The Witcher 3 players amongst you will recognise the inspiration behind this Polish style sabre as Iris, the sword given to Geralt by Olgierd von Everec. Made for a friend of ours, it is modified from the game design to include more practical elements for a fencing sword.
Chris drew heavily on antique Polish szablas in both the balance and aesthetic. Designed for close play, it features a central balance with a slight forward presence due to the width at the yelman. As a result it flows beautifully through hanging guards and cross-body cuts, parrying with authority as it moves through its graceful arcs.
The custom-sized guard is a homage to the Witcher franchise's grim fantasy aesthetic, with the addition of a slightly enlarged thumb ring to fit a fencing glove. It features a hyper-real antiqued finish, and hand-chiselled details including a swooping hawk and laurel motif.
Named for the Latin family name of the Iris plant, it is a beautiful and functional spin on the game's Iris sword. Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar sword would cost.
∴ Specs ∴
Total length: 98.5cm
Blade length: 83cm
Blade width at base: 3.5cm
Blade stock: 6mm
Grip length: 14cm
Grip and pommel: 14cm
Quillon span: 16cm
Weight: 980g
Point of Balance: 18cm
Right-handed
Blunt edges
Rounded tip
Fencing flex
∴ Notes ∴
The hand-forged and heat-treated guard and pommel are antiqued to a textured finish.
The guard features straight, square-section quillons with a cross-shaped quillon block and a large thumb ring. It is decorated with hand-carved and filed linework on the quillon block and terminals.
The heel cap features a hand-engraved hawk and laurel motif, chiselled and filed in a traditional style. This crowns a grip of stained and antiqued oak, wrapped at the base with chestnut brown leather. Brass nails reinforce the toe of the grip against heavy use.
The blade is single-edged, and features a false edge to the yelman and a fuller to the spine reaching to three quarters of the blade's length.
∴ Gallery ∴
∴ A Flash of Inspiration ∴
You step in, the steel before you singing, the fluid power of its curved blade an extension of your own graceful motions. The ball of your thumb presses hard against the steel loop of the guard as you pivot your hips, the sword folding into your body as you move around to meet your opponent.
As you turn you are struck suddenly by the unmistakable scent of orris root. Gentle perfume on the morning air. The softest of laughter. The glow of early sunlight through fine linen sheets.
Then just as suddenly the scent is gone, leaving only the bitter taste of sacrifice.
With a sudden frenzy of feeling you parry blow after blow, driving ever closer to your opponent until you can feel his breath on your skin.
With one decisive upward cut, you stop toying with your prey and watch him crumple to the ground. Then indolently you clean the blood from Iris's blade and slide her back into her sheath.
In this way, at least, you can still dance with her.