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SCA-stories1-msg - 4/27/94


SCA stories related before 5/1/94.


NOTE: See also the files: SCA-stories2-msg, SCA-stories3-msg, SCA-hist1-msg, child-stories-msg, SCA-authors-msg, SCA-notables-msg, you-know-msg, vanity-plates-msg, royal-deaths-msg.





This file is a collection of various messages having a common theme that I have collected from my reading of the various computer networks. Some messages date back to 1989, some may be as recent as yesterday.


This file is part of a collection of files called Stefan's Florilegium. These files are available on the Internet at: http://www.florilegium.org


I have done a limited amount of editing. Messages having to do with separate topics were sometimes split into different files and sometimes extraneous information was removed. For instance, the message IDs were removed to save space and remove clutter.


The comments made in these messages are not necessarily my viewpoints. I make no claims as to the accuracy of the information given by the individual authors.


Please respect the time and efforts of those who have written these messages. The copyright status of these messages is unclear at this time. If information is published from these messages, please give credit to the originator(s).


Thank you,

    Mark S. Harris                  AKA:  THLord Stefan li Rous

                                          Stefan at florilegium.org



From: 21464RM%MSU.BITNET at MITVMA.MIT.EDU ("R. Miller")

Date: 25 Nov 89 02:29:16 GMT

Organization: Society for Creative Anachronism


We've never had such problems with our local law enforcement, though

I've heard tell of folks in costume at events on campus running afoul

of local weapons ordinances.  There was once, though, at a tournament

long ago two FBI agents doing a security clearance check on one poor

soul - they were trying to be inconspicuous at the end of the hall in

(no, I'm not kidding) trenchcoats and sunglasses.  Someone tried to

get them to put tunics on, but I don't think it worked. Amazingly

enough, the security clearance apparently went through...


       Roxanne of Bloekmedwe                :  R. Miller

       Barony of the NorthWoods, Midrealm   :  Okemos, MI



From: sean at ms.uky.edu (Sean Casey)

Date: 25 Nov 89 18:28:54 GMT

Organization: The Leaning Tower of Patterson Office  at The Univ. of KY


lmacquar at kean.mun.ca writes:


|Tumbling off a bank in fifty pounds of plate is still not a pleasant

|thought, however.  I have heard of fighters who leaped out of trees

|giving themselves SEVERE knee strains on landing.


When at my first SCA event, I watched a guy in plate lose his balance,

sidestep about 6 feet, do a small pirouette, then fall off a vertical

creek bank about 5 1/2 feet straight down onto a rocky creek bed. He

landed on his back about 20 feet from me.


There was such a *crash* that when everyone yelled "HOLD!" the fighting

had already stopped. People gathered around quickly. Someone pulled his

visor open and asked him if he was OK. He said "Yes, I'm fine, but I

can't get up." So three or four people assisted in levering him to an

upright position, he walked around the bank, and the battle resumed.


I suppose others have been less fortunate when taking a tumble in

armour, but this really amazed me. I guess they don't call it armour for





***  Sean Casey          sean at ms.uky.edu, sean at ukma.bitnet, ukma!sean

***  Copyright 1989 by Sean Casey. Only non-profit redistribution permitted.

***  "If you'll go to Joe B's, I'll buy. How's that sound?"  "Sounds free!"



From:    Alfgar the Sententious

To:      Stefen  

04-Dec-89 02:26pm

Subject: Re: farbiling


>> the truth from the BS - but what the Hel, i like a good

>> story as well as the next and biker confrontation ones

>> seem to be our version of the ethnic joke.

S> Only one or two involved bikers. Some were the mundane mugger

S> who in attacking a SCAdian got more than he bargained for. One

Not a "story"-- This happened to Koppel funem Laksfalk directly after his



* Origin: Opera=Deorum: Home of Baphonet-by-the-Sea



From:    Dave Aronson                              

To:      Justin du Coeur MKA Mark Waks

05-Dec-89 09:54pm

Subject: Re: Vis and the Serjeant


Unto all the good gentles of the Kingdom (?) of Rialto, I send greetings!

> Now, the gentleman in the tower above them was a worldly sort, who had

> encountered emissaries from our Kingdoms before. Noting Vis' inimitable

> style, he called down to the Serjeant, "Hey, ask him if he's in something

> called the SCA."


> The Serjeant leaned over to Vis, and shortly yelled back, "He says that

> he is. What's that mean?"


> The fellow in the tower said, "Means you can't beat him."


> Whereupon Vis tapped the Serjeant on the shoulder, and spoke to him a

> moment more. The Serjeant called up to the tower, "He's says he's a

> Knight. What's *that* mean?"


> Sayeth the tower, "Means *they* can't beat him, either."


The way I heard it, the gentle was not named, but the conversation went:

Tower: "Ask him if he's in the SCA."

Sarge: "He says he is.  What's that mean?"

T: "It means he knows how to use the thing.  Ask him if he's a knight."

S: "He says he is.  What's that mean?"

T: "It means you can't beat him.  Ask him if he's a duke."

S: "He says he is.  What's that mean?"

T: "It means *THEY* can't beat him either!"


* Origin: TIDMADT 703-370-7054: WOC 'n Woad with MEDIEVAL Echo! (1:109/120)



From: whh at PacBell.COM (Wilson Heydt)

Date: 8 Dec 89 17:23:50 GMT

Organization: Pacific * Bell, San Ramon, CA


I showed the story about Visivald in Basic Training to Duke Frederick

of Holland last night.  He relates that Vis told him that the third

time, the DI had three of his assistants help try to beat Vis--and Vis

got all 4 of them . . .


The final "exercise" of the pugil-stick training was a "bear pit"

operation.  All the recruits were given pugil-sticks a put in

a large pit.  Only one is supposed to come out.  After seeing what

Vis had done to the DI, everybody left him alone.  When there

was one other recruit left, Vis walked over to him and asked--


"Shall I hit you, or do you just want to fall down?"


The other recruit elected to fall down without being hit and Vis

walked out . . . .


Flieg is also fond of what happened to Theoderick of Skane one

day.  Theoderick pulled into a 7-11 lot and as he got out of his

car three young tuoghs came toward him.  He'd been fighting for a

few months at the time.  He reached into the back seat and pulled

out a field-legal sword.  On of the toughs took one look and told

his friends--  "Look out!  He's SCA!  He'll beat the shit out of us!"

Needless to say--the gang left abruptly.




        Hal Ravn, Province of the Mists, West Kingdom

        Wilson H. Heydt, Jr.,  Albany, CA 94706, 415/524-8321 (home)



Hal Heydt                    |Surely the end of the world is at hand:

Analyst, Pacific*Bell        |   Children no longer obey their parents

415-823-5447                 |   and *everyone* wants to write a book.

whh at pbhya.PacBell.COM        |     --from a Babylonian clay tablet



From: Algernon.Hartesmond at lcs.mit.edu, O.Troub. at lcs.mit.edu

Date: 12 Dec 89 18:24:24 GMT

Organization: Society for Creative Anachronism


} Date: 8 Dec 89 17:23:50 GMT

} From: Wilson Heydt <pacbell!pbhya!whh at AMES.ARC.NASA.GOV>

} Subject: Re: Vis in Basic Training


} I showed the story about Visivald in Basic Training to Duke Frederick of

} Holland last night.  He relates that Vis told him that the third time,

} the DI had three of his assistants help try to beat Vis--and Vis got all

} 4 of them . . .


I told Vis that the "pugil-stick in basic training" story had been

retold on the net.  He asked me which version.  "The one that ends

`...Means they can't beat him either,' I reported.


Vis says that one is false variant #4 -- he wasn't a knight yet, after

all.  We agreed, however, that it *is* a really good story, even better

than the original.  He admitted that it was so good a tale that he

himself tells it that way on occasion.


All the versions agree that after receiving such a thorough whupping,

the pugil instructors had Vis give them lessons.  They were large,

powerful fellows, in excellent condition, and fiercely determined never

to let this happen again.


There's a story to follow this one that has never been heard: What ever

happened to the next SCA smart-guy at that camp who thought he could

show these instructors a thing or two about pole-weapons?





From: whh at PacBell.COM (Wilson Heydt)

Date: 5 Dec 89 00:39:19 GMT

Organization: Pacific * Bell, San Ramon, CA


While we're trotting out old stories . . .  Here's one I

was told by Master Harold of Breakstone (mka Clint Bigglestone)

some years ago . . .


Clint was learning the Japanese art of the sword from a venerable

old Master.  Indeed, clint's sensei was the one that taught Toshiro

Mifune how to use one properly.  The sensei spoke very little

English and Clint spoke essentially no Japanese.  With translation,

they had a discussion one evening about the relative virtues of the

Western and Eastern ways of the sword.  Clint--having fought in the

Society--offered to demonstrate.  The only thing available to use for

a shield was a garbage-can lid.  At one point the sensei made a very

nice, low, cut. clint blocked the move by pinning the sensei's wrist

to the floor with the rim of his sheild.  The sensei left the room,

making some remark in his native language.  Puzzled, Clint asked

the translator--the sensei's daughter, as I recall--what the old

man had said.  Supressing giggles, she replied: "Master say,

'Western Warrior very sneaky.'"




        Hal Ravn, Province of the Mists, West Kingdom

        Wilson H. Heydt, Jr.,  Albany, CA 94706, 415/524-8321 (home)


Hal Heydt                    |Surely the end of the world is at hand:

Analyst, Pacific*Bell        |   Children no longer obey their parents

415-823-5447                 |   and *everyone* wants to write a book.

whh at pbhya.PacBell.COM        |     --from a Babylonian clay tablet



From: whh at PacBell.COM (Wilson Heydt)

Date: 5 Dec 89 00:48:44 GMT

Organization: Pacific * Bell, San Ramon, CA


While I'm on the subject, he's another from long years ago.  I was

at the "climactic" event--the first Crown list I ever fought in,

but I wasn't involved in the conversations . . .


Years and years ago--in the dawn mists of the Society (my Lady Wife

could probably supply the dates, but all I can say is "pre-'70s),

several Society members lived in a "slan shack" in the Haight-Ashbury

district in San Francisco.  Among them were Clint Bigglestone (Master

Harold of breakstone), Ken deMaif (sp?), and Steve Perrin (Comte Stephen

de Lorraine).  They were fond of practicing Society combat in a nearby

empty lot--to the interest, amusement and such of of their neighbors.


Among the neighbors were active members of the motorcycle club Hell's

Angels (of whom you have probably heard).


June Crown of 1970 was held in San Anselmo.  The site was right on

some local streets, so it was no surprise when the local Police

dropped by to see what was going on.  After the usual explanations

and cries of "if only I weren't on duty . . ." they departed.  While

there however, they mentioned an unusual reason for not being able to

stay and watch.  It seemed the Hell's Angels were due to blow through

town that day and the Police were planning to meet them at the edge of

town and "encourage" them to pick on somebody else.  We later got news

that word of the Society's precense in town had gotten to the Angels,

and they went *around* San Anselmo instead of trying to go through . . .


Now *that's* a reputation.




        Hal Ravn, Province of the Mists, West Kingdom

        Wilson H. Heydt, Jr.,  Albany, CA 94706, 415/524-8321 (home)



From: samlb at pioneer.arc.nasa.gov (Sam Bassett RCD)

Date: 8 Dec 89 21:52:59 GMT

Organization: Old, used, Steward (Thanks, Flieg!)


        I heard a variation of that one from Clint:


        It seems that they were all out in the back yard of the Hashbury

house, happily bashing at each other, when a group of angels roared up on

their hogs on the other side of the fence.  Hearing the sounds of an

evident rumble, they peeked over the fence.

        After somebody explained what was going on, one of the Angels was

heard to say: "Jeez -- those guys must be tough -- I'd never let anyone

do that to me."



Sam'l Bassett, Sterling Software  at  NASA Ames Research Center,

Moffett Field CA 94035 Work: (415) 694-4792;  Home: (415) 969-2644

samlb at well.sf.ca.us                     samlb at ames.arc.nasa.gov

<Disclaimer> := 'Sterling doesn't _have_ opinions -- much less NASA!'



From: think!ames!decwrl!decvax!tinhat!meg at EDDIE.MIT.EDU (Megan ni Laine)

Date: 30 Mar 90 07:40:23 GMT

Organization: Society for Creative Anachronism


Let me tell you a short story. This is a true story.

The day after I was elected Baroness Stonemarche, I had to drive

upstate to Dartmouth hospital for an operation. It was in February,

and it had snowed the night before. There were Department of

Transportation trucks plowing the snow from the highway in front of me.

I thought to myself, what a deserted stretch of highway, and here are

four trucks clearing it. I am the only car on the road...are they

doing it just for me?  This rather pretentious thought made me

remember the fact that I was now Baroness of this place, this entire

mundane state was now the Barony of Stonemarche, I was its titular

head. Suddenly I was swept away on the fantasy that I am the Baroness

Stonemarche, this is MY highway, these White Mountains around me are

MY mountains, those trucks are MY Baronial trucks clearing the road

before me. I was filled with a proprietary feeling toward the land

around me...the mountains of stone, the trees, the rivers and

lakes...it was all mine.  Sounds silly, huh?  Yet, in the subsequent

years, I have honored real people and rewarded them for their real

achievements, I have patched up real arguements and made real peace

between angry households, I have comforted my people when their hearts

were broken and their lives were falling apart, I have encouraged them

when they succeded amd commisserated with them when they failed. I have

found them jobs, helped them find housing, fed them, given them rides,

loamed money when needed...being Baroness is a real thing here. We are

a close-knit community of medievalists, and even when we are not

playing the Game, we are still friends.  Every night, from 8 to about

1am, I am on the phone with the various folk of my barony. Its like

being a college professor, social worker and lawyer all rolled into one.

I've witnessed their weddings,and even assisted at the birth of their



No offense meant to the Crown, but I didn't win this position by

strength of arms. My people elected me, very nearly unanimously.  It

is by their will that I am here, it is to serve them that I remain.


The motto of Household Runnymede (open only to the Baronage of the EAst)is:

Kings come and go, but we are always here.


Sorry for rambling on so...but its a real and personal thing. I do

take the fantasy seriously. Maybe that's why they elected me in the

first place...


M ay the words I use

E ver be plain,

G od forbid I confuse

A ught I wish to explain.

N ow I remain, your servant, Megan.



               Megan ni Laine, OL, Baroness Stonemarche  

                      The Barony of Stonemarche          

                            East Kingdom    

Linda Anfuso                      meg at tinhat.UUCP

Forest Road                       meg%tinhat%hern at grove.crsfld.com      

Wilton, NH 03086, U. S. A.       ...uunet!bytepb!hern!tinhat!meg



From: icarus at UCSCB.UCSC.EDU (60451000)

Date: 16 Apr 90 16:38:18 GMT

Organization: Society for Creative Anachronism


A book called _The Gryphon King_ by (I believe) Tom Weitz

also has explicit references to the SCA- in fact, part of the

story is set at an event.


-Lady Margrethe von Holbeck



From: mittle at blinn.watson.ibm.com (Josh Mittleman)

Date: 16 Apr 90 17:56:34 GMT

Organization: IBM T.J. Watson Research, NY


Dur asks:


(list of SCA authors deleted)


>How many "real, named" personnas of SCAdians have these authors used, and who

>are they?


Well, "Baron Dur" appears in "Murder in the War."  (Gee, what a

coincidence :)  Marion Zimmer Bradley's Darkover books have several

secondary characters who are based on SCA people...I know that Cinhil

MacAran is one such.  I'm not sure about her primary characters.





Subject: Re: Personnas in works by SCA authors....


>>Well, "Baron Dur" appears in "Murder in the War."


> So does Solomon ben Jacob...


>               Tzvi


Include Bertram of Berrington as well...





From: klw at hpindwa.HP.COM (Karen Williams)

Date: 20 Apr 90 17:33:45 GMT

Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Cupertino CA


/ hpindwa:rec.org.sca / amanda at mermaid.intercon.com (Amanda Walker) / 11:10 am

Apr 19, 1990 /

>> >>Well, "Baron Dur" appears in "Murder in the War."

>> > So does Solomon ben Jacob...

>> Include Bertram of Berrington as well...

>And if that's not Laurelen Darksbane, Grod Gondoris (sp?), and Andrew of

>Seldom Rest on the dust jacket, it's a mighty amazing coincidence.


It is. She gave the artist some pictures from Pennsic and he followed

them very closely.


The woman with all the knives is based on Fiona (I think that's her name;

Master Thorbjorn's wife) from the Barony of Jararvellir (Middle).


Branwen ferch Emrys



From: a318 at mindlink.UUCP (Colin Hart)

Date: 7 May 90 00:56:39 GMT

Organization: MIND LINK! - British Columbia, Canada


Greetings to all who may come to read this from Colin Mackay of Balmaghie. All

the talk about safety in camps and the chivalry of our group leads me to

remember this incident; A number of years ago here in Lions Gate I was

autcratting some Highland Games at one of our favourite sites , the night was

growing late everybody who was to camp for the weekend was there, some had


to bed and a very colourfull Irishman had apparantly passed out drunk and had

been put to bed, the fire was dieing down when a gentle came out of his

pavilllion where he had been settling down his three smalls for the night and

asked if any one else heard some screaming.  Indeed we did, I had heard it off

and on for a while but had put it down to a nearby party. 4 of us went out to

the road about 2 minutes felt longer and had a look. Looking out we could see

some teens on the road and they seemed at first to be playing on the road, but

then another car passed them and one of them let out a cry of desperation/

terror, I called out to see if they needed any help. They sure did. They had

come down a long straight road and turned too quickly onto another, hit some

gravel and the car landed upside down in a ditch.  One of the 4 of us turned

out to be a youth crises worker and he was very handy in helping a young


who was going into shock.  The second person roared back to the camp to get

some help while 2 of us stood on the road and flagged down the next car to

summon help.  A cellular phone was also used to summon aid.  THe campsite on

hearing the call for MEDIC LIGHTS BLANKETS etc immeadiately came to life and

was out to the road in seconds flat!!This included the Irishman, suddenly sober

as a judge and dressed only in a little green kilt with a blue ribbon down the

front- he turned out to be a first aid instructor who was used to giving his

students this sort of a drill late at night. This was real and he was on top of

the situation. When the ambulance and the police arrived they could not

believe all (20 -30) these people out to help out, especially the Paramedic who

heard very professional diagnosis from the Kilted wonder and was dumbstruck


a couple of seconds when asked if he was ready to take over. The Police had to

know if this was all a Bunch of Robin Hoods or what!!!


Sorry to use so much bandswidth but the story is indicative of the courtesy

and chivalry which we all take for granted and is so sadly lacking in the

mundane world.


Colin MAckay of Balmaghie.

Barony of Lions Gate Kingdom of An Tir.



From: HZS at psuvm.psu.edu (Therion Calgate, Confederation)

Date: 7 May 90 14:15:07 GMT

Organization: Penn State University


I would tend to agree with the folks who say that the Pennsic War is one of the

safest places for a young lady to be in this day and age. You are surrounded

by thousands of folks who are dedicated to Chivalry. All of them are armed, and

a majority have martial arts training (rattan, fencing, or mundane). Three or

four Pennsics ago, I was sitting at a fire with a group of friends when a young

lady at the neighboring camp decided it would be amusing to begin screaming at the top of her lungs (the only thing her group was doing at the time was

telling jokes and drinking excessively). I was instantly on my feet, over the

two fences between our camps, ready to let whomever was abusing this lady try

to abuse me. I reached the fire, and realized that the lady was in no danger

and was merely being drunk and silly. As I began to give her a *very* stern

lecture, I noticed at least twenty other people standing around the edges of

her camp, some with drawn swords. This was within ten seconds of her scream.

Try getting that kind of response to a call for help in Mundania.





From: griff at anvil.intel.com (Richard Griffith)

Date: 4 May 90 14:47:40 GMT


In article <9005030829.AA02789 at ti.com>, evans at lvipl.csc.ti.com ("Eleanor

J. Evans  at  462-5330") writes:


> Incidentally - and as more than one gentle has already commented - the

> knightly behavior of society members is such to bring massive amounts of

> assistance on short notice in any such situation. Any person ungentlemanly

> enough to persist in unwanted attentions is likely to find himself (or

> herself, though perhaps less likely) being beaten about the head and

> shoulders by many irate gentles.


I have seen instances where, unfortunately, this sort of thing has occured.

The man (I refuse to call him a "gentle"...) in question had sought to

"bestow his favors" upon a lady - within perhaps, 3 seconds, of her first

sound of struggle, a passing lord asked if everything was ok... it wasn't,

of course, and the man was asked to leave the event immediately.  Furthermore,

the lady enjoyed the company of two guards outside her tent for the remainder

of the evening.  What I found most commendable was that this assistance was

totally "unofficial" - that's just the way the majority of the gentles within

the Society behave.  


:Richard E. Griffith, "griff" : iNTEL, Hillsboro Ore.

:griff at anvil.hf.intel.com

:SCA!: Cyrus Hammerhand, Household of the Golden Wolf, Dragons' Mist, An Tir



From: david at twg.com (David Herron)

Date: 8 May 90 21:21:22 GMT

Organization: The Wollongong Group, Palo Alto, CA


In article <6297 at aides.watson.ibm.com> mittle at blinn.UUCP (Josh Mittleman)


>Another author who explicitly refers to the SCA is Christopher

>Stasheff, in Escape Velocity the "prequel" to his Wizard series.  I

>have been told that he was never actually in the SCA, but wrote the

>first and best of those books, The Warlock in Spite of Himself,

>without ever having encountered us, and only later discovered what he

>hath wrought.


Yes, this is exactly the story Stasheff told when I saw him

at an SF Convention once.  He wrote something that made sense,

and years later heard of the SCA.  I'm reasonably sure the first

book was written after '68 sooo..


        David le Casse'



From: ken at hayes.fai.alaska.edu.edu (Ken Burnside)

Date: 7 Jun 90 12:42:39 GMT

Organization: University of Alaska Fairbanks


You are right, of course, in your assertion that the King's Law has some

limits.  However, the Kings that we've had to date have never really stepped

beyond those limits.  They have 25 years of tradition to bind and guide them.


However:  I have an amusing anecdote that shows the power of the Western



Back in the mists of time, there was a King of the West, who to preserve his

dignity, and the dignity of the Crown that he wore, shall remain nameless.

Also at this time, there was a young lad attending his first large event.

That lad was myself.

At said event were participants who were thinking of breaking their shire

off to form it's own microcosm within the Society...where everyone is at least

a Count, and other things.   (Their reasons were politically based...they felt

that at least two of their fighters deserved Knighthood...but had been denied

it by politicking.)

Said King of the West was sitting in the communal pavillion, nursing the

effects of an evening's reveling, and watching the children play, and listening

to the rain drizzle outside.  I was in charge of keeping the children under

control, and generally seeing to His Majesties food and drink.  (It being 6 AM,

we were the only two awake, aside from the children and the cooks.)

His Majesty, who had gotten a greenstick fracture in the melee the day before,

was slowly coming to the conclusion that the day just *might* be worth looking

at as a pleasurable activity when his breakfast was interrupted.

Three of the dissident fighters came into the tent, not bothering to pay

their respects to His Majesty, grabbed food from the trenchers, and began

to shout at the King.  About the "Good Old Days", when Kings had Real Power in

the SCA, before it was all tied up in Parliamentary Bullshit.  About the

days when Real Men were Kings, men who were Leaders, men who were Nobility Enshrined.  


About this time, several small children were wailing, His Majesty was covering

his ears, and putting his forehead into the bowls, and the dissidents were

running out of steam.  I managed to quiet down a number of smalls, and pass

the King another pair of aspirin when the King looked up. He smiled.


He looked at the three dripping fighters, and said "So, I've no power, eh?"

He looked at me, and said "You, boy.  Come here, please."

I walked around the table, and knelt before my sovereign lord and leige.

He looked down upon me, at my mud and baby-spattered tunic, my coarse,

unadorned clothes, my general dishevelment, and examined me closely.

He put his hand under my chin, and looked me in the eye. "What is your

name, lad?" He asked it not unkindly, but I was still frightened.

"I am called Yorik, Your Majesty.  Yorik the Blind."

He looked at me for a long moment, then back at the three dissident fighters.

He tapped me on the right shoulder, then on the left.  He cocked his fist,

and threw a punch at me.  To my own credit, I was far too startled to flinch.

The punch lightly touched my cheek.  "Rise, Sir Yorik.  Go forth and treat

others with the same kindness and gentility with which you have graced me on

this day."  He then helped me to my feet, and gave me the hand-clasp and hug

of an equal.  

Turning to the three dissident fighters, he asked "Now, what were you saying?"


Under West Kingdom Law, I can claim the rights and prerogatives of the

Chivalry.  I shall never do so.  I am called 'the Blind' for a reason...and

those reasons preclude me from fighting in heavy weapons. I also do not feel

that I have earned the rank of the Chivalry...and the knights that I have seen,

and try to emulate, make the prospect of ever earning a Peerage a daunting



There are some who say that the King demeaned the standards of the Chivalry

by drawing me into it.  To those, I say this:  His Majesty showed me a

moment of nobility and gentility that it would do many well to follow.


The true exercise of Royal Prerogative lies in initiative. His Majesty

took the initiative, and turned a bad situation around without devolving

into a shouting match.  


The traditions that bind Royal Will in the West are also the ones that make

it possible.  The ones that define this Dream we all share.  The traditions

of honour, courtesy and chivalry.  And, every now and again, those of

noblesse oblige.


I feel that the honor of having participated in that exchange more than

makes up for the fact that I was granted a title which I have not earned,

and cannot accept.


(Not to mention the fact that the expression on the faces of those three

fighters was PRICELESS....I avoided them and their camp for the rest of the



Yorik the Blind.


(DON'T call me 'Sir'.  Please.)



From: wesommer at athena.mit.edu (Bill Sommerfeld)

Date: 8 Jun 90 04:04:52 GMT

Organization: None.


Recently, I falsely accused Jerry Pournelle of having written _Dream

Park_.  The copy I have in front of me claims to have been written by

Larry Niven and Steven Barnes.  


The SCA is mentioned in the penultimate paragraph of the afterword

(*emphasis mine*):


    The concepts of Gaming used in _Dream Park_ are drawn from many

    sources: computer-gaming, Dungeons and Dragons, *the Society for

    Creative Anachronism*, and the fiendish imaginations of fans

    throughout the Southern California area.



From: pro-angmar!vis at alphalpha.com (Tom Courtney)

Date: 19 Nov 90 05:21:47 GMT


Justin is confused because he thought the humorous story, attributed to

Sir Balin, was about me. I have certainly heard this story told about me,

and is partially based on fact, with a few anachronisms.


In 1975, while at advanced infantry training, I succeeded in defeating 3

drill sergeants in pugil stick combat. This is not such an amazing feat as

it sounds because: 1) pugil stick training was downplayed in the army at

that time; 2) I was able to shrug off what I would have counted in the

list; 3) I was 20 and at the peak of my physical abilities; drill sergeants

are closer to 30; and work much harder at training soldiers than the

soldiers being trained. The instructers were about to come back for round 2

when the company commander, up in a safety range tower, asked over a

megaphone if I was in the SCA. When told that I was, he told them to give

up-- he needed them tomorrow. The bit about "He says he's a knight" started

appearing in this story in about 1978 (even though I think I was still a

master of arms at that time.) I was not a member of the chivalry while in



However, I don't think the story really started with me, since I heard a

very similar story when I first joined the SCA, about "some westerner". If

Sir Balin said it happened to him, that too is very believable, since any

red-blooded fighter in such a situation would jump at the chance of

defeating his drill sergeant, particularly if he got to tag 3 or 4 of them.

Of course, if the drill sergeant defeats the fighter, nobody hears that



Tom Courtney

aka Vissevald Selkirksson



TO: Kihe Blackeagle

FROM: Aengus macColl

SUBJECT: "See your six..."


The tale you alluded to in your message (which I cannot quote, due to a

lack of said feature on this particular gollum) regarding "See your six

and raise you thirty" may have been told in your area as a rapier story,

but Ioseph and Taras and a few of us other seriously older types know it

to be a tale of (insert hats here) Mistress Sir Trude Lacklandia (insert

alphabet soup here).

It took place in the very early days of the Society, AS III or IV, in

Berkley, CA.  (insert hats) Trude (insert alphabet), then just Lady

Trude, one of the SCA's first female fighters, and a d**n good one at

that (hence the "Sir"), was coming home from an evening fighter practice

via the bus.  Upon disembarking she was accosted by several individuals

of low morals seeking easy gain, who demanded the contents of her purse

and bag while brandishing a switchblade.  She told them, "Certainly!",

opened her bag (containing her armour) and withdrew a broadsword.  Then

she coined those immortal words.

The clanging sound heard 'round the Bay was not the noise of

pocketknives being dropped, it was the perps a**holes slamming shut...




From: dolata at lead.uazaic.arizona.edu (Dolata)

Date: 17 May 91 21:50:31 GMT

Organization: University of Arizona AI Chemistry Lab, Tucson, AZ

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca


Dearest Gentles...


        I pray your indulgence,  for the following story is not

strictly related to the SCA,  but does pertain to activities surrounding

historical research pursuent to SCA interests.  And, mayhaps you will

find it amusing...   I have several other such stories, and if my

dear readers do find some amusement in this story,  then I would be

pleased to present them.


        Yours in Service,

        Thomas Ignatius Perigrinus

        Minister of Arts and Sciences

        College of St Felix (choose your favorite,  there are 17 St. Felixs)


The Lump


        While I was working in Sweden,  I had many chances to visit London.

Through a strange set of circumstances, while performing historical research

I was able to be of service to the Abbot of Westminster Abbey.  

As a reward,  I was presented with a weather worn carved capital from the

Chapel of Henry VI'th which was being replaced with a new one.  (The service

had pertained to this restoration work)  Although weatherworn and a bit

crumbly,  it is delicately carved, and so I worked hard to protect it.  

Since it weighs 50+ pounds, this was not easy.  


        Fortunately,  I had traveled from Sweden to England with my good

Lady, her Mother, and her sister...   Even though the latter two of our party

were planning to travel onwards, rather than return to Sweden, it had been

cheapest to buy everyone round trip tickets...   So the fact that I had a 50+

pound chunk of Westminster Abbey didn't seem like it would present a problem...

I had a pair of spare return trip tickets.  It could fly as a passanger!!!!


        Check in was fun...    "I'd like to check in three to Sweden..."

presenting the tickets...   "Yes sir...   would you put your carry on

bag on the scale???"   "No,  that's one of the passangers".   "Yes, sir,

would you put _their_ bag on the scale."   "No, I didn't make myself clear.

That is not a bag belonging to a passanger... that bag is the passanger."

"Excuse me sir...   did you say the BAG is the PASSANGER?"   "Yes,  and

it would like a window seat."    At this point they decided I was definately

daft,  and I spent th next ten minutes talking to various managers...

Finally that was cleared up, and the bag got it's window seat.


        Arriving at the security gate,  I placed my bag firmly (ka-thunk)

on the x-ray machine...  and of course no x-rays penetrated the rock...

So they asked me;  "What do you have in there, a rock?" "Why yes, I do".

"Well sir, could you be so kind as to open it?" "But of course..."

Well, they were very amused, but seeing as how I had the foresight

to obtain a legal possesion and export document, they finally let it through.


        I thought I had it made,  but the people at the boarding gate

noticed that I was lugging this bag as if it contained somewhat over the

14 pounds weight allowance for carry on luggage.  Also, I was treating

it gingerly since it is a irreplaceable thing,  and I didn't want to

damage it...  "Excuse me sir, but if that bag weighs more than 14

pounds you will have to check it..."   "No, thats okay,  it isn't a bag,

it's a passanger with it's own ticket... right here." With that,

I showed the ticket. "Yes sir, where is the person who's ticket this

is?" "No, let me make it clear, this bag is the passanger, it is going

to sit in a seat, next to the window." "Yes, sir, could you kindly

step into the security office with us?..."     Sigh...


        Finally we board the airplane...  I thought we had it made...

But alas,  fate had a bit more planned for me.  Shortly after the plane

buttoned up,  the stewardess came around and asked me if I could move

the bag off of the seat (It was firmly seat belted in place), because

a passanger wanted to move to the window (I should have realized that

might cause problems). "No,  I am afraid I won't move the bag,  and

besides,  I have paid for that seat...."   "Well yes sir,  if that is

your reserved seat,  than could you sit in it and give the other gentleman

the seat you are sitting in?"  "I'm afraid I have not made it clear...

I have paid for a ticket for the bag...  it is a passanger.  That is it's

reserved seat....  I have a ticket, I am a passanger, and this is my

reserved seat.  We are both passangers, with tickets, and reserved

seats...  (and trying to suprress a grin)  And we would both like the

chicken entree."  ....  eventually I was able to convince the co-pilot that

the bag was a bona-fide passanger with a ticket,  that it didn't constitute

a threat to the welfare of the airplane,  and that it did have a right to

both the window seat and the chicken entree...



From: justin at inmet.inmet.COM (Justin du Coeur MKA Mark Waks)

Date: 23 May 91 13:41:51 GMT

Organization: The Internet


Darcy Graham writes:


>The herald started to announce them, then paused and turned

>to the leader, "I'm sorry m'lord, but I don't know the name of your

>group."  The response was, "Neither do we," in a fine Tennessee

>accent.  So the presentation from the incipient Shire of Nyther Dwee

>was duly announced.


Which puts me in mind of not one, but two stories (flying off on a tangent,

as I am wont to do):


The first concerns a local fellow (who I haven't seen in a couple of years).

When he came to one of his first events, he was asked at the gate what his

name was. He just shrugged, and said, "Call me what you will...". And he

was forever after known as Watchoo Will...


The second occurred to a friend of mine, who is a chirurgeon and has one

of the most devastatingly thick Baahston accents I've ever come across. It

happened in the middle of a woods battle (possibly Pennsic, but I'm not

sure). He came tearing out of the forest, at a run, to the gathered

chirurgeons, yelling, "I found Bob Dwyer in the woods!".


"Okay," said they, "is he hurt?".


"No, no! I found *Bob Dwyer* in the woods!"


"Ah -- this Dwyer person has some sort of medical condition?"


"NO! I found *BOB* *DWYER* in the woods! *BOB* *DWYER*!"


After a few minutes of this, he finally managed to overcome his accent

enough to force the 'r' into the middle of the phrase "barbed wire"...


                                -- Justin du Coeur

                                   Teller of Tales and

                                   Victim of the Folk Process



From: djheydt at garnet.berkeley.edu

Date: 27 May 91 21:29:20 GMT

Organization: University of California, Berkeley


In article <1991May26.160906.4105 at panix.uucp> wlinden at panix.uucp (Alfgar the Sententious) writes:


> Dear Old Used Peers: Since this group has been getting the details of how

>so many things really happened in the high and far-off times, I thought of

>this one. For many moons, some have been giving newcomers a cautionary tale

>on the follies of insisting on a "real" persona, by relating that at an

>early tournament someone showed up claiming to be "Aragorn Son of

>Arathorn", and was repeatedly challenged by everyone in reach for the

>"honor" of facing such a renowned warrior. Others deny emphatically that

>this ever happened.


It did happen; I was there.  The scene was Tilden Park and the date

was March 1967, AS I.  (This was the same tourney to which Henrik of

Havn brought his new hauberk and spangenhelm that he'd been working

on all winter, and borrowing a horse rode straight onto the cover of

TI #1.)


There were so few of us there that we didn't even try doing a Grand

March, but we were all standing in a semicircle around the throne

and told our names.  And when it came to this one guy, a weedy

youngster of maybe twenty whom I for one hadn't seen before,

he named his name as "Aragorn son of Arathorn." Gasps from the

bystanders.  Several gloves thrown at his feet--not "for the honor

of facing such a renowned warrior," but for the chance to teach

this impostor the error of his ways.  I don't know if anybody actually

fought him.  I don't know if anybody gently took him off in a corner

and explained what it was he'd done wrong.  We should've, of course.

(He never showed up again.)  But we were just getting started; we

were ALL newbies then, and we were also very young.  Age and

experience have taught us patience and tolerance, or if they haven't

they should have.


Dorothea of Caer-Myrddin                Dorothy J. Heydt

Province of the Mists                   djheydt at garnet.berkeley.edu

Principality of the Mists               University of California,

Kingdom of the West                     Berkeley



From: dolata at lead.uazaic.arizona.edu (Dolata)

Date: 8 Aug 91 19:03:49 GMT

Organization: University of Arizona AI Chemistry Lab, Tucson, AZ


Dearest Gentles,


        I cannot speak unto the question of "Born into the Society", but I

can relate a tale of the other end of life...  This tale was told to me

by a doughty Scotsman by the name of Arbolest Stuart of Clan Collin,

Captain of Artillary and BodyGuard to the Collin,  who bears a surprising

resemblance to myself.


        About one decade and one hand of years ago (things may well have

changed) Clan Collin of Novato CA was a group which existed outside of, but

partook heavily in the SCA, Scottish Highland Games, and California

Rennaisance Pleasure Faire. One of the younger lads (as many years old then

as time has gone by since) was struck down with a fell disease (leukemia?).  


        His wish was that since the highest points of his life had been with

Clan Collin at the Northern Faire, that he be cremated and buried on site,

in the Clan encampment.   And thus it was done.  The Clan gathered on

a hillside, and stood in respectful silence while an honor guard piped

him to his final resting spot.   His ashes were solemnly interred beneath

a Calfornia Scrub Oak tree, on a bit of hillside overlooking the Camp

and the Washing Well. And as long as Clan remained at the Faire, the

site was ringed with rocks and always had a sprig of green or a flower

to mark his place.


        I believe I have heard that California Renn Faire has sold that site.

I do not know if the lad's family has left his ashes there.  I hope so, for

even though the faire be gone,  the ghosts of many a fine day and

evening shall haunt that glade for many a year, and would keep his shade

fine company.


Yours in Service


Thomas Ignatius Perigrinus

Minister of Arts, Sciences, and Tales of Long Ago

College of St. Felix



From: tperreau at zia.aoc.nrao.EDU (Adept Array Op)

Date: 2 Nov 91 19:42:50 GMT

Organization: The Internet


Greetings fellow Rialtians from newly made Lord Torcail Gilleghaolian!


At our past St. Golias Feast Day on October 26th (yes, Arastorm, it's

finally over and I'm still as sane as ever - which ain't saying much! :-)

it was announced that the Kingdom of the Outlands now has a fleet!


What happened is that a brother of one of our members signed on with the

US Merchant Marine.  He, too, was in the SCA and explained to the captain

of his ship about the SCA, and how sometimes kingdoms "adopt" ships.  

Apparently the captain thought that this was a grand idea and kicked it

upstairs.  Next thing we know is that we get a letter from the commander

(admiral?) of the US Merchant Marine,letting us know that all 2,193 ships

of the Merchant Marine have been adopted by the College of St. Golias!

Needless to say, there was much rejoicing.


Not too bad for a land-locked kingdom!



        Torcail Ghilleghaolain                  Tony Perreault

        College of St. Golias                   NRAO - VLA

        Kingdom of the Outlands                 Socorro, NM  87801

                           tperreau at zia.aoc.nrao.edu




Re: Security Clearence Vs SCA Membership

20 Feb 92

From: Brian Stanley <STANLEY at NDSUVM1.BITNET>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Organization: North Dakota Higher Education Computer Network


Unto the Rialto and in particular unto those persons concerned about SCA

interfering with mundane security clearances, Aleyn fitz Geoffrey sends



Good gentles, as I mundanely hold a Top Secret clearance with a Special

Background Investigation and am authorized to juggle (or rather work with)

nuclear weapons, I can state that SCA membership alone is not considered

dangerous by the U S Government.


In service,





Re: The SCA and security clearances

21 Feb 92

From: james at wrs.com (James Moore)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Organization: Wind River Systems, Inc.


In 1988, I requested all information on the SCA held by the FBI under the

Freedom of Information Act.  I got back a couple pages, one of which

was a memo from the FBI to another agency (name blacked out) stating that

the only information the FBI had was that the SCA was a nonprofit

educational association.  The other pages were memos of one or two

sentances that basically said the same thing.



James Moore                                 | james at wrs.com

Wind River Systems Engineering              |



Re: Security Clearence Vs SCA Membership

21 Feb 92

From: brichard at cbmvax.commodore.com (B. Richard)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Organization: Commodore, West Chester, PA

Reply-To: brichard at cbmvax.commodore.com (B. Richard)


In article <DOCONNOR.92Feb20194422 at oxygen.inews.intel.com> doconnor at oxygen.inews.intel.com (Dennis O'Connor) writes:



>I held a clearance too, and during the application process mentioned my

>SCA involvement, and was told the following by the security administrators

>at our site :


>It seems long ago someone mis-heard that the SCA was the "Society for

>Creative Anarchism", and denied someone else a clearance, and that denied

>questioned why, and the denier checked things out, and the clearance

>was issued after all, as well as a notice to the security agencies

>about what the SCA was ... I got my clearance, of course.


>Dennis O'Connor                   doconnor at sedona.intel.com

>Not an official representative of Intel.


  I've actually had that anarchy problem myself!  Before my application

was forwarded to the DIS people, my division manager sat on it for a while

trying to figure out what to do about this "Society for Creative Anarchism"

problem.  This application also had my SCA name on the "aliases" line.  

After a long talk with my manager that eventually ended up in pointing at

a couple of lines in a dictionary for him, he got straightened out on it

and away it went!  My clearance came back faster than anyone else in

my department ever had!  It was a fairly arcane one, too.


  Actually, these days, it should be easier!  When I was going through this,

there were only a couple of Ren-Fests in the country.  Now all ya gotta do

is say "It's kinda like a Ren-Fest" and just about ALL the mundanes know

what you're talking about and it goes on pretty easy from there.






  Now from the Shire of Hartshorn Dale, Eastrealm, (West Side Philly)

  But ever in my heart, a Midrealm Cleftlander     (Cleveland)



Security Clearence Vs SCA Membership

24 Feb 92

From: habura at vccsouth17.its.rpi.edu (Andrea Marie Habura)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Organization: Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy NY


One piece of evidence on the SCA-membership-isn't-a-problem side: one of the

Shires in the East is called Freelords of the Stone Keep...it's based at the

US Army Military Academy at West Point.(You can always tell the Freelord

people: they're the guys at an event with Very Short Hair.) I rather think that

if the SCA were considered subversive, the Shire there wouldn't be permitted.


Alison MacDermot



Loaf of Trouble

24 Feb 92

From: habura at vccsouth17.its.rpi.edu (Andrea Marie Habura)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Organization: Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy NY


Oh, I know the guy with that shield. It's a 20th century joke. Y'see, Claymore

mines are marked "This Side Toward Enemy" on one end, and also "Do Not EET"

(EET stands for Expose to Extreme Temperatures). My husband thought this was

pretty funny, and mentioned it to John, the guy with the shield. Next event

we saw him at, he had labeled the outside of his shield "This Side Toward

Enemy" and the inside "Do Not Eat".


Alison MacDermot

(who is feeling just a weensy bit guilty about that...)



Archeology at Pennsic. (Are we recreating material calture?)

25 Feb 92

From: cav at bnr.ca (Rick Cavasin)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Organization: Bell-Northern Research Ltd.

Reply-To: cav at bnr.ca (Rick Cavasin)


There is a tale, told here in the north, of a fabulous treasure buried

deep in the old archery field.  

My memory of the tale is somewhat foggy, but some time ago (perhaps some

time around Pennsic 14?),

members of the dreaded clan Rhys Mordwyn (god bless dad's nuts!)

buried a case of homebrewed old-peculiar which

they were unable (or unwilling?)

to cart home at the end of the war.  The directions to the precise

location of the treasure were subsequently lost.


Now that would be an interesting find.





Archeology at Pennsic. (Are we recreating material calture?)

25 Feb 92

From: jschmidt at gambrinus.tymnet.com (John Schmidt)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Organization: BT North America

Reply-To: jschmidt at gambrinus.UUCP (John Schmidt)


In the mode of fabulous finds, there still may be an old pothelm that

Master Sir Stephen of Norham buried in the woods at Pennsic 16.  It was

unsold at Pennsic 11, and for 6 years was dug up, admired for rust and

weathering (whatever effect that is underground) and reburied at the

end of Pennsic.  We tried to find it at Pennsic 17, but failed; perhaps

someone with a metal detector beat us to it.  The helm was on the

small size for modern heads, and had live steel weapons marks on it

after Pennsic 12.



From: Joe.Bethancourt at f148.n114.z1.tvbbs.UUCP (Joe Bethancourt)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: *whew!*

Date: Mon, 05 Apr 1993 10:14:02 -0700



                I'LL SEE YOUR SIX!

                        -Ioseph of Locksley

        (c) copyright 1993 W.J. Bethancourt III

           (Tune: "The Sleeping Scotsman")


A lovely lady went one night to a revel in the East

With dancing and with singing, with wine and Roasted Beast

When the revel came unto an end, she started out for home

Wrapped well in her woolen cloak, and walking all alone.


CHORUS: The things you will run into, the people that you meet

         Walking all alone upon a New York City street!


Now, New York City's not a place for walking in the dark

Not in the streets and alleys and especially not the Park

But off she went most happily, without a single care

Wrapped up in her woolen cloak, all in the midnight air.


A street-tough jumped in front of her, with three friends in the night

And pulled a six-inch switchblade, that glittered in the light

He waved it underneath her nose, and said with fiendish glee:

"Give me all your money, girl, this is a robbery!"


She gazed upon the switchblade, and smiled a happy smile

Said "Boy, you ain't got any brains, and lack a sense of style!

You're standing where I want to walk, please move out of my way!"

The tough said "Girl, I'll cut you, and rob you anyway!"


All wrapped up in her woolen cloak, her garb was quite unseen

Her hands were hidden out of sight, and so was chain-mail's gleam...

She said "Now, go rob someone else, my money stays with me!"

He said, "I'll take your money with my six-inch snickersnee!"


The lady's smile got bigger, the robber took a swing

The chain-mail took the blow; the lady didn't feel a thing!

She pulled a Kirby broadsword, the robber's soul to shrive,

And grinned and said, "I'll see your six, and raise you thirty-five!"


The bandit gazed upon the sword, and then upon his knife

He turned and ran, with his three friends, a-running for his life!

Don't think a lady's easy, don't think she's helpless prey,

Especially if she is a fighter in the SCA!


Now if you don't believe my song, then ask the lady fair

With Cheshire Cat upon her shield, a blazon very rare:

Sir Trude is her name, me lads, if she should pass your way;

The very first of the Lady Knights within the SCA!




                                        -Ioseph of Locksley

                                         grumpy baron



From: cozzlab at garnet.berkeley.edu ()

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: *whew!*

Date: 7 Apr 1993 16:18:34 GMT

Organization: University of California, Berkeley


In article <734055438.AA00157 at tvbbs.UUCP> Joe.Bethancourt at f148.n114.z1.tvbbs.UUCP (Joe Bethancourt) writes:


[neat filksong]


Nice.  My daughter will love it.  Of course, I don't think it ever

_happened_ to Sir Trude--though it could've, given the opportunity--

and it did happen to Jerry Pournelle before the SCA was ever born

or thought of--but it doesn't matter.  As the old friar said of the

Gospels, "Si non e vero, e ben trovato"--if it isn't true, it's still

a good story.


Dorothea of Caer-Myrddin          Dorothy J. Heydt

Mists/Mists/West                   UC Berkeley

Argent, a cross forme'e sable           cozzlab at garnet.berkeley.edu



From: Joe.Bethancourt at f148.n114.z1.tvbbs.UUCP (Joe Bethancourt)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: *whew!*

Date: Fri, 09 Apr 1993 20:39:02 -0700


Cozzlab at garnet.berkeley.e said to All :


Co> From: cozzlab at garnet.berkeley.edu ()

Co> Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Co> Organization: University of California, Berkeley


Co> In article <734055438.AA00157 at tvbbs.UUCP>

Co> Joe.Bethancourt at f148.n114.z1.tvbbs.UUCP (Joe Bethancourt)

Co> writes:


Co> [neat filksong]


Co> Nice.  My daughter will love it.  Of course, I don't think it ever

Co> _happened_ to Sir Trude--though it could've, given the opportunity--

Co> and it did happen to Jerry Pournelle before the SCA was ever born

Co> or thought of--but it doesn't matter.  As the old friar said of the

Co> Gospels, "Si non e vero, e ben trovato"--if it isn't true, it's still

Co> a good story.


Heh! Well, since I heard the story from Trude in the first place.......I'll

have to get her to write it down. I took a little from my Poetic License &

gave her mail and a Kirby broadsword (accept no substitutes!) in the song,

but otherwise, that's what she told me.


                                                -Ioseph of Locksley

                                                 still grumpy



From: cozzlab at garnet.berkeley.edu ()

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: I'll See Your Six....

Date: 7 Apr 1993 19:14:58 GMT

Organization: University of California, Berkeley


Looking over this nice song again, I observe that in addition to the

tune that was listed, you can sing it to "The Bastard King of England."


A tune I like better... and know better... and first learned when Oscar

Brand sang to it a song about the DC-3....



Dorothea of Caer-Myrddin          Dorothy J. Heydt

Mists/Mists/West                   UC Berkeley

Argent, a cross forme'e sable           cozzlab at garnet.berkeley.edu



From: atterlep at vela.acs.oakland.edu (Cardinal Ximenez)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: claims to the belt&chain

Date: 11 May 1993 16:32:51 -0400

Organization: National Association for the Disorganized


  This reminds me of the infamous Sir Flamingo...


  During the Pennsic War, in the year XXIII, a the squires of a certain knight

undertook to provoke a certain lady by planting a plastic lawn flamingo outside

her tent every morning.  She promptly began hauling the bird to the garbage,

from which the squires would retrieve it and put it back up the next day.

  One evening, after this had been going on a while, the squires went to the

Midrealm Royal Encampment and found a certain prince, telling him "we know of

a warrior who has fought most chivalrously, with great vigor and fortitude.

We beg you, your highness, to bestow upon him the honor of knighthood."  He

replied, "who is the one of which you speak?" They quickly produced the

flamingo.  The prince said, "what the hell?" and knighted the warrior on the


  Little did he know that this would come back to haunt him.  The story of Sir

Flamingo began to spread far and wide.  The Kingdom Twelfth Night had a "best

flamingo in any medium" contest.  The lady in question attempted to use the

flamingo as a target in an archery contest, only to be challenged and defeated

by archers who shot at an alligator.  Some of the populace wore flamingo noses

to meetings.  The prince (by then count) recieved a postcard signed "Flamingo,

KSCA" from Brazil.  The lady was registered a badge bearing a flamingo without

her knowledge.  To this day, she recieves flamingo gifts at Twelfth Night

(almost always anonymously.)

  Needless to say, this has discouraged the knighting of inanimate objects in

the Midrealm.


               Alan Fairfax Aluricson, Fenris Herald

               Canton of the Riding of Hawkland Moor

               Barony of Northwoods, Midrealm

               atterlep at vela.acs.oakland.edu               **Magnitudo Vocis**



From: mike at micros.COM (Michael J. Lonski)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Modern-day Armorsmith

Date: 8 Jul 1993 10:18:57 -0400

Organization: The Internet


Bill Laut writes:


>        From time to time, I have heard of people who have taken up the art

>of armorsmithing, and became so good at it that their suits were

>indistinguishable from armor made 500 years ago.


There is an incredibly good smith in the northern Atlantia area by the

name of Brock (aka The Magic Badger) who does a lot of work with iron.  A

story I once heard from his lady was of a time that Brock was visiting a

museum in the region and examing the display of very early medieval implements.

One of the pieces looked quite familiar and upon closer examination, Brock

discovered HIS OWN MARK upon the item.  It took much convincing and a trip or

two out to his car to show the curator similar items before the musuem would

admit to an error.  The result of the whole incident was the item being labeled

as a "recreation of an original artifact".


I know this story verges on anecdotal, but given the source and knowing his

work, I find it highly believable.  No matter what, the thought is amusing :)


Edan Aylwin

jongleur ordinaire

Storvik, Atlantia



Michael Lonski (address mail to: mikel at micros.com) 301-210-8134

Micros Systems, Inc., R&D, 12000 Baltimore Avenue, Beltsville, MD 20705  



Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

From: ddfr at quads.uchicago.edu (david director friedman)

Subject: Re: Modern-day Armorsmith

Organization: University of Chicago

Date: Fri, 9 Jul 1993 00:07:25 GMT


"From time to time, I have heard of people who have taken up the art

of armorsmithing, and became so good at it that their suits were

indistinguishable from armor made 500 years ago." (Bill Laut)


Edaw Aylwin posts in response:


"There is an incredibly good smith in the northern Atlantia area by


name of Brock (aka The Magic Badger) who does a lot of work with


(followed by an anecdote about Brock)


Brock makes lovely things  (how do you put a beasthead on the end of

a piece of metal? You just pick up a hammer and chisel and hit the

metal a few times) but so far as I know he does not make armor. The

best armorer I know is Master Roberto in Myrkfaelinn; someone else

already posted his address.




From: cozzlab at garnet.berkeley.edu ()

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Homogenous SCA?

Date: 5 Aug 1993 23:45:49 GMT

Organization: University of California, Berkeley


In article <1993Aug5.191849.1331 at epas.toronto.edu>,

Cheryl Tallan <ctallan at epas.utoronto.ca> wrote:

>Much more serious than this are the tales I have heard of the Three

>Headed Peers of Caid, where each head has a different Peerage


Hmmm.  I know many Westies who have three Peerages, and even three or

more hats, but none has more than one head, so far as I know.  I

wonder where the Caidans got the extra heads?  On the field of battle

perhaps, or maybe just from the local Special Effects Department?


or the

>tales of the Kingdom of the West, where Awards of Arms are given out

>as birth certificates....:-)


Listen, it nearly happened once: Andrew of Riga, when King in 1974CE,

threatened/promised to give my unborn child an Award of Arms in utero.

But we talked him out of it, and the child (Tristan Halsson von Ravnsborg)

got his Award of Arms honestly about fifteen years later.



Dorothea of Caer-Myrddin          Dorothy J. Heydt

Mists/Mists/West                   UC Berkeley

Argent, a cross forme'e sable           cozzlab at garnet.berkeley.edu



From: Stephen.Whitis at f4229.n124.z1.fidonet.org (Stephen Whitis)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: period wedding

Date: Sat, 21 Aug 1993 17:55:16


>> There was a white spot in the

>> dark red blob. For weeks on end. Imagine explaining that to            

>> your boss.                                                             


>Armor bites, sword bruises, chainmail sunburns, ad nauseum.  If I walk    

>into work on Monday with an unusual mark on my body, the usual reaction  

>is; "How was the medieval event?"                                       


A friend of mine, took a *hard* wrap shot from Duke Inman at fighter

practice.  He's a fire-fighter, and the next day, though he had

forgotten about it, they had physical's scheduled. Naturally, when

he realized this, he wasn't thrilled with the two-inch wide bruise

going across both butt-cheeks.  :^)


So the doc says "Drop your pants and bend over the table."  He

does, and says "Really Doc, it's *not* what you think!"


As you can imagine, we still get a kick out of teasing him about

that.  :^)


Stephen of the Grove

Steppes, Ansteorra    FIDONET 1:124/4229

ocitor!Stephen.Whitis at rwsys.lonestar.org



Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: handicapped

From: schuldy at zariski.harvard.edu (Mark Schuldenfrei)

Date: 30 Aug 93 15:24:42 EDT

Organization: My own little corner.


Cieran (was it?):

  4) The person with Heart disease who did not use a parking card, well fine!

  but it's the Doctor's opinion that gets the card.  If your doctor said,

  "don't ever strain yourself" or somesuch and reccomended the card you'd get

  one easily, [...]


I'd be willing to bet good money that my Doctor would get me one on

request, despite the recovery I am making.  But that is beside the point.


Dennis O'Connor wrote:

  If you've been told "don't ever strain yourself", don't go to an SCA war.


I've been told that all the time, Dennis.  Usually by friends, but

occasionally by my doctor.  Had a great time at Pennsic anyway

(including water-bearing in the Woods: carried three gallons of water

there by foot, ran around for two hours, and walked home.)


Out of curiousity, how many folks have had to explain the SCA to their

physicians?  I remember my followup visit after retinal surgery.  I

asked the Doctor "What restrictions are there on me now?"  His flip

response, in an attempt to say "none", was "Don't take up a sport that

involves repeated blows to the head, like kick boxing or regular boxing."

He turned ashen as I asked: "What about a sport where you put on an

18 gauge helmet of steel, with foam padding, and are struck repeatedly

with a length of rattan?"


He looked puzzled and said:

  "That's exactly what I mean.  People do that?"




Mark Schuldenfrei (schuldy at math.harvard.edu)



Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

From: tbarnes at silver.ucs.indiana.edu (thomas wrentmore barnes)

Subject: Re: Blimps

Organization: Indiana University

Date: Sat, 28 Aug 1993 17:39:45 GMT


In article <CCFxAo.1II at news2.cis.umn.edu> caa at c2s.mn.org (Charles Anderson) writes:

>In article <930827200608_71431.167_FHA50-1 at CompuServe.COM> 71431.167 at compuserve.COM (Reed Harrig) writes:

>|In the mean time would you guys work on getting rid of all the fantansy

>|eyesores. :-)


>Yeah especially the guy with the bat wing helmet, and the bad tatoos/body art

>all over.  (hard to miss I saw him several times thin with bad posture, and

>a pot belly.)



        Lothar confesses,


        Forgive me authenticity mavens for I have sinned. I have

commited the sin of bad heraldry compounded by a twit of a client.

        Four years ago, I was working at the herald's tent, as is my

wont at Pennsic when this guy came in. Face like mush, bad posture,

stupid rawhide, pseudo-Amerind/fantasy barbarian outfit, topped off by a

perfectly good spangenhelm ruined by having a couple of huge bat wings

rivetted to it that look like they'd been cut out of sheet copper with

tin-snips. Really ugly.

        Being a good little bureaucrat, I dutifully coaxed him into

taking a name that sounded plausibly medieval and helped him register

his arms. As you might suspect, this idiot's taste in heraldry was no

better than his fashion sense. He wanted this gawdoffal bat-winged demon

thingymabob on his arms. Of course it didn't conflict with anything -

nobody else would want it - and it WAS plausibily medievalish armory

since heralds did use invented monsters in armory. SIGH.

        45 minutes later I was free of the fool, having decided that his

personality was as lame as his artistic sense. I breathed a sigh of

relief and uttered a prayer that the next client would have a bit more

of a clue.


        Three years pass....and then as I was carrying ice down from the

store I see this moron in the same get up I saw him in 3 years ago (I

hope he washed it in the meantime) WITH THE ARMS I DESIGNED FOR HIM

TATOOED ON HIS CHEST!!!! ARRRGH!!! What have I done!!!


        Lothar von Frankenstien \|/



Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

From: mjc+ at cs.cmu.edu (Monica Cellio)

Subject: Re: handicapped

Organization: School of Computer Science, Carnegie Mellon

Date: Tue, 31 Aug 1993 16:06:38 GMT


>Out of curiousity, how many folks have had to explain the SCA to their



Many years ago, when I was still a new fighter, I took a hand shot that

broke my thumb.  The folks at the ER asked me if I'd hit my thumb with a

hammer.  Foolish me -- I said no, it was a wooden sword. I learned my lesson

after having to explain it to a good dozen people there: the proper response

is simply "martial arts injury". :-)


My doctor thinks I'm a big camping/hiking/etc fan; it's easier to let him

believe that than to explain to him why I'll put up with having to camp for

Pennsic.  (Of course, what many of us do when we set up household at Pennsic

could not be called "camping" by many definitions.)





From: salley at niktow.canisius.edu (David Salley)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Telling your doctor about the SCA (was Re: handicapped)

Date: 4 Sep 93 00:50:24 GMT

Organization: Canisius College, Buffalo NY. 14208


Tibor writes:

> Out of curiousity, how many folks have had to explain the SCA to their

> physicians?  I remember my followup visit after retinal surgery.  I

> asked the Doctor "What restrictions are there on me now?"  His flip

> response, in an attempt to say "none", was "Don't take up a sport that

> involves repeated blows to the head, like kick boxing or regular boxing."

> He turned ashen as I asked: "What about a sport where you put on an

> 18 gauge helmet of steel, with foam padding, and are struck repeatedly

> with a length of rattan?"


I go to my doctor's office once a year for my annual physical and to renew the

prescription for my allergy medication.  That's it.  For a long time after

joining the SCA I didn't fight because I couldn't attend fight practice because

I worked during that time.  Then I got squired ... fighter practice once a week,

a pell hanging in my attic, daily exercise plus walking, later running, etc.


Then I went to the doctor's.  I got my physical, the doc wrote down all the

stats, compared them to last year's, looked at me, looked at the clipboard,

looked at me.  


"Are you taking up martial arts or something?"

        "err... ah...  Well, ... I suppose you could call it that, I guess."  

"You don't want to tell me?"

        "I'm not sure you'd believe me!"

"Okay, fine.  Don't tell me, then.  But whatever you're doing, you now have

your doctor's permission to continue doing it.  You've dropped twenty pounds,

your heartbeat is slower, your breathing is better, and you're in a hell of

a lot better shape than you were last year.  Whatever it is you're doing,

keep it up!"


                                                       - Dagonell


SCA Persona : Lord Dagonell Collingwood of Emerald Lake, CSC, CK, CTr

Habitat           : East Kingdom, AEthelmearc Principality, Rhydderich Hael Barony

Internet    : salley at niktow.cs.canisius.edu

USnail-net  : David P. Salley, 136 Shepard Street, Buffalo, New York 14212-2029



From: grot at acs2.bu.edu (Henry Nadig)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Telling your doctor about the SCA (was Re: handicapped)

Date: 4 Sep 1993 02:34:28 GMT

Organization: Boston University, Boston, MA, USA


Doctor Stuff Deleted


>"Are you taking up martial arts or something?"

>      "err... ah... Well, ... I suppose you could call it that, I guess."  

>"You don't want to tell me?"

>      "I'm not sure you'd believe me!"

>"Okay, fine.  Don't tell me, then.  But whatever you're doing, you now have

> your doctor's permission to continue doing it. You've dropped twenty pounds,

> your heartbeat is slower, your breathing is better, and you're in a hell of

> a lot better shape than you were last year.  Whatever it is you're doing,

> keep it up!"


>                                                       - Dagonell


I have had a recent and almost identical experience.  I went to my doctor

for chronic shoulder sublaxations (Can't throw wraps right in melees).

He poked and proded and said "jeesh, seems pretty stable, what pops it


After an HOUR long discussion of medieval research, he was asking where

practices were...  Needless to say, he thinks it is way cool.  He also

said I was in better shape because of it....


David of Gower



From: gray at ibis.cs.umass.edu (Lyle FitzWilliam)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Telling your doctor about the SCA (was Re: handicapped)

Date: 8 Sep 1993 19:20:22 GMT

Organization: Bergental, East Kingdom


In article <1993Sep7.134218.16621 at ccd.harris.com> steve at rtfm.mlb.fl.us writes:

>      My chiropractor told me to take up fighting again at my last visit

>      because I spend too much time just sitting in front of my terminal at

>      work which she feels is worse.


When I first started fighting in the SCA, my chiropractor thought it was a

great idea, and came to several of our practices.  After I injured my knee

falling while roller skating, his response:  "Roller skating?  Now _that_ is



Lyle FitzWilliam


Lyle H. Gray                       Internet (personal): gray at cs.umass.edu

Quodata Corporation            Phone: (203) 728-6777, FAX: (203) 247-0249



From: Erich.Von.Kleinfeld at f120.n109.z1.fidonet.org (Erich Von Kleinfeld)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Fealty (Was: Appropriate to Court)

Date: Fri, 03 Sep 1993 14:51:34 -0500


Arval & Dennis, discussing things appropriate in court, tickled me

to remember an incident at Sea Wars last.

A number of us from North Atlantia had taken a bus to the War,

accompanied by HRM Lucan of the East and several of his warriors.

The bus being our sole mode of transport, we _all_ went to the same

cluster of fast-food places.  In armor.  A number of us wandered

into the nearby Burger King, including HRM Lucan, who was wearing

the oldest of the brass Eastern Crowns (Guess what _it_ looks

like??? :-)).  While we were waiting in line, it chanced to come up

in discussion that Earl Shannon (sp?)  had not yet done fealty to

his majesty.  They adjourned to the seating area, and there did his

Excellency make a most well-wrought oath of fealty to his Majesty.

Stuff doesn't always have to be done in court....


Dexter C. Guptill                  |        Ld. Erich von Kleinfeld

Centreville, VA                    |        Stierbach, Atlantia


From: meg at tinhat.stonemarche.org (meg)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: multiple personae

Date: Wed, 20 Apr 94 07:52:59 EDT

Organization: Stonemarche Network Co-op


lynch_c at csvax1.ucc.ie (Conor Lynch) writes:


> In article <2DB3064D at courier.sscnet.ucla.edu>, Valdez at polisci.sscnet.ucla.EDU


> >What is the "Dark Horde"?  I'm assuming it's a household of sorts, but can't

> >really be sure after seeing only a couple of references to it.


> >CLynch> As far as I'm aware the "Horde" simply refers to those people who ha

> assumed a mongol persona. I don't know why some are the "Dark Horde" or if

> there is a "Light Horde" or a "Dark Aubergine Horde with orange eyebrows"


>                     Cathal MacBrian/ Conor Lynch



Megan here. This reminds me of the morning at Pennsic 14 or 15 (or when

ever it was the Horde broke up into many smaller groups) and at 6 am I

saw a good friend weaving drunkenly down Merchant Row.

     "Hey!" I called out, "Some party, eh? Where've ya been?"

     "Horde camp." he replied.

     "Which one?" I asked, curious.

     "All of 'em!" he answered.




In 1994: Linda Anfuso

In the Current Middle Ages: Megan ni Laine de Belle Rive  

In the SCA, Inc: sustaining member # 33644


                                YYY     YYY

meg at tinhat.stonemarche.org      |  YYYYY  |




Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

From: moore at mari.acc.stolaf.edu (Michael Moore/Peregrine the Illuminator)

Subject: Re: multiple personae

Organization: Baronial Colleges of Nordleigh, SCA

Date: Wed, 20 Apr 1994 14:17:28 GMT


In article <CoI6pM.Jro at curia.ucc.ie> lynch_c at csvax1.ucc.ie writes:

>In article <2DB3064D at courier.sscnet.ucla.edu>, Valdez at polisci.sscnet.ucla.EDU (Valdez, Jonathan      POLI SCI) writes:


>>What is the "Dark Horde"?  I'm assuming it's a household of sorts, but can't

>>really be sure after seeing only a couple of references to it.


>>CLynch> As far as I'm aware the "Horde" simply refers to those people who have

>assumed a mongol persona. I don't know why some are the "Dark Horde" or if

>there is a "Light Horde" or a "Dark Aubergine Horde with orange eyebrows"


>                     Cathal MacBrian/ Conor Lynch


I know not if the Dark Horde has spread to other kingdoms: here in the

Middle, the Dark Horde is a specific household, generally based on mongol

personas (though the best Mongol Spy is the one in Italian Renaissance

garb--you'ld never know they were a spy!).  Stories are told about their

beginnings, when two famous people whose names I don't recall, and

some guy named Yang the Nauseating, also known as Robert Aspirin, came

to an event in furs and skins, bristling with knives.  It quickly grew

into a culture of its own, based on loyalty to your horde brothers,

not loyalty to any power figure like royalty.  


Stories abound about the horde: there is a tradition somewhere that

when the King and Queen are absent from the throne, they leave their

Crown on the throne, and people bow to the crown as a symbol of the

Royal prescence.  Well, one day, the crown was being well guarded by

many fighters good and true... in front of the thrones. Behind the thrones

was a good deal of space, and no guards.  So, some member of the Horde

wandered up behind the thrones, and the crown mysteriously disappeared.


When Court was called, and the King came up to the thrones in grand procession,

he got to the throne and bent to pick up his crown... turned around, and

looked very foolish.  He made various commands and impassioned speeches,

finally declaring that if the crown was not found in such-and-such amount of

time, he would declare the event over, and would not come back.


Meanwhile, back in the Horde, the crown had passed from cloak to cloak,

keeping "hidden" (save to the people who could obviously see that

_something_ was going on), finally coming to rest in a cabinet in one

of the classrooms of the site (yes, we have indoor sites: we don't

stop just because it's too cold to be outside).  One of the Hordefolk

took a piece of paper from the pile in the cabinet and set it on

top of the crown.  They expected someone to find it when they searched,

so they hid behind some curtains to watch the fun.


The King's squires, knights, and other helpers looked high and

low for the crown, finally coming to the room wherein hid the horde and the

crown.  They looked in desks, they looked in closets, and they finally

looked in the cabinet.  Three knights and a squire stared into the

cabinet for a few minutes, then closed it... without noticing the crown.


Finally, one intrepid horde lady decided enough was enough.  She got

all of the people she could find who had cloaks to line up along the

edge of the space, and told them that at her signal, they should spread

out their cloaks.  There were enough to reach from behind the crowd

to behind the thrones.


She gave the signal, and whoof! an instant wall of cloaks appeared.

She ran behind them all the way up to behind the thrones, deposited

the crown back on the king's throne, and ran all the way back.


And noone noticed a thing.


The king, finally so livid he couldn't stand it, began ranting and

raving, stating that this was grand theft, and that if this group

of people couldn't protect a throne that was sitting right there

in front ... of... everyone...    And as the king pointed down

to his throne, and to the little gold crown camly sitting there

minding its own business, his face turned a flaming fuschia, he

grabbed the crown, jammed it on his head, flumped down on the throne,

and said, "court is now in session."



I am not a member of the horde.  Therefore, I can't quite get

across the wonderful feeling of stories where the Royalty (and any other

symbols of power) become fools, and the commonfolk are the

mischief-makers.  There are hordefolk who might be willing to post a good

story or two.


The Dark Horde keeps us humbly aware that we are human.




p.s. yes, I'm a cockeyed optimist.   How could you tell?

p.p.s. in answer to the "Light Horde" and the "pink and purple

polkadot horde" (so I can answer before someone comes along who

might not be so optimistic), the Dark Horde became two some years

ago ("but milord, it's head split! right down the middle! Crosswise!!"),

one known as the Dark Horde, the other as the Moritu (or, if you will,

Classic Horde and Horde Light).  Personality conflicts in households

of well over 1,000 members can be volatile.  Let that be a lesson to you.

p.p.p.s. famous Horde member quote: "well, I could tell you that secret,

but then I'd have to kill you."



From: xxx at postoffice.utas.edu.au ()

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: The lady and the Wyrm (a true story)

Date: Wed, 27 Apr 1994 22:15:23 +1000

Organization: University of Tasmania (Australia)


Greeting all:


Maybe this one should have been under the heading "You know you are in the

SCA..."   well... you be the judge



Earlier this year, at the height of our Austral Summer, my good lady wife

and three small daughters had remained at home one Saturday morning whilst

I was at the University catching up with some work. Romille, my wife, is

fond of sleeping-in on Saturday mornings, and consequently as the clock

struck the hour of 10 before noon, she was still peacefully asleep.  Our

three daughters however, were not...


At about that time, the eldest came into our bedroom and shouted, "Mummy,

mummy, there is a snake on the verandah!"  thinking this was a figment of

the 7-year old's imagination, my still-sleepy wife said something along the

lines of "that's nice" and kept on sleeping. This performance was repeated

a few minutes later, but by then Romille thought she should really go and

check that it WAS all a mistake.   So, still somewhat not-all-there, the

Lady went out the kitchen door to be confronted by a parent's worse

nightmare.   Just a couple of metres away, sunning itself, lay a curled up

Tiger Snake, our most poisonous snake, capable of killing an adult in

minutes.  Just an arms-lengh further on were three delighted children

fascinated by the sleeping reptile.  After quietly telling the girls to

move away, Romille went back inside the house to see what was available to

deal with the intruder.  Ours being a somewhat typical SCA household, the

first things she saw was an old (pulped) tourney sword of mine, and the

live-steel falchion which was the trophy for winning the Baronial Monthly



Taking these weapons in hand, the Lady went forth to do battle with the



To cut a long story short, Romille used the rattan sword to hold the

snake's head down, whilst the steel falchion swooped down and struck off

the reptile's head.


When I returned home that evening, I was greeted by a very smug wife, three

amazed daughters, and one very dead Tiger snake stuck inside a large glass



...And thus it was that our Baronial Falchion was blooded in the breast of

the Wyrm.


Martin de Mont Blanc


Barony of Ynys Fawr





Alex Tewes

ga_tewes at minke.iasos.utas.edu.au


Institute of Antarctic and Southern Ocean Studies

University of Tasmania (Australia)


phone:  +61 02 20 2643

        +61 02 39 1427



<the end>

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