My first Pennsic was number 17, summer of 1988, I believe. But it was my first major war and I had an incredible time. I traveled with my then boyfriend and was sworn to the Kingdom of Calontir in the midwest, and met a group called The Great Dark Horde one night at a party in the middle of the site. I was so taken with them I asked my king if I could fight with them for the event the next day (we were on the same side as allies between the Middle Kingdom and the East Kingdom) and he flipped out, revoked my oath of fealty and told me to go away. So I did. I went back to Horde camp and pretty much never looked back, becoming a Brother of the Great Dark Horde in 1989.
Back in those days, the Horde was a bit of an enigma in the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA). Founded by Yang the Nauseating (author Robert Lynn Asprin) at an SCA event in Michigan in 1971, the Horde made its first appearance with three Brothers and was briefly mistaken for a motorcycle gang by the other Scadians at the event. We have always been the friendly enemy within, eschewing Kingdoms for our own social structure and acting as a foil — always striving to do more, better and with more honour than the Kingdomers at their own game.
We are the only Great Household left out of the original five, and are considered similar but different to a Kingdom in status — we do not hold any geographical lands, or participate formally in the mundane structure of the SCA Inc, but our Khan is treated as an equal to Kings and we are sought as allies in the great wars around the SCA in areas where we have Brothers, primarily Estrella War out in the west and Pennsic War in the east. We have peers, (the highest level of award given by the kingdoms for fighting, service and arts) we have fighters, we have archers, historians, artists and more. We are larger than some of the kingdoms in terms of membership. (How many of us are there? Enough.) We are the only part of the SCA that has a continual memorial to our departed members known as the Khanate of the Pale Horse, and we remember our departed everywhere we gather, for meetings and events.
The Horde, like any organization has changed here and there over the years, but we have our traditional lands on the Pennsic site, Horde Hill — right in the middle of the place. We are the high ground, close to everything, and we hold onto that land with all our might, no matter that most of us can’t make war every year. The allotment of square footage varies from year to year by the number of Brothers who can make it, but it’s always in the same place. We have several neighbourhoods within the camp — Hill Top, Irish Channel, Slums/French Quarter — I’m a Slums/French Quarter guy. We used to have a ghetto as well; population me — so I could observe all the requirements of Orthodox Judaism, but I don’t do that anymore and just stay in the Slums. This year I was on the border of Irish Channel and the Slums proper.
I hadn’t been back since Pennsic 29, this year was 48, so an eighteen year absence on my part. I was more than a little worried about going back after all this time — would there be people I knew, would there be drama (two weeks is a LONG time to camp with people, no matter how good friends you are) and I wasn’t sure if I would get along with the newer Brothers who had grown up in my absence. I had lots of anxiety and even arranged for a telemedicine therapy session during war.
So I packed up my truck and drove for two days, stopping in Chattanooga, TN which is my half way point between home and Slippery Rock, PA. I arrived on Sunday evening, got my medallion and checked in, then went up to the hill to see what was going on. My Brothers from Canada had not arrived yet, so my yurt wasn’t on site; I crashed out in a tent set up for someone who would arrive on Wednesday with nothing but a blanket and pillows on the ground. My CPAP battery pack was dead — I did not sleep well, if at all. The next day my friends were delayed — so still no tent for me, though I did scare up a spare air mattress and power my battery pack, so I was able to sleep Monday night. I still hadn’t managed to get into garb at this point yet. But I was on site, I was getting to know people again and I could get some rest at least.
My friends arrived Monday night and we set up the yurt on Tuesday, after making a few minor repairs to the roof. My stuff had been unloaded from the truck and moved down to the slums where I was setting up, and I got moved in fairly quickly, got the power on and the fridge cooling. Made a trip to town and bought groceries and a box fan — while it’s cooler than Louisiana, it was still pretty warm and the air needed some help moving around. I got unloaded and put away and *finally* got into some garb and tried to be social a bit.
The next few days are kind of a blur — I spent most of my time in the smokers lounge, hanging out and getting to know people while chain smoking. (I only smoke at SCA events, but boy do I smoke at SCA events) I slowly meandered by way around camp and got to know some of the newer Bros and older ones, heard a few cringy stories about me from the days of yore and tried not to be too anxious. I did so so at that.
Wednesday I got super dizzy walking through camp, hit a guy line on a tent and my knee went out, landing me flat on my back in the path. I was embarrassed but fine, as people swarmed around me, offering chocolate, cold water and support to get back up, which I eventually took after the dizziness subsided. I think it was a matter of my blood pressure dropping suddenly when I got up, as I had just eaten prior and was generally keeping myself hydrated. but it was embarrassing as hell.
Thursday I had therapy for an hour in my yurt, over the phone. We discussed the things that had happened and my therapist pointed out to me that when we started my goal was to be up more than 6 hours a day, and now I was across the country camping with people I didn’t know very well — I had in fact made HUGE progress. So I felt a little better.
Friday I skipped the handfasting up on top of the hill (didn’t know the Bros getting handfasted) and continued to hang out in the smokers lounge, hearing all the drama of staff and parking issues as the people continued to roll into site. We have a lot of staff members in the Horde, so we hear all the dirt. Next year I plan to volunteer a bit with staff so I can drive the golf carts and yell at people.
There were war points and some classes, but none I wanted to take this year, the offerings were a bit slim compared to Gulf War, which is half the length. I was disappointed, but I kept smoking and hanging out. One night I did get a little frisky with the Polish Potato Water and had a bit of fun, but I went to bed before I got too drunk, and didn’t have a hangover the next day, so that was good.
On Wednesday of War Week (midnight madness) I went shopping, and bought a few things — a new linen outfit, trousers and a tunic; a plague rat for my cat, and a Pennsic tee shirt. One of my friends from the smoking lounge gave me a tasting cup — a pottery shot glass that I used to sample the potato water. It’s green, my favourite colour, and hangs off my belt on a lanyard so I am always ready to sample things. I sampled a few things, though I only got drunk once, I don’t like to lose control too much.
On Friday people started leaving, and we tore down the decorative items of the camp to go back into storage. Sunday the last of us packed up — just barely getting the yurt into the bed of the truck — and worked on getting the shower trailer ready for on site storage and we got off site about 4:45 — we were supposed to be off at noon, but we had to send some Brothers for tools, and used my truck jack to get the shower trailer off the stabilizing jacks so it could be hauled away. I went to dinner with some of the last remaining people and then to my hotel in town for the night, so I could rest up before starting the drive back home Monday. Then I drove for two days and got home Tuesday night.
So that was war. I still haven’t unpacked the truck, I slept most of Wednesday and had doctors appointments on Thursday, and worked around the house today. So this weekend I will unpack the truck and get that all put away sometime when it’s not too hot. But over all it was a nice, quiet war, not too anxious other than here and there — and I’m looking forward to going again.
I’m trying to save up for an event in spring in Australia, just a couple of weeks after Gulf War — we have Brothers there too and they want us to come over and hang out. So I am budgeting for that, if I can save $325 a month from my fixed income and get Mum to buy the airplane ticket (I will pay her back from my savings, I just don’t have the credit limit to buy Aussie tickets up front) I should be able to swing both Gulf War and the trip to Australia, then recover in time for Pennsic again in summer. I have come a long way from just trying to stay up at least 6 out of every 24 hours. Maybe next year I will have even less anxiety.
TL;DR: went to war, had less anxiety than anticipated, bought a tee shirt. Will go again.
What’s Your Fucking Problem?
