We were delighted to take on this commission in homage to our client's love of Andrzej Sapkowski's Witcher novels, and the games inspired by them. Closely inspired by an amalgam of swords from The Witcher III: The Wild Hunt, we worked with the client's original sketches to realise his vision.
This fierce wolf is lively in the hand. Its imposing blade measures 4.7cm at the shoulder - yet the hollow pommel, impressive crossguard and narrowing profile taper centralise weight for a nimble cutting sword. The 8mm stock provides a good level of stiffness in the forte, resulting in good fencing flex without any sense of "wobble". Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar sword would cost.
∴ Specs ∴
Total length: 130cm
Blade length: 98cm
Blade width at base: 4.7cm
Grip length: 20cm
Grip and pommel: 30cm
Point of Balance: 7cm
Quillon span: 25.5cm
Weight: 1780g
Blunt edges
Rounded tip
Fencing flex
∴ Notes ∴
The hand-forged heat-treated crossguard (made in the historic wrap fashion) and partially hollow pommel are acid-washed to a matt grey finish, and partially polished to highlight the carved contours. The extended, faceted pommel features carved ring details and a copper peening block. The guard features sharply downturned quillons with ring-shaped detailing, and an ornate protective ring, filled with a hand-chiselled School of the Wolf sigil. The oak grip is wrapped first in linen thread, and then in deep blue leather. The broad-shouldered blade features two central fullers.
∴ Gallery ∴
∴ A Hunter for Hire ∴
As your breathing and heartbeat slow, the sounds around you grow distinct. The potion's aftertaste still lingers in your mouth, any warmth that its alcohol content provided quickly fading away.
With a forceful exhalation you open your eyes and - ignoring the familiar dull headache - quickly extinguish your campfire's last embers. A few more lungfuls of sharp air, and your senses are completely adapted to the all-consuming night.
Still kneeling, and without any hurry, you pick up the longsword laid lengthways before you, inspecting it carefully. The sheen of its wide-jawed sigil is almost blinding to your augmented eyes under full moonlight, and the amplified stench of the blade's oil coating makes you reel internally.
At least you know which foe you are facing tonight - the traces left on its victims told you everything you need to know. With a grim smile, you slide the blade into its sheath, draw yourself to your feet, and turn your boots toward the old ruin looming on the side of the hill.
If all goes well, you'll be riding for winter camp with a purse full of coin for a change.