“Every weekend I get to be a warrior,” said Brad “Finn Tehviking” Erla, a CMU alumnus and long-time member of the registered student organization. “It’s awesome.”

The combatants were members of Dagorhir Battle Games, a national association which organizes full-contact battle games inspired by fantasy literature and medieval history — its name is taken from the "Lord of the Rings" Elvish language term for “battle lords.”

It may sound familiar to people acquainted with dice-based role-playing games like Dungeons & Dragons, but according to the website, the similarities end with their mutual love for fantasy fiction.

“Dagorhir is a sport, not a tabletop game,” the site states. “Dagorhir is athletically challenging.”

The organization, which was founded in 1977 according to the official website dagorhir.com, uses a single set of rules for all of its subunits while prioritizing “safety, playability and realism.”

The rules specify how to make safe weaponry that can be swung at full force without injuring opponents, how to determine the winners and losers of a spar and when period or fantasy-inspired garb is required.

Fight knights

While assuming the identity of a fantastic or historical warrior is encouraged, the degree to which participants emphasize straight-up combat games versus role-playing varies.

“This game, to me, is about the fighting first and foremost,” Erla said.

That inclination was typical to many members of the group, who said they considered Dagorhir at CMU more of a big group of friends to get together and beat (safely) more than an in-depth theatrical pursuit.

Ashley “Brinje” Bonem, an alumna and founder of Dagorhir at CMU, said the basic nature of their sport lends it some levity.

“It’s really hard to take yourself seriously when you carry a pillow on a stick and wear a costume,” Bonem said.

She does, however, take her commitment to “Dag” and the group of friends she has formed around it very seriously.

She started the student group in spring of 2008, after graduating from high school in Midland and enrolling at CMU. She found herself deprived of the combat and camaraderie she grew to love with her friends back home and began to post flyers calling for a new group.

Since then, the club with eight members has grown to regularly host 25 to 35 people at its events, said group president Chris “Corvus” Roy, a Livonia senior.

“The cool thing is, the game is willing to accept any level of commitment,” Roy said.

However, CMU’s Dagorhir activities are not limited to wearing costumes and bashing one another with foam weapons. Someone has to sew those costumes and craft those weapons.

Crystal “Trea Greyjoy” Sanders, a “noncombatant,” enjoys the atmosphere of the events and the creativity Dagorhir’s do-it-yourself attitude encourages.

“I like to be artistic: sewing, making shield-covers, tunics, dresses,” the Mount Pleasant resident said. “I like being challenged.”

She said she first began crafting for the group when her husband came home one day and said he needed garb for battle.

She has been sewing, embroidering and otherwise patching together the equipment, which makes Dagorhir at CMU more than a bunch of roughly college-age people beating each other with sticks ever since.

Sanders particularly enjoys the group’s creative exchanges, and said several participants have crafted a few costume pieces of their own as well as wearing her and other people’s contributions.

Battle buddies

Sanders’ favorite aspect, however, is the community.

“It’s very accepting of everybody,” she said. “You don’t see that very often.”

Midland resident Jordan “Erlend” Walmsley agreed.

“It’s not so much about the fighting as it is the people,” Walmsley said.

Ragnarok, Dagorhir’s largest social event, is a week-long festival held every June in Cooper’s Lake Campground in Slippery Rock, Penn., which regularly brings 1,600 together to battle and socialize, according to its section of the website.

Much of its appeal comes from the potential to rub elbows and trade blows with people from all over the country — sometimes without ever knowing their real names, Walmsley said.

The friendships he has forged by the campfire as well as on battlegrounds are unlike any he has with “normal friends,” he said.

Walmsley is a construction worker, though only three of his coworkers are aware of his regular participation in Dagorhir.

He said the fantasy atmosphere and potential to be almost anything players want to be make for a perfect escape from the daily grind.

“You don’t have to hide who you are here,” Walmsley said.

Erla also said he enjoys Dagorhir as a pressure release from his real-world occupation as an accountant (bean-counter, as he put it) for Dow Chemical Company in Midland.

“When I started my big-boy job, I realized I’ve got to stay in Dag or I’ll lose my mind,” he said. “Life can be so very mundane sometimes.”

Though the game can become a lifelong commitment as part of a far-reaching community, Roy said it all comes back to living out legends for most participants.

“The crush of a shield wall, storming a castle … You can be a warrior, you can run into battle and die a hundred times,” he said.

Walmsley was eager to express his all-consuming love of Dagorhir.

“This has been, and always will be, the most fun I have ever had,” he said. “It’s just a game, but it’s one hell of a good game.”