Home Page

Stefan's Florilegium

SCA-stories3-msg



This document is also available in: text or RTF formats.

SCA-stories3-msg - 5/23/11

 

SCA stories related between 5/1/96 and 1/1/09.

 

NOTE: See also the files: SCA-stories1-msg, SCA-hist1-msg, you-know-msg, placenames-msg, vanity-plates-msg, child-stories-msg, border-stories-msg.

 

************************************************************************

NOTICE -

 

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: jeffebear1 at aol.com (JeffEBear1)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: YKYITSCAW

Date: 23 May 1996 13:18:12 -0400

 

(Marnie Fiamengo) writes:

>Or the time that I called 911 to get a cop to come break up a domestic

>dispute so that the woman could get to the emergency room ...

>911 op:  "Are there any weapons in the house?"

>me: "Of course."

>911 op:  "Is he threatening her with one?"

>me: "Yes, that's why I called!"

>911 op:  "What kind of gun?"

>me: "Guns?! No guns, those are dangerous."

>911 op:  "Huh?  Then what do you mean by weapons?"

>me: "Oh you know, swords, knives, daggers, maces, war axes, pike staves,

>Korean chopsticks, ... stuff that can kill..."

 

Ok another cop story..... Stopped for headlamp being out. I'm in the

passenger seat in garb (coming back from a event).  Cop leaninggggg in

the open window (like a chicken with his neck exposed to me) staring with

big eyes down my front (bodice d-cup need I say more). He wanted to know

where we are going etc.

 

After 15 minutes (they have been putting my friend, the driver, through

the paces because they have never seen a albino before and his "eyes

looked weird") the cop asks me to get out. I do and his eyes get

huuuugggge. "put your arms up!" * what huh?* and I do.  He tries to pull

my dagger out of the sheath at my waist. It's peace tied and he can't. So

now he is trying to figure out if he can ask me to take my belt off and

have my skirt fall down(the tie was gone so I had just tucked it in that

day) without him getting in trouble for harassment, plus he just realized

I could have slit his throat any time as he was craning in the

window...........after everything I was asked why I didn't think to tell

the cop I was armed. Because it never occurred to me! It wasn't like I had

a sword on........................who's afraid of a little eating knife?

 

Morigianna   (who now carries all blades in the trunk)

 

 

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

From: bq676 at torfree.net (Kristine E. Maitland)

Subject: Re: YKITSCAW...

Organization: Toronto Free-Net

Date: Thu, 6 Jun 1996 18:10:32 GMT

 

Larkin O'Kane (larkin at webstar.net) wrote:

<snip>

: But then maybe I'm just getting old.

: Larkin O'Kane, Trelac, Ansteorra

 

No, dearest.  Age is not relevant here, though admittedly there are days

when you get the feeling that you've been in the Society too long...

 

Case in point: two years ago (when I was young, stupid and lonely) I was

on one of those "chat-lines".  I was speaking to an Aussie who was

visiting Toronto on business, & who was bored out of his tree.  He sent me

a message asking, "So what do you do for fun?"  I replied, "well on

weekends I hang around men who like to get into armour and beat

each-other's brains in with sticks."

 

His response to that was, "Funny, I didn't think that there were branches of

the S.C.A. in Canada..." [turns out that his girlfriend was a costuming

laurel from Down Under]

 

The Known World is an EXTREMELY small place.

 

Ines Carmen Maria de Freitas

 

 

From: ALBAN at delphi.COM

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: *That* look

Date: 7 Jun 1996 20:27:34 -0400

 

Ines Carmen Maria de Freitas said:

>The Known World is an EXTREMELY small place.

 

Right. There I was, visiting Edinburgh, summer of 1990. I was

walking from my hotel toward The Main Shopping Street, when

I pass a small store that read Scottish Celtic Armoury; I figure it

has knives, and the initials spell SCA, so it's worth at least

looking in. I walk in; the store has a case and a half of good

knives, swords, sgain dubhs, and the like. The proprietor walks

out after a minute or so; I tell him I'm just looking. He tells me

from my accent I'm obviously American. We start chatting. He

tells me he likes Americans, and, in fact, he'd spent the previous

summer's vacation in Pennsylvania. I ask, politely, having been

there, where exactly?

 

He says western Pennsylvania. My grin starts up.

Really? Isn't that a coincidence, I say. I've been there, too.

He continued. There was this "rather odd group of Americans"

he'd come across, and had I ever heard of it, it was called the

Society for Creative Anachronism? He'd spent his vacation

selling and talking about cutlery there. . . .

 

We spend 20 minutes talking about the Tuchux, and Mistress

Morganna the troll person who'd checked him in, and this and

that and the other.

 

I travel 5,000 miles to get away from it all for a week, and wind

up with the SCA....<sigh>

 

(And, to tie loose ends up, I'd heard about him from

Morganna...She remembers him, because there were two

gentlemen from Meridies, with rather thick Tennessee accents,

doing troll duty with her; she was stuck translating from

Edinburgh English to Tennessee English and back again....)

 

Alban, who thinks the SCA is even more widespread than his

parents' relatives. (Don't ask.)

 

 

From: nuala at ix.netcom.com(nuala)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: freak check and VA cops

Date: 4 Sep 1996 15:55:17 GMT

 

greetings good gentles...

 

>In <50iqp3$8pj at juliana.sprynet.com> shaggy01 at sprynet.com (Wil

>Chrapcynski) writes:

 

>How many [of] you have experienced being pulled over by a police officer on

>the way to an event or a faire just because you were dressed in garb

>and that you looked funny?...  What makes

>the matter worse, is that if they pull you over they feel that they

>must give you a ticket for something...

 

I've heard a couple of stories along that line from friends, though

it's never happened to me... one time it was, "Do you have any weapons

in the car?"  "No.  I mean, uh, wait, I forgot about this knife that I

just won in a tournament."  "Whuuut?"  (by the way, this happened in

VA. What Irene said about Virginia cops is almost always true: thick

drawl, thick skull when it comes to the concept of the SCA... sometimes

you're pleasantly surprised, though.)

 

Another time some friends were on their way to an event.  they weren't

in garb, but sometimes being a bunch of young people in one car can get

you pulled over just as easily.

 

"What's that thing in the back of your truck?"

"What thing?"

"The stick thing."

"Show me what you mean."

"No, don't get out of the truck.  Just tell me what it is."

"If you tell me what it looks like, I will."

"About nine feet long, with a football-shaped thing wrapped in duct

tape on one end and a trailer hitch cover on the other..."

"Oh, that's a polearm."

"Whuuut?"

 

nuala of the Red

nuala at ix.netcom.com

 

 

From: auslan94 at matrix (catherine auslander)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: YKITSCAW

Date: 6 Sep 1996 20:07:10 GMT

Organization: SUNY New Paltz

 

About a year ago a friend of mine went looking for an event that

was in his home town.  He (of course) didn't have directions, but figured

if he wandered around long enough, eventually he would find someone in garb.

and sure enough he did.  He then approached the gentles with the intent of

asking directions... but they were ACTUALLY in a play.  :)

                       -Aislinn...:)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Katie Auslander

auslan94 at matrix.newpaltz.edu             "Buildings burn, people die, but

a.k.a. Aislinn                             true love is forever."        

purple is good.                                         -The Crow

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

From: MegLach at msn.com (Lovebirds  )

Subject: Re: You know you're a Stick-Jock when....

Date: 5 Oct 96 11:05:32 -0700

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

 

When you get into an altercation where you work, you are slugged

across the jaw with a clean shot. You look at the guy, and you say

"that was light, MiLord, and I thinkest this will not be!".

 

Actually happened. I got suspended without pay for a week, he was let go.

 

I went easy on him. After all, I was taught to be honorable.

 

Lachlann

 

 

From: moondrgn at bga.com (Chris and Elisabeth Zakes)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: You know you're a Stick-Jock when....

Date: Tue, 08 Oct 1996 14:45:33 GMT

 

MegLach at msn.com (Lovebirds  ) wrote:

 

>when you get into an altercation where you work, you are slugged

>across the jaw with a clean shot. you look at the guy, and you say

>"that was light, MiLord, and I thinkest this will not be!".

 

>Actually happened. I got suspended without pay for a week, he was let go.

 

>I went easy on him. After all, I was taught to be honorable.

>Lachlann

 

A friend of mine had gone to a bar & grill after fighter practice; he

still had his cup in, although he was wearing passably mundane

clothes. In the course of the evening, he noticed a fellow being

overly persistent with a lady at the bar. My friend went over to help

her out. The bad guy turned around and kicked him in the crotch. My

friend looked down, looked at the bad guy and said "Is that your best

shot? I'll give you two more, and then I'll take one."

 

The bad guy decided it was time to leave.

 

       -Tivar Moondragon

               Ansteorra

C and E Zakes

 

 

From: Tara Seides <tara at eb.com>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: You know you're a Stick-Jock when....

Date: Thu, 17 Oct 1996 16:56:24 -0700

Organization: Encyclopaedia Britannica

 

Thorgrim wrote:

>

> petere at vision-inc.com wrote:

> >> ....when you get duct tape in your Christmas stocking!

> >

> >So, um... that would be odd?

> >

> ><his eyes shift nervously>

> >

> >Guess I better take all these rolls of stocking stuffers back to Home

> >Depot. Darn it, what will I get the guys now?

> >

> ><shuffles off to return several rolls of duct tape>

> >

> >For the Dream,

> >Rünwulf

> >Kingdom of Caid

>

> Strapping tape always makes a nice gift, should

> you feel the duct tape inappropriate ;-)>

 

One year, I got my (then-) boyfriend a "fighter's repair kit".  It

consisted of a roll each of duct tape, strapping tape and electrician's

tape. :-)  Much to my surprise, I got the same thing in my stocking, as

did my mom!  Boy, what a family!  :-)

 

Marsali MacLiammoir                             mka Tara Seides

of Haus Drachenholt                             tara at eb.com

Barony of Calafia, Caid                         San Diego, CA

 

 

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

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Sign Language in Court???

Date: 3 Nov 1996 01:07:00 GMT

Organization: Canisius College, Buffalo, NY  14208

 

DeeWolff (deewolff at aol.com) wrote:

: I have the privilege of residing in the East, where there is a wonderful

: herald who signed just about every court I have attended. I unfortunately

: do not know her name, but I sure the current royals do......

 

She's Lady Cedar.  Pennsic Court was wonderful this year.  The herald called

*her* into court to accept a service award.  She was in full "In the ears, out

the fingers" mode when she suddenly realized she was signing her own name!

She stopped cold, stared at her hands for a few seconds, then turned to the

herald. The entire court was grinning at her.  The applause for her was

thunderous!

 

                                                      - Dagonell

 

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

Habitat        : East Kingdom, AEthelmearc Principality, Rhydderich Hael Barony

Internet    : salley at cs.canisius.edu  (Please use this, reply may not work.)

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

 

 

From: moondrgn at bga.com (Chris and Elisabeth Zakes)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Confusing the Mundanes (was Tweaking. . .)

Date: Sun, 29 Dec 1996 05:35:50 GMT

 

My favorite story has got to be the time I was flying out of the

Houston airport in full Elizabethan garb. I was checking out the books

in the airport gift shop, rounded a corner and confronted the

salesclerk. She dropped her jaw, picked it up and asked ". . .uh,

aren't those the kind of clothes they wore back in the, uh, 1920s?"

 

       -Tivar Moondragon

               Ansteorra

 

C and E Zakes

Tivar Moondragon (Patience and Persistence)

and Aethelyan of Moondragon (Decadence is its own reward)

moondrgn at bga.com

 

 

Organization: University of Maine System

Date: Thu, 2 Jan 1997 22:36:39 EST

From: joe dupere <DUPERE at MAINE.MAINE.EDU>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Tweaking the mundanes...(used to be something else....)

 

A while back, I was at fighter practice one evening, which was being held

in the field house at the local college. I was holding my own against

all the young pups, but, discretion being the better part of valor, I

decided to let the young fellows wear themselves out a bit on each other.

(Not that I'm old, mind you, but there is quite a bit of grey in my beard

and hair these days). I decided to wander over to the other side of the

field house and get some cold water from the fountain. Ah, you should have

seen me! I cut such a dashing figure strolling around the indoor track.

Beads of manly persperation bejewelling my brow, my long curly hair

gently blowing in the breeze created by the runners on the track. My new

surcoat (gules, a chevron argent(which, by the way conflicts with three

dead knights from several hundred years ago)) richly contrasting with my

black armor. With my articulated knees and elbows clanking pleasantly in

my ears, I bestowed smiles upon all the comely lasses I saw on my stroll.

At the water fountain I drank deeply of the cold water, and turning away

I came face to face with a campus policeman, who was staring at me.

"We've had reports from several women about an old guy dressed funny

lurking around the gym" he said, still staring at me. "Have you seen him?"

All I could say was "No sir, I haven't!" He turned to leave and said,

"Well, If you do, give us a call, we don't want that kind of trouble

around here."

 

I was pretty sure it wasn't me they were looking for, but still, if a

middle aged grey-haired man in a suit of armor doesn't fit the description

"an old guy dressed funny" I'm not really sure I want to know what does!

 

Jehan FitzAlan

 

 

From: gbrent at rsc.anu.edu.au ()

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: tents at Pennsic or other events

Date: 9 Jan 1997 23:40:07 GMT

Organization: Research School of Chemistry, Australian National University

 

> > From: bronwynmgn at aol.com

> > For one thing, as someone else noted, there is no such

> > thing as privacy at Pennsic.  Tent walls block no sound at all, tents

> > shimmy nicely with certain movements, and there are few places at Pennsic

> > where you can not expect to be backlighted at least once a night by

> > campfires, lanterns or car headlights.  

 

>(puzzled look)  My tent (both my first 8x10 and the 12x16 monster tent I

>currently use)  never (ahem) shimmied while they were being used in the

>pursuit of recreational activities.  (and believe me, I can get pretty

>recreational.. (G)  I solved the backlighting problem long ago by hanging

>drapes inside my tent on all four walls.. they're made from cheaply

>purchased Burlington drapery fabric remnants, with a white vinyl lining.

>Car headlights can hit 'em, you won't see anything.  And they really make

>the inside of the tent look more like a pavilion.  

 

Ah, backlighting... To play in a tent is fine. To play with the light on

is chancy. To play with the light left on when your tent is visible from

the tavern is... well, likely to increase your recognition factor.

 

I was searching for garb in my tent one night, with the light on. A

bunch of my friends were drunk outside, and from the comments they

seemed to think they were seeing a shadow-play _much_ more exciting than

anything I was actually doing. So I decided to add some variety. It took

them about ten seconds to realise that they were now watching a duck

make its way across the tent. ;-)

 

       GtQ

 

 

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

From: Paul Kay <paul.kay at lincroftnj.ncr.com>

Subject: Re: Collecting Scadian Folklore

Organization: N&SM

Date: Wed, 12 Mar 1997 21:02:58 GMT

 

I am not sure how welcome this will be, but I have a few pieces of data

that might add to the discussion.  I know, facts might get in the way,

but here I go...

 

rebecca fildes wrote:

> RLKP88A at prodigy.com (Connie Collins) writes:

> >Well how about some really bad jokes?   Most of these were told to

> >me as true stories that happened to somebody who was a friend of a

> >friend but they've all acquired punchlines over the years.

> >

> >A fighter with a new motorcycle decided that he was going to take it

> >to the local war to show it off to his good buddies.   [snip]

> > "Don't worry, I'm a nurse!"

> >Can you blame the poor motorist for fainting?

 

When I herd it (and as I tell it :*)), this is an exageration and

understatement both.  The armor was his new chain mail and he was

wearing his bascinet, with his shield across his back.  Much simpler

armor than described.

 

The person I heard it about was Andrew of Seldomrest - a real nurse.  He

saw the accident stopped to help and found the driver unconsious.  The

driver woke up while being examined to see if he could be moved.  That

is when he saw a Large man in armor who said "Don't worry, I'm a

nurse!" Andrew seemed to have forgotten how he was dressed.  The man

passed out again.

 

Another Andy story (even less sure of the provenence):

There was a prison uprising at his work-place.  As I heard it, some of

the prisoners figured on making an escape shielded behind the "pansey

male nurse" and threatened Andrew with a broom-stick that they would

beat him up if he gave them trouble.  He disabused them of that notion

and returned them to the guards.

 

Afterwards (as I heard it), he went into the warden's office with the

broom. He complained about the accessability of the handles.  He ended

by rising up on his toes and smashing the broom handle down on the

warden's riot helmet while saying "You could hurt some one with one of

these!" Both the handle and the helmet broke.

 

>     As a side note, the motorcycling fighter is the SCA equivalent of

> an 'urban folktale'.

 

Or it has become one, having happened in AS single digits and being told

by loudmouths like me. :*)

 

From another thread, there was the discussion a while back on the "What

would you like to eat?" "Meat!"  "Um, what kind?" "Cooked!" joke.

Someone pointed out they had heard it attributed to Tom Troll in early

days. (If you do not have that one, it should be fairly recent in Deja

News). I heard the same from several sources who claimed to be there

(and were his friends).  It happened somewhere around the founding of

the Middle Kingdom in timeframe, and has grown and spread through being

told by... but I repeat myself.

 

And still another from another thread today (on fencing in the Middle,

of all topics):

Matthew Saroff wrote:

 

>         My guess is that hairline fractures of fingers and hands are not

> uncommon, and frequently unnoticed, particularly for people who fight

> polearm and great weapon.  I have heard a story about a woman who fought

> heavy who went to the ER as a result of a workplace accident, and got a

> finger set.  The doctor then asked her about the other 8 times that she

> broke her hands.

 

This happened when Fern was learning bastard sword.  She recounted it

while asking for pointers.  This was around 1980/81.  In those days,

hockey gloves _were_ hand protection and only really good swords had

barn door handles as knuckle protection.

 

Her hand hurt, so she thought "Why not use my employer's clinic?" and

went to the staff clinic at MSU.

 

The doctor looked at the X-rays and asked if she played hockey.

 

He was the trainer for the hockey team and had only seen that sort of

injury there.  When he showed her the films and pointed out the next

most recent one she said " Oh, yes, my wrist was a bit weak last January

and February!" (As she was telling it she use a wondering "Oh, wow! sort

of tone.)

 

This encouraged several of us to make hand-shields.

 

Last is one I have always liked.  I have no idea on the provenence.  The

original was attributed (again) to Tom Troll.

 

Tom was going through Detroit Metro Airport and was accosted by some

Krishnas. They were persistant and he was feeling puckish so he played

along when they refused a brush off attempt.  Eventually, they were so

convinced they had him going that they invited him to the temple.

 

"We will have a love feast there." says one.

 

"What will you serve?" asks Tom, mildly.

 

"Wholesome foods! Organic vegetables, rice soups.  Delicious!" was the

answer.

 

"Will you have potato salad?"

 

"Um. No."

 

Standing up to his full height and expanding his chest to look hugely

threatening, Tom shouted "No potato Salad! That's no Feast!  I'm not

going if there is no potato salad!"

 

The Chrishnas beat a hasty retreat.

 

There are several even more appochriphal follow on stories, but this has

probably been boring enough.

 

       Bart the Bewildered (and his fly paper memory)

       Carillion, East

--

Paul Kay

NCR

Lincroft, NJ            paul.kay at lincroftnj.ncr.com

 

 

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Pools

From: Holly_Sullivan at elric.maximumaccess.com (Holly Sullivan)

Date: Wed, 19 Mar 97 11:22:42 PDT

 

> djheydt at uclink.berkeley.edu (Dorothy J Heydt) writes:

> >"...to lifeguard at the pool..."  gosh, how strange that sounds.

> >I can't tell from your post where you are; where are you, where

> >most events are held by a pool?  

 

> From: fivegates at aol.com (Lady Kara)

> MUST be here at home in Trimaris. I was just advising one lady the other

> day who just moved here from the East, regarding fabrics tolerable in

> Trimaris's heat and humidity. I also told her I had seen times when it

> was so unbearable that court was held in the Pool.

 

(G) I remember that.  I also remember an event some years back.. coming

off the list field in full armor, on a typical Trimaris day (hot!!!), Duke

Merowald walked into the deep end of the pool. He proceeded to make a trail

of bubbles up the center of the pool as he walked along the bottom to the

shallow end.  Upon climbing out, he turns to the group and says "AHHHH,

that's better" and continues on his way down the hill to his tent.

 

Let me add that I have never seen a group of SCAdians shut up so fast as

when Merowald first stepped into the pool.  (g)

 

(Missy Atalaya, I seem to recall you were in the pool that day. :)  

 

:)---Holly---<--<- at    * San Diego, CA *  Warning: .sig ahead!   :)

 

 

From: whheydt at slip.net (Wilson Heydt)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Gulf Wars

Date: 30 Mar 1997 21:15:44 -0800

 

Andrea Thompson <andrealt at ix.netcom.com> wrote:

>>*******Don't take lanterns into tents if your're making woopie. What I

>>*******learned at Gulf Wars.

>At least, not unless you wish to *share* your woopie with all in the

>general vicinity.....<G>.

 

Reminds me of what I was told by former Principality Constable of Cynagua...

 

Outside of a tent in which the occupants have been noted to appear to

be having a *very* good time...repeatedly...

 

Lady: You guys should keep it down in there.

 

Man in tent:  You can't make us! I'll tell the constable to make you

leave us alone!

 

Lady: Start talking.

 

Man in tent:  Oops.

 

       Hal Ravn                                Hal Heydt

       Mists, Mists, West                      Albany, CA

 

 

Date: Tue, 06 May 1997 10:49:34 +0000

From: Ghislaine Fontanneau/Elayne Hoover <elyh at wcc.net>

Organization: Law Offices of Smith-Smith-Wilson-&-Bootsie

To: ansteorra at eden.com

Subject: Re: SCAdian vs mundane (living among the sheep)

 

Once upon a time, an SCA sword merchant (don't know his name, but he

sells for M.A.S. weapons and may I say they are very good quality

weapons!), we'll call him lord Bob, moved into a new mundane

neighborhood. Now, Bob spends so much of his time traveling to events

to sell his swords that he had to take off Fridays and Mondays.  It got

to be such a hassle, and he was making lots of money in the merchant

trade, that he just quit his job.  When he moved into the new

neighborhood, he had no job outside of SCA merchanting, wore mostly half

garb (Cavalier shirt and bluejeans, or the like) all the time, and of

course, had more swords on his walls than most grandparents have

photographs. His neighbors were intimidated by this scrawny short man

with swords.  

 

One day in his 'on the border of the inner city' neighbor hood, two

rival gangs decided to rumble in neutral territory: Bob's front lawn.

Bob was awakened out of a lovely sound sleep (it was still noon) and was

not happy about the arrangements of the two rival gangs.  There were

young children living next door!  His neighbors may not like him, but he

is an honorable man...  Bob dressed, and grabbed his big, real-steel

claymore, and strode out his door.  He planted his two feet firmly on

the ground and shouted for all to hear, "No-one has a knife fight on my

front lawn unless I get to play too!"  

 

Now, at least two of these kids lived close enough to Bob's house to

have seen him practicing on the pell.  They didn't know at the time why

he was beating an upright log with a duct-taped stick, but when they saw

him standing with that claymore propped up against his shoulder, the

edge glinting in the noon day sun, they began to be enlightened.  They

encouraged their gang friends to leave Bob's front yard...soon.  

 

Later that day, after the danger had passed, Bob heard a knock at his

door. It was one of his neighbors with a casserole in her hands, "We

weren't too sure about you when you first moved in here, but now we

think you're okay!" she announced proudly.  Soon she was followed by

another neighbor, and another casserole, and another neighbor, and

another casserole....

 

 

From: "J'lynn Yeates" <jyeates at bga.com>

To: ansteorra at eden.com

Date: Tue, 6 May 1997 11:39:22 +0000

Subject: Re: SCAdian vs mundane (interactions)

 

Two summers back was taking advantage of a cool saturday morning by

staying late in bed with a lady friend ... until i hear a knock at

the front door (left open to cool house).

 

Due to nature of the pastimes at hand, all i was wearing was

my pentacle, so garb pair shorts and open vest and wander into living

room (wandering where the bloody hound is .... who was *supposed* to

be guarding the porch as was his normal habit.)

 

There, in the middle of the living room i find a old guy in a

dark suit, clutching a bible, his back to me, goggling about the

swords & axes & shields & spear racks ....  

 

Being more than a little annoyed with someone *in* my house, i

exclaim "What the HELL are you doing in my house!"  

 

He spins around (almost falling over) and sticks out hand ... "I'm

the rev. "something".  Your door was open so i thought i would

come in and welcome you to our congregation".  

 

My considered reply, "GET OUT!"   At this point he sees the

naked woman woman behind me, but quickly focus's on the penticle and

starts stammering.  Being a old-guy without a clue, he get's one

more chance "LEAVE NOW!" ... nada

 

As i am walking to him, i pick up a leaf-blade short sword i was

working on off the bench and walk him (backwards) out of my house at

swordpoint ... while companion is giggling madly.

 

About all that came to mind at the moment to say (in all seriousness)

"Damn, i knew i should have gotten the screens up, the damned

baptists are getting in" ... At which point she went into hysterics

... *then* the hound showed up and took up his normal place.

 

To this day, when same person does his "rounds", he gets to my

property line and moves to the center of the street.

 

Have also found it to be of value to clean & sharpen spears or

blades on the porch when the Jehova's Witnesses are working the

block. For some reason it keeps them away.

 

'wolf

 

[The mentioned "hound" is a large wolf/dog mix. - Stefan]

 

 

From: seeker17 at ix.netcom.com (Michael J. Watson)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: 'Ellen' episode & recreationists

Date: Thu, 06 Nov 1997 15:31:48 GMT

Organization: Safe Haven Products

 

liran at mail.tdl.com (lea bob ) wrote:

>Chendra Conklin <cac59 at pantheon.yale.edu> wrote:

 

>>I just watched tonight's episone of Ellen - which was a hysterical

>>commentary on the recreationist culture. I could see every line

>>happening at an event......  I think that our version of the stockade

>>would probably be a minivan though....

>> 

>>-the redhead-

>> 

>>Chendra Conklin

 

>"all right, men.  form up the shield wall.  we'll advance to the 7-11,

>capture the parking lot & then wheel about to form a corridor.  the

>archers will cover us & Lord HumptyScrunch here will run in & make the

>beer purchase.  does everyone have their cup on?  Humpty - got your

>i.d.? then, for Honor & Chirvalry, lay on!"

 

>liran

 

Oh my.

 

Liran, I thought I was going to die laughing when I read your

response. After an event a number of years ago about six of us

stopped at a 7-11 to get beer and chips for a party/revel.  When we

walked in we descovered we’re not in Kansas any more.  We were in a

gang hang out with about a dozen dudes in colors.  We were of course

in costume.  We did something very much like what you discribed!  

 

We didn't balk, formed a defensive position, advanced on the cooler,

got our stuff and retreated from the convenience store in good order but

only the broadswords at our side and our strange behavior detered

them.

 

As for the ellen episode I must admit it was funny.  I don't like the

show usually.  I live in dread of the day some sitcom adds a character

who is in the SCA.  I think the exposure we get will not be worth the

sitcom portrayal of our decidedly odd lifestyle choices.  But think of

the costumes!

 

 

Date: Fri, 29 Aug 1997 18:53:36 -0700

From: Cynthia Virtue <cvirtue at ricochet.net>

To: sca-arts at raven.cc.ukans.edu

Subject: Re: SCA ULs

 

Carol at Small Churl Books wrote:

> If some version of it can be authenticated (first hand, not

> friend-of-a-friend), Professor Jan Harold Brunvald at the University of Utah would

love to have the information.

 

I can't do that one, but I can vouch for the following:

 

My cousin was posted to an aircraft carrier two years ago.  There was a group

of SCA folk who regularly had practices on the flight deck.  An SCA-specific

bit of military protocol was approved: Fighters in armor *should not* salute

their superior officers.  Too many people were ending up with mild

concussions, abrasions, etc, from saluting, helms off, gauntlets on.

 

If the professor wants specifics on this (contact info for my cousin, etc), I

can provide that.

 

Yep, this is 'arts.'  Ya, um, Storytelling!  Um, Armor Design!  Yep.

---

Lady Cynthia du Pre Argent, Minister of Silly Hats, Crosston

 

 

Date: Fri, 29 Aug 1997 19:21:33 -0700

From: Brett and Karen Williams <brettwi at ix.netcom.com>

To: sca-arts at raven.cc.ukans.edu

Subject: Re: SCA ULs

 

Once upon a time I knew a young knight, by the name of Marshall of Eaglesbane. He had done me the  honor of fighting for me in Western Crown tourney, back in my youth. Our paths eventually parted years ago, as paths do, when he was

posted to Germany as an artillery officer-- a lieutenant.

 

As I later heard the tale, Marshall's commanding officer got wind of his unusual

hobby. During the course of the Twenty Questions Session that followed, Marshall explained the symbolism of the SCA knight's white belt, chain and

spurs-- the oath, and the fealty it represented within the Society.

 

The commanding officer promptly got out a pen and a piece of paper, wrote furiously for a moment, then handed Marshall a small set of standing orders, together with the directive to post those orders inside the tank so that all the crew could see why their lieutenant was deliberately breaking the uniform regulations.

 

You see, Sir Marshall had been ordered to wear his knightly belt, chain and spurs while on duty in his tank...

 

ciorstan

 

 

Date: Fri, 5 Sep 1997 23:50:51 -0500 (CDT)

From: "J. Michael Shew" <jshewkc at pei.edu>

Subject: Re: SCA ULs

To: Eloise Beltz-Decker

CC: Mark Harris, Katherine Estep, Carrie K Sanders, Meliora & Drake,

DianaFiona at aol.com, fiondel at i1.net, rmcgrath at nfsa.gov.au

 

      Warning: These tales are not authenticated.  They are Mythos

generated within the SCA and may not be true.  But, shucks!  They are good

stories anyway!

 

      Do not reffer to these as true tales.  Instead, think of them as

SCA Myths.  We deserve a few...

 

      The SCA and Rock and Roll

 

      (source, an interview with Stevie Winwood)

      Stevie Winwood, when still playing with the super-group Traffic,

was touring the US on a long and extended set of dates.  He was in the

back of a Limo stuck in traffic, (Pun inserted here) and noticed some

funny people cavorting in a park in the LA area where he was.  Near the

road, a "kid" as he called him, was strumming a guitar while dressed in a

jester's costume.  Winwood rolled down the window to listen in and heard a

tune he kind of reccognized, but could not put a finger on.  The traffic

snarl cleared, and he continued on his way.

 

      When he reached the concert hall, he could not get the tune out of

his mind.  He continued to hum it, asking everyone in the band if they

knew the tune.  They could not identify it, but it seemed familiar...

 

      Later, when they had ended the tour, they found the song, and it

was decided they would try to play it for a lark.  The audiences in their

own home area, (England) found it wonderfull, so they included it on the

next album.  Before they finished the recording session, it was the title

track.

 

      So a western bard inspired the "John Barleycorn Must Die" album...

 

      A Knight-Baronette in the SCA

      (Told to me by a participant.)

 

      A Court Baron was active in a distant land, (He was in the SCA

and in the US Marines for years.)  Stationed in Japan, he tried very hard

to come up with fun events in his shire.  The best idea he had was the

Highland Games they proposed to have on a spring date.  The event was

several months off, so the word leaked out and a Japanese High school that

they regularly did demos for offered to serve as a location and to provide

some of the "atmosphere" by training their band to play Bagpipes.

  

      The Baron was horrified by the thought of teenage Japanese

Bagpipers, but he agreed.  Oddly enough, the kids did allright, although

they only knew two songs and played them quite often.

 

      A variety of games were offered, with the Caber toss, (Using a

section of telephone pole), putting the stone, (Using a "stone" of

concrete with a cast in handle and the high school's high jump pole,) and

a trowing event using a very heavy rock they found on the site.

 

      Several passers-by stopped to watch, and a lot of them found it

interesting. Suddenly a largish, blond man stepped out of the crowd and

asked to join in.  He begged the use of a plaid table cloth they had,

improvised a great kilt, and entertained them all with a full-blown

routine of being a highland scot noble of the 1300's.  He was so

convincing and was so knowlegeable that they begain to believe he was SCA

material!

 

      He won the caber toss, came in second in the stone, and won most

of the other events.  The local group did have the information and the

right, (As they were awfully isolated from the crown,) to give AOA's so

they set about creating a scroll to award the newby.

 

      One of them engaged the new guy in conversation, to ferret out

what SCA name he would use.  He replied, "Oh, I'm (name witheld),

Knight-baronette." The information gathering individual pointed out that

titles were earned in the SCA, and that there was no Knight Baronete in

the Society.

 

      At this point the individual said "What's the SCA?"

 

      It seems the person WAS a Knight-Baronette from Scotland...

      (Addendum: I was shown the photo that was recieved a month later.

It clearly shows a man standing beside his mantle.  Above it is the family

crest, a title from the Queen of England, and the Charter for his lands.

Anmong them, in the largest frame, is a Xeroxed SCA awards scroll.  He

said it was the only title he had ever really earned...)

 

      Please Refrain from Killing The Stars....

 

      The Kingdom of Calontir is located in the Midwest, where people

don't act rude as a mater of course.  The movie "Henry V" was showing at a

rather staid and conservative theater in the most conservative area there.

Many SCA folk had come to view the film, but as is the custom, none of

them wore garb and therefore few if any knew others were there.

 

      The film was watched in silent awe.  When the climatic battle was

joined, the fierce combat was observed by dozens of potential SCA

combatants.

 

      Suddenly a new angle was flashed on the screen, and it was obvious

to the not-so-mundane viewers that the French attacker was less than

skilled. Almost in unison twenty voices said: "I could take him!"

 

      Silence follwed.  No further comment was made.  Most of them

ducked out in the darkness during the closing credits...

 

      (Not me.  I sat there and counted the SCAers as they went by!)

 

Mikal

____________________________________________________________________________

Herra-Domr Mikal the Ram; an annoying Bard of no redeeming qualities

 

 

Date: Tue, 9 Jun 1998 17:48:25 -0700

From: kat <kat at kagan.com>

Subject: SC - re:  A Gentle's Good Deeds

 

There are dozens and dozens in my years of SCAing; but I'll simply tell you my favorite:I finally, finally convinced my mom to go to an SCA event; after her many years of "expressing concern" <I'm being polite ;-) > about my"unsavory" hobby.  It was a Coronet; but instead of a Tournament of the Roses on the side, they held a Tournament of the Chocolate Chip Cookies (hey, who are we to argue with a princess's whim?)

 

My mom and I settled under our Barony's "y'all come" sunshade and watched the fighting.  I could tell she was not going to change her mind easily, no matter how wonderful everyone was being and how colorful and fun the event was -- BUT THEN -- A young fighter came up to my mom, got down on his knees, and proffered her a chocolate chip cookie.  He then explained the tradition to my mystified mom.

 

(Apparently, a knight who was lady-less for the day chose to win that fight for her because she looked like she needed a smile.) Her attitude rapidly changed from "your dippy friends" to "when's the next one?"

 

   <hee hee hee!!!>

       - kat

 

 

From: corun at access5.digex.net (Corun MacAnndra)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: YKYISCA

Organization: We don't need no steenkin' organization

Date: Tue, 30 Jun 1998 12:01:31 GMT

 

<salley at niktow.canisius.edu> wrote:

>Toddler??? A toddler will pick the concept up by osmosis from his

>surroundings. What's impressive is when the _dogs_ learn what 'Hold!' means

>:-) :-)

 

Reminds me of a story some friends of mine from Ansteorra once told me.

They own a large Keish hound named Ceir (Gaelic for Bear and he is one).

They had Ceir at an event and were walking with some friends who also had

their smaller dog (sorry, type unremembered), when the Royal party walked

by. Everyone stopped to bow to Their Majesties Ansteorra, and at a signal

from the owners, both dogs dropped to the ground, paws outstretched in

front of them. The Seneschale (I think it was the Seneshcale) was reported

to have exclaimed, "My God, you've even got the dogs bowing!"

 

Corun

 

 

Date: Sat, 10 Oct 1998 09:48:46 -0700 (PDT)

From: Karen <tyrca at yahoo.com>

Subject: Re: SC - chopsticks use?

 

And by the way, I think the funniest thing I saw in my earlier days in

the SCA was related to chopsticks.  We had an individual, at the time

acting as the personal herald for the King and Queen who had a

Japanese persona.  He was very studious about it, and was always in

appropriate garb.  One Saturday morning, at an event, I passed the

Royal encampment, and saw him, already partially dressed in his

Japanese armor, eating breakfast.  No one else was around in camp, and

I was simply on the way to the porta-john, but he was eating out of a

small rice bowl with lacquered chopsticks, and I laughed when I saw

that he was eating Fruit Loops cereal, and sipping the milk.  Now that

is an interesting twist on persona play.

 

Tyrca

==

Lady Tyrca Ivarsdottir

AoA, OPN, ASTA, oleander

Barony of Elfsea

Kingdom of Ansteorra

 

 

From: Jim Fox-Davis <firedrake at earthlink.net>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: YKYITSCA...

Date: Sun, 27 Dec 1998 16:47:03 -0800

 

JULIE ELAINE SIERACKI wrote:

> YKYITSCA when your helmet sits next to your helmet on your wall locker

> and you have to explain that you tried to register your sword with the

> Provost Marshal but they don't register 'knives' (so the arms room won't

> store it because you can't prove it's registered).  Or when you are trying

> to explain a particularly nasty bruise or sprain to the medics.  When

> someone asks you what unit you are in and you respond with your SCA war

> unit name, not your military unit.  Been there, done that.

 

Many years ago, when I worked for the City of L.A., we altered the city records

of Lady Bevin Fraser of Sterling (Katherine Kurtz), to indicate military

service: Army of the West; conflict:  Pennsic III.

 

Jared (ok, so there were three other SCA folk in the office, including the boss)

 

 

Subject: Re: True SCA Story

Date: Thu, 11 Feb 1999 06:35:46 -0800 (PST)

From: Julia Windsor <lywindsor at yahoo.com>

To: Merry Rose <atlantia at atlantia.sca.org>

 

The day of Crown Tourney, spring '94 Baroness Aileen stopped at an ATM

just off Ft. Bragg before picking me up in Raleigh at 4:00 AM. Three

very large guys sat in their car and watched her get her money. They

watched that is until she turned around to leave and they saw her very

real sword. They left without ever getting out of their car or

bothering Aileen.

 

As told to me by the Baroness herself,

Julia

==

Lady Julia Windsor

 

 

Subject: Re: True SCA Story?

Date: Thu, 11 Feb 1999 14:27:53 -0500

From: "E. T. Smith" <etsmith at compuzone.net>

To: Brenna <sunnie at exis.net>

CC: SCAVard at aol.com, atlantia <atlantia at atlantia.sca.org>

 

>Yes, but aren't urban legends fun.  What about the one where the Russians were

>sending spy planes over to get pics of the manuevers on one of our aircraft

>carriers. One of the officers ordered all the SCAdians onboard to muster

>ondeck with all the heraldry and equipment they had with them and hold fighter

>practice.

>The story goes that they had a great deal of fun listening to the conversations

>the Russians had trying to figure what in the heck the Navy was training for

>this time.

 

   It's not often that anyone can lend credence to an urban legend. In this case, the aircraft carrier was USS Nimitz (CV-68), the officer was Captain Ed Clexton, USN who was then commanding officer, and the SCA group was a Port the name of which I cannot recall. Yea, verily. Captain Clexton had a lot of fighter pilot moxie and really enjoyed seeing the heavy weapon fighters practicing on the hangar deck.

 

   The Russian Long Range Army (strategic bombers) Bear/Badger pilots routinely conducted their graduation training exercise from the Murmansk/Kola Gulf area by reconnoitering a U.S. Navy battle group enroute to or from the

Mediterranean. Of course, the Navy's task was to either elude identification or rendezvous with the bombers and escort them while they were in the vicinity of the battle group. (FYI, I did this on many occasions and usually found the bomber crews had the latest issue of Playboy to hold up to their cockpit window.)

 

   On the occasion in question, Captain Clexton did call for the SCA fighters to muster on the flight deck in armor and hold fighter practice. While I cannot

say NSTIW, I did hear the story from the horse's mouth....Captain Clexton.

 

Best wishes to all from a rather ancient mariner.

Thomas Smyth of Ayre

 

 

Subject: Re: True SCA Story?

Date: Thu, 11 Feb 1999 15:17:41 EST

From: JBRMM266 at aol.com

To: etsmith at compuzone.net, sunnie at exis.net

CC: SCAVard at aol.com, atlantia at atlantia.sca.org

 

In a message dated 99-02-11 14:29:59 EST, etsmith at compuzone.net writes:

 

<< It's not often that anyone can lend credence to an urban legend. In this case, the aircraft carrier was USS Nimitz (CV-68), the officer was Captain Ed Clexton, USN who was then ommanding officer, and the SCA group was a Port

the name of which I cannot recall.>>

 

Its name was Currach Mór, which means "Big Boat".  As the poursuivant of

Marinus, from which they then sailed, I assisted them with the design of

their Arms.

 

~Donal Mac Ruiseart

 

 

Subject: [Fwd: More True stories]

Date: Thu, 11 Feb 99 13:26:44 MST

From: rmhowe <magnusm at ncsu.edu>

To: joeb at locksley.com, ladycaviar at unidial.com,

   MelanieWilson at compuserve.com, stefan at texas.net,

   "Mark.S Harris (rsve60)" <rsve60 at email.sps.mot.com>

   , LIB_IMC at centum.utulsa.edu

 

This is Duke Badouin MacKenzie writing. Duke Gyrth OldCastle is the

Gyrth referred to.

 

   ---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Subject: More True stories

Date: Thu, 11 Feb 1999 13:52:00 -0500

From: Peter Adams <redduke at earthlink.net>

To: "'atlantia at atlantia.sca.org'" <atlantia at atlantia.sca.org>

 

Firstly, I think tha Vis's adventure's with the Nat Guard occurred

while he was a master at arms in the east, well before he had won any

crowns. He told me that story a lonnnng time ago. He was still

accounted the best pole fighter this side of the Mississippi, though, at

that time.  It is very possible that oral tradition has added in another

similar encounter, its not all that shocking really...

 

   Another interesting story, also quite documentably true, dates from

very early in the East Kingdom's history.

 

   Traveling home via the New York subways from and event somewhere in New

York, a party of one gentleman and an undefined number of ladies was

first harrassed (presumably they were "freaking the mundanes" as it used

to be called, and were in garb) and then set upon by a gang of subway

toughs. The gentleman, (it is my discredit that I can not recall his

name, however Gyrth knows all tells some...) held the exit stairs (with

weapons as diverse as a rattan sword to a pot metal dagger in oral

tradition) as best he could to effect the escape of the ladies.  This

resulted in his (hopefully brief) hospitalization with major lacerations

(bike chains) and broken bones.

 

   This warrior had been under observation by the Chivalry of the East,

the popular story is that he didnt look good enough to knight, based on

his combat skills.  The actions he took to defend the ladies were enough

to convince the Chivalry of his essential Knightliness, and in fact he

was knighted for his valor.

 

   Another story of Knighthood involves a US Airforce Serviceman in

-Denmark or Holland is it? wherever my namesake Baudouin is currently king-

 

   He was an avid kayaker, and entered a significant race.  It is

important to know that King Baudouin is an avid Kayak fan.  The

serviceman and his partner knew no Walloon (the local language) and ran

the race as best they could, though they were impressed by the fortitude

of the local kayak racers, as there was one section of very rough water.

As they came around the final bend, the crowd went wild!  Our Boys had

done us proud and won the race, beating all previous course records by a

considerable margin.

 

   In fact, the King decided to knight them, did so, and Congress ratified

the foreign title.

 

   The Kicker? Our Boys had kayaked (Tough word to parse there) right

past signs (in Walloon) that said "Dangerous water, must Portage"

 

       Naytheless, Chevalier (insert name here, he did a CA on games) came

home and became a squire, and took his knight (so it is said) as his

modern squire, so in fact somewhere there is a knight who has a squire

who is a knight who has a squire that is a knight.

 

       The Truth is Stranger than Fiction

       Badouin

 

 

Subject: RE: More True stories

Date: Thu, 11 Feb 1999 20:12:17 -0500

From: E L Wimett <silverdragon at Charleston.Net>

To: "'atlantiaatlantiascaorg'" <atlantia at atlantia.sca.org>

 

> Poster: Peter Adams <redduke at earthlink.net> wrote

 

>    Traveling home via the New York subways from and event somewhere in New

> York, a party of one gentleman and an undefined number of ladies was

> first harrassed (presumably they were "freaking the mundanes" as it used

> to be called, and were in garb) and then set upon by a gang of subway

> toughs.  The gentleman, (it is my discredit that I can not recall his

> name, however Gyrth knows all tells some...) held the exit stairs (with

> weapons as diverse as a rattan sword to a pot metal dagger in oral

> tradition) as best he could to effect the escape of the ladies.  This

> resulted in his (hopefully brief) hospitalization with major lacerations

> (bike chains) and broken bones.

 

>       This warrior had been under observation by the Chivalry of the East,

> the popular story is that he didnt look good enough to knight, based on

> his combat skills.  The actions he took to defend the ladies were enough

> to convince the Chivalry of his essential Knightliness, and in fact he

> was knighted for his valor.

 

       Baudouin, the knight in question was Koppel fun Baurieux who ws

knighted on 18 March, 1970, in a world much simpler than our own.  Koppel

later moved to Trimaris (and was still there the last time I saw him). He

was active as a herald for years in both kingdoms and I saw him at heraldic

symposia frequently.  (One of the first and few men to wear a stringed cap

in the proper manner, which is what many people knew him best for.  A truly

modest and gracious man with a very quiet demeanour.)

 

Alisoun (erstwhile Clerk of Precedence and history maven)

 

 

Subject: More SCA Stories

Date: Fri, 12 Feb 1999 03:29:28 -0500

From: nix at iolinc.net (Malone, N.)

Organization: Management Resources

To: Merry Rose <atlantia at atlantia.sca.org>

 

This one hasn't become an Urban Legend Yet but It should. In 1989 a

friend and fellow scadian was working temporarily in Miami. he was thew

store manager for several fastfood restaurants that were opening in the

region. Each day he escorted the Bank deposit to be tallied by the

bank's bookkeepers. I was visiting and road along as he made rounds one

day. Several of the store and the Branch the final deposit was made at

were in VERY bad neighborhoods. As we often worked security type jobs I

knew he had a carry permit. But, his light shirt made it obvious that he

did not have a gun. He made the pickups from the drive-thru's but had to

exit the car to get into the bank ( about 60 yds). When he got out, he

drug a huge very fantasy type Axe out of the back floor. Well I had to

ask, so he replied, "Everybody has a gun around here, Nobody is afraid

of guns in this neighborhood. they expect you to have a gun and just

bring more. But you got to be a f------ nutcase to carry an axe, and

people are really scarred of crazies!" No Shit There I Was!

 

AshaHito

 

 

Subject: Chivalry and Courtly Behavior

Date: Thu, 18 Feb 1999 22:50:32 EST

From: SCAEtain at aol.com

To: atlantia at atlantia.sca.org

 

There was this guy I know who was attending his first-ever Pennsic as an

archer. He was new to the SCA and had only been shooting for a couple of

months. He wasn't really that good, but he was pretty enthusiastic about it

and had managed to get included in the Baroness' Guard for his home Barony.

The only thing this meant was that he was going to go shoot at the same time

as the other members of the Guard, with the many of the rest of the Barony

looking on for support.

 

When the Guard arrived at the Clout shoot, this guy suddenly stopped and asked

one of the ladies there if he could borrow a pen.  He then pulled six arrows

from his quiver and proceeded to mark them up.  When asked what he was doing,

he explained that it occurred to him that there were six ladies who were

providing him his inspiration that day -- his Queen, the Crown Princess, a

territorial Princess, his Baroness, his lady at home who could not come to

war, and a lady from his Barony who had given him her favor when no other Lord

had offered to bear it to the field for her.  He was going to shoot an arrow

for each lady, and had marked them with their initials so he could keep them

straight later.

 

The Guard approached the line, and the arrows were loosed.  As he shot each of

his arrows, he spoke aloud the name of the lady that particular arrow belonged

to. Those who were looking on thought it was a little corny, but still kinda

touching. When they were done shooting, the range was closed as the marshals

took to the field to tally the scores.  The archers were then released to

retrieve their arrows.

 

Word came down the hill to the Barony that he had shot a six!  And back up the

hill went a great cheer!  A lord who was present was also member of the King's

household. He insisted that this guy present the arrows to each lady for whom

he had shot, and made arrangements for audiences with each of the Royals.

Rumor has it that when he presented an arrow to one of the Princesses, she

was so taken by his simple act of chivalry that she wept.

 

Etain ingen Thadgain (of Dun Carraig and Lochmere)

(that's AY-den)

 

 

Date: Sun, 14 Feb 1999 09:14:41 -0500

From: James Gilly / Alasdair mac Iain <alasdair.maciain at snet.net>

Subject: SC - OT - [fwd]  Re: True SCA Story

 

Off topic, but amusing.  Forwarded from the Merry Rose - part of a thread

which started with the story of Duke Vissevald's pugil-stick exploits in

the Army.

 

>From: Erikawful at aol.com

>Date: Sat, 13 Feb 1999 08:41:28 EST

>To: atlantia at atlantia.sca.org

>Subject: Re: True SCA Story

 

magnusm at ncsu.edu writes:

> > 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.  One 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

>From the book "Pool Cues, Beer Bottles, and Baseball Bats, a manual of

>expedient weapons", by Marc ("Animal") MacYoung:

>In one section of the book he describes various stances you might see in an

>opponent during a fight - watch out for kendo jocks, fencers, etc. Then comes

>a sketch of something looking vaguely Oldcastle-ish, described as "the SCA

>stance". Quoting as best I recall,

>"Remember those medieval types I mentioned in an earlier chapter? If you see

>this stance, DON'T GO NEAR THE GUY. It's goofy-looking, but if you get in

>range, you'll get your ass blasted across the county line. Problem is, you

>don't know WHICH county line it'll be. They can hit you from any direction..."

>He also suggests looking the SCA up for training in full-contact sword and

>polearm.

>Erich

 

Laird Alasdair mac Iain of Elderslie

Dun an Leomhain Bhig

Canton of Dragon's Aerie [southeastern CT]

Barony Beyond the Mountain  [northern & southeastern CT]

East Kingdom

 

 

Subject: Chivalry and Courtly Behavior

Date: Thu, 18 Feb 1999 22:50:32 EST

From: SCAEtain at aol.com

To: atlantia at atlantia.sca.org

 

There was this guy I know who was attending his first-ever Pennsic as an

archer. He was new to the SCA and had only been shooting for a couple of

months. He wasn't really that good, but he was pretty enthusiastic about it

and had managed to get included in the Baroness' Guard for his home Barony.

The only thing this meant was that he was going to go shoot at the same time

as the other members of the Guard, with the many of the rest of the Barony

looking on for support.

 

When the Guard arrived at the Clout shoot, this guy suddenly stopped and asked

one of the ladies there if he could borrow a pen.  He then pulled six arrows

from his quiver and proceeded to mark them up.  When asked what he was doing,

he explained that it occurred to him that there were six ladies who were

providing him his inspiration that day -- his Queen, the Crown Princess, a

territorial Princess, his Baroness, his lady at home who could not come to

war, and a lady from his Barony who had given him her favor when no other Lord

had offered to bear it to the field for her.  He was going to shoot an arrow

for each lady, and had marked them with their initials so he could keep them

straight later.

 

The Guard approached the line, and the arrows were loosed.  As he shot each of

his arrows, he spoke aloud the name of the lady that particular arrow belonged

to. Those who were looking on thought it was a little corny, but still kinda

touching. When they were done shooting, the range was closed as the marshals

took to the field to tally the scores.  The archers were then released to

retrieve their arrows.

 

Word came down the hill to the Barony that he had shot a six!  And back up the

hill went a great cheer!  A lord who was present was also member of the King's

household. He insisted that this guy present the arrows to each lady for whom

he had shot, and made arrangements for audiences with each of the Royals.

Rumor has it that when he presented an arrow to one of the Princesses, she was

so taken by his simple act of chivalry that she wept.

 

Etain ingen Thadgain (of Dun Carraig and Lochmere)

(that's AY-den)

 

 

Date: Fri, 07 May 1999 13:16:19 -0500

From: a14h at zebra.net (William Seibert)

Subject: SC - OT & OOP, ha!!

 

This once occurred at a past multi-day event.  A person, rather

famed for his ability to prepare sumptuous feasts, had agreed to

prepare a farewell feast for his household and their guests.  The

feast in question was to occur on the next to last day of the

event. You know, the day before the pack-the-hell-up-and-get-out

day. Anyway, the night before, said famous cook had been

imbibing rather to extreme, and as a result, was still sleeping

when those fortunate gentles who had "volunteered" to assist

showed up.  First fortunate gentle went into cook's tent to

awaken him.  "Nudge, nudge", and the somnolent cook took a swing

at the not-so-fortunate gentle with a cleaver, narrowly missing

taking off his head.  Famous cook didn't even wake up.  I guess

maybe he was pretty fortunate at that.  Volunteers went into a

huddle, and ended up begging a passing Duke to awaken the cook.

Duke armored up in full plate, went into the tent and came out

with huge gouges in his plate.  "No way am I waking that guy up"

was his comment.  Another huddle, and an impromptu drum circle

was formed, to no avail.  But the drum circle did awaken the

cook's mother, who wanted to know what was going on at this

un-godly hour of the morning.  The facts of the situation were

carefully, tearfully explained to her, and she went into her

son's tent.  A few minutes later, out came previously mentioned

famous cook, with no adverse consequences to his mother.  Thus

proving, "you can't nudge a cook like his mother."

 

(names withheld to protect the insolent, namely me)

wajdi

 

 

Date: Thu, 8 Jul 1999 12:16:16 -0700 (PDT)

From: Laura C Minnick <lainie at gladstone.uoregon.edu>

Subject: Re: SC - Verjuice

 

On Thu, 8 Jul 1999 LrdRas at aol.com wrote:

> lainie at gladstone.uoregon.edu writes:

> << The funny thing is the Nutrition

> Information on the side- the numbers are based on an 8 oz portion. Linda

> remarked that she doesn't know anyone who would willingly drink a glass of

> the stuff...

 

> Why? Sounds like a story....:-)

 

Not really. Just the idea of drinking it like regular juice, or like I put

away juice (ALOT!) makes me shudder.

 

Does remind me of a story though- several years ago (7?8?) at a Ducal War,

Duke James Greyhelm showed up with an army, rather upsetting the planned

kettle of D.Gunnar vs. D. Tjorkill. As there had been jokes in the copy

about eating rattan, James brought a small jar of pickled rattan shoots-

not bamboo, rattan. But James had to leave before final court, so one of

the knights fighting with him, Sir Paul of Somerton, got to present the

jar to Gunnar and Tjorkill. They were (understandably) wary and suggested

that he eat some first. Being game and on the spot, he pulled one out and

popped it in his mouth, smiled wide and said "Yummy!" (He said later it

tasted like...pickled rattan. Vile.) He passed the jar to Tjorkill, who

grabbled one, chomped, and fixed Paul with a "you sonofa..." before

turning to the crowd and Gunnar with a grin and a "Hey! This is really

good!" (born actor). So Gunnar pulls a piece out, sticks it in his mouth,

gets the 'I've been had' look on his face, yells "Puwah!" and spits it

out. The crowd loved it and Paul and Tjorkill had a good laugh. Too bad

James missed it. But then, they would've just had to kill him...

 

Why is it the 'old days' are best when they're gone?...

 

'Lainie

- -

Laura C. Minnick

 

 

From: "Tom Pilcher" <jamesllewellyn at home.com>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: SCA Urban Myths

Date: Mon, 03 Jan 2000 07:06:02 GMT

 

A few years ago we had an incident in the Port of Crickstow-on-sea (then

Laighe na greine) in the Shire (now Barony) of Seagirt (gee there's a legend

in itself)  at an event that was labelled "Come as your favourite Hero or

Heroine (not little white bags) from History, Real or Fictional." Four of us

dressed up as the 3 1/3 Musketeers in very nice outfits patterned after the

Keefer Sutherland version.

 

Sometime during the evening the alarm went off in the closed convenience

store across the street.

 

I was on gate and grabbed my cell phone and the other 3 musketeers and we

responded, all carrying quarterstaves, dialing 911 as we ran. The

perpetrator was long gone but we secured the area and waited for the Police

to arrive. The look on their face when they arrived was awesome. It took

them a long time to get out of their car for here in front of a store with

an alarm wailing are 4 musketeers with staves watching in all directions.

Apparently witnesses testified to seeing the perpertrator running like a

scared rabbit as d'Artagnan and his bunch ran across the highway.

--

HL Sgt James Llewellyn ap Gruffydd

jamesllewellyn at home.com

 

 

Subject: Re: [SCA-West] Dare To have a Good Story

Date: Thu, 21 Sep 2000 07:25:30 PDT

From: "Margarette Rose" <lostrose10 at hotmail.com>

To: sca-west at rogues.net

 

My Lord,

I shall take your challenge, but if grace should shine, not the prize (I hate fish).

 

I have many stories which are funny and heart warming, some which there will be a few, who will not "agree" with, but at the time and in this place, no one thought it wrong.....

 

Make-a-Wish

(A day of Magic)

 

Long ago in a kingdom on the West Coast, there was a small tourney.  This tourney was the first "Make-a-wish" tourney that I ever attended. The foundation had brought a, small eight year old boy in a wheel chair, to the event.  It was his "hearts desire" that he should be "King for a Day." As with all who qualify for this foundation, he was dying. He had cancer of the brain and the doctors had given him, 2-3 months more to live.  He was wheelchair bound, and on medication, but much more alert than most expected. His cute brown hair and big eyes seemed to eat up everything he saw!

 

The day was beautiful, not overly hot, and the skies were clear.  The  populace had crafted a crown, a scepter, and a cloak for "His Majesty".  As we stood and bowed as he was brought down the center isle for opening court, the wind picked up and sent the banners snapping in the breeze. Two knights, attended His Majesty, as well as his Mother, who walked behind.  Her eyes were misty as she watched total strangers giving her son his dying wish.

 

During opening court, the combatants for the day came forward and pledged  their fights to His Majesty's honor. Without prompting, He smiled, thanked  them, and wished them well.  He was so grown up in his manners and speech.   Everyone's heart caught in their throats.

 

Towards the end of the day, "His Majesties" attendants requested an audience with the Knights council and the King (ours).  At the council meeting, one of the knights requested, that as this small child had through out the day shown bravery, honor, chivalry, and courtesy, he should be knighted, by our King for real.  This knight offered his own belt for the lad, another came forward and offered his chain, still another offered his spurs and finally the last knight who came forward offered his "dagger" to serve as a sword for the new knight.  There was one of the older knights who objected, saying that "they couldn't possibly knight this boy, who first was not a member of the society and who secondly wasn't even a fighter!"  But as Our King pointed out, the child was dying and wouldn't live to gown up to be a fighter, but that he had been fighting this disease all of his life and had been able to be courteous through it all!  The older knight, sat down.  Also the King continued, saying, that he himself, had also watched the lad and indeed he could attest to his bravery, for he never should any discomfort, to anyone.

 

At closing court His Majesty was knighted!  Those attending court cried, those knights who gave up their own items cried and the day ended.

 

But this is not the end of the story.  Nine or ten months later, his Mother came to an event.  She wanted first to "thank us.", for making her sons last days so happy and to let us know that the doctors had credited the Society and its actions with prolonging the childs life. She also said that when things got really bad, he never cried, because, he said, "Real, knights had to be brave and since he was a real knight now, he had to be brave too."  Also she wanted us to know that, he died with his belt, chain, and spurs on, holding his sword.  She had buried him with the sword, belt and chain, but wanted to return the spurs to the Knight who had donated them.  The knight in question, rose, and knelt before this lady, "It was an honor, My Lady, to count your son, as one of us." He told her. "Your son has taught us all the true meaning of bravery.  Please keep the spurs as a remembrance of him and the honor he did us all."

 

Many years have come and gone since this Make-a-wish tourney, but I still remember the generosity of the SCA and its ability to touch the every day

world.

 

I hope this qualifies for a positive story.  It has certainly touched my

life and inspired me. I hope it does you too.

 

Mags

 

 

From: Heather Rose Jones <hrjones at socrates.berkeley.edu>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: YKYITSCA

Date: Tue, 21 Nov 2000 18:07:40 -0800

Organization: University of California at Berkeley

 

Anephedros wrote:

> one day, in a local grocery store, i passed a russian orthodoxed priest in

> full kit; my first thought was "wow, cool garb", and then i bowed. d'oh.

 

I was driving back from a war once and stopped at a fast-food joint and

found myself next to a couple of Russian Orthodox types in line and had

the same sort of reaction -- "Oh, they must be coming home from the war

too ... oh!"  And then I thought I must have been staring rudely,

because one of them turned to talk to me.

 

He indicated my "UC Berkeley Celtic Studies" t-shirt and said, "I wonder

if you could answer a question about Celtic names ..."

 

Some things you just _never_ get away from!

 

Tangwystyl

 

 

Date: Sun, 24 Dec 2000 16:15:25 -0700

To: stefan at florilegium.org

From: Milly <millymcc at primenet.com>

Subject: submission

 

Unto The Honorable Lord Stefan come good greetings from Mistress Catriona.

 

I would like to submit for your consideration an article written by Duke

Sir Arthur of Lockehaven. I would bet my life on its accuracy...knowing

Arthur and finding him not one to exaggerate...well not much anyway! No,

seriously he is one to tell it like it was.

 

He wrote the following and published it on our local Aten list so it comes

directly from him.

 

Back about 1970 (when Atenveldt was in its cradle - and I still had some

hair on my head) many of us were students at ASU (Arizona State Univ.). We

were scheduled to put on a fighting demo (hopefully to get some new members

into the principality- not a Kingdom yet) on the ASU campus.

 

We showed up and started unloading helmets, shields, swords, armor etc.

from our vehicles. (Now, you have to remember this is 1970 - Vietnam War,

student demonstrations, in some parts of the country people were burning

down buildings on their college campus etc.)

 

Pretty quick a rather large uniformed ASU security guy came up to us asking

"just what we though we were doing". Unfortunately, the first reply any of

us had for him was, "We're here for a demonstration!"

 

His immediate reply was, "They ain't gonna be NO demonstrations on MY campus!"

 

It took a few minutes, but I eventually explained to him that we just

'smacked each other with sticks' and the demonstration had no real

political purpose or agenda. . . then he said it was ok and that we could

have our demonstration!

 

It was almost as good a story as when we organized a "war" down in the Salt

River Bed, near the Tempe bridge, roughly the same time period. These wars

were "a little" smaller than Pennsic or Estrella - (Oh well, there were

only about 30 of us) - we were running around in armor, war arrows flying,

etc. (I think that Master Ivan (du Grae) and I even tried renting horses

and getting them to let us fight on their back - they wouldn't - the horses

were smarter than either of us that day).

 

. . . soon the Tempe police show up (why we didn't anticipate this I don't

know) the nice police officer comes up and asks what we're doing . . .

 

We simply told him "we're having a war!"

 

He took a looooong look at us, and what we were doing, and said, "Well, I

guess you don't need a permit to have a war!" and told us to have a good

day, and drove off.

 

Ah, the good old days!

Arthur of Lockehaven    (my words - Duke Sir Arthur of Lockhaven)

 

 

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

From: djheydt at kithrup.com (Dorothy J Heydt)

Subject: Re: SCA Tales: The Day the Honeywagon Caught Fire

Organization: Kithrup Enterprises, Ltd.

Date: Fri, 25 May 2001 14:23:47 GMT

 

This happened at the 25th-year anniversary Beltane in the West

Kingdom, a ten-day camping event in the Sierra foothills.  The

incident actually involved an empty gas tank in the privy-pumping

truck, an empty gas line to the auxiliary tank, a carburetor with

nothing but fumes to run on, a cupful of gasoline, a lighted

cigarette, a bucket of privy-cleaning solution and a fire

extinguisher wielded by the Kingdom Constable, Balin the Hunter;

but I retrofitted the technology for SCA purposes.

 

          The Day the Honeywagon Caught Fire

          (Tune: The Bastard King of England)

 

'T was on a lovely afternoon, it was the third of May,

The honeywagon came to town to haul the slops away.

A worthy deed, a noble act; we felt no fear of ill,

Until the wagon foundered at the bottom of the hill.

 

       Chorus:

       There's people running along the road:

       The dear Lord send it don't explode!

       Help!  Help!  The honeywagon's burning!

 

Now the driver of this wagon was a simple sort of lad:

The job don't take a lot of brains, and that was what he had.

The master'd thought it fitting to entrust a brawny fool

With the wagon, and the load it bore, and also with the mule.

 

The mule had missed his dinner, and he wouldn't stir a pace

Till the driver got his nosebag out and hung it from his face.

So quickly and so eagerly the mule chowed down his grain,

That he got a fearful belly-ache, and foundered once again.

 

The fool piped up, "No problem, I know how to make him start:

I'll hit him in the belly, which will quickly make him fart,

And then he'll feel much better!" and he reached up underneath,

Forgetting that his smoking pipe was clenched between his teeth.

 

Now men of wisdom tell us there are gases that will burn,

And some of these were gushing from the poor old critter's stern.

What happened when the gases met the glowing pipe was dire,

For tail, and reins, and harness, and the wagon-tree caught fire.

 

Now Asher, who was watching, and who told me all this tale,

Though a mighty man and valiant, felt his heart begin to quail.

"O Mithras, Zeus, or Jesus," so he prayed as off he ran,

"Just make that wagon not explode, and I promise I'm your man!"

 

The fool picked up a tankard from a table standing by,

And threw it on the wagon, where the flames were rising high.

To put it out, he thought, a pint of beer would do just fine--

But God forgive him, what he thought was beer was brandywine.

 

Our folk stepped back in terror, for the danger was not small:

That wagon, if it went, would make mud puppies of them all.

When all was dark and smoky as the pit of hell's latrine,

Then valiant MASTER BALIN HUNTER came upon the scene!

 

The Constables, by Balin trained, keep water pails on hand;

And Balin threw them lavishly on every burning brand.

The fire went out and sputtered, in clouds of water cool,

And a sigh went up from every man, and likewise from the mule.

 

So they cleaned up all the water, and the harness they did mend,

And applied a soothing lotion to the mule's afflicted end.

Then pail in hand our Balin walked the wagon up and down

Till, every privy empty, he saw it out of town.

 

Now the danger's been averted, and the privies they are clean,

All thanks to Master Balin, who was handy on the scene.

We're singing praise to Balin that the wagon did not burn,

And Asher's raising grateful prayers To Whom It May Concern.

 

       There's people running along the road:

       The dear Lord send it don't explode!

       Help!  Help!  The honeywagon's burning!

 

Dorothea of Caer-Myrddin                         Dorothy J. Heydt

Mists/Mists/West                               Albany, California

PRO DEO ET REGE                               djheydt at kithrup.com

                http://www.kithrup.com/~djheydt

 

 

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

From: whheydt at kithrup.com (Wilson Heydt)

Subject: Re: Period Hairdressings?

Organization: Kithrup Enterprises, Ltd.

Date: Thu, 7 Jun 2001 20:38:03 GMT

 

ruadh <ruadh at home.com> wrote:

>Yes everyone has a cleaning and rinsing advice, but not forget that there is

>more to life with long hair. Like hair control, as it gets longer and trying

>to sleep with it in your face; and appearances in the mundane world. And

>Ladies lets remember that a Guy asked the 'lead' to this subject. so, how to

>fit the ponytail in a helm is also in order.  Ru, a Scots Man who saved that

>"Blue Ribbon" from his youthful days, and now it's better used it to tie

>back his greying hair.

 

One is reminded of the (possibly apochryphal) tale of the new

fighter at a war, who--after getting killed time after time--spotted

another fighter of a bit smaller than average stature and light

build, with a ponytail hanging out below the camail thought, "Aha!  A

woman fighter!  I can kill her!"  he tapped the fighter on the

shoulder (from behind) and was very surprised when Duke Sir James

Greyhelm turned around and one-shotted him...

--

       Hal Ravn                                Hal Heydt

       Mists, Mists, West                      Albany, CA

 

 

From: karen moon [karenmoon at msn.com]

Sent: Monday, April 22, 2002 10:29 PM

To: ansteorra at ansteorra.org

Subject: Re: [Ansteorra] Stirring the bunnies....

 

OK, here's the "stirring the bunnies" story.....

 

A long time ago, in a barony right down the road, way back when the glorious Kingdom of Ansteorra was a hazy smear upon a map, and known as the Region of Ansteorra, there dwelt in the (brand new) Barony of Bjornsborg a cluster of Interesting People in adjoining apartments (which had once been separate rooms in the same stately home).  And in and among this cluster of college apartments was held the very first King's College of Ansteorra -- masterminded by soon-to-be Mistress Clare St. John, who lived one house over, one floor down. And while attending a class in the apartment of a fellow named Red Orm Skjoldbidig, who did some Odd Things even by today's standards, I beheld for the first and only time a dented bucket of .... well, I didn't know what it was, but it looked sludgy.  It was propping open an interior door -- which I must assume was never closed.  Above it hung a carefully lettered sign which read "Do NOT Stir the Bunnies".  Since this was my very first event, I just tallied it up as one of the many odd and remarkable things to be seen. I do recall that during the class someone accidentally bumped the door, causing a number of people to recoil in horror and cry out "Watch the bucket!!!!" but fortunately, tho the hideous contents shuddered, there was no spill.  Someone intoned "Thank God!  It didn't break the seal." And then class resumed.

 

It was some months before I learned the truth of the matter.  Red Orm had somehow procured some dead rabbits and decided to experiment with tanning.  Said bunnies were skinned and the skins submerged in a tanning solution, and it wasn't long before everyone in the building began to realize why tanneries are usually sequestered to the very edges of town.  According to my sources, the stench was unholy.  Stirring made it worse.  Much, much worse.  The bucket was duly Banished from the apartment.  Alas, movement of any sort activated the stench.  Apparently, the bucket of now-dissolving bunny skins made it to the middle of the apartment and No Further.  It was placed in an area out of the main traffic -- propping up that interior door -- and Detente, of a sort, was reached.  The bucket of bunnies remained, with its sign to alert the unwary.

 

The memory of the Stench and its warning sign long survived the bucket itself, and the phrase "stirring the bunnies" came to mean words or actions which incited that which was better left un-incited, i.e. "to set the cat amongst the pigeons" or to otherwise Raise a Stink.  One finds its usage in such phrases as "oh great, she's stirring the bunnies again!" or "well, you've got the bunnies stirred up now!" , and has even inspired the descriptive noun "bunny-stirrer", as in "yep, he's a bunny-stirrer."

 

This is the tale as I both witnessed and learned it.  I hope everyone is sufficiently enlightened.

 

Mari

 

 

Date: Tue, 16 Sep 2003 18:15:58 -0500

From: "David J. Hughes" <""davidjhughes.tx\" at netzero.delete this.net>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Pennsic I Legend

 

Subataii wrote:

> I seem to remember (if you can call it that):

>

> Something about one king calling the other king late in the night and

> interrupting the royal conjugals...war was declared as a result (although it

> was a tongue-in-cheek declaration).

>

> That it was held at the present site (Cooper's).

>

> And if it matters, the outcome was to determine the possession of the BMDL...it

> going to the loser (either Midrealm or the East), according to an old joke.

>

> And I'm entirely ready to be told that I'm wrong! :-)

 

IIRC, as I heard the story, that was a different war, recorded in my

memory as the Sleep War.

 

One Majesty failed to consider time zone differences before calling.

 

A few month later, at an event both were present at, the called chose

to comment on the incident in court.

When the caller apologized for disturbing their Majesties sleep, the

Queen dryly commented "We weren't sleeping" to the great embarrassment

of the calling Majesty.

Things might have ended there, had some (half)wit in the room not

queried "Well, what does 5 minutes one way or the other matter?"

 

Warfare ensued.

 

David Gallowglass

 

 

Date: Wed, 21 Jan 2004 09:24:42 -0800

From: "Laura C. Minnick" <lcm at efn.org>

Subject: Re: [Sca-cooks] The beer is safe!!!

To: Cooks within the SCA <sca-cooks at ansteorra.org>

 

Something like 12 years ago, on the way to July Coronation, a van failed to

make the last tight curve into the site, within sight of the gate, and

overturned. Help arrived to find one of the van's occupants yelling "The

mead! the mead!"

 

All of the people were ok, and after some digging, the mead was found

intact. Gotta keep your priorities, all it!

 

'Lainie

 

 

From: "Megan & Dave" <danhorn3 at cogeco.ca.remove>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: SCA meets the Darwins

Date: Mon, 22 Mar 2004 19:45:52 -0500

 

http://www.darwinawards.com/slush/pending20040318-130559.html

 

Medieval fire torture

 

2004 Reader Submission

 

Pending Acceptance

 

I'm happy to report that this story will only qualify for an honorable

mention, since the subject is a good friend of mine. To avoid embarassing

him, I'll call him Adam.

 

It was a warm spring night in Bowling Green, Ky., and the SCA was in town.

That's the Society for Creative Anachronism, the medieval-life reenactment

group. They were having a weekend event at Beech Bend Park, nestled in a

woody curve of the Barren River.

 

Two of my friends were heavily into the SCA, and had pitched their tents

with the other sword-wielding and baggy-pants-wearing celebrants. They

invited me and my friend Adam to join them for one evening's campout. Since

both were lovely blondes (as well as charming friends), we readily agreed.

They provided us with "garb," faux-medieval clothes that would enable us to

blend into the crowd. A tabard and baggy pants were enough for me, but Adam

wanted something more.

 

Every SCAdian, as they are known, practices some sort of skill, whether

cooking or singing or some craft, or just energetically whacking each other

with duct-tape-covered fake swords. Adam wanted to go all the way. He can

juggle, which was a start, but still not quite enough. He wanted to be

impressive. He decided to breathe fire.

 

Adam had seen this stunt performed before, with pure grain alcohol. But he'd

never done it, and being under 21 at the time, couldn't buy pga himself.

He wanted me to buy it for him, and I was willing; but I didn't get off from

my waiter's job until after 11 p.m., which is when liquor stores close in

our town. And he hadn't thought ahead to ask me the day before the event.

So, still determined to blaze with glory, he went looking for a substitute.

Let's see ... what flammable liquids can an incautious young man buy in a

Kentucky Wal-mart at 11:30 at night? There were several choices, none good.

But Adam settled on Coleman stove fuel.

 

It was clear, didn't smell that strong, and he could pour it into an empty

wine bottle for "period" accuracy. I wasn't sure about this, but Adam

decided it was close enough.

 

Once at the event - called "Border Raids" - I stood talking to one friend

while Adam said, "C'mere, I've got something to show you," and led the other

behind a large cloth tent. About 20 feet away stood half a dozen guys in

chain mail armor, warming themselves around a fire. They could see him

directly, but I couldn't.

 

Seconds later, a deep "WHOOOM!" burst from behind the tent, accompanied by a

gout of orange flame. "Whoa!" cried all the guys around the campfire,

turning to applaud. But their applause died, as even through a double layer

of tent fabric I could see this ... afterglow.

 

"Holy shit! He's on fire!" the mail-clad men yelled, and ran over to pound

out the flames wreathing Adam's head.

 

What he hadn't realized was that stove fuel gave off fumes very unlike pga.

As he swigged the fuel, some of it trickled down his chin - fortunately,

he'd shaved off his goatee the day before. As it was, fumes wreathed his

head and spread down his throat. In the ensuing conflagration, he managed to

burn the hair off the BACK of his head, while hardly touching that on top.

His eyebrows, however, were scorched too. Rivulets of flame ran down his

neck, and he suffered chemical burns in his throat.

 

Adam was still standing, and at first didn't think he was seriously hurt.

But the burns started to sting in a few minutes, and I led him to the

chirurgeon's tent. They quickly saw that neither medieval technology nor

modern first aid would suffice, and I drove Adam to the hospital.

He stayed there several days and became quite an object of interest on that

floor. The burns on his neck healed without serious scarring, his hair

regrew, and the octave he lost off his voice came back in about six months.

Perhaps five years later I went to another Border Raids gathering in

different city, accompanying the same female friends but sans Adam. It had

been a long and entertaining day, and was concluding with an energetic

belly-dancing demonstration around a bonfire, accompanied by throbbing

drums. I turned to the stranger standing next to me and commented on how

exciting the event was.

 

"Aw, this is nothin', man," he replied. "If you think this is exciting, you

shoulda' been here about five years ago. This crazy dude set his head on

fire!"

 

Submitted on 03/18/2004

 

Submitted by: Jim G

Reference: Personal account, Spring 1992

Copyright © 2004 DarwinAwards.com

 

 

From: Heather Murray <margaretnorthwode at worldnet.att.net>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: SCA meets the Darwins

Date: Tue, 23 Mar 2004 05:08:45 GMT

 

<snip>

> "Aw, this is nothin', man," he replied. "If you think this is exciting, you

> shoulda' been here about five years ago. This crazy dude set his head on

> fire!"

> Submitted on 03/18/2004

>

> Submitted by: Jim G

> Reference: Personal account, Spring 1992

> Copyright © 2004 DarwinAwards.com

 

To *almost*, but not quite match that, a gentle *I* know did something

similar at Gulf Wars a few years back. A bit tipsy (mistake #1), amd

doing a couple of different exercises, he mixed his fuels (mistake #2),

and got a pretty bad case of blowback, I believe it's called. His face

afire, he instinctively ran forward the two or three steps to the point

where his girlfriend - with sopping towel and bucket of water - *should*

have been. She was ... not there, having backpedaled away from him in

fright. He was finally put out by onlookers, and ended up spending a

very few weeks in a burn ward with third degree burns with a lick of

flame having gotten down his throat as well. And he got very good drugs,

that were still not *quite* enough to do anything but blunt the pain for

a while.

 

We got his stuff back to his home - luckily only in New Orleans, a

couple of hours away, as opposed to home for *us* which was 12 hours'

drive away.

 

The next year, he was unattatched. He also, I *think*, refrained from

firebreathing exercises. In a stroke of luck he is largely unscarred

(near-babyfaced, actually - he still can pass of as a college student).

Luck, my friends, pure luck. And an unfunny situation.

 

Margaret

 

 

Date: Wed, 31 Mar 2004 21:53:25 EST

From: CorwynWdwd at aol.com

Subject: Re: [Sca-cooks] Arms, and food applications

To: sca-cooks at ansteorra.org

 

selene at earthlink.net writes:

>>> 

On 3/31/04 3:35 PM, "Carper, Rachel" <rachel.carper at hp.com> wrote:

> LOL. Don't worry about it. At my second or third event, MidWinter Ball I

> plopped myself down next to this nice lady who seemed to be sitting all

> alone and struck up a conversation about her beautifully painted dress.

> It was a lovely conversation until I noticed one of my friends waving at

> me frantically. I got up to go speak to her only to find out I'd been

> interrogating Her Majesty.

> Can you say Oops? I knew you could.

> Elewyiss

> Who has *still more* embarrassing royal stories.

 

That is not embarrassing, that is SWEET!

And all the more so because you were certainly NOT doing it to "kiss up to

the Queen" at all.  All it means is that you are a nice person.

So there.  Nyaah.

<<< 

 

Trust me, it's always appreciated by real folk <G>. As a Landed Baron, I

found myself talking to a newbie, and the young man was full of  questions. I

wasn't wearing the coronet or anything, and he asked me, somewhat nervously about the Royalty. I told him that the only Royalty onsite was the Local  

Baronage... but watch out for the Baron, as he was an ill-tempered fat guy who had a nasty sense of humor<EG>.

 

About that time one of the local teenaged Ladies came by, and I asked her to

confirm my observations, and to her credit she nodded solemnly, then hugged me

and said "But we LOVE him!!"

 

His look of dawning realization was priceless.

 

Corwyn

 

 

Date: Fri, 16 Apr 2004 09:17:55 -0700 (PDT)

From: Huette von Ahrens <ahrenshav at yahoo.com>

Subject: RE: [Sca-cooks] Pastry cases - baking blind?

To: Cooks within the SCA <sca-cooks at ansterra.org>

 

>> -----Original Message-----

>> IIRC, Master Martino uses a covered pie shell filled with flour as the

>> first step in preparig live blackbirds in a pie.  The bottom is cut

>> out, the flour removed, the blackbirds inserted and then the pie shell

>> is placed over a second pie.  You get the effect of the birds flying out

>> of the pie and still are able to serve from the shell.

>> 

>> Bear

 

Here is a true story about blackbird pie:

 

Long ago, back in the days when Conrad von

Regensburg was Baron of Lyondemere, there used to

be a canton in the heart of the Barony of the

Angels called Greywinds, in an area mythically

called Hollywood.  The people of this canton were

very nice, creative people and everyone who knew

them enjoyed their company.

 

When it came time to celebrate the anniversary of

the forming of their canton, the Seneschal, Lady

Luxandra of Altumbria, called her people into

council and asked them, "We must needs celebrate

our anniversary with a splendid tournament. But

where can such an event be held? Most of our

local parks are either the size of a miser's

heart or else in dangerous territory where even

Angels fear to tread. Oh, what can we do?"

 

And so did the people of the canton go out and

search their land for a park large enough to hold

a tournament and safe enough to attract people

from other areas to attend their celebration.

After much searching and seeking they did find a

perfect park to hold their anniversary, called

Roxbury Park in the hills of Beverly. However, it

lay outside their land, on the border between the

Barony of the Angels and the Barony of

Lyondemere.

 

Before they announced their plans to the Known

World, they sought the counsel of their baron,

Damon of the Lake that Flames, who assured them

that the park was within his territory and that

all their plans were acceptable to him.

Unfortunately, one month before their anniversary

was to be held, Lyondemere did invade Angels

territory and did claim that park as their

territory, holding a tournament there as proof of

their claim.

 

The autocrat of the anniversary cried upon

hearing this news, "Oh what shall we do now? Our

announcement has already been printed in the

Crown Prints and there will not be another

published until after our event. Oh what shall we

do?" "Fear not", said their seneschal, "we are

just a small canton with no fighters to speak of.

They will not notice if we hold our tournament

there."

 

And so they went forward with their plans.  The

day of the event dawned beautifully. The sun

reigned warmly in the azure Caidan skies. As the

people of Greywinds went about their business,

setting up their event, several messages were

sent to the autocrat. The first being that the

King and Queen were ill and were unable to

attend. The second being that the Baron's wain

had broken and that they would be late, but to

start the event without them.  So, at the

appointed time, did Greywinds begin their

tournament, with the Seneschal, Lady Luxandra

standing in proxy of the Baron.

 

After the Herald called the populace to attend

the words of the Seneschal, suddenly there came a

clamor from behind the crowd. The crowd parted as

a procession of Lyondemarines came forward, with

Baron Conrad in the lead. Looking sternly at the

good people of Greywinds, Baron Conrad was heard

to say, "You people are trespassing on my

territory. For this, you will pay! I give you

until Coronation Day next to send me your

tribute!" Upon saying that, did he stalk off with

his entourage in tow.

 

When Baron Damon arrived on site later that day,

Lady Luxandra did seek him out and informed him

of all that had occurred previously. "Do not

worry. I will take this before the King and he

will clear this matter up for us." Then a thought

came to Baron Damon. "Did Baron Conrad state what

kind of tribute that he wanted?" "No."  "Well,

then," said Damon, "you are free to pay whatever

you want to pay."

 

By the time Coronation Day had arrived, Baron

Damon had arranged with the Crescent Herald to do

business before the King. Approaching His

Majesty, Baron Damon brought out a map of Caid

and placed it before the King. "Your Majesty,"

asked Damon, "is not this a map of Your Kingdom

with all the Baronial borders drawn as You have

previously decreed?"

 

His Majesty looked at the map and agreed that it

was. "Would Your Majesty please have the Baron of

Lyondemere called forward?" His Majesty signaled

his Herald to do so.  After Conrad came forward

and did his courtesy to his King, did Damon ask,

"Was it not agreed previously that all lands west

of this road, numbered 405, were to belong to

Lyondemere and all lands east of this road were

to belong to Angels?" "Yes it was," said his

Majesty.

 

"Then on what side of this road would You say

Roxbury Park was?" "Why to the East," said his

Majesty, looking at Conrad. "What say you,

Conrad?" Conrad took the map in hand and turned

it this way and that. "Why your Majesty!" he

declared. "I have been reading this map

upside-down! My apologies to both of you!" His

Majesty looked at Conrad pointedly, "Do not do so

again."

 

Then, with His Majesty's permission, did Lady

Luxandra and the good people of Greywinds come

forward and address Conrad. "Your Excellency, you

asked for tribute and we are prepared to give it

to you in three parts. The first will be now. The

second before the banquet begins. The third

before the revel begins. The explanation will

come after that." With that she handed him six

shiny, new pennies.

 

Before the banquet began, she handed him a

bottle, sometimes called a hip-flask, filled

with a brown liquid that burned the throat.

 

Before the revel began, she gave him a pie that

made some very odd sounds, like

"Chiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrppp, chirp, chirp, chirp,

chirp! Chiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrppp, chirp, chirp,

chirp, chirp!"

 

Then did she and her people begin to sing: "Sing

a song of six pense. A pocket full of rye.

Four-and-twenty black birds baked in a pie."

Baron Conrad began to laugh and laugh. After he

regained his composure, he brought out his eating

dagger and said, "I just have to see these black

birds!" Chiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrppp, chirp, chirp,

chirp, chirp!"  Conrad thrust his dagger into the

pie. "Chiiiiiirr ...." and the pie went silent.

 

Conrad looked dismayed ad cried, "I think I

killed it!" Hastily, he tore open the pie and

discovered 23 black velvet, stuffed blackbirds

and one mechanically operated blackbird that had

been stabbed directly through the battery.

 

It was quite a while before he regained his

composure again.

 

This is as I saw it and proves that if you want

to ask for tribute, you should specify what you

want, or be prepared to take what is given.

 

Huette

 

 

From: Chris Zakes <moondrgn at austin.rr.com>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: YKYITSCAW

Date: Fri, 21 May 2004 01:43:55 GMT

 

On Thu, 20 May 2004 06:08:07 GMT,  an orbital mind-control laser

caused "Mellissa Allison" <muddles at holycow.com> to write:

>...you sign your SCA name on your cheque and don't notice anything wrong.

>Elspeth

 

<chuckle> Back before I got married, I actually had a bank account

with both my legal and SCA names on the checks.

 

      -Tivar Moondragon

            Ansteorra

 

 

From: george basore <murray_kinsman at yahoo.com>

Date: Thu Jan 15, 2004  12:37:54 PM US/Central

To: ansteorra at ansteorra.org

Subject: [Ansteorra] SCA at sea with US Navy

 

Good gentles of ansteorra, much has been said of late

concerning SCA groups aboard US Naval ships,  so, I

decided to look into it.

 

According to what I have been told, by an Admiral

of my aquintance, the is an SCA group on USS Nimitz,

USS Kitty Hawk, and USS Abraham Lincoln.(all carriers)

 

The incident we hear about most often, that of the

Russians photographing fighter practice,happened

onboard the Nimitz.

 

Ship's Cap'n "Black" Robert Haddock, of the Incipient

Canton of Rivers Run, Barony of Weisenfeuer, Kingdom

of Ansteorra

 

 

From: Vicki Marsh <XaraXene at comcast.net>

Date: Mon Jan 19, 2004  9:50:51 PM US/Central

To: ansteorra at ansteorra.org

Subject: FW: [Ansteorra] SCA at sea with US Navy

 

Forwarded with permission and the confirmation that yes, Baron Valust was

also on board the Nimitz at the time.

 

Mistress Xene

 

Geoffrey sais:

   You certainly can forward it and yes Vallust was aboard with us.

 

-----Original Message-----

From: GulesBaron at aol.com [mailto:GulesBaron at aol.com]

Sent: Friday, January 16, 2004 7:49 PM

 

As is the case with many urban legends this story is only partly true.

I never served under a Captain Clexton and I was on board the Nimitz from

just after commisioning until about 1982 when I rotated to shore duty.

After I left, the SCA group disintegrated until the early 90s.  I know of

this revival only because I met a later seneschal/herald at Atlantia's 20

year celebration a couple of years ago.  However during that revival the

boat would no longer have been sailing to the Mediteranean because it was

now stationed on the west coast and remains there until this time (Except

for overhauls at Newport News Shipbuilding and Drydock).  If the story

happened during a Med cruise it had to be while I was aboard.

 

So let me tell you what really happened.

 

This was during our 1979-80 Mediteranean cruise.  The Captain was Jack

Batzler. We had just spent about 4 of our 6 months on a "Show the Flag"

cruise to the Mediteranean.  We call it a show the flag cruise because there

was no pressing reason to be there. No wars no terrorists, nothing.  All

that changed shortly after the Ayatollas take over of Iran.  I remember it

like yesterday.  It was just before Xmas as we were entering Naples Harbor.

I was waiting in sick bay for an appointment when Capn Jack came on the

general announcing system and told us that after the Xmas stand down we

would be leaving the Mediteranean to go to the Indian Ocean for an

indefinate period because the Iranians had stormed the American embassy and

taken hostage a large group of American citizens.

 

Less than 3 weeks later we were on Gonzo station in the Indian Ocean.  Bear

in mind that we did not use the Suez canal to get there and we spent over a

week in Naples before we left, so do the math. We were flying. It was a

nuclear powered ship after all and so were our escorts.

 

Currach Mor (Our first seneschal researched a gaelic name and assured us

that it does indeed mean big boat) spent the next 5 months on station in the

Indian Ocean. We did not pull into port once.  Our only real break was a

flight deck picnic where we were given the distinct priviledge to be served

the first alcoholic beverages on a ship since it was banned in the 1800s

(those two beers were ice cold and deeeeelicious)

 

Needless to say the boredom was tremendous.  Fortunately there was the SCA.

We regularly fought in the hanger bay at night and our numbers grew

(everyone was bored and we were having fun).  When we weren't flying we

fought on the flight deck and thats where the story comes from.  We were

having a well attended practice under the watchful eyes of a Soviet Krivak

Destroyer. All carriers had a soviet tattletale following them back in

those days.  They usually stay a good ways off but while we were fighting he

took a great interest in us and closed to less than a half mile.  That night

I was called aside by one of the intel guys who told me that we had

generated a lot of interest on that ship and some communications were passed

from the ship to (where ever?) speculating on the reasons for the unusual

training we were conducting.

 

And thats the real story.  No aircraft and we were not called to the flight

deck for the express purpose of confusing Soviets.  And I can say NSTIW.

 

 

From: Chris Zakes <moondrgn at earthlink.net>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: mythbustin' in the SCA

Date: Sat, 27 Nov 2004 00:19:53 GMT

 

On Mon, 22 Nov 2004 21:39:26 -0600,  an orbital mind-control laser

caused Drew <anicholson16 at comcast.net> to write:

 

>Ok, so a friend of mine and I are embarking on a new project: doin' a

>little bit of myth-busting in the SCA.  We'll take the oldest stories

>that people swear are true, and track down the people who were actually

>in the story, and see what's what!

>The classic example of this is how Cariadoc declared war on himself to

>create the first Pennsic.

>So, who has SCA myths that they'd like to see busted?  Send 'em on!

 

Back in my early days (around AS 10) there was a story that a group of

SCA folk were having a wedding at a medieval-style apartment complex's

rec room. Suddenly they heard screams for help from outside, and upon

invesitgation, saw a lady being dragged toward a car by several guys.

The immediate response was "A damsel in distress! To the rescue, to

the rescue!" and off they went. The guys in the car took one look at

this mob coming after them, dropped the woman and tried to escape.The

car ended up losing all windows, all four tires and had a pike

*through* the engine block before it was stopped and the miscreants

could be detained for the police.

 

There's also a story about an SCA-person en route to a revel, who

stopped at a convenience store, only to walk into the middle of a

robbery. When the police arrived, the culprit was reportedly on his

knees at swordpoint *praying* for the cops to rescue him from this

lunatic.

 

The following story is at least 90% true: Many years ago, during the

quarter-finals of a Queen's Champion touranment, my opponent struck me

in the face with sufficient force that my fencing mask was pushed back

against the bridge of my nose, causing a small, but spectacularly

bloody cut. A year or two later, for mundane business reasons, he

moved from Texas to Massachusetts. While he was attending an SCA event

on a visit back to Ansteorra, someone was overheard telling another

fellow "See that guy? That's Shamino; he *killed* a guy in a

tournament, and had to leave the kingdom." Needless to say, the

reports of my death were greatly exaggerated.

 

      -Tivar Moondragon

            Ansteorra

 

 

Date: Tue, 21 Sep 2004 11:36:00 -0400

From: "Phil Troy / G. Tacitus Adamantius"

      <adamantius.magister at verizon.net>

Subject: Re: [Sca-cooks] Re: OT- KIlts at war

To: mooncat at in-tch.com, Cooks within the SCA <sca-cooks at ansteorra.org>

 

> Phil Troy / G. Tacitus Adamantius wrote:

>> Eh heh. My apologies, though. My reference was to a very specific

>> Joisey Dook; I figured many on the Cooks' List would know very well

>> who I was talking about, especially if they've been in the SCA

>> since the Pleistocene Era...

 

Also sprach Sue Clemenger:

> Or lived east of the Mississippi?

> --maire, clueless in general, but especially on this one....

 

Duke Siegfried Von Halstern. A legendary fighter, several times King

of the East, in my opinion a reasonably good King.  He lived, and

AFAIK still lives, in the Barony of Settmour Swamp, specifically in

or around Joisey City, Noo Joisey. An apocryphal tale is told of him

wherein, in some public setting or other, he responds to a request

for further information with, "Whassamadda -- am I speakin' duh

King's Inglissh aw ain't I? Jeez!!!" We still, [very] occasionally

[and jokingly] refer to Duh King's Inglissh as being the official

language of the East Kingdom.

 

Adamantius

 

 

Date: Tue, 21 Sep 2004 12:14:50 -0400 (GMT-04:00)

From: Robin Carroll-Mann <rcmann4 at earthlink.net>

Subject: Re: [Sca-cooks] Re: OT- KIlts at war

To: Cooks within the SCA <sca-cooks at ansteorra.org>

 

-----Original Message-----

From: "Phil Troy / G. Tacitus Adamantius"

<adamantius.magister at verizon.net>

 

Duke Siegfried Von Halstern. A legendary fighter, several times King

of the East, in my opinion a reasonably good King.

------------------

 

He also led the east to its first Pennsic victory, at Pennsic X.

 

Lady Brighid ni Chiarain

Barony of Settmour Swamp, East Kingdom

 

 

Date: Tue, 21 Sep 2004 10:20:54 -0400

From: "Jeff Gedney" <gedney1 at iconn.net>

Subject: Re: [Sca-cooks] Re: OT- da Dook

To: Cooks within the SCA <sca-cooks at ansteorra.org>

 

here's my "da Dook" story...

 

a Loooong time ago when I was a new fighter, doing rather well locally,

and I happened to be the first fighter at an event (Blessing of the

Mead), and in a moment of sheer hubris promptly armored up and

declared, loudly, that I had possession of "the field".

What I did not notice is that another fighter had quietly unloaded his

rather non-descript armor and was dressing on the sidelines while I did

this...

 

I heard the following from behind me:

"hey! I'll take sum o' dat action!"

He popped his helm on, looked at me and picked up a shield and his

sword. He looked at me again, considering and put it back down, and

picked up a huge heavy great sword.

 

Ranging himself in front of me, he asked "so? you reddy?"

"Yup!" I said, raising my shield and taking what I believed to be a

good stance.

 

Clang!

I turned around looking to see who hit me, because I swear I did not

see my opponent's sword move an inch.

 

My opponent said, "Aw gees, I gues you wasnt reddy, less try it again,

tell me when yur reddy, kay?"

 

I took a moment to compose myself, determined to block the move and

avenge my self with a crushing blow, and said, "ready".

 

My opponent said, "you shur?"

 

"Yup!" I said.

 

Clang!

 

THIS time, due to my superior frame of mind and steely concentration I

was just able to see the sword as it came back to his guard, after

soundly whacking me.

 

I bowed to the inevitable, bowed to my opponent, and walked off the

field. as I walked of the field, another fighter nodded to me and said,

"Hiz Grace took it easy on ya, fella, He used to be faster off the

draw".

 

A sound and valuable lesson given on the necessity for humility, and

the empty hubris of mere mortals, as was then so often given out by

Duke Siegfried.

 

Capt Elias

 

 

From: alchem at en.com (James Koch)

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: mythbustin' in the SCA

Date: 23 Nov 2004 11:45:55 -0800

 

Drew,

 

Before you begin it would behoove you to obtain and read a copy of The

Knights Next Door, since Patrick has already traveled the world in

pursuit of these legends.  Of course only a few are included in the

book. You can order a copy from the following site:

http://www.knightsnextdoor.com/ .

 

Jim Koch (Gladius The Alchemist)

 

Drew <anicholson16 at comcast.net> wrote in message news:<qNudnTcdyZlsLT_cRVn-uA at comcast.com>...

> Ok, so a friend of mine and I are embarking on a new project: doin' a

> little bit of myth-busting in the SCA.  We'll take the oldest stories

> that people swear are true, and track down the people who were actually

> in the story, and see what's what!

>

> The classic example of this is how Cariadoc declared war on himself to

> create the first Pennsic.

>

> So, who has SCA myths that they'd like to see busted?  Send 'em on!

 

 

From: rudin <rudin at mail.ev1.net>

Date: July 18, 2005 10:12:46 AM CDT

To: "Kingdom of Ansteorra - SCA, Inc." <ansteorra at ansteorra.org>

Subject: Re: [Ansteorra] It’s the small things in life

 

> I have officially warped my mothers fragile little mind.

 

When my cadet Mark Greenleaf went to A&M and joined the Corps of

Cadets, he was seen one evening in the common room doing

embroidary. Of course, he took a lot of grief from the rest of

the Corps that evening.

 

Next evening, he was in the same place -- making chainmail.

 

Robin of Gilwell / Jay Rudin

 

 

Date: Sun, 4 Sep 2005 11:12:40 -0400

From: <kingstaste at mindspring.com>

Subject: [Sca-cooks] OT - Picking up the Pieces

To: "Revelwood" <RAGsheet_online at yahoogroups.com>, "Norseland"

      <norseland_nrs at yahoogroups.com>, "SCA Cooks" <Sca-cooks at ansteorra.org>

 

This message just came through on one of my lists, it is from a lady in

southern MS.  There were a couple of comments in it I wanted to share.

Christianna

 

I just got back on line. The power came back about 9pm.

My family use to make fun of my SCA "stuff" until I set up a camping

site with kitchen and candles. It is not so funny now.

 

p.s. don't hang red curtains around your deck or the military helicopters

will land in your back yard to make sure you are O.K. (I needed shade.)

 

 

Date: Sun, 04 Sep 2005 10:04:41 -0700

From: Susan Fox <selene at earthlink.net>

Subject: Re: [Sca-cooks] OT - Picking up the Pieces

To: Cooks within the SCA <sca-cooks at ansteorra.org>

 

On 9/4/05 8:12 AM, "kingstaste at mindspring.com"  

<kingstaste at mindspring.com> wrote:

> This message just came through on one of my lists, it is from a lady in

> southern MS.  There were a couple of comments in it I wanted to share.

> Christianna

> I just got back on line. The power came back about 9pm.

> My family use to make fun of my SCA "stuff" until I set up a camping

> site with kitchen and candles. It is not so funny now.

 

Ha! A lot of central Caid can say the same about the day or three after the

'94 Northridge Earthquake.  Including some of the most sumptuous shelters on

the block.  <guffaw!>  And there's this thing about knowing how to cook

sumptuous stuff on camp stoves that you don't learn on Scouting trips.

 

Selene

 

 

From: "Jeffs/Etc." <jeff_suzuki at yahoo.com>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Travelling in Garb...was Re: "Mission Statement" from the BoD

Date: 27 Feb 2006 10:38:02 -0800

 

Purple Kat wrote:

> Here I am sitting at the counter eating dinner when I hear -

> 'No No - She's Amish!'

> So I turn around to see where the Amish were,,, You guessed it! ME!

 

My lady once had the experience of going into a fast food place to get

a drink.  As she tells it:  the people behind her in line were

wondering whether she was Amish or something, because she was wearing a

floor-length skirt.

 

She turned around, and they saw that while her skirt was floor length,

her top was definitely...suffice it to say, they did not think she was

Amish ;-)

 

Jeffs/etc.

 

 

From: Robin Carroll-Mann <rcmann4 at salmon.earthlink.net>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Travelling in Garb...was Re: "Mission Statement" from the BoD

Date: Tue, 28 Feb 2006 03:26:44 GMT

 

On 27 Feb 2006 10:38:02 -0800, "Jeffs/Etc." <jeff_suzuki at yahoo.com>

wrote:

>My lady once had the experience of going into a fast food place to get

>a drink.  As she tells it:  the people behind her in line were

>wondering whether she was Amish or something, because she was wearing a

>floor-length skirt.

>She turned around, and they saw that while her skirt was floor length,

>her top was definitely...suffice it to say, they did not think she was

>Amish ;-)

>Jeffs/etc.

 

My lord and I were once standing in line at a supermarket.   He was

wearing tunic and braes, and I had on a generic t-tunic gown.  A pair

of older ladies were standing behind us.  One of them whispered to the

other, "I think they're Moonies."

 

Brighid ni Chiarain (mka Robin Carroll-Mann)

Barony of Settmour Swamp, East Kingdom

To email me, remove the fish

 

 

From: "Jay Rudin" <rudin at ev1.net>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Travelling in Garb...was Re: "Mission Statement" from the BoD

Date: Wed, 1 Mar 2006 09:35:13 -0600

 

I once stopped to pick up supplies just outside of Texarkana, Texas.  I went

into the store, and it was a classic general store, down to the two old men

playing checkers in the back.  I was dressed in Elizabethan lace, and the

old guys were looking at me kinda funny.

 

The lady at the cash register was polite.  We exchanged normal meaningless

small talk while I paid for my stuff, and then she said, "Excuse me -- may I

ask you a question?"

 

Sigh. I know the drill; you know the drill.  "Yes, ma'am, I'm in the

Society for Creative Anachronism, a non-profit educational orga..."

 

"Oh, I know all about the SCA, hon.  No, it's your accent -- where you

from?"

______________

 

Another time, several of us stopped at the Pink Poodle restaurant just

outside of Purcell, Oklahoma.  Classic truck stop, waitresses with hair in

buns, etc.  (Excellent biscuits with cream gravy, by the way.)

 

As I was in line to pay, a man in a crew cut and a gimme cap came up to me

and said, "Scuse me -- I wouldn't bother you for myself, but I got a

nine-year-old boy here wants to know.  Are y'all in a rock band?"

 

Robin of Gilwell / Jay Rudin

 

 

From: John Groseclose <bill at caradoc.org>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Travelling in Garb...was Re: "Mission Statement" from the BoD

Date: Tue, 28 Feb 2006 08:50:33 -0700

 

Mike McCollum <ultramike at cox.net> wrote:

> Standing in the line were a pair of prim and proper

> little old ladies right behind us. Every time I turned to speak to one of my

> buddies, the LOLs would look at the shirt, the .45, then me. Finally, I just

> couldn't stand it any more and looked them dead in the eye and said "it's

> alright ladies, we're militant Baptists". We got our chow and beat a hasty

> retreat before we all cracked up.

>

> Eadric

 

Many years ago, maybe a month or two after "Braveheart" came out,

around about midnight on a Saturday, I was on my way home from an event

and stopped at a local convenience store.

 

The clerk knew me, as I'd usually stop there to pick up a drink for the

remainder of the drive home from most events.

 

So... there I was, walking into a convenience store at midnightish on a

weekend in the full bhreacain feileadh (great kilt), big sleeves, dirk,

and using my axe as a cane because I'd twisted an ankle that day.

 

In the back of the store I noticed four youths making very obvious

preparations for a beer run. I walked to the cooler, grabbed my drink,

and headed for the counter. The clerk gave a nod and a wink, to tell me

he knew what they were up to.

 

As I reached into my pouch for some money to pay for my drink, I heard

an overloud whisper from that side of the store... "Hey... what's wit'

da dude in da dress?"

 

The clerk and I almost cracked up at the response from his buddy,

"Shhhh! Dude, didn' ya see 'Braveheart?' Dose guys KILL people for

talkin' shit about 'em!"

 

According to my conversation with the clerk next time I came through,

they never did make their beer run. He claims to have heard, "Dude

knows the clerk. Maybe he's just outside with that axe."

 

So, they'd politely paid for their stuff and then left.

 

Iain

 

 

Subject: Re: Travelling in Garb...was Re: "Mission Statement" from the BoD

From: "David J. Hughes" <davidjhughes.tx at netzero.net>

Date: Tue, 28 Feb 2006 18:06:09 -0600

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

 

John Groseclose wrote:

> The clerk and I almost cracked up at the response from his buddy,

> "Shhhh! Dude, didn' ya see 'Braveheart?' Dose guys KILL people for

> talkin' shit about 'em!"

>

> According to my conversation with the clerk next time I came through,

> they never did make their beer run. He claims to have heard, "Dude

> knows the clerk. Maybe he's just outside with that axe."

>

> So, they'd politely paid for their stuff and then left.

>

> Iain

 

Somewhat similar story:

Roughly 25 years ago, I had been at an event.  As I was finishing

packing up to go home, a storm came in, so I jumped into the car wearing

everything I'd worn to guard the Crown at closing court, and headed

home. Stopped to grab dinner close to home at a place that had both

drive in and inside service.  As I parked, I realized that the full

cloak I was wearing would be awkward getting out, so I slid out and

backed out of the car.

 

As it happened, the restaurant was in an area noted for -uhm- alternative

life choices.

 

The car next to mine held four teens, and I heard some ribald comments

concerning the "guy in the cape with the feathered hat".

 

I stood up, turned to swirl the cloak, and they saw a rather large man

in a leather brigantine vest, heavily armed.

 

Since the restaurant served alcohol inside, I opened the rear door, and

methodically removed a battle axe, belt dagger, boot dagger, a pair of

wrist daggers, started to close the door, stopped, removed the throwing

blade from the hat band, closed and locked the doors, and went to order

dinner.

 

Visualize four teens, very quietly concentrating on their food, and

leaving just as soon as possible <G>.

 

David Gallowglass

 

 

From: Gustav von Silberwald <gustavvs at yahoo.com>

To: caer gelynniog <caergelynniog at yahoogroups.com>,  Caermear  

<caermear at yahoogroups.com>,  Rivers Point  

<river_point at yahoogroups.com>,  Yarnvidi <yarnvidi at yahoogroups.com>

Subject: [caermear] OT: SCA on the darwin site

Date: Sun, 9 Apr 2006 08:19:19 -0700 (PDT)

 

Remember boys and girls your fire safety lessons....

 

Date: Fri, 7 Apr 2006 19:54:22 -0400

From: "v kelly"

Subject: SCA mentioned on Darwin Award site

 

Medieval Flambe

 

2005 Personal Account

 

  (Spring 1992, Bowling Green, Kentucky) The Society for Creative

Anachronism was re-creating medieval life at Beech Bend Park,  

nestled in a woody curve of the Barren River. Two female friends  

had pitched their tents with other sword-wielding, baggy-pants  

celebrants. They invited me and "Adam" to join them for one  

evening's campout. Since both were lovely blondes, as well as  

charming companions, we readily agreed. They provided us with faux-

medieval garb that would enable us to blend into the crowd. A  

tabard and baggy pants were enough for me, but Adam wanted  

something more. Every SCAdian practices a skill, be it cooking,  

singing, craft, or energetically whacking each other with duct-tape-

covered swords. Adam wanted to go all the way. He can juggle, which  

was a start, but not quite impressive enough. He decided to breathe  

fire. Adam had seen this stunt performed with pure grain alcohol.  

But he'd never done it, he was too young to buy alcohol, and the  

liquor stores closed at 11 pm. Still determined to blaze with  

glory, he went looking for a substitute.

 

      Let's see... what flammable liquids can a young man buy in a Kentucky

Wal-mart at 11:30 pm? There were several choices, none good. Adam  

settled on Coleman stove fuel. It was clear, and didn't smell too  

bad. He could pour it into an empty wine bottle for period realism.  

Adam decided it was close enough.

 

      Back at camp. "C'mere, I've got something to show you,"  

Adam told one blonde friend, and led her behind a large cloth tent.  

Nearby stood a group of men in chain mail armor, warming themselves  

around a fire. They could see Adam, but I couldn't.

 

      Seconds later, a deep "WHOOOM!" burst from behind the tent,

accompanied by a gout of orange flame. "Whoa!" cried all the guys  

around the campfire, turning to applaud. But their applause died.  

Through a double layer of tent fabric I could see this...  

afterglow. "Holy shit! He's on fire!" the mail-clad men yelled, and  

ran over to pound out the flames blazing around Adam's head.

 

      What Adam hadn't realized was that unlike grain alcohol, stove fuel

gives off copious fumes. As he swigged the fuel, some trickled down his

chin. Fortunately, he'd shaved off his goatee the day before. As it was,

fumes wreathed his head and fuel trickled down his throat. In the  

ensuing conflagration, he managed to scorch his eyebrows and the  

hair off the back of his head, while hardly touching that on top.  

Rivulets of flame ran down his neck, and he suffered chemical burns  

in his throat.

 

      Adam was still standing, and at first thought he was not seriously

hurt. But the burns started to sting, and I led him to the chirurgeon's

tent. They quickly ascertained that neither medieval technology nor  

modern first aid would suffice, and I drove Adam to the hospital in  

a horseless carriage. The burns on his neck healed without serious  

scarring, his hair re-grew, and the octave he lost off his voice  

came back in about six months.

 

      Five years later I went to another SCA gathering in a different city,

accompanying the same female friends. A long and entertaining day  

concluded with a belly-dancing demonstration around a bonfire,  

accompanied by throbbing drums. I turned to the stranger standing  

next to me and commented on how exciting the event was.

 

      "Aw, this is nothin', man," he replied. "If you think this is

exciting, you shoulda been here five years ago. Some crazy dude set  

his head on fire!"

 

      DarwinAwards.com 1994 - 2006

      Submitted by: Jim G.

      Reference: Personal account, Spring 1992

 

 

From: Derek Peterson <theodrik at hotmail.com>

Date: June 20, 2006 12:10:03 AM CDT

To: stefan at florilegium.org

Subject: a story correction

 

   Stefan, Greetings. May I congratulate you on what is the longest existing SCA website I am aware of. However, It has come to my attention that I am the subject of pre-1994 story as told to Hal Raven would retold what He got from His Grace Sir Frederick of Holland.

 

   It was in early A.S. 17, I had left work late and was driving to my bi-weekly practice at the Rockridge Bart Station here in the West. I pulled into a McDonalds drive-up to get "food" when I discovered that my way was blocked by two older teens in jeans and what where obviously D&D t-shirts, harassing the girl over the drive-up speaker. Being hungry, I leaned out the window and asked them to please step aside or just go in. The larger one gave me The Bird. So I backed up so that I could open my car door and started to exit the car. At this point the larger belligerent one decided to pull his 4" lock blade. Hungry, annoyed and full of newbie enthusiasm, I replied to his verbal abuse with "Oh, you Want TO PLAY!" and pulled my rattan sword out of the car and dropped into stance. About this time it occurred to me that I 1) didn't know HOW to fight single sword yet, 2) my shield was in the trunk and tactically inaccessible. So I figured I just knee-cap him and see if that ended the problem. However, his buddy jumped HIM from behind, pinning his arms down, yelling at him that I was in the SCA, that I hit people with that thing FOR FUN, and dragged him off. So I put my sword away, got back in the car and ordered. Never got a thanks from the girl however.

 

Sir Theodrik of Skane, West

 

 

Date: Sat, 16 Sep 2006 00:26:27 -0500

From: Anne-Marie Rousseau <dailleurs at liripipe.com>

Subject: Re: [Sca-cooks] Some Antirians go to Estrella... OT but

      Stefan      asked....

To: SCA-Cooks maillist SCA-Cooks <SCA-Cooks at Ansteorra.org>,    Stefan li

      Rous <StefanliRous at austin.rr.com>

 

Stefan asks for the "Antirians go to Estrella" story.

 

ok, this has nothing to do with food. just so you know. that's the  

other estrella story. the one about

donner pass and two college girls going over in a blizzard.... but I  

digress.

 

so I'm taking the shiney new apprentice to Estrella. he's never been  

out of kingdom, much less to an event

this big. We fly down with me, him, his spousal equivalent, and a  

couple other friends who made the trip. we rent a van and drive to the site.

 

we get there, and its dark. and we follow the looooooong road to the  

check in point. at which point a young

lady with a long spooky black cloak, most strange hair and a VERY  

unfortunate number of facial piercings

shines her flashlight into our van and says, growlingly, "TROLL?"

 

erm. well. we all look at each other.  Young Lady repeats herself.  

"TROLL???!!!!" Shiny apprentice boys

wife is driving and she looks at me blankly. I look at everyone else  

blankly. Is the highly ornamented young

lady declaring herself a troll? cuz she kinda looks like one, being  

all spooky and prickly and pointy like

that...is she asking if we're trolls? I mean, it has been a long trip  

and we're rather travelworn and

definately not looking our best...is she asking for directions? much  

puzzlement.

 

then I remember that in some places, "troll" is the word they use for  

"gate" or "check in". I smile brightly

and say "yes please!" and she points her shiny flashlight to direct  

us to the tent where we check in.

 

I explain what "troll" means to my campmates and much giggling  

ensues. (did I mention it had been a long trip?).

 

the end.

 

:)

 

--Anne-Marie

 

 

From: "Richard R. Hershberger" <rrhersh at acme.com>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Something silly

Date: 30 Jan 2007 07:32:56 -0800

 

On Jan 30, 8:49 am, djhe... at kithrup.com (Dorothy J Heydt) wrote:

> Chris Zakes  <donti... at gmail.com> wrote:

 

> >Be amused...http://www.rav4jousting.co.uk/Yup, silly.  I hope those were professional stuntment.  It was

> hard to see ... were those COLANDERS they were wearing for helms?

 

I liked the traffic cones.

 

Many years ago when I was in college we held a tourney on a campus

athletic field.  We had properly reserved the field, so there was no

question that our presence was legit.  Midway through the afternoon a

campus motorcycle cop comes by to see what was going on.  We

sent the seneschal over to explain, and the cop got on his radio and

broadcast one of those police codes.  We were getting a little

nervous, because while we were legit, you never can tell with police

that they will understand about people beating on one another.  More

cops arrived a little while later.  It turned out that the police code

translated as "Hey, guys!  You gotta check this out!"  We got a

photograph of the policeman on his motorcycle with a couched polearm.  

Alas, I don't have a copy of the picture.

 

In terra pax,

Rouland Carre

 

 

From: Chris Zakes <dontivar at gmail.com>

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

Subject: Re: Something silly

Date: Wed, 31 Jan 2007 07:15:11 -0600

 

"Richard R. Hershberger" <rrhersh at acme.com> to write:

>Many years ago when I was in college we held a tourney on a campus

>athletic field.  We had properly reserved the field, so there was no

>question that our presence was legit.  Midway through the afternoon a

>campus motorcycle cop comes by to see what what  was going on.  We

>sent the seneschal over to explain, and the cop got on his radio and

>broadcast one of those police codes.  We were getting a little

>nervous, because while we were legit, you never can tell with police

>that they will understand about people beating on one another.  More

>cops arrived a little while later.  It turned out that the police code

>translated as "Hey, guys!  You gotta check this out!"  We got a

>photograph of the policeman on his motorcycle with a couched polearm.  

>Alas, I don't have a copy of the picture.

>Rouland Carre

 

<chuckle> Back when I lived in the Barony of the Stargate (Houston)

our fighter practice site was on the main loop of the biggest park in

town. You could always tell when a rookie park police officer came

by--they'd slam on the brakes, turn on their flashers and grab the

radio. After a minute or two, they'd hang up the microphone, turn off

the flashers and proceed meekly on their way.

 

      -Tivar Moondragon

            Ansteorra

 

 

From: "David J. Hughes" <davidjhughes.tx at netzero.net>

Date: Wed, 31 Jan 2007 15:14:29 -0600

Subject: Re: Something silly

Newsgroups: rec.org.sca

 

Chris Zakes wrote:

> <chuckle> Back when I lived in the Barony of the Stargate (Houston)

> our fighter practice site was on the main loop of the biggest park in

> town. You could always tell when a rookie park police officer came

> by--they'd slam on the brakes, turn on their flashers and grab the

> radio. After a minute or two, they'd hang up the microphone, turn off

> the flashers and proceed meekly on their way.

>

>     -Tivar Moondragon

>           Ansteorra

 

More Ancient histroy from that fighter practice.

Senator George Bush would regularly jog in that park.

He would occasionally stop to chat with us.

Once he became a candidate for YP, his Secret Service escort

reportedly wouldn't let him do that anymore. 8-<

They seemsed to think we were dangerous.

 

David Gallowglass

 

 

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2007 07:15:11 -0600

From: "margaret" <m.p.decker at att.net>

Subject: Re: [Sca-cooks] flax processing (was Bread labor)

To: "Cooks within the SCA" <sca-cooks at lists.ansteorra.org>

 

The problem was as I remember it that the neighbors (who were rather old)

thought he was growing something illegal because the smell of retting flax

is a bit strong and he was doing it in his mothers back yard in Three Rivers.

 

Margaret

 

> Terry Decker wrote:

>> The first laurel in Calontir (I can't remember his name, but Margaret

>> probably does) grew, retted, cleaned, and spun the flax, wove it into

>> linen, then tailored it into garb, making his own scissors and needles in  

>> the process.  One of his neighbors turned him into the cops for manufacturing

>> drugs, IIRC, during the rather smelly retting of the flax.  I believe he

>> documented the project.

>> 

>> Bear

> Aye, well if he didn't, surely the police did.  <grin>  The problem is,

> unlike wool, which comes off the sheep in more-or-less usable form, flax

> takes weeks to "rett" or ferment in a pool so everything that's not

> usable fiber drops away.  It can't really be done as a one-day project.

> Maybe starting with pre-retted, dried tows.

> Selene

 

 

From: Cat Clark <cat at rocks4brains.com>

Date: January 15, 2008 9:58:29 AM CST

To: ansteorra at lists.ansteorra.org

Subject: [Ansteorra] The long drive home

 

> Do you older crowd remember caravan-ing?  How is it that we all have

> to work so late now? *grin*

 

When I first joined the SCA, I remember the road trips - 6 of us (plus

armour) stuffed into Yaroslav's old AMC Pacer (how's that for dating

myself?), leaving Chicago by the backroads to avoid the traffic jam

around O'Hare airport, driving through the night to Lonely Tower in

Nebraska, 500+ miles away; catching some sleep on the grass at the

tourney site before the locals showed up for set-up, helping to set up,

doing the tourney, going to the feast, going to the revel, going to the

post-revel; sleeping on someone's floor, driving home Sunday, doing my

homework in the cramped backseat of the car, getting home after dark,

staying up all Sunday night to finish my homework...

 

how'd that old 60's song go?

 

"Those were the days my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we choose

We'd fight and never lose

For we were young and sure to have our way"

 

How strange it was to move to Caid where every event was a quick daytrip

and Westies made jokes about the latest endangered species: Caidans who

camped...

 

<the end>



Formatting copyright © Mark S. Harris (THLord Stefan li Rous).
All other copyrights are property of the original article and message authors.

Comments to the Editor: stefan at florilegium.org