About this 3D model

Where assembled models shown only the brighter red parts in this pack! Parts to modify your box of hard-plastic Fidwog Rhyflers from Wargames Atlantic! Arms, heads, packs and tractor parts to make your own Hoblyn Valley Rangers! The Hoblyn Valley Rangers The Hoblyn Valley Rangers are possibly the oldest continuously serving military regiment in Fidwog. Maybe even older than the modern kingdom itself, if the tattered battle streamers hanging in their great hall are to be believed. For centuries they've guarded the largest fertile valley in Fidwog, and for centuries they've never left it. They are the home guard, game wardens, weekend warriors who drill on Syl and drink on Fyf, Their most recent combat experience involves scaring hogrubs away from grazing land. Their distinctive white caps date back to the White Cap Rebellion, when the valley was annexed by the burgeoning Fidwog state, and they've worn them with pride ever since as a reminder that they chose their allegiance rather than had it imposed. Then the FOD got stranded in Creevin, and the crown-prince needed bodies. The activation order sent shockwaves through Hoblyn Valley. The Rangers, who'd never deployed beyond the valley's borders, were being shipped to Creevin to secure supply lines for the overseas forces. The crown spun it as noble sacrifice: "Even our beloved gameskeepers answer the call." But the reality was more pragmatic: several thousand quar who could hold a rhyfle and follow orders who were available immediately, and whose deployment wouldn't weaken home defense. The sendoff was all pomp and ceremony, full of farewell parades, speeches about duty and honor, and promises of "home by Cythwyn." The Rangers marched to the transport ships in new uniforms, white caps gleaming, while their clanmates waved and bands played. On those same ships, their five-wars-outdated bolt-action rhyfles were quietly replaced with mothballed Sketych from two wars back, and crates of ancient Fynrydhad chassis were distributed with vague instructions to "modify for anti-tractor use based on FOD field reports." The result: the Fighting Slugs. Each Fyn arrived in chop-shop condition, and each squad was left to field-modify theirs during the voyage to Creevin. What emerged were ugly, slow, barely-functional monsters all sharing the same basic principle: thick frontal armor that could take a beating, and a 25mm single-shot bolt-action anti-tractor rhyfle mounted in the turret. They weren't pretty, but they packed a punch.The Rangers also brought along a sizable contingent of first family royals, minor nobility, and bushbucks who'd "commissioned" for what they imagined would be a grand adventure. They arrived with baggage trains, personal servants, and in some cases their hunting kennels, treating deployment like an extended shooting holiday that happened to involve actual combat. The contested landing in Creevin went better than anyone expected. The Rangers established their beachhead, their Slugs proved functional enough to discourage immediate counterattack, and morale remained high. They're weekend warriors no longer, though many still drink like they are, and they're learning the difference between chasing hogrubs and holding ground against quar who shoot back. The white caps still gleam. The battle streamers will have a new entry when they get home. If they get home.