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Dark Rocks

The Riband Sidesword


This sidesword features a broader blade for the client's study of Bolognese fencing, and decorative elements inspired by the Wallace Collection's A550. Including the original's hot-flared riband quillons and scent-stopper pommel, we have arrived at a handsome and serviceable sword with low-profile hand protection and weighting that faithfully represents a sharp sword. Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar sword would cost.


 

∴ Specs ∴



  1. Weight: 1170g

  2. Total length: 111cm

  3. Blade length: 38"

  4. Blade width at base: 3.5cm

  5. Grip length: 8cm

  6. Grip and pommel: 13.5cm

  7. Quillon span: 23cm

  8. Point of Balance: 13cm

  9. Blunt edges

  10. Rounded tip

  11. Fencing flex


 






∴ Notes ∴

The hot-forged, heat-treated guard and pommel are oil-blackened to a matte finish. The hardwood custom-sized grip is entwined in braided brass and steel wire. The closed port features a piercework design of concentric circles, while the quillons and quillon block have hand-carved decorative grooves


 

∴ Gallery ∴



 

∴ A Decorous Twist ∴



Cobbles bite into soft leather soles as you round the corner at a run. Glancing left and right, you clamber atop a convenient barrel, then scramble over a wall into the alley below. A heart-pounding part of you registers shouts growing closer, angrier, hungrier - but you must shut them out. You must focus. You must maintain the advantage.


These streets were your playground, for a start. This is far from the first time you've sprinted along shortcuts with brawling bullies in hot pursuit. The difference is that this time, they're armed. This time, they won't stop at a few thumps behind the stables. This time, they want blood. You are hopelessly outnumbered, and entirely unarmed.


Skidding around a corner, you rear up in horror as you spy a shadowy shape slumped against a wall, dressed in fine silks. Your first wild thought cries murder, but then you remember where you are. The alley behind the tavern. Not a corpse then, but a drunk - yes, mumbling into his cup. As you turn to run, relieved, something else catches your eye: the black ribbon of a guard and a flash of steel blade tucked beneath the sot's arm.


An angry shout breaks the silence from the alley's mouth. You hesitate for the slightest sliver of a second, then the hilt is in your hand, blade drawn from the drunkard's side. With a grim smile you turn to greet your pursuers. Your odds just got a lot higher.

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