Friends of mine would be in the know by now that I have a new job. It just so happens that I get this on April 1st? If it’s a joke then I think I have another three hours to ride it out before I can safely accept that I actually have gainful employment again.
I sit with baited breath, awaiting the phonecall from my employer to skitter a dry chuckle down the line like a mischievous deity of tricks and meaniness.
I can’t tell you whom it’s with since public social media is visible and all that.
I’ll tell you this for free though: they spelt my name wrong on my documents. Do they think that I misspelt my own name or something? Is it an error on their part? I’ve got no idea but apparently my name is Mr. Sparkey.
How do people even make this mistake?
Image by Roy Smallpage, Dumnonni LARP September 2014
Any guesses what happened to me on the weekend? That’s right: I got wet, winded, and mudded, and those first two apply on more than one level. So the above image isn’t quite correct as to what I was up to since the image was last year of me playing the event, yet this event was crewing the thing.
Rain, wind, and mud seemed to be the order of the weekend though, and that’s where I saw my lovely partner vanish behind a tent that was quickly gaining altitude away from mud and clay and toward fence and tree. She’s okay though.
The offending tent was quickly
murdered put down and dumped at a local landfill site.
Other memories jump around my head like cheeky little
monsters kids who won’t go to bed, and are so much better than seeing a campier version of The Wizard of Oz.
Playing a Saxon harassing the Free People of Culhaven in a night raid I skirted around the light of the group and attempted to attack the only Norseman. It turned out that he was a godi, and quickly spun his wyrd on me to attack my comrade. The first one that I saw had his back to me, and I almost fell sorry as I hacked my axe into his back. He swore, more surprised than anything else, and promptly fell over dead.
I turned in to a surprise attack from someone else; I was rushed by one of the most well known warriors of Culhaven, Gato, who surprised me so much that I slipped over onto my back, instinctively raising my shield to protect myself. Somehow I managed to cross my legs up into the air, rested my shield on them, and with both legs and an arm hide myself from the rain of violence coming down from above. My right arm wasn’t covered enough, and quickly became a battered target.
There were calls out from my comrades – whom I had just attacked – telling Gato that he was attacking his own friend.
“No I’m not,” he said, pausing for the briefest of moments before swinging down at me again. I struggled to unleash my dagger, my only salvation from this onslaught, out from its sheathe – my axe dropped somewhere in the night – and in the final, pyrrhic moment I twist and meekly slash with defiance at his leg with my now one good arm. Gato ripped my shield away with his own, plants his shield into my nardledanghers, and beats me to death.
It was wonderful.
And that was my weekend; mud, wind, rain, and LARP. I hope there’ll be photographs soon.