The Ghost Tower: A LitRPG Adventure

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  While Zara was the largest of their group, she hauled the lightest load. Looking like an overflowing pack mule, Newt carried numerous bags and backpacks weighing far more than he should be able to hold. Terran suspected that his gravomancer class gave him some ability to carry such extreme weights, since they hung on him with practiced ease.

  They headed southwest to intersect the Old Road, which would take them west to Salt Luck. The nearer the coast they got, the more the trees changed, and the air changed in smell, tickling the interior of his nose with salt, until finally they crested a scrub-covered hill, revealing the little town nestled into the bay. A half dozen ships were at the docks, while smaller fishing boats dotted the harbor.

  Zara stretched her muscular arms wide, inhaling deeply. "This is more like it. I love a good forest, but the sea calls to me like an erstwhile lover. What I wouldn't give for a good pirate adventure."

  "I bet they have good taverns," said Flynn.

  "We're not here for the ships or the taverns," said Terran, receiving sour expressions for his comment. "But maybe once this rot business is behind us, we can return and sample the local delights."

  The town stretched along a short section of the bay, which was high and rocky enough for buildings, while the remainder of the coast was mucky scrubland, not a beach in sight. The docks ran the length of Salt Luck. The buildings were one or two stories, painted in bright colors, mostly centered along the docks, but smaller clusters could be seen farther out in the nearby hills. Despite the bright exteriors the constructions looked sturdy, their doors reinforced as if they worried about attacks, which was to be expected along a coast known for pirates.

  The town wasn't bustling by any means, but compared to Gneiss Glen, it felt overflowing with people. As they strolled down the street, they only received a few second glances, mostly from the sea dwarves, which seemed to be the primary race that populated the town, though humans, and other races, including a few Rock Leaf Elves, could be seen.

  Assuming a sign with a wagon wheel was for a tavern, Terran pushed inside, finding a comely dwarf woman seated behind a desk reading from a thin book. She had rosy cheeks and blonde hair so pale it almost looked silver.

  "Greetings, Travelers. I'm Jaina Foamherder," said the woman in a pleasant lilting accent as she tossed the book aside. "Looking for a room or two at the Great Wheel?"

  Terran cleared his throat. "We are, thank you." He checked with his friends. "Two rooms, please." He paid for two nights after she quoted a price. "May I ask a question about the town?"

  "Sure thing, hun," said Jaina, shooting him a playful wink as she leaned forward on the desk. "Ale, dice, or whores?"

  Flynn snorted from behind him.

  "Excuse me?" asked Terran.

  "Ale, dice, or whores?" asked the innkeeper. "You don't look like sailors, and those are the only other reasons that people come to Salt Luck."

  "Don't you have a library?" asked Terran, the mention of which brought Newt's head up from his open tome.

  "Only private collections, and that's only speculation on my part," said the innkeeper. She winked at Terran. "But I would certainly show you my private collection if you asked nicely."

  Her rosy cheeks and braided blonde hair made for an intriguing package, but he was still holding onto Chanterelle's memory, hoping she might come back. He let the offer fall, providing a weak half smile as his answer.

  "We're also looking for a gnome trader named Vievel. Ever heard of him?" he asked.

  Jaina snorted. "The gnome without a kingdom to rule. I'd guess everyone in Salt Luck knows him. Rare breed, that one. He sets up shop at the marketplace just down the street. Can't miss him."

  "That's good news. What about the services of an arborist?" he asked.

  Her smile faltered at the word, which was both hopeful and concerning. She stood tall and crossed her arms, the corners of her lips curling towards the floor.

  "We don't like trouble here in Salt Luck," said Jaina.

  Under his breath, Flynn muttered, "Hence the ale, dice, and whores."

  Terran held up his hands. "How would an arborist be trouble? I'm sorry, is there a different definition of the word I'm not understanding?"

  Jaina uncrossed her arms, squinting speculatively. "So you don't know Ash?"

  "Ash? Is that the name of an arborist in town? Sorry, we come from Gneiss Glen, looking for an arborist. We heard there was one here," said Terran.

  "Gneiss Glen? The Rock Leaf Elves? I'd heard that settlement had returned." Jaina shifted her mouth to the side. "You all don't look like Rock Leaf Elves... well, maybe you do, a little, but definitely not the big one."

  "I'm Terran. I'm the leader of the settlement. So where is this Ash?"

  She shook her head slightly. "Ash Cockwillow. He's in jail."

  A pit formed in Terran's stomach. "In jail? For what?"

  "Putting his cock in the wrong willow," said Jaina. "You'll have to ask him the rest of the details."

  "Thank you, Jaina. Can you point us in the direction of the jail?" he asked.

  Terran chose to locate Vievel first since he was closest. They found the gnome hawking the wares he had spread out on a blanket.

  Vievel's eyes widened as he saw the group of adventurers nearing. "What a surprise to find you here," he said, bowing towards Terran.

  "Hi, Vievel von Popsmieke the Third," Terran said, returning the bow. "How goes setting up a steel trade for Gneiss Glenn?"

  Vievel's face reddened. "Not as lucrative as I had hoped. It seems the mayor here is much less amenable to making deals these days. I was hoping to convince him over time, but it does not appear promising."

  "Might be difficult to do any convincing if you're here selling your things instead of meeting with the mayor," Terran pointed out.

  Vievel stood straighter. "These things take time, sir, and one must be able to live in the meantime. Perhaps you would have better luck with the mayor."

  "I meant no offense, Vievel. I'm sure you're doing all you can. If the mayor can't be convinced, then perhaps your efforts are best spent somewhere else. Thank you for trying," Terran said with a smile.

  The gnome took off his feathered hat with a flourish and bowed again. "Yes, quite true. I shall pack up my things and search out other sources for steel beginning first thing tomorrow. Who knows, I may even head to Dagrath."

  "Just make sure to seek out the settlement soon. I think you'll be surprised how much things have changed. Thank you for trying to help," Terran said, turning to leave.

  The directions to the jail weren't hard to follow. There were only a few ways they could have gone, but the square stone building could have been grain storage for its plainness. The inside of the building was a stark contrast to the outside, leaving Terran wondering if he'd entered the right place. The interior reminded him of the crystalline conservatory, if Zoras were interested in exotic weaponry rather than the collection of lore and the growing of crystals. The angles and contours of the various blades and items of death looked like calligraphy for steel.

  "I think someone here has some real issues," said Flynn, arching an eyebrow.

  Zara looked like she was about to run around the room hugging each weapon in turn. "This place is amazing. Are you sure we're in the jail?"

  "You're not in the jail," said a stern voice from a back room, "but in my personal armory."

  A tall, clear-eyed Rock Leaf Elf with a pinched expression made his entrance as if he were a priest approaching the altar. He wore a long gray-green duster and a wide hat. Terran had the impression he knew him, but he couldn't figure out how.

  "My apologies," said Terran, stepping towards the door. "We're looking for the jail. I must have gotten the directions wrong."

  "You're in the right place. I'm Marshal Aminata Valren, which comes with the duty of jailor and peacekeeper in this town. We don't normally have strangers looking to visit the jail, which makes me rather suspicious of your reasons," he said, pulling aside his duster, revealing a beauti
ful silvery blade with an ornate gilded basket. The way he balanced on the balls of his feet as if he were ready to launch into a brilliant riposte told Terran he would be a formidable opponent, if events came to that.

  Terran held his hands up. "We're here with good intentions. I'm the leader of Gneiss Glen," —the marshal wrinkled his nose—"and we're looking for an arborist who might help us with a tree rot that is attacking the Mother Tree."

  The marshal kept his gaze flat. "You don't look like a Rock Leaf Elf, but yet, you don't not look like one. How did you come to be the leader of the Glen?"

  Terran was glad that the marshal hadn't yet put his hand on the blade at his hip. The elf looked like he was dangerous with that blade, and while he thought he could best him, he wasn't ready to pull the whole town upon them.

  "A long story that involves me rescuing the seed of the Mother Tree from the Crag Trolls," said Terran.

  Aminata squinted. "I'd heard stories, some that spoke of such a thing, but stories are like the tide. Some look safe, while others will pull you under and drown you."

  The resemblance finally made its match, and Terran snapped his fingers, which twitched Aminata's hand towards his blade. "Lhoris Valren. Are you related? You look a little like him."

  The glance away told Terran there was something more, but the marshal nodded. "Half-brother. Is he in the settlement?"

  "He is my weaponmaster," said Terran.

  The marshal made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat. "Better for the both of us."

  You have been offered a quest: Repair the rift between Lhoris and Aminata

  Reward: Experience and increased Salt Luck faction

  "So... is Ash Cockwillow here?" asked Terran.

  "He is, but there's no use talking to him, he's not getting out, not for a long time," said the marshal, crossing his arms.

  "Could we talk to him anyway? Maybe he can point us in the direction of another arborist or tell us how we might stop the rot," said Terran. "I promise we won't try anything. I'd like to open up trading with Salt Luck, so breaking a prisoner out of your jail is the last thing I'd do."

  Marshal Aminata rubbed his chin. "Fine. You may speak to him. But stand away from the bars... for his safety and yours."

  The warning brought curious glances from his friends. The marshal led them into another part of the building. Half the room was taken up by cells, only one of which was currently occupied by a Rock Leaf Elf that looked to be the opposite of what Terran envisioned when he heard the word arborist. Ash Cockwillow looked like a medieval pimp in a flashy purple tunic bespeckled with tiny gemstones, his black hair slicked back. A wide-brimmed hat with a peacock feather sticking up rested in his lap.

  You have completed the quest "Find an arborist."

  You have been offered a quest: Find a way to free the arborist

  Reward: Experience and other benefits depending on outcome

  This is one of those "you get more than you bargained for" quests.

  "Brought some visitors to show off your zoo?" said Ash in a high melodic voice as he gently fanned himself with his hat. "Or acquiring help to yank that stick out of your exquisite rear?"

  The marshal speared him with a dead-eyed glance. "They're here for you. Behave or I'll chain you to the bed again."

  Ash widened his eyes, an excited curl to his lips. "Don't promise what you can't deliver, Marshal." The arborist slid his hat onto his head and approached the front of his cell as if he were at a pageant. "And what would four delicious Offworlders like yourself want with an elf like me?"

  Before Terran could answer, Zara dead-panned in a low voice, "A five-second snack by the looks of you."

  Ash feigned horror by quivering his hand over his mouth while Flynn snorted, and Newt actually looked up from his tome.

  "Oh, I like you," said the arborist, leering speculatively at the tall redheaded warrior.

  "We're from Gneiss Glen," said Terran, quickly introducing himself and his friends. "I'm looking for an arborist to help with a strange rot that's affecting the trees."

  Ash's over-the-top antics calmed as he focused his attention on Terran. "Tell me more."

  Terran gave the arborist a rundown of how the rot came to be, and the way it was affecting the trees. To his surprise, the arborist did not once question his leadership of the settlement.

  "Tell me, the Mother Tree is truly back, returned to her previous glory?" asked Ash longingly.

  "I cannot say if she's at her previous glory," said Terran, thinking about the missing essences. "But the settlement is growing and thriving. I came to Salt Luck to open up trade and hopefully find a willing arborist."

  Ash wandered back to the bench, plopped down, and crossed his legs. "Oh, I am willing, but I'm afraid I cannot help you, unless you're in the jailbreaking business." The comment brought the marshal's head up, since he'd moved back to his desk and was busy writing on some parchment. Ash waved at him with only the tips of his fingers. "The fact that this rot probably came from the Silent Plains is worrisome, but I can say no more without being able to analyze the trees for myself. I am a miracle worker, but not from afar. I'm very sorry."

  "What, may I ask, got you put in jail?" asked Terran.

  Ash glanced away coyly. "A misunderstanding with a lady friend's husband. I invited him to join us and everything, but he declined. His loss."

  A grumble from the marshal signaled that there was more to the story, not that Terran couldn't see that himself, but he hesitated to ask, knowing that the answer wasn't going to be pleasant.

  "Why again did that earn you a trip to jail? Is adultery a crime?" asked Terran.

  "Not usually, I suppose, but you see, it was the mayor's wife," said Ash, bouncing his shoulders and sighing.

  "The mayor's wife," said Flynn. "Now that's a bit of trouble that even I know better than to get into."

  When they looked at him, Flynn shrugged and said, "Maybe?"

  "Maybe we can talk to the mayor," said Zara. "Purchase his freedom, or do him a favor. We need him, right?"

  "Most definitely," said Terran, thinking about how the rot was getting worse rapidly. "Marshal, do you think the mayor would be agreeable to a trade or something for the arborist?"

  Aminata glanced up from his work. "If it were up to me, I'd send him with you right now, just to be rid of him, but Arabast Salthammer owns this town, and I cannot speak for him."

  "Well, I needed to talk to him anyway about trade routes," said Terran.

  After acquiring directions from Aminata, they headed off, but upon finding the mayor's residence realized it wouldn't have required them. The building was the only three-story in the area, with a wraparound porch and gilded mage lights leading up through a manicured path of bushes and fruit trees. The lush greenery surrounding the building was in stark contrast to the rocky shore of the bay, where only tough, golden grass waved in the breezes further up on the hillsides. In the town, there was little true foliage, except for on the mayor's property.

  "Someone has a green thumb," remarked Terran.

  "Probably how the mayor's wife became acquainted with Ash," said Zara. "I'll offer a few tips in exchange for your time."

  "Neither the tips nor the time meant what you said," chuckled Flynn, receiving an eye roll from the tall redhead.

  Terran hesitated at the painted front door. He checked behind them.

  "What's wrong?" asked Flynn.

  Terran searched his inner feelings. Something about the place didn't feel right, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

  "Dunno, but keep your eyes out, and behave yourselves. I suspect this isn't going to be as easy as I first hoped," said Terran.

  "Right-o, Captain," said Flynn, offering a mock salute.

  "We don't have to bring him inside," said Zara, holding up a fist. "We could leave him sleeping in the bushes for this one."

  Terran arched an eyebrow at Flynn. "I think he'll be okay, this time, but I'll keep that in mind."

  A rap on the door brought
a servant in a waistcoat. The young sea dwarf had a clean face and short brown hair.

  "Mayor Arabast Salthammer's residence. How may I help you?" asked the servant.

  "I'm Terran... the leader of Gneiss Glen. I've come to visit the mayor and discuss trade between our two towns."

  The young sea dwarf blinked, gave an incredulous headshake as he examined the four of them, then shut the door and disappeared into the property. After a long few minutes, the servant returned, ushering them inside.

  "The mayor will see you in his den."

  In a wing of the house that faced the white-capped bay, as afternoon winds blew in from the west, they found Mayor Arabast in a room filled with trophy animals and a few shelves of books. Terran barely had a moment to glance at an enormous winged creature on display in the corner before the mayor turned and greeted them. He was tall, broad shouldered, and had stark blue eyes that looked like they'd been cut from northern ice.

  "Welcome, Terran of Gneiss Glen, and his companions," said the mayor, offering a granite-gripped handshake that gave Terran no doubt that Arabast had been the one to fell the winged beast on display in the corner.

  "Greetings," said Terran, and he introduced his friends. "Thank you for this audience. We've been quite taken by your town. You've built quite a home here along the coast."

  The keen-eyed sea dwarf made a noise in the back of his throat. "I don't need your flattery. These are hard lands and require a hard leader. Tell me what you're after, and we'll see if we might make a deal."

  "Right, I'll get to business—"

  Mayor Arabast crossed his arms. "No Offworlder tricks either. If I get a whiff of magic or skullduggery, there won't be a person in this town who will even offer a fart in trade."

  Terran cleared his throat, but before he could make his argument, Zara, who'd wandered over to the winged creature on display, asked, "What is this magnificent beast?"

  Arabast squinted, but his lip twitched with pride. "A dorrock. It ambushed me when I was fishing for cod in the bay. I was in a skiff with my back to the sun. Caught its shadow before it put its claws in me. I tackled it into the water and drowned it before it could slice open my entrails." He pulled back the sleeve on his coat, revealing a long scar. "Had to swim back to land before the sharks could catch me. Was a thrilling day."