kragore: (Raven)
Sat down and sewed up the holes in my fighting pants.
Hopefully, this weekend will see an end to the albatross that has become the breast/backplate of my "new" suit of armor I ordered 3+ years ago.
New stainless spaulders and arms on order to match the new kit. (Different armorer - I should have it the by the first few weeks of Jan.)
Need to get a gorget made that will tie the new helmet that's been sitting on my living room floor for a year to the rest of the kit.
Need to look into the boots again, and a new gambeson.

Maybe I'll get this kit together by the time I wind up quitting.

Which lately has been an awfully tempting proposition.

Crown

Oct. 31st, 2013 11:23 am
kragore: (Raven)
Tree crap aside, this is what I'm planning to have with me for Crown. And yes, I paid for the dayboard, but I know how likely it is for either me or my consort to actually get there.

2 chairs
1 small table
plates
mugs
3 quart carafe of hot water (pick up from BBB this evening)
cocoa mix
tea
pepperoni
cheese
rolls
cashews
apple slices
purple gatorade
red and blue gatorade gummy blocks

I need to bring the sacks of black walnuts to give away.

Tree crap:
folding table
Consort's device
New Knight's device
All the arms
The new toolbox with screws/extra crap
The retrofitted CA Tree. (uprights, base)
Drill/Bit to make CA tree work on site
Tools. Because.

Also, I sent in my resignation to Brigantia this morning.
Spring will be my last Crown coordinating this. If anyone's interested in taking over, speak up.

Well, shit.

Mar. 7th, 2013 01:55 pm
kragore: (Raven)
So yea. Dislocated my right thumb Tuesday night. The guy who would be my knight was the one on the throwing end. Awkward. But made better by this being someone I trust, so my brain much more easily accepted this is an accident.
Instinctively slid it back myself, so no hospital trip. Yay. That sucked. There was cursing and kicking the wall a few times. I likely made a bit of a scene, and for that I'm mildly ashamed. Doesn't jive with my normally taciturn self, though at that point, most of my reserve was out the window.
Flight or fight responses are funny, and holy heck I'm a flyer when there's real pain involved. Likely years of being around large animals where you don't have the luxury of laying around thinking about how much that just sucked. You get away and assess. I assessed from the corner with my back to the room.
It's good and swollen, highly limited range of motion, colorfully bruised, very, very stiff. Incidental contact right now is a shin-kicking offense. Whole arm aches up the the shoulder. Luckily, I'm a hunt-and-peck typist, and I drive an automatic, primarily with my left hand. Eating and writing are the worst, followed closely by putting on socks. Belt loops on pants are a godsend for hooking the middle finger through and pulling.
I had plans for drawing out my badge submission, cleaning and baking this weekend, but we'll see how much use I have back by then.

In other news, put in the down payment on the new helmet this morning. The 3' wide nasal was no issue, so as soon as I can put the helmet on my head, I'm going to try a 4,5 and 6" just to see where the madness should end.

meh.

Jan. 22nd, 2013 09:55 am
kragore: (Raven)
Hrmm. Birka this weekend.

Since my best Birkas are one in which I walk in with big fat 0 expectations, so I shall sally forth into this one as well.

Might peal some tape off the helmet in preparation, but beyond that, I'm not stressing out over it.

Only think I'm actively in the market for is gauntlets that don't suck. We shall see if anything pans out.
kragore: (SCA)
There was a discussion Sunday about learning styles. About how I don't feel I learn well from just repeatedly being bludgeoned in the same spot over and over. How that leads to frustration and anger at myself that I can't protect myself from getting clocked in the same place. That it leads me to eventually stop fighting certain individuals, as I don't feel I'm learning.
In hindsight, I think I am.

That makes me angrier, because that method of teaching leaves me feeling like crap - physically, but more deeply emotionally. There are many reasons for this, none of them rational, and none of them immediately fixable. I just need to work through it, with a few very select people to help. If we pick though the above statement, we find the theme of frustration, anger and self-protection. What do I have to protect myself from? I'm there to get hit and to hit. Let it go.
Oh, that it were so simple.

If there's anything I've figured out, it's that there's no magic switch to flip to negate deeply seated emotional hurts. This hobby has the nasty habit of taking those things which you thought you dealt with and carefully packaged away, pulling them out into the light and ripping them wide open again. Think you were over the fear of being laughed at? Of being yelled at? Of being disciplined? Of disappointing?
Think again.
It's all pulled out for you to rummage through again. At night. When you can't sleep and the clock is mocking you and the one place to retreat is elusive. Some days it'll be easier to tape up those boxes and shove them into the emotional corner. But those day where you're raw and lonely, when the helmet isn't big enough for you and all the voices in your head, all yelling, coaxing, cajoling different things at once? Those are not the days when the boxes stay in their corners.

But something must be working.
It's taking people longer to kill me.

Can I?

Aug. 17th, 2011 03:02 pm
kragore: (Default)
"Can I get a spear up here?" I grit out through the grill of my helmet. My utterance might be no louder than a whisper. I can't tell over the din of bodies impacting bodies, weapons on shields and the cries of people fighting all around me.
All I know is that Sir Colin has called for spears, and no one's responding.

"Can I get a Spear?" I cry again, and a voice, cool and smooth as rainwater trickles down my spine, cutting the dust, cutting the sweat. No one can hear you, it tells me. No one will listen to you. This isn't your place, to be telling these men what to do. You will call for a spear and send them to the front of the line to die, and it will be your fault they die. Your fault.
In a space between heartbeats I counter as I grab the spear nearest to me and shove him forward in line. This is a Game. No one's going to die today. They strapped on the responsibility for their hurts when they strapped on the armor. There is no fault.
But who are you to make these decisions? You don't know what you're doing. They aren't going to listen. You're only going to do it wrong and they will blame you.
Blame. Fault. Guilt.

"Can I get a spear?" it comes out bearly louder than a murmur, and the scaley voice chuckles. See? Who's going to listen to you?

The line washes over us. The dust, the heat, the crush of flesh, and I'm on the bottom. There's no room for Mr Cool under here with me. There's no room for me under here with me. One gauntleted hand is still on the post, but there's an elephant sitting on my chest and it's getting hard to breathe; but I hold onto that post. Please stop, sir. Please stop. Please stop, and the elephant shifts to my hip, parts grinding in ways that are so far from pleasing there's tears in my eyes, or is that the dust? Either way, there's no crying on the list field, and all I can repeat is Please Stop in my mind.
My hand falls from the post, the elephant stands up, and a marshal hauls me out. I wasn't having the arguement with myself, it seems - some one on the top of the pile heard me and called a hold. I'm fished out and sent away, equally irate and ashamed. Should have been stonger. Should have been faster, tougher, more skilled. But there's little that could have been done in the face of the enemy's momentum.

"Can I get a spear?" I hear as I limp away. It will not be me shuffling them forward to die. My time is done, and Mr Cool chuckles unkindly in the face of my pitiful tenacity as I sit down on a bale of musty hay and wait for it all to happen again.

For now, there is only tenacity, and it must be enough.

Quick help

Jun. 14th, 2011 05:37 pm
kragore: (Default)
Ok - everyone's busy, I can't afford to pay someone else to deal with my garb, and I'm still waiting on garb from a 3rd party that was promised last year.
Since I'd prefer not to be naked at Pennsic, I'm looking for the Least Offensive mass produced pattern for a simple dress for sca events.
No guessing, no fudging, no higher math, just a plain old McCall's pattern that won't get me scoffed out of town. Mom and I just don't have the mad skillz most of ya'll do to seemingly whip it out of thin air. We need the type of firm, CLEAR directions you find in the patterns for idiots.

Help?
kragore: (SCA)
Onto the internet dwelling people of the East,

I wanted to take a moment to thank you all for your help with the collection of devices for the list trees for Crown Tournament.

On Saturday, I was called into Court and given an accolade from the Ladies of the Rose for being instrumental in the function of the list trees.
I accepted the honor hesitantly, because while I am the face, the praise should not be mine alone.
For each person who helped me locate a device on OSCAR -
For each person who emailed and called and otherwise harassed a combatant into submitting their device -
For Baron Ryan, who helped me decode the blazon,
For each person who schlepped a part of the tree to the site,
For Lord Symon de Poitiers, who in a blaze of inspiration constructed a tree the week before Crown, (as we were short one,) -
For each person who's helped mount and label the devices to the backers -
And for every person who shyly admitted they didn't have a registered device, but would this do?
I thank you.

This endeavor would never succeed as well as it has without your participation.

Sincerely,
Baroness Katarzyna Gwozdz,
known as Varju
kragore: (SCA)
UPDATED 4/25 - 12:10 am.
This will float at the top of my journal until Crown.

NOTE: The device DOES NOT need to be registered to be used, (though it would be keen if it were.) The fighter just has to be able to recognize it as their symbol. If they have no graphic, but have an *idea* of a graphic, I can make it work.*

I can take almost any graphic and make it functional for this purpose. If you are, or know any of the listed, Pretty Pretty Please have them contact me NO LATER than APRIL 27th with their device at varju . gwozdz at gmail . com.

Feel free to pass this along to any concerned parties - I will update this list as frequently as possible.

Key:
Name - I have the device on file
Name - I'm converting the picture/blazon I got into a vector file so I can make it big with no loss of quality
Name - I do not have ANYTHING, and they run the grave risk of getting the dreaded Argyle Shield of Shame

The List )

*Disclaimer - I'll make a graphic that will work for Crown. Getting it passed by the College of Heralds is another matter entirely, and will be up to the individual if they choose to pursue it. I will make helpful suggestions, but I will make no claim to their pass-ability. I might make faces if you start getting all "checky pink and lime, a double headed winged caribou rampant next to a platypus pizzled resplendent".
kragore: (SCA)
Since opinions on the Crown format were solicited, a few observations -

1) Personally, I'm a big fan of the round-robin style of tournament. Not only because it makes things a little less hectic to set up the heraldry trees, but because this makes it more worthwhile for fair-to-middlin' participants to come out - it's more than one and done, and I feel it serves as an excellent learning opportunity for new blood.

2) I'm biased given my fighting form of choice, but I do admire the fact that other styles are given a little room to breathe in this format.
I acknowledge that when I enter any kind of bear-pit tournament with a glaive, I'm at a recognizable disadvantage, (skill level aside,) but that is the style I choose to play with. Were I to enter a tournament that was dictated sword and shield, it would be... a learning experience. I do not begrudge the tournament format-er due to my lack of skill in the style.
I may in the future attempt to be more familiar with a variety of formats if the situation bothers me that much. (Or not participate, if I feel my lack of skill will present as danger to myself or others. (Usually more "danger to myself" - I don't want to blow out my elbow in a wonky style I've never used and will never use again, just because, thus limiting my fighting later.))

3) True, more time for people to prepare for the format shift might have been nice, but life/shit/things happen.

Of course, this is simply one opinion in a sea of many, and your mileage may vary.


I am debating cross posting this to my facebook, but I don't know that I want to be as gasoline on a fire.
- K.

FYI

Nov. 16th, 2010 11:16 am
kragore: (SCA)
I will be attending Duello this weekend, if even just for a little while to support my friends, and BBM/Bergantal Yule the first weekend of December.
Then I will be taking a break until Birka. I need the down time, and I need my weekends back to retain my sanity. Loves you all, but this recluse needs to hibernate for a while, watch it snow, bake bread, sleep late, and play with my dog.

I will be organizing an outing to The Clark to see the Dürer exhibit though - watch this space.
I'm trying to decide if the Saturday after Thanksgiving or the Sunday after Christmas would be better.
- K.
kragore: (Default)
...I think I'm saved.

Last night I left work, and the sky was even still light. Ran up to Office Max, picked up laminated devices and a spindle of blank CD's. They had no 2" book rings, to my great disappointment. Ran up to Cohousing, grabbed a small handful of device blanks, chatted with people and pooches.
Then it was off to my place, to let Mr. B out, and toss some kibble at him. I shoveled down a bowl of cerial, then it was off for a speed walk around the graveyard.
(With the high clouds and bright moon, it's quite lovely in the not-so-dark.)
Put him back in the house, jumped in the car. Trotted over to Staples and forced the stockkid to climb up the ladder to fetch me as many 2" book rings as they had. (In the way that this project is going, I am 1. ONE. box short of having enough.) Flew over to Michael's to pick up a framed scroll (wow, he did a nice job) and a roll of leather lace. Toodled over to The House of Fur (Tegan and Loreen's place) as he was the closest person who'd offered to help with the assembly process. (And my flight pattern just wasn't going to bring me up to cohousing again.)
2.5 hours later, one lovely glass of rootbeer and rum, many, many furry snuggles, (they were Heppin'. Really.) We got them all done save for the last two that need rings.

Went home, walked and brushed the dog, burned the rest of the devices to CD, (I think I have duplicates of some now, ah well,) and crashed around 1.

Now, to churn and burn a ton of crap here before I take off.

But first - Tea.
Because this morning, I need tea.
-K.
kragore: (SCA)

IMG_5464
Originally uploaded by Marion del Okes
Marion's picture will have to speak for me.
kragore: (Default)
I want this weekend to never get here and be already done simultaneously. I'm sure I'm not the only one.
Not sleeping particularly well. Was up procrastinating sleeping again last night. Annoying, but productive.

Have to put a new strap in the right gauntlet and a new rivet in the right elbow tonight. Guess that's where I'm taking the most damage - the "cuff" of the gauntlet certainly shows it. Drilled out the rivets, just need to tap the new ones in.
Otherwise, everything's been polished and oiled well as can be. Noted a few straps that will hopefully hold through the weekend - I'll deal with their replacement next week.

Off to try to figure out where I packed my creative pants away to.
kragore: (Default)
There will be AoA part 2 this weekend, in which I return Her Majesty's ring, (glaring at you So Hard,) and apparently walk away with a piece of paper, if all things go as planned.
I was just told to tell ya'll. So there you go.

(de)Coronation is being held way the eff down in Jersey though, so I don't expect anyone to show up unless they are already there for the ceremonial boot out of office.
- K.
kragore: (SCA)
It was, all at once, a most difficult and lovely event. The weather was kind, the hosts were delightful.

I did not see the call to court coming until about 20 seconds before it happened.

Thank you everyone, who made it all it was. From the Old Bear who got me there and zenned the words, to my dear friend who has entrusted me with something deeply touching, and to the other dear friend who lifted me up off the ground to present me to a court when I don't think my knee was going to really let me... Thank you. From the very bottom of my heart.

It was for me so very thoroughly touching, and a tad bittersweet.

Jozef - you can use a capitol L now.
See you all again next weekend.
- V.

Explain.

Sep. 2nd, 2010 03:06 pm
kragore: (SCA)
When paroosing a site recently, I came across the following statement, (out of kingdom, but discussing the Society in general):
What should a consort avoid doing? - Overt cheerleading for their fighter during a tournament (cheering, clapping, hooting).

I would like an explaination of this outlook, please, since I *am* a demure and subtle flower of the North.
kragore: (SCA)
I worked hard.
I played hard.
I fought hard.
I cried hard.
I laughed harder.
I lived and loved and experienced life hard.

In the supermarket last night, browsing the milk, acutely aware of the empty space to my side, I came down hard.

It was war.
My experience can not be tidily summarized in a few paragraphs.
It is in my mind as snapshots in time -
In Oaken Glen's Shower Pit, realizing that if I stopped moving I was going to fall asleep Right There,
Up to my elbows in dish water at O'Choda, merrily splashing away making bubbles for no other reason than to make bubbles,
A long ride to Ohio for a fridge, (struggling to stay awake and failing miserably),
one blissful long afternoon under the trees in a hammock, falling asleep to the dulcet sounds of drunken FizzBall,
Quiet evenings with a lovely glass of port and quieter conversation,
watching the magic of the place wash over new faces,
being so bone tired not even remembering how I got to bed,
CowDucks,
long solitary walks in the dark, surrounded by people and yet utterly alone,
and being presented a gift and promise that took my words, my heart, away.


It was not an easy war. It was not a vacation in a mundane sense. It was not relaxing.
It was bigger, greater, and far more robust than anything before. Vacation is to War as water is to port.



I sit and sip my smokey tea out of my war mug, and remember you all fondly, and try to remember what my name is.
- K./V./S.

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