Sauvage Sitdown - A Serious Steel

Being a review of The Lost War by Karl K. Gallagher

Sparks, let’s have some metal on the pipes.

Aye-aye Sir, dropping metal now.

Well, that was interesting Sparks, don’t know why I expected any different from my resident smart ass.

It was supposed to be a weekend of costumed fun. Instead these medieval historical reenactors are flung into a wilderness by magic they don't understand. They must struggle to survive and deal with monsters who consider them prey . . . or worse.

Holy succinct add copy batman. This copy-fu is strong, few will be able to achieve heights of brevity such as these, those that do belong a class above us mere mortals.

Moving on, what about the insides JD, I hear you ask, do they match the outside?

Yes dear readers, yes they do.

And how!

Now, imagining nerds saving the day when suddenly their very particular niche and obscure skills are needed has a long pedigree. Niven and Flynn’s Fallen Angels is just one of many such self-licking ice-cream cones about how gosh-darn amazing the fen are, as is the central conceit Stirling’s Dies The Fire. Look, I liked those, and others, been entertained and flattered by them, but I’ve been to a ‘war’ and I’ve been to war, and they ain’t similar, starting with, three weeks is just us warming up and getting our shit ready, not a whole tour.

Which is not to say that I don’t like the genre, I do, but I recognise it as the wish fulfilment it is. This is fine. But I am happy to say, Our Author avoids many of the worst excesses of self regard on this well trod path. His medieval faire reenactors transported to the other world (yep, here we go again. Hey, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it, and if it sells, don’t fight it.) are far from supermen or even trained fighting men. Nor do they close ranks and conquer the world with ‘serious steel’. No, they barely survive, and that struggle is the fun bit.

I do suppose we are getting ahead of ourselves. Meet ‘Newman Greenhorn’, Newman is Damaged Goods, like many of us, his damage is from not-so-long-ago and ‘downrange’ as we say. Newman wants nothing more than to forget all that in the arms of comely lass, and to make that happen, he’s agreed to accompany his girlfriend to a weekend ‘war’ between two Kingdoms of the not!SCA. It’s supposed to be some comfy glamping with fancy dress and some archery, Newman is a decent bow-hunter, grew up on the farm and all that. He tries his hand at heavy fighting practice, mostly to establish dominance over ex-boyfren, but gets ejected due to throwing ‘micmap hands’ on blondie, not really thinking about it, it just happens. Ex-boyfren thinks he’s going to ring new-guys bell with a behind-the-head wrapping cheap shot and doesn’t even phase new-guy, lol. What, we wailed on each other with pugil sticks for hours, you’re tickling me, but what really concerns the fight marshal is Newman’s obvious PTSD — no, eff that noise, it’s combat stress, calling it ‘PTSD’ just dilutes it — symptoms, so booting the new-guy does make sense here, for everyone’s safety.

Anyway, dominance established, we meet some other interesting characters, help get the tent set up, and eat some sammiches. Oh then a little post-supper recreational Gardnerian Witchcraft, what could go wrong? Well, turns out that our wanna be moon-priestess has a been in contact something more than some pseudo-jungian masonic BS in her dreams. Something older, something eldritch. And one little supercalifragilisticexpialidocious (yeah, that’s right) ritual later and we are elsewhere, over the rainbow, second star from the right and straight on to morning. Oops, we appear to zigged instead of zagging at Albemuth, so sorry, instead of Mr. Tumnus we have… goblins (warning! memetic hazard detected, click at your own risk).

Well, our Author calls them orcs, but as we all should know by now, orcs have pig-faces, so these things are goblins, and the bigger ones are hobgoblins. Yes, I am dogmatic about this, this is a hill I will die on. Now there’s a reason for all this but I shant spoil it for readers. Nor should my referential links give you the wrong idea, this doesn’t turn into ‘rip and tear until it is done’, this turns into a pioneer story of almost starving to death, repeatedly, with occasional brushes with hostile natives. Hostile, reproduces by laying parasitical live young in you, natives. Yeeeeeeeeah. Let’s bring this one back.

Our Newman has to step up and teach the nerds how actually hunt instead of loosing arrows at static targets at known distances. Stalking isn’t as easy at it looks in the movies you know. Of course it’s harder when there are rhinos and dragons in the forest in addition to the deer, not to mention the, you know, gobbers. Turns out Girlfriend remembers how to make a fishing weir, which is a rather efficient use of labour, time, and limited resources. So they’re not starving, barely. Only problem is the King and Queen of the War have seemingly turned into haughty disney villain stereotypes of mustachio-twirling ebul aristos. And it turns out there’s a reason, some of our transported players at history have gained forms of magic from the deal, and one of them is the mad queen. Can you say petty uses of ‘charm person?’

Inside these pages you will find many meditations on the burdens of leadership, the emotional toll of command and responsibility. What do you do when someone steals food in a survival situation? There are no easy answers. But there are always consequences, even for doing nothing. Tensions with the natives are rising they keep putting their young into everyone of ours that they get their hands on, and the results of that, aren’t pretty. So increased probes and patrols are punched out. Orders from the top, now that the threat is clear is that the only good goblin is a dead goblin, root and branch. So weapons and armour are improvised. Nails are added to rattan. Hides are tanned and rings are sewn on. The few pieces of ‘serious steel’ become like unto magic weapons. But there’s always consequences, remember? For every action, and equal and opposite reaction.

The goblins launch a night attack and Newman has to step up and lead men into battle once again, taking whatever the consequences maybe, because the alternative is something far, far worse. As I remarked to the Author, Mr. Gallagher on the bird app, ‘Just because you have PTSD doesn't mean the war stops.’ Well, Newman moves out and draws fire, hooah. Forms the boys into a line and marches ‘em a bit, nothin fancy, but in a general disorganised melee, even the slightest bit of tactic beats none at all. And with that Newman is accepted into the hierarchy and is rewarded with a title and a wedding. And that m’boys is how you endeth the lesson.

But JD, enough of all that, Is it worth reading? I hear you asking.

How do I put this? I went and purchased part two and kept reading straight through because I couldn’t put it down.

So… yeah, I’d say so. A fair bit bit yes.

10/10 Hail, and read!

Of all 'is five years' schoolin' they don't remember much

Excep' the not retreatin', the step an' keepin' touch.

It looks like teachin' wasted when they duck an' spread an 'op --

But if 'e 'adn't learned 'em they'd be all about the shop.

An' now it's "'Oo goes backward?" an' now it's "'Oo comes on?"

And now it's "Get the doolies," an' now the Captain's gone;

An' now it's bloody murder, but all the while they 'ear

'Is voice, the same as barrick-drill, a-shepherdin' the rear.

'E's just as sick as they are, 'is 'eart is like to split,

But 'e works 'em, works 'em, works 'em till he feels them take the bit;

The rest is 'oldin' steady till the watchful bugles play,

An 'e lifts 'em, lifts 'em, lifts 'em through the charge that wins the day!

The ’eathen in ’is blindness bows down to wood an’ stone;

’E don’t obey no orders unless they is ’is own.

The ’eathen in ’is blindness must end where ’e began,

But the backbone of the Army is the Non-commissioned Man!

Keep away from dirtiness—keep away from mess,

Don’t get into doin’ things rather-more-or-less!

Let’s ha’ done with abby-nay, kul, and hazar-ho;

Mind you keep your rifle an’ yourself jus’ so!