This ornate longsword was made as a companion piece to our acclaimed Volutio rapier. This posed an interesting challenge, as the Volutio is based on an extant complex hilted rapier. In translating the original's spiral and beast's head motifs to a simpler cruciform sword, Chris created a unique weapon with a strong edge of heroic fantasy. The tooled 21cm grip gives the functionality of a hand-and-a-half sword, while feeling secure in the hand and adding an extra level of artistic flair. Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar sword would cost.
∴ Specs ∴
Total length: 122cm
Blade length: 95cm
Blade width at base: 4cm
Grip length: 21cm
Grip and pommel: 26cm
Point of Balance: 7cm
Quillon span: 27cm
Weight: 1560g
2mm edges
Rounded tip
Fencing flex
∴ Notes ∴
The heat-treated crossguard is oil blackened, partially polished and hand-forged into beast heads at the quillon terminals. The spherical pommel is likewise blackened and carved into a nest of spiral sigils. The oak grip is wrapped first in linen thread, and then in black leather with spiralling risers underneath. The blade features a broad, central fuller and the sword's construction is finished with a spiralling copper peening block.
∴ Gallery ∴
∴ A Hero's Luck ∴
By the half-light of the flickering campfire you run your finger over the graven whorls - as you have a thousand times before, around a thousand different fires. You've carried it with you all these years, this strange stone - since the day you found it in that barrow. Of all the treasures you've discovered and bartered and lost, this is the one that's remained with you - across hill and vale, barrow and battlefield.
You once believed it brought you luck. Ha! Hard years have cast aside such superstition. No, your reputation is built on the strength of your arm, the skill of your hand, and the swiftness of your beast-headed blade. There is no luck to the legend you've become. No magic to the stone.
Even so, you always like having it to hand, turning it in your palm as you plan the next day's battle or mourn those lost to battles past. There's something about its solidity - its realness amidst your surreal adventures. The familiarity of those curves, which your worn fingers traced night after night in unfamiliar beds.
That is why you bade the smith drill a hole through the thing, and hammer it onto your sword. Not to imbue the blade with some wight's ancient power, but to remind you of your own, intrinsic magic.
You hold the sword up with a satisfied grunt. The weapon wears it well. And do you imagine it, or does a slight shimmer of silver-blue skip over the clustered gyres? You smile and shake your head. Must be a trick of the light.