I am that exact type of person that plans annual holidays using the Ordance Survey maps of Ancient and Roman Britain. I spend days hiking through the remote countryside in the rain with a napsack full of boiled eggs to find the spaces prehistoric people once lived and thrived.

Fancying myself as Lord of the Ringforts, Mr. Crabb at Fogou Models offered me the very first castings of his latest terrain project in return for photos of them painted nicely. And paint them I did.

This is the basic ringfort, built from seven wall sections and one gate section. All the pieces have an interlocking brickwork design on the outer face to disguise the component joins. I don’t know how Mr. Crabb got it all to line up so flawlessly, but I suspect dark Cornish sorcery.

If that understated rectangular doorway with its stone lintel are too low key for you, there’s also a fantasy style gateway with a pair of towers flanking a bronze goblin-faced gate sculpted by the Kev Adams. Now you can have much larger things get in and out the fort – like trolls, ogres and my reference library on prehistoric and Dark Age structures.

To accompany the ringfort, I also painted this pair of thatched buildings which can either go inside the fort as the defended structures, or act as standalone pieces. I’m going to pair the recentangular one with my Dark Age Church as a crofter’s dwelling.

But wait! There’s still more! There’s a nice pair of thatched stilted granaries, a pigsty, a well, firewood and pots that I’ve used to make a complete village.

I got a bit carried away painting freehand patterns onto some of the pots – I like to imagine them as vessels with histories of their own that come from the extensive trade networks. I also see them as a nice way of adding life to a scene, and they make for subtler representations of material wealth than the classic objective marker of a treasure chest full of gold coins.

There’s a desstroyed wall section you can use to represent a partially ruined fort, and even switch into your fort mid-game if you’re playing a siege.

Here’s a pile of Orcs pouring through it to fight the Fellowship of the Ring.

Stone buildings are pretty timeless, and with a bit of “set dressing” in the form of modern crates, here it is being used in the Napoleonic era.

Nicely, the doors are cross-compatible with the other Fogou offerings, so a quick switcheroo and this fort section is ready for science fiction wargames too. Thanks to everyone that’s pointed out the door looks like a Confederate flag.

Finally, my cat (who is coincidentally named after a ringfort) has also found a great use for the piece.

So thanks to Mr. Crabb for letting me be the first to get one! If you’d like your own, they’re currently over on Kickstarter and will be added to the Fogou Models site in the future.

Ninjabread out!

I ni ce Ninjabread readers. Fogou Models recently sent me advanced castings of their brand new mud hut range, on the condition I sent them back painted photographs for their Kickstarter. And now I have an entire mud hut village to play games over.

I imagined my buildings as a Dogon village at the time of the Arab Conquest, as that’s the period I want to game in. But I kept the paint scheme neutral so that with a tactical choice of accessories I can pass the buildings off as coming from the Pre-Pottery Neolithic B era, the Tunisian campaign in World War 2 and ANY POINT IN THE INTERVENING TEN-THOUSAND YEARS OF HUMAN HISTORY.

If the giddying versatility of mud huts through history is simply not enough for you, the buildings can slip into a similarly vast array of fantasy and sci-fi wargame settings. Oldhammer peers axiom and asslessman both science-fictioned up their advance castings with all sorts of greebles transgressing the historical wargamer’s sensibilities. Rather than stare on enviously, I asked Fogou nicely for another hut that I could spin as a Space Ork adobe.

I had so much fun painting these buildings that even though I’ve blasted through a whole village I’m keen to do more. Maybe fill a whole 6×4′ table and play big games of Warhammer 40,000 Cityfight but in an Ork city rather than the bog standard Imperial one.

The thing that doesn’t come across in these photos is how the kits are designed to be painted super quickly. Assembly is minimal, and they’re moulded in yellow resin that you can drybrush without having to prime or basecoat. You could paint up a whole Dogon village so quickly I begged and begged and begged Fogou to call the project…

Thanks to Fogou for all the buildings! Check out the Kickstarter, which ends this week. K’an bεn!

For two years now I’ve entered a turbo-niche Halloween painting competition where entrants have to paint one piece from Citadel Miniatures’ insanely characterful Night Horrors or Gothic Horror ranges – the two 1980s ranges designed to support Games Workshop’s Call of Cthulhu licence.  As last year I painted one half of the classic Citadel LE3 Gumshoe Detectives duo, Bogart, it seemed only right this year to paint his partner – Cagney.

Bogart and Cagney: 50% Bogart & Bacall, 50% Cagney & Lacey.

Bogart’s moody trenchcoat with upturned collar, one hand in pocket and nonchalant cigarette make him instantly recognisable as a noir detective.  However, Cagney was very much a a man in a plain suit (with a gun).  He could easily be a mistaken for wedding guest (with a gun), a 1970s newsreader (with a gun), or an estate agent (with a gun).  In order to align him with the contest’s theme of REAL ULTIMATE EVIL, I thought I’d plough some effort into the base.  (Actually, an estate agent is pretty close to REAL ULTIMATE EVIL, so maybe I should have gone in that direction.)

Newspapers are a shrinking industry.

The newspaper on the base is a rendition of the Sydney Morning Herald , with the he headline ALERT SUNK is a reference to the Call of Cthulhu story where Cthulhu gets his head rammed over by the steam yacht Alert.  (Thanks for coming up with that idea, Michal.)  I painted the headline as small as I could on a piece of thin card and then cut it out so I didn’t have to worry about the normal freehand space constraints.

With the newspaper done, I figured I’d model the base as Sydney harbourside.  The lapping waves effect were taken from sho3box’s Man O’War Nurgle fleet (thanks sho3y).  I added a Chaos Spawn tentacle to explain why Cagney’s drawn his gun.  With that done, I figure he’s firmly anchored in the lands of Call of Cthulhu investigator.

The dynamic duo at a harbourside warehouse rumoured to be focus of cult activity, while two totally normal stevedores go about their totally normal business.

The LE3 Gumshoe Detectives, while part of the Gothic Horror range, are also part of the numbered limited editions series that Citadel Miniatures pumped out in the late 1980s.  I’d like to paint up all twenty five of the codes, and am planning the LE1 Space Orc soon.

LE2 Space Marine and both LE3 Gumshoe Detectives.

Gotta think what to do for next year’s entry now. The Night Horrors range and Gothic Horrors are chockful of characterful one-off miniatures.  Both detectives were resculpted at least twice for rerelease later in the Gothic Horror range, so I’ll see if I can track down those.  I’m also obsessed by the Doctor Who miniatures that were slightly resculpted and released as Gothic Horror pieces too!  Roll on 2019’s competition!

Cagney came first in the competition, meaning I defended my title from last year.  Congratulations to the other entrants who got their pieces finished to the deadline, and thanks to Ashley for organised the contest – why not join the group on Facebook yourself?

In related news, I won a statuette at Golden Demon this weekend, and I’ll be publishing the stage-by-stage tutorial on Patreon later this week.

This miniature is a mystery – an unreleased Warhammer treasure from the vaults of Citadel Miniatures.  Who is he?  Why have I got (perhaps) the only casting in existence?

Could this be a dark horse on a dark horse?

This casting was a gift from Marcus Ansell of Wargames Foundry (thanks Marcus). The tab (“GENERAL” and “ ©  GW 1987″) shows its provenance as a piece of classic Warhammer – but beyond that everything else is a mystery.  Who sculpted it?  What range was it destined for?  Why was it not released?

“A horse, a horse, my Romano-Germanic kingdom for a horse.”

The vibe of the figure is more historical than fantastical – the moustache, crested helm and scalemail give it a very Romano-Germanic kingdom vibe.  It feels like an Alan or Michael Perry sculpt judging by this face and care put into the armour detailing.  In fact it’s a bit too historically accurate to fit in with Citadel’s F3 Barbarian or F6 Barbarian Raider ranges, or the ADD21 Advanced Dungeons & Dragons mounted barbarian.  The closest thing released by Citadel are the F7 Mounted Barbarian Raiders.

F7 Mounted Barbarian Raiders.  Image from solegends.

The Mounted Barbarian Raiders were released at a time when the line between historical and fantasy figures was blurred, with Warhammer’s Empire, Norse, Bretonnian and Dogs of War ranges doing double-service as various historical Europeans.  It’s conceivable that Citadel had plans for a Warhammer race with a strong Romano-Germanic design elements, and this General was a testpiece.

I gave my General one of the F7 horses as it’s coetaneous, and he deserves a bodyguard of these classics at a future point.  I modelled the horse forward on the raised base so that when the planned regiment ranks up he will ride slightly above and ahead.

Then as I was researching colours a thought struck me.  Is this mystery figure a … Blandford Warrior?  He fits beautifully with the released Blandford Warriors in terms of style and scale.

The 13th (Blandford) Warrior.

The Medieval Warlords book comprises seven chapters each detailing a different warlord, and Games Workshop released miniatures for only six of these characters.  The warlord that appears as a chapter but not a miniature was Genseric – general of one of the most famous Romano-Germanic kingdoms.  I think this figure could be him.

Genseric led the Vandals from the heartlands of the crumbling Roman Empire to Africa and around the Mediterranean region until they stormed Rome itself, looting its treaures. The incident stuck in the West’s poplar imagination, and ever since the word “vandal” has been a byword for destroying property.

Genseric sacked Rome until politely asked to stop it by Pope Leo I, AD455.

I used the Karl Briullov painting above as the basis for my miniature’s colour scheme.  I love the satanically-black horse implying he’s the Pope’s archnemesis – but the menace is rather undermined by the pink leggings and ruby red shoes.

I painted the shield with an Arianist symbol – I’d like to stress this was the form of Christianity that took off in the Romano-Germanic kingdoms and was named after Arius and NOTHING TO DO WITH ARYANISM.  (After all those “arian symbol german” google searches I think I’ve been put on a list.)

Genseric and his bucellarius on the outskirts of Carthage.

Not Genseric.

Regardless of the figure’s true identity, it’s now definitely part of my Late Imperial Roman army and will get some outings in SAGA when I’ve painted enough for a 4-point warband … coming soon.

If you’ve got any theories or information on the figure, please please let me know in the comments.

It’s the end of the line for the Blandford Warriors!  All twelve in this limited series of classic 1988 Citadel Miniatures are now painted and standing alongside each other in the cabinet, jostling for position of most dramatic medieval warlord.

Left to right: Flavius Aetius, Owen of Wales and Vlad Dracula.

The final triumverate are spread across a thousand years of European history.  Let’s take a look at them each in turn.

Flavius Aetius

Chances are you’ve not heard of Aetius, but you’ll have heard of his most famous opponent – Attila the Hun.  Aetius and Attila clashed at the Battle of the Catalaunian Plains in AD451 – one of the greatest bloodsheds as the Western Roman Empire crumbled under the weight of barbarian invaders.  Aetius was supreme commander of all military forces in the west, and crushed the Huns, stopping their advance into Gaul, and ultimately breaking Atilla’s tribal empire – earning him a place in history as the last of the great Romans.

Flavius Aetius and his supporting Blandford Warriors – Alan Horseman and Bucellarius of Majorian – leading the defence of the Empire.

I really enjoyed painting Aetius, and mounted him a small rocky outcrop so he cuts a commanding presence over my Late Imperial Roman.  The mini is at least 20 years older than his rank-and-file counterparts, so he needs the height along the more modern, bigger figures.

The Warlord Aetius and a Burgundian retainer attacked by a Hun at the Battle of the Catalaunian Plains, northwest France, AD451.

Aetius has the unique honour of being the titular star of both a wargame AND an opera by Handel.  The wargame is Aetius and Arthur (which must be 50% about him if you go off just the title).  The opera is Ezio (that’s Italian for “Aetius”), and sees our general returning home from defeating Attila, trying to disentangle himself and his future wife from a plot to assassinate the Emperor.  This is the only Citadel miniature I know of which has an opera about it, until my own work, Marneus Calgaro Maestro di Ultramarines, debuts this winter.

Owen of Wales

This miniature is Owen of Wales (“Owain Lawgoch” if you’re Welsh), who was a mercenary captain in the Hundred Years War (c. 1330 – 1378).  He hated the English so much he sided with their arch-nemesis, France, hoping his military service would ultimately help him claim the Prince of Wales title.  He was killed by a sheep (well, an English spy named “Johnny Lamb”).

Bertrand du Guesclin and Owen of Wales fighting together, united in their hatred of the English.

I had a load of fun painting all twelve of the lions rampant on his heraldry.  They are the arms of the royal house of Gwynedd – which Owen would have worn to cement his image as the rightful Prince of Wales.

“Oh I just can’t wait to be kin… prince!”

Now, let’s all take a moment to reflect on the name of the Swiss municipality in the caption below.

Owen of Wales is pursued by halberdiers from Berne at Buttisholz, Switzerland, 1375.

Now, there is a later Owen of Wales, (c. 1359 – c. 1415).  A contemporary chronicler claimed this Owen of Wales (“Owain Glyndŵr” if you’re Welsh) adopted the name as he was inspired by the earlier medieval warlord.  This is the Owen that instigated a rebellion against the English and got as far as establishing a proper Welsh parliament.  Nowadays the Welsh celebrate him as a symbol of nationalism with their statues, their ship names, their music awards and their Manic Street Preacher songs.  (Seriously, the Manics did the song 1404 all about this lad.)

Owain Glyndŵr and his Welsh followers are attacked by the English garrison at Caernarfon Castle, AD1401.

This later Owen pops ups in another Angus McBride illustration from Celtic Warriors that’s 83% more liontacular on account of that horse’s barding.  That looks like an fun challenge to paint.

Vlad Dracula

Vlad Dracula, rose to power as Prince of Wallachia by impaling all the leading nobility on stakes in a single night and replacing them with a new totally-loyal nobility raised from the peasantry.  He held on to power with the same impailment tactic – political enemies, suspected traitors, even whole armies of Turks found themselves with sharpened wooden stakes through their torsos.   His brutality and violent excesses saw him dubbed “Vlad the Impaler” within his lifetime, and his legend has grown since his death to the point of him being the most iconic vampire in the modern popular imagination.

A veteran Taborite Infantryman and Vlad Dracula fighting together on the Hungarian border

Vlad was a member of the Ordo Draconis, which was founded by the King of Hungary to stamp out the enemies of Christianity (including the likes of fellow Blandford Warrior Jan Žižka).  Though ostensibly Christian, Dracula never quite grasped the essence of the religion – attempting to demonstrate his faith to the King of Hungary with a gift of two bags of Turkish heads, ears and noses.  See how well that gift goes down with your vicar.

Dracula supervises the execution of prisoners after a raid on a German settlement in southern Transylvania, 1460.

The heraldry of the Ordo Draconis, in the Angus McBride plate above, is a dragon swooping down on some sort of serpentine monster.  Ordo Draconis is where Dracula’s father – Vlad II Dracul – got his name from, and “Dracula” is the diminuitive form – “little dragon”.

Dracula, looking every inch the cock of the town, though at 5′ 2″ it’s not many inches.

Vlad eventually died on the battlefield in AD1476, fighting the Ottoman Turks.  They cut his head off and sent it to their Sultan, who impaled it on a spike.  However, Vlad had converted from Greek Orthodoxy to Roman Catholicism during his lifetime – something considered so heretical that Wallachian folklore claimed that on death, any such heretic would transform into… a vampire.

Project Complete

I enjoy grouping the figures from different chapters of Medieval Warlords together (like the Taborite Infantryman and Dracula) to make the figures cross over.  I can even draw a connection through a thousand years of time between Aetius (representing the earliest medieval warlord), and Dracula (the latest):  Aetius defeated Attila the Hun, and Bram Stoker’s Dracula character was a member of the Hungarian tribal group that claimed direct descent from those Huns.

Left to right: Alan Horseman, Sir John Chandos, Bucellarius of Majorian, Jan Žižka, An Lushan, Flavius Aetius, Imperial Guardsman, Vlad Dracula, Bertrand du Guesclin, Owen of Wales, Teutonic Knight and Taborite Infantryman.

That’s each and every Blandford Warrior painted.  The set is complete.  Project over.  Now I can give my historical wargaming energy to something else.  Reinforcements for my Normans?  Siege of Oxford?  Early Imperial Romans?  Late Imperial Romans?  I’m giddy with excitement, all I can say with certainty is that’s the end of my Blandford Warriors.

…

…

…

Or is it … ?

Stay tuned to Ninjabread for more minis.  If you fancy your own set of Blandford Warriors they’re available from the excellent Wargames Foundry.

If you’re into your medieval history you WILL NOT have heard of these models.  That’s cos they’re not medieval at all.  Welcome to my next two classic Citadel Miniatures from the range based on the 1987 Medieval Warlords book.

An Lushan and Imperial Guardsman on the lower reaches of the Yellow River.

So, I have beef with An Lushan being classified as “Medieval” as it’s a specifically European term for a historical period, and China ain’t Europe.  Calling An Lushan a Medieval Warlord is like calling Richard the Lionheart an Imperial Chinese Warlord.  I imagine the publishers had a shortlist of even less suitable titles for the book.

“Okay, sod it, we’ll go with Medieval Warlords.”

With the historian’s pedantry out of the way, who are these two Medie… classic Citadel Miniatures?

An Lushan

An Lushan was possibly Mongol.  Possibly Turkish.  Possibly Liverpudlian (going off the model’s uncanny resemblence to Ringo Starr).  What we can definitely say is he wasn’t Han Chinese as he was allowed to rise to power as a regional military governor in 8th century China when policy was to keep these powerful posts away from the capital’s politicians to prevent rebellion.

“In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea.”

However, in 755, An Lushan’s previously amazing relationship with Tang Dynasty soured.  He marched on the heartland cities and declared himself emperor of his own brand new dynasty.  This was the An Lushan Rebellion, which was one of the bloodiest wars of all time – the Tang Empire was bigger than even the Roman Empire at its height, and the scale of slaughter as cities were toppled and populations massacred reached perhaps into the tens of millions.  Fascinatingly, the rebellion seems to have been sparked not by lofty political ideals, or a popular dissatisfaction with the ruling elite, but by a concern (or possibly paranoia) that the Tang Dynasty’s Chief Minister was personally out to get An Lushan.

An Lushan pursues a Khitan Mongol beyond the Great Wall on the north-east Chinese border, 735.

The Tang Emperor fled as the rebels stormed city after city.  But as An Lushan’s paranoia increased and his health worsened, he became a vulnerability and was assassinated by his own son (a surprisingly common fate in Imperial China).  The Tang Dynasty was severely weakened by the uprising, and it marked the beginning of the end for China’s golden age of civilisation.

But who had opposed An Lushan?  It was…

Imperial Guardsmen

By the time of the An Lushan Rebellion, the Tang military was split between militia on the Empire’s frontiers (which made up the bulk of An Lushan’s forces), and the Imperial Guard who were permanently garrisoned at the capital city and the Imperial palaces.  However, as with Ancient Rome’s Praetorian Guard, an elite fighting force concentrated at the seat of Imperial power could lead to violent coups.

Yang Guifei – the Emperor’s consort – and the Imperial Guard prepare to leave Ch’ang-an before the army of An Lushan, 756.

The Imperial Guard certainly proved wilful during Emperor Xuanzong’s time – as they escorted Yang Guifei (the Emperor’s favourite consort) away from the rebels’ pillaging of the capital city they blamed her personally for their military misfortunes and demanded her immediate death.  Needing to keep his elite guard on side, the Emperor consented and Yang Guifei was strangled.

Imperial Guard circa 736.

I’ve freehanded floral patterns onto the Imperial Guard’s decorated leather armour to match the Angus McBride colour plates from the book.  I enjoyed painting the stubble – all you’ve got to do for the five o’clock shadow look is shade and highlight the skin as normal then glaze the manly areas with a warm mid-grey (for example Skavenblight Dinge).

Blandford Warriors Assemble!

So that’s nine of the twelve Blandford Warriors painted.  I’m enjoying the tour around history and the opportunity to dabble with different periods without having to collect dozens upon dozens of figures for gaming.

Left to right: Jan Žižka, Bucellarius of Majorian, Betrand du Guesclin, Taborite Infantryman, An Lushan, Sir John Chandos, Imperial Guardsmen, Teutonic Knight and Alan Horseman.

I’m looking forward to working on the final trio of Blandford Warriors to complete this historical wargaming project!

If you’re into Czech action cinema you might already know Jan Žižka as the titular hero of the upcoming Jan Žižka film from director Petr Jákl – the man famous for films such as Pterodactyl and Born Into Shit.  If you’re not, lemme walk you through this trio of classic 1988 Citadel Miniatures.

Left to right: Taborite Infantryman, Jan Žižka and Teutonic Knight.

Who are these miniatures?  Welcome to my history lesson.  A wise man once said, “Those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it.”  And I don’t want you, dear reader, to be doomed to fighting in a series of 15th century Eastern European wars.

Teutonic Knight (1412)

The Teutonic Knight was, for many years, the Holy Grail for Blandford Warrior collectors.  Wargames Foundry had quietly reissued the other eleven Blandford Warriors across a couple of blister packs, making Teutonic Knight the one you had to hunt for as an original 1980s Citadel Minaitures release.  Luckily they brought him back in to production at Bring Out Your Lead 2017, so we johnny-come-latelies can be completists.

A literal white knight.

Teutonic knight attacked by Lithuanian horse-archers at the Battle of Tannenberg, 1410.

At the start of the 15th century the Teutonic Grand Order had turned its crusading ire on the Baltic peoples, and invaded Greater Poland.  Against these Catholic invaders the Kingdom of Poland allied with the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and crushed them at the Battle of Tannenburg in 1410.  A certain man was (probably) at that battle, and (maybe) got his left eye stabbed out of his face by the knights.  This man was …

Jan Žižka

The cover star of the Medieval Warlords book.  The Medieval Warlord.  Angus McBride paints two colour pictures of him while medieval warlord Gaiseric, with his own whole chapter, gets none!  Jan Žižka is sculpted as he would have appeared in 1423, after he lost his right eye to an arrow while besieging the castle of Rábí, and holding the famous fist-shaped mace he used in battle despite being totally blind.

“No one’s ever really disabled so long as he has courage.” – Chip Chase

Jan Žižka enters Prague with his Orebite Warriors, 1421.

Jan Žižka was one of the greatest military leaders of all time.  He was never defeated in battle.  He invented the war wagon – the earliest form of tank warfare.  He stood against the power of the Catholic Church and served as an inspiration for the Reformation a century later.  After he died he asked to be flayed and have his skin used as a drum so he could continue to lead his followers into battle.  What more can a man achieve in his life?  (Fighting a Pterodactlyl?)

Who did Jan Žižka lead into battle?  It was people like…

Taborite Infantryman

The Pope as the antichrist, attended by a large number of whores.  The Pope celebrating mass, served by the devil, while an entourage of demons stand around the altar.  These vivid religiously-charged images were served up by the Taborites, unhappy with the corruption of the medieval Catholic church, and wanting to spread their ideas to the illiterate peasant masses.  For battle they decorated their shields similarly, like this tiny peasant behind earthworks squaring up to the Catholic knight – presumably evoking a David-and-Goliath narrative with the peasant’s sling and relative size of the combatants.

The shield design is based on the design of a surviving pavise at the National Museum of Prague.

Taborite war wagons await the attack of Sigismund’s Hungarian horsemen, outside Kutna Hora, 1421, Eastern Bohemia.

The Taborites were named after their fortified city in Bohemia, which was in turn named after the Mount Tabor of Biblical fame.  They were a radical sub-faction of the larger anti-Catholic movement, the medieval equivalent of anarcho-communists who wanted to share everything they had – to the point where they even practised free love.  Jan Žižka led them into battle numerous times against the Emperor Sigismund, but eventually found their theology (and perhaps their free love) too radical, and he parted ways to found the less hardline Oberite faction.

Pictured left to right:  Alan Horseman, Biscuit Dude, Taborite Infantryman, Jan Žižka, Teutonic Knight, Sir John Chandos and Bertrand du Guesclin.  Not pictured: Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Blog.

That’s seven of the twelve Blandford Warriors painted.  I almost included Vlad Dracula with this lot, as he was a member of the Ordo Draconis that Emperor Sigismund founded to stamp on people like Jan Žižka.   At times like this I love history; it’s like the Marvel Cinematic Universe – a shared reality with potential for crossover events.

Coming soon to Ninjabread – Big Trouble in Little Tang Dynasty.

Arch-rivals from opposing sides of the Hundred Years’ War.  Each of them a talented medieval commander, but with a great respect for the other’s skills and abilities.  Presenting two classic Citadel Miniatures  – Sir John Chandos and Bertrand du Guesclin.

English commander Sir John Chandos and French commander Bertrand du Guesclin.

I like how different the miniatures are to each other.  Chandos is depicted as a classic knight in shining armour, with his “sharp pile gules” (a medieval way of saying “upside down red triangle”) heraldry sculpted onto both his tabard and shield.  His chainmail coif and fine moustache mark him out as a gentleman.  In contrast, du Guesclin with his black Breton eagle is a scruffy bugger with his bare head and loose-fitting straps.  Du Guesclin was a low-born brawler who started his career as a marauder, ambushing people in the forests of Brittany.  His equipment was reputedly in such poor condition he was sometimes mistaken for a common brigrand rather than a knight.  When the pair first met, Chandos lent du Guesclin his own armour and horse, as du Guesclin’s own kit wasn’t nice enough to be seen duelling in.

Bertand du Guesclin and his retainers surprising men-at-arms of Sir High Calverly on the road to Montmuran, Brittany, 1354.

The two men clashed on opposing sides of the Battle of Auray in 1364.  The French were defeated, and du Guesclin taken prisoner by Chandos.  France quickly paid his 40,000 florins ransom as they were keen for him to command an expedition to assist in the Castilian Civil War.  Guesclin invited Chandos along with him to Castile, a sign the two men had grown into friends, though Chandos declined.

Sir John Chandos is harassed by Moorish genitors in the army of Henry Castile at the battle of Nájera, northern Spain, 1367.

The pair also fought on opposing sides at the Battle of Nájera in 1367.  Again the French were defeated and again du Guesclin was taken prisoner by Chandos.  Again France were eager to have him back and paid a massive 100,000 francs.

Chandos and du Guesclin in the crumbling Burgundian ruins of Grenoble.

The walls of Grenoble in the picture above are from an upcoming Kickstarter from Fogou Models.  I’ve been gifted a set to paint ahead of the campaign, and they’ve been an absolute joy to drybrush and weather up.  Expect to see a lot more photographs of them in the future.

Left to right: Biscuit Dude, Alan Horseman, Bertand du Guesclin and Sir John Chandos.

That’s one third of the Blandford Warriors painted now!  I’m hoping to get all twelve finished for Bring out Your Lead in August – they were last year’s reissue and want to buy this year’s without any lead-guilt.  Next up,  we’ll be going in to the Hussite Wars.  Check out Alan Horseman here, and Biscuit Dude here.

As names for ranges go, “Blandford Warriors” is a little … underwhelming.  Rather than conjuring up images of medieval warlords on their bloodthirsty rampages it puts me instantly in mind of the sleepy Dorset village – Blandford.  Blandford’s top tourist attraction is a museum with a diorama of the 1731 Great Fire of Blandford.  Blandford is a bland name.  A dull name.  A boring name.  This feeling of deep ennui also manifests in the pose of the second miniature I’ve painted – Alan Horseman.

“This spear has a point.  Unlike my life.  Sigh”

Even the name, Alan Horseman, oozes boredom.  It’s one of those historical terms, like “Norman Shields”, that doubles as the personal name of a twenty-first century dullard.  I imagine it painted on the side of a white van – “Alan Horseman Electrical Contractor”.  Of course, the Alans were a tribe of fierce warrior horsemen instrumental in the defeat of Atilla the Hun.  Here’s the Angus McBride colour plate from Medieval Warlords of this Alan getting around on his horse and not a Ford Transit

Alan Horseman of Orleans, on the orders of Aetius, clashes with bacudae on an estate in eastern Brittany, 440s.  Sigh.

Coincidentally the colours Angus chose and I copied match my Late Roman Comitatenses – so I can roll Alan in to that collection.  Late Imperial Roman armies relied heavily on barbarian troops (foederati) such as the Alans as their military manpower dwindled in the 4th and 5th centuries.  Flavius Aetius let the Alans, originally from North Caucasus, settle in parts of Ancient France in return for providing fighters.  It was a clever policy for Rome as it motivated the tribe to fight not out of abstract loyalty to Rome, but in defence of their newly-acquired land and accompanying wealth. 

Late Imperial Romans forming a shield wall in the ruins of the partially demolished Epiacum.  Sigh.

The walls in the above shot are from the excellent Fogou Models, more focus on them in a future blog post!