Artist: Brendan Olszowy

Email: brendan@fableblades.com

Benger, Western Australia 6223

Mobile (Australia): 0411 470 663

(Endless Blue - Sindarin)
Ogruk looked down at the sword hilt sticking out of his chest there was little blood and almost no pain, but all he could think of was how blue it seemed, this piece of metal protruding from his chest reminding him of the Endless Blue sky of a perfect day. (Full Story Below...)

Specification:
Weight: 1760g (3lb 14oz)
Length  - Overall: 1332mm (52.44”)
Length – Blade: 1005mm (39.56”)
Length – Grip: 244mm (9.6”)
Blade Width: 34mm (1.34”) through ricasso > 56mm (2.25”) at the flare
Guard Width: 23cm (9”)
Blade Thickness: 6mm (0.236”) at ricasso > 3.5mm (0.137”) at 2” before tip
Point of Balance: 11cm (4.4”) from shoulder
Centre of Percussion (Blade): ~63cm (25”) from shoulder
Hilt Node of Percussion: 7cm (2.75”) behind guard – at the spacer.
Materials:
Blade: 9260 High Carbon Steel – Oil Quenched and then Tempered twice for hardness ~ 50Rc.
Hilt Furniture: Bronze
Grip: Kid Skin over Eucalypt hardwood core
Acknowledgements:
Bronze Sculpture: Jeffrey J Robinson
Blade design: ANB Designs

Ogruk smiled, “this is going to be a perfect day” he thought. If the ambush went well he could return and challenge Tuuk for the run as chief of the drak valley orcs and take his mate.

All was quiet except for the incessant buzz of flies, not one of the orc's on either side of him was making a sound. Even though they numbered a dozen strong, they were all veterans of similar raids and knew what was expected of them. The sun had passed its zenith and was now behind them and getting low in the sky, making their hiding place nearly undetectable.

Looking down the Valley, all that was visible was a meandering stream closely guarded by a trail of willow trees, coming just around the bend was the lead wagon of the expected merchant train. The dust hung thick in the air as the oxen teams strained to pull the huge wagons up the incline to a cadence of a cracking whips they slowly approached. Ogruk growled low as a warning for the others to stay quiet, as he could feel the excitement building in his warrior’s blood.

Ogruk smashed his club into the skull of the mercenary guard; he could feel the skull cave as the guard fell. Letting out a challenging roar he charged at the guardsmen that were holding his men at bay with their long spears. So far the outcome was good, the merchant’s guards had lost half their number in the first rush of the ambush but were now fighting as a defensive unit and holding their own. Grabbing the leg of a fallen mercenary Ogruk hoisted the body above his head and threw it at the spears causing the line to waver as he smashed left and right making room to get in close.

Kicking a female prisoner to the ground Ogruk looked about, the wagons were his and all his warriors were standing, all were cut and bloody as the fight had been long and hard but they would make it home tonight. Ogruk slammed his fist to his chest and growled low at the captive’s near his feet, who screamed and scurried back into a frightened huddle to get further away from him; they would be tied together and taken back up the valley to be traded off as slaves if they were lucky. The bodies of the fallen would go in the pot for a returning feast.

A commotion at the last wagon drew his gaze to a man running up the trail. The man moved fast, already three Orcs were down and still he came on cutting left to right. Asrack fell with a scream his left leg cut off mid thigh, Joskil raised his club but instead found himself lying of the floor a look of confusion spreading over his face as his entrails spilled to the ground.

They had him surrounded, it would soon be over, but as more orc’s continued to fall Ogruk started to know doubt, cursing as his club missed. He couldn’t see straight. Circling left he made a wild swing but was half blinded by the light as it shone off the sword’s blade. Faster and faster from one target to the next it moved always tasting blood never stopping as limbs went missing and his brothers died. Ogruk realised he was the only one left standing, so with a mighty leap he charged forward with his club held high above his head readying to smash this man to the ground. He stopped short. Suddenly something was wrong. His legs had stopped working and he had a sensation of falling, his great war club slipping from his numb fingers. Trying hard to take a breath that would not come,  Ogruk looked down at the sword hilt sticking out of his chest there was little blood and almost no pain, but all he could think of was how blue it seemed, this piece of metal protruding from his chest reminding him of the Endless Blue sky of a perfect day.