Quite unexpectedly, I have found myself drawn back towards the Crimean War. Half finished regiments of Foot Guards have emerged blinking from their storage boxes, Heavy Cavalry have begun assembling in earnest and, rather alarmingly, Horse Artillery has started unlimbering on the painting desk. Yes, best beloved, it would seem that Awdry Towers has returned to the Crimea of 1853. I suspect this particular diversion deserves a post entirely of its own, chiefly so that I may publicly lay responsibility at the polished boots of one Paul O'Grady Esq., whose recent exploits have proved far too persuasive for a chap whose willpower has never been especially robust, but that tale can wait. Suffice it to say, the painting table presently resembles the Ordnance Wharf at Balaklava and, whilst progress is steady, there are only so many photographs of scarlet clad infantry one can reasonably inflict upon polite society.
Instead, I found myself thinking back to June. One of the unexpected pleasures of the Forgotten Heroes month was not simply building Captain Caveman and his increasingly improbable entourage, but reconnecting with so many old friends around the blogging community. There was something rather comforting about checking in each morning to discover what everyone else had been creating; it seemed a terrible waste to let that momentum disappear.
The first pieces are a ruined encampment together with a handful of corpse tokens. One of the things I love most about The Silver Bayonet is its wonderfully Gothic atmosphere. I wanted players to feel that their patrol was venturing ever deeper into hostile territory in search of a missing unit, only to stumble across unmistakable evidence that something unspeakable had already passed this way.
The tents became the heart of the project and rather than sculpting them, I opted for wet-strength tissue, laminated together before stitching actual seams into the material. Tiny punched paper discs became eyelets for the guy ropes, cocktail sticks served as tent poles, paperclips transformed into tent pegs and ordinary thread completed the illusion.
Once pitched exactly like a full sized canvas tent, they were carefully collapsed and the whole assembly received an airbrushed canvas basecoat before slowly being weathered and detailed. Look closely and you'll notice deliberate tears slashed through the fabric. Those, naturally, received rather more attention with the blood effects than was truly necessary, but this is Gothic Horror after all.
The accompanying corpse tokens came together from little more than a raid on the bits box with plastic skeletons, discarded Napoleonic British sprues, Green Stuff, and a somewhat unhealthy amount of artistic licence.
Torn uniforms, exposed ribs and the occasional protruding intestine hint at a grisly fate, whilst a few opportunistic crows from North Star have already begun claiming the battlefield as their own. They're decidedly unpleasant little vignettes, which is, I suppose, entirely the point. Hopefully they'll add just the right amount of foreboding before the first shots are fired.











Excellent work on both the ruined tents, and corpse tokens Michael, very evocative. You have interpreted the rules perfectly, as it's all about getting scenery finished, even if it just needs flocking ! LOL
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