Village of Noobtown: A LitRPG Adventure (Mayor of Noobtown Book 2)

by Ryan Rimmel

  Shit. I just called it Noobtown.

  After the meal, I stood and stretched. “See you in the morning,” I said, heading to my lean to.

  “Unless I try to escape,” she joked.

  “Are we really doing this again?”

  Chapter 42: Being One with the Earth

  I woke up with a yawn and shook off the last bits of sleep. I checked my nubs and was pretty sure they had grown ever so slightly, again. I was betting Jarra the Healer could do something about them. Maybe, there was a paste or something she could apply.

  Walking down to the nearby stream, I splashed water on my face and kicked Badgelor in his furry ribs. He stretched and opened one eye. “Is it time to go, yet?”

  “I think so,” I replied.

  “Can I have just five more minutes?” he yawned.

  “No, I think you need to get up.”

  “Sleeping in War Form is not very restful.” he argued.

  “Get up.”

  Badgelor groaned, stretched in a way that made his back pop audibly, and then stood up. There was a loud gasp from beneath him. “I will kill you, you evil badger!”

  “Oh, you didn’t escape,” I stated.

  “She is bad at escaping,” replied Badgelor. She squirmed for, like, 20 minutes, before giving up. I tried to get comfortable with her, but you know snake gives me gas.”

  Bashara was less than pleased. Badgelor had dug a small pit that he had placed her in. Then, he just slept across her chest and arms. It was like having a 200 pound dog lying on you. A dog that had no intention of moving. At least she didn’t get cold last night.

  I saw her face all scrunched up. For a moment, it looked like she was that same angry, scarred woman that I’d seen before. It was the face of a wild banshee. Just as before, when Bashara calmed down, all I saw were those freckles.

  “Well, I think I’ve learned my lesson,” she said, crawling to her feet. “I’m going to go splash some water on my face and get cleaned up a bit. That is, if that’s okay?”

  “Badgelor, watch her,” I stated, turning back to start a fire. She seemed about to complain, but then stopped. Sighing, she headed toward the creek bank with the badger. He was back to cute badger size and went scurrying and splashing in the shallow water.

  “Thoughts?” I asked, evenly. I was sure Shart was listening. He hadn’t had long to awaken, especially considering his extended activities last night, but I was counting on him being anxious to give his opinions.

  “I don’t trust her,” he stated. “Something is off.”

  “That’s the same thing you said yesterday,” I responded. “Do you care to elaborate?”

  “No.” Shart said and turned his head from the conversation.

  “We’ll be at the fortress in a few hours. We can interrogate her further, then, if it’s really necessary.”

  Shart said nothing more. Perhaps, he really had partied too long last night. More likely, he was being difficult as revenge for me weaponizing him yesterday...multiple times.

  I walked a quick circle around the campsite and found a small patch of Mealroot. I’d been hoping for that. Fenris said that a Woodsman typically planted it anywhere they expected to go more than a few times. They used it as sort of an emergency ration. Some people even had a taste for it.

  “Wow, the depths you have sunk,” stated Shart. “Mealroot is the vilest thing in creation.”

  Mealroot: Herb, if prepared, Mealroot will produce a thick broth that can sustain a person for a day. Eating Mealroot exclusively for several days in a row is unhealthy.

  “Well, it's not snake,” I said, harvesting several. Someone at a high enough skill could plant herbs, and if you harvested them safely enough, than they would regrow. A Woodsman or two must have established this campsite years ago, and it was still in good enough condition to be useful today. There was something nice about that, I thought.

  After checking that Bashara wasn’t looking, I got my pack back from Shart. I had no idea what I’d have done with it, if not for the demon’s internal storage. I retrieved my small pot from the pack and headed to the stream. Staying clear of the Wizard, I collected water for boiling.

  By the time Bashara returned, I had a pot full of simmering Mealroot broth. It resembled very thin porridge. Bashara walked up to me, just as I finished drinking my half. It was about as miserable as you’d expect, considering I’d basically taken a root and boiled it into pudding.

  “Your turn,” I said, handing her the cooling pot. It was still warm to the touch, but not violently hot.

  “Where did you find a pot?” she asked, sniffing the concoction. “Is this Mealroot?”

  “Yes,” I replied, ignoring her first question entirely.

  “Did you put in any healing root?” she asked, apprehensively looking down into the pot. “Straight Mealroot broth gives me gas.”

  “It's that, or nothing,” I said. “If your butthole gets too musical, you can always hold a competition with Badgelor.”

  Bashara rolled her eyes but nodded. Deciding she’d rather be full and gassy than hungry, she chugged her half of the pot’s contents. I left her to it, gathering up the rest of my scattered supplies. When she was finished, I took the pot to wash it and returned.

  “Where did the pot go?” she asked, as we started walking.

  “I put it away,” I replied. I had, in fact, shoved it back into Shart’s belly. When I didn’t offer any further details, Bashara shrugged her shoulders and continued walking.

  We had four more hours to go.

  Chapter 43: The Fate of ThooClicky

  About an hour later, we passed the first group of refugees. There were about 20 of them and a tired looking ox. The fatigued animal was pulling a cart with very few supplies left in it.

  “They certainly don’t look very capable,” stated Badgelor, as we started to get closer. Many of them looked hungry, but not starving. As we got closer still, the adults began to prepare for trouble, even though I wasn’t bringing any. I used Lore on the leader of the bunch.

  HaroldBruce: Farmer. Level 5

  There were more details, but it was mostly pointless. I noticed a hunger status and briefly considered telling them about the Mealroot patch behind us. Then, I realized that I had a better option. I grabbed a palm sized rock from the ground and stood in the middle of the road.

  “Hail,” I called out, standing tall and looking down the entire formation of refugees.

  “Hail to you too, Sir,” stated HaroldBruce, as he stepped forward. He was watching me closely. My War Leader skill informed me that there were 9 adults and 11 children. Six of the adults were armed with various melee weapons, such as spears and axes. The other three adults had bows. They had all taken a keen interest in my party.

  “I am called Jim,” I said. HaroldBruce looked at me. The archer aiming at me shifted targets to Badgelor.

  “That is an unfortunate name,” stated HaroldBruce. “We are traveling to Narwal and do not have any more supplies for strays.”

  “I am a Woodsman, as I’m sure you can tell by my companion.” I gestured towards Badgelor, who perked up at the attention. The third archer changed targets from Bashara to Badgelor.

  “Well, I guess that makes sense,” stated HaroldBruce. “I was the Reave of the small town of ThooClicky.” And my name is silly.

  “Sounds like a wonderful place,” I responded, looking at his name more carefully. Now that I was paying attention, his title shot up over his head, along with his name. I had come to realize that while that sort of information was available, not everyone checked on every random stranger that they ran across.

  “T’was,” he stated glumly. “It’s been overrun by HarCharles’ forces, recently. They took everything and burnt the rest. We are all that remains of ThooClicky.”

  “I am sorry to inform you that the road to Narwal has been overrun by bandits. You will have to continue westward,” I stated, sadly.

  Several of the people glanced amongst themselves. They were runni
ng lean to begin with, and the thought of several more days of travel w going to be miserable. If I’d had any supplies, I’d have given them over, but the Mealroot was actually an improvement over the small amount of food I’d carried with me. My Woodsman skills and my hunting badger had made carrying rations more or less extra weight.

  HaroldBruce stood for a moment, the weight of his journey pressing down on him. I watched as his shoulders developed the tiniest hint of a quiver. Then, it was gone, as he stuck out his lip. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll keep going. There are other cities.”

  “I do know of at least one that is taking new residents,” I said. “The Village of Windfall just recovered from a goblin infestation and could use some new residents. “

  The reaction I was hoping for was a bunch of gratified people. I didn’t get that. Instead, everyone started looking at each other with questioning expressions. HaroldBruce stood silently for a moment, before he finally cleared his throat. “Where is that?”

  “Noobtown,” I said. Everyone’s eyes widened; half the people turned toward the Western Gate Fortress, which was only a few hours east of here.

  “I thought I’d seen a new flag from afar. It looked like some sort of lizard, flying there,” stated HaroldBruce. Several others agreed.

  It took them about ten minutes to get their wagons turned around and I yelled, “Wagons East!”

  Chapter 44: Zorlando

  By the time we’d gotten to the Western Gate Fortress, I’d heard the tales of ThooClicky more times than I’d wanted to. It was a simple farming village. HarCharles army had sacked the place and torn up the old castle, piece by piece. By the time the army had cleared out, there wasn’t anything of value left in the town.

  In turn, I’d told them that there were still goblins in the Valley of Windfall. I’d also explained how the village needed more people, and that we were trying to clear a safe trading route to Narwal. Once we did that, if the ThooClicky people wanted to move on, they could.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” was all HaroldBruce had said in response to my proclamation.

  Of course, I had no idea how we were going to clear that path. There was a time crunch on how long we could afford to not have that trade route. The ThooClickians didn’t have any coin on them, either. I was just going to have to take them in for free, stretching our already tight money supply even tighter.

  We finally crossed the last ridge, giving us our first good view of the fortress. I immediately groaned. Outside the wall was a small sea of tents. I counted nearly a dozen wagons and at least 30 tents divided into two groups. One group was right next to the wall, just off the road to the gate. The other group was just out of bow range from the wall. That group had guards. It also had someone I recognized.

  “Wait with your wagons by the gate,” I stated, “I need to check on something. “HaroldBruce was less than thrilled, but he didn’t want to leave his caravan exposed to the small armed camp, either. He grumbled but kept his people moving.

  I started walking directly towards the armed camp. Fenris’ rugged form was standing with another man who was not quite yelling at my Woodsman but was gesturing quite wildly. The animated man was wearing a chain shirt with a tabard over it. The garment appeared to show a golden fist on some sort of field. His armor was well maintained, as was his sword and shield. As I approached, I used Lore.

  Zorlando: Mercenary Captain: Level 10

  HP: 120/120

  Stamina: 130/130

  Mana: 20/20

  Skills: Pike Journeyman

  Skills: Marching Journeyman

  Talent: War Leader

  Talent: Form Ranks

  A Mercenary Captain is a Mercenary who leads other Mercenaries into large scale battles. Though their arms and armor can change, a Mercenary’s first love is always gold.

  “Oh, he’s fun,” stated Bashara, who was following behind me. She had followed in step with me after we had broken from the caravan. As my prisoner, I supposed that was the right thing for her to do.

  I continued walking. One of the perimeter guards moved to challenge me, so Badgelor expanded to his War Form. The guard was level 8, which would mean a decent fight for Badgelor. However, it was a fight that would ultimately turn the guard into a bloody ruin, regardless. Mr. Level 8 considered his actions for a moment. When I went toward the two arguing men, he backed down. Still, he did bring the hilt of his pike down on a rock loudly enough to draw his Captain’s attention.

  Zorlando looked up sharply, placing the tips of his forefinger and thumb onto his very impressive mustache. He pushed it back, and harrumphed, “Another Woodsman? I care not. I will not be intimidated. “

  “Fenris,” I greeted, as I finally closed in on the duo. Fenris looked nettled. “What seems to be the problem?”

  “What seems to be the problem?” called out Zorlando, his hands resuming their motion. “I have come here, with my men, to offer aid and assistance to the great town of Windfall. This accursed man will not let me take my men though the gate. This dolt insists on denying us access to the valley.

  “Well,” I began, but Zorlando was just inhaling in preparation for his second round.

  “The Golden Fist of Heaven has come to offer out aid. Look at all these refugees! These poor people sit here patiently waiting for word from this mayor. They await a mayor who has run off to the gods know where, abandoning all in their hour of need. I, Zorlando, will continue protecting them from threats from the road, at no pay mind you, for a bit longer. As gods are my witness, I will protect them.” This loud declaration was said all in one breath, which I considered quite impressive. His eyes darted over to Bashara. “Hello Bashara.”

  “Hello, Zorlando,” she replied, coyly.

  Zorlando grew louder again. “I vow to continue extolling my humility and desire to help my fellow man,” he began. He looked at my prisoner again, before letting his whole speech of self-promotion peter out. “Bashara, what are you doing here?”

  “I was captured,” she replied, gesturing at me. “By him.”

  “Such an amazing man, he must be, to capture the mighty Wizard, Bashara. Your name will go down in the history books,” Zorlando began, looking at my name for the first time. “Jim… a man is known by the greatness of his deeds, not his truly and utterly unfortunate name.”

  “I’ve been told,” I replied. Bashara giggled from behind me. Shart giggled from my shoulder. Badgelor giggled from beside me. Fenris appeared too busy being ruffled to find humor in my name, this time.

  “Is your honor intact?” asked Zorlando, glancing at me with a question in his eye.

  “From him, yes. From his badger, it's more debatable,” she said, sniffing. “He used me as a pillow.”

  Zorlando was just about to draw his sword when he properly examined my badger. He grumbled, “If Grebthar the Destroyer has taught us nothing else, it's don’t fight a duel with a badger. “

  Fenris cleared his throat. “They want to come into the valley and ‘assist’ us with the goblins. I’ve never heard of them before, so I told them they would have to wait until the mayor got back. “

  “Yes, your mayor is most tardy,” gestured Zorlando. Seriously, there was a reasonable amount of hand movement one might make in a given time, and this guy was way past it. “Are you sure he is really coming back?”

  I could have been insulted, but, between his mustache, hat, and general mannerisms, it was hard. He was just kind of charismatic, so I let it pass. Hopefully, he was more observant in combat than he was in negotiations. All he had to do was focus on me for my titles to appear.

  “I’m pretty sure,” is all I said. “I’ve heard he was venturing through the forest, just west of here.”

  “Then, alas, I am afraid your poor mayor is doomed,” said Zorlando, sadly. He took off his hat with a flourish. “No one could survive the overwhelming number of pumas that exist in that vile forest. If I had ten times the number of men I do now, I could not break through those vile pumas. On behalf of all my m
en, and, of course, myself, I would like to extend my deepest and most heartfelt condolences on the loss of your mayor. “He ended this with a deep bow.

  “I’ve always called them fecking pumas,” I replied, casually.

  “That does make more sense,” said Zorlando, thoughtfully.

  “The forest north of Narwal is full of bandits, around 50 of them. They call themselves the Pumas,” I said.

  “That’s just confusing,” replied Zorlando.

  “Tell me about it,” I said. “Could your men protect our wagons if we were to go to Narwal that way, though. Could they protect our wagons from a human Puma Gang?”

  Zorlando stroked his mustache and considered it for a moment. “Alas, no. My company is not at full strength. If I had but a few more archers, I could take these bandits. Without more archers, I am afraid that I would be unable to do so.”

  I looked over to Fenris. “Can we spare 20 archers?”

  Fenris frowned, while Zorlando suddenly squinted at me. He examined me much more closely this time around.

  “Hang on,” whispered Shart. “I think realization is commencing.”

  Zorlando turned to Fenris and very loudly whispered, “Your mayor’s name is Jim.”

  “We aren’t happy about it, either.” replied Fenris, still internally debating. “We can spare that many archers, if the goblins don’t attack in force.”

  I switched to menu time and attempted to bring up the town interface. I was still slightly out of range, so it didn’t work. I needed to be in the fortress, at least, before I could access the maps. The only things I knew for sure was that our money was dwindling, and our supplies were increasing. Exact numbers beyond that were just speculation. I wouldn’t know more until I had returned into Noob Valley. Then, the information on the interface would update.