KEGSCon 2025 AAR

Well another KEGSCon in Chatham is done.

Fun was had, games were played, friends were caught up with.

Kamal from Centuries Historical Miniatures was there. His pricing is competitive. I got these two sets for Cdn$75 (instead of $110 on line).

So, I guess I've settled what the opponent for my 3rd Century A&A Roman army will be in Midgard. They've been on the table exactly once since I painted them back in 2019, and I'd really like to fix that.

Naturally I brought some Quar. The jungle terrain is great for conventions; looks dramatic and light weight for humping from car to venue.

The mat is some fabric I got on 50% off from a quilt shop. I like that it leaves room around the edges for off table stuff.

I used Quar of Command again, the Toulmorese players caught on quickly and butchered the Gloamers.

Me, in red shirt, explaining things

Some 28mm General d'Armee

In the morning I got to play in Keith's Blucher game. Played French this time. Tense exciting game and we managed to claw our way to a marginal defeat, instead of the decisive defeat that it had been shaping up to be.

Keith pointing dramatically. He's put a lot of work into the aesthetics (dice cups, measuring sticks, unit labels) which is nice.

Indians vs Moghul Persians in the 18th Century using Honours of War

Tanks, developmental and real, clash in 1946 Clash of Steel

IS-7s with 130mm guns... no wonder Western powers spent so much time developing big honking AT guns

Amazonian natives dispute the incursion of white mining interests in The Men Who Would Be Kings

28mm Napoleonic skirmish

54mm Commando raid Where Stens Dare

20mm Chain of Command. French vs Germans in 1940

Cavemen

Friday night Gaslands

I'm the green vehicles, lower right and upper left. Barely got past the first gate.

The monster truck eventually won, by just driving over everything

There was more, obviously. 14 games on Saturday morning and afternoon. About 40 people.

Trenches and Trench Mortars

Blod sat in the dug out, tending the stove, waiting for the tin can that he used as a kettle to boil for the Is-Caerten's tea. Nearby the heavy guns that 8th Company were protecting thumped away rhythmically, their sure steady beat of doom counting towards some uncertain Armageddon. With each bellowing discharge dirt shook loose  and fell in a fine rain on everything in the Command Post. It was a constant struggle to keep his young officer clean and respectable looking here in the trenches,  but he managed. He had a chipped plate and an old ration tin lid covering the Is-Caerten's mug and the tea pot. A cloth that was adjacent to clean covered the plate of fried termites and biscuits he had ready.

Dawn. Ready for a shoot. 

One of the new gun pits

The curtain twitched aside revealing rain outside and Is-Caerten Gwyffyth ap Foldgyhth'wlech, Officer Commanding 8th Company, 22nd Fusiliers stepped inside. "What ho, Blod! Alright me bucko?" he said with his unshakeable cheerfulness as he shook rain from his cape and carefully hung it on a nail.

"A'rright, sir. Tea's nearly up."

Foldgyhth'wlech sat down and removed the cloth. "Biscuits! However do you manage?"

"It's ma Nan's recipe. She taught me as a kit." Blod said, pouring boiled water from the tin into the teapot. 

The Is-Caerten piled some fried termites onto a biscuit and bit in with obvious delight. "Goodness me! Which Ancestor has blessed me that I've got you as my Bootbuck?"

"That'd be the Master-Yawdryl, sir" Blod said, picking up Foldgyhth'wlech's spare tunic, which needed mending.

"How is your Nan, then?" Foldgyhth'wlech said, pressing on with his cheerful assault. 

"With the Ancestors, sir" Blod said quietly, fingers busy with needle and thread.

German trench mortar 

"Oh..." Foldgyhth'wlech suddenly felt like he had farted at dinner, or tracked beetle dung all over mother's Anaryan rug. "Ah..." he continued, flailing for words.

"'s'arright, sir" Blod said quietly. He pointed with his snout to the corner where his pallet was. Above it a small photograph sat on a board nailed to the timbers. A small candle flickered nervously in front of it. "She'd be glad to know you like her biscuits an' all."

A good sized battery 

Foldgyhth'wlech got up with a biscuit from his plate. He placed it in front of the small photograph and bowed, with hands folded in reverence, while he quietly hummed the first bars of the Song of the Ancestors. The words changed with each family and clan, but the opening was the same for everyquar. 

Blod watched all this quietly and choked back a slight sniffle.

"Ta, sir. Means a lot, that."

Close up

"A Nan who taught kits to bake excellent biscuits is a Venerable Ancestor, indeed!"

He continued eating while Blod continued mending.

"When we are in Reserve again, we shall gather flowers for her too," Foldgyhth'wlech pronounced. 

Trench mortar in a trench! Trying the new weapons bay for size.  

Just then, Berk from 3rd Squad hustled in panting. "Yawdryl Hypfrth says your needed a' Trench Mortar right away, sir!" Without waiting, Berk disappeared again.

Is-Caerten Gwyffyth ap Foldgyhth'wlech stood up and put the last biscuit and fried termites in his mouth before reaching for his rain cape. "No rest for the weary, eh?"

At the door he turned with a wink. "Keep the tea warm." Then he was gone up the trench. 

Blod set down the mending and made sure that the Is-Caerten's sword was clean and sharp, and that extra magazines for his pistol were ready. Then he checked the action on his own rhyfle, making sure everything was clean.

Just in case there's more going on than Yawdryl Hypfrth needing a requisition signed for more high explosive bombs. And, he thought to himself, a rhyfler's pride is a clean rhyfle.

*********************

I ordered more trench pieces from Ironclad Miniatures earlier this summer and finally got them painted. I used the same recipe as last time, but there is still variation in the finish.

Three more gun pits, another intersection, another weapons bay, and six zig-zag connecting trench pieces. So I think I've increased my total trenches by about 50%. The three gun pits now means that I can do a proper Brequar Manor layout with four guns to eliminate. The zig-zag pieces will also mean I can do proper zig-zag trenches instead of long straight sections, and hopefully have some interesting fighting along a trench.

I am pondering how to rig camouflage netting over the guns and perhaps some overhead cover for the weapons bays,  so they could have a machine gun.

The Tollyn-Maeryn are lacking support weapons,  so I asked for some German trench mortars to go with them.  I've always liked the look of the squat little trench mortars. I assembled two dismounted from their carriage. But because I like the look of it, one is on it's carriage for some hasty firing.

The Is-Caerten's Bootbuck

Young Blodwyn is given instruction by a Yawdryl

Blod was sitting on his bunk, buffing his leather belts and humming a marching song. He dipped his rag, made from some worn underpants into his tin of wax and vigorously rubbed the wax into the equipment until it gleamed. Satisfied, he hung the belts up beside his tunic, where the buttons already shone brightly. 

A good rhyfler kept his buttons polished. Polished buttons meant clean and tidy gear. Polished buttons, each embossed with the "22" of the 22nd Fusilier Regiment, were a rhyfler's pride.

Rhyflers

Lots of shiny buttons

He reached down to pick up his boots which were next. Clean, shiny boots, boots that you could march in for eight hours, were also a rhyfler's pride.

"Heyup Bloddie, me ol' china!" Nobbie called form his bunk, where he was playing a hand of Trees and Pykpyks with Pod and Brych, and from the look of things, losing. "Kin you clean my kit, mate? 'elp a squaddie out, eh?"

Blod spread the boot wax and began bulling the toe of the boot with his bush. "Oh aye? An' what's innit for me then?"

"I'll pay. 'arf a crown an' all."

The others laughed. "You'd need to win back some of what you owe us first, Nobs!"

Just then Master-Yawdryl Paerwyn strode in. Everyone stopped lounging and tried to look suddenly busy, lest some previously unknown fatigue fall upon them. He stopped in front of Blod's bunk. Blod kept his snout down, polishing his boot, doing small circles with another piece of worn underpants to bring the mirror shine up. He could see the Master-Yawdryl's face faintly in the reflected surface.

Milwers pointing

Yawdryls with big SMGs and also pointing

"Rhyfler '076 Blodwyn" the Master-Yawdryl announced. 

Blod jumped to attention, boot in one hand, underpants in the other. "Yes Master-Yawdryl!"

"At ease, Blodwyn." Blod stood to Parade Rest.

"You're a good rhyfler, Blod."

"I do my best, Master-Yawdryl."

Master-Yawdryl Paerwyn prowled around Blod's bunk space, inspecting his kit, all clean and neatly hung, or folded and stored in the regulation manner. "Button's always polished. Kit always clean."

"Yes, Master-Yawdryl." Blod kept staring straight ahead. Everyone else in the barracks was trying very hard to look in other directions.

"You are now part of Headquarters Squad as the Commander's Bootbuck."

"Master-Yawdryl?"

"Six A.M. tomorrow, you will report to our new Is-Caerten. You" the Master-Yawdryl emphasized this with all five fingers aimed at his chest like a blade "...are now responsible that our new Is-Caerten is always well turned out; shiny buttons, polished boots, gleaming leather, cleaned, pressed, and..." Paerwyn sighed slightly "chipper. Bring him his tea, fetch his pipe, everything a pampered young scion of the First Families doesn't know how to do for himself. Leave his mind free for the responsibilities of command." And bothering me with new-fangled ideas, Paerwyn thought to himself.

Blod stood up straighter. "Yes, Master-Yawdryl! I'm honoured Master-Yawdryl!"

Paerwyn laughed. "We'll see if you still feel honoured after you've humped His Nibs' pack plus your own for a few days. For this honourable burden, you will be paid an extra two Crowns a week."

Blod caught Nobbie's eye and smirked slightly.

****************************************

A big batch of the First World War German flavoured Tollyn-Mearyn finished. This gives me two more Yawdryls, two pointing Milwers, and 13 more Rhyflers. So the 8th Company of the 22nd Fusiliers now has three good sized squads and a small Command Squad of Officer, Master-Yawdryl, Cook, Officer's Bootbuck (Batman in human English), and Squirrel Handler. 

They're still awaiting some Veteran and Female rhyflers and their squad light machine guns which still need to be printed. Once all four squads are filled out, I can put extras in the HQ Squad for defense and to act as runners, or extras for the trench mortar and field gun crews.

Again a few of the Rhyflers are looking pretty casual with shouldered arms and the other hand holding a pipe or cigar. I made the pipes from greenstuff and wire to give a sensible reason for the left hand to be in the position it was in, without faffing about cutting wrists and rotating hands.

Cigar and pipe

Teapot and pipes

I only had a right arm with a teapot and nothing to put in the left, so I gave him a pipe as well, to continue my casual vibe with this army, and the tea drinking for all of my Quar. I decided while writing this story that he's going to be the officer's batman or Bootbuck, (I tried 'Batquar' and it just didn't sound right), and become part of the HQ squad. After I had painted him, and started basing, I decided that he really needed to be laden down with gear, so I retrofitted the pack, bedroll, and Coftyran ration tube from spare plastic bits and then very carefully painted them.

I discovered that the Crusader backpacks looked very similar, so I used some of them to put more packs on the rhyflers. Crusader pack on left, 'official' Tollyn-Maeryn pack on the right. Bootbuck Blod in the middle has Crusader small pack, backpack and bedroll, plus Coftyran ration tube on top of pack.

By naming them the 22nd Fusiliers, I'm giving a nod to another distinguished Canadian Army regiment, the Van Doos, from the French Vingt-duex, because they were formed from French Canadian recruits in 1914 as the 22nd Canadian Expeditionary Force battalion. 

Faelvor armoured wagons. Painted a few months ago. Somehow I didn't get these on the blog.

The Tollyn-Maeryn, Quar Army number 7, now number 30 Rhyflers and NCOs, a small HQ of Is-Caerten, Master-Yawdryl, Cook, Squirrel Handler, and Bootbuck, 2 Faelvor armoured wagons, and 16 artillery crew to man a battery of big howitzers.

When you get Dr. Seuss to design your armoured fighting vehicles