Karl Redstone
A Great Loss
I received this email on Sunday 10/01/06.
Good Citizen's of our most fair Barony,
It is with such a heavy heart that I greet you this morning with the news that a
short while ago I received a call from the site of Banner War, and that Dragon's
Laire and An Tir has lost a great friend. Last night at Banner War, HL Karl
Redstone fell ill and passed from us all. A senior constable, a ferocious
fighter, and one of the kindest and gentlest of men, Karl will be so sorely
missed.
Many times over the years, I have called on Karl to act as Constable in Charge
of an event, or to be there to help. The answer was always the same, "Aye Lass,
I'll be there for ye." And he always was, displaying his great joy of life and
the SCA and using his amazing ability to walk into any situation de-escalating
the drama and treating calmly and fairly all with whom he dealt.
Please remember as we all grapple to cope with this sudden loss to send thoughts
and prayers to his beloved wife HL Shaughnessy, as she deals with her even
greater loss.
Cedric and Brighid
I know this is a terrible loss to all of us. Any who are able, please support HL Shaughnessy in any way possible. Please add to this page if you have more information.
http://i64.photobucket.com/albums/h182/nessalouise/715562786_l.jpg
I have just heard the news here all the way in England and my heart grieves for a friend that will be missed.
I remember Karl Redstone who rescued me at a Banner war over ten years ago. I was tentless and a distraught youngster then or Lass as he referred me as. He took me into his encampment and found me a dry surface to place my sleeping attire in a spare tent.
Later that evening I overheard the discussion of my presence being unwelcome in his encampment by another and rather then complicate matters for Karl, I slipped away with my things even more distraught and slowly being drowned by the rain.
He was furious with me when he discovered I was gone. He hunted the entire site looking for me and found me with the not yet formed House Gremlins. There were only three of the guys there. He berated me greatly and said under no argument I was to get back to that encampment.
Over the years when I was around in Antir much more than the last 11 years, Karl and his household made me welcome at their fires. Sharing songs and stories with a distraught little person like me. He still collected people up along the years and watched out for us all.
I honour Karl and his lady.
Katell of Ifield 'aka Kitty'
This photo was taken just before the first battle of this year's Banner War. Our household was fighting with Karl and this is taken from the group photo. We will all miss him.
Muireann inghean ui Rodain
Company of St. Ulrich
Glymm Mere
http://www.hubbardhollow.com/Karl.jpg
From Stanton MacLlyr, merchant, bard, fighter and friend. I have known Karl for many years, and have many fond memories of him that I will cherish forever. Right after I heard about his passing, this is what came to mind. Karl, and his Lady Shaugnessy have both remarked on many occasions that they liked my stories (just not my singing :), so I thought I'd add this. Rest well, Karl, for you have earned it my friend.....
Leaving the battlefield, annoyed at his shortness of breath and feeling tired, is a man short of stature but broad of shoulder and heavily bearded. At his side, a drinking horn painted with a sword point down on a red and black shield. He is feeling poorly, and is doubly annoyed at missing the fighting on the war field. He lies down, after telling his concerned friends and family that he’ll be fine after he rests a while. Waking up from what was supposed to be a short nap, the man finds himself armored, bearing 2 swords, standing on the Bifrost Bridge. Behind him, he sees only swirling mists, but he can hear many voices. Most of the voices are crying, and several are calling his name, but one voice stands out from the rest. It the clear, beautiful voice of a woman singing, in perfect pitch, a song he doesn’t recognize. He knows the voice belongs to his wife, and he can tell that the song is one of loss. He turns to return to her, to comfort her, but he finds he can’t go back. He turns away, and sees that ahead of him, Baldur is standing guard, motioning for him to cross the bridge. “I am sorry to see you here so soon Karl Redstone, but know you are expected and will be welcomed into Valhalla. You have been a valiant warrior, a loving father and husband, and a loyal friend. All those who knew you will miss you, and your memory will not be forgotten. But now it is time for you to claim the final reward you have earned. Over there, beyond that gate, lies Valhalla. Syn guards that gate, and he lets none pass who have not earned the right through loyalty, courage, and honor, both on and off the battlefield.” Not knowing what else to do, Karl walks to the gate, and indeed Syn stands before it, sword in hand. “Who are you that would pass into Valhalla” he asks, his voice booming out like thunder. “I am Karl Redstone, but I do not know how I came to be here.” At the mention of his name, Syn lowers his sword, and reads from the the scroll he holds in his free hand. “Karl Redstone, warrior in service to his country, as well as his kingdom. Guardian of the weak, defender of the just, well loved by friends and family, and respected by all who have crossed swords with you. Karl Redstone, last night, you lay down sickened, and your soul was plucked forth, and brought here by the Valkyries. Enter now, for the feast in your honor is just beginning. “ Shaking his head slowly, as if to figure out what was happening, Karl passes through the gates and enters a grand feast hall. The hall is huge, built of solid timbers intricately carved by master craftsmen, and seems ageless, as if it has stood here throughout the ages. The far corners are lost in shadows, but nearby a large fireplace burns cheerily. There are a great many people in the hall, and all of them seem to waiting for him. As he looks at individual faces for the first time, he realizes he knows many of these people. They are dear friends he has missed, and many brave and bold warriors. As he surveys the crowd, meeting the gazes of friends in all directions, a familiar voice asks “May I fill you horn, Father?” Karl turns to see his daughter, dressed as one of the Valkyries, holding a large pitcher of ale. She fills his horn as she says “I did not expect you so soon, but now we can spend some time together. But that will have to wait, for it is time for you to take your place among the heroes at the high table”. She leads him to the head of the hall, where a place of honor has been waiting for him. All of his favorite foods are waiting for him, along with kegs of ale and mead. “My friends, I never expected any of this, and have not done anything to deserve this kind of recognition. This is all just too much for me.” Karl turns to leave, but his daughter gently pushes him into his seat. First one warrior, then others tell the tales of Karl Redstone. Tales of strength, not just of muscle, but of character. Tales of kindness, generosity and love. Tales of duty, honor and sound judgment. Tales from the tourney field and from the warfield. Tales from feasthall and Bardic circle. Tales of long nights as a constable, and long weekends as a merchant. The tales last well into the night, and by the time everyone has had a chance to speak, Karl has accepted his rightful place among the heroes of old. Never again will his joints ache, nor will a long day of fighting exhaust him. Now he shall spend his days fighting, and his old body will forever have the vigor of youth. His evenings will be spent feasting with the other heroes, and together they shall await the final battle of Ragnarok, when the world shall be destroyed, and then made anew.
These are my memories of HL Sgt. Karl Redstone.
Sgt. Karl Redstone, beloved husband to HL Shaughnessy, a friend, a fellow sergeant, a fellow veteran, a fellow Norse, a someone who would lend a hand, a comforting word and a beer when need. Karl was always quick with a “No Sh*t, there I was” story, SCA or military. My earliest memories of meeting Karl were at an Egils in the 1980’s. I do not remember which Egils it was but it was at Fern Ridge Resevrvator in Oregon. I was amazed when he took off his wig. You see, Karl was in the Marine and could not wear his hair long for his Norse personae. Other memories are of him riding his trike, giving rides to the children.
One Blatha an Oir event, unknown lost in mist of time, a water squirt gun was handed. Children of all ages, some larger than others, rode around squirting the populace. Among the hapless victims of the said rampage was the esteemed Baroness Isabeau of BAO. She immediately evoked Baroness’ privilege and confiscated the said squirt gun. With Karl as her charioteer, Baroness Isabeau demonstrated her skill with the said pistolea among the populace, much to everyone’s enjoyment.
On the mundane side of life, Karl or Tony Burtis, was a Marine Sergeant during Vietnam. During the Saigon embressy evacuation in 1975, the last marine out of the embassy, the short little guy on the end, leaving was Karl or Sgt. Tony Burits.
During his Sargent’s trials, Karl was so sure that he failed. In fact his words were that he went down in flames. I had to keep reassuring him that was not the case. When Baroness Isabeau called him forth. his shocked look was something to behold. He later told me that the Sargent’s buckle was just about his proudest moment in the SCA.
Karl always provided a willing hand to anyone. I forgot my tent poles at this last June Fair. Without hesitation he offered the use of his second tent so I did not have to go back home for the poles. As a fellow merchant, he would often help us pack and load up our van.
Karl and Shaughnessy would often provide prizes for contests, a lot of times without any one asking for anything. His Renaissance personae of The Bridge Troll will be long remembered by many. His other personae fitted him very well. When he put on his Troll helmet, he was Gimli from Lord of the Rings. His mannerism, his garb and general demure was a joy to behold. Karl was a senior constable. His gentle ways and presence was a source of comfort and inspiration to the rest of the constablity and populace. He helped to promote the peace at many events, often defusing bad situations. He was a calm influence to many. I am quite sure there are many tales of his constablity. I will miss Karl, GREATLY. There is a big hole in heart for my brother. HL Yeoman Knut