By ALLY BURTNER

Turret Staff Writer

The battle was straight from medieval times. An open field surrounded by woods, knights representing two kingdoms lunging and slashing at each other with swords, spears, and knives. The clanking of armor and shields sounded as though the movie “300” was playing in the background. Bodies stumbled and staggered to the ground. The victorious army is chanted and cheered for by fair maids and damsels.

The forces of the Middle Kingdom and the Kingdom of Meridies, along with their royalty, met once again for the 36th annual Border Raids, at Fort Knox’s Camp Carlson.

Of course, the knives, spears, and swords were nothing but rattan wrapped in duct tape. The shields were plywood and cardboard. The Middle Kingdom is nothing but several states, including Kentucky, which creates a separate land from the other kingdoms. And the Kentucky Norse royalty—King Syr Lutr Uflskjald and Queen Tessa of Middle Kingdom—are merely everyday people, Leonard Albright from Lexington, a Toyota Motor’s assembly worker and his wife Shelley, a stay-at-home mom.

While becoming king is an honor and accomplishment, it was more for “my lady,” said Albright, “she does a lot of work raising three boys, and I thought making her queen would be a great thank you.”

Border Raids—the meeting, the war—although bloodless and harmless, is a historically-based, re-created medieval spectacle staged by the Society for Creative Anachronism, a 42-year-old non-profit organization created in Berkeley, Calif., with 30,000 members worldwide and twice that number of participants.

Handmade glasswork, leatherwork, and costumes are displayed in the organization’s Arts and Science competitions, judged by members. Skills and creative talents are further displayed through calligraphic scrolls handwritten by masters of the craft, needlepoint, medieval dance, and armoring, which can be sold, admired, or traded.

But such activities and festivities are sideshows to the main events—fencing, dueling, and battling.

Prior to all the matches is a brief meeting where the earl marshal reiterates the rules and regulations. A collective grunt is heard from the combatants, as though to say “We get it, let’s rumble.” But what is commonly heard from the warriors is “We don’t want to hurt our friends, we just want to kill them.”

The wars, battles, and duels are taken very seriously. On the field the warriors defend the honor of their king and queen, the honor of each warrior’s “lady.” The member’s rank, from page to king, is determined in true medieval style—combat.

Few serious injuries result from the competition. Although armor is worn by all participants, most of it is homemade, some with household materials. The suits of armor can range in detail and weight—some leather swatches tied together, steel gas canisters made into helmets, football pads, chain-link suits. Some can weigh as much as 50 pounds. Other suits are made of metal, plastic, or pillows and blankets. But all suits sport all have individual embellishments which symbolize households, loyalties, and honors awarded.

The gatherings feature medieval pavilions right out of “A Knights Tale,” Viking tents, even a gypsy wagon. SCA members find their “Knowne World” and their take on the Middle Ages fascinating with many pointing out that their way of re-creational combat is how the era “ought to have been.”

“It’s what we call the dream,” said Crimthann, also known as Chad White, a military intelligence-trained Soldier assigned to Fort Knox. “You don’t feel like you’re in the 21st century anymore, you feel like you’re back in the time period (Medieval era).”

White has been a member of the SCA for two years, and is a part of the Ring Tribe from Middle Kingdom (Kentucky). He attends as many events as possible, which many times include functions in other Kingdoms, thanks to the Army TDY orders sending him to many places.

“Because there are kingdoms all over the globe, (19 kingdoms covering the U.S., Canada, Europe, Asia, South Africa, and Australia), I can always find a member’s house to stay or eat at or a friend to lend a hand,” White added.

While members and participants create names and personas fitting for the time period they wish to represent, many do not frown upon modern technology. Cell phones are still carried everywhere, voicemail checked regularly. Indoor plumbing is a necessity, along with showers and air mattresses. Then there are the authenticity mavens, the ultimate enthusiasts, who make sure they wear nothing but the most authentic garb, eating nothing but the period-correct grub and speaking only in correct manner.

Although an SCA gathering may seem like a Renaissance Festival—and there are similarities—the main distinction is that almost everything the SCA and its members do is historically-based.

Instead of employing a Lord of The Rings and Harry Potter fantastical approach to the Middle Ages, the SCA represents more of a “300” meets

“The Vikings” and with a touch of “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” You won’t find any dungeons or dragons, nor are there hobbits or wizards with magic wands.

The SCA is considered to be an educational organization, one that stands for more than just fun and games. Members strive to learn about the clothing of the period, then create and wear it themselves. They learn about weapons and styles of combat, how to make their own wines, meads, and beers, and pass on the knowledge to friends, family, and newcomers.

SCA members range from doctors and lawyers to retail sales representatives, department store managers, and members of the U.S. military.

“Military people are more history-minded,” said Sir Omarad, known as Paul Newton, “We (the SCA) have a lot of servicemen.”

The proceeds from Border Raids at Camp Carlson were donated to the local animal shelter Home at Last.

The next local event for the Middle Kingdom and SCA is the Baronial Championship, scheduled in Louisville Oct. 11. Following that will be one in Bedford, Ky. on Oct. 25-26. For more information, check out www.sca.org.