WWJ XIII: 'Til Death Do We LARP - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

JennyHallu · 11-07-2006, 11:10 AM

It was late in the evening before the carpool carrying the Ridgecrest Live Action Fantasy Club pulled into the campground at Ridgecrest National Park. The members tumbled out of their cars and vans, stretching and stiffly starting the work of unloading and setting up camp before the sun went down.

Jenny Hallu, deep in her third term as president of the club, set up her pavilion quickly and set up her folding chair in front of the door, looking out over the people who belonged to her little demesne. They hadn't had any new members in the last several years, but neither had they lost anyone, and Jenny knew all of them closely. She was deeply familiar with the most intimate details of their personal lives, and with the histories of the fantastical characters they played on week-ends. All had long since gotten over any feelings of self-consciousness about their hobby, and camp set-up was going as smoothly as it ever had. Jenny watched them all, mentally going over her tidy alphabetical roster.

Anguirel was painfully putting together his tentpoles. It looked as though his arthritis was acting up again, but Boromir88 had cheerfully fallen into the role of his young apprentice, and was erecting the old man's tent before working on his own.

His Lordship CaptainofDespair was talking loudly and huffily about his desperate need of a lackey, but Boromir seemed to be ignoring him for now. Jenny couldn't wait until he fell into character for the weekend. Melneras was much less abrasive.

Diamond had already fallen into character...well, mostly. She'd erected her tent, and seemed to be alphabetizing her spells.

Durelin was a local celebrity. As the only starcaptain to make Ridgecrest home, Durelin's interest in the club had thrilled Jenny. Of course, her creativity had dulled when it came to making a character, but as Durelin stepped out of her tent in costume, Jenny had to admit her skills with props were amazing. Her costume was perfect, from the gold felt shirt down to the girdle.

Farael was humming to himself as he worked, the words unintelligible. His handmade tent was low and dark, and nearly impossible to see when searching for the bathrooms after dark. Jenny'd tripped over it more than once, then screeched as spidery fingers closed about her ankle. Creepy little fellow...but he did get everyone concert tickets every year.

Gurthang was, as usual, in the process of giving up his tent site to someone else, namely Naria, who was threatening the poor meek man with her flute and a caged rat. The argument threatened to get loud as Naria strove to be heard over Gurthang's apologies, but Nogrod delayed tying up his leg to practice his drill manner on both of them, always an effective tactic.

Rikae was difficult to see. She seemed to be digging a cave, her eyes closed. Jenny knew without looking that the hole would be exactly six feet deep. Rikae liked to sleep almost underground...

Rune's tent was finished quickly, and he hurried over to help Thinlómien with hers, as it seemed to be taking a definite list to one direction. Thinlómien was another who suffered from arthritis, though it was much more doubtful that she was aware of it.

Valier was easy to see, even though a tent stood between Jenny and her...her mohawk could be easily followed as she paced back and forth in front of her tent, trying to get her pointy ears to stick.

Lastly, Volo was juggling his cellphone and his multitude of weaponry, as usual trying to get in one last sale before the dinner hour was definitively over.

Folwren, the vice-president, was sitting beside her, and caught Jenny's sleepy nod. They shared the large tent, and would share the midnight work of distributing the secret roles.

Jenny quietly slipped into her tent and shut the flap. She had a lot to do to prepare for the game tomorrow, and a few hours sleep before she had to be up and about wouldn't hurt.

A cold breeze followed her in, ruffling through her planning notebooks. In her sleep, she thought she heard dark laughter. Folwren wrapped her coat tighter around herself, with a creepy feeling that something was breathing down her neck.

11-07-2006, 11:10 AM	#1
JennyHallu The Pearl, The Lily Maid Join Date: Jan 2006 Location: In my luxury Barrow, snuggled up in a pile of satin pillows, eating fresh fruit. Posts: 1,628	WWJ XIII: 'Til Death Do We LARP It was late in the evening before the carpool carrying the Ridgecrest Live Action Fantasy Club pulled into the campground at Ridgecrest National Park. The members tumbled out of their cars and vans, stretching and stiffly starting the work of unloading and setting up camp before the sun went down. Jenny Hallu, deep in her third term as president of the club, set up her pavilion quickly and set up her folding chair in front of the door, looking out over the people who belonged to her little demesne. They hadn't had any new members in the last several years, but neither had they lost anyone, and Jenny knew all of them closely. She was deeply familiar with the most intimate details of their personal lives, and with the histories of the fantastical characters they played on week-ends. All had long since gotten over any feelings of self-consciousness about their hobby, and camp set-up was going as smoothly as it ever had. Jenny watched them all, mentally going over her tidy alphabetical roster. Anguirel was painfully putting together his tentpoles. It looked as though his arthritis was acting up again, but Boromir88 had cheerfully fallen into the role of his young apprentice, and was erecting the old man's tent before working on his own. His Lordship CaptainofDespair was talking loudly and huffily about his desperate need of a lackey, but Boromir seemed to be ignoring him for now. Jenny couldn't wait until he fell into character for the weekend. Melneras was much less abrasive. Diamond had already fallen into character...well, mostly. She'd erected her tent, and seemed to be alphabetizing her spells. Durelin was a local celebrity. As the only starcaptain to make Ridgecrest home, Durelin's interest in the club had thrilled Jenny. Of course, her creativity had dulled when it came to making a character, but as Durelin stepped out of her tent in costume, Jenny had to admit her skills with props were amazing. Her costume was perfect, from the gold felt shirt down to the girdle. Farael was humming to himself as he worked, the words unintelligible. His handmade tent was low and dark, and nearly impossible to see when searching for the bathrooms after dark. Jenny'd tripped over it more than once, then screeched as spidery fingers closed about her ankle. Creepy little fellow...but he did get everyone concert tickets every year. Gurthang was, as usual, in the process of giving up his tent site to someone else, namely Naria, who was threatening the poor meek man with her flute and a caged rat. The argument threatened to get loud as Naria strove to be heard over Gurthang's apologies, but Nogrod delayed tying up his leg to practice his drill manner on both of them, always an effective tactic. Rikae was difficult to see. She seemed to be digging a cave, her eyes closed. Jenny knew without looking that the hole would be exactly six feet deep. Rikae liked to sleep almost underground... Rune's tent was finished quickly, and he hurried over to help Thinlómien with hers, as it seemed to be taking a definite list to one direction. Thinlómien was another who suffered from arthritis, though it was much more doubtful that she was aware of it. Valier was easy to see, even though a tent stood between Jenny and her...her mohawk could be easily followed as she paced back and forth in front of her tent, trying to get her pointy ears to stick. Lastly, Volo was juggling his cellphone and his multitude of weaponry, as usual trying to get in one last sale before the dinner hour was definitively over. Folwren, the vice-president, was sitting beside her, and caught Jenny's sleepy nod. They shared the large tent, and would share the midnight work of distributing the secret roles. Jenny quietly slipped into her tent and shut the flap. She had a lot to do to prepare for the game tomorrow, and a few hours sleep before she had to be up and about wouldn't hurt. A cold breeze followed her in, ruffling through her planning notebooks. In her sleep, she thought she heard dark laughter. Folwren wrapped her coat tighter around herself, with a creepy feeling that something was breathing down her neck. __________________ <=== Lookee, lookee, lots of IM handles!