A)

>whomekathryn@Lloyd.Snadhhflleghorphe.EDU>
03/09/99 12:25pm >
>
>
>no no, I haven't registered it or anything, I just sent in the SCA
>membership form and popped that on the "SCA name" spot. It came back to
>haunt me on the card I got in the mail. But I haven't officially submitted
>anything yet, have I?

Ah, no . . . and now that I wake up further and remember that there Is a bureaucracy that deals with paperwork and forms and isn't heraldry; of membership, registration, and awards, in the SCA at least, they're three entirely different areas. Three different people can go all out in one of these and over the years have Nothing to do with the other two areas . . . Yes, if you get Arms and other major awards, it can get Strongly Hinted that you should also register . . . but I got that for being a herald . . . .

Felix

>Y'Knowe Herre---mom@Major.Medievality.ORG--
03/09/99 01:29pm
>
>
> At 01:12 PM 3/9/99 -0800, you wrote:
> Are peers required to be paying members, or are administrators just
>required to be?

Officers are required to be members. Fighters/consorts in Crown/Coronet are required to be members.

--- e

C)

Urg the Sithyann (sic, occasionally with one N) of the Iron Staff;

Wanders into the SCA 'cause he's allowed to hit people. At fighter practice, notes that there are rules and regulations regarding this hitting, starts looking them up so that he can hit people better. Since his mundane job has him travelling a lot, he starts looking things up All Over the place, so that he can hit people there too. Because of his job he is too damn busy to join the Marshallate, but he soon has Marshals across Four Kingdoms turning to him, when he's around, for fine detail interpretations of assorted marshalling rules as well as lectures to larger numbers on same. Soon after that he's dragged kicking and screaming into the Order of the Pelican.

About that time, he settles into a general sequence---work schedule permitting---of fighter practice, minor war, absence due to work, but he caught a major war over thataway, local major war, fighter practice, war, major war, work, war, Pennsic, minor war, work, and about that point is when court is commanded on a rainy battlefield with Two Kings in attendance and he is made a Master at Arms.

While at wars and such, his idea of nighttime entertainment is to get roaring drunk and improvise flawlessly accented and phrased period back-country Turkish war chants, and, as a branch off from that, wanders into Viking saga. He soon has a small collection of PhD candidates in ethnohistory and obscure bardic studies following him from event to event, some of whom, as their own variations, actually become pretty good heralds. Soon after that he's tracked down again and inducted into the Order of the Laurel.

At the beginning of the third battle of Pennsic XXVLMCMXIIVLXIIII, the Lay On is called, the fighters go charging out onto the field, and as one goes face down, flat on his helm, a hold is called. After the chiurgeons assess the situation, the hold is left in place for the day; the fighter is Urg, age 67, who's dropped in his tracks, dead of a heart attack.

His funeral the next morning is attended by the entire Board of Directors and the Royalty of eight kingdoms, three sets of which are Monarch And Consort fighters, all six of whom have been personally knocked ass over teakettle by Urg's polearm At Least once.

And at no time is he ever a member of the SCA, and the closest he ever gets to a herald is one badly hungover 7:00 AM shout.


Emma Myrtlewood of Crowne Abbey, Per chevron argent and sable, a cross azure and a nun overall Or;

Her boyfriend at the time likes this sport where he can hit people, so she goes in to take a look at this Stuff. There are some other people nearby with all this paperwork, so she goes flipping through some of it 'cause it's neat, and fills out a set as advised by three Kingdom Principal Heralds, and the whole set gets passed without any published unusual complaint or commentary. Of course, what with Urg's work schedule and such, and raising little Joe, she actually doesn't make it to too many events over time, averaging maybe one every three or four months over the many years.

With her extremely irregular attendance, it's unlikely that Any officers or Crowns ever hear of her, except extremely in passing, and, well, little Joe is getting The Page, after all, and they don't need Two copies . . . .


Jovian Starfield Ptnechiloshoviliashkeneshck, AKA "Joe";

Son of Urg the Sithyann (sic, occasionally with one N) of the Iron Staff and Emma Myrtlewood of Crowne Abbey, Per chevron argent and sable, a cross azure and a nun overall Or, born 5/16/82, joins the SCA, West Kingdom, 7/3/82. He attends some combat events with his parents, Urg's work schedule permitting. He does show a facility with some of the early boffer competitions and Pied D'Argents, but soon gets more involved with a neighborhood Karate Dojo and it's logical extension into the ballet studio that the Dojo is renting from. What with daily ballet classes and starting to get into some choreography, it is when he is in college before he is able to do much else, and that much else is to cover his classes in international economics. In time, he chooses to join the Paris Opera Ballet because of his French girlfriend. In more time, his teaching classes there, at the Royal Ballet in London, and, of course, the Kirov, keeps him from making it to events even in Drachenwald. But Every single issue of The Page that is sent to him---or at least is sent in his name---Still winds up totally dog-eared to the point of falling apart.

And his lack of awards extends to not even getting any "Thank you for showing up" danglies, and, like his Father, heralds are just those tabarded noisy guys at events.

Felix MacAvady