Big plays are a great part of larp. Bet your bottom dollar, go all in and put that neck on the line. When you do this – and you should, it is awesome – you have to prepare yourself for the worst. Hope for the best – sure – but accept defeat with good graces.

So recently, I was Queen of the Elves for 2 weeks. Well – sort of. I managed to wear something that made a 7ft tree ent call me Queen and that was good enough for most people. In the middle of a tomb where a flesh crafter lay was a loot pile. This was said to contain a crown which was said to control ents. We’d lost a lot of party members and they go to the monster side when they die so our band was outnumbered, out gunned and out classed. This encounter could well end us.

This lead to me and my mischievous student, Tomec, going for broke. I thought I was the world’s worst stealth bot (having played a lot of loud heavies it is not my forte) but I managed to get behind the bad guys while everyone was talking and scrounge me a crown. When I finished using my newly appointed ent bodyguard as a shield to sneak back to the players with I told it to destroy the cavern and bring it down on top of the bad guys. We just about made it out alive – the flesh crafter wasn’t so lucky.

Failing there would have bought the party a few seconds on the distraction clock but probably would have been my death. Somehow my little jaunt went good. I still can’t believe I wasn’t spotted.

Something something quitting while you’re ahead? Not for Tomec. So some deals later she went to the elves that she had psuedo rule over and said they could appoint her Queen and she’d strike a treaty with a guild mate about to conquer another continent for eternal peace. If not she was walking and leaving the crown with them. I’m no elf but call me ambassador extraordinaire. For my hasty little student dreaming big it seemed like the perfect move. The fact is the Lammie on the Crown was sick and wrong and I knew I had limited chance of success. The thing was the pay off and roleplay was tempting enough for me to swing for it.

Now I am a lammie down and I am more or less the same scrub I started off this tale as. Do I resent the ref that wrote me out of a lammie? Hell no! I invited that on my gamble. The world lives and breathes and that descendant had more right to that scared treasure than I. Would I do it again? Of course. Why? For simply one reason: I tell a much better story than the guy who never dared.

Go big or Go home.

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