Renaissance Babes

How I am Helping Fight the SOPA Bill

2012-01-18T09:10:00.000-08:00

Huzzah, friends!

Across the Internet, website big and small are shutting down today to protest SOPA – the Stop Online Piracy Act.

Renaissance Babes will be joining them – but instead of shutting down for just a day, RennBabes.com will be shutting up shop (in its present form, at least) for the foreseeable future as a result of the proposed bill.

Why? Because Renaissance Babes is part of the problem, not part of the solution.

The lovely Liat let us use her beautiful photos

Back when I started this website, I realized that there was a huge online niche for pictures of beautiful girls in Renaissance Faire outfits – and I delivered what people were searching for. But in order to find this content, I simply scoured Google Image Search, Tumblr blogs and personal websites and copied and pasted what I liked the look of – often without attribution.

I realize now that what I was doing was essentially stealing. When I raided Flickr, especially, I was taking other people's original content – which they'd shot and posted themselves – and using it here for my own purposes and profit.

It was, to a far smaller extent, exactly the behavior the poorly-considered SOPA bill was intended to curtail.

The reason SOPA exists is not to censor the Internet, but to help stop people stealing others creative content and profiting from redistributing it. It's a badly written bill and it has enormous potential to be misused to silence corporate competition – but the issue from which it stems is real and Renaissance Babes is the very epitome of it.

This isn't a decision I've reached overnight. In fact, my infrequency in posting is partly a result of the internal conflict I've have regarding the ethics of running this website in its current format. I even attempted to change my evil ways; by posting original pictures, with attitubution, which I'd previously aquired permission to use.

But that's difficult, and time consuming, and less rewarding and profitable than just stealing stuff from other people's websites and posting it here. Which is why I've got to stop.

Perhaps down the line, Rennbabes.com will be back in a format that delivers the content visitors want in a format that's honest and ethical to produce. But until then, I'm laying down tools and doing my bit to fight bills like SOPA – by no longer contributing to the piracy and theft that it is intended to curtail.

Friends, if you too want to stop the passage of SOPA, you should look first to yourselves before you look to your congressmen or women. You can make a start by not bittorrenting movies and music illegally. You can make a start by paying for software instead of copying it from your friend. You can make a start by creating original artwork and copy to post on your website and tumblr, instead of just stealing other people's.

We are as much to blame for the existence of SOPA as the record companies and movie studies. It's time we acknowledged that and acted appropriately.

Hope to see you again, my friends – under better circumstances.

Hail and well met!

The Squire

squire@rennbabes.com

White Rabbits!

2011-12-01T13:21:00.001-08:00

Huzzah, friends!

Back again I am, with another bevvy of beauties for your pleasurable perusal. Sadly the climate across much of the New World is not longer conducive to curvy wenches in wondrous bustiers and corsets - but hopefully these gorgeous renaissance girls will warm your cockles until spring is upon us once again.

Hail and well met!

The Squire

squire@rennbabes.com

More comely wneches!

2011-10-27T18:03:00.001-07:00

Another post of Renaissance Faire Wenches

2011-10-26T14:18:00.000-07:00

Huzzah, friends!

Time to stiffen the sinews with another selection of salacious, saucy wenches!

Hail and well met!

The Squire

squire@rennbabes.com

The end of summer

2011-10-07T12:19:00.000-07:00

Hail and well met, friends!

Has been far too long since my last update, but hopefully this meager offering of wonderous renaissance faire wenches and renaissance fair babes will appease your wrath.

Each busty renaissance babe featured here worthy of note; with renaissance cleavage that bards will sing songs about long into the future.If you'll notice a theme, it's green - a fitting end to the fertile summer season that saw so many renaissance beauties grace faires and events across the country.

Stay tuned! I hope to have more updates soon,

Huzzah!

The Squire

squire@rennbabes.com

NY Renn Faire in September

2011-09-13T09:10:00.000-07:00

Huzzah, friends!

Behold another bevvy of Renaissance beauties!

The last three of these shots were taken at the New York Renaissance Faire in Tuxedo Park, NY - a truly beautiful site worthy of merriment and mirth.

Tis truly a wonder to behold and the highlight of each and every year for your humble squire and author.Whether you're a fan of busty wenches, ren faire babes or hot ren faire chicks, the Sterling Forest faire is always the place to find them; and smarter, sexier wenches you'd be hard pressed to meet.

Sadly the season is nearly at a close; but I hope to make it back there at least one more time this summer to bring you a final installment of NY renaissance wenches.

Hail and well met!

The Squire

squire@rennbabes.com

Behold, faire day!

2011-08-18T19:53:00.000-07:00

Huzzah, friends!

Imagine it.

The warm sun smoldering down. The sound of clashing steel and thundering hoofs are in the background. The smell of roasted turkey leg and foaming beer wafts through the air.

There's nothing quite like the experience of the renaissance faire - and the view isn't too bad, either.

In fact, renaissance babes and renaissance beauties are as much a part of the experience as all the other medieval marvels on display. Here are just some of the ones we've had submitted this week. Enjoy!

The Squire

squire@rennbabes.com

Behold the lovely Liat!

2011-08-17T14:37:00.000-07:00

Hail and well met!

As a special treat, may I present you all with the authentic rennbabe beauty Liat! This smoldering brunette isn't just a comely costumed maid; but an actual performer from the New York Renaissance Faire, being held right now in Tuxedo, NY.

And while Liat is clearly a feast for the eyes, there's a lot more to her than just those legendary looks. As befits a buxom renaissance beauty, she's also a fiendish wit and an archer of no small repute (as you can see from the pictures below.)

In short, the quintessential Renaissance Babe; the total package.

And we're incredibly honored to feature this winsome wench on the (digital) pages of Renaissance Babes. We hope this little taste of the life of Lita will inspire you to follow her antics both home and away from The Shire by following her on Twitter.

Liat! We salute thee!

The Squire

squire@rennbabes.com

What hast thou requested from The Google?

2011-08-17T13:32:00.000-07:00

Huzzah good people!

Long overdue is another installment of wonderous wenches and doxy damsels spotted at renaissance faires across this great land. Through the sorcery of statistics counters, I know what thou art seeking in your visitations to this humble blog; and therefore am happy to oblige.

Verily, I doth give you the feast of "hot wenches", "ren faire chicks" and "renaissance babes" that thou has requested from The Google. Sorry not to be able to oblige with "hot female auto mechanics" but somewhere on the Interwebs I am certain doth lie a site that caters to thine pandering.

And stay tuned! Today's post is but the start. We are receiving a veritable avalanche of submissions recently, and hope to be posting each and every one as we celebrate the height of the renn faire season.

Hurrah!

The Squire

squire@rennbabes.com

Oversight!

2011-08-14T17:33:00.000-07:00

Love wenches with authority? Then you should hurry forthwith to the website of her ladyship Rica Mendes - a LiveStrong leader who inspires those around her without having to wail: "Off with their heads!" to convince them!

(And, frankly, we suspect that's the major reason Hilary Clinton lost the 2008 Democratic primary.)

This ravishing renaissance babe bid farewell to her natural endowments in her battle against cancer - but she is now still raring to go and inspiring others to do the same. And in our books, whether ye be a bosumy beauty or otherwise, it's pluck, spunk and grit we find most alluring in a wicked wench.

So here's a salute to this awesome lady; a picture she posted bidding her natural bosum farewell. We're just glad Rica's still around to share it. Huzzah, you wonderful woman!

New York Renaissance Faire Opens

2011-08-14T09:03:00.000-07:00

Huzzah! Hail and well met, fellows!

Of all yeRenaissance Faires I've attended, my favorite has always been the most excellente New York Renaissance Faire. To be found in the wild woods of Tuxedo, NY, yon fair is beautifully situated in some of the most stunning forestland of the New World - it doth have all the saucy wenches, cold beer and fiery medeival action you could ever want!

Alas, my brethren and I missed the opening weekend of yon momentous annual event - but hail! Here verily be some snaps courtesy of his lordship, the talented NJ/NY photographer Ken Lig. A thousand thanks, good sire.

Do this unwitting donator of photos a solid, my friends. Busy yourselfs by checking out his blog and Flickr page, and considering him if thou needst an affordable, talented photographer.

Back from haitus!

2011-08-09T21:05:00.000-07:00

Hail and well met, fellows! Renaissance Babes is finally back from hiatus! Shamed into action by my fellow readers, I have once again vested in delving into the deep and murky Interwebs to pluck forth the finest pictures of wonderous wenches and comely kittens known to Renn Faireing man.

Wenches are Worthy of Respect

2011-08-04T14:48:00.000-07:00

Hail and well met, my fellow Renaissance Babe aficionados!

I'm going to take a break from the usual display of wonderful wenches and comely courtesans to talk seriously about something: Respect.

I recently started reading the blog of a rambunctious maiden working at the New York Renaissance Faire, who complained that because she wore corsets and had a cleavage worthy of song, was often the brunt of slurs and slights as to her character and conduct.

I'd just like to make it very clear that while we at Renaissance Babes celebrate the female form, we never pass judgement because of it - and we do not tolerate those who might slander or defame the women we feature here just because they might dress or speak provocatively.

In fact, that's why they're so awesome. That's why we love them, and why we celebrate them!

At Renaissance Babes, we worship wanton wenches, mischievous maidens and licentious ladies - and while we must seem to occasionally objectify them, we do it with only the utmost of love, respect and affection. If it wasn't for these radiant creatures, in their corsets and comeliness, websites like this would not exist; and our lives would be less for it.

So please, come and celebrate this wonderful women here on Renaissance Babes - but whether you're just looking at their pictures, or meeting them in the flesh at the faire, make sure you ALWAYS treat them with the respect they deserve.

Ladies of the faire - we salute you!

More Heaving Bosums!

2011-08-03T06:58:00.000-07:00

Further Mammary Magnificence from m'lord Peter Poncho, taken during the 2008 Hebron Renaissance Faire.

Heaving Bosums!

2011-08-03T06:54:00.000-07:00

Acclaimed Renaissance Babe follower Peter Poncho kindly sent in this collection of snaps he took during the 2008 Hebron Renaissance Faire - in a little event they called the "Bodice competition." We approve!

Costumes

2010-05-12T06:47:00.000-07:00

A while ago, Eric commented on this blog about why to steer clear of shop-bought 'costumes' when prepping to attend a Renaissance Faire.

"Costumes are made from material that's cheap, flimsy, unattractive, hot and uncomfortable. Costumes are made to wear for an hour or two indoors, not for walking all over the place over an entire day in the elements at a local ren fest."

While it's true that most costumes bought from places like Party City are better suited to Halloween than the rigors of a historically accurate Renn Faire, one reason why people keep sticking to them is that they're affordable.

It's difficult to argue with something like Moon Costumes' Female Renaissance Peasant costume, which includes a blouse and cummerbund; making a light and affordable costume for under $40. For people attending fairs once or twice a year, that's a modest investment to make.

But if you're interested in the Renaissance Lifestyle as more than just a passing fad, it is worth creating a 'proper' costume all of your own. After all, part of the thrill of attending a 'fest is to create a new, medieval persona for yourself. Your costume should be as individual as your character.

Eric says that it's not that expensive to put together a passable 'real' costume:

"Ladies have it easy, needing only a circular skirt, an appropriate shirt/blouse, leaving the only specialty item to be purchased from those that make such items is the bodice. Plenty of quality bodice makers out there."

While it's not always easy to find skirts and blouses in authentic materials - cotton wasn't used as a material until much, much later than the middle ages - most natural fibers are passable and the skirt and blouse I've linked to above are light and breathable; perfect for an entire day spent under the hot sun of a Ren Fest.

Female Farriers

2009-12-07T10:02:00.000-08:00

Back in the renaissance days, people were a lot more self sufficient than they are today.

Contemporary transportation - whether it was a horse, a mule or a carriage - was probably just as likely to break down or go wrong as a modern-day Acura Integra, but you couldn't just take your limping donkey to get 'fixed' because there were no handy 'donkey repair shops' around.

Nine times out of ten, you'd have to do the 'repairs' yourself - which is why most renaissance-era folk had at least a working knowledge of practical horse care and the wherewithal to fix a wobbly carriage wheel (or lords and ladies at least had a member of their retinue who could.)

Sometimes, though, repairs or equine recuperation was more complicated than a handy squire or lady could handle on her own - and just like today - when you can get an oil change, tune up or repair from a local mechanic - you'd be forced to take your limping donkey or wobbly carriage to a local repair shop (albeit not one with a neon sign boasting 'Houston auto repair.')

Farriers and blacksmiths were the Pep-Boys of their day. Not only could they repair carts and traps, and re shoe horses and donkeys - they often had a more practical knowledge about looking after sickly animals.

So in honor of these forerunners to today's auto repair shops, here's a sexy female blacksmith from a recent Texas Renaissance Faire.

Oh, what is going on?

2009-11-12T12:22:00.000-08:00

More unexplained absences - I pray your forgiveness.

Renaissance Babes is in a state of flux, but will return shortly much invigored! Your patience, prithy!

Anacronisms

2009-10-23T13:21:00.000-07:00

One of the thrills of participating in the Renaissance lifestyle is trying to make your involvement as authentic as possible. The commitment to authenticity can vary - from getting the costume right, to actually camping out in authentic medieval style tents.

But as nice as it is to embrace times passed, there are some contemporary compromises even the most dedicated Renaissance Faire attendee has to make.

Glasses, for example. While the short-sighted just made do in the Medieval Era, it's no fun to attend a faire if you can't take in all it's visual splendor (and all those heaving bodices.) This is why you'll see many people wearing the most beautiful costumes, yet anachronistically wearing spectacles.

Watches are less of a necessity, but still an anachronism many attendees are willing to embrace. After all, it's tough to keep track of the jousting, falconry and giant chessboard performances if you're keeping time with a sun dial.

The fact is, a watch is pretty much always going to look out of place with a Renaissance costume - but if that's a compromise you feel compelled to make, it's worth checking out the beautiful timepieces from Michele Watches .

Michele Watches boast that their design philosophy seamlessly fuses timeless elegance with contemporary fashion - which means that while a Michele watch won't quite match your authentically-sourced Renaissance soundtrack, it'll at least keep you on time for faire festivities in style.

The Tumultuous Tribulations of Thomas Titwillow

2009-08-17T10:47:00.001-07:00

This is an attempt at writing Elizabethan erotica. People familiar with Shakespeare or Elizabethan theater in general will probably guess the twist.

The Tumultuous Tribulations of Thomas Titwillow

London, England, in the year of our lord 1597

The Black Lion was one of London’s less salubrious theaters, but a popular and profitable one nonetheless.

Located on the banks of the Thames, some distance from the city walls, it was an open ‘o’ in the same style as the more famous ‘The Theatre’ in Shoreditch (home, of course, to the Lord Chamberlain’s men and their famous playwright, Shakespeare.)

Although The Black Lion made most of its money from bear-baiting and cockfights, they were developing a certain reputation in dramatic circles. Recently, a new addition to their troupe of players had caused quite a stir amongst regular theater-goers.

“Young mafter Thomspon,” wrote Daniel Bellows, something of a wit amongst London’s critics, “is indeed moft ravifhing on ftage, truly becoming the beauties he portrayf.”

The young master of whom he wrote, Thomas Titwillow, was a dashing young boy of almost twenty, who had proven wildly popular onstage, playing some of theater’s leading ladies: the ‘Virgin White Queen’s Pawn’ of Middleton’s ‘A Game at Chess,’ ‘Isabella’ in Kyd’s ‘The Spanish Tragedy’ and, of course, ‘Juliet’ in Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet.’

Titwillow was a fresh-faced young boy, clean-limbed, with sandy blond hair and a without a trace of stubble and beard on his finely-featured jaw. It took just a dab of rouge and color to turn this handsome lad into a beautiful young woman – and a far fairer maiden he made than half of the boys and young men who acted as women onstage.

But Master Tom’s beauty and grace did not appeal to all of the audience at The Black Lion.

“An abomination!” Cried one gentleman, storming from the theater when Tom (as Juliet) kissed another actor portraying Romeo. “It’s obscene!”

“The only thing that’s obscene,” nudged another, more cynical audience member, watching the gentleman march to the exit, “is him realizing he’s pitched a stiff one at the sight of a boy, no less…”

And that, it turned out, was the problem with Tom Titwillow’s magnificent performances on stage. In contrast to the other boys in female roles, young Tom actually looked like a woman. In fact, after a flagon of ale or two, some audience members would confess that he looked like a very attractive woman.

“Those lips could be used for more than just singing,” one reveler sneered, to the disgust of his drinking fellows.

But such bawdy comments continued - and eventually found their way to a man who took such things very seriously indeed – Edmund Tylney – Queen Elizabeth’s Master of the Revels.

On a sunny Monday, Edmund Tylney came marching to the Black Lion, weaving his way through the market stalls and knocking beggars aside with the point of his cane.

He swaggered with courtly arrogance, dressed in his typically gaudy best. Such blatant displays of wealth were not recommended in these days of poverty and plague – but none of the pickpockets or thieves who lurked in the alleyways would dare to endanger such a well known and prominent favorite of the Queen.

Covering his nose with a handkerchief – poor protection against the stench of piss, shit and rot – Tilney paused outside the doorway of The Black Lion and rapped on it mercilessly with the heavy head of his cane. Eventually, it opened. A haggard man was at the door, Simon Hendred, the owner.

“My lord!” He seemed astonished – if not a little frightened – to have the Master of the Revels appear so unexpectedly. “It’s an honor to have you visit my humble establishment!”

“Spare me the bootlicking, Hendred,” Tylney snapped, as Simon bowed obediently and beckoned Tylney inside. “I detest obsequious flattery.“

“My apologies, m’lord.”

“Spare them. Find me a seat and some wine and I’ll be satisfied.”

With a nod, Hendred led the Master of the Revels into his playhouse.

They walked through the open amphitheater, where the players of The Black Lion were rehearsing a scene. Tylney paused as he crossed the pit, peering up at the stage to see if he could see the boy he was here to discuss. Apparently not – they were rehearsing a duel that day.

“Come, my lord. I have wine upstairs, in the Box Office.” They marched upstairs, to Hendred’s dark, cool office.

“Make yourself comfortable, my lord.”

Tylney did exactly that, taking a seat behind Hendred’s desk, clicking his fingers for a pewter cup of wine.

Hendred obliged him, passing the Master of the Revels a measure of burgundy.

“D’you know why I’m here,” Tylney demanded, as he sipped the wine.

“I’m sure I have no idea, my lord.”

“There’s a boy,” Tylney sneered. “One of your players. You’ll know the one - there have been most unseemly rumors abound regarding his performances.”

“Oh.” It was apparent from his reaction that Simon Hendred did know the boy in question – by mention of the rumors alone. “You refer to young master Titwillow, of course?”

Hendred poured himself a bracing measure of wine with an unsteady hand.

“I can’t imagine any rumors, my lord. He’s a most likable boy – and an excellent player. His portrayal of Shakespeare’s Juliet last week was commended…”

“Pfft,” Tylney hissed. “Commended? I heard he was fluffed up like a French peacock and performed most obscenely, no less.”

Hendred blinked.

“O-obscenely, my lord?”

“With his kissing and the fluttering of eyelashes. I have heard reports that some members of the audience found his performance most inflammatory.”

“Well, I can only take that as a compliment…”

“Oh, the interests he inflamed were far from complimentary. Apparently he was so convincing as a maiden that many men found themselves…” Tylney, who didn’t look like a modest man, blushed when he said: “…aroused.”

“Aroused?”

“Exactly,” Tylney spat. “And I’m sure you are aware of what a dangerous condition that can be.”

The Master of the Revels swigged his burgundy.

“The reason, Mr Hendred, that women are not allowed to perform onstage is to prevent inspiring lust and debauchery among the menfolk. By all reports, this Master Tom of yours is so convincing on stage, he inspires that same lust and debauchery, which becomes even more obscene when one considers that it is directed towards a boy, no less!”

There was the enthusiasm of a puritan in his voice when Tylney growled:

“Do not forget Leviticus 20:13, Mr Hendred. Such desires are detestable in the eyes of God!”

Hendred gulped nervously.

“Robert Cecil, of the Queen’s Court, has only just tried a man for sodomy and indecency. Under the rack, no less, he confessed to witnessing a play at this very house just ten days earlier!”

Tylney’s eyes glazed with fanaticism.

“Perhaps it was the wiles of that sordid sockaninny Titwillow which polluted his imagination with such disgusting desires.”

“But my lord…”

“Silence, Hendred! I’m not finished.”

Simon fell still, his fingers drumming the rim of his goblet.

“I like you, Hendred,” Tylney sneered. “Despite being a peddler of bombast. But even so, with such stories about,” the Master of the Revels narrowed his eyes, “I have decided to close your playhouse…”

Hendred’s goblet tumbled to the floorboard. Bankruptcy!

“But my Lord! It’s the height of the season!”

“I have decided to close your playhouse,” Tylney repeated, angrily, “unless I judge for myself that these rumors are just that. Rumors. I may be the servant of decency and the public good, but I am still appreciative of the arts, Mister Hendred. I will give you that chance. Bring that boy to me - so I can appraise the validity of these sordid whispers for myself.”

Hendred nodded. “But of course, m’lord,” he was already half-way to the door. “I will send young Tom up immediately. You will see – there’s certainly nothing obscene about him…”

“Well, hurry up then.”

Leaving the Master of the Revels sitting at the table, Hendred threw open the door and thundered down the creaking steps.

III

There came the sound of boots on the stairs. The door to the office creaked as Hendred returned, dragging behind him a pale boy by one of his willowy arms.

“Here he is, M’lord,” Hendred barked, hauling the youngster into the middle of the room. “Thomas Titwillow, at your pleasure.”

Roughly, Hendred shoved the boy forward, so he staggered across the floorboards and found himself to face to face with the intimidating Edmund Tylney.

From his chair, Tylney peered up at young Tom. He watched boy quivering nervously.

Even dressed in a untidy gentleman’s tunic and leggings, Tylney was immediately taken by the boy’s androgynous good looks. Tom Titwillow was slim and willowy, with a soft, finely featured face and large, pale blue eyes. His blond hair hung in waves across his forehead. He was quite… fetching.

“Ah,” his mouth suddenly dry, Tylney turned to Hendred. “Very good, Mister Hendred. Now leave us – I would speak to this boy alone.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

With a obsequious bow, Hendred retired from the office, letting the door click shut behind him.

That left Tom, standing in the center of the room, his blue eyes wide.

“Don’t be afraid, Boy,” sneered Tylney, leaning back in his chair. He eyed the boy up and down hungrily. “I’m not going to devour you.”

“Yes, m’lord. Erm… I mean, no.”

Tylney sipped his burgundy.

“Calm yourself, boy. Get yourself a glass of wine. Let us talk as if we are friends.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

Crossed the room, the boy lifted the bottle Hendred had left and poured his own measure of wine into a pewter goblet. Turning nervously to Tylney, he raised the cup, toasting him wordlessly.

“A santé,” Tylney smiled, watching the boy’s graceful movements.

Tom gulped down the burgundy nervously, leaving the faintest red kiss on his plump lips as he lowered the glass. As he studied the boy’s mouth, Tylney stirred uncomfortably in his chair.

“So, young Tom,” the Master of the Revels mused. “You are The Black Lion’s star player, I hear. As Juliet, they tell me you were quite ravishing – the illusion of womanhood was said to be complete.”

Tom’s plump bottom lip quivered.

“W-why, thank you, m’lord.”

His voice, like the rest of him, was somewhere between woman and man. Even in his dowdy clothes and codpiece, Tylney could imagine Tom making a most convincing woman.

“Too complete have been some of the accusations, m’boy.” Tylney added sternly. “I’m here to appraise that for myself. Why don’t you turn around. Let me see you for myself.”

Nervously, young Tom did as he was bid. He swirled in a circle, allowing Tylney to study his figure appreciatively.

And appreciate he did. Tylney licked his lips, eying Tom’s tight, pert little backside, snug in his britches.

“Ah yes, I can see why you’re so popular. What a fine young lady you must make onstage.” He wasn’t bad offstage, if initial appearances were anything to go by.

“Very good,” the Master of the Revels sneered. Tom stopped twirling. “Perhaps I could hear some lines while we’re here. What are you rehearsing now, my boy?”

“The Merchant of Venice, m’lord.” Tom answered. “A newly completed comedy.”

“And your part?”

“Portia, my lord. A rich heiress.”

“And her story?”

“She disguises herself as a lawyer, m’lord. To defend Antonio, a merchant, against a vengeful Jew.”

“Read me some of it…”

Talking a deep breath, Tom Titwillow straightened his back and began a speech from memory:

“The quality of mercy is not strain'd. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven, upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.”

“Enough.” His tone was stern, but Tylney seemed satisfied. “You read well, boy. A little too well.”

“T-too well, my lord…” Tom protested. “Have I offended thee?”

“You haven’t offended me at all, boy,” Tylney admitted. “Quite the opposite, in fact. Even disguised as a man, I fear any Portia you played on stage would stir more than just the soul of any man watching.” To emphasis this point, Tylney adjusted an uncomfortable bulge in his codpiece.

Tom’s shoulders fell.

“Then what mister Hendred told me is true. You are to close the playhouse?”

Tylney’s voice softened. He leaned forward.

“Come here, my boy.”

Nervously, the young lad approached the nobleman.

“Sit, here,” Tylney indicated a spot on the floorboards, at his feet. “Make yourself comfortable, lad.”

Cross legged, Tom sat down. He peered up nervously at the stern gentleman.

The Master of the Revels sighed, looking down at the boy.

“I commend your enthusiasm – but my role as Master of the Revels is to uphold decency and protect the public good. How would it be to have you onstage? Inflaming unnatural desires in all men who watch you perform.” Tylney gulped uncomfortably. “After all, you are a boy. You are not to be the object of a man’s lust. Such a thing is an abomination.”

“But my lord,” Tom looked up, his eyes glistening. “If you close the playhouse, how will I support myself? And what of the other players? They have families…”

Tylney was not moved.

“Players are vagrants and vagabonds for the most,” he sneered. “Have them play the inn yards if need be.”

“And as for me?”

That stern expression softened again.

One of Tylney’s calloused hands stretched forward and stroked Tom’s cheek. The boy closed his eyes, feeling the rasp of dry skin on his soft flesh.

“You have my sympathy, boy,” Tylney said soothingly, astounded at the softness of Tom’s pale skin. “But what I do, I do for the common good.”

Tom took a trembling breath. Looking deep into Tylney’s steely eyes, he murmured: “Is there nothing I can do to dissuade you, my lord?”

Tylney felt suddenly hot. The boy’s stare was uncomfortable.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you could possibly offer me…”

Wordlessly, Tom lifted his arms and wrapped cold, slender fingers around Tylney’s wrist. Gently, the boy guided Tylney’s palm from down his cheek until the older man’s thumb rubbed across the boy’s plump, soft lips.

Tylney gasped. He tried to pull away, but Tom kept his grip firm.

“Stay yourself, boy!” Tylney snapped.

But Tom Titwillow didn’t nothing of the sort. Instead, he parted his plump lips and sucked the Master of the Revel’s thumb inside his mouth.

Tylney groaned, suddenly feeling warmth and wetness envelop his digit.

“What in the heavens…”

Tom closed his lips around Tylney’s thumb and sucked, as gently and inexorably as a lamb.

The sensation was divine. Tylney squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. A sudden cramped sensation was filling his codpiece. This boy’s mouth worked as deliciously as any two-shilling whore.

As the boy sucked, his big, blue eyes peered up pleadingly at the Master of the Revels.

Eventually, after lingering seconds, the boy pulled Tylney’s thumb from his lips with a wet ‘pop.’

Tylney gasped in disappointment.

Looking up, still embracing the older man’s wrist, Tom groaned:

“Are you sure, m’lord?”

“Good God,” Tylney sounded horrified, but he didn’t pull his hand away. “You are indeed as debased and lascivious as the rumors suggest. What you are suggesting is obscene! Debauched! An abomination!”

Tom opened his mouth again, sucking Tylney’s thumb inside and lapping it eagerly with his tongue.

The sensation was too much for the Master of the Revels to bear. Almost immediately, he imagined what those lips and tongue would feel like on another appendage – one that was already uncomfortably stiff and swollen.

‘Pop!’ Out came the thumb, glistening with saliva.

“Ah you sure, m’lord?” This time Tom said it teasingly, knowing what the answer would be…

Tylney was mortified, torn asunder by shame and arousal. He couldn’t think clearly with that pulsing, throbbing, aching need building in his groin.

“What you’re doing is wrong, boy…”

“Is it, my lord?” Tom purred, licking his glistening lips. “Just last week, I lay with another man… Onstage, of course – as Juliet. But is that truly any different?”

“B-but you are a boy.” Tylney hissed. “what of Leviticus? ‘If a man does with a man as one does with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable.’”

“But I am a player, my lord,” Tom said soothingly, kissing the tip of Tylney’s thumb teasingly. “An actor. I am whatever you want me to be – boy or woman.”

Desire surrendered to restraint.

“V-very well,” Tylney stammered, gasping as Tom’s other hand suddenly slid hotly up the inner thigh of his britches. “D-do what you must… Do well, and I will leave Mister Hendred’s theater unclosed.”

Tom lasciviously licked his glistening lips.

“Oh, my lord,” he promised. “I can do very well.”

Tom Titwillow engulfed the Master of the Revel’s thumb with his hot, suckling lips.

Tylney gazed down, watching the boy work.

“What a pretty mouth you have, young Tom,” he groaned, feeling the delightful vacuum suck his digit further between those plump lips. “I can see why you must be so popular on stage…”

Tom slid Tylney’s thumb from his mouth and winked.

“I’m even more popular off stage, my lord…”

Tylney groaned, deep in his chest.

“Oh, you little slut,” he purred. “Get up,” he ordered. “On your feet, boy, and turn around.”

Licking his lips, Tom gazed into the older man’s eyes and did as he was bid. Soon the willowy boy was towering over the seated Tylney. He turned around, presenting Tylney with his pert little bottom, squeezed tightly into a pair of britches.

Tom could feel Tylney’s gaze burning into his backside. He wiggled it flirtatiously.

“Good God,” Tylney groaned. “You little whore.”

A moment later, Tom felt something else. Tylney had reached forward and grasped one firm buttock.

Tom smirked, peering over his shoulder at the seated nobleman.

“Does my bum meet with the approval of the Master of the Revels?” He teased. “Is it feminine enough for him?”

Slap! Tylney’s palm landed on Tom’s backside, eliciting a squeal from the boy.

“It’s just further proof why a boy like you is so dangerous onstage,” Tylney gulped. “Your bum’s as firm and ripe as a rosy red apple. The equal of any lady’s rump.”

“Examine them further, if you must,” Tom offered. “But I must ask my lord that my britches stay on – for decency’s sake.”

“Decency!” Tylney scoffed, standing from his chair. “What would you know of that?”

Tylney used one arm to brush the contents off Hendred’s desk. Papers, books and an inkwell clattered to the floorboards.

“Over the desk, boy,” the Master of the Revels ordered. “Stick that arse out, or by God I’ll flog the hide off it.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

Tom hunched over the table, sticking his pert little backside out – presenting it salaciously. Tylney eagerly grabbed the two firm globes and squeezed.

Tom cried out, feeling hard fingers dig into his flesh.

“My lord! So rough!”

“I’m just checking the fruit,” Tylney sneered. “Oh, it’s ripe, I see.”

He stroked Tom’s buttocks through the boy’s britches. “So much like a woman’s.” Reaching up, the Master of the Revels grabbed the waistband of Tom’s britches and gave them a wrench – hauling them halfway down Tom’s arse.

“My lord! My britches!”

“Quiet, boy,” Tylney barked. “You said keep your britches on. I’ve just pulled them down.”

And he had. The pale skin of Tom’s round rump was exposed, two beautiful half moons that trembled with anticipation.

With a hearty ‘slap,’ the Master of the Revels spanked one hard, leaving a perfect imprint of his palm on Tom’s white skin.

“Oh!”

“Oh, yes,” Tylney chuckled. “I can indeed see why men might find the sight of you so inflammatory… In the right light… Why, there’s something undeniably feminine about you…”

Tom’s eyes widened as he heard Tylney hawk a mouthful of saliva into his palm. Then the boy clenched, feeling Tylney’s fingers delve between his exposed buttocks.

“W-what are you doing?” The flirtatiousness had left him. Now Tom was truly anxious.

“Surely you have an idea, my boy,” Tylney leaned forward, breathed hotly into Tom’s ear, crushing his weight into the young lad and pressing him hard against the table. “I’m sure you’re no stranger to this. You’re a player, of course - and a most pretty young man at that.”

Tom quivered. He closed his eyes.

“As you must, my lord.”

“Then stay still.” Tylney spat into his palm, before delving his fingers once again between the boy’s quivering buttocks. Tom felt the hot wetness between his cheeks, as Tylney slathered the gobful of saliva across his tightly clenched sphincter. “If you can find the stomach to please me, I’ll ensure this wretched theater stays open for the rest of the season…”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“Now spread your legs.”

Tom shuffled his feet apart. He couldn’t see what Tylney was doing behind him, but heard the older man drop to his knees and then felt hot breath bask his buttocks.

Tom gasped.

Tylney’s beard tickled the boy’s backside. Tylney plunged his nose between Tom’s cheeks. Titwillow gripped the edge of the table in astonishment and delight as he felt the Master of the Revels rasp his rough, wet tongue across his tightly clenched bumhole, smearing it with saliva.

“Oh my!” Tom bit his bottom lip, as Tylney’s tongue dug into his anus. “Good God!” He could feel hot, wet spit slathered between his buttocks, dripping down his thighs as Tylney worked his tongue.

Eventually, satisfied, the older man straightened up, giving Tom another spank across his glistening buttocks.

“Good and wet I’ve got you, boy,” the Master of the Revels purred. “Slicker than a buttered eel.” With that, Tom squealed. Tylney had just forced a saliva-slick finger right into his bum.

“Good lord,” the Master of the Revels purred. “How deliciously tight you are, my boy.”

As if to challenge that assessment, Tom closed his eyes and squeezed his buttocks harder. Tylney’s eyes widened as he felt the grip on his finger increase.

“Oh, you little whore.” There was a slap! as his palm reverberated once against across Tom’s quivering white buttocks. “You little tease.”

The boy sniggered. Even submitting to the stronger man, he was incorrigible.

“Alright.” Tylney’s iron grip hauled the boy off the desk, dropping him to the floor and roughly maneuvering him until the willowy boy was left on his knees, facing the Master of the Revels.

“Let’s see if that mouth of yours has uses other than poetry.”

With a gulp, Tom found himself eye-level with Tylney’s codpiece, which bulged obscenely.

It was a disturbingly vulnerable position he found himself in. His britches were halfway down his thighs, leaving his pale, white bottom exposed, glistening with Tylney’s saliva.

“Well,” Tylney had his hands on his hips, peering down at the boy with a hungry glare. “D’you know what to do?”

Tom peered up. His big, blue eyes were burning with arousal.

“Indeed I do, my lord.”

“Well, do so.”

Tom didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted his slender hands and struggled with Tylney’s swollen codpiece.

Eventually, he mastered it, reaching into the warm darkness and wrapping his fingers around a hard, hot shaft within.

Out he wrestled Tylney’s cock, turgid and engorged. Tom’s mouth watered at the heat and musk, radiating in his face.

“My, what a big staff you have, my lord,” the boy licked his lips.

Tylney blushed. Only intense arousal was deafening the shame and disgust he had at himself; letting a boy do something with his mouth that would be considered ‘sodomy’ even if it was done by a willing two-penny whore.

But needs must – and the Master of the Revels had a burning need.

“Here,” Tylney used one hand to grasp the base of his impressive erection, while the other entangled itself in Tom’s blond hair. “I’m sure you need no education in this task.”

There was a fleshy slap as Tylney smacked his stiffened cock across Tom’s cheek.

“Do a good job, boy. Get me good and wet with that sweet little mouth of yours… Or, by God, you’ll regret it shortly!”

At that threat, Tom felt his buttocks clench involuntarily. With his britches around his thighs and his bum slathered in saliva, Edmund Tylney’s intentions were explicit.

“Yes, my Lord…”

With that, the Master of the Revels guided Tom’s head forward, using his fistful of hair to manipulate him.

Tom’s mouth opened eagerly, engulfing the head of Tylney’s bulging cock.

“Oh, great saints…” The Master of the Revels threw his head back, groaning in pleasure as he felt his throbbing hardness sink into the warm, wet, sucking vacuum of Tom’s mouth.

The boy’s lips tightened. His tongue swirled. He suckled obediently on Tylney’s cock and the exquisite sensation made the older man’s eyes roll into the back of his head.

With gentle manipulations of Tom’s hair, Tylney controlled the boy’s bobbing head, ignoring the tears that sprang to Tom’s eyes as he accidentally maneuvered his shaft a little too deeply into the welp’s willing maw.

Tom choked for breath, saliva pouring down his chin, but he didn’t let up. With pride and determination, he sucked and licked and lavishly bathed Tylney’s shaft with his tongue.

“You little slut,” Tylney gasped, feeling his balls tingle. “I’m tempted to spend inside your sucking mouth, boy…”

But he had other ambitions – and, looking down, he saw that his erection was sufficiently glistening and slick.

“That’ll do,” Tylney groaned in pleasure, reluctantly pulling the boy’s mouth from his cock. “Much more of that, lad, and you’ll have had your mouth of more than pretty poetry.” He scoffed. “That’s a pleasure I can reserve for another day…”

Using Tom’s hair, Tylney hauled the boy to his feet.

They met eye to eye – the stern courtier and the willowy, androgynous boy. Tom’s lips were glistening with saliva, his chin slathered with drool.

Fighting the urge to kiss the boy, Tylney instead span him around, roughly sending him, once again, sprawling across the table.

“Are you ready, lad?”

Tom gasped, feeling Tylney wrench down his britches just another inch more – until the tight waistband was lodged beneath the curve of his buttocks.

“Yes, m’lord.”

“Are you sure?” Tylney was pumping his hardness, slathering Tom’s saliva up and down the throbbing shaft. “I’ll wager it might split you asunder.”

Tom smirked, despite his apprehension.

“I’ll take a challenge, my lord.”

“Will you, now? How about taking this?” There was a rasping hawk from Tylney - then hot wetness, spat straight between Tom’s buttocks.

Surely he was wet enough now? His cheeks were dripping…

Tom closed his eyes – waiting for the inevitable.

Shuffling forward, Tylney grasped the base of his bulging cock and guided the head between Tom’s pale, white buttocks. They were glistening with saliva, making the progress of his pecker slick and effortless. It parted the boy’s quivering cheeks like they were blancmange.

“Oh, Mercy!” Tom groaned, as he felt the pressure between his cheeks – then hard against his tightly clenched bum. “Be gentle!”

But Tylney was not in a mood to be gentle.

With a firm thrust of his hips, he increased the pressure, forcing the swollen head of his cockstaff against the tight little trou of poor Tom until the boy felt like he’d be split it two.

Finally, blissfully, the wet, slick saliva did its job. Tom’s bumhole surrendered, blossoming like a flower and allowing Tylney’s turgid intruder inside.

Tom cried, gasping in both pleasure and discomfort.

“Great snakes!” Tylney groaned, as he felt Tom’s tightness engulf him. “What a splendid little arse you have, boy. As tight as a turpin.”

He thrust deeper, mercilessly forcing himself into Tom’s rump until his shaft could sink no deeper.

Tom stood hunched over, whooping for breath, feeling like his arse was being split asunder by Tylney’s hardness. But the lavish layer of slick saliva had saved him from injury, making the intrusion more intense than agonizing.

“Once more unto the breach, dear friends,” Tylney sneered, thrusting into Tom’s backside, wallowing in the velvet embrace of the boy’s forbidden fuckhole. “Stay stoic, young boy… This is a great service you’re doing for your theater…”

Tom bit his bottom lip, embracing the intense sensation as Tylney fucked him. The Master of the Revels was rough and eager, his hips moving faster as Tom’s tight little bottom gradually opened up.

Tom braced himself, allowing the older man deeper inside. Discomfort was a hair’s breadth from pleasure. Tom’s arse was lewdly, wantonly swallowing Tylney’s shaft deeper.

“So good, my lord. That’s so good.”

There was the wet, sweaty smack of Tylney’s hips against Tom’s buttocks.

“This is your duty, boy,” Tylney hissed. “Not your pleasure.”

“Y-yes, my lord…” Tom closed his eyes, feeling his own pleasure build. He breathed deeply. The air reeked of sex. It was like lightening in his lungs.

“Here it comes,” Tylney warned, grasping another handful of Tom’s hair and wrenching his head back. “Are you ready, you slutturn?”

“Yes, my lord,” Tom gasped. “Fill me. I’m yours.”

His wanton words were enough to tip the Master of the Revels over the edge.

“So you want it, do you? You little slut. You whore.” He forced himself deeply into Tom’s arse, his cock swelling and throbbing. “Oh, my heavens!” Tylney spurted a cannonade into the boy’s rump, spewing his seed, flooding him with heat and wetness.

Tom shuddered, clenching as he felt himself filled.

Only as the final throbs rescinded did Tylney withdraw his hips, slithering his sated shaft from Tom’s tortured hole.

The boy gasped, half in sadness, half in relief. He hardly had the strength to flinch as Tylney slapped his buttocks with his flaccid cock, leaving a glistening wet smear across Tom’s pale, white skin.

“Well done, boy,” the Master of the Revels whooped, tucking his drained manhood into his britches. “I’ve yet to see you on stage, but that was a truly heroic performance.”

Tom said nothing.

He was aching and exhausted, having been crushed to the tabletop by Tylney’s enthusiastic thrusting. As the boy straightened up, he felt the Master of the Revel’s hot wetness flood from his freshly-fucked hole and dribble down his thighs.

Edmund Tylney, Master of the Revels, had been a man driven by desire.

Having emptied his balls into the bottom of the pale, pretty boy, reality started to resume with alarming awkwardness.

There was no longer that burning need – that aching, throbbing cockshaft that demanded to be satisfied. As Tylney drifted down from climax, he found himself sticky, sated and looking across at a disheveled young boy dripping with his seed.

“Oh, good lord…” Tylney’s eyes widened. “What did I just do?”

“You did a tremendous job, my lord,” Tom looked up flirtatiously.

Tylney looked at the boy’s pretty face… Those plump lips, which had been wrapped around his needy cock just minutes earlier.

“You slatturn,” Tylney gasped, buckling his belt and adjusting his codpiece. “You seduced me, you slut. I came to you warned that you could incite foul and lascivious depravities in man… And I succumbed to them. I am unclean.”

Tom’s eyes widened.

“But my Lord… We had an arrangement…”

“An arrangement!” Tylney roared. “A deal with the devil, more like.” His cheeks turned pale. “Sodomy, no less… If the Queen hears of this, I shall be hung.”

“B-but my Lord… I thought this is what you wanted.”

“The attentions of a boy? It’s foul. It’s an abomination. What witchcraft did you use to lure me into such indecency.”

Tom cried: “None, my lord! I promise! I thought… I thought you wanted it… and I agreed, to keep the theater open.”

“Open,” Tylney gasped. “If you let slip of what happened here, I’ll have this theater burned to the ground and all of you hung for sodomites…”

Tom gasped.

“And you! You devil child… How many other men have your lured into depravity?” Tylney grasped the boy’s arm, dragging him forward until Tom was face to face with the older courtier. “I bet you enjoyed it too, didn’t you boy? Did you enjoy it?”

“Y-yes, my lord.” Tom gasped, trying to catch his breath.

“Did you spend?” Tylney reached forward, plunging his hand into the front of Tom’s open britches, expecting to find the lad sporting a stiffness or to be dripping with seed.

But he found nothing.

“W-what?”

Tylney released Tom’s arm – instead, using both hands to wrench down the boy’s britches, until they fell to his knees.

“No, my Lord!”

Exposed, Tom tried to cover his shame, but Tylney batted his hands away.

Between the boy’s legs – where a young man’s cock and balls should hang – there was nothing. Just a triangle of soft, dewy hair.

Tylney’s head span.

He straightened up, this time using his big hands to grasp the front of Tom’s tunic and tear it asunder.

He exposed the boy’s chest – which, instead of being flat and hairless, was topped by two small, pert breasts. Tom tried to cover this new nakedness, but Tylney gripped his wrists and mercilessly held them apart.

He saw the fleshy bulges. The pert, pink nipples. Undeniably, beautifully feminine. A fine pair of breasts, that had been virtually invisible beneath the padding of Tom’s tunic.

“Good God,” the Master of the Revels roared. “Y-you’re a girl.”

Tom blushed. As soon as the pinkness appeared, Tylney realized that he should have spotted it from the moment the ‘boy’ had been dragged through the door. This was no fine-featured, androgynous young man. It was a girl. A pretty, well-built young lady of twenty, if she was a day.

“You’re a girl,” he gasped, feeling the disgust and self doubt flow from his body. “Oh, thank the Lord…”

Edmund Tylney summoned Simon Hendred to the office.

The owner of the Black Lion entered, sniffing the air – detecting the unmistakable scent of sex.

But the look on Edmund Tylney’s face warned the playhouse owner not to trifle with him.

“You wanted to see me, My Lord?”

”Yes!” Tylney roared. “I wanted to see you about this.”

Grabbing the elbow of ‘Tom,’ Tylney wrenched the half-undressed girl into the center of the room.

“Disgusting,” he wretched. “I’ve never seen such depravity in all my life. A girl! On stage, no less!” Tylney held up his hand to his temple. “No wonder those men had such disgusting, lustful thoughts. It’s this sort of depravity and wickedness that we try to prevent by forbidding women from the stage…”

“T-then… What now, m’lord?” Hendred had nightmare images of torture and imprisonment. If he was lucky, he’d have his hand lopped off as an example. More likely, he’d find his head on a pike for Incitement to Public Indecency.

But Tylney wasn’t glaring any more. His rage had subsided.

“You are to take that filly off the stage, d’you hear?” The Master of the Revels hissed. “I never want to see such an obscenity again. You shall have boys in the woman’s roles, as God intended.”

“Y-yes, m’lord.” Nervously, Hendred breathed: “And my theater?”

“Closed!” Tylney roared, before adding: “If, that is, there’s even so much as a peep from your patrons in the future.” Then, more softly, “but until such time, you may remain open.”

Simon Hendred breathed a lungful of relief.

Only then did he see the fearful look in young ‘Tom’s’ eyes.

“And w-what about him?” He demanded. “Or her, rather?”

“And her?” Tylney poked an accusing finger into the chest of young ‘Tom.’ “Her? This slutturn? This temptress? This Jezebel? As for this harlot,” very softly, the Master of the Revels drew closer, until he whispered conspiratorially in Hendred’s ear. “Tell her to expect my visit next week…”

THE END

Full Moon

2009-08-03T15:52:00.000-07:00

How to be a Renaissance Babe

2009-07-19T12:26:00.000-07:00

Becoming a Renaissance Babe is mostly about attitude - that saucy, sassy, sexy self-confidence that comes from within (the ability to out sword-fight, out drink and out sexify any gentleman out there.) Ample cleavage doesn't hurt - but boobies aren't exclusively what being a Renaissance Babe is all about.

But although RennBabedom is a state-of-mind, it's also a state-of-dress. Almost all of the women featured on the digital pages of Renaissance Babes are decked out in lovely, luscious Renaissance costumes.

Getting hold of a Renaissance costume is as easy or as difficult as you want to make it. For those attending a Renaissance Faire as a one-off, or wanting to rock the Medieval look at a sassy party, it's easy to rent Renaissance costumes or buy ones from a costume shop (or online.)

More serious Renn-lifestylers will create their own. A Renaissance Costume is all about self-expression, so for those with the money, time and patience - every single item of their costume is hand-selected to suit their alter-ego's specific requirements.

This can be a very expensive process. A whole host of companies produce beautiful, authentic Renaissance customs and accessories which you can use as the basis for a costume.

However, if you're just starting out it's worth considering a budget-priced 'costume' style outfit. Although best suited for Halloween parties and the like, a good costume can be modified and accessorised to offer a solid introduction to the Renaissance lifestyle.

If you're handy with pins and a sewing machine (or know somebody that is) you can take an ill-fitting costume and custom it to fit by making it snugger in some areas (especially around the waist, as was the style) and looser in another. Hide seams under the armpits, or with a cape or throw.

Cleavage is a major component of most Renaissance costumes, so pair yours with a wonderbra or other state-of-the-art 'boulder holder.' Some enterprising wenches recommended padding their bras with tissue or even scotch-taping their boobs for that added 'depth.'

(It might not sound very authentic, but if scotch-tape had existed then, I'm sure Marie Antoinette would have done exactly the same.)

Accessorize like mad and put your hair into suitable 'Renaissance' style. Pigtails are easy enough, but elegant 'dos and luxurious over-the-shoulder styles are safe bets.

All it takes is a bit of style and imagination and almost anybody can turn a budget-priced costume into something pretty spectacular - and the tricks and ideas you develop with your affordable outfits will steer you well when you decide to splash out and start building a real 'Renaissance Babe' costume of your own.

Sorry about the delay

2009-06-16T13:35:00.000-07:00

Get Thee to a Newsagent!

2009-05-15T10:33:00.000-07:00

This month's copy of Renaissance Magazine (Issue 67!)

More from the Spring Renn Faires

2009-05-12T09:38:00.000-07:00

Even Shakespeare had to start somewhere...

2009-03-31T09:44:00.000-07:00

You can read my cover story 'Ye Olde Taxes' in the latest issue of Renaissance Magazine, available from all good bookshops and newsagents now.

Scarlet Lady

2009-03-20T12:59:00.001-07:00

Ten things we learned from Shakespeare...

2009-03-11T09:42:00.001-07:00

I just discovered an article I wrote! It was published online, way back last year, but I never got to see where!

The prettiest young men would flock to auditions in the hopes of landing roles as leading ladies. Think about it: In the 1996 movie ‘Romeo + Juliet,’ Leonardo Di Caprio played Romeo. Back in Shakespeare’s day, he’d have been more likely to have landed the role of Juliet!

Read 'Ten things we learned from Shakespeare (Part 1)' here!

More from Maryland

2009-03-11T08:32:00.001-07:00

a New Post

2009-02-28T11:31:00.000-08:00

b990001ba0f832769af6dd8e639b9dc8

...and the most beautiful come from Maryland

2009-02-04T05:52:00.000-08:00

Back after hiatus!

2009-01-22T13:05:00.001-08:00

Prey forgiveness for my tardiness...

More of what you love...

2008-10-21T08:02:00.001-07:00

Painted Ladies

2008-10-13T07:06:00.000-07:00

Renaissance Submission

2008-10-13T06:56:00.000-07:00

Joesph very kindly sent a picture of his stepdaughter in all her Renaissance glory. Great costume!

Arizona Renn Faire

2008-09-11T08:32:00.001-07:00

Something for the ladies? An interview with Nathan DeCoux...

2008-09-02T09:04:00.001-07:00

This time last year, I visited my first Renaissance Faire in upstate New York.

What an adventure! The busty beauties in costumes and corsets... The flagons of ale and the gigantic turkey legs... Once I'd arrived, I never wanted to leave.

While we were there, we watched 'The Rotten Scoundrels' - the tale of two thieving highwaymen, one with a quick wit and a sharp sword, the other with a dark secret and a Velcro codpiece.

It was a magnificent skit, full of brilliant jokes and a very affirming life philosophy (if something's not nailed down, it's free!) Not to mention some devilishly daring swordplay and a star who both my female companions described as 'a bit yummy.'

Well, it's taken me a year, but I've finally tracked down the rotten Reynard Ravishem - otherwise known by the equally swashbuckling name of Nathan DeCoux.

So, Nathan - you're quite often seen engaging in violent swordfights and brawling. What exactly is it you 'do'? And why haven't you been arrested yet?

I’m a fight director and arranger. I choreograph fights for stage and screen, aiming for safety, ease of performance, good storytelling and kick-ass moves, usually in that order.

As for the arrest thing, it’s actually kind of amazing. Post 9/11, I’ve walked through gaggles of cops and heavily armed national guardsmen while carrying large, suspicious-looking bags of steely death through the NYC subway without raising so much as an eyebrow.

In ten years of this, I’ve only had my bags inspected once. I guess I’ve got an innocent face? (Also, I didn’t do it.)

How old were you when you first realized you wanted to be a swashbuckler?

When did I first pick up a sword-like object and start whacking things indiscriminately with it? Probably when I was six or seven, about five minutes after I’d seen the first Star Wars movie at a drive-in, and it just got progressively worse from then on.

But I don’t think I started calling myself a swashbuckler until I really started taking stage combat lessons in earnest and performing in my first Faire in 2001. That was when I started to get really serious about making a career out of stage combat instruction.

How exactly did you get into stage combat? How old were you?

I was 20 or 21, and I started taking stage combat while I was a drama major at New York University. I was at the Playwrights Horizons school, and SAFD teacher Todd Loweth taught me some basic unarmed, some knife and found weapons stuff.

I was absolutely enchanted, but too timid at that point to dare think that I was good enough to make a career out of it.

It wasn’t until 1999, after years of martial arts and strength training that I started taking a quarterstaff class from SAFD fight master J. Allen Suddeth, and my whole world changed.

What advice would you have for anybody who wants to take up Stage Combat?

Find a good teacher whose philosophy you agree with, who has a good number of years as both a student and teacher under their belt. Safety should be their primary concern, but they should also be fun to work with.

In the NYC area, I’d recommend my Teacher, Joseph Travers of Swordplay Stage Combat. If you want to know who’s teaching in your area, you can go to http://www.safd.org/ and find out how to contact your regional representative (there’s also a lot of info on the organization in general on the SAFD website), who can tell you who’s teaching in your area, or you can just google “stage combat” or “stage fights/fighting” and see what you come up with!

Also, I’d like to remind people that learning stage combat can be a slow process, like learning to dance or taking up a martial art.

A three-hour class will give you a taste, but you really have to put in some hours (say, 30 to 40) just to have a basic working knowledge of one weapon or style - and remember, everybody learns at a different rate!

You and your fair maiden, Kate, have been seen buckling the swash at numerous Renaissance Faires. How exactly did you get started doing that?

Ha! Here’s the “Short Version” of the story!

I started at NYRF in 2001 and played for two years as a Sheriff’s guard, first as Marcus Flinch in ’01, and then as Iago Virago in ’02. Kate started as Jenny Wren in 2003, and I met her briefly during that season even though I wasn’t working there. Even then, she caught my eye, but only briefly as I was attached at the time.

In 2004, we ended up working together and getting to know each other on a production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” in Jersey City –a chance meeting that would have lasting repercussions.

Because of that production, Kate was asked to direct the same company’s production of Romeo and Juliet in 2005. She then asked me to be her fight director, and on the first day of choreography, she pulled out her own rapier and dagger and helped me work out the first few bits. True love began to blossom then and there!

In 2006 Kate and I returned to NYRF as Maid Marian and Lord Henry Carey, respectively. I choreographed her chessboard fight with Guy of Guisbourne that year, and proposed to her in grand style on the stocks two years ago today (writing this on 08-31-2008, by the by...)

In 2007 we returned as Reynard Ravishem and Cassandra O’Flannery Cannery Rowe, where Kate directed and helped choreograph The Perfect Scoundrels (starring Moi and Emily Rouch), and I choreographed 2 chessboard fights , a seduction duel using cutlass and cloak, and an all out brawl with Emily!

What advice do you have for anybody who wants to get a job at a Renaissance Faire?

A few acting and voice lessons couldn’t hurt, but acting is only a small part of working at a Faire. It’s outdoor theater, so you have to be able to project yourself and be clear and concise. Big booming voice good, tiny, breathy voice bad.

Get the accent down. Drama Bookshop and other related stores sell dialect tapes at reasonable prices that will help you adopt any accent you wish. Since NYRF usually casts a few members each year as emissaries from exotic locations, learning a foreign accent from someplace other than Ireland/UK could be useful, too.

It’s also improv comedy a lot of the time (depending on which Faire you’re working at and how much interaction management expects you to take part in with the patrons). Take a few improv classes and get out of your shell! The one thing you can’t be when working on-site is shy and retiring!

If you want to fight, get training beforehand. There will always be people willing to show you a few things here and there once you’re on-site, but generally, a fight choreographer at the Faire will have too much to do and think about to spend the amount of time it takes to train a newbie.

This may sound harsh, but consider that it may take 20 to 40 hours of work just to wrap your mind around a new weapon or unarmed style to the point where you can adapt quickly to new choreography, and handle yourself at a level where the choreographer feels you’re ready to fight without training wheels.

Get fit! The costumes are hot, the days are long, and the schedule can be grueling. If being on your feet for 10 hours with the occasional jog, dance, or skip down the lane in summer heat sounds impossible, you may want to hit the gym before tryouts.

Have a special skill. Can you sing? Yodel? Speak French, Spanish, Italian or Latin? Can you juggle, tumble, balance things on your nose, do standup comedy, or are you an expert at speaking in Elizabethan prose? Make sure the people you’re auditioning for know these things.
So what's the appeal of the Renn Faire lifestyle?

Good friends, good beer, twenty jokes a minute, and the kind of magic you only get from having dozens of highly creative people in silly costumes pulling out all the stops. Once you’re on-site with the cast and the vendors, it’s positively magical.

After hours, the campfire jokes, the interchange of ideas and constant camaraderie are what make it all worthwhile. Oh, and hot babes in bodices. Bonus points!

If any of our readers fancy picking up their $29.99 decorative samurai swords and reenacting Kill Bill in the back yard with their best mate, what advice do you have for them?

Go ahead! Just let me cover my eyes first... and have a mop standing by, for God’s sake!

No, really: swords are not toys, and even unsharpened ones can kill ya real good.

On stage we use swords made either of forged carbon steel or high-strength aluminum, both very strong and made to stand up to a lot of punishment. The average decorative sword is just too brittle, too soft, or too shoddily constructed to use safely.

Durable swords cost a lot more than thirty bucks, and you still have to know how to use them to avoid injury. Whether it’s stage combat, eastern martial arts or western historical fencing, get yourself lots of training and protective equipment before you start messing around with pointy things. Even the dull ones hurt. A lot. And yes, even the wooden ones, too!

On stage, you've got a pretty darn convincing British accent. How did you manage that?

Lots of practice! I grew up watching lots of public television, which in the seventies in the U.S. consisted of a lot of British programming. Between Monty Python, Dr. Who, Mystery!, and a dozen other programs, (plus a third-grade teacher with a remarkably posh London accent and a Sunday school teacher with a thick Irish brogue) my sister and I were both talking with fairly convincing accents by age 10.

From there on, it was just about watching lots of movies and taking lots of notes in my dialects classes in college.

This blog is a celebration of the women of Renaissance Faires. What do you think makes 'Renaissance Babes' so alluring?

Partly it’s the clothing of course, the outfits that seem to reveal and conceal at the same time and are designed specifically to suggest on several levels. Between the skirts, blouses, bodices and boots, you’ve got a bit of class, a bit of sass, a bit of mystery, some layers to present a challenge to those who are adventurous enough, and some straight-up bondage attire.

Partly also it’s the permission people give themselves to be more available emotionally when they’re in costume. Go to any Halloween party these days and you’ll see the same cutting-loose, the same bumping-up of the revelry. Faires just give us a glorious license to be like that more than once a year.

You're married to no less than Maid Marion herself. What's it like being in a relationship with a sword-wielding adventuress? Do debates over who's turn to do the washing up turn lethal?

Ah, my Katherine. Such a kindly lass she is, that our arguments are few and far between. I love a brassy, classy, yet practical girl, and that’s exactly what I got when I started shacking up with Kate. We’d take turns washing up, but we have to dig our apartment out of the post-wedding clutter first.

So who's your favourite historical figure? And why?

Hmmm…tough one. From a sword fighting perspective, there are several: Musashi, Capo Ferro, Lichtenauer, Talhoffer, the list goes on! From a dueling perspective, Maupin and Catalina de Erauso (yay, uppity women!), and purely based on historical impact, I’m more prone to skip the Renaissance and go with scientists like Newton, Heisenberg, Feynman, Einstein and others like them? Favorites? Meh. Who can have favorites when they’re all so fascinating?

You're a fan of swashbucklers in general. Which swashbuckling movies and movie stars do you recommend our readers look into?

Any and all that they can get their hands on! If you want to get a sense of the historical progression of the swashbuckler, start with Douglas Fairbanks, Sr. and John Barrymore, and work your way up the timeline: Fairbanks Jr. and Errol Flynn, Tyrone Power and Burt Lancaster, Danny Kaye (I’m thinking specifically of “The Court Jester”) , all the way up to the modern films of Johnny Depp and Antonio Banderas.

For a good list of swashbuckling films and literature, see the following entry on Wikipedia.

Have you ever been injured 'on the job?'

Too many times to count! If you haven’t got the message yet, stage combat and stunt work can be a bit risky. I’ve had more than my share of dings, scrapes, bruises, twisted ankles and ouches.

I’ve also screwed up my left knee through too much tumbling, taken a full-force broadsword swat to the hand, had an ear pierced by a dagger that went a bit astray of its target, had a thigh slightly punctured by a dagger I was wielding, a foot almost broken by a joust horse, and have had some pretty hair-raising near misses with axes, maces, shields and other heavy armaments.

So, YES… but chicks dig scars, right?

Have you ever got a free drink boasting about this injury?

No, but that’s my fault for not working it enough. I simply must start making up more war stories.

Sadly, we can't live in 'Renaissance Mode' all the time - but what aspects of your swashbuckling alter-ego have made it into your everyday personality?

I’m certainly more chivalrous than I used to be, more deferential. One thing playing sheriff’s guards in 2001 and 2002 did for me was give me the ability to be unceasingly nasty and brutal while, at the same time, being achingly polite to everyone. Weirdly, it brought my level of personal etiquette up a bit.

And, I occasionally can’t help slipping into my Reynard Ravishem persona. There are times, even in today’s society, where a bow and a wink still carry some weight.

A Celebration of Natalie Dormer as Anne Boleyn

2008-08-25T08:38:00.001-07:00

With her execution at the climax of the last season, we shan't be seeing any more of the delicious Natalie Dormer as Anne Boleyn in The Tudors... So here's a celebration of a true Renaissance Babe...

The Other Boleyn Girl

2008-08-25T08:02:00.000-07:00

Doubtless, fans of all things Renaissance might have seen The Other Boleyn Girl in the cinema when it came out this February. If not, it's been available on DVD for a month or so.

Lavishly filmed with an all-star cast, The Other Boleyn Girl is an adaptation of Philippa Gregory's book of the same name. It tells the story of Mary and Anne Boleyn and their love affair with King Henry VIII.

For me, this film was a weird experience. A few months ago, when The Tudors was still on the television, I saw exactly the same story played out with a different cast (but a very similar script.) And although The Other Boleyn Girl features more exquisite costumes and sets, the TV series managed to do the whole thing better - not least of which because they had two whole seasons to draw the story out in.

Timing is the problem with The Other Boleyn Girl. They try to squish Henry VIII's annulment of his marriage, the reformation of the Church of England, his love affair with Anne and her eventual execution into the second act of the movie - leaving it all a bit of a mess.

Added to which, Natalie Portman is the only one who does any acting in the film. Eric Bana, as Henry VIII, has a lot more presence than The Tudor's Jonathan Rhys Meyers - but has about three lines of dialogue in all. Scarlett Johansson is pretty and blond in her role as Mary, Anne's younger sister. She also suffers from a dialogue-drought and acts like a drip through the entire film.

Natalie Portman is attractive and vibrant in her role as Anne Boleyn - but overplays the bratty without being seductive. By the time her relationship with Henry VIII is finally consummated, you can tell he's already sick to the gills with her.

All in all, The Tudors did this better - especially their depiction of Anne.

Despite having a bit of an estuary accent, Natalie Dormer is a much more effective Anne Boleyn than Long Island's favorite daughter. Dormer is sly, seductive, scheming and just a little bit slutty. Every man watching The Tudors shared Henry VIII's confused desire for her. She was a manipulative minx, a harridan and a harlot - and, darn it, didn't we love her for it!

If you're an avid consumer of all things Renaissance, The Other Boleyn Girl will satisfy you - but if you're left with the decision of watching either The Tudors or this movie, stick with the mini-series. It's much better.

Pirate Booty

2008-08-18T06:55:00.001-07:00

Pirates of the Caribbean, plus numerous Halloween outfits, have shown us all just how sexy a girl can be when she's in full pirate regalia.

But it still leaves the question - just why are pirate wenches so attractive?

Answer? They just Arrrrrrrrr!

Although piracy is normally a masculine activity, there have been female pirates around as long as there have been pirates.

Ch’iao K’uo Füü Jëën (just don't ask me to pronounce it) was a mythical Chinese pirate back in 600 BC.

The first authentic Wench of the Waves was Jeanne-Louise de Belleville, who revenged herself against the French king for the murder of her husband by leading three warships in a brutal campaign against the French navy.

The golden age of the female pirate was, unsurprisingly, the golden age of piracy itself.

During the days of Elizabeth I, both Ireland and England produced some fearsome female corsairs, like Gráinne Ní Mháille (or, as we Brits would call her, Grace O'Malley) who was known as the The Sea Queen Of Connemara. She sunk and ransacked English ships and ports on the coast of Ireland.

Lady Mary Killigrew was a famous Cornish pirate, who figured hijacking a German ship would be a good moneymaker (nobody liked the Germans even then.) Unfortunately, this German was a close personal friend of Elizabeth I and when Lady Mary tried to sell her stolen ship in Ireland, she was arrested and put on trial for piracy. Fortunately, she was able to bribe the jury with her stolen booty and got off scot free.

The most famous female pirates operated in the 18th century:

Anne Bonny was an Irish girl with a penchant for violence and a rebellious spirit. When her husband, James, threatened her with a flogging, she ran off to sea with the colourful Cap'n 'Calico' Jack Rackham - and earned a reputation as a fearsome pirate.

Mary Read was a Devonshire lass who also found herself on Calico Jack's crew - she'd joined up dressed as a man, but soon befriended Anne Bonney and distinguished herself as part of the gender-bending pirate triumvirate in the most unconventional ways - even winning a swordfight by flashing her opponent (and earning herself the split second needed to skewer him through the heart.)

Today, Renaissance Babes choose a pirate persona because it reflects aspects of their personality (or aspects they aspire to.) An independent spirit. Fearless demeanour. An earthy and practical outlook and an unashamed love of rum, debauchery and plunder.

Girls with a 'princess' complex send a shiver down my spine. I'd rather plunder a pirate's booty any day of the week!

Yaaaar!

Sexy Ninjas

2008-08-13T06:52:00.001-07:00

Ninja FAIL. Not so easy to be stealthy when you're gorgeous and nearly naked.

Crazy CosPlay

2008-08-08T10:55:00.001-07:00

Nobody said costumes HAD to be historically accurate...

Here are some Renn Faire and CosPlay attendees in slightly unorthodox outfits - but I don't think you'll get any complaints from this department.

Shots from a Renn Romance

2008-08-07T11:28:00.001-07:00

Costumed Cuties

2008-08-06T10:40:00.000-07:00

Swan Song

2008-08-05T09:53:00.001-07:00

In the climax of Season 2 of The Tudors, King Henry VIII is served a bloody great swan sitting on a pie. The Tudors? They loved pie. Went absolutely crazy for the stuff. And the only thing they loved more than pie was pie with an animal sitting on the top of it.

Pheasants and peacocks were more popular than swans. In Medieval England, the eating of swans was strictly for royalty only and the law still states that any swan in Britain is property of Her Majesty the Queen. So Henry's swan pie was a pretty impressive snack to be served.

Watching The Tudors, you see that lopping the noggin off his second wife, Anne, did nothing to dent Henry's appetite and he scoffs that pie like nobody's business. It must have tasted gooooood.

But what did it taste like? Well, fortunately, records remain of the recipe for swan pie, so any budding Renaissance cooks can break out the pots and pans and have go at cooking it. Where you get a swan from, however, is beyond me.

For to dihyte a swan
"Roasted swan with Chaudon"

ORIGINAL RECEIPT:
11. For to dihyte a swan. Tak & vndo hym & wasch hym, & do on a spite & enarme hym fayre & roste hym wel; & dysmembre hym on þe beste manere & mak a fayre chyne, & þe sauce þerto schal be mad in þis manere, & it is clept:
12. Chaudon. Tak þe issu of þe swan & wasch it wel, & scoure þe guttes wel with salt, & seth þe issu al togedere til it be ynow, & þan tak it vp and wasch it wel & hew it smal, & tak bred & poudere of gyngere & of galyngale & grynde togedere & tempere it with þe broth, & coloure it with þe blood. And when it is ysothe & ygrounde & streyned, salte it, & boyle it wel togydere in a postnet & sesen it with a litel vynegre.

- Hieatt, Constance B. and Sharon Butler. Curye on Inglish: English Culinary Manuscripts of the Fourteenth-Century (Including the Forme of Cury). New York: for The Early English Text Society by the Oxford University Press, 1985.

Wench Wonderland

2008-08-04T09:00:00.000-07:00

Wonderful wenches...

2008-08-01T07:28:00.001-07:00

Lovely ladies from the Renaissance Faires

2008-07-30T12:21:00.000-07:00

Shakespeare said "Brevity is the soul of wit."

It's also the soul of a good post on Renaissance Babes - so I'll stow the soliloquies and just let you enjoy what you came here for - pictures of lovely Renaissance ladies...

The Beer Machine

2008-07-29T13:51:00.000-07:00

What makes the Renaissance Lifestyle so appealing?

For me, it's the beautiful, busty wenches, the sizzle of spit-roast turkey leg and the clang of clashing swords. But just as important as all of those things - it's the beer.

Of course, an appreciate of the Renaissance Lifestyle is incomplete without a hearty and enthusiastic appreciation for the fermented fruits of foamy freshness. I'm talking, of course, about the delicious ale we love to quaff at Renaissance Faires - and drink with equal abandon when we're dreaming of being at Renaissance Faires.

Good ale is an essential ingredient in the Renn Faire lifestyle - and veterans of the circuit have highly developed tastebuds which reject the dish water companies like Budweiser try to fob off as 'beer.'

Real beer is brown. Real beer has flavour. Real beer might not put hairs on your chest, but if you do have them there, it'll make them stand on end! Real beer is just.... Well, the Bee's Knees.

Which is why many Renaissance regulars do the impossible and actually brew their own.

It's not impossible. In fact, even somebody as culinary uncultivated as your humble host has mastered the simplified brewing process available from some local 'gadgets' shops.

There are a broad range of 'home brew' kits available - but the question on most people's lips is: 'Are they any good?'

Well, for the most part, no. Many produce beer by sitting, fermenting, in your front room for two weeks. The problem is the resultant brew tends to be warm, flat and undeniably British in character.

After extensive field testing of such inventions as the 'Brewzer,' amongst others, I have concluded that the only real legitimate 'home brewery' is the Beer Machine - a keg shaped machine that brews an enormous variety of beers in just ten days.

You order the Beer Machine and a choice of dozens of beers - from lagers and ales to pilsners and stouts. Add that and the supplied yeast to the machine and it sits in your kitchen, bubbling away for five days. Then you transfer it to your fridge and the 'cold' stage does what other home brew kits don't seem capable of - it turns your muddy sludge into crisp, clear beer.

The Beer Machine then features a CO2 system which means you can carbonate your beer (although it gets quite fizzy during the brewing process.)

What this means is that within ten days, you'll have two gallons of crisp, delicious, 'real' looking beer in your fridge - served foamy and cold just like in the alehouse.

And is it any good?

Well, I'm partial to the Canadian Red Lager, which is remarkably similar to Sam Adams Boston Lager. And the verdict is YES. It is VERY good. And it tastes even sweeter because I brewed it myself. Every time I raise a flagon, I feel like an authentic Renaissance brewer and finally feel free from the watered-down bilge-waster beer of Miller, Coors and Budweiser.

Try it for yourself. If you have a fridge, a sink and ten days to spare, you could be on your way to amazing your friends with home brewed, foamy goodness all of your very own.

The Beer Machine is available for $114.95 and comes complete with a premium beer mix.

Delasoif en printe...

2008-07-29T10:35:00.001-07:00

That's right, my Lord and Ladies!

Catch my latest article in Issue 62 of the wonderful Renaissance Magazine. You can pick one up at any good newsagents or bookstore.

Which Witch?

2008-07-29T10:29:00.001-07:00

Witchs! Not quite as good as firewood, but a staple on any medieval bonfire!

But burning these magical maidens is the stuff of religious nutjobs and pyromaniacs. Here at Renaissance Babes, we celebrate the witches (after all, if we don't, they might turn us into frogs!)

Here are some pictures of some real-life Renaissance Faire witches - and every one of them has something in common with the rest. They're all magical!

Just some Renaissance Beauties...

2008-07-28T07:13:00.000-07:00

Back to Basics... And here are some regular shots of Renaissance Lovelies doing what they do best.

Lady Godiva eat your heart out...

2008-07-25T06:07:00.000-07:00

According to legend, Lady Godiva was a beautiful Saxon noblewoman who lived with her husband, Leofric, Earl of Mercia, in the English town of Coventry.

Lady Godiva was as kind and wise as her husband was cruel and bullish - and when she witnessed the people of Coventry suffering under her husband's oppressive taxation, she demanded he remit the tolls and give some relief to them. Leofric refused.

But Lady Godiva was a thoroughly modern Medieval woman and used the most powerful tool available in her feminine arsenal to entreat her stubborn husband. She nagged him.

She nagged him and nagged him and nagged him until the frustrated Leofric gave his obstinate wife an ultimatum. He would never lift the oppressive taxes - at least, not until the beautiful Godiva stripped naked and rode through the town for all and sundry to see.

But Leofric had underestimated his missus. She took him at his word.The beautiful Saxon maiden threw off her robes, ordered Leofric's bravest two knights to attend her and then rode naked through the streets of the town, with the stunned, but cheering townsfolk assembled to watch.

A humbled and penitent Leofric, humiliated at his wife's stubborn display, dutifully lifted the oppressive taxes and thus elevated the heroic Godiva to the ranks of the world's most legendary nudists.

The story ended well for Godiva - but almost a thousand years after the Saxon beauty's legendary naked hack through the streets earned her a place in history, another beautiful woman is facing stern consequences for following her example.

Peruvian model and dancer Leysi Suarez, in order to celebrate the 187th anniversary of Peru's independence from Spain, rode naked astride a beautiful brown horse wearing nothing but a look of stern patriotic pride - and using the Peruvian flag as a saddle.

But instead of acclaim and adulation, Leysi is facing political uproar and possibly even criminal charges.

Defense Minister Antero Flores angrily roared: "These are patriotic symbols that demand total respect, and using them improperly requires punishment!"

He has threatened the Peruvian beauty with up to four years in jail for modelling on the provocative cover of DFarandula magazine.

"I haven't committed a crime!" Leysi protested. "I love Peru and show it with my body and soul!"
We can only hope that the people of Peru shoulder behind their blushing benefactor in the same way the people of Coventry supported the Lady Godiva. Pride and patriotism are important things and if they can't be expressed in provocative pictures, what kind of world are we living in?

Leysi Surarez? Here at Renaissance Babes, we entirely support you.

And Lady Godiva? Rest assured that your legend lives on.

Let's talk swords!

2008-07-21T13:33:00.000-07:00

Warning: Not All Swords are Created Equal.

Attending a Renn Faire gives everybody the chance to carry around a sword. It's part of the outfit. It's part of the lifestyle. For some people, it's even a way of compensating for their inadequacies (you know what they say. The bigger the sword...)

But at a Faire, the only people who whip them out (the swords I mean) are the trained and trusted members of the Faire staff. Because even if your mighty blades are 'safely' blunted, you can still give somebody a near fatal crack on the skull with one (and the pointy bits are more than capable of making shish-kebab out of anybody!)

Sword fighting is kept very sensibly behind the safety curtains. You'll see it on stage. You'll see it in skits. What you won't see are regular Rennies slapping each other silly with three feet long lengths of steel. But that's what makes it so exciting.

As soon as I saw some of the Renn Faire players dueling to the death, I was inspired to learn the art of stage combat and do some swashbuckling myself. But what is involved in a project like that?

Well, there are actually more stringent rules in place about becoming a stage combateer than there are rules about gun ownership (in many states, at least.) To get up on stage and thrill the masses with your daring exploits, it's necessary to pass certification by the Society of American Fight Directors. Their examiners will test candidates and only on successfully proving your skills can you earn one of the coveted SAFD certificates which enables you to legitimately start slinging your steel about.

There are eight techniques in stage combat. Rapier and Dagger, Single Sword, Broadsword, Broadsword and Shield, Small Sword, Knife, Quarterstaff and Unarmed.

To pass certification in any of these weapons, you'll need to undergo thirty hours of training by an SAFD certified instructor. Then, by preparation of a brief staged combat, you'll be tested in each weapon by an instructor.

It's a pretty major commitment - but there are certainly opportunities for those who attain those certificates. Hollywood movies still seem to involve plenty of fight scenes!

You can find out about the SAFD here.

You can learn about SAFD training in New York here.

So once you're on the road to becoming a master swordsman, what about your weapon?

I've collected swords for years - I have several at home I picked up in junk and antique shops when I was living in Plymouth. Would those be suitable for staged combat?

The answer is 'maybe.' Vague, aren't I?

The truth is, not all swords are the same - especially not these days. It's possible to buy fake samurai swords for £20 down at the Blackbush market, but that doesn't mean they're any good.
Most decorative swords are made out of stainless steel. Some are even sharpened, so they look like deadly weapons. However, stainless steel simply isn't up to the rigors of stage combat. The first time a SS blade meets another, most likely they'll both shatter.

Stage combat swords are made out of high carbon steel, with much more flexibility in the steel than regular stainless. It's these swords that can handle the abuse and that explains why high carbon weapons are worth so much more than stainless display pieces.

Stage combat swords are easy to get. They're available by mail order from several online companies. One company, Stage Steel, even design swords especially for stage combat.

They do tend to be more expensive than stainless steel replicas, but that price is worth paying. Buy a display sword and start dueling with your buddy and at best, both your swords will shatter. At worse, they'll shatter and the shards will pierce something soft and fleshy.

Renaissance Dog

2008-07-21T09:46:00.000-07:00

Being somewhat French, I am adoring of all short-haired, scampy little mutts - this fella being no exception. Sure, people might not be impressed by your chain-mail clad Chihuahua. But as far as this proud little puppy is concerned? His suit of armor makes him feel like equal to any mighty, metal-clad steed.

Outside, he may be small. But inside, he knows he's enormous.

Great personality? Or Mind Controlling Magic?

2008-07-21T09:09:00.000-07:00

As minor nobility, I try to live up to my title by being... well, noble. And aside from laying my cloak across puddles for young maidens, this mandates that I do not make fun of other people.

However, this picture below tests my nobility practically to breaking point.

What do we have? A ravishing young wench with firm, ripe cleavage literally bursting from a tight, leather bustier. A feast for the eyes (and a feast for other parts, if I ever got my paws on her...)

But what manner of man has she chosen to consort with? Not a handsome young buck such as myself, but a very rotund spell caster.

My friends, I cannot help but wonder if seductive forces are at work here other than our stout sorcerer's astounding personality.

Either he is, to be blunt, hung like an equine - or else (and more likely) he has used his devilish witchcraft to befuddle this desirable young maiden. He gets to paw and debase her nubile, taut, female flesh while her spell-shrouded senses blind her to her lover's pudgy physique.

I know I should be horrified - but the more amoral aspects of my personality can't help but be slightly impressed with our clever young spell caster. As round and repugnant as he might appear, there's not a red-blooded Renaissance rogue who doesn't peer slyly across at our portly pal and his concupiscent concubine without envy.

And to be the fat, sweaty sorcerer everybody's jealous of? Well, that's pretty good going in my book!

Spanking Swords?

2008-07-21T08:54:00.000-07:00

A while ago, the delicious Pandora set us a challenge to find pictures of lovely young wenches spanked by swords (the non-sharp part, obviously.)

It seemed like an impossible task. Renaissance swordsmen seem like pretty regular blokes at the end of the day (and, like normal men, are interested in bypassing the shilly-shallying and getting right down to penetration. Ahem, with a sharp blade, I clarify.)

That being said, amidst my online endeavours to find more fine young faire-fillies to fawn over, I stumbled across this lovely young wench about the get the non-business end of a short-sword firmly across the breadth of her ripe, round rump.

Good show! Hopefully Pandora will be pleased.

What magyck is this?

2008-07-18T13:48:00.001-07:00

Hail and well met, my friends...

Yes, tomfoolery is afoot. As you will see from the whirling, shifting shape of this marvelous blog, things at Renaissance Babes are changing. But fear not! It shall be, as always, for the better.

Firstly, my friends, I, Le Compte Delasoif, loyal friend, scribe and narrator, will be posting more and more often, in order to whet thine appetite with more Renaissance beauties and other medieval mischief.

In addition, my most treasured readers, this blog shall become home to some exciting features intended to assist you in embracing more fully the Renaissance lifestyle.

But all change takes time! Rome, as the actress said to the Bishop, was not built in a day. So until then, sit back, pour yourself a flagon of ale and enjoy a repeat performance by our last lovely.

Girl + Sword + Tree

2008-07-15T13:27:00.001-07:00

Sorry about the lack of posts! an awful lot has been going on in my shire, so I've had things other to think about than bountiful, beautiful babes in Renaissance glory.

But I'm back - and here's some great stuff for you. A heavily armed redhead who climbs a tree almost as nicely as she fills out her armour.

More soon, good people. I promise!

Renfair Goodies!

2008-06-19T10:05:00.000-07:00

Although chain mail is fiendishly uncomfortable against the skin (have you ever hugged a crusader?) it's always a favourite at Renaissance Fairs.

Not that I'm complaining...

The best thing about Renaissance Fairs is that you don't have to be some six-packed, anorexic bimbo to wear (and look stunning in) sexy outfits.

Belly dancing is almost a celebration of the pudgy bits - not that either of these ladies could possibly be described as pudgy.

When I saw this next picture, I immediately thought: 'Sex in the Medieval City.'

Female friendship and fashion hasn't changed a thing - only nobody in the middle ages knew how to mix a cosmopolitan.

And, finally, here's just one more reason why Renaissance Fairs are so wonderful to visit! I like the pumpkin motif on her rump especially!

Swords

2008-06-18T08:26:00.000-07:00

Swords are awesome. I don't see why so many Americans get their knickers in a twist about the 2nd Amendment, since swords are so much cooler than guns. Guns are loud, noisy, go off accidentally and run out of bullets. A sword, on the other hand, is swift, silent and can slash and stab all day long without needing to be reloaded.

I sometimes long for the days when men carried swords strapped to their waists. As an item of fashion, a sword could express your personality in a far more dramatic way than a neck-tie. I'd always fancied a rapier with a fancy handle myself - suggesting that I was quick, sharp, accurate and elegant. Other people might like a heavy cutlass, because they cut right to the chase (and the bone.) Some people might even prefer a cane (because these people were blunt and couldn't be trusted around pointy things.)

Beyond just looking cool, swords are useful. You can't spit roast a chicken on a handgun. Try cutting string with a semi-automatic. You can crush coffee beans with the hilt of a broadsword just as effectively as the butt of a Smith and Wesson and, when it comes to the crunch, killing wildlife might be easier with a shotgun, but you can't skin it or fillet it afterwards without a length of sharp, shiny steel.

And, finally, carrying swords about would keep people in line.

Somebody cut in front of you at the bank? "I demand satisfaction, sir!"

Road rage? Let's see somebody change lanes without using their turn signals if they can expect a shaft of cold steel through their window at the next stop light.

I'd certainly feel safer walking down the street knowing that the next person who yells 'Oi, Ginger!' would risk a rapier through their ribcage.

Gun nuts are always going on about the 'deterrent' value of handguns. Personally, I think I'd deter far more sociopathic shenanigans with a length of Toledo steel strapped to my belt.

To paraphrase that great philosopher, Dexter Fletcher - 'guns for show, swords for a pro.'

Now where's my blade? I've got some shopping to do.

Pandora's Sword

2008-06-09T11:52:00.001-07:00

Hail and well met, my lords, ladies and you worthless untitled scum. Please keep to the backs, you vermin.

It is I, Lord Delasoif, your friend and mentor - and muchly apologising for the laxity of my previous postings.

I'm about to update with some more pictures of lovely Renaissance wenches, but before I do - I thought I'd grace you all with a post that's got sweetmeats for the brain as well as the eye.

There's a wonderful wench called Pandora Blake, over at Pandora's Bot. She's the stuff Renaissance Babes are made of - beautiful, British and more than likely found in a compromising costume! She's also rather fond of corporal punishment, which just makes us love her all the more.

Pandora recently wrote about a fantasy of hers - being smacked soundly on the rump with a rapier (or sword in general.) Swords, of course, aren't just for hacking, slashing, stabbing and using to make rudimentary shish-kebabs on. Using the flat of the blade (translation - the non-stabby bits) it's the perfect instrument to use as a painful, but non-perilous punishment provider!

Sadly, the Internets are bereft of swordly spanking pictures, but possibly Pandora might provide some on her blog in due course. Perhaps if we talk nicely to her, you might see one of them on Renaissance Babes...

Sorry for the Delay...

2008-06-05T13:43:00.001-07:00

Normal - or at least more regular - service will continue shortly...

Belly Love

2008-05-21T11:45:00.001-07:00

Nostalgia

2008-04-29T13:56:00.001-07:00

Maybe those britches aren't typically 'Renaissance,' but there's something wonderful about this sword-wielding wench. She actually reminds me of an old flame, so I thought she deserved a post all of her very own.

Scarlet Girl with Sword

2008-04-29T13:51:00.000-07:00

I've already mentioned my fondness for redheads. I also having something of a fondness for girls who wear red. A very passionate colour - which is a character trait being wary of when a young maiden comes so fearsomely armed.

You can buy her stunning sword from Reliks.

Quick update!

2008-04-28T06:11:00.000-07:00

More Renaissance Lovelies

2008-04-23T07:45:00.001-07:00

Sorry about the delay, but the commute from the 16th century is a nightmare.

Middle Ages Spread

2008-04-17T09:47:00.001-07:00

A Pirate Wench's worst nightmare...

2008-04-17T09:44:00.000-07:00

You turn up to plunder yer booty - and three other pirate wenches turn up in EXACTLY the same outfits...

No...

2008-04-16T12:21:00.001-07:00

...I have no idea what is going on in these pictures either.

Beautiful Renaissance Babes

2008-04-11T08:11:00.000-07:00

A little something for the weekend, m'lord?

Liger Girls

2008-04-11T08:05:00.000-07:00

Possibly one of the coolest sights in the world is a beautiful Renaissance Babe in a little leather outfit messing about with a 750lb pussycat.

The kitty in question is a Liger - a cross between a male lion and a female tiger. The offspring is generally infertile, but combines the looks, grace and stripes of a tiger with the bulk and athleticism of a lion. Due to a genetic confusion, male Ligers are permanently in a state of adolescence, meaning they keep growing and growing and growing - easily surpassing both their parent breeds and becoming, quite simply, the biggest pussy on the planet.

And yes, our Renn Babe is feeding him milk out of a bottle. No matter how big the kitty, all of them love milk. Milk and occasionally succulent Renaissance Babe flesh.

There's more to life than boobies!

2008-04-09T07:31:00.001-07:00

Just for the record, it's not all about ridiculous cleavage and anacronistically industrious bustiers at the Renaissance Faire. Being a Renaissance Babe is as much about attitude as attire.

Worship the belly!

2008-04-07T09:11:00.001-07:00

Belly Dancers are a favorite at Renaissance Faires... And you can't be a belly dancer unless you've got a little jiggle in you.

Too Renn'd out to write...

2008-04-03T11:53:00.001-07:00

Valeria

2008-04-02T07:52:00.000-07:00

This Renaissance Babe's costume is clearly modeled after Valeria's - the Barbarian babe played by Sandahl_Bergman in the 1982 movie Conan the Barbarian.

It just happens that this young lady is much, much pretty. But I wonder how handy she is with a sword?

The Pirate Beauty

2008-04-01T09:40:00.001-07:00

I felt this magnificent pirate maiden was so awesome, she deserved a post entirely to herself.

Stunning. I adore the way her back's arched, her head's held high and she can swivel those hips when she walks so her flagon of ale doesn't even splash.

Hooray for the Wench!

2008-04-01T09:23:00.000-07:00

The term 'wench' is wonderful.

It's not offensive - unless you want it to be.

For most Renaissance babes, the term 'wench' suggests a hearty, salt-of-the-earth lass who embraces life and love. Probably embracing it directly into her heaving Renaissance cleavage!

To some people, the term 'wench' suggests bawdy and promiscuous behaviour. However, in our more enlightened 21st century (even if we're in a reenactment of the middle ages) neither self-confessed 'wench' nor her adoring male fans would probably consider this a bad thing!

But just for the record, here's what the dictionary says:

wench /wɛntʃ/ –noun
1. a country lass or working girl: The milkmaid was a healthy wench.
2. Usually Facetious. a girl or young woman.
3. Archaic. a strumpet. –verb (used without object)
4. to associate, esp. habitually, with promiscuous women.

More Renaissance Beauties...

2008-03-31T10:23:00.000-07:00

Kicking off with a stunning redhead...

Just Beautiful...

2008-03-28T11:37:00.000-07:00

No silicon injections. No caked-on make-up. In fact, Renaissance Babes are some of the most naturally beautiful women around.

When will society learn that it doesn't take a neon tan, peroxide hair and swollen implants to make a woman beautiful?

Better Red than Dead

2008-03-28T06:54:00.000-07:00

Although genetics is threatening to make the trait extinct, some of the original and finest Renaissance Babes had gorgeous red hair. It's nice to see this is still a sight to enjoy at most modern Renn Faires.

So, behold. The flame-haired beauties... Only redheads need apply to be featured in this post.

Hot Metal

2008-03-27T11:51:00.000-07:00

Red Sonja was the comic-book counterpart of Conan the Barbarian - and she kept clothing to a minimum.

And although a tiny chain-mail bikini might not be all that practical as armour, it's certainly a popular choice for girls attending Renaissance Fairs. As barbarian warriors or beautiful belly dancers, they certainly raise the temperature (even if their outfits let them feel the breeze!)

Ready for action!

2008-03-26T10:04:00.000-07:00

Our first picture proves that you don't need an industrial bustier to be a Renaissance Babe. A lovely smile, a razor-sharp dagger and a rather fetching hat more than compensate!

But it's business-as-normal with the wenches that follow!

And they shall bring ye ALE!

2008-03-25T11:04:00.000-07:00

There are fewer more popular Renn Faire babes than the ones who work the pubs and tap-houses. Their cheerful duty is to satisfy the thirsty - and they do so in more ways than one!

I believe these charming young ladies were snapped at a Renn Faire in Texas - where rising temperatures and plunging necklines conspire to keep many-a-man anxious for a trip to the beer merchants.

Welcome to Renaissance Babes!

2008-03-25T10:41:00.001-07:00

Renaissance Babes is a simple project - a resource to enjoy the feminine charms of that most rare and desirable of women - the Renn Faire Babe.

Why are Renn Faire babes so wonderful?

With a decent bustier, Renn Faire babes don't NEED silicon implants.
Men love a woman who can handle a sword. Or an axe. Or a dagger.
Women who quaff flagons of ale are hot. End of story.
English accents - even unconvincing ones - are cute.
Did we mention the bustier thing?
Joan of Arc. Queen Elizabeth I. Even female pirate Anne Bonney. All proof that Renn Faire babes had this feminist thing sewn up centuries ago.
What would you rather talk about? The ins-and-outs of practical pirating - or where the best place to get your nails done is? Renn Faire babes win hands down...
Thigh-high leather boots?

This blog will be a oft-updated chronicle of Renn Faire loveliness. I am aiming for three updates a week of the hottest Renaissance beauties I can scour from 'the Internets.'

Come early. Come often. Prithy leave comments (but no spam or unchivalrous behaviour, m'lords and ladies.)

With the greatest of respect,

Lord Delasoif, master-at-arms of Renaissance Babes