Some time ago I put together a first go at a Turnip 28 (T28)
army. I wasn’t really happy with the result and in any case, my wargaming
companions didn’t really buy into the game so it withered on the vine. Recently, while playing One Page Rules, one
of my friends revealed his own T28 themed army!
So among other projects I set about updating, rebasing and
partly repainting my force. I also expanded the force with a few other bits and
bobs (so far).
Anyway, one of the great joys of T28, aside from its core
facilitation of a bit of conversion work, is that it is steeped in narrative. Most
of the best wargames are! So as well as discussing how I created this force, I’ll
also give the narrative for these little toy soldiers.
Pastinaca 233rd Regiment of Foote
My regiment is a denuded rump of mutated soldiery, most of
whom have very little memory of much before the last bout of imbibed fungal
grog.
They are part of the ‘Stranglin’ Harry’s Wretched Recruits’
cult, and have taken to worshipping the Grand Parsnip. The 233rd wander
the barren marshes, fens, and bogs of the Ardene Sours in search of food and glorious
war. Their original uniforms were red, but attrition and an increasing penchant
to show their allegiance to the Parsnip, means that yellow coats are worn by replacements
and new recruits.
The Toff
Every T28 force has a single leader, the ‘Toff’ to command
it. I created mine for a mix of a Perry Medieval figure, Games Workshop parts
and a 3D printed head. As with all models in the force, it is given a rough
paintjob and heavily doused in AK Streaking grime. The base uses AK ‘wet ground’
basing.
So, here we have the Toff himself, General Mann Waisse, 802nd Viscount Bouillon. Waisse is heavily mutated with a woody infection that has relocated his skull out of his head, meaning his noggin is now held together by his helmet, which he never removes. Afflicted by a constant headache from his sloshing, rotted brain, he is utterly callous and uncaring of his minions, who he uses in his merciless search for glory. He prefers to fight in the old manner with blade and shield.
Every Toff needs a cadre of Toadies to keep the soldiery in
line, and General Waisse has his contemptible compatriots, who he mostly hates.
Perhaps the most powerful among them is Bishop Bakkebaard, a minister given to tremendous tub-thumpery. Bakkebaard fluctuates wildly in his allegiances. On odd days he spreads the gospel of the Grand Parsnip, especially when the lads are hungry. On even days he preaches the word of the Worm God. In truth he believes in nothing save his own stomach, which he fills at every opportunity, particularly with long-pig and parsnip stew. Bakkebaard carries a brutal falchion for carving meat and a brass icon, which the soldiery fear and revere in equal measure. Bakkebaard found it in a waterlogged hayloft several years back (he thinks). His splendid moustache is actually a feathery fungal growth that infests his lungs and pokes out of his nostrils.
I believe this was a Games Workshop figure of some kind, and
it received only minor conversions before painting.
The other two Toadies are Lieutenants Alexi and Bela although everyone calls them ‘The Pointers’. Alexi and Bela come from the eastern wastes, and speak a strange babbling tongue that nobody understands. Hence they are only able to make themselves known to the soldiery by pointing and gesticulation. Alexi favours a huge chopper to dismember his foes. He carries the skull of his dead wife, and her favourite hat (in a hat box) as a reminder brief happiness leads only to misery. His brother Bela is a skilled pistoleer now trapped in his armour, as infections made his skin slough off. He tanned his own hide and wears it like a cloak.
Both are made from a mix of Perry Medieval and Napoleonic
figures with bits from Games Workshop.
‘Stranglin’ Harry’s Wretched Recruits’ cult gives me access
to a special unit called ‘rootlings’. I really wasn’t sure what to do for them,
but after a good rummage I found some Games Workshop goblins. Mixing them with
some Games Workshop Branch Wraith bits I’m pleased with the result.
The soldiery regard these rootlings as blessings from the Grand Parsnip, and it seems that only Bishop Bakkebaard is able to communicate with or control them. In battle they pop up from the ground to cause trouble before disappearing into the ground again. Generally the soldiery call them 'The Red Caps', as they say the hoods the rootlings wear are soaked in old blood (which they aren't).
General Waisse maintains a small number of Chaff, skilled musketeers whose main role on the march is to scout out the ground ahead. When the musket balls start flying they are enthusiastic marksmen, and terribly noisy. As they blast away with their firearms, its accompanied by a cacophony of cries such as ‘every one’s a winner!’, and ‘first one to hit the captain gets ‘is liver!’ These chaps never quite seem to stay dead no matter how many times they fall in battle. Captain Cranmer has never learned to keep his head down, ans as such has lost most of the flesh on his head. Old Bokey is heavily mutated and once served with the Bone Eaters before transferring to the Chaff because of his skill with a musket. Unfortunately he lost his firearm somewhere, but it no longer matters as his mutated arm can throw iron-like thorns as lethally as a musket ball. In the camp they keep to themselves for the most part and are avoided as they are seen to be somewhat spooky by the others.
Once again these are made from a mix of Perry Medieval and Napoleonic figures with bits from Games Workshop. I didn’t repaint them yellow, leaving them with red coats as, well, they don’t seem to stay dead so haven’t been replaced yet!
The Twisted Misters form a heavy unit of Brutes, close
combat assault specialists who are highly mutated by their devotion to the Grand
Parsnip. They are bullies, and vicious butchers in melee. While the wider
soldiery fear them, their tendency to return from the battlefield caked in
blood and bearing sacks filled with tasty livers means they remain an integral
part of the 233rd.
Among the usual Perry/Games Workshop mix there are a couple
of weird metal miniatures. I don’t know where I got them from, but they look
suitably brutal.
Bill’s Butchers are the next unit of Brutes. They are armed
with captive bolt guns designed to kill livestock, which they found in a collapsed
barn outside of the ruins of Haybiss. A unit of new recruits, they exhibit only
mild mutations so far. They are led by a gruff-voiced sergeant simply known as
Bill. They joined the 233rd on the promise of plentiful meat, and
are disgruntled to find that they have to hunt the prey themselves. Most of it
comes from opponents killed in the melee, where they use their spring-loaded
killing bolt contraptions to good effect.
This unit is made with a mix of Perry Napoleonic, Warlord
WWII Russian, and 3D printed T28 style parts.
Although the 233rd are a regiment of foot,
General Waisse recently managed to attract the service of a troop of Whelps. Fast
riding and haughty fellows, they do not fraternise with or even speak to the
infantry. To be fair, they barely speak to the General, considering themselves
better than the foot sloggers. Mutations are rife among them and their horses.
I made these from Victrix Napoleonic French cavalry as a
base, with mutations made from a plastic toy spider and a greenstuff/Mulliput
mix.
The Tumour Guard
I picked these figures up from the front of a couple of wargames magazines and used them with very little conversion. The only addition was some texture paste over their faces. They form into a Fodder unit armed with muskets.
The Tumour Guard is populated by fellows whose heads and
vital organs have been entirely replaced by vegetably tumours. They are blind,
deaf, mute, and brainless, operating entirely on intuition gleaned from a
connection to the Grand Parsnip. They move in an unnaturally uniform way, almost
as if they were a single being. In camp they stand at attention and never seem
to rest or eat.
The Umbles
The second Fodder unit was made from the usual mix of
figures and bits.
The Umbles are a true unit of battle fodder. Nobody cares
for them, or even knows their names. They are an unruly rabble at best.
The Worms
The third Fodder unit in the army is heavily enhanced with
greenstuff and miliput mutations to give them long mutated noses or helmet
snouts.
The Worms as they are known are afflicted by a particular
blessing from their worship of the Worm God. Each is slowly degenerating into a
large earthworm, a fate they embrace with ecstatic joy. For each of them, they
pray for the day that they will take their final form and slither off into the
ground as a beautiful burrowing worm. They believe that the din of battle
hastens their transformation and so they march to war eagerly.
The Bone Eaters
Long ago the sergeant of this unit mutated into a goat-like
form, before being killed by a fateful sword thrust from some long forgotten foe.
His unit now carries his bones aloft into battle to honour his loss. Out of
respect the Fodder of this unit only eat bones. They crush them into a powder
and add the dust to a mix of brackish water, blood, and bile to make their ‘bone
paste’ that they consume greedily. They consider the best bones to come from a
hanged creature and so their current sergeant, who calls himself Harry in
honour of Stranglin’ Harry, carries a noose for the purposes of food
preparation.
I’ll be adding more to this force over time I think. We’ll be playing our first game of Turnip 28 next week, where the 233rd will be taking on the Cult of Charybdis I suspect. Should be fun!
