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Guys,
I actually want to tell a story with this missive. The story was told at a Grey Niche Samhain during an SCA history contest. At that time, Hammerhold was in one of its many "Larval Stages" where the shire consists of entirely new members. We, at the time, didn't have any long time members other than (at the time) Lady Bridgette and (at the time) Lord Thomas of Ellesbury (I may be wrong about the alphabet soup, and I know I spelled the names wrong). Those two excellent gentles were a big help, but they weren't as available as we wanted. I don't think that ANY two people could have been, however. I remember this story as being told by Thoric Leftwing, one of the Old Eagles, of the Branch that became the Talons. He has since told me that he had never heard this story, and it must have been told by someone else. I do have some memory problems, so he is probably right. Just a little reminder, it is just about the right time to get your Pennsic pre registrations in. I got my Pre reg in for both Pennsic and Gulf Wars back in Nevember. This is Pennsic XXX. I pronounce that Pennsic "triple X". I hope that you all can make it. Mom and Dad have said that they almost certainly going tio be there this year, and that's always fun. I also need to ask The Lovely Lady Susanna (I really hope I spelled that right) to put a disclaimer in front of the stories I sent to the web page. It needs to go: freiman notes that he did not see this, he is only repeating what he heard, and thus the story is almost certainly wrong. So, with no further ado, Once upon a time there was a fighter who's name has been changed (to protect the minstrel) to Bob. Bob was a martial artist who worked out religously and was always looking for new ways to spice up his workouts. One day, during a particularly satisfying workout, Bob said to a fellow student "you know, I'd like to go full contact with weapons, just once." And his friend replied "I know some folks who do that, sort of. We meet at Auduvon Park every Sunday. It's called fighter practice" Bob was intrigued. He went out, and after some few words concerning the white belt he respectfully wore with his gi, Bob took to fighting like a fish takes to water. His footwork was excellent. He was quick. He hit fairly hard, but not too hard. He was Big, well over six feet, and he was a really nice guy. He quickly realized that he preferred fighting to Karate, but he knew that time in the Dojo equated to victory on the field. He bought himself some used armor. He polished it twice, and then shined it up again. He made himself a HUGE plywood sheild, and painted it black. He spent a happy couple of months slugging it out on the practice field. It was high summer, and Bob spent it awash in gatorade and endorphins. The girls were wearing scanty, summer clothes, and they seemed to really like Bob. Then one day, his friend told him, "Most of the guys are going to an event next week, do you wanna come?" Bob was fascinated, but wary. "What exactly is an event?" he asked. "It's like a tournament, only this one is the big one, all the best fighters will be there." "Where is it?" Bob asked. "In Pennsylvania. I'll help you with the stuff you need, and I need somebody to split the gas with." ***************** Bob was off at Pennsic War for war week. He was a good boy on monday. He fought all day, and then he went back to camp, ate a bowl of rice, and then went to bed. "He was good boy on tuesday. He was a good boy on wednesday. He was a good boy on thursday. But then on friday, when bunch of Black Belts (I mean White Belts) who had been expecting to run into Bob at parties followed Bob back to camp. Bob had a beer with Sir Gawain, and Sir Bedevere, and Sir Galahad, and the rest of the round table to boot. He ended up drinking Tequilla with a bunch of Knights whos names he never could remember. He got back to his tent at about four thirty, and crashed hard. Bob was camped on the Serengetti, which means he didn't need an alarm clock. He was up at eight, but he wished he had been dead instead. His stomache rebelled at being verticle, but didn't get any better when he laid back down. He didn't geel any better when he drank a beer for breakfast, so he decided to splurge on a Pennsic Breakfast. Pennsic breakfasts are good, and plentiful, but they are a little greasy. It didn't help when he put two big cups of coffee on top of the whole thing. All those substances in his stomache were arguing, and it looked like there was going to be some serious violence on the abdominal front. Bob got his armor together, and went down to the woods, to fight in the woods battle, about two miles from where he was camped. For those of you who are not fighters, the easiest way to carry your helmet, weapons and sheild two miles on foot, is to wear it. Bob figured this out quickly. Bob also realized that he should have replaced the foam that padded his helmet. He was sure that he could smell both of the previous owners. When Bob got to the muster point, he sat quietly in the shade and let his stomache calm down. He was sitting quietly in the shade when the king of the East Kingdom wandered by. He wasn't feeling so good himself, but he was better off than Bob was. His Majesty was also about five foot three. His Majesty thought "Look at that big guy. Boy that armor has been around, but he takes good care of it. He must have been fighting for a long time. And look at that look on his face! Boy, am I glad he's on my side!" Bob was thinking, "I'm never gonna take another drink as long as I live." His Majesty strolled up to Bob, and said, "You're that guy from the field battle, I want you to be in my personal Bodyguard!" Bob, unaware of the honor he had just been offered, said "yeah, sure, tell me where to stand". The king told him, and wandered off, heartily impressed. ************ Bob was in the front rank of the Great Eastern Army as it wound like a great snake into the black opening in the woods. They hadn't proceded a hundred yars when a little guy with diamonds on his helmet ran up, flushed and excited, and told the king, "I found their Banner! It's just down the path about fifty yards, then left through the thornbushes, across the ditch, over the blackberry patch, then straight on throught the bushes! They aren't ready! You can surprise them!!" The king raised the royal sword and said loudy "Alright Men!" Which to Bob meant "charge". To everybody else thought this meant "hey ya'll, listen up, I'm gonna tell you something, so put your helmet on and shut up or you wont hear it!" But they noticed that Bob was off, running down the path. It took them a couple of seconds to realize what was going on. Bob ran down the path, through the thornbushes, across the ditch, through the blackberry patch, and out into the clearing that contained the Midrealm banner. Bob was not noticing the fact the all the rest of the army seemed to have disappeared. He had more importanyt things on his mind. The things he had put in his stomache had gotten together, and had decided that maybe it was time for them to come up in the world. The even dozen midrealm knights guarding their kingdom's fabled banner were indeed uprepared, they were smoking cigarettes, leaning on their polearms, and talking about how hungover they were. They saw Bob enter the clearing, and noticed that he was alone. They looked again. Bob was still alone. The Midrealm knights decided to form up anyway, because they needed the practice. As Bob entered the clearing, he burped. That was the sign. Anybody who has ever made that burp knows what it means. About five steps out from the enemy sheildwall, Bob knew it wasn't going to be his day. About three steps outfrom the sheildwall, Bob knew it wasn't going to be the sheildwall's day. The inevitable occured. Quite a bit of the inevitable occurred, all over those Midrealm knights. Cries of "up the middle" became "sh*t!" and "you *sshole, this is Brocade! My girlfriend's gonna kill me". Then, oddly enough, one of those Midrealm knights began to use his own god given breath weapon.... and Another....and then there were more after that. About that time the Great Eastern Army came into the little clearing. His Eastern Majesty found, to his surprise, a sheildwall that was rapidly trying to get away from itself. He found Bob, humiliated, trying to become one with a rabbit hole. Bob, oddly enough, was spottlessly clean, unlike all the midrealm soldiers. He stood over Bob and said, "Kid, I don't know what you did, or how you did it, but I want you to do it again this afternoon in the mountain pass battle!" |