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Dark Rocks

The Fibula Messer

Designed for reenactment use, this messer is based on an amalgamation of self-defence knives from the 14th-16th centuries. Made with messer and buckler fighting in mind, it is nimble and manoeuvrable in the hand, ideal for small cuts from a position of safety rather than heavy, swinging cuts.

Its hand protection takes the form of short quillons and a flared nagel, allowing a degree of defence when the sword hand emerges from behind the buckler, or when the weapon is used on its own. This guard was hot forged as a single piece, lending historical technique and added durability.

Its construction is typical of a messer, with a visible tang sandwiched between oak grip halves and pinned with steel rivets. The hooked pommel takes inspiration from originals, hand-carved into a bulbous shape reminiscent of the head of a bone. It is from this that the messer takes its name.

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


∴ Specs ∴

  • Total length: 76cm

  • Blade length: 60cm

  • Blade width: 3.4cm

  • Blade stock: 6mm

  • Grip length: 8.5cm

  • Grip and pommel: 14.5cm

  • Quillon span: 16.5cm

  • Nagel length: 7cm

  • Point of Balance: 5cm

  • Weight: 1040g

  • Right-handed

  • Blunt edges

  • Rounded tip

  • Fencing flex


∴ Notes ∴


The hand-forged crossguard and pommel are polished to a satin finish.

The crossguard features short, square quillons and a central nagel, flaring to the terminal. The pommel is hand-carved into a traditional "bone" shape, featuring decorating carved lines to the tip.

The blade features a fuller to the spine while the oak grip is pinned through the tang in two places.


∴ Gallery ∴

∴ An Unfortunate Rogue ∴


It's not often that you pass through this part of town, and the smell hasn't got any sweeter. Normally you'd send a boy on any errands requiring passage through the East quarter, but today's is a matter of absolute urgency.

You keep your eyes on your shoes, all too aware of their incongruous finery. You do this for two reasons: to avoid treading in human muck, and to keep from making eye contact with anyone who might take offence at it. You press on with a pace a little faster than walking, wishing neither to linger nor draw attention.

You are grateful for the reassuring sway of your knife at your side. Short-bladed and devoid of decoration, it is an honest companion in this renowned pit of thieves. You should not like to use it, but you hope the look is enough to deter any would-be assailants.

Even as you think the words, your steady progress is stalled by a sharp shout before you. Wincing, you raise your head to see a burly fellow blocking your way.

"I beg your pardon?" you inquire of him, mentally sizing him up.

"I said you're not from around here," he drawls. "If fancy folk like you are gonna be using our roads, I reckon I might have to start start taking a toll." He laughs at his own joke, tugging a crude knife from his belt.

You grit your teeth, your hand moving over the bone-shaped pommel at your hip. You see your would-be robber's eyes widen as you draw it with an elegant sweep and fall effortlessly into stance.

Once, just once, you think, you'd like to complete a simple errand without it descending into a scrap. Still, if it's a fight the fellow wants, you'd best make it a good one.


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