  I was ready to begin final assembly! First, gluing her feet to the base and then aligning the heads with the necks (and pinning them as well)...

...then adding the tail assembly, as well as a bit of putty work for the gaps.

Finally, the wings, which were perhaps the hardest parts to align, particularly after reinforcing the joins with wire pins.

Some minor puttying and a few touch-ups, and Tiamat was complete at last! My satisfaction at seeing her completely finished and varnished was nothing compared to the surprise, horror and delight when I brought her to the tabletop at G&G a few days later.

By far the largest and most challenging model I have ever worked on, I am very pleased with how she turned out and with the reaction to her presentation. I have a hard time imagining using her again, but I won't lie, I am still working on it.

In the meantime, Tiamat has a place of honour on top of my figure case, and at least one visitor to the Batcave has recognized her, which is also highly gratifying.

INT DAY: DON'S OFFICE (SUMMER 1945)

It is no secret that The Godfather (1972) is my favourite movie and my personal uncontested nominee for best film of the 20th century. The benchmark of quality for this movie is nowhere more evident than in its opening scene. In it, a tearful undertaker relates to a powerful crimelord the tragic tale of his daughter's beating, and his eventual acknowledgement that to see justice served to her attackers, he must enter the debt of a man he knows to be involved in terrible things.

The boldness of the scene establishes itself from the first frame; everything is black as we hear the opening line, "I believe in America," in a distinct Italian accent, then a slow reveal of a tight close-up on the face. There is no establishing shot, no indication of where or even when the film might be set.  There is only blackness behind and around him until the camera zooms out and we see a darkened office, and eventually, the back of a shadowy figure at a desk in the foreground, listening intently.

There is no interaction between them until Bonaserra, the undertaker, is briefly overcome with emotion. The figure makes a slight gesture with his hand and seconds later a hand reaches in from off camera with a small glass, presumably liquor (anisette, perhaps?), which Bonaserra accepts, taking a small sip.

Imagine being poor Salvatore Corsitto, an actor with only two screen credits to his name, having to emote so profusely and without any cuts, in front of one of the most highly regarded actors of the day, Marlon Brando. Talk about pressure! But Cosittor is brilliant, mesmerizing, even, and Brando's subtle gesture to get this poor guy a drink already keeps our focus on Bonaserra as he continues his tale of woe and his disappointment with American justice.

Corsitto's monologue is uninterrupted for two and a half minutes, an eternity by modern editing standards, Brando's Vito Corleone finally speaks, asking why Bonaserra went to the police instead of coming to him first, then asking what it is the undertaker would have him do. 

Bonaserra gets up from his seat gingerly, sets his tiny glass on the immense desk of Don Corleone, and moves to whisper in his ear. What tremendous discipline to leave the camera still as Bonaserra moes offscreen in the background and then back into view in the foreground. The camera moves, almost imperceptibly, to center the frame on the inaudible interaction between the undertaker's lips and the godfather's ear.

The point of view finally switches to show Marlon Brando behind the desk in a dapper tuxedo with a red rose boutonnière, and the jowly implants he had insisted upon in place deforming his face from the handsome features most viewers would have been likely to remember. It has taken nearly three minutes for us to see the face of the title character, despite his presence in the scene.

The next change in perspective lets us finally see the other two occupants of the room: the don's son Santino (James Caan ) and adopted son and concigliere Tom Hagen (Robert Duvall). They get no lines, however, as the characters are clearly there to learn and to serve. I wonder how much the actor appreciated their proximity in such a well-composed scene, and how much learning they might have done as well.

While seated at the desk, Brando nonchalantly pets and plays with a grey cat on his lap. The cat was not in the script - it was a stray that had wandered onto the set that Brando had picked up and director Francis Ford Coppola decided to leave it in the shot. Ironically, while adding some dimension to the scene and offering comparisons to the sharpness of Vito's claws concealed behind a charming facade, the cat's purring was so loud that Brando had to re-record most of his lines afterwards.

When Corleone rises to converse with Bonaserra, and express his disappointment at the lack of respect he has been shown, it is a masterclass in both acting and lighting. The most recent BluRay edition (the Coppola Restoration), spotlights the latter brilliantly as the don angles his head ever so slightly and wags his finger at the undertaker, the shadows under his eyes deepening and his face darkening as he intones, "...and then they would fear you."

After Bonaserra finally displays the appropriate respect to the godfather and timidly offers his friendship, Brando lightens the mood of the room immediately with an air that combines noblesse oblige with grandiose generosity, asking him to accept the justice as a gift on his own daughter's wedding day - but not before making it clear that someday the don might call upon Bonaserra for a favour. Service tempered with servitude is a recurring theme in the film and its sequel.

After Bonaserra leaves, the don gives detailed and implicit instructions as to how the beatings of the men who assaulted the undertaker's daughter is to be handled -  brutal but also measured, and a proportional response that needs to be handled by "reliable people."

In six and a half minutes of a subtle and nuanced scene, two actors in a darkened room lay out nearly all the themes of The Godfather: family, power, violence, and duty.

If you haven't seen it (or need to see it again) and are in town, hit me up - I am nearly always down for watching it again.

The Godfather - opening scene

WWJD? Almost Certainly Not This

Speaking personally, the most disappointing thing about American governors DeSantis and Abbott flying and bussing undocumented immigrants to Democrat strongholds in New England and D.C. isn't the cruelty or inhumanity of it, or even that they used tax dollars (perhaps inappropriately) to do so - it's the fact that almost no other Republicans have called out these reputedly Christian officials on just how out of step such an act is with their professed faith.

When we hear the name of Jesus mentioned in a non-theological context, it is often from people who claim a Christian identity but seem to practice another faith - one less about compassion and forgiveness and far more oriented to a misapplied sense of justice and its alleged miscarriages.

Whether you regard Jesus as a religious figure, historical personality or strictly a mythical being, surely there can be very little argument that he 

• preached compassion
• spoke up for the marginalized
• healed the sick
• confronted authority
• self-identified as a servant, rather than leader
• rejected political power
• rejected violence (I know, I know - "but the tables!" were any hurt?)
• was gentle
• was humble
• was patient

It has taken me a significant portion of my life to understand the true value of "love thine enemy," and the absence of any discernible love in the actions of so many who label themselves as followers of Jesus - and this includes anyone chortling over how much this escapade 'owned the libs' - really makes a person like me wonder what their faith is actually based on.

A good friend and mentor of mine recently replied to a recent lay sermon of mine that addressed a similar topic:

How about just doing what you should do for your fellow humans? How about being the example of selflessness that Jesus set himself to be? So many of the ‘born again’ or ‘evangelical movement’ seem to feel that the return to Old Testament values is the key to the whole thing. My reminder is that an Old Testament Christian is really just someone who is practicing Judaism (without the kosher laws and such) but with just as many other restrictions for everyone else. Now, there's nothing wrong with Judaism, but the difference between it and Christianity was supposed to be the word of Jesus and the love he promoted. Not much love in making a child bear a child because she’s been raped or a mother having to carry a dead or dying fetus to satisfy those who say ‘Ya never know, maybe God will create a miracle here for this one.'

(Presented with all due respect from both of us to actual practitioners of Judaism - shalom!)

I can't find it now, but a tweet I saw briefly this morning summed it up very well for me (please excuse my paraphrasing): "If whoever is in your pulpit his morning does not denounce, loudly and strongly, the cruel and dehumanizing actions undertaken by Govs DeSantis and Abbott this week in a tawdry political stunt, you need to find a new place of worship. These people know nothing of Jesus."

And even those foolish enough to defend these callous actions do so in terms of either political savviness or the fact that the 'upscale liberal' communities deserved it - no one addresses the fact that the pawns being used in this egregious drama are actual human beings. And how many of those who identify as conservative and Christian are as disgusted by this display as I am, but are too intimidated to say anything?

Even the fact that volunteers came out in droves to house, feed and clothe these people before getting them resituated in a nearby military base (with their consent) is being presented by the right-wing as privileged people wasting no time in "deporting undesirables." But in the end, I feel the reactions in D.C. and Martha's Vineyard are far more in keeping with what Jesus taught than the actions of those who brought them there.

I have all the time in the world for spiritual differences based on personal experience or interpretation, but almost none for the kind of hypocrisy we are seeing play out around this situation.

(Video: GOP Jesus)

Gutted

"Gutted" is yet another example of a great British (or perhaps Great British) expression that has wormed its way into my vernacular like "cheers," "mate," "kip" and a handful of others. Anglicisms like these inject a little variety into the old lexicon, but gutted is there primarily because it is so comprehensive.

I have been gutted the past week and a bit due to the death of a friend, a good colleague from work.

His name was Krishna Tailor and we worked briefly together in Corporate Communications just prior to the pandemic. He was creative and friendly and genuinely gregarious and had the kind of enthusiasm that can be highly infectious, in addition to being a total and unabashed ham. Krishna was a great and generous collaborator and brought a lot of his experiences working in film and television to the projects we worked on together.

The fact that he was almost as big a nerd as I am and a Superman fan literally down to his socks didn't hurt our getting along either.

Of course, just before the big lockdown, we were both re-deployed out of Comms and our manager let go as part of a big re-org, but we agreed it was better to be working than not working and kept tabs on each other in our new roles.

I was thrilled in August when he let our other old teammates and me know he had taken a job at a tech startup. He would be doing almost every communication and marketing job in the organization at first, and then hiring others to do them and being their boss. He was so excited about the potential, and I thought it was a great opportunity for him. 

The plan was for him to take 1-2 weeks off after his last day and then start in his new gig, after which we would get together for the pint we had been postponing and rescheduling since damn near the spring. 

But instead, he was killed in a car accident near Foam Lake, Saskatchewan on September 1, heading back to Edmonton.

I describe feeling "gutted" instead of sad, or even heartbroken, even though both those things are true, because gutted not only perfectly describes the simultaneous feelings of pain and loss, but also the lingering vacuity - the pervasive sense of a palpable absence, the loss of bearings brought on by such a sudden, tragic and intrinsically unfair death.

Krishna was a decade younger than me, married, and had close personal ties to both his immediate and extended families. Trying to comprehend the grief and agony they were experiencing left me unmanned.

I was glad when they asked people to attend his memorial online this past Thursday, but I am not gonna lie - it was still tough. The raw anguish so freely offered by so many speakers spoke deeply to me and echoed many of my own feelings.

But there was also laughter amidst the tears, and fond recollections, and gratitude for good times past, and clear signs that the remaining connections would not be frayed by this loss, but made even stronger in defiance of grief.

Krishna's father was one of the last to speak, and his heartbreak came through in every syllable. But then he began speaking directly to his son, reminding him that the soul is immortal, and his journey was not yet over. He gave Krishna clear and patient instructions in terms of what to expect, and the importance of laying down his earthly ties, not to be tied here with his mortal husk. He told his son to relax and follow the guidance of Lord Shiva, who would lead him on eventually to eternity, where they would all meet again one day.

So many of the Christian funeral rites I have experienced treat the beloved deceased as already being beyond our reach; so it was striking to me to hear Krishna's grieving father steady his voice and give these final insights to his offspring. It was profoundly touching, and despite my not being of the Hindu faith, quite comforting as well. 

I have already spoken to my work colleagues about getting together again to raise a glass to our departed friend, and hope we can do it before too long. Krishna's memorial went a long way to making me feel less gutted, but the only reliable long-term treatments are time and fellowship spent with others who knew the man and share the loss.

Godspeed, Krishna.