You force yourself through the massive amounts of greenery growing at the rivers edge and to the side of the bridge. There two men pause to look you over but it's fine, you're doing the same to them They're both tall, blond, and muscular. Swedish? you wonder as the men standing before you would be the male equivalent of swimsuit models. They're dressed in clothing not too far from your current appearal, layered with chain and plate mail. Real swords hang at their sides, decoration you suppose. And crossbows. But what really draws your attention are their ears; wonderfully well pointed elf ears. You somehow arrived at the larp camp.

I must have dozed off in the car, you think. And the GM is messing with me. My NPC is the drunk under the bridge.

"Good day, sirs," you call out in elvish; your pointless hobbies have to come into use somewhere, right. The two furl their brow and draw their swords in response to which you hold up your hands. Shouldn't they have padded ones? you think as you take a step back. "Who are you?" they demand in return. Damn, their accent is good, and you haven't even been given any character info yet.

"Casey," you answer.

"And where do you hail from, Casey?" There's a suspicious tone to his voice, good acting.

"Uh.." you hesitate.. No one has told you a thing, given you a map, a goal, or anything. You're unarmed and unprepared. It's the strangest LARP you've ever attended. Before you the guards are gettin anxious. "The distant land of Lafayette," you hazard. One elven guard looks suspiciously at the other and they begin passing whispers. If you wanted you could probably take one down and disarm him. Maybe even escape the other.

Yeah!

Nah, I'm not a violent NPC (or Pc)