Into the Woods...

...A Silver Bayonet Solo Scenario.

As the long summer holiday comes crashing to an end I decided to spend the last couple of days working through the first solo mission for The Silver Bayonet, the Wolf Pack. Now from the outset I should stress that I find playing any new game initially overwhelming. I seem to struggle with the amount of numbers be they modifiers or character stats and can often feel myself becoming incredibly agitated when constantly having to stop and check something in the rules. Given that I have spent an inordinate amount of time painting miniatures and creating terrain I do find this hard to come to terms with. Then there is the nagging thought in the back of my mind that I should be somehow documenting this encounter, perhaps to share on this most humblest of weblogs. However taking photographs only adds to the stop, start nature that I am desperately trying to avoid. Anyway, I stuck with it and played the scenario twice, slowly learning from my mistakes and becoming more familiar with the rules. I can see why they are so popular as they naturally build in intensity and I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know the characters that I have invested time in creating. As the Saintly Mrs. Awdry was out playing golf, I took the opportunity to dictate each turn into my phone and as I become more confident in what I was doing I started to notice that the narrative was becoming more involved. I have now spent some time tidying up the commentary, making sure that the odd misheard phrase is corrected and sprinkled in some stardust to help enhance the atmosphere. The result is, I hope, a more enjoyable retelling, more as a story as opposed to a roll by roll account. There is nothing new in this, but it was something that I was keen to try for myself. I should stress that I went back and set up the photographs at a later date, taking a little more time with their composition to serve as illustrations for the piece rather than documentary evidence that would only have continued to slow the pace of the adventure. So presented below is the first scenario, the introduction to which owes more than an nod to the original author, Joseph A. McCullough...

***

Scenario One: The Wolf Pack

Two weeks earlier, a specialist unit had disappeared in the depths of the forest.  Their orders had been simple enough, find the lost chapel, investigate the surrounding area and report back; yet the patrol had never returned.  Now Captain Jim Blunt and his small band had been sent to follow their trail; to discover the fate of the missing men and, if possible, to recover their orders before they fell into enemy hands.

For three days they had followed the tracks deeper into the woods. The trail itself proved surprisingly easy to follow. The previous expedition had left a clear path through the undergrowth and there had been little rain to wash away the evidence of their passing.  With every mile, however, the forest seemed to close around them.  By the third evening, the light was already beginning to fail when they came upon a scene of utter carnage; they had found the missing unit, or at least, what was left of it.

Before anyone could investigate further, a howl echoed through the trees. It was answered by another, then another. The sound seemed to come from every direction.  In the gathering darkness, bright eyes began to appear amongst the trees; the wolves had found them.

Turn 1

Lt. Johnny Elton, known to his companions as The Rocket Man, wasted little time.  Leading from the front, he pushed ahead and quickly reached the first object half concealed amongst the undergrowth. The clue proved to be the Queen of Spades; a silver knife, perhaps not the most dramatic discovery, but a most welcome one nonetheless.  Johnny was already carrying silver shot and the addition of a silver blade meant that he was now rather well equipped for whatever unpleasantness the forest intended to offer.

Phil McCracken was rather more cautious.  He edged forward, musket at the ready, when a rustle in the trees brought him up sharply.  Turning towards the sound, he caught sight of a Dark Wolf moving through the shadows at the very edge of his range.  Phil steadied himself, the shot rang out.  The wolf yelped as the ball struck home, disappearing briefly into the undergrowth, badly wounded but very much alive.

Myfanwy moved forward to join Phil and Johnny, whilst Ben Doon came around a low rise in the ground and immediately spotted another of the creatures.  He brought his musket to his shoulder and fired.  This time there was no need for a second shot as the wolf collapsed where it stood.  Then the moon broke through the clouds and a long, chilling howl pierced the night. Something much larger moved amongst the trees; a werewolf had entered the hunt.

Almost simultaneously, another Dark Wolf burst from the bushes and hurled itself directly at Johnny. Teeth and claws flashed in the moonlight as the creature drove him backwards.  Somehow, Johnny held his ground, keeping the beast at bay, but when the opportunity came to strike back, his soldierly instincts appeared to abandon him completely.  Johnny swung, but missed.  The wolf lunged and Johnny dodged; for the moment, the two remained locked in combat.

Captain Blunt decided that it was time to intervene.  Raising his trusted Baker rifle, he took aim at the nearest Dark Wolf. His first attempt was poor, but a second, more determined effort proved considerably more successful.  The shot smashed through the animal's ribs, leaving it grievously wounded.

Lord Byron, the unit's Supernatural Investigator, followed his Captain's example.  Unfortunately, his pistol shot disappeared harmlessly into a nearby tree.  The wolf, however, was not to enjoy its good fortune for long as Dr. ‘Saw Bones' McCoy calmly removed his pistol from its holster, took careful aim and shot the wounded creature squarely between the eyes.  He lowered the pistol, muttered, “He’s dead, Jim” and continued on his way.

Between the two groups stood Conor McLeod, the Highlander drew his mighty claymore and strode deliberately into the open, his sporran swinging from side to side as he confronted another Dark Wolf; it was difficult to decide which of the two appeared more alarmed.  In the distance, more howling began, the pack was gathering.

Turn 2

Lt. Johnny Elton was still engaged in his private struggle with the wolf when he finally regained his composure.  This time his strike was decisive and the beast fell, and Johnny, breathing heavily from the exertion, withdrew to form a second line behind McLeod.

The Highlander, meanwhile, was already advancing.  Directly ahead lay another clue marker and, beyond it, another snarling wolf. McLeod reached the object first and uncovered the Jack of Spades; a silver Saint's medallion, a very welcome discovery.  The medallion promised further protection against the unnatural creatures now stalking the party, and the company needed all the assistance it could find.

Ben Doon looked up from reloading his musket and saw the great Highlander striding forward. Inspired, perhaps unwisely, by the sight, Ben advanced to confront the wolf before him.  His bayonet struck home and the wound it caused was a serious one, but the wolf's response was immediate and ferocious.  It hurled itself upon Ben, forcing him backwards and leaving him badly mauled.

Phil saw his mess mate fall back, bleeding heavily and immediately began moving towards him.  Before he could arrive, however, the wounded wolf chose a new opponent.  It charged McLeod, but the Highlander stood his ground.  Just as the wolf attacked, McLeod swung the enormous claymore crashing it down and the creature collapsed at his feet.

No sooner had the Highlander dispatched one wolf than another burst from cover and launched itself at Captain Blunt.  Savage claws searched for his throat, but Jim held firm.  The rifleman forced the creature back and struck it hard, leaving it barely clinging to life.  Jim then advanced to finish the job and with a quick, flashing strike, the wolf was dispatched.  Whether he was then entirely entitled to reload his rifle in the manner he did remained a question for another day.  The important thing, for the moment, was that the wolf was dead and Jim was not.

Elsewhere, Lord Byron noticed a glint in the undergrowth, the King of Spades; a bag of silver shot.  Under normal circumstances, this would have been a fortunate discovery, but given that a werewolf was now roaming the forest, it seemed almost providential.

Dr. McCoy moved towards the wounded Ben, hoping to be close enough to treat him at the next opportunity and for a brief moment, the situation appeared almost manageable.  Two clues had been investigated with one corner of the forest clear of wolves.  Yet, that fleeting sense of victory bred a dangerous hubris, masking the growls echoing from the shadows ahead.  Another werewolf appeared; the creature threw back its head and howled at the moon.  Two of the great beasts were now abroad.

Ben was seriously wounded and the wolves were closing in and the remaining clues, including the missing orders, lay somewhere on the far side of the board.  The company would have to fight their way through the forest.

Byron decided that there was no time to waste and loading his pistol with silver shot, he stepped forward to confront one of the werewolves. He raised his weapon and fired.  The shot was magnificent, the silver ball struck the creature with devastating force, tearing through its supernatural defences and leaving the huge beast almost destroyed.

The werewolf looked back at Byron, Byron looked down at his empty pistol. There was, perhaps, a brief moment when neither was entirely certain what should happen next. Johnny Elton attempted to assist, but his own shot whistled harmlessly past the creature's ear startling an owl that was watching the adventure unfold. Captain Blunt, meanwhile, had spotted another wolf closing in on his companions. His rifle cracked and the creature dropped immediately at their feet. Jim then moved forward, placing himself between his friends and the advancing werewolf.

Ben, bleeding and exhausted, limped towards the Doctor; he had survived the first onslaught, but only just.

Turn 3

The forest had become a place of howls, musket smoke and flashing steel.  One of the werewolves advanced purposefully towards Captain Blunt.  Jim met it head on and as tooth and claw clashed against his great sword the two struggled in the darkness.  Jim held firm, but neither combatant could gain the advantage and they remained locked together.

Lord Byron's difficulties were rather more immediate.  A Dark Wolf suddenly burst from cover and crashed into him, leaving the Supernatural Investigator badly wounded.  With only the narrowest margin between survival and disaster, Byron struck back, his fencing blade flashed and the wolf fell.

Myfanwy now moved towards another of the clue markers, manipulating the strange currents of fate that surrounded the encounter. The distinction between exactly how these powers should operate in a solo expedition would become clearer later; for the moment, everyone involved was simply grateful for any assistance they could get.

Dr. McCoy finally reached Ben and began tending to his wounds.  McLeod strode towards the second werewolf, determined to finish what he had begun. Drawing back his blood soaked claymore, he struck.  The great beast gave one final howl to the moon before collapsing.

Phil McCracken, seeing the Doctor and Myfanwy moving towards the next clue, hurried after them; there was still work to be done.  The trees seemed to gather behind them, swallowing the smoke from their muskets and concealing whatever still moved amongst the shadows.

Turn 4

Captain Blunt and the remaining werewolf were still standing toe to toe.  This time Jim had the advantage, his silver blade flashed repeatedly in the darkness and, after a desperate exchange, the werewolf finally fell.  The immediate danger around him removed, Jim began moving back towards the rest of the party.  Lord Byron also withdrew, reloading one of his pistols.  Johnny did the same, strengthening the group's defensive position and preparing for whatever came next.  Ben Doon, still feeling the effects of his earlier mauling, took aim at a wolf following through the trees; the shot went wide.

The wolves, however, were not yet finished with Captain Blunt.  The first creature charged him and was swiftly dispatched.  A second immediately followed, but this one proved rather more dangerous.  The wolf's attack left Jim reeling, badly wounded and in no position to take another, similar blow.  Nevertheless, the brave Captain fought back furiously, finally dispatching the creature and sending it to whatever particularly unpleasant corner of Hell had been set aside for werewolves and their smaller cousins.

Two wolves now emerged from the gloom and began moving towards the smaller group of stragglers; they had smelt blood and they were coming closer.  Myfanwy and Phil pressed on towards the next clue, whilst Dr. McCoy tended to Byron's wounds.  McLeod turned back towards the others, once again assuming his increasingly familiar role as a very large Scottish defensive wall.

Another wolf appeared at the far side of the forest, fortunately, it was some distance away, for the moment.

Then Myfanwy reached the next marker, the Ten of Spades, an ornate silver ramrod.  Useful, certainly, but not the missing orders; the search continued.  Phil McCracken, sensing the urgency of the situation, moved ahead.  Ben and Lord Byron reloaded their weapons and followed him, whilst the remaining wolves circled through the trees.  The party was moving forward again, but Myfanwy had become isolated.  For the moment she was safe, but in this forest, however, that could change very quickly.

Turn 5

Phil McCracken saw something in a thicket ahead and moved towards it quickly. There, half concealed beneath the branches, were the missing orders. At last, the mission was complete! For the first time since entering the forest, escape seemed possible. The woods, however, had not finished with them yet. Myfanwy immediately made for the edge of the forest and was the first to reach safety. Lt. Johnny Elton and Dr. McCoy followed, although the Doctor paused briefly to tend once more to Ben before continuing his retreat.

The remaining group had stayed in the forest just a moment too long, a wolf came crashing into the rear of Lord Byron. Caught by surprise, the Supernatural Investigator nevertheless recovered quickly. His fencing weapon parried the creature's attack before he struck back, leaving the wolf barely alive. A second wolf followed and again Byron defended himself, pushing the beast back and leaving it badly wounded.

Ben Doon now stepped forward, taking careful aim, he fired at the wolf threatening the retreating party. The shot was devastating and the creature disappeared from the fight and the path towards safety was suddenly clear. Perhaps, at last, the forest was beginning to release them. Byron, Jim and McLeod turned and ran for the edge of the table, behind them, the howling continued.

Turn 6

Only three members of the party remained to activate in the first phase of the retreat.  Johnny Elton disappeared from the forest to join Myfanwy.  Phil McCracken hurried forward to join Ben, who stood guard near the edge, musket reloaded and ready to assist any of his comrades who emerged from the trees.  Behind them, the rearguard was still fighting.

A Dark Wolf charged McLeod, but the great Scotsman turned, brought his claymore around and removed the creature's head with considerable efficiency.  He barely had time to appreciate his handiwork before another wolf attacked.  This one failed to capitalise on the surprise, but McLeod also missed his mark and the two remained locked together.

Elsewhere, the final wolf charged Captain Blunt. Jim turned and blocked the attack, but his response did little more than wound the creature. Neither he nor McLeod had yet escaped. From the edge of the forest, the rest of the company could hear the fighting but see little through the trees. All they could do was wait and hope. Mercifully, the next strange turn of fate brought no fresh disaster with no more wolves appearing in the forest; at this stage, nobody was inclined to complain.

Turn 7

McLeod was still fighting, the wolf came at him once more.  This time the Highlander struck first and the creature fell leaving McLeod to begin  his final, weary withdrawal from the forest.  Ben Doon and Phil McCracken put their arms around each other and, apparently finding something enormously amusing that nobody else had witnessed, chortled quietly as they stepped from danger.

Dr. McCoy checked his bag, presumably ensuring that all his medical supplies were in order before making his own escape leaving only Jim remaining in serious danger.  The final wolf came for him, had it developed a personal grievance?  The creature hurled itself at the Captain, slashing and biting with renewed fury, Jim was left reeling from the attack.

There was, admittedly, some later discussion regarding precisely how many wounds Captain Blunt ought already to have been carrying at this point. Certain records suggest that the situation may have been somewhat more serious than first realised.  Nevertheless, in the interests of allowing the expedition to continue, the Captain fought on.

Jim struck back, driving the wolf away and leaving it clinging to life.  Then came his opportunity.  He raised his rifle calmly to his shoulder with the wounded creature only a short distance away.  Jim fired and the wolf fell.  At last, the rifleman turned, glanced back briefly and staggered from the forest to join the others.  Behind him, the forest grew quiet once more, for now.

***

And so ended the first expedition. The missing orders had been recovered, nobody had been permanently inconvenienced and the newly formed band had discovered that the forests of whatever benighted corner of Europe they currently occupied contained an entirely unreasonable number of wolves. More importantly, their commander had learnt a little about the rules, their chronicler had learnt that photographs need not be taken in the middle of the action and Captain Blunt had developed what can only be described as an unhealthy relationship with the local wildlife.

A Circle of Stone, A Circle of Ideas

With the inevitable return to work now looming on the horizon, A-Level results due to be published this week and all the various preparations for the new academic year beginning to make their presence felt, I was keen to squeeze in one more post before the balance of time inevitably shifts back towards work.  For this offering in the 'Season of Scenery', I thought I would share one of the more unusual pieces of terrain I have built for The Silver Bayonet; unusual not so much because of what it is, but because of how it came about.

A little explanation is required here.  There has been much discussion in schools recently about the use of Artificial Intelligence, and I have been sufficiently intrigued by the possibilities to wonder whether it might have a place in my own creative process. Rather than asking it to write a lesson plan or mark a set of essays, I thought I would try something considerably more interesting.  I opened ChatGPT and asked,

 

“I am currently playing Joseph A. McCullough's The Silver Bayonet and I need to design some terrain. I am looking for ideas for spooky rock formations or other related items that I could build. Can you help?”

What followed was, to my surprise, a genuinely exciting creative exchange.  Ideas were thrown backwards and forwards; some were mine, some were suggested by the machine and quite a few of the more extravagant proposals were quietly ushered towards the door.  There was a certain amount of discussion about what would actually work on a gaming table, what could realistically be built and, importantly, what might still look as though it had come from Awdry Towers rather than a computer.

Eventually we settled upon the idea of an ancient stone circle; tall, weathered stones, cracked and fallen in places, with a liberal sprinkling of Gothic horror and enough sinister detail to suggest that perhaps this was not somewhere sensible people should be wandering around after dark.  And then I had a thought.  Could we take these ideas and turn them into something that could actually be 3D printed?

I have been experimenting with a Bambu Lab A1 for about a year now and have enjoyed some modest success; I am still very much in the foothills of the learning curve, but the possibility of taking an idea from a conversation and eventually producing something physical was rather appealing.  So I asked another question, 

"Could ChatGPT help me create some spooky terrain STLs?"  

The initial answer was encouraging.  There was a brief misunderstanding which resulted in links to existing stone circle files, but eventually the conversation moved towards creating something from scratch.  Suggestions became more detailed, the design evolved and, eventually, I was presented with what appeared to be the next stage of the process; code that I could supposedly use to generate the STL files.  This, best beloved, is where matters became somewhat less straightforward.  What I had envisaged as ancient, vine covered rocks with deep fissures and an appropriately sinister appearance initially emerged as six rather immaculate columns; something, clearly, had gone rather awry.

There followed a reassuring exchange about design modifications and adjustments; I was encouraged to leave the process to do its work and return later when my wonderfully detailed STL files would, presumably, be ready.  I returned, nothing.  More questions were asked, more code was produced, more increasingly elaborate solutions were suggested.  Before long I found myself being led rather further into the depths of my laptop than I had originally intended, altering settings and contemplating processes that were beginning to feel suspiciously like actual computer programming.  I was becoming increasingly sceptical, but more importantly, I was becoming increasingly nervous.  Eventually I drew a line under the experiment and asked the question which, in retrospect, I probably should have asked considerably earlier, 

“Is it possible that you are unable to do this?”

There was, I confess, a certain amount of face saving, but ultimately the answer was yes. The parameters of what was possible within the process meant that it could not actually produce the object I had been imagining and yet, somewhat unexpectedly, I didn't feel that the experiment had failed.  By this point I had invested quite a bit of time in the conversation and, perhaps more importantly, there had been a genuinely creative exchange of ideas.  So I changed tack and simply asked for a visualisation of some of the things we had discussed.  The result was a wonderfully Gothic image which immediately gave me something far more useful than another piece of computer code, it gave me an idea I could build.

And so, somewhat inevitably, I returned to the painting table.  The construction itself was wonderfully straightforward. Great chunks of offcut blue foam were hewn to shape and arranged upon an MDF base; the base itself was deliberately cut to an organic outline and its edges bevelled to help it disappear into the tabletop.

I had seen people use crumpled aluminium foil to create convincing rock textures and thought I would give it a try.  It works remarkably well, although I discovered that achieving the desired texture requires rather more force than one might initially expect.  The foam was then carved, battered and textured until the smooth manufactured surface had been persuaded to look considerably more geological.

The stones themselves became the main focus. Cracks and fissures were cut into them and I added a selection of mysterious sigils and devices, not so much to explain what had happened here as to encourage wonder as to what might have happened.

The whole piece was conceived as blocking line of sight, but with access provided by some foam steps could also act as a vantage point.  A simple flagstone area echoed the original visualisation, but I wanted it to feel like a place that had been used for some purpose long before our intrepid troops arrived; somewhere that had accumulated offerings, rituals and perhaps the occasional unfortunate visitor.  Naturally this meant another raid on the bits box.  Weapons, tools, skulls and assorted other detritus were scattered around the stones; little offerings left behind as some form of tribute to whatever gods, spirits or other malign entities might have been worshipped here.

There was also an opportunity to return to an old favourite; hairy wool.  Carefully teased out and attached around the bases of the stones, the fibres make surprisingly convincing roots and creeping vegetation.  Once painted and combined with clump foliage, they help to tie the stones into the surrounding landscape and give the whole thing the appearance of having been sitting here, undisturbed, for considerably longer than is probably healthy.

Painting was, as usual, a mixture of familiar colours and experimentation; browns for the earth, greys for the stones, because, obviously, all rocks are grey.  It was at this point that the rather stark shapes began to disappear and the individual elements started to become a single piece of terrain. Weathering, scattered vegetation, stones, fragments and the occasional unsettling artefact all helped to tell the story.

And there it is.  A piece of terrain which began as a conversation, became a slightly alarming experiment in computer generated geometry, wandered briefly into the mysterious world of code and file generation, and eventually found its way back to where such things belong; on the painting table, surrounded by scraps of foam, bits from the box and a rather unhealthy enthusiasm for Gothic horror.

This wasn't quite what I had in mind when I started thinking about using AI to assist with creativity, but I rather like it.  The machine provided the conversation and, eventually, the image; the rest was left to me.

Show Boat

One of the unexpected pleasures of Dave Stone's ‘Season of Scenery’ has been rediscovering all those curious little projects that have been quietly gathering dust whilst patiently waiting for their turn upon the painting table. Some are sensible, some are practical, but this, I'm afraid, is neither.  Indeed, for my next contribution I present what can only be described as a complete show boat in every sense of the phrase.

One of the scenarios in The Silver Bayonet, Troll Bridge, requires a boat to be stranded across the river complete with a swivel gun that suitably qualified members of your patrol may attempt to operate. Quite why someone thought mounting artillery aboard a half wrecked boat was an excellent military decision is perhaps a question best left to the author, but this being The Silver Bayonet, where absurdity and Gothic horror have always enjoyed being rather comfortable bedfellows, naturally, I found myself wondering just how theatrical such a piece of scenery could become?

My starting point was a 'Sarissa Precision' excellent MDF Boat Wreck. I had originally purchased the kit whilst entertaining vague ambitions of one day staging a Dracula Comes to Hastings scenario, but alas the project never progressed beyond idle daydreaming.  Happily, the abandoned boat proved to be exactly what this build required.  The kit itself is rather lovely; a weather beaten and decaying fishing boat with exposed ribs, shattered planking and its own scenic base.  It already possessed that wonderfully Gothic atmosphere which The Silver Bayonet seems to thrive upon, the only slight complication was the small matter of mounting the swivel gun.

As the boat lists dramatically to one side, simply placing a cannon inside looked rather precarious. Instead, somewhere during an evening's quiet contemplation or perhaps mild delirium given the stifling heat, the notion occurred to construct a crude firing platform from rough timber planking spanning the damaged hull.  It is, by any objective military standard, utterly preposterous, which naturally meant I had to build it.  The gun itself came from ‘Actual Size Miniatures’, a delightful little resin print that deserved something rather more substantial than simply being glued to the floorboards.  A framework of scored plastic strip became a rough wooden carriage before strips of balsa completed the makeshift deck.  Once that central idea had taken hold, the rest almost seemed to build itself.

Resin barrels were cut it half and sunk into the muddy riverbank. Loose cannonballs and broken planks suggested a hasty abandonment, whilst yet more skulls and debris quietly hinted that the previous crew had met with an end that was less than entirely voluntary.  One of my favourite little additions was the creeping vegetation.  Returning to a favourite technique, I used hairy wool teased apart strand by strand to produce climbing vines before adding clump foliage to create patches of moss clinging to the damp timber. It's a surprisingly simple technique but one that works remarkably well once painted.

There was even an opportunity to revisit my old friend, UV resin.  This time, perhaps mindful of previous adventures, I approached the process with rather more caution, using it sparingly to create puddles, damp patches and little pools trapped amongst the wreckage. A quick flash from the UV torch and suddenly the whole scene acquired that permanently wet appearance that one imagines accompanies anything left beside a gloomy river for too long.

As a finished piece it is gloriously impractical and I suspect it will spend far more time being admired than actually influencing the outcome of a game, but I rather like that and look forward to seeing it on the table.

French Leave

Today's contribution to Dave's ‘Season of Scenery’ is a modest affair, though perhaps no less useful for that; this time a wrecked French baggage wagon. Before building this little wagon I confess I knew remarkably little about French military transport. Like so many things connected with Napoleon's armies, however, it turns out there was rather more thought behind it than first appears. The Gribeauval system is usually remembered for revolutionising French artillery, introducing standardised guns, limbers and equipment that were lighter, more mobile and considerably easier to maintain in the field. Less celebrated, though no less important, was the influence this standardisation had upon the army's wagons and logistics. Uniform dimensions, interchangeable parts and carefully organised transport meant Napoleon's armies could often march further and faster than their opponents; a rather useful quality when one has ambitions of conquering Europe!

This offering began life as 'Warbases' excellent French Baggage Wagon No. 2, found amongst their Napoleonic carts and limbers range. Rather than building it as intended, I fancied turning it into something a little more theatrical; an abandoned wagon that might serve equally well as an objective marker, an encounter piece or simply a little storytelling vignette on the tabletop.

The conversion itself was thankfully straightforward. A couple of broken wheels, the wagon deliberately canted over at an awkward angle and the unfortunate accident of a shattered tongue, which I quietly replaced with plastic strip before pretending it had always been part of the plan, immediately suggested a vehicle abandoned in considerable haste. Mounted upon one of 'Warbases' scenic pond bases, together with scattered crates, discarded equipment and just enough skulls and opportunistic crows to remind everyone that this is The Silver Bayonet, the whole thing came together rather more quickly than expected.

Looking at it now, I rather like to imagine the story behind it. Was it abandoned by fleeing soldiers? Did the horses bolt? Or did something emerge from the surrounding woods that persuaded the escort to leave everything exactly where it lay? Happily, the answer can change with every game.  This also goes someway to explaining just how remarkably clean it is too.  A fun little piece to do, great value for money and  useful objective marker to have in the game.

A Scene of Utter Carnage

Having finally reached that most anticipated juncture in the academic year, the long summer holiday, my thoughts naturally turn to slowing the pace a little. There are, of course, the inevitable jobs left upon one's bureau by the Saintly Mrs. Awdry, friends and family to catch up with, and, if fortune smiles kindly, the occasional pint of properly cloudy English cider to enjoy in a shady corner of the garden. For me though, the summer has always meant something else; it is a chance to disappear into my lair for a few uninterrupted hours and indulge in this most wholesome of hobbies.

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.

Fortunately, Dave Stone over at 'Wargames Terrain Workshop' has launched another 'Season of Scenery', and that proved exactly the excuse I needed.  Terrain has always held a particular fascination for me.  Miniatures may tell the story, but scenery provides the stage upon which that story unfolds. It allows one to scratch that creative itch in a rather different way, adding little details that perhaps only the builder ever notices but which somehow breathe life into the tabletop.  With The Silver Bayonet featuring heavily in my summer gaming plans, I thought this might be the perfect opportunity to revisit a few long neglected projects.

Now, in the interests of complete honesty, I should probably confess that several of the pieces I intend to share have been languishing on the shelf of shame for rather longer than Dave perhaps envisaged when he announced the challenge. I have therefore interpreted the rules with all the flexibility of a Victorian politician, adding the odd tuft of static grass here and there before confidently declaring the project 'finished'.*

*I trust you will keep this confession strictly between ourselves.

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.

In one final acknowledgement, I should add that the bases are from the ever reliable 'Warbases' and are listed as Terrain, Objective and MacGuffin bases.  These are the 2mm thick options and work perfectly for these little flights of fancy. 

Five Million Page Views!

At some point last week, 28mm Victorian Warfare passed the rather astonishing milestone of 5,000,000 page views.  Now, if I'm entirely honest, page views don't quite carry the significance they once did. There was a time when I would check the counter with almost comical regularity, convinced that every refresh somehow validated my latest ramblings.  Inevitably, I suspect I contributed rather more to the total than was strictly necessary!  Nowadays, with bots happily trawling the internet and mysterious visitors appearing from every corner of the globe, the number itself is perhaps a rather blunt instrument; even so... five million is still five million.

More importantly, though, this cozy corner of the Blogosphere has never really been about statistics. It has always been somewhere to record projects, celebrate successes, confess failures, more recently involving superglue or Milliput, and occasionally persuade perfectly sensible people that peanuts are a legitimate modelling material.  What continues to amaze me is the company it has kept.

Over the years I've had the privilege of corresponding with hobbyists from all over the world. Many have become familiar names in the comments, several have become genuine friends and all have helped make this hobby richer, kinder and considerably more enjoyable than it would ever have been sat alone at the painting table.

The recent Forgotten Heroes challenge reminded me of exactly that. Whilst I was delighted with how Captain Caveman eventually emerged from his peanut shell, the real joy came from the conversations it sparked and the encouragement shared throughout the month. It reminded me that blogs still have something rather special to offer in an age of fleeting social media posts.

So whether you've been following along since my earlier Victorian campaigns first marched onto the table, discovered the blog through a fondness for obscure cartoons, or simply dropped in looking for scenery ideas before deciding to stay awhile, thank you.

Five million views is a pleasing statistic, but the friendships are the part that truly matters.  Here's to whatever absurdity finds its way onto the workbench next.

Every Journey Needs Somewhere to End

Season 10, Episode 7

If I am entirely honest, I was not at all sure that this final post was going to happen. June has rather galloped past in the manner of an escaped cavalry charger and whilst Forgotten Heroes itself draws to a close, work, travel and the general business of real life have conspired to leave precious little time at the hobby desk. The irony, of course, is that this has been one of the most enjoyable hobby months I have experienced in many years. There have been peanuts, there has been sculpting, there has been resin and there has even been language that would certainly have caused my late Grandmother to raise an eyebrow. Most importantly, however, there has been friendship.

One of the genuine pleasures of taking part in Forgotten Heroes has been reconnecting with old friends, discovering new projects and being reminded exactly why this particularly cosy corner of the blogosphere is so special. To Jez and Roger, whose continued enthusiasm keeps this splendid enterprise alive year after year, I owe a considerable debt of thanks. Without their efforts I rather suspect Captain Caveman would still be little more than an optimistic peanut sitting on a supermarket shelf.

Yet there remained one final task.  Captain Caveman himself had yet to make his formal appearance and no self-respecting prehistoric superhero can simply be left standing alone upon a gaming table; he requires a home and naturally that home sits atop the roof of a van.  The Teen Angels, as readers of a certain age will doubtless remember, travelled in a somewhat distinctive vehicle which served much the same purpose as the Mystery Machine, Mystery Incorporated's trusty van. This presented an obvious opportunity, namely the construction of Cavey's rooftop cave.  What could possibly go wrong?

Quite a lot, as it happens.  After a little searching I discovered a suitable STL file on the Crooked Dice website which appeared promising enough. At £6 it seemed worth the risk and after all, what is Forgotten Heroes if not an opportunity to make questionable purchasing decisions? Or is that just me?  Unfortunately the model appeared rather more suited to resin printing than my own somewhat agricultural FDM printer and the initial attempts were, to be charitable, deeply disappointing.

At this point I once again sought the wisdom of the estimable Simon Moore, who very kindly pointed out the entirely obvious solution, "turn it upside down."  One occasionally encounters moments in life when another person says something so self-evident that one immediately wonders why one had not thought of it oneself. This was one such occasion and of course, the next print proved vastly more successful.

Knowing that the roof would ultimately disappear beneath Cavey's cave, I was not overly concerned by minor imperfections and so attention turned towards constructing the rocky summit itself. A sheet of plasticard provided the foundation and a quantity of leftover epoxy sculpt was spread across the surface and encouraged into something vaguely resembling the cave seen in the original cartoons.  Rocks were added, texture appeared and optimism returned.

A little textured paste introduced some variation and before long the whole thing began to take on a distinctly prehistoric appearance. At this point the bits box once again came to the rescue. Buried deep amongst decades of accumulated treasures I discovered some forgotten prehistoric trees from Steve Barber Models which, much like Captain Caveman himself, had apparently been waiting patiently for their moment to shine.

The cave itself proved an absolute joy to paint and for a brief and entirely unfamiliar period everything proceeded exactly as planned.  This naturally made me suspicious.  There remained, however, one final detail.  No cave upon the roof of a van can reasonably be accessed by conventional means and so a ladder was required. Two coffee stirrers, split and sanded, provided the uprights whilst small plastic bones were lashed into place with wire and secured with superglue.  It is, I freely admit, completely ridiculous, which is probably why it has become my favourite detail.

As I write this final dispatch the model is still not entirely as completed as far as I would have liked. There remain details to finish, logos to paint and the cave to permanently fix to the wagon.  Yet perhaps there is something rather fitting about that.  Forgotten Heroes has never really been about finishing. It has been about beginning. About rediscovering forgotten characters, rediscovering old enthusiasms and, in my particular case, rediscovering the pleasure of writing and sharing my experiences with this most wholesome of hobbies with friends.

So before the final credits roll, I should like to offer again my sincere thanks to Jez and Roger for once again organising this splendid annual lunacy, and to all those who have taken the time to read, comment and encourage throughout the month.  Your responses to this slightly absurd prehistoric adventure have meant far more than I can properly express.  But what of Cavey, I hear some ask  Surely he must now make his grand entrance. After all, one suspects he has been lurking somewhere in the background all month, glaring through his whiskers and waiting for precisely the right moment to shout:

Captain CAAAAAAAAAVEMAAAAAAAN!