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>
Edited by Mark S. Harris	SCA-stories3-msg	Page 53 of 53