The New Game Master

Synopsis: Ralph Bronson walked into the gaming store and checked out the board for gamers who were looking for more players. He just moved to this area of Colorado Springs. He was looking for like-minded gamers. He was told of a beautiful woman in one of the gaming rooms who is interviewing people for her gaming group. What happens next was truly unexpected.

Inspired by so many things but not endorsed by any of them. © EmotionalStorm November 2019. This story cannot be transferred to any other site besides Literotica.com without the prior authorizations in writing from the author and EmotionalStorm must be credited for this work.

Disclaimer: In this world 'The Raven', Kerria and Lyria are the only 'players' in the story. All other 'characters are personas of Lyria as the Game Master.' When she is having incestuous sex it is with two or more of her own persona's. It does go into incest but this is more akin to virtualization of segments of her mind. After that, she is playing with herself as all of the personas are an aspect of her.

Prologue

How the fuck did I end up here. One minute I was talking with some beautiful woman about joining her gaming group. Wizard, dragons, swords, and epic battles against overwhelming odds. The next thing I woke up to the sound of dripping. The smack of water droplets smacked into my forehead with the force of a hammer. The smell of mold, rust, and the iron taste of blood in my mouth.

I attempted to look around through the one eye that would open. I wondered what fucking truck I walked in front of to be this fucked up. I never knew your hair could hurt. I was not talking someone 'pulled it' hurt. I meant that the breeze caused by moving my head felt as if someone played jump rope with your tendons kind of hurt. From my fucking hair!

A single beam of light reflected off a shiny surface. I slowly crawled my way to the shiny surface hoping it was something to drink, a mirror, or at least the answer of where the fuck I was and what happened. What felt like an hour had passed. I made it to the shiny surface. WHAT...THE...FUCK. The surface was a note that read as follows.

"To my latest Boy Toy,

You sound like my kind of gamer. We knock some of the geekiness out of you and you could be my kind of lover. First thing, lose the name. Ralph Bronson sounds like you puked up an exotic burger. Second, you will start to feel better once you have chosen your race, class(es), skills, and spells if applicable.

Do not worry about rolling stats or figuring out starting gear or any of that. That will all be decided by what you do and what you write. The better the starting story the better your life will start out. Remember, Anything you write cannot be unchanged. Also as you hated the 'real world' you need not worry as now you are in my world.

There is no going back. Not that you had a life worth going back too. Don't feel bad. Here you can get laid. If you're lucky you will get laid a lot. I got a lot of girlfriends and even a few boyfriends who might get jealous. I do not recommend the chaste paladin.

You will end up frustrated with callused hands or become a fighter because you fucked the gorgeous barmaid in the ass right in front of everyone in the bar. It is a recipe for disaster which is what happened to the last guy. His head still hangs outside the town on a pike. Yes, this is fantasy, it is 'not real.'

While getting roughly handled by the ex-paladin had it's fun moments watching him lose his head while cursing at me was not one of them. You see in this world you get one life, and every decision has a consequence. When you die you die. This is your only warning on the matter. Now you might be thinking, 'I will just sit here until she lets me go.' That will not happen.

You will starve to death. You signed up to play in my world. I am fair, I can be loving and adventurous. You just have to figure out how to bring those things out of me. Now for a couple of other rules. Do not write yourself any companions. A horse sure. I love killing those.

No familiars, you will find all of these things along the way. You put any gear into your backstory you better make sure you explain how you got it and WHY you still have it. You make yourself something too exotic you can expect your head upon a pike faster than that paladin. Go with what you know, you will live longer.

No need to worry about a calendar or a starting age. The more you own the faster you will die. At least at your level. I won't fuck a minor or someone who is ready to fall in the grave. You will be an adult but just barely. A virgin, but hey you already are or you would not be here. In case you have not realized it, you cannot choose to play different sex, only your own by birth.

Sorry, nothing puts me off more than a guy trying to play a woman who acts like a guy. Straight to the headsman if you do. Also, do not write in a foot long cock with the girth of a beer bottle. You will go straight to the headsman to have it stretched and shortened. Circumcision can be fatal in this manner.

Occasionally you will find a note like this letting you know how I think you are doing. Remember you signed on the dotted line. Your ass is mine. As is the rest of you. I promised you a great playing experience IF you are a great player. I live for the game. You live as long as you play it well. You will find a quill. You can find the ink in your mouth; your blood.

Yours always,

Lillian your Tri-sexual Game Master."

He read the note twice and thought, "I am so fucked."

He remembered signing something but he did not read it all. He didn't even get a copy of it. What in the hell did he do? He finally decided to apply a gamer's logic to the problem. The way through the problem was to play the game. He grabbed the quill and thought before writing.

The first box was 'race.' He liked elves but being a haughty typical elf for the rest of his life did not sound appealing. Also, who would want to live for centuries? He knew humans but he might want to live longer than a human.

Race: Half-elven Moon-elf

Next up are classes. He knew nothing of heavy armor but he had done archery and some larping with swords. Magic always fascinated him so he chose to add a little spice to this life. It is a classic combination but it is something I know from gaming at least.

Class(s): Fighter/Mage (Working toward Arcane Archer)

He figured numbers are pointless I am just letting her know which skills I have. I cannot assign numbers without knowing stats so I just list those skills I figure I would be good at based upon practical experience for the character.

Skills: Balance, Bluff, Climb, Jump, Knowledge Arcane and nature, spellcraft, Languages: Common and elven (literate with both reading and writing), Ride, spot, listen, use rope, hide, listen, intimidate, weapon focus longsword and longbow. Point Blank shot, precise shot, and quick draw. Proficient with all martial weapons. Crafting bows and swords.

Backstory: Mother was a human mage in hiding. Father was an elven fighter/mage (Blade Singer). He was believed to have died in a conflict with the local baron when I was but ten years of age. In fact, he did die but he made it home first with very specific instructions. His sword and armor were to be wrapped and buried under his body for me to retrieve when I became of age.

He was buried in an unmarked grave near our home where we grew flowers over the grave. He worked and practiced in the village while hunting for food. He was viewed with indifference because of his mixed heritage but his skill with a sword and bow only improved because of those traits. His training in magic and literacy had to be kept secret.

The local Baron feared magic that was not contained in an object. Like my father's sword. The distinctive blade that was made to look like black crystal but was actually mithril; enchanted though I did not yet know the commands to activate the flaming blade. My father's armor was not enchanted but was a mithril chain-mail. Easy to hide under clothes or leather armor when the time comes.

The blade was another matter. It would have to be hidden well; on the back under a cloak set to draw from underneath. A sword on my belt for common work. While that one is was not a masterwork I did help to make the blade. My bow, on the other hand, had the work of a master upon it. I was fourteen and out hunting with a group. A wild boar had been causing problems and had maimed three and killed two.

We went out to put it down. The boar charged the son of the master bow maker. I was close enough and lucky enough to get a good shot in through the side and into the heart. It came to a sliding halt after knocking his son to the ground and he was partially pinned. The boar must have been close to 700 pounds.

I freed the son before more help arrived as we started calling for the others immediately. Lifting the beasts head up and off of the pinned archer took every ounce of strength he had. The adrenaline coursed through my body. The master bow maker helped me with my project in creating my own bow and arrows. The final product was a masterwork bow made from ironwood.

My mother insisted I locate a safe hiding spot in case of trouble ever arrived. She seemed to suspect more than she let on. Teaching reading and writing were considered to be forbidden by this local baron. As she taught many to make ends meet it came as no surprise when the day came and they tried to take her into custody. She unloaded every spell she had in memory and killed a dozen of his men before they managed to kill her.

For that blatant act of defiance, the village was put to the torch and the villagers were run off or killed. I was hidden at the time as instructed. I had found an old dead tree stump that was 30 feet high but had been eaten out by insects over the years. I had an emergency pack, dry rations, and my personal spellbook.

Extra clothes, a couple of daggers, essentially a scout pack with a few extra items in it. Two days later after the fires were contained his remaining soldiers returned home. I left my hiding hole which I had stayed in except to relieve my bodily waste. I was low on provisions and water by the time they left. I went at night and dug under the flower bed until I found the remains of my father.

I went for his gear and the skeletal hand of my father grabbed mine. These words echoed in my ears. "Do not seek vengeance for vengeance's sake. Seek justice against those who unjustly oppress. Only when the time is right and your skills are up to the task. Learn, live, and love." The hand released mine and I pulled the bundle from under his corpse.

I covered his body and offered a prayer to those who died. I took everything to the nearest stream and unwrapped the bundle of gear. I stripped and cleaned up and filled up my water-skins. I caught a couple of small fish which I cleaned. I ate them raw. I did not want to start a fire. I put on his armor, then clothes, and then my leather armor. I put his sword on my back and set it for a downward draw.

I put my pack over it and my cloak over it all. I had my sword belt with one dagger on the other side. A second dagger sheathed in my boot. As I had yet to describe my appearance I have solid raven black hair that I wear in a manner that covers the partial points upon my ears. The hair was long going halfway down my back.

The violet irises of my eyes were a dead giveaway to my elven heritage. I am also left-handed, so I am always in my right mind. I can fight with either as finding a trainer to work with you as a left-handed fighter was difficult. I am just better left-handed. As to genitalia, I have a seven-inch long cock. It is not the size of a beer bottle but could be aptly described as the neck portion of a beer bottle. I have little in the way of body or pubic hair due to my elven heritage.

Else my body is built like a man who has done a lot of solid work as he grew up. As I did not want to be known by my given name I chose another. The name I chose to go by is Sarrion "The Raven" Black. I chose "The Raven" for several reasons. I always dyed the feather on my arrow fletchings black even if they are not already.

Second, my arrow shaft and bow were black ash in color from hours of apply ash from campfires on the wood. Lastly, I always seemed to be watching death. My spellbook was sparse. It contains all cantrips, magic missile, shield, and identify. I had a second level in my book which was web though I am unable to cast it as of yet.

While my leather armor was the typical brown my cloak and clothing were all black down to my boots. I wore black archery gloves. They covered the palms and half of the fingers. Thus they left the fingertips exposed to allow me to feel the draw of the string across my calloused fingers. I carried my masterwork bow and had forty arrows in the 2 quivers on my back.

One of those arrows was nocked and ready. I made my way through the woods and out of the baron's territory toward the nearest city. I had 22 gold pieces and 41 silver pieces from my father's bundle and what I scavenged from other homes that were abandoned. I divided the money to try and keep it all from being stolen. I kept the pouch tucked inside my pants.

While I had seen larger game, I stuck to rabbits and the like in order to supplement my dwindling supplies. I switched out spells and identify the sword before putting my leather on. The sword was crafted for killing trolls. Sounded like the baron had a right to fear it as he acted like a fucking troll. The swords flame activated off of thought.

The thought was, "Fire follows its own path." Elven runes ran the length of the blade were visible in the light of the fire it puts off. I was surprised to see the flames are a dark purple to blue. Again just another distinctive feature that shouted, "Hey I know who use to own that sword!" Another reason I kept it hidden unless those who see it will be dead shortly.

I used seven arrows along the way but recover four of them. I arrived at a small inn outside some city I had never been to before. I was looking forward to a warm bath, meal, and maybe a warm beautiful lady to keep me entertained for at least the night. The next task had to be to find work and maybe some trustworthy allies. I arrived and found an empty table in a corner of the inn.

I order a mead and the special which was a roasted chicken with vegetables. I also order some fresh bread, butter, and some fruit as I was really fucking hungry. I requested and got a private room for the night. I set the quill down as I figured I was finished.

Let the Game Begin

He found that he was no longer in the dank cell and felt better. He sat at a table in the corner and the evening crowd gathered. It must have been popular as the place was comfortably full. Not standing room only but it had a crowd. The waitress had brought him his food and drink. Next, to the plate, he found a small piece of parchment. He guessed it was time to find out what the 'tri-sexual' game master thought of his background. The note read as follows:

"To 'The Raven',

First off I give you your backstory an 'A-'. You gave me several hooks to work with which I do enjoy. Your name I like. Misleading enough to make people think you had a human father and an elven mother instead of the other way around. Going into an almost all human society it does not stick out as badly so I give you points for that.

Let me touch on my favorite subject for a moment. Cock. You did good, I definitely like the equipment you are packing and fairly hairless body just adds to your boyish charm. Your class. We never got to the point of discussing one rule system vs another. Which is great because I like my own rules.

You could have called yourself a ranger, fighter, fighter/mage or arcane archer. The fact is your a bow based warrior who can channel magic through your bow. I am cutting back on your crafting to just bows. I could not see a Baron torching, killing and/or running off a decent weapon-smith. You have the look of a ranger; which is kinda hot.

Your nice looking bow with average looking sword reflects that. You have three special items, your bow, father's sword, and his non-magical mithril chain. Not as overboard as some others but you did a good job in listening. You explained why you still had them. I love the command phrase for the sword. Very philosophical. Your money is a bit high for starting but your backstory was worth it and you covered the how.

Remember to stay in character. Nothing of your past life outside this world. Some dumb bitch walked into a bar and wanted to know, 'Where the tampon machine was. If this place is so great why did they not a jukebox or even a television.' Needless to say, she spent several days in a cell while clerics attempted to heal her. The bad news is she refused to cooperate.

The headsman sorted the problem child out. Separating those stray thoughts from her beautiful body. I never got a chance to hold that one against me. Sorry, not into necrophilia. Oh well. Anyway, you are off to a great start and you just might find a warm body in your bed if you play your cards right.

Remember I control the world. Though there is more than one of you who are not from this world. Magic is prevalent here so you will enjoy yourself. Both in terms of gear and the nasty caster."

Your Gorgeous Goddess

Lillian

He set the note down and watched it slowly turn to dust and blow away. He finished his meal. He watched the waitress as she bounced from table to table slapping away the occasional roaming hand. She was very cute and young. The thing he did notice was his view being obstructed by a giant of a man with a very large sword.

The man looked down at Raven, "Your tab was paid already by my patron who wants to meet you." raven nodded to him and grabbed his bow. The rest of his gear still in place. He followed the walking wall across the room to another corner table. There sat a woman with a striking resemblance to his Game Master. He had to fight the urge to say anything out of character.

he figured this was some kind of test. She sat next to two other women and if he was not mistaken the four guys he just passed at the table behind him worked for her. She looked him up and down, "You are new here. Your reputation precedes you. I spoke with a vendor up the street who said you came from the same village he fled.

He was selling some very nice bow and arrow supplies. He and his son who looked injured. Walked with a limp. Guy said it came from a big boar that would have killed his boy if you had not put a great shot into it."

Raven looked at her, "I have done a lot of hunting. I am more comfortable in the wilds than in the city. One of the reasons I stopped here for the night.

I figure I may have to brave the city in the morning to try and find work. The sooner I am away from the city the better."

She smiled. "I own a shipping company. I have a caravan leaving in the morning heading west. I believe that is away from where you just came. Regardless I could always use another guard for the trip. Do you own a horse?"

He smiled, "I know how to ride but the Baron saw to it that most of the horses in town died first or were captured. Those who got away were either fast, lucky or both. That is not to say the village had a lot of horses. They were called in to pull in the game from hunting mostly. The occasional friendly race. Usually accompanied by some testing of shooting on the run."