Milton Greer

Milton felt the weight of being the storyteller. He wore chain mail, which had been hand crafted by the, somewhat dwarf looking, armor smith at the Ren Faire a couple years ago. On his back he carried a replica of Glamdring, Gandolf's sword. He wore these things so he wouldn't break the immersion of the game.

Around him stood a girl dressed as an elf, complete with ears, an old wizard, red robe and stage beard and a warrior, a cardboard shield and a grey foam sword. They waited for his description of what it was they had stumbled into. To them, they were not in the woods down the hill from his house, they were in the Forbidden woods trying to recover the Claymore of the Ravenlocks, which had been taken in the most recent orc raid.

Milton pulled the dice cup from his pocket and held it out to each of his players. They then dropped a twenty sided die into the cup. He shook the cup, poured it into a cigar box, discarded by me of his roommates, and turned to the waiting players. "With every gentle breeze in these woods, the trees creek and moan. Whispering voices carried from the dark tell you to get out. You are not wanted here. You elf guide seems to take in everything, she watches the movement of the animals, the bending of the branches, the play of sun and shadow. She watches a single orange leaf drop to the ground in front of you and it draws her attention to a foot print. The foot print of an Orc."

From up the hill a motorcycle came to life, drawing everyone's attention. "Damn," thought Milton, "I had them." But it was Frank, and it had been Frank and McCafferty who had made the decision he could take the spare room and even use the woods for his new company. They didn't understand why people would pay to dress up and hear a story, but they didn't see any harm to it.

After moving in, it was clear Milton was not one of them. Gabe, who would have preferred to rent the room to someone else, was obsessed with his Mustang and spent hours missing. Who knew what he did? McCafferty was probably the most like Milton, knew Tolken and liked Penny Arcade comics, but he was a doctor, sure a pathologist, but still, and he hunted. Frank, though, was cool. He seemed to have some military background and he was a motorcycle mechanic. If they were an away team, Frank would be the captain. Then their was Milton, recently lived in his parents basement, never really had a girlfriend, owned fantasy swords, including a battle ready lightsaber, and made his living on computer repair and telling stories for rich nerds.

Milton realized he had been lost in thought of his life, distracted by Frank's bike, and his players were waiting. "When she walks to examine the print, lifting the leaf which had fallen into the imprint, she catches the smell of them in the air. She can feet their heavy footfalls, as vibrations coming through the tree she rests her hand on. They are close."

"Milton," he could hear the voice of McCaffrety, as if down a long hallway. "Milton, get up.". He was no longer in the forest, no longer concerned about how his life had turned out. He made out the features of his doctor friend in the dark. He was in a cave in Arkansas. He and his roommates had made this their home when they heard the meteor was going to impact the earth. They fled Memphis as it was falling into chaos. Three guys who had useful skills in this situation, and Milton. The least he could do was take his watch.

Milton got to his feet, ignited his lightsaber, so he could make out the path in front of him, and walked the room in the cave while his fellow survivors slept.