This high-concept kriegmesser was created for a customer who practices both Western martial arts and iaijutsu. As such, we struck an aesthetic compromise between a traditional messer and a katana, with a subtle yet continuous recurve that travels from the blade through the grip. The hand-carved goshawk pommel and green-and-white leather reflect aspects of our client's literary world - as a fencing tool, however, the sword is equally formidable in this one. Delighting in the cut, it moves fluidly around a nimble point. Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar sword would cost.
∴ Specs ∴
Weight: 1540g
Total length: 120cm
Blade length: 25.5"
Grip length: 22cm
Grip and pommel length: 29cm
Quillon span: 26cm
Point of Balance: 7.5cm
2mm edges
Fencing flex
Rounded tip
∴ Notes ∴
The hot-forged S-shaped crossguard, rings and hand-carved goshawk head pommel are polished to a satin finish. The goshawk has inset copper eyes.
The curved hardwood grip is wrapped in linen thread with cord risers, finished in green leather with white painted accents.
∴ Gallery ∴
∴ A Soaring High ∴
You close your eyes and focus on the threads of thought that are the goshawk's. A momentary vertigo washes over you, as you accustom yourself to being in two places at once - standing on the solid stone of the balcony, and soaring thousands of metres above the earth.
The raptor's nature tugs at your mind, and for just a moment you allow the rush of air and the lust for prey to take over entirely. Wingtips tingle with information from the air, and you answer automatically with a flap of your wings. You sense movement, some miles to the South, and hasten toward it, keening to plunge into the dense canopy that hides your quarry.
With regret you draw back in your mind, tugging the hawk's attention away from its distant prey and toward the sand-strewn riverbanks. Irritated, the bird wheels round and begins to follow the meandering waterway West. A glimmer arrests its eye. Not the glint of sunlight on water, but something still. Something solid.
Folding your wings you drop from the high soar, your human side feeling a gut-deep lurch, and circle the sand-strewn bank. There, still half immersed in the river that bore it West, is the unmistakable curve of the sword, the copper eyes of its goshawk pommel meeting those of your avian host.