Stone for the knighting of Durcain MacWard

I was approached by East Kingdom Signet to create an award "scroll" for Durcain MacWard, who was going to be knighted. I set out to create for him a stone to honor the occasion.

I took inspiration for the stone from Runestone U153 from Lissby in Uppland, Sweden. What I created is a pretty close reproduction, but tweaked to fit this particular project.

I wanted to use the cross aspect from the stone, but changed to be a Northern Army star, as Durcain is a Northern Army fighter. I started by sketching a few of the period crosses from stones, then used attributed from them to create a star that evoked that look. The end result being... well, I kind of re-invented the star used by Duchy Von Drachen Klaue on heir shields. Which... works, because Durcain is a member of VDK.

Initial sketches of the crosses, and the star.

Initial sketch for the stone. Inspired by stone U153 from Lissby. Basic, simple PR3 style.

The stone differs from period practice in a couple of ways. First, in the use of the Northern Army Star/VDK Tagma instead of the cross found on the original. Second is the inscription....
Inscription is English, transliterated into Elder Fuþarc. Stones of this period would have been in old norse, in Younger Fuþarc, but I used this method to make it easier for modern people to read, and because it's FAR easier to transliterate English (specifically modern English) into Elder. Younger has fewer letters, and I would have had to improvise replacement letters far more often.

Inscriptions on stones were pretty simple and to the point... they were being carved in stone, after all, by hammer and chisel. I opted to go with a short inscription, as close to period practice as I could.

Inscription reads: "Ioanness and Honig raised this stone for Durcain and made him a knight"

This is how it would have looked in Younger Fuþarc

I laid out the design on the stone itself, then I began carving by hand... hammer and chisel, as was done in period. My tools are modern... I repurpose basic hardware store cold chisels, drawing back the bevels to make functional carving chisels. 

I go over and rough out the entire design first, taking care to get each line... I don't want to miss any and have them erased from the surface of the stone before carving. It's embarrassing to have to go back and carve more if I realize after that I missed some...

Initial roughing out of the design. I start with the outline, then move in and carve the runic text.

        
"Honig", finished carving.

Roughed out primary design, and runic text.

After roughing out, I go through and clean up all the lines with a combination of point chisel and dremel tool with diamond burrs. Obviously the dremel is a deviance from period practice. I find it very useful on smaller stones like this.... especially when I have to finish a stone on a deadline, and a chisel mistake could mean someone doesn't get their award scroll on time.
After the carving is all done, then it's time to give the stone a bath. I scrub the stone with water and a brush, removing all the bits I have carved away, making sure to get deep into every line. On some stones, I have actually pressure washed them. Removing all the loose parts is important in making sure the paint sticks.
Then... on to painting.

Painting in progress. I start in the middle, and work out.

Painting is another departure from period practice. I use modern paints... mainly acrylics. I have not delved into the world of period paints and pigments, but I am looking to get some made and see the difference. Another rabbit hole....
Runestones definitely were painted in period. Dominant colors were reds, whites, and blacks, but other colors were possible and known. I chose to use Greens, yellows, whites, and blacks, as Durcain's colors are primarily those.

Finished!

I cut the base of the stone for it to be displayed on a table or mantle inside, instead of being set in the ground.
I am damn happy with how this came out. I was extremely honored to be asked to do the stone for Durcain. I hope he's happy with it in his home.

Uncle Olaf and the Pennsic Stone

It was brought to my attention that despite the way I blather away on Facebook, many of you had no idea about the stone I carved and placed at pennsic this year. So... a quick post to tell the (abbreviated) story.
A few years ago, I had a pipe dream about carving runestones, small ones, to leave around Pennsic.... specifically with the purpose of people taking them home with them. THis grew into the idea of "DUDE, IT WOULD BE SO COOL TO DO A PERMANENT ONE!!!"
I voiced this idea, somewhat wistfully, and lo and behold, a friend put me in contact with a member of the Cooper's staff to discuss it with. They were amenable to the idea, so long as it was out of the way, and wouldn't interfere with day to day operations. So... I sought a stone, and started plotting.
I found the stone I would use at the house of a friend... it was about a foot wide, around six feet long, and probably about 6 inches thick. It was... well, a bit big, frankly. It weighed somewhere between 500 and 600lbs, and I decided to split it into three manageable sections, lengthway. So one stone became three, each six feet by one foot, and around two inches thick. It was one of these stones we packed in the truck to Pennsic.

It made the trip well... 450 miles or so, without a hitch. Then, we took it off the truck and placed it on the ground... where the bottom 18" or so snapped off. Because of course it did.
There was still enough to make a respectable stone, so I made contact with the Coopers about placing it and started carving. It was done COMPLETELY at Pennsic... design, carving, painting. It's not a true "runestone"... in that there are no runes on it. It's simply a "rune-serpent", inspired by Urnes style beasties. I sketched it on freehand, then carved the design in with chisels. My protege Arnbjorn kept my chisels sharp, and my wife Dalla helped me with the last bit of carving, and on Friday of War Week, I got final approval for placement, just inside my camp, House Wolfhaven at the end of Nagashino Road. My campmate Justin helped me set it into concrete, and it was  finished. It waits to greet us there next year.

The Pennsic Runestone Project, spearheaded by Valdis of Gotland, has not yet come to fruition.... they have not been able to complete funding goals, and it has stalled. You should check out their site here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/53562510901/ and think about supporting the project.

Guest Post: Unbelt Wives

Receiving the tabard...
photo by Tadea Isabette Di Bruno

Here's my first ever guest post. These are all people who were "Unbelt Wives"... those who stood next to us, helped us along, and put up with the craziness on the road to The Fight, and cheered us through victory or comforted us in defeat. Wives, in this case, include spouses, girlfriends, or boyfriends. It is meant to be gender neutral.
A couple asked to remain anonymous, and I have respected that.

Mathilde DeCadenet:
Being an Unbelt wife.
It is joy. It is angst and fear. It is immeasurable Pride. It is pushing and cheering on your love to strive for something for King and Kingdom and self. It is picking them up and calming them down. It is the agony in sending them off to a practice to do their best to fight against friends and brothers for a spot on the team. It is the agony of the wait for the damnable list to finally be published. The held breath in court to hear his name. Then the hard part comes. The day of The Fight. The handing out of the tabards that prove he is part of the team. That tangible proof. The singing of Forsaken All Others. The entire morning is your breath held and hands clenched. Sending him off to fight and standing there with our sons watching their father be part of such an important part of the War. Willing him to fight the best he has ever fought while everyone EVERYONE is watching. This event, such an important part of our Kingdom tradition. And then in less than a minute it’s over and you exhale …and it begins anew.

Tadea Isabetta Di Bruno
Not part of the brotherhood we stand just outside. Our souls burn that of a warrior. Never a fighter

photo by Tadea Isabette Di Bruno

wife, an unbelted one. We cease to breathe from the second the battle starts, the agony wraps around our heart and holds tight grip. Powerless, motionless until the moment we realize which victors will celebrate the day. Win or lose we will be here. We stand at the edges of the field beside those who long for their spot. Wishing to reach out and offer words of encouragement. Instead we stand in silence and watch with you. We know that when your time comes we will cheer for you a little harder. We will remember your longing and heartache, your drive. There shall forever be a part of you with us, and we remember. On the field we see both accomplishment and defeats. Not just those we claim as our own, all of you. You are all part of something bigger. You represent the work, the support, the travel, the hours together and apart that have brought us all here. You represent the game we play and reasons we do this over and over again. We expect so much of our team. Honour, chivalry, mercilessness and a burning desire to leave it all on the field. Show them it was right to place you here. Prove that tabard rests on worthy shoulders. Yet none of those expectations are unfair. It is what each signs up for and we understand that sometimes we must remind you of that. When your elevation is announced after the battle our hearts rejoice. Not that we have ever met, but you are one of them, part of our team. You have risen and are recognized and for that we celebrate as if you are one of our own. We will welcome you next year when you stand by our side as the battle rages on. People start to drift away, they head toward camps where they will relive the day over and again. It is only then we feel the grip around our heart start to loosen. We know that win or lose, there were both that day. Honor is what all walk away carrying. Once it is all said and done and with you we prepare to leave the field, already our thoughts turn. The battle is over and from this moment on we prepare …for next year.

Mistress Aneleda Falconbridge

I Fight for You

Originally posted on February 4, 2013 at http://mbouchard.com/aneleda/i-fight-for-you

The Queen’s Meadhall in Carolingia was where this song was first publicly performed. It was written after a conversation with Aneleda’s noble cousin and friend Gryffyn Dunham, who was on the unbelted team at the time, about what inspires us do do what we do on the field (and elsewhere.) Since I had no song that really fit that theme, I wrote this one.

This song is featured on the CD “I Am of the North” available for purchase online at:  http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/aneledafalconbridge/

I Fight for You 

photo by Tadea Isabette Di Bruno

I fight for you,

my one, my love, my own

You who give more strength to me

than I would know alone.

While my arms are bound in linen

and my legs are wrapped in steel

nothing brings me to my knees

as the way you make me feel.

I fight for you.

Many are the days and nights

when I have left you behind;

deep within a warrior’s trance

seemed to push you from my mind.

But know that you are all to me

no matter what I show

for I don the armor to protect

what I hold safely below.

I fight for you...etc.

The miles, they leave me lonesome

for the warrior’s road is long.

I miss your laughter ‘round the fire

And your voice raised soft in song.

As I look up to the star’s light

that I know above you shine,

I pray that my thoughts carry

to the love I know is mine.

photo by Tadea Isabette Di Bruno

I fight for you...etc.

Each buckle and each lacing

Marks the rituals of war,

Knowing solidly and firmly

that for you I would do more.

With my life I will protect you

and would keep you from all harm,

each time I step upon the field

I wear that knowledge as a charm.

I fight for you...etc.

When I have the time I watch you

‘neath the shadow of my helm.

But I do not do it often

lest my feelings overwhelm.

With all the honor in my being

I take every day for you

I swear that your belief in me

I shall never make you rue.

I fight for you...etc.


Anonymous
Being an unbelt wife is blood, sweat, and sacrifice. Squeezing every minute out of the day to
spend time with your fighter when they're home, keeping the family stable when they're not.
Wringing every dollar out of the budget, for travel, equipment, and kit­ my car can run rough, as
long as my fighter can get to events. A replacement demi or a set of vambraces takes
precedence over new work clothes. Every vacation is an event. It's worry, over the broken
bones, the contusions, the concussions that come with fighting at this level. Its jealousy, over the
camaraderie with others you dont know, whose company your mate so often seeks. It's dealing
with the manic highs when things go well, the dark, withdrawn bleakness after a bad practice or a
bad fight. It's a subsuming of ego­ we stand behind, to support our fighters when they come back,
having left it all on the field. To tend stress, and injury, contend with bravado and self­doubt. We
bolster them, while carefully staying out of the limelight. But mostly it's pride, at seeing our
fighters beat back everything thrown at them, on the field and off, to achieve their dreams. To join
their Brothers on the field, as one unit, one weapon, one force. Pride in their work, their sacrifice,
their stubborness, pushing past every barrier, over every obstacle, through every foe. For us, as
for them, this team, this battle, is the all­consuming goal­ because we, too, are of the North.

Anonymous

I was really hesitant to say anything, because couldn’t see what good could come from casting the Unbelt Battle in an negative light, but at your insistence I'll share a few thoughts.

I've seen almost entirely bad and very little good come out of the competition. I've watched many of my friends get so filled with stress and performance anxiety over it that they get physically ill. I'm sure they'd say it was worth it. The loss and sense of low self-worth that comes from trying their best and falling short, either in the competition itself or in wanting to achieve the dream and not making the cut. In the discouragement of being on the team one year--or worse many years--and not the next. The deep social ramifications that those perceived failures have for those individuals.
Two things strike me as strange about the cult of the Unbelts. Unlike mainstream sports, there is no season of games, no playoffs to get psyched about, there is only the Stanley Cup or the Super Bowl, or whatever the end game is in other sports. There are plenty of practices, but only one game at the end of all the preparation. Also unlike other sports, the Big Game is not hours long with many opportunities to prove oneself, but it is short and brutal. This puts an enormous amount of pressure on the team members and candidates. At the end of a full year of preparation and anxiety, a fighter might only be in the game for 10 seconds. One mistake, and they're done. And then they have a full year to agonize about those 10 seconds and what they could have done differently. As I write this, I realize that the life of a sniper is a better analogy than any modern sports team. They work with a unit, have countless hours of preparation, but it all comes down to split seconds of decision making to determine whether their preparation was adequate. The second thing that strikes me as odd, if you try to use the modern sports analogy, is that there is no long-term recognition. There is no plaque on the wall or silver cup engraved with team members' names. There is no Super Bowl ring to commemorate which year they were Champions. There is nothing beyond the memories of individuals. There are people working to change that now. Again, more apt for the sniper analogy--they know how many kills they have. They know the score, and so do their close associates. There's no ticker tape parade for being, as Olaf said, a killer.

So in conclusion, I'm glad I wrote this. Because now I get it. I've been thinking about the Unbelts as the big game and it just never made sense to me. But if I think about them like snipers, then I get the thrill of selection, the anticipation, the pressure, and how the stress can be a good thing.

Unbelted Champions: Uncle Olaf's perspective

Four years ago, I knelt at the feet of Queen Avelina Keyes to receive the tabard of an unbelted champion of the East for the first time. This was the only time I have worn the tabard, the only time I have taken to the field as part of the team.
This was also Avelina's first time on the throne.

In a short matter of days, I will once again be called up to take the tabard of a champion. I find it fitting that it will once again come from the hands of Her Majesty Avelina, a woman who has inspired me as a Queen, a Peer, and simply as a wonderful person. It is an honor and a privilege for me to serve her in this capacity again.

It is hard to explain what it is to be called as an unbelted champion in the East, especially to people outside the fighter culture of the Kingdom. It is an honor and a responsibility. You will have to fight The Fight… yes, that should be capitalized… in front of a crowd composed of both of the primary Kingdoms, as well as the rest of the Known World who have come out to watch.
To some (myself included), I have yet to fight The Fight. The one year I fielded as part of the team, it was not against our annual enemy, the Midrealm, but alongside them, fighting the allies of the Known World. That… was a different fight. It was intense and fast and brutal… but it wasn’t The Fight. In that, I have yet to be tested.
There will be those who criticize The Fight as brutal spectacle, even in a sport based on physical violence. They say the calibration is higher, that more people will shrug shots because there is seemingly more at stake. Maybe they’re right. I’d like to think that they are not. We are plainly told in preparing for the fight to strike with speed and ferocity, and to throw blows that will not be questioned as light. We are also told to accept blows, and to not bring shame to our brothers by being questioned.

Someone, one year, described us as “the monsters they keep in the closet, to be let out when needed”. I found that apt. We are all, every one of us, killers. That’s what we bring to the table in this Fight… the ability (and desire) to bring overwhelming violence at point of contact, and a deep seated love of the melee. We oftentimes do not seem to fit in with polite company… we’re the rough and tumble ones who are too loud and coarse. Some of us learn to refine that. Some do not.

There are those who call the team a product of politics and posturing… that only those who are connected and kiss the right asses, only those who are connected with the right Houses and the right knights will get on. It is sometimes true that politics take a hand, I cannot deny. Knights will lobby for their squires, and that may be rightly so. Their squires are their charges, and helping them seek avenues for recognition is part of that job. Have there been times that affected the makeup of the team? Sure. Is it required to be connected? Is it all a political game? No. There are enough of us who are not connected to show that.

For me, it’s humbling. The unbelts were always something a bit larger than life for me. I loved going to Northern Region and fighting against them… the rabble against the (to me) best of the best. It was like setting up against the varsity squad… they might be a bit better, but here was your chance to show them what you had, make them take notice of you so maybe next year you’d have a better shot. Seeing them in their tabards at War, hearing the stories of The Fight… all part of the legend.

I knew that making the team generally required making a lot of commitments for travel, having to hit certain events, to be seen by certain people. I steadfastly refused, for the most part. I felt that if I was worthy, I was worthy, and that was that. I get now that there was more to it than that… seeing how you work together as a team is a big part of it, not just as an individual fighter. The team is not a company of heroes. The opposite, really… there shouldn’t be heroes. There should be those ready to make sacrifices for the team, for The Fight. You may not be the one to get the kills… your job may be to refuse a flank, to kite off some fighters to break up their advance, or to protect the polearms as they do the killing. It. Is. A. Team.

When I put on the tabard Sunday the 7th, I will be putting on more than a brightly colored swath of fabric. I will be putting on the trust of my teammates, and agreeing to do my best to bring honor and glory to them, and all who have worn it before me, and will after.

We will all be stepping on that field to fight The Fight not just for ourselves, but for the East. When we strike, it will be with the fury of every Eastern blade. This is what our enemies, our brothers in red and white deserve and expect, and what they will also be bringing to the field. The. Fight.

My Wolfhaven Hirð at Pennsic

This year, I went to Pennsic with the highest number of my hirð armoured up and fighting ever. It's not a high number... there were five of us all together... but I was pretty pleased.

I was also pretty pleased that we were a solid enough force that Tribune Tiberius used us as a small unit within Third Division, and my guys did me proud.

The hirð before our first battle this Pennsic.

One of my prouder moments came in the woods. I was on a ridge line watching for a push. I told Alasdair to get the rest of the unit up there (we were with some of Sir Stephen's crew at the time as well). While he was away, there was a push on our King's position in the gully below, and I dropped down to assist if I could. A few minutes later, during a hold, I looked up and saw my guys looking down from the ridgeline, trying to figure out how to get here from there.

The "Lay On" was called, and as we started to push out of the gully, I looked up to see them come flying down the embankment like mountain goats, heading for me. They gathered themselves at the bottom, and started stacking bodies on their way to reenforce me. The push ended up being an all out drive knocking the allies back several hundred yards. But my folk heading down the hill to rescue me... that sight will stay in my heart forever.

During the bridge battles, Tiberius had Wolfhaven lead the series of pulse charges to knock the allies back to the end of our bridge. The Queen called us over by name to give us her favor. All in all... we had a pretty great time, and guys, in case I didn't tell you... I am proud of you all.

Entire hirð (those who could attend) including archer.

making an axe

*NOTE: I NO LONGER USE RATTAN EDGES. I AM LEAVING THE INSTRUCTIONS AS THEY ARE FOR CONSTRUCTION DETAILS... BUT I NO LONGER FEEL IT NECESSARY. I STILL USE LEATHER ON THE EDGE TO PROTECT IT.*

The axe design I currently use is based around the axe heads produced by By My Hand Designs. They have a variety of designs, from simple axes like the one I use here, to Maciejowski bible choppers. 

 Step one is the haft. Figure out what length is right for you. My primary axe I use for singles is between 4 and 5 feet long, my war axe is just over 6' long. Use thicker rattan... 1.5" minimum. You will need thicker so that you can shave the sides flat. Axe requres you to have MUCH better edge control, and a round stave can result in it rolling in your hands. You will also need to make a flat spot where the axe head will be glued to the rattan with the adhesive.

For adhesive, I use E6000. It is a very strong adhesive brought to us by the same folks who make the GOOP family of adhesives. It holds fast, and cures relatively quickly (about 24 hours). It lasts well in high and low temperatures, and is somewhat flexible. I have literally had a weapon head rip before the adhesive gave way, and then used the adhesive to repair the rip. It is available at many craft or hardware stores, and through Amazon.

If you are going to use a rattan clacker on the edge of your axe, you must first curve the rattan to match the curve of the axe.
Actually, no... you must first check with your Kingdom Earl Marshal to make sure it's legal where you are. Sir Stephen approved it here in the East, and I used it at Pennsic with no issue. I have made a second one with a leather striking edge... mainly to provide protection for the edge of the head itself.
So... there are a couple of ways to curve the rattan. It is easiest with a long piece... simply curve it between two stationary points... heavy spikes, posts, or the like. Emphasis on the large... this will generate A LOT of torque. Bend past the point you think you will need... it will snap back. For smaller pieces, you can try bending it around a tree or stump with a HEAVY duty ratchet strap. This is NOT the optimal method... but can work.

Next, glue the head to the haft, and the rattan (or leather) to the face of the axe. You can do these steps separately if your rattan is not perfectly fitted to the face. Once it's glued, secure it snugly with a few strips of strapping tape. Now WALK THE F^CK AWAY! Seriously. You will be tempted to touch it, poke it, fiddle with and test it. Walk away for 24 hours. After that... we can continue. You have been warned.

Cat is there because... well, it's his house, innit?

I use another piece of the By My Hand architectural foam to the poll (back side) of my axe. I heartily recommend this... it is nice to have that backswing, and you can't strike with the back unless it's padded somehow. This will make it meet the letter of the law. Attatch with just a drop of glue... this won't have much stress on it... and tape it down.

Next, I add a strip of nylon webbing from the tip of the haft, over the head, and down to the haft right below the head. Tape down one end, then add tape as you go around the head. This helps keep the head from getting torn off if you get hooked on something, or it get's torqued when you strike. This doesn't mean you should take your axe out and get in a tug of war match with a dreadnought class shieldman. You shouldn't. It's an axe... it's meant to hit people.

Next, tape the head around the poll and haft with strapping tape. Get QUALITY tape. It makes a difference... higher number of threads in the tape equals more strength.

Then... tape it some more. No really. This is part of how I make my axe heads so strong. I have been fighting with axes for a decent number of years, and making them just as long... trust me on this.

Next, tape your axe with duct tape. Use many strips of tape, overlapping each. Don't try and spiral wrap it around like a sword or pole... use shorter strips, and have patience. Make sure they lay cleanly and are smoothed down. This is not just for esthetics, it is the last step in assuring a strong axe. Add edge tape, and cover over the strapping tape above and below the head.

The last step before taking your axe out and dealing wholesale violence with it is, in my opinion, the most important. Put on your gear, and have somebody who knows how to throw a shot hit you with it. If you are not willing to get hit by a weapon you have made... you should not be swinging it at another human.

After this, go forth and fight your axe. I do recommend that before you do, you lay hands on an actual version of the weapon you're using. I tried out a steel Dane axe, and it changed how I fought mine completely.

But that... is another blog post. :)

First video blog: Leg Wraps, the Uncle Olaf way.

So... leg wraps. Winengas. Puttees. There's as many different ways to put them on as there are names for them.
I do mine thusly: Lay them out flat, face up, the your hook tabs toward you. Roll the hook tabs inside, then follow these simple directions...

Uncle Olaf on wealth

Ber er hver að baki nema sér bróður eigi.- The Story of Burnt Njáll

Bare is the back of a brotherless man. This phrase came to mind during the pregnancy of my wife and I. When told that we were not planning an baby shower, some people responded "What, are they independently wealthy?" My first response was anger, but the reality is, the answer is yes. Not in money... neither my wife or I make much. The arrival of our son has been made easier in large part do to the fact that we are wealthy in one of the few things that matter... friendship. All of our baby clothing, crib, car seat, etc... all from friends. Help with child care. Help during the labor, and after when we came home. Friends.

I have AMAZING friends. I am blessed with a great SCA Household, and with a myriad of other friends that absolutely humble me.

I have friends that I trust, very literally, with my life. I have had, on occasion, the need to ask a variety of things from my friends... and they have ever amazed me with their support.

My friends make my SCA life what it is.... giving me a group of people who are dynamic and outgoing, not only helping me, but making the game a positive experience for other by pitching in and making events happen and things run smoothly. They fight by my side, and help me improve. They constantly help to make me strive to be a better person.

My friends have been there in difficult times in mundane life. I have had friends help me move, help me clean and organize my shop and house, and help me repair my vehicles. I have had to call on friends to help when sick or injured. I have been in the rare position of calling on a friend to arm himself and stand by to defend others from possible violence. They have not let me down. Humbled.

So am I wealthy? You are damn right... in one of the only things that matters. Friends. I hope I prove myself, in time, worthy of their friendship.

Birkabirkabirka....

Market Day at Birka is an annual event in the East that draws a very large crowd. It is held in the Center of New Hampshire at the Radisson Hotel in Manchester. I refer to it as SCA-con. It has a huge convention center filled with the most merchants I have seen in one place aside from Pennsic, it has a slate of classes and meetings throughout the day, and it also has the Birka Bearpit Tournament.

I... really don't like fighting Birka. I do it every few years, just because, but I generally go to marshal. Inspections start at nine, and the tournament ends at 2... it makes a full day. Generally I then hit the merchants briefly before meetings, but I didn't actually get a chance to do that this year.

Had two meetings... marshal's meeting and Unbelts. The marshal's meeting was important this year, as we have a new Kingdom Earl Marshal, Sir Jibril al-Dakhil. It was his first day on the job, and he used the meeting to pass down some guidelines to the marshals present, outlining our roles in marshaling fights, and a new system for censuring and sanctioning problem fighters in the future. Some concerns about the concept of "active marshaling" were addressed... namely, we as marshals will NOT be calling people dead, rather pointing out when something seems off. He also named some new deputies.... Sir Osgkar was named Earl Marshal Emeritus and will serve Jibril in an advisory role, Ryouko'jin Ironskies will be Deputy for Experimental Weapons, and I will be serving as Deputy for Rules & Clarifications.

The Unbelts meeting was interesting because as of right now, we don't technically have a team, captains,  a Chivalric advisor, or even an official fight at Pennsic, as negotiations are not fully underway. We discussed ideas for training, and drank some whiskey... it was kind of an awesome time. :)

After all this, I tried to go to the merchants quickly before Court... but I ran into so many friends that I didn't actually get to browse any merchants. I like talking to the friends better than spending money anyway...

I really wanted to be in Court for several reasons... first of all because Dalla was being made a part of Order of the Maunche. This is a pretty big deal, and I was very excited for her. I escorted her up when she was called in, and stepped back to wait till she was done... and it was a good thing I waited.
Part of the ceremony involves the presentation of a medallion with the badge of the order. One was being made for her... but had not arrived at Birka! Fortunately, I had one that I made for her as a separate gift in my pouch, and gave it to Their Majesties to present to her instead. It was carved stone, and had both the Maunche badge as well as the Silver Crescent, which she had been awarded previously.

A new member was added to the King's Order of Excellence as well, Lord Alexander Clarke from the Shire of Hadchester. Alexander does wonderful 14th century stuff, and has really gone out of his way to portray his persona in a period manner, including organizing period style deeds of arms. I was very excited to welcome him to the Order.

Icing on the cake for the evening was when two men who I greatly respect were inducted into the Order of the Pelican. Tiberius Iulius Rufus and his knight Sir Gareth were both made Peers of that order, and both well deserved. Tiberius has served as a shining example to me for many years in doing things in a period manner, and Sir Gareth has inspired me to try new crafts... it was due to an interaction with him at Pennsic a couple years ago that I started to embroider (though I'm not all that good at it).

All in all... it was an awesome day.

Jousting: In which Uncle Olaf gets banned from go-karts.

So I promised the esteemed Mr. Ringo a story... a story about go-karts. Stop me if you've heard this one. Actually don't... siddown and shut up. You know you like the story... unfortunately, this version is missing missing wild hand gestures, sound effects, and suffers from an excess of sobriety. Apologies. Drink some whiskey and pretend.

The following story is true to the best of my recollection. Any mistakes are purely mine, but I will probably blame you anyway. Names have not been changed to protect the innocent, because I have met them all, and they're really not all that innocent...

So years ago, early in my SCA days, Dwarf had a birthday party at his place in Vermont. This was not an SCA event, though most of us there were in the SCA, including our Princess (at the time) Marieke. During the day we had some fighting and other assorted games, including "kaber tossing" with 4x4 posts.

The fighting had would down and the bunch of us from Outpost had packed to leave when someone got a brilliant idea... let's joust! On go-karts!!! For the record... everyone involved was sober (at the time).

"We need to go." I said. "Now".
"No, let's stay, I want to watch!!!"
"If we stay, I WILL end up on one of the karts."
"It will be fine!!!"

So the rules were decided on... the small karts would hold (barely) one driver and one "jouster". The jouster had to balance precariously on the side of the kart with a spear in one hand while the driver played the part of the horse... making them go and aiming them in the (more or less) right direction. They decided that only the jouster needed to be armoured (helm and body armour) as the driver was off limits. Seemed reasonable... All this worked out, they armed and armoured themselves, and got ready to joust.

As far as I recall, the teams were Dwarf & Wulfhere on one kart, and Egil & Cenwulf on the other. As Egil walked by the spectators getting his helmet ready, one of the bystanders said "I have a bad feeling about this."
"Me too!" said Egil... then he put on his helmet and hopped on the kart. Now anyone wo has EVER met Egil knows, when he says something is a bad idea, you really should very quickly reach minimum safe distance... if there is one.

They made several passes around the yard, and it seemed Egil's kart wasn't really maneuvering well or getting up speed. It came to a halt in front of me, Cenwulf tumbling out of the driver's seat.

"I need a lighter driver... get on!!!" said Egil.

What was I to do? No choice, really... I got on.

At the point we switched, Dwarf was on the other side of the house. All he knew was that we were suddenly tearing by at a much higher rate of speed. I quickly realized that I could only really turn right... if I turned the other way, it dumped Egil off the side, possibly getting him run over.
We made a few passes, with the jousters landing some good hits on each other. At one point when a spear grazed my ear, I thought to myself "Huh... maybe a helmet would have been a good idea..."

Shortly after this, after turning around at the top of the yard, things went sideways. I realized that my trajectory was such that I was faced with a choice. I wasn't going to clear the other kart... I could either hit them head on, hit the crowd of spectators (which included the Princess), or crank the wheel left, hope Egil survived the fall from the kart, and hope I could spike the brakes in time to not slam into the trees that were there.

I chose the last option, as it seemed to endanger the fewest people.... I cranked left hard, and lo and behold Egil didn't fly off! Yay! Except... Egil was leaning down hard on my gas pedal foot... and we went full speed into the trees.

When we hit, Egil went flying off, ripping his helmet off and cutting his chin when he landed. My death grip on the steering wheel snapped it off in my hands, and the shattered remains of the steering column cut my leg... making a near perfect flyflot, the mark of Thor's hammer.

Everyone came running to check me out. Only one person went to look at Egil... and she happened to be young, pretty, and wearing a skirt. Everyone decided I was fine when I told them to move because they were blocking my view. (I really am a terrible person, fundamentally...)

After getting the bleeding from my leg stopped, and apologizing to Dwarf for breaking his go-kart (sorry again Dwarf...) I went to apologize to Egil. Told him "Sorry dude... I tried to stop, but you were leaning on my gas pedal leg..."

"That was awesome driving man!" he replied. "Of course I was leaning on your leg, I didn't want you to STOP!!!"

My wife banned me from go-karts for years after that....

Snorri Olafsson: How Uncle Olaf has a son

So the posts referring to Snorri as my son has caused several people ask "But Uncle Olaf... you and Dalla are expecting your first child... how do you already have a son? And how is he a grown adult when you're so young?"

The answer to that question is simple: he's my son because we say so.
I was raised with a very clear understanding that family is more than blood. Raised by my aunt and uncle, I grew up calling them Ma and Dad... because that's what they were. I knew my blood mother and father. I called (and still call) them mom and dad. But I recognized and valued the connection that I had with the ones who raised and cared for me. I had other aunts, uncles, grandparents... who were no biological relation. They took on surrogate roles for me, and they considered themselves family because that is what I considered them.

When I got involved in the SCA, I was adopted into the family of Harald Ulfsson. He called me son, and his family... both SCA and mundane... became mine. When I first started forming our own SCA House, I very much considered all of those members family. I still do.

Snorri got involved with our local group in college. He began hanging out with a member of my House, and then with us. He worked in my shop, and spent many a project night doing his homework for college seated at the bar while I worked on projects. Eventually he got more involved with the SCA, and went from being Nate to Snorri... and we decided he needed a last name. Norse naming practices would have his name followed generally by a descriptor or a patronymic (or both). There were exceptions, but put simplistically, this is how it went.

After several suggestions and discussions, Snorri asked if it was OK if he used the patronymic "Olafsson", as I had been something of a surrogate father to him. I was humbled. To be told that meant alot, and I agreed. I also made sure to impress upon him how seriously I took that. I consider him my son... for real. When our baby is born, it will know Snorri as its brother... because that's what he is. I have had people say "Well, he's not REALLY your son"... well, bullshit. Being adopted doesn't make a family less of a family.

Snorri now has a daughter, and I consider her my grandchild. They are my family because Snorri wished it so, and I was proud to have him.

Dalla and our grand bebe Haley 

Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad - "I know your name as my child"- Mandalorian adoption vow
It seemed appropriate....

On Object Lessons, or: Snorri's Reliquary

Object lessons are very important tools at Uncle Olaf's School of Hard Knocks. You can tell people things over and over, and they will smile and nod.... and sometimes even do what they are told... but there will, occasionally, be that moment when something happens to bring them sudden and clear understanding. And sometimes first aid.

My son Snorri had one of these moments a couple of years ago at Pennsic. We were down in the woods battle when I noticed that Snorri wasn't wearing what I would consider adequate hand protection behind his shield. I pointed out this folly... I felt that he could easily have his hand injured with the light street hockey glove he was wearing. He responded "But hand protection isn't required behind my shield...".
He was, of course, correct. The rules do indeed state that "A shield alone may be considered an equivalent to full hand protection only if no part of the gloved hand or wrist is within 4 inches (10.2 cm) of the edge of the shield while the shield is in use."
But... there's the rules, and there's good sense... and I knew people that had their hands injured recently. I told him to ask Sir Rhys about wearing adequate hand protection, as he had recently had one such injury.

Sometimes life does not wait long to deliver object lessons. This was one such time.

The next day in the field battles, I had to sit out due to equipment failure, so I was up at camp packing up. A breathless runner came into camp looking for me, informing me that Snorri was at chirurgeon's point injured. Dalla and I flew down there with all the speed we could muster. I entered the tent to see Snorri on the bed... with a hand wrapped in bloody bandages. I didn't have to say a word... he looked at me and said "I DIDN'T TALK TO SIR RHYS YET!!!"

*sigh

His thumbnail had been ripped mostly off, and was hanging on by just a small corner. It would have to be removed, and the nail bed covered up. This would require local anesthetic. Turns out the reason they sent for me was that Snorri has a real problem with needles, and wasn't going to allow them to stick him. I sat beside him and took his other hand, and the doc took the injured hand. I then palmed Snorri's face and held it down, and told the doc to do his thing. The anesthetic was only sorta working... but I pointed out to the doc that sorta was probably good enough, and to keep going.

He ripped the remnant of the nail off, and stitched a small aluminum cover to the nailbed. It was nice work...

Snorri, who we mentioned was still feeling much of this, began to cuss. Alot. Repeating "fuckfuckfuck" like a mantra. As there were people present... many, by this point... I tried to distract him and get him saying something else. The "something else" ended up being the refrain to "Sophia" by the Cruxshadows. We repeated it together over and over while they stitched the metal thumbnail on. Dalla tells me it got quiet, and everyone watched in awe through this. It was apparently a pretty solemn moment....

Do not injustice to another

Defend the weak and innocent

Let truth and honor always guide you

Let courage find a life within

Stand up when no one else is willing

Act not in hatred or in spite

Be to this world as a perfect knight

Even if it means your life

The Reliquary on the wall of Wolf's Den Pub

During all this, one of the nurses... a former combat medic... was standing by. He asked if he could take pictures of the injury. I said sure, as long as he sent me copies. We also took the ripped off nail.
When they asked me why, I told them... it was going in a reliquary on the pub wall. When we got home, it did just that, and remains there to this day... a reminder, if you ask Snorri... to ask Rhys.

Time to refocus: Uncle Olaf and his axe.

At our annual Outpost event Fall Frolic in September, we have our Shire Championship tournament. This is a tournament held to determine the rattan champion for the Shire for the coming year. Not really making a conscious decision, I fought the tournament solely with my axe. I used it in all my fights till the finals against Rhys, and then basically decided to "dance with the one that brought me"... and finished the tournament with it.

This event, and a look back at the last few months of fighting prompted a decision to refocus my energies on my axe fighting. I built a new axe, as close as possible to my steel dane axe, and have fought with only axes since then. I did fight sword and shield at one Coldwood practice, against Aiden.

It has been good for me, I think. I had become a bit complacent in throwing shots I knew worked much of the time, and stopped exploring what the axe could really do. Fighting the axes every practice (both my shorter dane axe and longer war axe) against whatever weapons forms my opponents were fighting really made me step back and evaluate what the axe is capable of doing, and figure out how to make myself capable of letting it do that. I have also been watching some axe tutorials on Youtube...  ones I have watched before, but going over them again and picking up stuff, or remembering things I forgot. Duke Eikbrandr's video and Duke Tomuki's videos are some of my favorites.

I have focused keeping the tempo up and firing multiple shots... not just combos, but  shots to displace shields and then strike, or shots to set my opponents stance or move them where I want them. This, combined with the faster tempo, can create gaps in or completely overwhelm a defense. It requires more stamina... I am moving an axe quickly and alot... so I have tried to work on that.

One of the ways I have been working on stamina, tempo, and targeting is by using an axe. Not my SCA rattan axe, but a steel one. In a blog by Christian Cameron he discusses what he believes to be

an important training tool in period... chopping wood. I agree with most of his points, and during Closing of the Inne this year, when I could not fight due to an injury, I chopped wood. ALOT of wood.... all weekend. Wood really is the fuel source that warms you twice... once when you chop it, once when you burn it. It also, as Mr. Cameron discusses, really requires technique and precision to chop wood well. You need to place multiple strikes with a small blade at precise angles in a very small target area... say half an inch or so. Repeatedly. This is exactly the kind of thing that trains you to strike at small openings in a defense, or to MAKE those holes and capitalize on them.

So here I sit, three months later, looking at what this focus has bought me. I definitely feel more competent with the axe most of the time. I still have those derp moments where the brain just stutters... that happens.

But generally, I feel pretty good about it. I have been able to make Sir Rhys have to respond to my attacks and change his defense instead of feeling like I am playing his game all the time, and that's definitely an improvement. I have been told to focus on movement and speed, working on controlling range, and that's valid. I do tend to get sucked into brawls, which isn't always good.

I definitely need to travel more... occasionally I get to Coldwood and Harrowgate Heath, but I would love to do more. Time and money limit me there... and will probably continue to do so.

If you see me at an event... pick a fight. I need to work against a variety of different forms, so don't feel like you need to match weapons (though I am always happy to discuss axe).

Seven Wonders: what a badass looks like

Back when I was a boy in school, we got a cat. We had barn cats when I was growing up, but this cat was dropped off down at the woodlot we had recently purchased as a kitten. This was miles down a dirt road, out in the woods. Foxes and other predators around, no shelter aside from what was in nature. The cat survived. My dad started calling her Seven Wonders... because, he said, it's a wonder she survived. And man, did she survive. She hunted mice, chipmunks, squirrels and even rabbits. Yes, rabbits. I watched her take them down, fully grown, at a dead run. They were close to the same size as her. That cat turned into a full fledged badass. Not a strutting around cock of the walk badass. The calm, quiet type who is totally chill as they kill every fucking body in the room. Case in point:

One of our family friends had a dog. Now... Seven Wonders actually had no problem with dogs. Coexisted peacefully... would play with dogs, lie down with them, groom them. Totally chill. As long as they were.

This dog... wasn't. Prince was a German Shepherd dog, who used to (we were told) be a police dog. He hated you. He didn't know you... but he hated you. He loved his owner Don... but everyone else could pretty much fuck right off. He wasn't generally openly aggressive... he just made it clear that you were perfectly fine right over there, thank you very much. Except that day.

Don drove up and got out of the truck, then walked onto the back porch with my dad and I. Prince looked from the truck bed and saw Seven Wonders sitting there next to the barn grooming her paw. He then said "Well... I think I'm gonna go kill that". He came tearing out of the back of the truck, and angry streak of fur, fangs and growling, heading straight for the cat. I had no time to react... nor was I stepping in front of the dog. All I could do was watch as he killed my cat.

Except... Seven Wonders didn't feel like dying that day. Was feeling pretty chill... kinda lazy. Nice and sunny, perfect day to groom her paw and sit there. The dog coming toward her obviously wanted a fight, but she had no desire to fight. So what she did was simply fuck him right up, no fighting involved.

As Prince lunged for her, you can probably imagine her puffing up and hissing, a flurry of claws. Nah... that shit is for amateurs. All she moved was one paw... the one she was grooming... and hooked her (very clean) claws right in the soft spot between his nose and the fur of his muzzle. Not scratched or swiped... hooked. And held....

Prince froze. He went from pissed off vehicle of death and anguish to submissive puppy in the blink of an eye. Not quite satisfied, Seven Wonders decided to not just end this fight, but every fight to come... she turned her paw over, still hooked in his nose, and lay him on his back. She held him there a moment till he whimpered a bit... then let him go. And went back to grooming her paw like he wasn't even there.

Prince got up, turned around, tail between his legs, and got in the back of the pickup. He never bothered the cat again.

That, kids, is what a true badass looks like.

It's been a while... a general Uncle Olaf update.

We have established before that I suck at regular blog updates. Never could keep a journal or calendar updated either. One more of my failings...
So, a blog post to update is in order. I did a couple after I came back from Pennsic, but I am going to run through my year real quick. A lot has happened in the last twelve months. Yes, I know this is basically one of those bullshit year in review blog posts. Cope.

• Dalla and I became land owners. We have purchased just shy of 40 acres about 30 miles from where we currently live. The property belonged to my SCA father and Pelican, Harald. It's a mix of woodland and fields, and is a pretty awesome place. We are not moving immediately... there are still other family members living there, and if we do move, it won't be till 2016. We are using the property though, cutting some wood, hiking, etc. We actually are doing a "Winter Medieval Fun Day"... an in-garb day of snowshoeing, skiing, etc. What I would REALLY love to do is start my commune (see this post) with members of my House... but the logistics are daunting.

• Dalla and I are also expecting a baby in early February. We made the decision last August to try, and after a couple of setbacks, we are happily on our way. We have had a massive outpouring of generous hand me downs and hand made stuff from friends, and things are looking great. Our friends and House members have been procreating as well, and it's possible we will have 5 or so infant to toddler age children in camp at Pennsic.
• Both our jobs are changing. Dalla took over as director of the arts council where she works mundanely, and I am getting a sort of promotion... more of a re-tasking and clarification of duties. 
• I have begun doing archery in the SCA. I am now a ranked archer in the Kingdom, and have purchased my first bow, a hickory longbow. The bow draws at 55#, and is finished with linseed oil and beeswax. I am also getting involved with a group called St. Hubert's Rangers, a group who does medieval hunts. I will begin hunting with my medieval gear this year, starting with small game. I have had a custom set of small game blunts made, and will be ordering arrows for those and some broadheads. 

Photo by Alex Hostetter

• My House became land holders at Coldwood. We have an agreement with Baron Stephen Grandchamp; in exchange for labor in maintaining the site and a military alliance, we have a holding at Coldwood that we can clear, improve, and have a campsite. It is, quite frankly, pretty friggin awesome. We have cleared a good section and added a fire pit, and camped there for Opening and Closing.

All in all, it's been a good year. Ups and downs, of course... but good. The next year is going to be more big changes, with the baby arriving in February, and we're looking forward to it. My House continues to make me proud, and I can't wait to share the adventure with them.

Making a sword thrusting tip, the Uncle Olaf way

OK, so you’ve bought your stick of rattan, and are ready to make a “sword” for SCA combat. Yes, I know it’s not a real sword. Duh. However, for our purpose, it’s a sword simulator… and you will want it to last as long as possible.

First, the bad news… swords are a consumable in our game. Actual lifespan will vary. Mine last me, on average, about a month. This is the method I have come up with (borrowing from several other ways of doing it) that works best for me.

Materials:

• rattan stave
• hilt or basket
• foam for thrusting tip
• nylon webbing
• strapping tape
• duct tape
• cutting implement (scissor or knife)
• (optional) vice

First… cut the stick to length and shape it to your guard. Might be a basket hilt… in which case, pretty much all you’ll have to do is shape the handle the way you like it. I use By My Hand creations “Big Boy” hilt. This is a one piece hilt.handle/pommel that sockets your stick down into it. The “Big Boys” are the version with a slightly larger opening, so you don’t have to taper your stick down at quite so extreme an angle. I actually shim mine with a bit of rattan so the socket doesn’t provide direct pressure on the blade portion.

I start the blade taping with the thrusting tip. You will need the tip itself… either a pre-cut, from someone like Baron Erik, or make your own with whatever foam you prefer. In my Kingdom, we require ¾” of foam with ⅜” of give across the face of the tip. I use two layers of ½” foam that when taped are just a hair under an inch. I cut two circles the same diameter as my stick and tape them together with strapping tape.

Take your first length of nylon webbing and cut it so that it will go 8-10” down both sides of your sword over the thrusting tip. Now cut another identical piece. The purpose of these strips (and all the strapping tape we will be using) is threefold… one, it keeps the weapon “wrapped in a manner that allows no rattan splinters to protrude” (straight from the Rules of the List) and two, it helps keep the rattan from brooming out, and three, it keeps your thrusting tip in place.

Over time, with the repeated impact from smiting your foe in a righteous manner, the structure of the rattan breaks down. With the linear, fibrous nature of rattan, this results in “brooming”.... the rattan splintering apart at the tip, but remaining together further down… like a broom. A sword that has done this will not hit as solidly as when it was undamaged, obviously. The webbing helps keep the rattan undamaged longer, and holds it together when it is beginning to break down.

I put two strips on… one goes side to side, the other straight over the edge portion of the sword. I only go down 8-10”, covering the foible, or weak portion of the sword. This is where you will (or should) be landing most of your blows, so it will be the part of the sword that breaks down fastest. I put the side strip on, and fasten it in place with strapping tape. I then pot the edge portion on. This order provides the most support to your thrusting tip. The way this is done... it is next to impossible to lose a tip.

After both are tacked in place with the strapping tape, use of said tape begins in earnest. As I discussed in my making an axe blog, judicious use of high quality strapping tape is important. The tape gives added protection to your blade, and added strength. I wrap a spiral of strapping tape up the full distance of the section I covered in nylon webbing. Wrap it as tight as you can, and try to keep it as smooth as possible. Continue all the way up to the very end of the tip, tight around the thrusting tip but not crushing it. It has to stay the same diameter as your weapon. 

Now use strips of strapping tape and tape your sword lengthwise along the blade. Cover the whole blade… if you are using narrow tape, this may require several strips, if wider, two may do it. Once again… make it as smooth as possible. Every wrinkle is going to show through your final tape.

Next, duct tape. Once again, tape lengthwise along the blade as smoothly as possible. I tape along each side first, then a narrow piece on each “edge” if needed.
Lastly, add your edge tape and tip marking. I use either a narrow strip of duct tape, or, if I have it, black athletic tape. I then add red tape to the tip, because Ealdormere (where I sometimes play) requires a third color for thrusting tips.

 Lastly… bask in the glory of your finished sword, and tip back a nice stout (or porter).

 Lastly… bask in the glory of your finished sword, and tip back a nice stout (or porter).

Remember to add a lanyard or trigger, as required by the rules.
My swords weigh in about the same (a few ounces heavier, actually) as the real steel swords they are based on. They balance 4-5” out from the hilt. They ain’t steel swords… but they are about as good as I am going to get within the constraints of our game.


-All photos by David Monahan