Picture by https://instagram.com/bentonconnor/

The Documentary Maker- They take “pics or it didn’t happen” to the logical conclusion, and spend more time with a camera in hand than a sword. Maybe they’re keen to promote the club on social media, maybe photography is their passion and HEMA is an interesting subject, maybe they just have an addiction to selfies. You wouldn’t mind so much except that you’re always just out of frame, and just one identifying shoe in the corner of the shot gets tagged on FB to rub it in.



The Crossover Thrasher- They have a serious background in another martial art. They wrestled to all state level, fenced for their university, or in extreme cases are international ballroom dancing champions. It’s depressing how easy they make the relevant parts of training, whether hip throwing you before you’d finished your salute, tagging you with a lunge that you swear began in the changing room rather than on the piste, or just owning the footwork drills. You feel a strong sense of schadenfreude when they struggle with another area of the art though.

Cohen the Barbarian - Age is just a number, and they get free bus travel to and from training. This silver haired swordfighter is determined to not just keep up with the young ones, but leave them eating dust. The instructor may occasionally step in and remind them that they’ve had two hip replacements and a pacemaker, and perhaps don’t need to set the club record for switch lunges. But the instructor will not be heeded. Sometimes you can get bonus anecdotes of “machete fights I witnessed in PNG in the sixties”.

Professor von Newb - Perhaps they’ve just found the ARMA website, or maybe spent three days watching youtube monologues. Whatever the source, they’re now full to bursting with amazing HEMA information that all their training partners must hear about. You don’t want to be nasty, but you have read or heard it before, they’ve misunderstood some, and some theories they repeat are out of date or just stupid. But they’re so enthusiastic, can you really kick the puppy?



The Were-Fencer - They have other commitments, whether it’s family, job, international art theft or a serious World of Warcraft habit. The effect is that they train once a blue moon. It’s about the same schedule you wash your fencing jacket on, in fact. Some are actually making surprisingly good progress - try to extract the secrets of their solo training!

The Long-Distance Fencer - You’re actually the closest HEMA group to them. It’s only an overnight bus ride away! There’s always someone who knows that they want to do HEMA, and isn’t going to let geography or practicality stand in their way. Can be identified by an accent from a different region, a permanent limp from holding the gas pedal down for hours, and asking if anyone wants to go grab dinner after training, and grabbing breakfast to go…



The Great Stink - In the Summer of 1858, London shut down due to the smell coming off the Thames. This person does their best to shut down fencing opponents in a similar fashion. It’s a combination of a pack of unfiltered cigarettes smoked just outside the hall, a jacket that can assume vom Tag without anyone wearing it, halitosis to make the Listerine corporation jump for joy, and bad aftershave covering all the above like fishnet stockings on a hairy leg. Do: Use langort, you want them as far away as possible. Do not: Einlauffen, you don’t want to risk your mask mesh corroding.



The Stranger in a Strange Land - They’re in love with HEMA. The issue is that they’re in love with a different tradition to the one your club practices, but it scratches the itch for now. Savolio supporters training Silver, Fiore-ists practicing their Winden, I.33 partisans with sideswords in their hands - desparate times call for desperate measures, and some fencing is better than none. Look out for completely unexpected techniques appearing from no-where once freeplay mode is engaged. And try to ignore the muttering about “Zis is not how Master Liechtenauer vould handle zat!