Dungeon Item Shop

Fresh sits at the edge of the cut-off space, the glow of the entrance to the farm washing over her face as she sits there and stares at it. Lifting a hand, she pokes her finger into the mist.

It just feels kind of cold, honestly. Well, no, not even cold. It’s just like walking through fog. It’s a little damp and the consistency of the air feels different because of the moisture. It’s magical, of course. But anything more exact than that is really hard to say.

What does that even mean, ‘magical’?

Obviously there is some sort of… spatial or dimension-based wobbly-woo going on with the cut-off spaces. In the dungeons, despite there only ever being ‘one’ of every dungeon, every person is allowed their own unique instance of it. In the adventurer’s guild, this is the same principle in action as well.

But that doesn’t seem to be what’s happening here, with this secret portal to ‘the farm’. This is just one, singular cut-off space that leads to an area by the dungeon. But why is it here? For what purpose?

Basil had told her that magical scholars, priests and lore-masters from all over the world had studied the dungeons and the cut-off spaces, some devoting their entire lives to the cause, only to find a fruitless tree waiting for them at the end of their years. The priestess had said that the gods made these magical doors and to try and understand them was a fool’s errand in her opinion, because they simply aren’t here for people to understand. The gods put them here for people to use, not to understand and there is a significant difference between those two things.

Fresh tilts her head, tracing with her finger through the fog.

Still, it could be interesting if she could learn something about this magic, anything at all, really. Surely there is a potency to be harnessed here? Some kind of magical residue or something that can be used?

She racks her brain, but doesn’t seem to be able to come up with anything on the spot. Maybe this is one of those conundrums that just needs to be slept on for a few days? That’s assuming there is anything to be found here to begin with. It could just be that, for all of the mystery and magical intrigue behind these magical doors, that the simplest answer is that there is no real magical principle to be harvested or learned from them. They might just exist because they exist.

It is what it is.

“So,” says Jubilee, staring across the table, their hands folded there. They raise an eyebrow.

“So…” says Basil, her eyes closed as she nods once.

Fresh blinks, looking at them.

“So,” is all that Shamrock says.

“So what, guys?” she asks, not sure what it is that they’re doing.

Jubilee points at the black, bubbling potion in the center of the table. “So, what the fuck are we going to do with this swill?” they ask. Fresh looks down at the potion she had made yesterday, together with Shamrock. It’s a simple thing, made up out of nothing but a black onyx stone and some sunwater.

Fresh follows their finger, staring at the bottle. “What do you mean?”

“What the fuck do you think I mean?” asks Jubilee. “You made a potion that literally turns people into monsters.”

“We thought it was a good idea,” says Fresh. “Right, Shamrock?”

“Yes,” nods the man.

“But what does that even mean?” considers Basil. She scoots the other bottle towards herself, the one made with the ground up peridot stone. “This one changes your attribute to ‘light’, which is fine, I suppose.” She lifts the bottle up. “I knew a few others from the church who have that sub-attribute. It’s great for people who want to, how would you say it?” she asks, looking at Jubilee. “- Do ‘less healing and more blasting’.”

“I wish we had gotten one of them instead,” says Jubilee. “Sound like some fun people for parties.”

“They’re not,” replies Basil, setting the bottle back down. “Half of the inquisition has the sub-attribute light. They don’t have parties,” she says, shaking her head.

“So what’s the problem?” asks Fresh.

“No problem,” says Jubilee. “At least not one that I’m worried about anymore, considering the scale of problems that we usually produce.”

“But it is unusual,” says Basil.

Fresh scratches her cheek. “Unusual?”

“Unusual,” repeats Basil, nodding. She pokes at the onyx-potion. “Changing your attribute to ‘monster’, what does that even mean?”

Fresh shrugs. “I guess it means what it says?”

“Sure,” replies Basil. “But that’s the thing. There is no sub-attribute called ‘monster’. Not that I know of, at least.”

Shamrock raises his hand.

“It’s different,” says Basil. “You can change your class from a wizard to a priest and you’d change your attributes accordingly. But being a ‘monster’ isn’t something you can choose. It’s something you’re born as or not.” Basil looks over towards Jubilee. “Apart from a few exceptions.”

“Hmm…” Fresh thinks for a moment. “I guess it’s just my magic being weird again?” she guesses.

Basil sighs, sliding the potion over to Jubilee. “I suppose that’s the case as well.”

“But other than that?” asks Fresh, looking hopefully for some praise. “The healing effect?”

The priestess and Jubilee look at each other for a moment, nodding, before turning back to her. “Half a year ago,” says Jubilee. “I’d whack you over the head and call you a dumb-ass for making this,” they say. “Do you realize what this is?” they ask, holding up one of the potions. “A potion that can cure literally every ailment in an instant?” Fresh shrugs. “Powerful people have been murdered for things way less interesting than this.”

“Gods, even,” says Basil. Jubilee rolls their eyes.

Fresh shrugs. “So…”

“- The usual,” says Jubilee. “You made a thing that we may or may not get murdered for. But that’s fine, we’ll just put it on the murder-pile with the rest of the stuff.”

“It’s worked out well so far,” says Basil, leaning back.

“Has it though?” replies Jubilee. Basil stares their way for a moment and then turns to look out of the upstairs window. Fresh shrugs, pretty sure that it has. Though, to be fair, the murder-pile is getting pretty big these days…