Gulf Wars XXI (aka 2012) Part 1: The not-really-fighting part   Leave a comment

Spring came to the SCA once more and we haj’ed on down to the Promised Land, where the booze flows freely, the fighting never stops, and there are no hangovers.  No, not Valhalla (but pretty damn close).  Yes, it was time to take a little trip, like Colonel Jackson, down the mighty Mississip, and go to Gulf Wars!


We rolled in to site around 4 or 5 and found that the line for Troll was much longer than it was last year, when we arrived at exactly the same time.  This is not inherently a problem, but… well… that many SCAdians, who’ve been driving all day, if not multiple days, crammed into a small space, made me seriously question what the hell I was doing there.  Then we go trolled in, set up our tent, and started drinking, and I knew.

We dined on the fine, fine camp cookery of Murienne l’Aloiere, who fed me breakfast and dinner all week for sixty bucks, which was the best deal going and better food than I’d have had fending for myself (Banana bread pudding for breakfast!  For serious!).  Also she made coffee.

First order of business:  “Michael Wymarc is a Pirate.”  By torchlight. This time with masks.  Because we do learn from our mistakes (or, Michael Wymarc’s).  Still no cups (because Michael Wymarc is not a eunuch, yet), or gorgets (because Michael Wymarc does not poop in a bag, also yet).  Mattheu and I started it out, and I had a pretty good run, mostly because I was drinking Alric’s Cardhu until he noticed.  Somewhere around the sixth or seventh pass the Great Leveler caught up with me.

And then Sunday night it pissed down rain and a river ran through our tent which never quite got dried out until Thursday or Friday (when I went after our ground cloth with a utility knife to drain it).  By comparison, this was the only flooding in the tent, whereas last year’s nylon leaked like a sieve.  Yay camping!


As with last year, and all years going forward, Gulf Wars starts with the Battle of New Orleans.  This time we sallied out a little late, pausing to set up Atlantia’s field pavilion shortly before a thunderstorm rolled in, then hit the road, me driving a van full of The Puppies (a horde of little twenty-somethings that seemed to infest Gulf Wars this year), Letia, Ella, and Mattheu southward.  Beignets were had, then much wandering through the French Quarter, Pere Antoine’s, Boondock Saint (“The bar with the cute waitress who served us absinthe last year”), Pirate’s Alley (the bar with the less cute waitress who served us absinthe this year), and, probably most importantly, new fencer scarves for everybody.  No, really: EVERYBODY  (the rally area for the Atlantian army on the field looked like a cock fight had happened there).  We got in to camp late, slept, and woke to the new day, eventually.


If Gulf Wars is a war with no enemies, Tuesday was pretty much the day to sit around and shoot the shit with our non-enemies.    The Trimaris tourney was moved, so aside from the tavern brawl it was an all-pickups sort of day.

I finally got to meet and fight with Staffan (Hi, Staffan!), got to give Hawke her “Congrats on the White Scarf” beating, got to fight Corbin, finally, four years after Duncan told me to go find him and kill him at Gulf Wars.  Basically worked through my big honkin’ checklist of whuppin’.  It was hot as hell and muggy, too, so nobody was really acclimated, which made it a good way to ease in to the war (which was hot as hell and muggy THE ENTIRE WAR).

I was not too thrilled by the tavern brawl.  The line was too long and the fights too quick, and the scenarios a little too goofy and contrived (“We’re going to waste most of your time with you sitting while somebody rolls dice, rather than just calling ‘Lay On’ and getting your kill on”).

Which meant it was time to head back to camp.  But I was still a little hungry for some combat.  Luckily:
a)You can fight in camp at Gulf Wars
b) Indy and Raph had brought their nylon wasters.

We masked up and fought a bit, until the game nearly became Wistric Oftun is a Eunuch, then food, fun, and wandering, but not too much because the rapier melees were the next morning (and this time the night didn’t include being awake until 2am, then waking up again half an hour later to an exploding truck).

Posted March 23, 2012 by wistric in Events

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