|LARP dryads do not look like this. Ever.|
So I spent the weekend running round in the woods, smiting monsters, trying to rescue distressed maidens out of trees (boy did THAT go badly), and managing on 3 hours sleep a night. I ache now, though my biceps are like rocks and I appear to have lost 5 lbs - probably all in sweat.
I do not ache as badly as Mr Ashbless, however, who upon seeing me bearing down upon him brandishing my staff, decided to run away instead of standing and dying like a snake-man should (Mr Ashbless' monsters always try to survive ... the wimps.) Haring off into the PITCH DARKNESS, he ran off the edge of the path and face-planted in a ditch full of brambles.
There was blood. He can't walk today :-(
And the moral of the story is - if your wife wants to smack your ass, it's safer to just let her.
But if you prefer to see my more decorous weekends, do pop over to Jennifer Denys' blog, where she spills some of the beans on what erotica writers chat about over tea and cookies :-)