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The Start of Fighting Season

Posted June 1st, 2011 at 04:15 PM by Sylvano the Wasabus
No alarm clock today- Saturday morning. The sun arrives early, shining first blue, and then blinding white through the shutters. The air smells like it does in the morning when you go camping- wet, bright, full of birdsong.

I swing my legs out of bed. I’m not the only one who’s awake. My sons are up, checking their weapons and gear. We worked on swords last night, but those were “guest swords”. Each of us has our favourite, and we double check them this morning, and make adjustments to frogs, belts, straps and scabbards.

It’s an interesting feeling and I savor it- I imagine that a millennium ago someone woke up and felt the same as I do this morning- nervous and relaxed at the same time. Reserved- knowing I’m going to need a lot of energy later. Calm before the thunder storm. This afternoon we fight.
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It’s our first big fighting day of the season and we’re to meet a large party at this huge 165 acre park and do battle. We call it a LARP, but there’s no story, there’s no magic, there’s no characters- it’s just each person and their weapons. We usually play capture the flag, with a captured flag at your base worth five points, a captured flag away from base worth two points and each fighter left alive worth one point.

So I guess it’s not really a LARP. We also don’t follow “safe fighting” rules- we allow head shots. Actually head shots are preferred, because they are kill shots. The swords may be of foam construction but they can hurt. Usually if you suffer repeated head shots it’s because you’re not protecting your head = your failing.

We eat a little and select clothing. It’s supposed to be warm, but the park is mostly wild areas and there are a lot of insects, thorns and thistles. I am suddenly inspired to draw swirling Pictish designs on my face, but I don’t have the right stuff- only grease paint which will run when I sweat and get everywhere. I have a kerchief head scarf that matches my belts and it makes me look distinctly pirate. And a little crazy.

I guess we were excited because we get there half an hour early, and then sit and wait amongst the picnicking families who try not to stare at us. We fight a little, and the picnickers slowly move away- carefully - not fast enough to startle us. A pair of old women in lawn chairs watch us for about twenty minutes. My son wants to charge them but I won’t let him.

The other fighters arrive. There are some old blades and it’s nice to see them. There are a few fresh blades too and we quickly lay out the rules and start the first game.

One team vanishes into the trees, heading for their home base which we call the stairs to Mordor. The other group waits for one last late arrival and we move into our starting area, just at the bottom of the graveyard, where people gather after they have been killed.

We catch glimpses of our enemy stalking us in the distance, upon the hills. I’m sort of in charge because no one else is. We outnumber our opponents, so we’ll win if we all stay alive and keep our flag. But we’re eager and we keep moving further towards the Mordor stairs and soon the enemy is coming upon us in force. We have no ranged weapons so you can watch your doom as it comes nearer and nearer...

In those precious moments before we’re engaged I urge everyone to stay together and we gather in a loose group with thick thorn bushes on three sides. The enemy engages us tentatively and I think I have chosen our spot well. Marrea is an old sword but she’s too eager and she runs out when she sees an opening and she is quickly swarmed and killed. The enemy moves past and I see the mistake, and it’s all mine. We’d bottled ourselves up, our opponents applied enough pressure to keep us there and then swept past us, down to our flag. There is only ten minutes left in the game – not enough time to get to the Mordor stairs- so we run crazily down the big hill toward the enemy which is running away with our flag. But they have too much of a lead and they’re all young (unlike me). They scatter and we can’t see who has the flag and who doesn’t. One of the new blades wipes out in a flooded thistle field and takes a mud bath. We lose because I let the enemy get around us.

We gather for a break in the graveyard and Marrea has red paint and proceeds to paint faces in a sort of stereotyped North American Native style. I’m jealous and wish I’d planned the Pictish swirls earlier.

We switch home areas for the second fight and my team climbs up to the Mordor stairs. We have two factions really- the eager, superfit group and the other ones. I qualify as an other one because I’m old and slow. We send the superfit group off running to get behind the enemy like they did to us and the rest of us lay an ambush around the stairs. And we wait.

I’m standing on a little high spot in a huge knot of 8’ cattails, brown and dead from last year and I see them coming. I have chosen my spot well so I have a good view of them. They split into two and one group goes up the big hill to come at the stairs from behind. I warn the single visible guard we have but there’s nothing she can do.

The closest group approaches the flag and the sole guard warily. We can’t see the other group at all- and suddenly there they are at the top of the stairs- but our runner group is on them and so we spring the ambush and charge the closest group. They lose their best fighter to a lucky shot- no one is invincible- and soon they are all dead but one. We win.

That’s all we have time for and we hike back to the parking lot area. I did not engage once- I didn’t even get to draw my sword- and the enemy admits they avoided me by design. It’s a compliment I guess but I would rather have fought!

We see everyone safely away and go home to lick our wounds. I have a twisted ankle, my freckled daughter is now my very red skinned freckled daughter and my younger son has a tick burrowing into his neck. We find three other ticks in our clothes and dispatch them.

Physically, aside from the annoyance of the ankle, I feel great. Like I’d just cleaned out a plugged pipe inside me. I do have four mysterious cuts on my right leg but they have already scabbed over.

It’s great to be alive, and I look forward to another season of fighting.
Total Comments 4

Comments

Old
I Hate Atlaga's Avatar
Wow. . . My family used to do something similar, until my uncle broke his brother's nose.
Posted June 1st, 2011 at 04:20 PM by I Hate Atlaga I Hate Atlaga is offline
Old
Lord Pyre's Avatar
Man, I want to hang out with your family!
Posted June 1st, 2011 at 05:31 PM by Lord Pyre Lord Pyre is online now
Old
Bolo's Avatar
Another great read.
Posted June 2nd, 2011 at 01:53 PM by Bolo Bolo is offline
Old
flameslayer93's Avatar
That sounds...awesome!!
Posted June 5th, 2011 at 04:16 PM by flameslayer93 flameslayer93 is offline
 
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