The Game Master Pt 01

He thought that finding the cure to the disease that took his father would be the hard part...

Colwyn Smalley never questioned the role he was meant to play. The labels which would define him were assigned before he left primary school: genius; aloof; innovator; driven. After his father was handed a fatal diagnosis, Colwyn swore to find a cure... to save his hero.

He failed.

Haunted by his father's death, he dedicated the next quarter century to fulfilling his vow with barely a passing thought to his own happiness outside of his love for the role-playing games which gave birth to his nickname.

In place of the expected acclaim and jubilation upon revealing that he has miraculously succeeded, he encounters suspicion and corporate politics more interested in riches than saving lives. When he refuses to let his work be hoarded by the wealthy, his employers decide there's only one way to silence him. Framed, imprisoned, and left for dead, Colwyn faces a brutal reality--until an enigmatic being offers him a new path.

Gifted with the unnatural power to force those bent on doing him harm to his will, Colwyn emerges from the ashes of his former life as something far more dangerous than the unassuming, forgettable nerd his foes perceive. Just as Colwyn begins to experiment with his newfound powers, his world is again upended when the woman of his dreams appears at his doorstep. Now Colwyn must choose between getting revenge against those who wronged him, finding a way to bring his long-sought discovery to the world, or, for the first time in his life, pursuing his own happiness - a task which is soon complicated when he discovers that his biggest challenge may be in restraining his new powers, rather than unleashing them.

Packed with sensuality, sharp wit, and a provocative look at power and morality, The Game Master is a contemporary erotic fantasy about a man who sacrificed everything for his quest--only to discover that love was the prize he never knew he was searching for.

Author's note:

I've split this novel into three sections for publication here.

Make no mistake, this novel delves into some weighty subject matter. Trigger warnings for on-page violence and depression.

All sensuality (on page or otherwise) takes place between characters who are eighteen or older.

000001

"You find yourselves on the bank of an endless river surrounded by towering mountains. The air is heavy with moisture which threatens to leech the strength from your muscles. There is a light breeze blowing down the valley carrying the chill from the snow-covered mountains. The sun is low against the rolling hills surrounding you, but it's impossible to tell if it is dawn or dusk."

"What'd we do, teleport here?" Vincent Albers interjected. "How would we not know what time of day it is?"

Colwyn Smalley huffed in frustration and snapped. "Because you're just waking up. Now zip it and let me set the scene."

"My mistake," Vincent muttered with his hands raised in surrender. The gesture highlighted his size, as each of his splayed hands was the size of a dinner plate. He was also built like a small forward. Or perhaps, considering his flowing red hair and even longer beard, it would have been more accurate to compare him to a berserker. He said, "Do please go on, most revered Game Master."

Colwyn sighed, looking at the other players around the table to gain their acquiescence before continuing. He was a heavyset mustachioed man of forty-two years with close-cropped reddish-brown hair. He was wearing a mousy-colored robe he had picked up at a flea market a few years prior which he had been assured had been pilfered from the wardrobe department of a forgotten sword-and-sorcery movie. He was surrounded by a picket-line of books and crumpled sheets of paper covered in what would appear to the layperson to be hieroglyphics. He lowered his voice to a whisper and said, "The grass is stained red. A coppery smell invades your senses, but you can find no evidence of any bodies."

"I cast a spell of seeing," Ross Crantz, a slight man with blonde hair and a friendly face, declared gleefully.

"That's not a thing," Gil Stern, a corpulent man with a bushy brown beard and a ready smile, said to his indefatigable comrade with a laugh. "You have to read your damn character sheet, you ignorant wretch."

"Fine!" Ross grumbled. "I cast a..." he consulted the papers aligned before him before continuing, "a spell of detection."

"Roll dee-twenty," Colwyn offered agreeably.

Ross plucked a nearly rounded object off the table in front of him. He rolled it exuberantly and it promptly rolled onto the floor.

"Sloppy dice," Vincent and Gil announced simultaneously. "Drink!"

Ross sheepishly took a healthy swig from his cup before bending to retrieve the dice and rolling again, albeit more carefully this time. When the dice stopped rolling, he read, "Four."

Colwyn said, "Your spell reveals nothing."

Zoe, Vincent's girlfriend, looked around furtively before saying, "I don't understand what's happening." She was what less couth gamers than Colwyn's trusty companions would refer to as a virgin, as she was participating in her first game. She had a bit of wildness in her eyes as she watched the game unfold. She was of medium height with smallish breasts. Her bespectacled face was topped by dirty blonde hair which none present had ever seen worn in a manner other than a ponytail.

Vincent said, 'It's all about theater of the mind, babe. Just try to inhabit your character and act as you believe they would behave."

"But what the fuck is my character?" she huffed with frustration.

Colwyn said, "You're a lawful-neutral half-elven ranger."

"None of those words mean anything!"

Vincent said, "It was the closest to your personality. You're a fighter but you're also proficient at living off the land and tracking your foes. Your alignment means you favor an orderly society but you're not necessarily always going to side with the good guys. You're also hot as fuck, as you'll see on the second page of your character sheet."

She flipped the page over to reveal a slender humanoid female with long pointed ears and almond eyes who was quite voluptuous. She was dressed in leathers which amounted to little more than a breechcloth and halter top. She was also wearing a sword and had a short bow slung between her full breasts.

She snickered and said, "Where'd you download that thirteen-year-old's wet dream from?"

Vincent said, "Our faithful Game Master renders them on one of his super-computers."

"Oh really? I wonder what else he renders."

Vincent chuckled and said, "I find it best not to ask."

She said, "Whatever. Listen, I agreed to this nerdy shit because you asked nicely, Vinny. And because you promised to go antiquing with me tomorrow."

"And we will," he said pitifully.

"But this shit better start making sense soon or my eye's going to pop out due to sheer frustration."

Ross said, "Forget your character, what would you do in the situation Cole described?

Colwyn snapped, "That's not my name."

Ross said, "My mistake,

Game Master

."

Gil said, "Anyway Zoe, what would you do in this situation?"

"I'd get the fuck out of there."

"Fair enough," Vincent allowed. "Why don't we head upriver? But we should be cautious. Weapons at the ready."

Colwyn said, "As you head upriver, the smell of blood lessens but the stillness of the air is interrupted by the sound of a horse being ridden hard."

"Get down," Vincent snapped.

Colwyn continued, "You secret yourselves along the bank of the river in time to see a horse burst from the tree line roughly a kilometer from you. The rider is headed down river at what is almost literally a breakneck pace. You can see the horse is nearing the point of exhaustion. As the rider approaches, you notice that it is a youngish female human wearing torn robes which are whipping in the wind behind her."

Gil said, "Is anyone chasing her?"

"Your senses do not perceive anyone else in the valley."

Ross said, "I say we reveal ourselves. She might be in trouble." Vincent and Gil nodded while Zoe merely shrugged. Ross continued, "We approach her."

Colwyn said, "Roll dee-twelve."

"Go ahead babe," Vincent said, holding the indicated die out to her.

She rolled it and said, "Eleven. Is that good?"

Vincent said, "Usually higher is better. How 'bout it, Game Master?"

Colwyn nodded and said, "She notices you and reigns in her horse's gallop. She heads in your direction. As she approaches, you notice that her robes are more torn than you initially suspected. She is, as near as makes no difference, nude. She makes no move to cover her large, shapely breasts as she stops before you."

"Hey man, you said you'd reign that shit in tonight," Vincent muttered.

Colwyn snapped, "It's germane to the game. Now, no more side talk."

"Sorry babe," Vincent whispered to Zoe.

"It's fine," she responded. "I'm kinda curious to see where this is going. Although, considering the

rendering

, I think I can make some educated guesses."

Colwyn said, "That's one drink for each of you for sidebar conversations. Now, the woman dismounts and walks over to Sretaw."

"Who?" Zoe whispered.

"That's my character name," Vincent responded quietly. He then raised his voice and said, "Are you in danger, milady?"

Colwyn said, "Her eyes scan worriedly across your group, lingering noticeably on Ross's mage robes. Her manner is nervous, but her movements are both deliberate and graceful. She also makes no move to cover her nakedness despite the chill of the morning air causing her nipples to harden noticeably."

Gil said, "Is she carrying any weapons?"

"None are in evidence, but she notices your gaze and arches her back to accentuate her breasts."

Zoe said, "I approach her."

Colwyn said, "She gives you a quick once over and then takes another longer gaze. Her eyes widen as she notices your elven features."

"I continue to approach her. Does she reach for a weapon?"

"No, but she does reach out to touch you. Her movements are halting and from your vantage point you can see that she's nearly unconscious with fatigue. She rests her hand on your arm. As she does, you feel a jolt of electricity surge through your body. You immediately feel turned on. The woman smiles wanly. She opens her mouth to speak but before she can form words, an arrow strikes her shoulder. You all turn to find a large group of ogres emerging from the trees and headed in your direction."

Vincent said, "We turn to meet them in battle. Stay behind me honey and try to pick off the stragglers. Gil, see what you can do to slow them down. Ross, heal the girl."

The group all wore grim expressions as they pulled out their respective dice and prepared for mock mortal combat with the foes who had suddenly become quite real to their imaginations. Colwyn smiled inwardly at the way they lost themselves in the scene, each barking out responses to the game he had spent several weeks building. This was where he was happiest, weaving a tale of adventure and intrigue and watching his closest friends' resulting enjoyment. He had tried his hand at writing, even securing a modest advance based on a treatment he had adapted from one of his games. But he had been unable to translate the vibrancy of his games into the written word. Something about the interaction with the players brought the scenario to life in a way no other medium could match.

Colwyn had first discovered role-playing games at summer camp when he was in high school, and it had changed his life. Suddenly, he not only had an outlet for the creativity raging within him, but he also found a small group of likeminded young men. Colwyn had not enjoyed high school. The material was so unchallenging for him that he routinely went weeks without really hearing anything his instructors said. Their ire only increased when the overweight young man who spent the entire class sketching in the margins of his textbook had the temerity to ace every evaluative event. High school was also the last time when the bullies had had a noticeable influence over his life. He was never entirely clear on why they despised him so thoroughly. Unlike college, his exemplary performance had no impact on their grades. And he was certainly not competing with the bullies for the romantic attentions of his classmates from the fairer sex.

Role-playing games had become his singular distraction, first through playing them followed increasingly by running his own games. Through fifteen years of college, and more degrees than he could remember, his games were all he would allow himself for recreation. Upon what he called his final graduation and his entry into the private sector, he had found a small group of locals who now used RPGs to distract them from the demands of their careers and families. He hosted a game every Saturday afternoon at his home on the outskirts of town. He had, in fact, purchased this particular home because it had an ideal space for running a game. The

Chamber

, as he called it, was nearly forty square meters with a vaulted ceiling and no windows. He had covered the walls with sound dampening, dark grey paint and placed a large sturdy table at the room's center. It was surrounded by comfortable chairs which made long gaming sessions possible.

As the battle reached its conclusion with the gamers winning a hard-fought victory, the game reached a logical stopping point for the evening. The gamers began collecting their effects, placing their dice into small felt bags and filing their character sheets in carefully decorated binders. Colwyn showed his guests to the door, fighting against the discomfort he felt around others, no matter how familiar, outside of very specific circumstances. He had often marveled at how he could spend six hours with a group of near strangers during a game without feeling the tiniest bit of discomfort. But as soon as the game broke up, Colwyn felt an almost crippling level of anxiety. He saw his guests to the door because he had been raised to show certain social courtesies. He also was honest enough with himself to admit that seeing people to the door typically led to them leaving more quickly.

As he stood by the front door and saw his guests out, Vincent and Zoe smiled warmly at him before making their way towards his car. Gil and Ross hung back, looking around Colwyn's quite large, and reasonably empty house.

Gil said, "You should host a game night."

Colwyn raised an eyebrow and said, "You're quite literally just leaving a game night that I hosted."

Ross said, "He means a sports game night. The football playoffs are starting soon, and I've seen your home theater. It would look fantastic in there."

Gil said, "And who knows, maybe we can get more chicks to show up besides Vincent's girl."

000010

A message popped up in the notification area of the computer to Colwyn's left. He purposely ignored it, as he had the eleven messages that had preceded it. He had made it quite clear to the individual who was administratively responsible for him that interruptions had a cascading impact on overall productivity. He had even gone to the lengths of preparing a memo, including eleven citations and two algorithms he had invented, to make his point. His 'boss' had been unimpressed until Colwyn had published said memo in an engineering journal. This had caused a great deal of excitement at Colwyn's place of employment. He tried to ignore them, but he had been unable to avoid several meetings which had seemed to revolve around the concept of intellectual property belonging to the company. Colwyn had studiously ignored the meetings and gladly signed several papers offered to him in return for being allowed to return to the relative solitude of his office.

A knock sounded at his door, which he also ignored, but moments later his door opened and his boss entered. Colwyn had learned that the easiest path through such encounters was to pretend to be interested so he turned from his bank of monitors to face the unwelcome visitor.

"I've been pinging you all morning. What's going on? Did you forget to turn on your computer again?"

Kurt Renfro was an almost offensively handsome man of average height but above average facial structure and musculature. He had been placed in charge of the special projects division shortly after Colwyn was hired, and had quickly demonstrated a thorough lack of understanding of even the most basic elements of both science and engineering. Colwyn had early on committed the apparently severe social faux pas of pointing out that Kurt's rapid promotion to his current position was due to the fact that his grandfather had founded the billion-dollar company.

Kurt continued, "You missed this morning's stand-up. Again."

Colwyn said, "I had no blockers, which is the primary purpose of stand-ups. I'm not collaborating with anyone else, in any case. Due both to the fact that I am perfectly capable of completing my assigned tasks in the time allotted and the fact that no one else at this company has even a passing understanding of my work. That meeting serves no purpose for me, and I serve no purpose to anyone else by attending that meeting. Q.E.D. it would be a waste of company resources for me to attend said meeting. Is there anything else?"

"What?"

"Which word did you not understand?"

"You can't skip a meeting just because you don't think it will help you. What if someone else needed your assistance?"

"This company does not pay me to assist individuals whose scientific acumen matches mine when I was still in grade school. It pays me to figure out problems which no one else can even fathom."

Kurt huffed and said, "It also pays you to do what you're told. You're not in charge here,

Colwyn

. I don't care how smart you think you are."

"Would you like me to produce irrefutable evidence as to the level of my intellect?"

"No!"

Colwyn remained silent for a few moments as his boss fumed across from him. At length, Colwyn shrugged and turned back to his computers. At this move, Kurt stood and said, "I wasn't finished."

Colwyn sighed and turned back to face the younger man. He said, "Very well. How else may I be of service?"

"You will be at your scheduled meetings. You will be on time. You will pay attention and participate to the best of your ability."

"No," Colwyn replied simply.

"What do you mean no? You work for me. You do what I say."

Colwyn stared at the ceiling for a few moments before replying, "You can't make me, Kurt."

"Mr. Renfro."

"Kurt," Colwyn said pointedly. "This company bid for my services when I decided to leave academia. Against fifteen other companies. And I am doing exactly what I agreed to in our contract. That contract made no mention of frivolous meetings, so I choose to skip them."

"I'll fire you if you don't do as I say."

"No, you won't. If you tried, your grandfather would overrule you. And, if you somehow managed to get your way, I'd be working for one of your competitors before sundown."

"You signed a non-compete," Kurt said with a satisfied smirk.

"Which is invalidated if you fire me. The non-compete only applies if I quit."

"Damnit," Kurt muttered softly. He then raised his voice and said, "Well then you'll get a terrible review, and no salary increase."

"That is acceptable considering I already make a more than sufficient salary. Is there anything else?"

Kurt stood and left without a word, freeing Colwyn to return to his work. But he soon realized that the momentum he had painstakingly built up over the course of the morning had vanished in the wake of his boss's annoying interruption. He quickly locked his computers and haltingly left his office to head to the cafeteria. He passed countless people on his journey, some of whom greeted him by name, but Colwyn just kept his head down and kept walking. He often wondered at why he could keep countless facts, both professional and game-related, in his head with ease but he could not remember the names of people who had been introduced to him multiple times. His mother had suggested it was caused by his unwillingness to devote his attention to people during social interactions. He suspected there was some truth to this hypothesis, but that another factor was that he had subconsciously deprioritized introductions as typically yielding little to no benefit to him, so he tried to avoid them at all costs.