My Dear and Honorable Grandchildren Most
Amiable,
Our household is flush in the throes of
capricious peril contradiction. So few
are left among us who remember times ago when Rolling Thunder was new in the S.C.A
and the Society itself was new to the world.
Those years far gone now when everyone in Rolling Thunder was known to
every other. The enchanted time when we
really did “play act” the Middle Ages.
Brother and Sister were more than just words blown through the air like
dry autumn leaves. We really were
family. We defended one another, and
suffered for each individual's pain.
Our honor and chivalry were worn on each person’s sleeve, each
reflecting all the others for the world to see, to emulate and to envy. I ask that you humor me now, this tale of
amelioration.
Our history officially begins on 18 August 1977
ce, Gregorian. I lived in a small house
in the city of Anchorage, Alaska with my brother Larry of the Birchwood and
wife Kimmel of the Sable Shire. It was
Kimmel who was first Matriarch of Rolling Thunder in the S.C.A. Larry and I worked for the Alaska Railroad;
Kimmel’s family had restaurants.
Another brother, Patrick of the Caves was a forest firefighter and a
student at the University of Alaska, Anchorage (U.A.A.)
One day Patrick came to visit after school and
began to recount a most marvelous and fantastic tale of chivalry and honor, of
knights and fair ladies, the Queen of Love and Beauty, and poets and bards,
jongleurs and distant kingdoms, and best of all ARMORED COMBAT! Could fun at this level really exist? We wondered in awe. Like so many kids over the last thousand or
so years, I said to myself, “YES!”
Outwardly I was eventually able to ask, still with the shock and near
disbelief, “Where do I sign up?”
I discovered next that our place of residence
was no longer Anchorage, Alaska but the incipient shire Eskalya. The first actual SCAdian that I met was
Eskalya’s first knight, Sir Ragnar Blackspruce of House Winterhaven. When he introduced himself he said, “Well
met m’lord!” Sir Ragnar, much to his
honor, was always exemplary of chivalry, courtesy, grace and a fine and true
gentleman of the sort I’d always believed a knight to be. I was forever hooked.
Through Sir Ragnar I met Viscount Master Ulrich
von Matanuska and Sir Einrich Armpittsbane (who claimed he was a dwarf in spite
of the obvious fact that he was over six feet in height and some two hundred
plus pounds in mass). Both these
impressive sounding (and looking) gentlemen were members of House van Dag from
some place called the Principality of the Outlands which, I was told, was but a
subdivision of a vast kingdom they called “the Atenveldt” which, they told me,
meant “The Desert Place.”
Master Ulrich held classes at a local primary
school in the evenings where he exuberantly taught many new people (or newbies)
to sorta/kinda grasp an understanding of the concept of the “current Middle
Ages”. He patiently spent many hours
answering our hundreds of questions.
The excitement of these classes was quite palpable.
Meanwhile, good Sir Ragnar held Saturday and
Sunday afternoon fighter practice on the edge of the Blackspruce Swamp across
the lane from his manor. Soon, about a
dozen raw newbies began enthusiastically building combat armor from carpet,
rope and duct tape and creating helms from non-rechargeable freon cans with
chrome plated bars (appropriated from grocery store shopping carts) for
grilles. We used “pre-owned” hockey gloves,
pants and pads. Basketball pads were
worn on elbows and knees with duct taped carped for grieves and gorget (this
was about the time when we newbies began to truly realize the universe is held
together with silver-tape). The only really
good armor we had was a “nose guard”, purchased new, of course. In those first painful days we wore no thigh
armor and no arm protection. Helms were
held on by the tight cushy fit provided by layers of thick, open-cell foam padding. No chinstraps, they were still nearly a
decade down the SCAdian road. As one
can easily see, we were very much like current (A.S. XXXIII) Ansteorran
warriors.
I once heard a “mundane” describe our dementia
thus: “They put buckets on their heads and blankets on their shoulders and beat
each other with baseball bats!” Not a completely
inaccurate description.
My first fighting event was the Anchorage
Renaissance Faire. Quite suddenly I
found myself in a place and state of mind where, if I should squint my eyes
just right I would time shift and poof-de-presto!, I was THERE, REALLY THERE on
the Field of Glory in the 10th century ce. Hoo-Boy! This was as
close as one gets to too much fun. No
shit, there I was…dreaming the dream.
The pavilions, the banners and pennons brightly colored rippling on the
breeze. The ladies so beautiful and
fair. The entire atmosphere seemed
magically charged and everything made it the more wonderful by the manners and
period speech of every gentle there, so easy it was to recognize those playing
the game and the scant few who were merely “mundanes” in costume. Great Stuff!
It was at this same event where I discovered,
for myself, the difference between Knights and mere men at arms…When Sir
Einrich beat me up so bad I had to be carried from the field and could not walk
nor even stand for hours.
In but a short time I discovered that nearly all
the “newbies” had been asked/invited/drafted into either House van Dag or House
Winterhaven…but of course, not me. So
it was then I came to realize I already belonged to a great household and began
to organize them (along with several members of van Dag and Winterhaven) into a
shire we called Selveirgard which we took to mean “freehold”. And so it was that the House of Rolling
Thunder came into the Society as not only a fully-fledged household but also a
shire complete with infrastructure and officers. Thus was the melding of Rolling Thunder with the Society for
Creative Anachronism. And there was
much rejoicing.
In A.S. XII Viscount Ulrich von Matanuska was
the reigning warlord over the entire land area north of the 55th
parallel. We called that position the
Lord Defender of the North.
Consequently, Rolling Thunder was able to contribute greatly to the
laws, customs and traditions of that entire sub-continental region of over six
hundred thousand square miles. It was
from this beginning (from what is currently the Principality of Oertha), the
shire of Selveirgard dominated the battlefields of Oertha, for as Ulrich’s
reign would draw to its end there was Einrich to rule for the next six months
and so on.
Eventually, Sir Einrich determined that Oertha
no longer suited his taste and he yearned to return to his home in the high
desert of al-Barran where the Principality of the Outlands was soon to become a
Kingdom. Having stood so close for so
long in the light and heat of the fire that was Rolling Thunder, he was forever
changed. When he returned to his home
in the Outlands, he took with him a spark from that fire and the Known Worlde
shall never be the same.
Once in al-Barran it was with fantastic speed
that spark broke into a raging inferno.
Sir Eldr, Sir Creon the Artisan, Sir Olaf Bear Crusher, Lady Myrby, Lady
Merlina, Lord Hawk and the many fabled Birds of Prey, Lord Ox, Lord Ragnar,
Gregor, Elisheva and scores more swelled the ranks of Rolling Thunder. Sir Einrich became King of Atenveldt and a
short year later King again. (Pretty
darn good considering he only ever entered two crown lists.)
Sir Eldr became Prince of the Outlands. Sir Einrich was the Great Motivator. Sir Eldr showed us better materials and
better ways of mass-producing armor; how to fight as a team and destroy our
enemies with spears. His efforts
forever changed the way S.C.A. wars are fought. Sir Olaf Bear Crusher made our legendary kettledrums like
“Scarface” and taught us to build others like Lady Teal’s “Rasputin”. Sir Creon the Artisan taught us that armor
can be an art. He also taught us to
play our drums both in “Middle Eastern” and “Tribal” styles. Elisheva, who nurtured us, fed us and
listened to us, came to be called Mother Thunder by us.
We experienced unprecedented, explosive
growth. Every where Rolling Thunder
went, Rolling Thunder kicked ass.
Rolling Thunder played the game better than anyone anywhere and so
naturally almost everybody allasudden wanted to join Rolling Thunder. Ah fame!
But at a heavy price. By the
time Einrich became Duke Einrich the laws of Atenveldt and the Outlands were
forever changed and in many places Rolling Thunder became a name synonymous
with evil. The fact is, that at the
time, Rolling Thunder comprised the largest, most mobile and most effective
fighting force anywhere in SCAdia and was home to the best-trained and most
effective SCAdian bureaucrats before or since not withstanding.
Duke Einrich then began a sabbatical of some
eight years or so for reasons which nowadays have become all too clear to
me. It was during this period (1986
ce.) that I first visited Rolling Thunder in the “lower 40”. What I found was a people who though persecuted
for their familial affiliation, were intensely proud of themselves as a group
and very, very tight with one another.
Whether we came from this Kingdom or that, we
always camped in a circular Thunder camp, fought as a single unit and destroyed
any and all who were wont to test their mettle against the very best. These wonderful people talked the period
talk and if they swaggered a bit when they proudly walked it was simply because
they were the very best of their day.
The world didn’t particularly like us…but they had to respect us, “lest
we should stand on their chest till they don’t breath no more!”
Victory Through Intimidation came to mean
Rolling Thunder. We styled ourselves
“Nasty to the Bone” because our army with our leaders was invincible. Even our would-be enemies would say, “So
goes Rolling Thunder, So goes the war.”
Rolling Thunder is so big and so diverse. How did this happen? Here I have attempted to draw for you a
thumbnail sketch of early Rolling Thunder history. Perhaps others will now write and help add to the continuing
story.
Every member of Rolling Thunder is responsible
to every other.
Flynx