Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Campaign Map

The image below is the mini-campaign map showing an area just off to the north and east of the Hill Cantons proper. Each hex runs five miles across.

The burned out border colony of Trnova is shown on the west side of the map due east from the pass and watchfort leading back into the Overkingdom. Most of the map area resides in the Sea of Grass, a vast steppe of coarse gray-green leafed, purple-veined prairie grass stretching off to greater and greater stretches of the Weird to the east.

Bands of kozaks, smelly horse-lovin' and warlike nomads, maintain two trade camps in the area along an old caravan track. One sits at the feet of an ice-cold, deep-watered lake at the old rounded cone of a massive and presumably extinct volcano.  

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

20mm Nostalgic Revival: Donald Featherstone

20mm Nostalgic Revival: Donald Featherstone: The Father of UK Wargaming is 94 years young around this time, many congrats to him, his books got me started way back in the mists of t...



In peace there’s nothing so becomes a wargamer

as modest stillness and humility;

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

then imitate the action of the tiger;

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,

disguise fair nature with hard favour’d rage.

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect,

let it pry through the portage of the head

like a brass cannon; let the brow o’whelm it

as fearfully as does a galled rock.

Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide;

hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit

to his full height. On, on, you noble wargamer

whose blood is that of fathers who wrote the rules !

Fathers who, like so many Alexanders,

have at these Conventions from morn ‘till even fought,

and pocketed their dice for lack of argument.

Dishonour not your mothers, for did they not sit

whilst those whom you call fathers painted their armies ?

Feel superior to players with troops in other scales,

and teach them how to wargame. And you, good players,

whose hands were made for wargaming, show us here

the mettle of your army; let us swear

that they are worthy of your painting, which I doubt not;

For there are none of them so mean and base

that hath not noble lustre in your eyes.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,

straining upon the start. The game’s afoot !

Rattle your dice ! And upon the charge

cry ‘God for Scruby! Featherstone! and HG Wells!’