Weekly Waffle #392 – The Talon That Breaks Bone
30th August 2025
For this week’s weekly waffle I am going to be continuing with my journey into the world of the Falconers from Guild Ball. But before I do that I want to have a little bit of a waffle. A waffle about something that may at first glance seem a little odd for a Saturday morning hobby chat. That something is brain training. I know it sounds a bit odd but hear me out.
As long as I have been making models, and that is a long time, we have always had to deal with mould lines. Be it a multi part plastic kit, a single plastic mini, metal or even resin. They have all had mould lines. Some have been very fine and hard to find, at least until you start to put colour on. Some, early fine cast I’m looking at you, were so bad the mini was almost useless.
My point is the mould line has always been there. And over the, in my case many, years of the hobby we have become attuned to looking for them. Not always successfully but you get into the habit of where they are likely to be and become attuned to seeking them out.
But with the shift to more and more of our minis being 3D printed mould lines have become a thing of the past. But the little nubs left from the supports haven’t.
I don’t have a 3D printer myself, just don’t have anywhere to put one. So my experience with cleaning them up is limited. Puppets Wars print a lot of their minis and I’ve cleaned a few of these. But they have needed very little cleaning so it’s not something I’ve tuned my brain to.
These Guild Ball minis on the other hand need a little more cleaning. There are a lot more of these nubs, and the little broken ends of the supports. I’ve missed a few on the minis I’ve painted so far but seem to have missed some key ones on this guy.
There was the option to go back, clean him up and start again. But I wasn’t that concerned. They aren’t being painted for a competition so I didn’t want to spoil the fun of painting these by having to strip them down. So they will stay as they are but I will have to start training my eye to look for them. Spending a little bit more time earlier in the process to avoid making the same mistakes again in the future.
But enough of me waffling on about the problems I’ve had. What do you think of how he turned out.
You can see more Guild Ball miniatures at my gallery here
Let’s not mess about. Rundaas isn’t here for goals. He doesn’t soar, he doesn’t dance, and he sure as hell doesn’t care what your plan was. He’s the pain. The punishment. The thudding punctuation mark at the end of every bad decision your opponent makes.
If the Falconers are a hunting party, then Rundaas is the blunt object they keep on hand for when the prey fights back. He’s not elegant. He’s not clever. He is violence incarnate, and sometimes, that’s exactly what you need.
Lore-wise, Rundaas isn’t your typical culty Falconer whispering to the winds or meditating on mountain tops. He’s the brutal enforcer. The muscle. The embodiment of the guild’s more… primal tendencies. Less “messenger of the skies” and more “blunt trauma wearing feathers.”
While Minerva plays 4D chess and Ikaros cartwheels through the clouds, Rundaas just walks forward and breaks something. And we love him for it.
He’s the kind of player who doesn’t wait to see how the situation unfolds, he makes the situation unfold like a folding chair to the face. Tactical? Not really. Effective? You bet your last influence he is.
Let’s talk about Fierce, because it’s what Rundaas does best. You want raw damage? You got it. He hits hard and often, with a playbook that looks like someone took a sledgehammer to the concept of balance.
He benefits enormously from Harrier markers. You set ‘em up with Minerva, Mataagi or even his own Sweeping Charge, then Rundaas waddles in and delivers the pain. He’s an ideal finisher for any target that’s already softened up—or just unlucky enough to be standing where Rundaas wants to go next.
His melee zone and crowd control are absolutely massive. He turns the pitch into a minefield of hurt, and if you underestimate him, you’ll be pulling your striker off the board with tweezers.
The man’s got a move called Sweeping Charge, and you already know it’s not subtle. This ability lets him apply damage to everyone he charges through—turning even a simple approach into a mobile meat-grinder.
You thought you were safe behind a screen? Think again. He ploughs through screens like a hawk through wet tissue. This isn’t just disruption, it’s annihilation. Few models in Guild Ball can punish positioning this brutally and this effortlessly.
And the best part? He doesn’t need to score. He knows his job, and that job is body bags.
Here’s the thing though, for all his brutality, Rundaas requires finesse to shine. No, he really does.
Throw him forward unsupported and he’ll get mobbed and melted faster than you can say “misplaced meatwall.” He needs setup. He needs Harrier markers. He needs someone to hand him the scalpel before he turns it into a broadsword.
But when you get it right? When the stars align and you deliver Rundaas into the middle of your opponent’s formation like a feathery wrecking ball? Oh, baby. It’s beautiful. Horrifying, but beautiful.
And if you’re smart, you’ll build your tempo around him. He may not be fast, but the fear of Rundaas is faster than any striker alive. He creates zones of denial just by existing. Opponents will move awkwardly, commit too early, or delay activations just to avoid giving him a clean target, and that’s where the rest of your team swoops in.
Rundaas is essential to the Falconers not because he plays their signature hit and run game, but because he completes them. Without him, they’re a pack of screaming birds. With him, they’re a hunting unit. Minerva plans, Mataagi marks, Ikaros flies, and Rundaas finishes. It’s a well balanced meal of misery and Rundaas is the steak.
He’s also a walking bluff. Sometimes you just park him near a scrum, don’t activate, and watch your opponent panic. It’s psychological warfare, and Rundaas plays it by standing still and looking like a threat made of bricks and birdcalls.
So should you field Rundass. If you don’t, you’re leaving damage and presence on the table. He’s not flashy. He’s not clever. But he does something no other Falconer can, he holds ground.
Field Rundaas if you want to punish bad placement. Field him if you like the idea of rolling a six-pack of blunt trauma into midfield. Field him because sometimes, the best answer to a tricky problem is a big lad with a bad attitude and talons for days.
He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t fly.
He hurts things.
And frankly, that’s what makes Rundaas beautiful.
And now you know all about him and how he fits into the team I’m going to wrap things up for this week’s weekly waffle. I will be back next week, probably with more Guild Ball. Until then I hope you all keep safe and that the hobby gods shine on whatever you have planned.
