#shashka

[telogreika]

Red Army Cossack

[petermorwood]

hello! I was wondering what you would think of this sword I designed for a character. I did some research (though admittedly not a lot) and it's based a bit on Russian and Mongolian styles, as well as just some fun design elements I included like the damascus and jade pommel.

That's very nice, and entirely functional.

While there were historical swords with a single back-guard, my own preference (so take or leave as you please) would be to have a full crossguard, making it look like an Afghani pulwar.

Here's a pulwar with a full crossguard and knucklebow,

Alternately, based on what I'm pretty sure was one of your inspirations, there's the Cossack shashka, which has no crossguard at all.

Side-note with a couple of extra details: the shashka was usually worn edge-up (as shown by the suspension loops) and some went into their scabbards right to the pommel.

Princess Mar'ya Morevna has one in this cover art.

Mick Posen is - IMO, anyway - a Seriously Good cover artist.

:->

[emiliasilverova]

For @mi6-cafe's Moodboard March, here is my first ever moodboard... Janus themed (of course).

That was fun to make 😀

[klaodie]

Oh, back where we left off :

Making the house more lively.

[kultofathena]

Hanwei – Civilian Shashka

Here is an excellent replica of a traditional shaska you would find among the common folk of Caucasus Mountain in the 1700s. Simple, powerful and graceful in the hand for a horseman’s sabre. The smooth wood handle unites your grip to the sword in to one. A brown leather lanyard compliments the design as well as allow extra security while on horseback. The black leather wrapped scabbard features stainless steel accoutrements.

[theghostofdash]

Salamandra Saber concept art

A sword I designed for my concept art class weapons and props portion. I took heavy inspiration from slavic culture, polish sabers, rapiers, and the Cossack shashka sword. The saber was designed for my character Maran a wild sorcerer who's heritage is very heavily inspired by slavic culture. I wished to try and emulate this in the design. the name and iconography of the salamander ties in with the characters heraldry, title, and combat style, as Marans heraldic animal and title is the salamander, which in their society is symbolic of fire, magic, blood, and life.

May 30 2019

[cervenakoviny]

Šaška

Dnes si na paškál beriem železo, ktorým sa oháňal Stepan Voronin.

Vyzerať mohla nejako takto.

Keby však Stepan nepochádzal z kozáckej pevnosti na brehoch Donu, ale z horských údolí Kavkazu, mala by skôr túto podobu.

Rozdiel je v rukoväti - zahnutej a zakončenej malým hákovitým zašpicatením s očkom, alebo rovnej a sploštenej s masívnejšou hlavicou. Okrem toho kaukazská šaška je dlhšia a ľahšia, s menej vysunutým ťažiskom.

A je to práve Kaukaz, kde sa táto zbraň zrodila. Jej názov je odvodený z Adygejčiny/západnej čerkeštiny a znamená dlhý nôž. Čo je pomerne výstižné, keďže šlo o jednosečné zbrane bez záštity s celkovou dĺžkou 80-105 cm. Hmotnosť sa pohybovala okolo 1 kg. Jej najstaršie vyobrazenia nachádzame v Gruzínsku, datované do 17. storočia, najstaršia písomná zmienka je z 1747. Kvôli prekladateľským zmätkom panovalo presvedčenie už o skoršom písomnom zázname, ale považuje sa za vyvrátené. Ďuro s jej chýrnosťou v Kornelovej dobe vlastne troška švindľuje. Je to však dosť na tesno, aby nebolo nemožné, že si ju Stepan osvojil.

(Čerkesie v 1450 a 1750)

Kozácke skupiny operujúce vo východoeurópskej nížinatej stepi ich prevzali od Kaukazských horalov a ďalej prispôsobovali svojím potrebám.

Tie spočívali v boji z konského chrbta, vo výpadoch, pri ktorých nebola dôležitá ochrana, ale rýchly tvrdý úder umožnený ťažiskom priamo v čepeli (niekedy aj ťažším obojstranne (false edge) zaostreným hrotom), v ľahkom úchope, prudkých zmenách smeru a voľnom narábaní s čepeľou počas rýchlej jazdy, v sekaní celým ostrím od špičky po rukoväť, v prehadzovaní z ruky do ruky podľa vývoja boja (u niektorých iných zbraní sú rukoväte striktne pravoruké).

Čím sa líši od klasickej šable?

Tá je síce takisto jednobritá a zahnutá, ale má záštitu, v ktorej sa sústredí aj ťažisko - nie je určená k divokému mávaniu na všetky možné strany za pohybu celého tela, ale k precíznym sekom vedeným rukou po užšie vymedzených dráhach. Zároveň pripúšťa výraznejšie zakrivenie čepele.

Výcvik v narábaní so šabľou je dlhší a náročnejší (koniec koncov, je to zároveň zbraň pre duelantov). Šaška je taktiež lacnejšia na výrobu a zachová si funkčnosť a povestnú vysokú údernosť aj pri nižšej kvalite. Ťažko ju odraziť. Boj možno rozhodnúť hneď prvým úderom.

(Napr. poľská karabela)

Ďalší vývoj

To prispelo k postupnému nahradeniu šable šaškou (respektíve presadeniu kríženca oboch zbraní) v masovej neskoro-novovekej armáde. Po preniknutí medzi kozákov, na Blízky východ, do Poľska a nemeckých dielní (Pasov, vlčia značka), sa totiž stala aj hromadne produkovanou štandardizovanou zbraňou celej Ruskej cárskej armády. Hlavne model z 1834 bol populárny. Manévre popísané v imperiálnych príručkách na jej používanie sa neraz líšia od tých, ktorými sa vyznačovala pôvodná tradícia, ale pri viacerých badať spoločný základ. Šašku si ponechala aj sovietska Červená armáda a to až do polovice 20. storočia, čím sa zo šašky stala najdlhšie užívaná sečná zbraň.

Väčšina zachovalých pôvodných kusov pochádza z 19. storočia a keby Stepan žil vtedy, možno by dokonca nosil silne pozmenenú šašku známu ako dragúnska. (Až sa človek zamýšľa, či ju stále možno volať šaškou, no kým rukoväť je dragúnska, čepeľ ostala šašková) (Áno, dragúnky mali aj v USA za občianskej vojny, jazdecká zbraň)

Zaujímavosti

Nosila sa podobne ako katana. To umožňovalo plynulý sek spolu s vytiahnutím. Dala sa zavesiť aj na plece. Zvykla sa kombinovať s blízkovýchodným nožom kiličom. Traduje sa, že vďaka vyššie zmieneným vlastnostiam čepele bolo možné jedným úderom protivníka aj sťať. Dosiaľ sa s ňou tancuje.

[whiteraven90]

Phoenix's son, Ryan, putting makeup on Phoenix's husband, Griffin :')

Ryan and Phoenix traveled constantly during Ryan's childhood. He was a sullen kid, misbehaved and ran away often. Griffin is the spirit of the emperor of the Karkian Empire - when they were in or near its capital, Ryan often ditched Phoenix to hide at Griffin's place. Griffin had always held onto Ryan and entertained him until Phoenix realized that he's missing and came to collect him.

[yunaisky]

"A beautiful and memorable day"

Finally finish the wedding doodle of them

Aaaa yeyeyeyey they got married now yes!

Hope you like it @ambasingresident our oc are now married

[ambasingresident]

Did a doodle of Vasily and Ellio's future kids and gave them a lore for fun

DESCRIPTION:

Androny (Kōki) and Yevgeniya (Ai) are the adopted twins of Vasily and Ellio. Androny is a gentle and silent boy who tends to be protective to people close to him while Yevgeniya is a strong and firey girl who has a soft spot for people she's close with.

LORE:

Abandoned at birth due to the chaos and war in whats left of the Central Siberian Republic, they never knew who were their parents and spent most of their time in an orphanage. During their stay they were outcasts among the other orphans and were even bullied by them for being different, so they rely only on themselves, each other, and the caregivers in the orphanage. When their orphanage was attacked by a neighbouring warlord, they were forced to hid in the forest and saw their only home looted and the children and caretakers taken by them. With nowhere else to go, they were forced to survive on their own and live in the abandoned orphanage in harsh conditions. When Vasily and Ellio found them in the ruins of the orphanage, they decided to bring them home and adopt them as their kids to give them the love and care they need as their new parents.

Bonus Art:

The Shaska Family

[pattern-recognition]

If you did HEMA what weapon would you do/marry. I think you'd love the romance of the rapier but your gnomish stature compels you to get good at spear.

i think fencing is in every way cooler than HEMA but i’d be lying if i said i wouldn’t try it at least once if i could do it for free. spear would be cool, though a part of me just wants to go wild with a hussar sabre or a shashka to halfway placate my cavalry fantasies

[ambasingresident]

Sick art, thanks again

Hey there, would it be fine if you draw my oc, Vasily and my AU's version of yungaisky's Ellio Ovelot? Scenario is up to you. Thanks.

Idk

[comfortless]

Dungeoneer!König and his gf... I mean, traveling companion

but really this is how most of their practicing plays out. 😵‍💫

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. sliiiight dubcon, breathplay?, masochism (without real injury), masturbation, oral (m receiving), absolutely unhinged “flirting”.

König knows his way around a blade. From the delicate daggers that thieves pluck from cloaks when the chance to strike is opportune, to the curved, dainty shashkas. His favorite would always be the doppelhänder, long things that strike fear into any man who sees it swung toward him. It’s why he chose to pay good money for one now, tossed a sack of gold at the blacksmith’s feet and demanded to have an exceptional blade crafted for him within a fortnight or so.

He really can’t afford to be too choosy nowadays: he doesn’t live on his own anymore. Before, his course was decided by tattered parchment pinned to whichever acceptable sliver of wood a wandering messenger could find. Now, it’s dictated entirely by the little knight who parades around like the finest tease in all the land. Even the world, he would gamble.

She whispers molten sugar into his ear on nights she’s drunk, lonely or especially sympathetic. Perhaps all three. She climbs into his bed: a tattered, linen sheet on the rough, cold ground most nights. Sometimes, it’s softer, a feather-stuffed mattress at an inn. Those always reeked of sin. Something carnal right where a couple must have lain together only a night prior, yet to be drowned out and washed away in the streams by some hapless innkeeper. It’s all went to his head, more than a little.

The lady knight sits across from him, tapping the rim of her mug of ale with such disinterest on her face that it’s König who feels sympathetic now.

She chose this tawdry place. Chose to don some silly armor and pretend it’s taking her to kneel in service to the King. The jobs never dwindle, but the motivation does. She never knows what she truly needs, but König always seems to.

“You want to fight? Me?,” she asks, to the wooden table rather than to him. Sluggish and gloomy with her own disappointment in this place, her own perceived shortcomings, something that he can’t fix. The King should have his head on a spear for not giving her everything she’s ever asked for, woman and benevolent thief or not.

“It has been a while, hm?”

She nods once, curls her mouth into a subtle smile that sends his heart swooping and something stirring down below.

“I suppose I’ve gotten comfortable.”

He knows well enough that he can make her less so, always seemed to with his groping and hovering. Even if she’s fed into it, a moth to flame, he’s never seen her bed anyone this entire aimless journey. It’s the rush of adrenaline that sends fire into her belly, makes her eyes shine and her legs tremble each time, never the flirtations.

König’s yet to win a bet, but this time he would wager that playing nice won’t grant him a thing. It never has with what’s dwelling in each dark corner of the kingdom’s underbelly, and it never has with her.

So when the sparring begins this time, it’s real.

The look of shock and betrayal comes immediate when she’s easily knocked back, her blade landing in the grass at her side.

“Again.” And again, and again, she says it as though the exhaustion isn’t already evident in the way her breathing grows heavy. Each time it’s the same, because the only thing he holds back from is severely wounding her. Even if he could, even if he knows roughing her up a bit is just how this should go.

“You are tired,” he observes, cocking his head to the side as she scrambles to search for her sword beneath the dim light of the moon. “Do you need a break, little knight?”

The look she shoots him is something akin to scandalized. König’s never been the one to taunt her like this. It’s new and tentative, and he prays it’s something she likes. The dresses and sparkling gifts from the dungeons did fuck all for any sort of progression, and by the end of the night she would know how dull all of this has become to him, too.

“I am not—“ A parry, a feint, a jab that lands on the air rather than striking true. Not enough. “I’m fine.”

It’s never been in this impromptu plan to shove her down, but that’s what happens when she doesn’t take it seriously. She moves towards him again. Steel clatters against steel, sinks forgotten into the grass. With a hand adhered to the back of her thigh and another at curve of her back, he drops her down too. No briny sweat clings to his temple, all of this is more simple than even the training he had as boy.

She doesn’t even kick at him, docile as any doe when she makes the assumption that all of this is playing pretend. Just another game: he’s less fit to be a monster than even the weak things dwelling in the dark in her eyes.

“I do not want your mercy,” he growls against her neck, weaves his fingers into her hair and tugs her head to the side. Just a little. Just enough. “Be sincere. Hurt me.”

“What are you talking about?” Her voice is a mere peep, lost to the wind that whips by and tousles all but the man affixed to her.

Explanations have never come easy for König. Not with words, not even with letters. He’s killed men without telling why, left wandering ghosts and their wives bereaved time and time again. It’s not something worthy of an answer, nor a thing he ever thought she would even ask. It’s never questions with her: only orders. Even a tamed horse can lash out, kick its master right off to trample if it sees fit. König is no different.

He licks a stripe up her throat, relishes in the way her breath catches and her hands rise to dig nails into his arms. His teeth catch right along her jaw, inhales against her cheek, and when she grows tense below him, claws her way down to his forearms, he knows she’s finally well aware of how this ends.

His hands study the expanse of her body, fisting the linen of her tunic upward to reveal all soft flesh and no more tricks. There’s an aching bruise on her neck, chest, below her ribs before the knight finally presses her palm to his forehead and kicks a rib to wind herself away.

“You’re so…” The word she searches for dies on her tongue when she scrambles over him, feels how greedy he truly is when his hips tilt skyward and the throbbing erection presses against her rear.

“Stupid, hm? Say it.”

She curls a hand around his throat and squeezes, her eyelids sinking to shield the dazed glimmer there as he slips a hand into the front of her trousers. A callused thumb brushes over her clit before drifting further, down where he realizes that he’s found a new treasure. She’s already wet.

“You are. Big fool. Brute..,” she grits out, delivers another blessed press of her hand. All another feint, because she remains stationed above him. Even mimicking the groan that rattles his throat beneath her palm with a sigh of her own. “I could kill you. You know that I…”

The knight dips her head to press against his chest as he spears a thick finger into her, and a greed surges through him at this sudden compliance. Poor thing is so winded that she does little else than blanket him and shiver whilst he grins as though he’s devil-possessed or the luckiest filth in the world. The thought of her fitting any cock- let alone his- seems unimaginable, so obscenely tight as she squeezes around one digit that it pulls even an appreciative grunt from him.

“You could try it.”

Her fingers dig into the skin at his neck, and none of it is enough. She’s so gentle with him, because maybe she even believes that she could. Killing wild men without masters or loyalties, just like the men in the stories she fancies. König guides a hand up to help her, presses down around his throat with more ferocity as she lifts her head and stares down at him like he’s truly gone mad.

“You want a leash..?,” she huffs, pretends she isn’t leaking onto his hand.

“Only if this—“ Another finger, a deliberate curl of both as they press to something soft deep inside of her. Something that makes her whimper rather than bark. “—is holding it.”

She only looks at him, sulky and humiliated when she’s pleasured, stumbles over some other mumbled insult as her back begins a slow arch. He guides his hand back to her thigh, pets along her softness and watches her with such adoration, a pleased purr rumbling in his chest.

“Look at you… cute thing.”

“Not a thing.” Her hissing only further goads him, because she does nothing to pull away, can hardly meet his eyes even with fire and hatred on her tongue.

“Ja… meine dame, is that right?”

Her breath catches as she grinds herself where she’s been impaled, legs trembling as his thumb brushes over the bud in repetition. It’s too soon, but he allows her to have her rapture, gaze drifting from her hair to the curve of a hip as her cunt gives a greedy pulse. All armor is shredded and ripped away, no defenses, catapults or blades, all are exchanged for soft cries and a burning ache. The hurried breaths she takes come almost stilted as she gives his fingers another generous squeeze, and he only feeds them into her with unhurried hunger.

“I want to feel it,” he huffs into her hair, savors the way she tightens the grip around his throat until his voice fetters to a whisper. “Just once, please.”

“No… not..,” is all she manages before the wave reaches the shoreline and she unravels over him. He feels the walls of her cunt throb as her head ascends to his shoulder, burying herself there in shame or bliss. The orgasm is soon but drawn out, some pent up need finally freed to open air, the very same longing that remains prevalent and urging inside of him. He fucks her through it with a bitter fervor, spearing and scissoring the fingers inside until her thigh draws up from around him and she detaches entirely to sit up at his side.

König is quick to rise before her, already untying the laces of what keeps him from the hope of sharing that same rapture she must have felt. The little knight only stares up at him with perplexed curiosity as his cock springs free, thick and long and angry after so many long months of suffering a callused fist or neglect. The tip drags over the seam of her lips as he takes the base of it into his palm, and the drooling maw above her only groans at the barest sensation.

“I will bite it off,” she declares, follows it up with a charming grin as though she hadn’t bruised him deeply hundreds of times prior to this.

“Ja, after… I don’t care.” And of course he does, but this is the closest he’s gotten to anything and he would be a fool not to take it, teeth or not.

She swallows pensively, then rolls her tongue over the slit of the enraged weapon in her face. Beads of salt aren’t fitting for a woman’s tongue, he knows, feels horribly dirty and miserable at the sight for a mere second before she takes him in earnest. Her lips wrap around him, send sparks of the purest euphoria through him.

“Is this how to shut you up, meine dame?”

Everything is gilded gates and ethereal meadows, the only damnation he suffers is the fact that he can’t move without bruising her: too big to feed himself down her throat, too untamed to hold himself steady should she ever allow it. He settles for her pace, watches in wonder as she allows half of him to reach into the warmth of her throat. The panting beast above her curls his hands into fists at his sides, certain that touching her would be the end of this boon of fortune.

Her tongue flicks over the weeping tip each time she draws back, hands grasping at his thighs to keep herself upright. Even when her teeth graze over the sensitive flesh, the cock in her mouth only twitches in agonized bliss. He melts before her, trembling in such pleasured fury that his nails threaten to break through the hardened skin of his palms.

“Ha… I need to… I’m going to come.” Only then does he reach for the back of her neck, forcing her in place to bear the taste of what’s to come. She doesn’t fight it, gazes up with a furrowed brow and delivers the gentlest bite along him. A warning or a dare. “Next time will be… fuck…”

Her titan crumbles before her as though wounded, can’t keep his hands in place then as he grasps at her face and his body grows taut. His hips press forward only to stutter as he tries in earnest to keep himself somewhat contained. She gags quietly when the thick ropes of seed meet the end of her, abrupt but as endless as the broken, pitiful noises that rise from his chest then. It’s miraculous how she swallows it all, bitter and hot as it spills in generous spurts.

It’s he who pulls back, giving the cock already softening a few more pulls before collapsing in front of her with acute love tucked away behind the glassy blue of his eyes. His little knight could feign indifference all she liked, but even those pretty tavern wenches and noble pricks she bats her lashes at could never have had a taste of what had just occurred here.

She wipes away spit and come with the back of her hand, tries her best to shoot him a look of disgust, but König does not miss the way that her eyes seem to twinkle in the same way his do now.

“I want to taste you, too,” he rasps, chest still rising and falling with rushed intakes of air. Even after he can’t keep himself from ruining any bit of sanctity or sanity within reach. Punctuates his statement by reaching toward her again, only to be pulled into the comfort of an awkwardly positioned embrace. His face lands against her breasts, and though he languidly runs a hand up her back, the other takes a tit. He toys with her in his palm, brushes a thumb over her nipple and rises up to kiss her cheek, silent pleas.

“You’ve had enough fun,” she answers, pulling his hand away with their fingers intertwined.

“You have more than just a mouth.” He flashes her the biggest, wettest puppy eyes he can manage. That may get him a scrap from her plate, but it’s worth nothing here. “I would make a good vater, yes?”

[memories-of-ancients]

Shashka with gilded decor, the Caucasus, circa 1800

from Czerny's International Auction House

[kultofathena]

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A post shared by Kult Of Athena | Swords & Armor (@kult_of_athena)

Find these and more cutting accessories available HERE.

Items used in this video:

Balaur Arms – Shinto Oni Katana

Hanwei – Civilian Shashka

Ronin Katana - Dojo-Pro Model 29

Tameshigiri Tatami Cutting Mat – 36”

Cutting Mat Stand

[ambasingresident]

It's alright, I loved how you drew Vasily in your style! Thank you so much again for drawing him!

[Art Request]

It would be cool and all if you can draw my Russian anarchist bean. Thanks

Sorry this took so long. I'm also sorry I could come up w/ a better post 😅