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Dark Rocks

The Phayanaga Sabre



This distinctive East-meets-West sabre is inspired by 19th Century military sabres from Thailand, with aspects drawn from the 1821 pattern sabre.


The handling is nuanced for competitive fencing, with a hollow pommel lending itself to fairly neutral balance. The sword feels light and nimble in the hand while maintaining presence and character in the fight.


The hilt is wider than original Thai sabre guards, providing extra hand protection while maintaining the lotus-petal shaping of the inspiration. The grip features a wide backstrap with hand-carved checkering and chevrons for added grip.


It is named for the divine serpent kings who are the national symbols of Thailand and patrons of rivers and water. Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar sword would cost.



 

∴ Specs ∴



  • Total length: 109cm

  • Blade length: 91.5cm

  • Blade width at base: 2.4cm

  • Blade stock: 6mm

  • Grip length: 14cm

  • Grip and pommel: 17cm

  • Grip to guard space: 5.5cm

  • Quillon span: 16cm

  • Weight: 985g

  • Point of Balance: 14cm

  • Ambidextrous

  • Blunt edges

  • Rounded tip

  • Fencing flex






 

∴ Notes ∴



The hand-forged and heat-treated guard and pommel are polished to a satin finish.


The ambidextrous guard is petal-shaped in the Thai style, with extra width given to the sides. The rear of the guard terminates in a rounded flick, like that of the 1821 pattern sabre. The small mushroom-shaped pommel attaches to a wide backstrap, with hand-carved detailing for added grip.


The oak grip is carved with a spiral, then wrapped in black kidskin and embellished with a twist of braided steel and brass wire.

 

∴ Gallery ∴



 

∴ A Serpentine Boon ∴



The red stone is slick and wet beneath your boots, their practical sturdiness starkly at odds with your surroundings. The torch in your hand flickers, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls to either side of you. In the yellow glow you can see the strange, scale-like patterns that gave this cave its legend, and from the corner of your eye you are almost certain you see them writhing and twisting in the dim light.


With each step deeper into the cave the air grows cooler, carrying with it the faint scent of incense. So you are not the only pilgrim who has come to this ancient place with some plea today.


As the passage grows still narrower and more winding, your left hand tightens around the hilt of your sword, though you can't say what it is you fear. The smooth steel guard like an unfurling lotus is cool to the touch, focusing your breath as you press onward.


At the heart of the cave is an altar, bathed in the soft glow of natural light filtering in from a fissure above. It is adorned with offerings and incense - a humble tribute to the creatures said to dwell in the depths below.


You shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, uncertain what to do now you are here. Your grandfather said the naga would guide you, but your faith in such things has long since dwindled. You cannot help but feel absurd, standing in this fabled place in your crisp soldier's uniform.


At last you draw the curved steel blade from your side, laying it upon the wet, red stone as you kneel. You close your eyes, letting the silence of the cavern consume you. By degrees, you realise that it is not silence after all, but the distant, constant rush of water, like a gentle whisper echoing through the walls themselves.


You breathe in. You breathe out.


As you open your eyes, you are startled to see a serpent's glittering eye reflected in the blade of your sword - then you realise it is only the crack in the stones above, letting the sunlight in.



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