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There is something about standing across a large field looking at five hundred of your closest acquaintances who are ready to smack you with a big stick that just says FUN to me. As most SCAdians know it takes a wierd individual to spend the amount of money and time it requires to build the armor and the martial competence to swing a stick without hurting yourself or someone else anyway, so I fit right in with this crowd.
There we were (No kidding), lined up across the field from each other staring menacingly at people we didn't really know (or could really see for that matter) waiting for "Lay on" to be called. I was in a reserve/flanking unit that consisted of myself, Garrotte Orowarke, Cona MacPherson (only a lowly squire at this time), Aidan Makay, and Sir Malachi Halfdan Brightskull. We were a formidable looking bunch (so we thought anyway) and we were devising strategies and contingency plans and "what-if?" scenarios that we were hoping would cover all possible outcomes of the first charge. We finally settled on "If they aren't wearing blue tape hit them."
"I can do that" I thought.
Across the field a "Lay on" was bellowed and the order to move forward was given to our army.
The Standing People's Army of Meridies (SPAM for short) immediately went into its World Famous "Amoeba" attack formation.
If you've never seen it in action, it is truly a sight to behold. It is a well "planned" maneuver that requires the right and left flanks to run full throttle towards the enemy, while the middle kind of strolls forward until the right and left flank nearly make contact with the enemy. Then the flanks stop dead in their tracks and the center of the front rank runs full tilt into the enemy's lead rank.
The three-step charge rule and all other related combat rules apply here and are strenuosly adhered to by all combatants for the safety of all involved, I don't want any e-mails about Charging rules and Combat Etiquette etc... This is a STORY!!!! I am embellishing for your enjoyment.
After the center of our army makes contact, the flanks charge the remaining distance into the bewildered enemy and fold them into a nice neat little package for immediate and total destruction. Well at least that is how we see it.
The truth is, it is unintentional and occasionally it does work the way I described it. It does throw the enemy off and breaks them into smaller pockets of resistance but it can work against you and often does.
Anyway, the armies charge. My reserve unit trotted up behind the main body of our army watching for weak points to plug or exploit as the case may be. The "Amoeba" was in full affect and just before the armies made contact, about twenty-five members of our left inexplicably break right and leave our entire left flank dangerously exposed to the evil machinations of the enemy horde before us.
Evilly machinate they did too. I was standing about five paces to the left of my unit when I noticed the tactical maneuvering of our left flank. My eyes focused thirty feet in front of that gaping hole and spotted a large force of well armored and physically powerful (appearing), heavy combat card holding, stick swinging, spear-wielding, slavering wierdos (just like me) who also noticed the same hole and start moving in that direction.
"Oh crap!" I thought out loud.
In slow motion I turned to the right, screamed to the reserve team "There's a huge hole in the left flank!!!" and bolted to try to close it or at least hold up the charging force until more help could arrive.
I forgot several minor details at that instant in time....
So, I go hauling armored booty over to stop the charge of what originally appeared to be five or six fighters. As I get there I realize I am staring at someone with three brass/ bronze scallop shells on a really pretty wide brass band AND what appears to be the armorial bearings of the Kingdom of Atlantia!!!
"Oh crap," I sighed. This is becoming my mantra.
I stop just short of him and swing an off-handed cross shot right into his grill. Meridies, touch kill right? Not this time. It was a beautiful shot, it landed dead-center in his grill and I let it hang there for a split second longer than necessary to emphasize that it was clean, it was there, and there was no denying it. I looked him in the eyes and smiled, he looked at me and swung mightily. The fight was on!!!
Ok, now I am going to brag. I feel I have earned that right with this combat, that I am about to describe to you.
He swung a mighty rising snap shot toward my head which I deflect-i-ducked (New word, I made it up) with my Saxon strap-on teardrop shield and pulled my head so far into my shoulders I could taste my breakfast. I swung low, stepped right and hit him square on the ass with a psuedo-wrap shot. We swung sturdy sticks of duct tape and rattan at each other; dodged and blocked mightily; mildly grappled; pushed and/ or shoved for what seemed like eons. About this point in time I realize I am all by myself and my compatriots have been slightly delayed by my foe's men.
"Oh crap." I should just get a sign.
As I am fighting and blocking for my life, I start catching movement out of the corner of my eye that is coming from the "Not Friendly" side of the war. I sidestep my opponent and get out of range and take a quick surveying glance and I notice 1001 Atlantian Knights running in my direction. Well that is how it appeared to me.
Take a wild guess at what I said..... go ahead I bet you can't guess!
"Oh crap." I exclaimed mightily. (Artistic license, I'm allowed).
I turned enough to put his back to his charging reinforcements and charged him. I am more of an urban assault type anyway and it was at this point I found my Nirvana. I became one with my sword and shield, I was deflecting his shots and throwing blows that made him step back out of the way and recompose himself. That felt good.
It was at this point that his reinforcments arrived on the scene. I was a blocking maniac at that point. Since I was lightly armored I knew I hadn't rhinoed any shots that had landed. I would have been able to tell.
I don't want to bore you with the finer points of my eventual death, it was at the tip of spears that I met my demise. My foe had stepped back and let them come after me. He walked off in search of other combatants and left me to fight against phalanx of spearmen and swordsmen. I killed two spearmen that got cocky but that was it.
As I fell to the ground and called out "GOOD!" I could hear clapping and cheers in the background. It turns out that the whole fight took place very near the end of the field away from the castle and very close to the populace who were watching the whole thing. As I took off my helm and walked from the field, Lords and Ladies came up to me and took my heavy armor from me to lighten the load, and told me what a spectacular fight that had been to watch.
It was then that I realized I had single-handedly held up a contingent of fifteen heavily armored and bloodthirsty fighters who were bent on destroying my army from behind. As a result of my being there, their opportunity to do serious damage disappeared. It was at that point that I fell deeply and truly in love with our hobby.
In my story I discussed my combat with another fighter who could have possibly been a Royal Peer. At no time during the combat did I ever consider that he was dishonorable or unchivalrous, nor do I know that he was truly a Royal Peer or even from Atlantia. The whole gist of this story is, that because of our fight, I became 100% enamored with the SCA. If I can ever find him I will hand him a large goblet of the finest Scotch I have and raise a toast to him.