| Zornhau ( @ 2008-04-11 14:21:00 |
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| Entry tags: | st george armoury, sword reviews, swords, wma |
The thing about swords... (St George Armoury review)
The thing about swords by Mark Vickers (St George Armoury) is that they feel real – and I should know, since I’ve handled originals. Better yet, they sing for at least a minute after combat.
For a Western Martial Arts hobbiest on a budget, a sword is an intensely personal thing. Something to be dithered over, saved up for, designed with loving care over many a pint in the pub, ordered, then eagerly awaited. Finally, after retrieving it from an inept courier service (such as Parcel Farce, Totally Nube Twits, Royal Fail), you unwrap it. The light glints off your new shiny and you whoop... then struggle for a name.
Hard to imagine our forefathers feeling the same way about a sword. Don Pero Nino used to finish battles with his swords looking liked notch-toothed saws. If William Marshal named his swords, we have no record of it.
But, for us moderns, a sword is a luxury item, a considerable chunk of the family budget, rather than a business expense. It’s the embodiment of our commitment to the Art, and the symbol of our other self… not the cubicle dwelling people person, seeking teamwork synergies going forward across the board, but the might-have-been Other Guy with honour in his heart, and somebody else’s blood splattered on his armour. Beyond that, a sword is a kind of kinaesthetic TARDIS. Pick it up, and you enter the same bio-mechanical world as men 600 years dead. Learn to use the thing, and dance in their shadows.
So, when I buy a sword, I want it to be blunt enough not to hurt my friends, but in all other ways real. I’ve not always succeeded.
My first longsword was a clone of the Battle Abbey Sword. Here's the original:
This was back before everybody was online, so I went with a local supplier. What I ended up with was nicely light and well balanced, but untempered and, thanks to budget, simply executed. It’s propensity for song was short lived, but the battered and burred blade survived a miraculous half decade of abuse– a tribute to the qualities of EN45 spring steel. I even took it on the re-enactment field (see right).

One day the pommel fell off.
It was a symbolic moment. I’d lent Big German Guy a light but crappy sword of dubious provenance so we could practice Zornhau into Zornhau without his monster blade mashing my new shiny - another clone of the Battle Abbey Sword, this time 36 inches of tempered steel, beautifully done.
German Big Guy threw a Zornhau and Zornhaued his blade (trans: he threw a diagonal strike at my shoulder, I returned the same strike, but into “his” blade). Clatter! The other blade hit the floor.
Big German Guy looked rather forlornly at the stub of his weapon. “OMG Zornhau! I broke your sword.”
I glanced at the clock. For family men like me, fencing time is almost more precious than steel. “Never mind, pick up my old Battle Abbey.”
So BGG swings the old sword at me, a weapon that had once been my pride and joy. The new version cracks into it and resonates like a tuning fork. The older sword contributes a single “thud”. The pommel now lies on the ground.
BGG pulled off his mask and swore – a rare occurrence amongst Opus Dei Black Ops guys, so I believe.
“Never mind,” I said. “Let’s go to the pub.”
“OK, I’m buying.”
In truth I really didn’t care. here's why:

The new version from the Armoury of St George made what was left of the old one look like a high school craft project. Built to my exact spec, balanced to a T, the moment I picked it up, it plugged into my body image and became an extension of myself.

The new version from the Armoury of St George made what was left of the old one look like a high school craft project. Built to my exact spec, balanced to a T, the moment I picked it up, it plugged into my body image and became an extension of myself.
So, when it was time to keep up with the Marxbruder and up-gun to a 42-inch greatsword, I went back to Mark. I pointed him to a Durer image I’ve always liked and asked for something in roughly the same style, all to a tight budget – which he delivered.
Unfortunately, a few weeks of use taught me that ’d cocked up my spec. I’d said “Tough enough to withstand beats to the blade”, which he’d taken to mean that I expected to parry with the flat, rather than what I intended – to survive counter-strikes such as a Zornhau into a Zornhau. So I ended up with something a trifle blade-heavier than intended; hard on the shoulders, and when struck it clanged, rather than hummed. Worse, I discovered that the S-shaped cross has a practical function as sword catcher (see right), but only if it’s the other way around!In the mean time, the bi-weekly smite-fests exposed a problem with the glue on the grip, and the leather came loose.
I was… unhappy. This sword was my 40th birthday present from my wife. Not exactly compensation for my advanced years, so much as proof that there’s still money and time for toys. And, of course, a sword is a personal thing. Feeling my pain, Calcinations kindly hand-delivered the sword to Mark at a market.
Mark fixed the grip and guard free, and picked up the postage. He also tweaked the balance for a mere £20. The sword came back to me so quickly, he must have stepped out of his van straight into his workshop.
The end result is a sword I love to wield. A sword that sings…
