The Serpensfang Dagger
- Balefire The Questing Light
- Jul 16
- 3 min read
Made as a companion to the Serpenscor rapier, this flexible parrying dagger will be a versatile off-hand asset in most HEMA contexts.
To counter the thin, flexible blade, Chris forged a hollow pommel, bringing the balance back to neutral after the fashion of 16th-century daggers.
The result rotates well and moves nimbly without lag. The filled port provides extra protection for the fingers when held at the correct angle, and carries on the decorative piercework of the rapier it was made to accompany.
The Serpenscor rapier's aesthetic can also be seen in the straight, flat, flaring quillons and the fluted steel wire-wrapped grip, both of which are modelled after the Wallace Collection's A635
The name of the sword is a play on the name of the dragon-adorned rapier it was made to match - if the Serpenscor sword is the serpent's heart, surely the nimble dagger is its fang!
Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar sword would cost.
∴ Specs ∴
Total length: 57cm
Blade length: 42.5cm
Blade width at widest: 3cm
Grip length: 10cm
Grip and pommel: 14cm
Grip to guard space: 4.5cm
Quillon span: 18cm
Weight: 461g
Point of Balance: 3cm from cross
Ambidextrous
Blunt edges & rounded tip
Fencing safe flex
∴ Notes ∴
The hand-forged and heat-treated guard and pommel are blackened to a matte finish. The guard is formed of flat-section bars, with long straight quillons that flare to the terminals. The guard features a single filled ring with heart and circle piercwork.
The oak grip is carved into a spiral shape, and wrapped in twisted steel wire, with Turk's head knots to the top and bottom. The hollow pommel is a flattened ovoid, with a false peening block. The blade features a single short decorative fuller to the first quarter.
∴ Gallery ∴
∴ A Cordial Encounter ∴
White ash fills the air, drifting like snowfall onto shards of glass-smooth stone. You roll onto your side, coughing lightly and tensing as the convulsions rack broken ribs.
Your sword lies beside you, its blade snapped like a bone. And above, leathern wings beat against the night as the great beast wheels around, wounded, toward the high peaks.
Not victory, then, but survival. That is something. You will rest here for the night. Just a short rest, and then you will journey down the mountain to return the broken sword to the chapel, where it will no doubt be mended and passed on to the next poor, fated fighter.
Your part in this story is done. There is comfort in that. The dull warmth of the scorched earth rises up like an embrace. Just a short rest, you tell it.
But then, through hooded eyes, you see a sparkle of steel, half-buried beneath the ash. A distant curiosity takes over, and you pull yourself toward it, like moving through a dream. Your hands, blistered and bloodied, close around the object.
A dagger.
At first it seems simple enough. A parrying knife, long and gently tapering, a single ring adorning its blackened guard. The grip sparks a sliver of recognition, and glancing back at the broken blade behind you, you know the dagger to be its pair.
Strange, you think. The priest never mentioned a knife.
You run your thumb along the flat of the blade, watching the dull gleam of distant light reflected in its fuller. It shines like steel, but it feels somehow different against your skin. Smooth and organic, with an almost imperceptible grain.
The realisation hits you in a hot, heavy wave, and you almost drop the dagger.
The blade is a dragon's tooth.
