Nothing beats a stressful week like beating your friends with padded weaponry so you ping Sacey to take her time so yoy can gather your stuff. There's not a lot you need for one overnight, especially as you'll be playing as an NPC, so you grab your old back pack and begin throwing things in. Basic toiletries; soap, deoderant, toothbrush and paste, a hair brush and some elastics to bring the wild locks under control. There's not point in going over board, you won't have access to a shower this weekend; it's more authentic they say. A clean shirt, socks, an underwear complere your packing. Now you have to decided what to wear.

Stacey pings your phone again with text warnin you she's on her way. You have ten miuntes, twelve is the lights are in your favor. Tyere's no time for pointed ears or spirit gum so you'll have to go as a basic human. A glance at your weather app says the weekend is going to be warm so you don't want to be wealthy either, layers are ot your firneds. The tie on pants John got a few summers ago at the Renn Faire seem like an ideal choice. You throw on an oversized, white tunic and the yards of fabric billow around your body. A leather belt controls the volume around your waist and a pair of bracers keeps it from impeeding your dextorous arms. A vest is added for color. With you knee high boots you look like some kind of Arabian pirate but it will do. A honk outside lets you know that Stacey has arrived. Grabbing your backpack you skip down the stairs an out the front door.

In an hour I'll be in a cell phone dead zone, from the oppresive coffee man's reach, you think but the wonderful though is cut short as your foot steps on the strap from your bag. Your stride is thrown off an you begin hurtling towrds the asphalt in front of Stacey's car. You close your eyes and brace for the impact on the rough street. Its jarring, as expected, and the wind is knocked out of you. Your hand lands in something damp and slimey. Wondering if you were really that close to the gutter you move it but the new spot is just as soft. It feels soft and damp, like silt. Opening your eyes you find your not sprawled in the middle of the street as you expected.

A slow moving river runs a short distance from you lie surrounded by abundant plant life that requires more than just river water to stay so green. Over you is a bridge made of stone and large clumps of green moss hang down from its supports. The air thick with moisture and the added heat makes it oppressing, even in the shade.

You right yourself an rest on your heels. You're not in Colorado anymore, that's for sure. Unless you somehow shrunk and landed under the bridge in bird world at the Denver Zoo; it's the only place you've encountered such humidity. You need to figure out where you are but how? Leaving the shade of the bridge would be a good start. You stand, slighlty hunched over so as npt to bump you head, but pause when you hear voices. It sounds like two men walking over head, the bridge so sturdly made that there feet make no noise on the bridge. They are talking to each other but the language they speak is unlike anything you've heard before. It's spoken in hushed and urgent tones. Ia sounds like they may be in a hurry. Do you stay put a minute more or go up?

I'm not a threatening looking individual so I'll ask for assitance, or maybe clarification as the where I am.



I'll stay down here until they pass. Maybe an English speaker will come along.