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Dark Rocks

The Crois-Rionnag Broadsword



This stately early English basket hilt takes the slender blade of our Angelo broadswords and combines it with a hilt based on a Royal Armouries original.


The original hilt is dated from the mid-1500s, and our rendition replicates its hollow spherical pommel and simple barwork guard. While the barwork and structure of the basket closely follows the original, adaptations include making the basket more amenable for ambidextrous use, as well as adapting the terminals of the S-shaped quillons to match our client's existing swords.



The combination of slender blade, hollow pommel and minimalist basket makes for a very nimble broadsword, with the wet-formed leather liner adding an extra degree of hand protection. The sword is named for the tooled stars and crosses on the liner, translating to "star-cross" in Scots Gaelic.


Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar sword would cost.



 

∴ Specs ∴


  • Total length: 102.5cm

  • Blade length: 87cm

  • Blade width: 2.7cm

  • Blade stock: 6mm

  • Grip length: 9cm

  • Grip and pommel: 14cm

  • Grip to guard: 5.5cm

  • Quillon span: 21cm

  • Point of Balance: 7.5cm

  • Weight: 1150g

  • Ambidextrous

  • Blunt edges

  • Rounded tip

  • Fencing flex





 

∴ Notes ∴



The hand-forged and heat-treated basket and pommel are blackened to a matte finish. The basket features hand-carved flattened bars, S-shaped quillons, and hot-forged saltires. The spherical pommel is hollow for a central balance and features hand-carved line detailing.


The oak grip is wrapped in resin-soaked cord, and the basket has a hand-tooled and painted leather liner for extra hand protection.


 

∴ Gallery ∴



 

∴ A Star-Crossed Skirmish ∴



You kneel before the battered chest, as much out of reverence as practicality. The bolt slides back with a reassuring clunk; you swing back the lid and pull back the linen, and there it is. Just as you recall, from all those years ago.


The same long, straight blade, surprisingly slender but unforgettably swift. The same stern black saltires and round, ridged pommel. The same mottled brown leather, emblazoned with an aging silver pattern of stars and crosses. Star-crossed, they used to call you. You smile sadly at the thought.


When you last laid the sword to rest in your old traveler's chest, you swore your fighting days were over. You swore before judge and priest alike that the old rivalry was at an end. After five generations of feud, you were finished. Done with duelling. Done with reaving and revenge. Ready to start again, at peace with land and law.


That was before love came into it. She had hair like madder root, and eyes like kirkyard moss. Laughter like midsummer music. The stuff of poetry and more. She was the oldest daughter of your oldest enemy, set to marry some second cousin she'd never met. 


She only made eyes at you because she knew it was forbidden. You'd be lying if you said that wasn't part of thrill for you too. But what began as a secret scandal has grown into something more.


Something worth fighting for.

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