Otherworld TRPG Game Master

257 – Otherworld TRPG -3

Clink. The beer mugs clashed together, and the golden beer swayed like waves.

“This place is different from those ruffians selling piss-like beer. Even bards often visit, and if you’re lucky, you might catch a free performance. Let’s drink!”

“⋯⋯Hmph, not bad⋯⋯.”

The axe-wielding warrior Gurmon and the rogue Rust downed their beers without a second thought. As the chilled beer washed away the fatigue lingering in their throats, warmth spread through their stomachs, and the effects of the alcohol began to take hold.

It had been eight hours since they had gone goblin hunting with the game master. They had completed their quest and parted ways, leaving only the warrior and the rogue to unwind over a drink.

The master seemed eager to join the after-party, but unfortunately, he couldn’t participate as he had been captured by the fearsome fire mage.

“I still had so many questions. What was the scar left on the left eye of the goblin folk? Who could possibly have taken that cunning creature’s eye?”

“…Hmph, I think it might be related to the Goblin Dynasty.”

How did this mismatched duo of a boastful warrior and a sly rogue become so close?

Their friendship began the moment the rogue fumbled, and the warrior took the arrow meant for him with a protective action. It was a dangerously reckless move that could have torn their character sheets.

Also, when the warrior was falsely accused of being a goblin murderer due to the goblin folk’s wicked schemes, the rogue forged evidence to create an alibi and saved him.

Having helped each other through life and death, how could they not be friends?

Though it may have all taken place in their imagination, it was a splendid journey.

At first, it felt awkward, but as they immersed themselves deeper into the story, trivial thoughts faded away, leaving only the clear goal of capturing the goblin folk for justice.

Is this why people seek out street performances, storytellers’ tales, and books to read? For two individuals whose only hobbies were sharpening axes and honing daggers, the cultural shock was even greater.

As they reminisced, empty beer mugs began to pile up, and they spoke of their journey, which had unfolded in their imaginations, in a rather tipsy state.

“We first gathered at the inn. I was a newbie visiting Rukelun for the first time, and I had no idea about the goblin emperor’s decrees.”

“…Hmph, looking back, it’s a miracle we didn’t end up in the dungeon. I threw a punch at the serving goblin right away…”

Their chatter flowed endlessly.

The initial incident and the meeting with the great detective, the detective who met his demise on a waterfall cliff due to the machinations of a shadowy figure, and the Miranda rights he left behind.

Helping a merchant on the brink of bankruptcy due to the self-harm threats of a stuttering orc, and receiving the bright smile of a girl as compensation.

Finally, the goblin folk emerging from the veil of darkness, and their cunning ability to slip through the law!

As the story progressed, the patrons in the tavern began to quiet down one by one, focusing on their adventure tales. So, where exactly is Rukelun, and who is this goblin emperor…?

The tavern became as quiet as a temple, except for the voices of the two. Everyone perked up their ears, busy absorbing the information flowing from that table.

It was different from the mundane tales told by the bards.

But… it was tantalizing.

Stories of reminiscing lack coherence. They spun tales on the premise that they both knew everything, skipping over certain parts.

“That last trick was truly spine-chilling.”

“…Hmph, you mean the ‘Wisdom Tooth.'”

“Yes, the wisdom tooth…”

Using their own unique terms, they glossed over it, leaving the listeners frustrated and sorrowful. Yet, the journey of the detective mercenary had a way of stimulating people’s dopamine.

And at the next table over, the bard Hans, who had been quietly listening to the story, could no longer contain himself and approached the warrior and rogue.

Bards are professionals who spread wonderful stories through song. But how many heart-pounding adventure tales exist in this world? The bard industry was suffering from a chronic shortage of material.

But that story! If he could sing that, how sweet would the sponsorship be! This was an investment. Hans opened his wallet.

“Excuse me, adventurers. I’m just a passing bard. I would like to buy you some snacks and beer. But in return, could you tell me your story in detail from the beginning?”

The warrior Gurmon and the thief Rust faced each other, laughing at a proposal they had never heard before. Can you believe even the bard is interested in our adventures?

“Sit down. I’ll tell you as much as you want! Three of us gathered at the inn and…”

“…Hmph, first we must speak of the nation called Lukelrn…”

They began their tale, tipsy and at ease, carefully detailing the three mysteries faced by the detective mercenary group and their arch-nemesis.

However, there was one mistake made while recounting the story.

“Ahahaha! That arrow, if I hadn’t blocked it, who knows where it would have struck? If it had hit my lower body, I would have died a eunuch, wouldn’t I? Huh?”

“…Hmph, have you forgotten that I cleared your name? And dying a eunuch would be a better fate than standing on the executioner’s block to have my head chopped off…”

At the moment the bard declared unlimited beer supply, the two were quite drunk, forgetting to explain that this was all just a game.

Since it was merely a TRPG, they spoke nonchalantly and joyfully about life-and-death situations. It was only natural. After all, it was a game.

But from the audience’s perspective… the adventures that took place in Lukelrn, ruled by the Goblin Emperor, seemed like a far-fetched tale.

Recalling and narrating perilous situations that would make anyone dizzy, without a hint of tension, made them appear as seasoned veterans who had been through countless trials.

“Could you tell me more about that decree?”

“Ah, I had written it down somewhere… but I don’t have it. Do you?”

“…Hmph, I’ve noted all the clues provided by the Master. Show me.”

And the details that the mad wizard had obsessively gathered added credibility to their tale.

Moreover, the two had recently entered the city of Elpiris after living in a foreign land, with no one knowing their past exploits!

As a result.

“I’ve heard your story. You returned from adventuring in the New World with someone called the Master, right? You should have mentioned it earlier. I could have recommended you for a gold badge upgrade…”

“……?”

After a day spent nursing a hangover, and then sleeping in the inn again, they staggered toward the adventurer’s guild, only to be met with this kind of talk from the guild receptionist.

“They say those two are the famous detective mercenaries…”

“I hear they can even deduce your age just by looking at you? Is that really true?”

“…….”

“…Hmph…”

The warrior and the thief faced each other.

Without a word, they both dashed out to find the Master.

—-

I have no idea where or how this snowball started rolling, but stories about the fictional nation of Lukelrn began to circulate frequently, much like the Eastern travelogues that drifted through the West.

“The wicked fangs of the Goblin folk gleamed with the light of intellect!”

“The great mage Servion is casting spells—!”

And as I walked through the streets, the bards were singing, each distorting the story in their own variations.

Selvia spoke with a complex expression. It seemed she felt strange hearing her character’s name mentioned repeatedly. Was it half embarrassment, half pride?

“…Wow, what is happening here? Have Gurmon and Rust, I mean the warrior and the thief, started selling their story?”

“Well, it seems to be coming from that direction.”

“What are we going to do? Aren’t we supposed to handle this?”

“Why handle it? The fickle trends of the human world are unpredictable; if the southeast wind blows, we should rather set our sails…!”

This is not an accident; it’s an opportunity. An opportunity to spread TRPG far and wide!

What started as a casual discussion among us has gone viral; if we push it now… perhaps the seeds of TRPG might sprout in this joyless world. And a global pandemic of it could sweep in.

My heart races. If TRPG, which has grown so robustly, becomes the national hobby of the fantasy world…?

When Hans from next door and Jenna from behind meet, instead of playing house, they might dive into cyberpunk, and in the tavern, instead of betting on dice, love comedy sessions could unfold.

When something akin to the Olympics is held, TRPG could be an official event. Everyone would cheer while watching replays, and the title of professional TRPG master would emerge.

A formal academy for training game masters would arise, and a flood of entertaining, high-quality scenarios would pour out, with masters to run sessions overflowing, not just me…!

If news of a new rulebook were to spread, and funding could be achieved in an instant, if I didn’t have to wither away waiting for the official release…

If only that could happen, I would truly be happy. I would be so immersed in happiness that I might just die from it!

“…Oppa? Your eyes are rolling again. Get a grip. Can you hear me?”

Now is the time!

It’s not exactly what I intended, but now is the time!

This is a holy mission bestowed upon me by the goddess. A revelation to spread TRPG in this world. If such a revelation didn’t exist, I would hack the goddess to make it happen. I feel destiny right now.

There is a way to wisely disseminate the rules of the game, the methods of play, the basic promises and disciplines.

It’s the rulebook. I will spread the rulebook far and wide.

In this world, there are no copyright laws, so I could simply copy the good rulebooks from Earth, but that method lacks respect. I’m not short on ideas, so I will create my own.

It won’t take long to write the rulebook. I have over a hundred self-made rules created over ten years just for fun. There’s an abundance.

And then to print this…

Printing… requires money.

I can’t help but think of the reward money we received for clearing out the goblin village. Originally, it was meant to buy a cart and horses, but with that, I could cover the printing costs.

“…Oppa? Why are you looking at the money pouch like that?”

“…It’s not waste; it’s an investment.”

Yes, an investment. The moment the rulebook is printed and sells like hotcakes, I could buy ten carts.

I’m not saying I want to use it for selfish desires. I’m talking about making a healthy investment. Is that all?

This could perhaps be the starting point to change history. Isn’t a single money pouch a small price to pay for leaving a mark on history…?

I moved stealthily. And.

“Hey.”

“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”

“Hey, hey⋯⋯! Where are you going with that money pouch!!”

“This is a valuable investment, Selbier!”

I ran with the money pouch in hand.

Crash bang!

I could see Selbier behind me, gripping his cane like a bat and chasing closely. But I would not yield to such external pressure. For glory!

Descending from the second floor of the inn, I passed through the lobby on the first floor and headed out the front door⋯⋯.

From noble mtl dot com

“Master, help me!”

“⋯⋯Hmph, this is a bothersome situation⋯⋯.”

With our precious players.

“You’ve come out! Are you the ‘Master’?!”

“Please tell us more about Rukelrn!”

“Grant us material for our bards!”

The bards, their eyes gleaming at the prospect of a hefty income, had surrounded the inn, eager to extract stories.

I was momentarily flustered, but my judgment was swift.

I naturally slipped into my rulebook-selling boy mode.

“Everyone! Fellow bards of the martial world, if you purchase this soon-to-be-released rulebook! Anyone can explore Rukelrn and enjoy thrilling adventures!”

“That’s enough, just tell us the story!”

“By rolling the dice, fantastic adventures will unfold before your eyes⋯⋯!”

“Does that mean if we buy the book, you’ll share the story?! Can’t we just give you money instead?”

As I wanted to promote the rulebook, and the bards were adamant about getting some material for their songs, a tense standoff was brewing.

“Step aside. He is my acquaintance. Please allow me to speak with him first.”

A figure emerged, parting the crowd.

With perky rabbit ears and a striking rabbit mask. The bunny girl outfit, lacking in volume, looked almost dizzying. And the undeniable aura of a strong presence.

The singer who had made a name for herself at the Trumpet Hall, the Rabbit Princess.

It seemed she was held in some regard by the bards. The crowd surrounding the inn began to step back slightly at her words.

Selbier, who had hurriedly caught up, whispered to me as he gazed at the Rabbit Princess, who had appeared on the bustling street in such an outrageous outfit.

“⋯⋯Is she a noble? Do you know her?”

The body of the Rabbit Princess trembled slightly. It seemed her keen hearing had caught Selbier’s words. Her face must have turned quite red behind the mask.

I responded.

“…Uh, it’s someone I know.”

Her true identity was none other than the former strongest knight of the Eastern Front, Siscel Yurensto.

Having been “exiled,” it seemed she was enjoying her life…