Otherworld TRPG Game Master-Chapter 257: Outerworlgly TRPG -3

Clink. The beer mugs clashed together, causing the golden liquid to froth and splash like waves.

"This place is different from those dives that sell piss for beer. Even bards often stop by, so if you’re lucky, you can catch a free performance. Let’s drink!"

"...Hmph, not bad...," the ax-wielding warrior Gurmon and the rogue Lust said as they both downed their beers in unison. The chilled beer washed away the remaining fatigue in their throats as it went down, warming their stomachs and spreading the pleasant buzz of alcohol.

It had been about eight hours since they returned from hunting goblins with the Game Master. They had parted ways after completing the quest, and now only the warrior and rogue remained, sharing a drink and unwinding.

The Game Master had wanted to join in the after-party too, but unfortunately, he had been caught by the terrifying fire mage and couldn’t participate.

"There were still so many questions I wanted to ask. Like, what was the scar on Goblin Min's left eye? Who could have taken that cunning bastard’s eye?"

"...Hmph, I think it might be related to the goblin dynasty."

How did this unlikely duo, the boastful warrior and the sneaky rogue, become such close friends?

Their friendship began when the rogue fumbled, and the warrior took an arrow for him with a defensive action. It was a deadly attack that could have torn the character sheet in two.

And when the warrior was framed as a goblin murderer by Goblin Min’s evil plot, the rogue saved him by forging evidence to create an alibi.

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

Even if it was all just in their imagination, it was still a magnificent adventure.

What started as an awkward experience became more engaging as they got deeper into the story, with trivial thoughts fading away, leaving only the clear goal of bringing Goblin Min to justice.

Perhaps this is why people seek out street performances, storytellers, or books. For two people whose only hobbies were sharpening axes or polishing daggers, the cultural impact was even greater.

As they reminisced, the number of empty beer mugs grew, and in their slightly drunken state, they continued to discuss their journey, which had taken place in their imaginations.

"At first, we all gathered at the inn. I was a newbie to Lucerne, didn’t know anything about the Goblin Emperor’s laws."

"...Hmph, looking back, it’s a miracle I didn’t end up in jail. I punched the goblin server right in the face..."

Their chatter continued without end.

The first case, their meeting with the brilliant detective, the detective’s death as he fell from the waterfall cliff orchestrated by the mastermind, and the Miranda rights he left behind.

Helping a merchant who was on the brink of bankruptcy due to a self-harming orc’s insurance scam, and the innocent smile of the girl they received as a reward.

Finally, they faced Goblin Min, who had emerged from the shadows, and his cunning ability to exploit the law to escape punishment!

As the story progressed, the people eating and talking in the tavern gradually quieted down, focusing on the duo’s tales of adventure. So, where exactly is Lucerne, and what is the Goblin Emperor...?

Except for the voices of the two telling their story, the tavern became as quiet as a temple. Everyone perked up their ears, eager to catch every bit of information coming from that table.

This was different from the usual tired stories told by bards.

However... it was frustratingly incomplete.

The way they reminisced lacked structure. They skipped parts, assuming each other knew everything already.

"That last trick was really chilling."

"...Hmph, ‘wisdom tooth,’ you mean."

"Yeah, the wisdom tooth..."

They kept referring to things by their own private jargon, leaving the listeners confused and frustrated. Yet, the story of the detective mercenary team still had something that tickled people’s dopamine receptors.

Eventually, one bard named Hans, who had been quietly listening at a nearby table, couldn’t resist any longer and approached the warrior and rogue.

A bard’s job is to create songs from great stories and spread them. But how many thrilling adventures are there in this world? The bard community constantly suffered from a shortage of material.

But this story! How sweet would the donations be if he could sing this as a song! This was an investment. Hans pulled out his wallet.

"Pardon me, adventurers. I’m just a passing bard, but I would love to buy you some food and beer. In exchange, could you tell me your story from the beginning, in more detail?"

Warrior Gurmon and Rogue Lust exchanged glances and chuckled. A bard interested in their adventure!

"Sit down! We’ll tell you all about it! It all started when three of us gathered at the inn..."

"...Hmph, first, we must explain the nation of Lucerne..."

They began to recount the tale in detail, carefully explaining the three mysteries and the archenemy that the detective mercenary team faced.

But in their storytelling, they made one mistake.

"Hahaha! If I hadn’t blocked that arrow, who knows where it would have landed. If it had hit you down below, you’d have died a eunuch, right?"

"...Hmph, did you forget I cleared your name? And dying a eunuch would be a better fate than being beheaded at the executioner’s block..."

By the time the bard declared unlimited beer supply, both were so tipsy that they forgot to explain this was just a game.

Since it was a TRPG, they casually and cheerfully recounted situations where their lives were on the line. It made sense—after all, it was just a game.

But from the audience’s perspective... they might have dismissed the tale of an adventure in a land ruled by a Goblin Emperor as nonsense.

However, the way these adventurers recalled those hair-raising crises with such ease, as if they were seasoned mercenaries who had seen it all, was convincing.

"Could you explain that law in more detail?"

"Oh, I had it written down somewhere... but I don’t have it with me. Do you?"

"...Hmph, I wrote down all the clues provided by the Master. I’ll show you."

The insane mage’s meticulous attention to detail only added credibility.

Moreover, since the two of them were new arrivals in the city of Elphyris, no one knew anything about their past.

As a result...

"Gentlemen, I’ve heard your story. I understand you’ve returned from adventuring in the New World with your Master? Why didn’t you mention this earlier? We would have recommended you for a Gold Badge promotion..."

"...What...?"

The next day, after nursing their hangovers and lazing around the inn, they sluggishly made their way to the adventurers’ guild, only to be greeted with this.

"They say those two are from the famous detective mercenary team..."

"They say they can tell your age just by looking at you. Do you think that’s true?"

"..."

"...Hmph..."

The warrior and rogue looked at each other.

Without saying a word, they both bolted out the door in search of the Master.

I don’t know where or how this snowball started rolling, but soon, stories about the fictional nation of Lucerne began to circulate, much like the apocryphal tales from the West about the Orient.

"The wicked fang of Goblin Min glinted with the light of intelligence!"

"The great mage Servion the Greatmage cast his spells—!"

And as we walked down the streets, bards were singing various versions of the story in their own ways.

Selvia spoke with a complex expression. Hearing her character’s name mentioned repeatedly made her feel strange—half embarrassed, half proud.

"...Wow, what’s going on? Did Gurmon and Lust, I mean the warrior and the rogue, sell our story?"

"Who knows? It seems like it came from them."

"What do we do? Shouldn’t we be trying to fix this?"

"Why fix it? You can never predict the fickle trends of the human world, so if the southeast wind blows, we should raise our sails..."

This wasn’t a disaster; it was an opportunity. A chance to spread TRPGs far and wide!

What had started as a simple game among us was going viral. If we capitalize on this... perhaps we could plant the seed of TRPG in this world. And then, a global phenomenon might just sweep across the land.

My heart raced. If TRPGs grew and became the national pastime of this fantasy world...?

When neighbors Hans and Jenna meet, instead of playing house, they might dive into a cyberpunk session. In taverns, instead of dice games, love comedy sessions would be in full swing.

When something akin to the Olympics is held, TRPGs might be an official event. Everyone would cheer while watching replays, and there would even be a title like "Pro TRPG Master."

Official academies would train game masters, high-quality scenarios would flood the market, and there would be no shortage of people running sessions for me...

When news of a new rulebook’s release breaks, the funding goals would be reached in no time. I wouldn’t have to wither away waiting for rulebooks to be published...

If that world could come to pass, I would be so happy. I’d be half-dead with happiness!

"...Big brother? You’re getting that look again. Snap out of it. Are you listening to me?"

Now’s the time!

Even though this wasn’t something I intended, the time is now!

This is a divine mission bestowed upon me by the goddess: to spread TRPGs across the world. If the goddess hadn’t given me such a revelation, I would have hacked her to receive one. I feel like I’m being led by destiny.

There’s a way to spread the rules, the gameplay, the basic agreements and guidelines—all of it.

Through rulebooks. I’ll flood the market with rulebooks.

There’s no copyright law in this world, so I could just copy all the good rulebooks from Earth, but that would lack dignity. And I’m not lacking in ideas, so I’ll create my own.

Writing a rulebook won’t take long. I’ve created over a hundred custom rulesets over the past ten years as a hobby. I have more than enough material.

And then I’ll print them...

Printing... requires money.

I eyed the reward we received for clearing out the goblin village. It was originally meant to buy a carriage and horses, but that money could cover the printing costs.

"...Big brother? Why are you looking at the money pouch like that?"

"...It’s not a waste. It’s an investment."

Yes, an investment. Once the rulebooks are printed and sell like hotcakes, I could buy ten carriages.

I’m not doing this out of selfishness. I’m making a sound investment. That’s all there is to it.

Updat𝓮d from freewēbnoveℓ.com.

This might even be the starting point for changing history. Isn’t a money pouch a small price to pay for leaving a mark on history...?

I began to move stealthily. And then...

"Hey."

"..."

"Hey, hey...! Where are you going with that money pouch?!"

"It’s a worthwhile investment, Selvia!"

I grabbed the money pouch and ran.

Thud thud thud!

I could see Selvia hot on my heels, holding her staff like a club. But I wouldn’t be swayed by such external pressure. For glory!

I dashed down from the inn’s second floor, through the lobby, and out the front door...

"Master, help me out!"

"...Hmph, seems like trouble has found us..."

Our two beloved players were with me.

"There he is! Are you the ‘Master’?!"

"Tell us more about Lucerne!"

"Allow us bards to use your stories!"

A group of bards, blinded by the prospect of lucrative material, had surrounded the inn, laying siege in hopes of getting more stories.

I was momentarily taken aback, but I quickly regained my composure.

I immediately shifted into rulebook-selling mode.

"Everyone! All you bards of the world, if you buy this soon-to-be-released rulebook, anyone can explore Lucerne and experience thrilling adventures!"

"Forget that, just tell us the story!"

"With just a roll of the dice, you can embark on a fantastic adventure right before your eyes..."

"Are you saying we have to buy the book to hear the story? Can’t we just pay you?"

As I tried to push the rulebook, and the bards insisted on getting more story material, a tense standoff developed.

"Step aside. He is an acquaintance of mine. Please allow me to speak with him first."

A figure emerged from the crowd, pushing through.

A rabbit-eared woman with an impressive rabbit mask, wearing a bunny girl outfit that looked even more provocative due to her lack of curves, yet she radiated the unmistakable aura of a powerful warrior.

It was the Rabbit Princess, a renowned singer from Trumpethol.

It seemed that the bards respected her, as the crowd around the inn began to slowly back away at her words.

Selvia, who had finally caught up, whispered to me as she noticed the rather shocking outfit the Rabbit Princess wore in broad daylight.

"...A slut? Is she someone you know?"

The Rabbit Princess flinched. Her sharp ears must have caught Selvia’s words. Her face was probably turning bright red under that mask.

I answered Selvia.

"...Yeah, I know her."

She was actually Sissel Yurensto, the former strongest knight of the Eastern Front.

It seemed she was enjoying life after being exiled...