The History of The Hockey Stick from Heck

It's been just over a year that I have been fighting with my curved sword and the biggest thing I've noticed is that people tend to refer to it as a scimitar. It's not.

Scimitars are curved swords that originated in the Middle East and first appeared in Persia of the 9th Century. The term scimitar has actually come to cover sever different styles of weapons including the Saif, the Shamshir, the Talwar and the Dao. Like their later cousin, the saber, Scimitars saw great use by cavalry because of their relatively light weight and the ease of slashing cuts due to their curved blade. While Scimitars are probably the most famous type of curved swords in period, they weren't the only ones.

The Grosses Messer - or Hiebmesser - was a German single-edged sword similar to a Falchion with a straight cross-guard in use from the 14th through the 16th centuries. These were less expensive than other swords of the time and were seen as both tools and weapons (think machete) and so were more common among the lower classes.

Another curved sword from Germany is the Kreigsmesser. A Kriegsmesser (Literally, "War Knife") is a large, curved, single-edged two-handed sword roughly the same length as the long sword or hand-and-a-half sword and popular in the 15th and 16th century. It got its name because the hilt resembled that of a knife handle, having two slabs of material on either side of the wide, flat tang. The robust tang and acute taper found in these swords made them handle well. The pommel was usually curved towards one side, while the cross guard was frequently equipped with a ring, plate, or lug for additional hand protection. The Kreigsmesser was primarily used by professional soldiers, most notably the Landsknechts. The Kreigmesser's curved geometry allowed the edge to have more surface area in contact with the target while cutting, thus giving it superior slashing capabilities. Its blade length was normally between 33" and 36" inches and had a 10" to 12" hilt. And although these blades were usually single edged and curved, there are surviving examples which sport a wide variety of blade types.

The third example of European curved swords I've studied is the Swiss Saber. These were popular between the 15th and 17th Centuries with a long, gently curving blade that tapered evenly to the tip. And there are accounts of Swiss Sabers having edged backsides as well. With a grip that could accommodate two hands, this blade was most likely an evolution of the Grosses Messer and Kreigsmesser. The hilts came in a variety of designs, with recurved quillions and/or rings and knuckle guards. These swords tended to be slightly shorter than a hand and a half sword, but still had hilts long enough for two-handed use.

So, which one is mine? Mine is styled after a Swiss Saber, complete with sharpened false edge. Yes, it's longer than a standard Swiss Saber, but then I'm longer than a standard Swiss soldier of the time.

When Are You Going to Suit Up?

I'm sure I'm not the only one who's ever been asked why I don't do armored fighting. When I'm asked, I usually respond with something along the lines of "I'm not that interested in it." Which, while it tends to confuse people (if I'm interested in fencing, how can I not be interested in armored fighting?), isn't completely true. And it definitely wasn't true when I started in the SCA. Back then, it was fighting that I wanted to do. I started with fencing because there wasn't anyone local who fought armored. So I fenced, and whenever I got the chance, I'd strap on a set of loaner armor and play heavy. And I like to think I had some promise as an armored fighter, even if I wasn't good.

And when I got married, I even put together a suit of armor and made it on the field a time or two. After all, I had a lady now, and there was no way I was going let myself be unable to answer a challenge to her, no matter the style of the issuer. So what happened? Well, let me tell you. One day at fighter's practice (it was early summer, just before Uprising), we were doing a melee practice and I did a perfect wrap, my blade crossing my opponent's back from shoulder to hip. Let me tell you: it was beautiful. At least until he screamed and dropped to the ground. You see, it wasn't an armored practice, it was rapier. And I'd just done a full-strength wrap with an epee (they were still legal then) to an essentially unarmored person. Luckily, I'd hit him with the flat and the blow was spread across a large enough area that all he got was one wicked bruise. But let me tell you: it was a wake-up call. I realized I had trouble avoiding armored moves while fencing.

So I did a couple things to keep from doing something like that again. The first was that I changed the guards on my swords and the way I gripped them so that they were unlike how I would hold a stick. The way muscle memory works (for me, at least) is that if the muscles (my hand) aren't in the right position, the memory doesn't come to the surface. The other thing was to give away my armor and give up armored fighting. I was more interested in fencing - and was a better fencer - so it was the logical one to keep. Yes, I lost the ability to champion my lady wife in armored combat, but even then, her brother was showing promise and had a reputation as someone you didn't want to get annoyed with you. And nowadays, well... good luck and we'll throw you a nice funeral.

In the intervening fifteen years, I have progressed to the point where I don't think I'd have trouble mixing my styles, but fencing is still my first love (how can you argue with something that's brought both good friends and a wife who's more than I deserve?) and so I'll leave the armored fighting for others.

We're Nuts

Now I realize that people have been questioning my sanity for years, but I'm beginning to think it's not just me. In fact, most northern fencers are nuts. Think about it. The tournament at last month's Twilight in Valhalla had six fencers, all but two of whom were from out of shire. I know, that doesn't seem like much, but most of the state was socked in by a storm that had dropped 6 inches of snow by the time gate opened. Okay, so that's a pretty mild sanity check: most northern Artemisians know how to drive in blizzards. But then you have to add in that we were fencing outdoors. Yes, we did manage to find an area clear of snow, but we were still talking about temperatures right around 20. The spectators had fun, though. They were sledding while we fought.

If this were an isolated case, I'd be less willing to call ourselves cuckoo, but it wasn't a one-time deal. The weather the weekend before at Silverkeep's Birthday Bash wasn't quite as bad (no fresh snow), but the temperature was about the same and we definitely caught they eye of several skiers who happened by. Or there was last year's Twilight in Valhalla: fencing in snow and single digits. It almost seems that the worse the weather, the more fencers you'll get. Like I said, we're nuts.

I've even noticed that several fencers up here have separate sets of fencing gear specifically for the cold weather (or is it separate sets specifically for the warm weather?). Albion's got his massively overbuilt fencing jacket that only sees use between November and March and Cormac's furs are far better suited to the snow than Uprising. I haven't gone that far, but I do have a coat that was designed to go over my fencing gear so I can fight without freezing.

Of course, I like to think that we're not nuts: it's our passion for fencing that keeps us out playing in the snow long after most people (and even armored fighters) have come in from the cold. But whatever the reason, you can count on the fencers of Northern Artemisia to be ready, no matter the weather.