Armour Upgrade

This is the latest iteration of my armour. I've dropped the coif, and added a gorget and spaulders to the mix. In addition, I'm now wearing knee cops (not shown in this picture), and will be adding elbow cops, a breastplate and possibly a helm, and my kit will be complete.

I've originally aimed for a Milanese style kit, but my kit is starting to look more Early Gothic Transitional, which is just as well.









The rest of the demo team has obtained upgrades too. Here my knee cops are visible.





Tome and I are still primary sparring partners, even in demos. Tome prefers staying at a distance while I prefer going up close and punching/grappling. It's still a toss up whose style will eventually dominate. Here, the ending is scripted - it casts no aspersions on Tome's ability as a fighter, the pesky dance-around-er. :)



The boys with some well-deserved R&R after the demo.

Quote of the Day II

Scene: Greg briefs us for our latest demo. Most of us are clad in chainmail, some with bits of plate reinforcing vital points. One of my sword buddies, Uncle Chio, in particular has only recently started wearing chainmail regularly despite being a senior student.

Greg: Okay, Tome and KC will be doing 2nd and 3rd drill, Page and Josh will be doing 4th and 5th drill. The rest of you will stand around and look pretty. I know it's hard, but try.

-cue cheering, the loudest from Chio-

Greg: Oh wait, Uncle Chio will be reserve for 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th drill.

Me: -turning to Chio- Well, I guess it's true then. Chainmail doesn't stop arrows.

It Grows...

Warrior Bunny

In grand tradition of Bun-Bun and the Vorpal Bunny, I give you....



....Crusader Fluffy.

WHACK!

Contrary to Hollywood belief, a 3-kg sword made of solid wood striking someone's ribs at practically full-force does not in fact make a sound. Not unless the sword broke said ribs.

That day, I could have sworn I heard a loud resounding "WHACK!"

We were at swordfighting practice. A couple of seniors were taking turns with the instructor at free sparring. I was up next so I was watching intently. It was brutal and elegant. Twice I saw my instructor, Greg, let a blow or two slip by to strike his fencing mask. Most of the time, though, Greg dominated. The seniors were getting seriously owned.

Right up to the point where one of the attacks went awry.

It was a chest level blow. Greg moved to trap the blade under his arm - a legitimate move under the system we use, considering that the ribs would normally be protected by chain mail, plate and padding. One of the seniors mistimed his swing. Greg mistimed his shift. The result - bruised ribs.

Greg was left breathless for a while. I've never actually seen him in so much pain. I offered twice to drive Greg to get his ribs checked out, but he said he was okay. He was. That incident didn't take any edge off him when I sparred with him.

The incident reinforced in me how dangerous this activity can actually be. Tough as Greg is, we were all worried that a rib might have been broken.

It hasn't dissuaded me. Neither did the five thrusts in the face, the two swings to the head, the locked arm, the circular body shove that nearly sent me sprawling.

I'll get better. I must.

*****

Here's another project I'm working on. I'll leave the picture to do the talking.