I thought this might be a fun, albeit gruesome, little bit, and since I have a particularly nasty one, AND am feeling a bit impish, I’ll go first.

The only rule is that it must be work-related. You know, fingers in splints from those 23-hour coding marathons, or compound fractures of the carpal tunnel… that sort of thing.

Here is mine:

I got this while fight choreographing a video for the song “Freya” by “The Sword.” The shoot was a blast. The band was just awesome, truly a great bunch of guys that I wish only the best for, and director Barnaby Roper was a joy to work with.

I arrived on set while the band was shooting their sync shots, so the other actors and I decided to warm up a bit, and just get used to the feel of the weapons.  We had an array of prop weapons, made from plastic and high-density foam, plus one real, live-steel sword that would be the primary character’s weapon.

After a few minutes of moving around the space, one of the over-zealous actors said, “Oh, cool!  A REAL one!”  He grabbed the live-steel sword and began waving it around in a very unsafe manner, sending all of us ducking for cover – literally.  Not wanting to assume leadership, but also not wanting anyone to get hurt, and realizing that I was obviously the only person there with any sort of weapons training, I offered to do a mini stage combat class for everyone’s safety.  This was met with thankful glances from the other actors, and afforded me the opportunity to gain control of the live-steel sword as my weapon.

When we finally began shooting the fight scenes, one of the actors suggested to the director that I be the lead fighter, but he had his eye on another person for that role… the “Oh, cool!  A REAL one!” guy.  I was worried for all of us, but with the work we had done in the class I figured we had handled the proximity issues and learned enough basic safety to get through the shots with no injuries.

After hearing the style and overall story, I offered to choreograph a lengthy battle that could cut as a single shot or be chopped up for impact and pacing.  The director agreed, and I took the actors, now in full armor and equipped with their weapons, out into the parking lot to begin.

It was hotter than hell that day, and we were all sweating profusely, which I figured would help further reduce any chances of injury as the plastic and foam blades would slide easily on our slippery skin.  After putting together a chain where the main fighter kills 8 consecutive enemies in a series of sweeping motions, he comes to the final foe, played by me.  He drops his sword and yanks a spear from the body lying at his feet and charges.  The choreography was set so that he would fake to my leg and as the thrust was moving to its target the spear would glide upward to enter just beneath the chin and exit the back of my head.  A fluid feint with a lethal outcome.  Since we were shooting behind a scrim we could do this such that the track I was working in was five feet upstage of the track he was working in.  The scrim would compress this for the camera and make it look like we were right on top of each other.

With the moves all set we ran the sequence several times at half-speed to make sure everyone knew exactly what they were doing.  It looked great, and I was very proud of it.  For increased safety, and a bit of polish, we decided to run it at full-speed.  As the body count grew, so did the fervor with which the lead actor portrayed his part, turning back into the dangerous sword-flailing “Oh, cool!  A REAL one!” guy from earlier in the day.  As he grabbed the spear and approached me for the final kill, our five feet apart, parallel tracks began to converge, and with great enthusiasm he faked the leg thrust and ran the spear into my arm.

Now, bear in mind that this spear-head is made of very flexible high-density foam, maybe a bit more stiff than your average mouse pad.  But somehow, overcoming the ease of bending, and my very slippery skin, he managed to thrust that seemingly-innocuous blade almost 5 inches up my arm, through the fascia and muscle tissue, stopping at the base of my tricep.

The actor froze, horrified, his face going gray with shock.  I, on the other hand, valiantly, heroically, courageously, looked down at my arm… and cried.  No, actually, I looked down at this six-foot long spear sticking out of my arm, and the first thing that went through my head was, “Wow!  That thing is really in there…”  And then without thinking at all, I reached down and wrenched the thing from my arm, releasing a wave of blood, and drawing shocked gasps from the crowd of people that had now formed.  I think that was when it hit me, and the shock set in.  I slumped against an open tail-gate of a pick-up truck, and one of the other actors rushed over, tearing off his shirt and tying a tight tourniquet just above the wound.  The spear-wielder was muttering, “I am so sorry…” over and over, and then the producer appeared to see what was going.  I was holding it together fairly well, but a wave of nausea washed over as he approached and I swooned a bit.  Then I realized that it was being compounded by the smoke from him nervously puffing on a cigarette.  “Uh, Thom… would you mind putting that out, or moving away for a bit?” I asked.  “Oh SHIT!  I’m sorry…”

Next thing I knew I was in his car rushing to Cedar’s Sinai Emergency Room.  And then the fun began.  I got in very quickly, and when the attending physician heard my story, he looked me directly in the eye and said, “Well why did you take it out?!?!  That would have made a great photograph!”  I needed, and appreciated the humor, which made me feel much better.  I was turned over to a male nurse, a truly MASSIVE Samoan with a similar sense of humor, who proceeded to wash and debride the wound with syringes full of betadine.  I told him that the spear had gone far up my arm, indicating the point where it stopped beneath the flesh, and he responded with, “No way…”  I assured him it did, so he filled a 10cc syringe with betadine, and fitted it with a splash guard.  He then pressed it hard over the wound a jammed the plunger down.  The ENTIRE 10ccs disappeared into the wound and up my arm.  The nurse looked me right in the eye and uttered a heartfelt, “Whoooa…”  He cleaned me up, the doc came in a sewed me up with 10 stitches, and sent me on my way.

Back on the set we managed to get the choreography captured with no more injuries, aside from me bursting two stitches in the final death scene.

That’s mine.  Now, tell me yours!