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Dark Rocks

The Maristella Smallsword

When our client requested a smallsword with clean lines and aquatic detailing, we jumped at the chance to create an elegant, ocean-inspired artwork. A scallop shell plate and periwinkle pommel introduce the theme, while the wave-shaped finials and sea-foam-inspired wire wrap maintain an elegant maritime feel, with a nod to historical originals. The Maristella's beauty is not just aesthetic, however: it is carefully balanced for swift actions and nuanced handling, sure to stun in the salle. Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar sword would cost.


∴ Specs ∴

  • Total length: 98cm

  • Blade length: 32"

  • Blade width: 2cm at base

  • Grip length: 10cm

  • Grip and pommel length: 13.5cm

  • Quillon span: 10cm

  • Point of Balance: 10cm

  • Weight: 480g

  • Sparring-safe edges

  • Fencing flex

  • Swollen tip


∴ Notes ∴

The crossguard and knuckleguard are blackened to an antique finish, contrasting with the hand-carved seashell pommel and plate. The hilt and shell are made from hardened steel for added durability. The hardwood grip is finished with a six-strand wire wrap, simulating the effect of crashing waves. The sword was created alongside a scabbard, belt and hanger set, which subtly continues the maritime theme in its metalwork and tooling.


∴ Gallery ∴


∴ A Siren Call∴

A lone and late-to-bed gull makes its keening call, your sole companion as you gaze upon the brooding waters. You can't explain what wonder this half-rotten wooden groyn holds for you - only that every night since the news of the wreck, you have found yourself here - waiting, willing.

The moon leaves a long path, stark and silver against the ebb. You imagine stepping from the worn planks onto the trail of light. As you trace the beam down toward your feet, your eye is caught by a glimmer between barnacled rocks. Entranced, you clamber toward it, little caring for your torn and sodden skirts. A silvern shell sparkles between stones, as if some siren's gift.

Heart pounding, you fall to your knees and grasp the tiny, hand-hewn thing. To your shock you find yourself clutching not a shell, but the pommel of a sword. Bathed in moonlight you rise, and draw it, Arthurian, from the depths.


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