Not Broken, Just Bent.

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.

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.

"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.

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

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.

Marion's picture will have to speak for me.

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.

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.