Dungeon Item Shop

Daylight shines all around her with rich intensity as Fresh steps out of the dungeon with her singed mushroom-cap in hand, feeling much better than when she had entered inside of it the night before. It takes a second for her eyes to adjust. but then, after they do, she sees the familiar sight of the bustling city during the light of a new, early morning. Adventurers of all manner and type hustle around her, moving in and out of the dungeon-gate and swarming down the way towards the nicer market square, which is near the entrance. Is that where all the shops are, all the way down there?

She looks around, wondering why there are none here, right next to the dungeon? Wouldn’t this be prime real-estate for a store? But as she stands there, clutching the single mushroom-cap against her chest, she notices again that the buildings here are rather drab and poorly built, compared to the high-standards that had apparently been applied to the other end of the city. Maybe it just isn’t popular to live by the dungeon? Odd. She wonders why and keeps walking, following a stream of adventurers down towards the entrance to the city.

Looking around herself as she walks, she notices many things that she had simply walked past during her first two excursions down the road. Smiths who are busy at work, hammering on metal constructions out in the open, as if putting on theatrical shows of their craft. Fletchers weaving threads and spanning wood. A tailor measuring a hulking giant of a woman for a new dress. An alchemist and a broad-jawed swordsman arguing loudly about the strength of some potions or something of the manner. She wonders who she could sell her cap too? She wonders if the money is enough to even do anything with? Still. It will be a start. Even if it’s only a few cents, a few coins that didn’t even add up to a loaf of bread; it’s a start and that’s all she wants.

If Mr. Mushroom can respawn too, like she did, then maybe she can get him again? If that works out, she could get one of these caps every day. That is assuming that she’ll catch him off-guard each and every time. Fresh lets out an uneasy groan, she has her doubts about that plan. Mr. Mushroom recognized her, so if he respawns too, then he’ll know about her trick now, right? The girl looks ahead of herself, a man in leather, carrying a large pack that is covered in dozens of the big orange caps, is walking just in front of her and turns into a small store, the door jingling as he enters. A sign outside reads ‘Bits and Bob’s.’ She supposes that it’s some kind of general store, perhaps?

Stepping to the side, she watches the scene through the well polished window. The man goes to the counter and unloads his wares. The shopkeeper studies them for a second and then nods to the man, giving him a few assorted coins, before they part ways again, not a minute later. Fresh steps back, as the door opens and the man in leather steps out to continue on with his day. She hesitates for a moment. What if she makes a fool of herself? What if the man laughs at her for trying to sell him one dinky, little, burnt mushroom-cap? She gulps. It’s all that she has. She has to try.

Her hand catches the door just before it slams shut and she steps inside. The man behind the counter looks up to her curiously. He’s past middle-aged, a thick, salt and pepper mustache adorns his sun-worn face.

He’s quiet for a moment and then stands upright, as if remembering a line he was supposed to recite. “Welcome to Bit’s and Bob’s! I’m Bob, how can I help you today, missy?”

“Uh, hi…” mumbles Fresh, stepping forward somewhat nervously. “I… uh… I’d like to sell this, please!” she says, holding the single mushroom-cap out towards the man and closing her eyes, expecting to be yelled at for her foolishness.

“Well, what’ve you got there?” asks the man and she feels the large mushroom-cap being taken from her grip. “Just one?” asks the shopkeeper, looking at the mountain of them already behind him. “Mm… we usually have a minimum purchase allotment of five. Time is money, you know?” he states, somewhat bothered.

Fresh nods, clenching her fists. She was afraid of something like this. “Yes. Sorry.”

The man makes a puzzled noise and she finds that he eyes her rather suspiciously all of a sudden. “It’s burnt.”

Fresh nods, slowly opening her eyes. “Yes. Sorry… It was my first time in the dungeon.”

He lets out a groan, as if unsure and turns the thing around in his hands. He sighs and sets it down onto the counter, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t do this, but okay. I’ll take it and I’ll give you, uh, let’s see…” he turns it around on the surface, leaning down towards it and inspecting it before looking up to Fresh again and then back to it. “- three Obols.”

Is that a lot? She has no idea. Probably not. Still. Fresh raises her hands in excitement. “Yes, please!”

The man tilts his head, somewhat perplexed at her spontaneous reaction, but then simply nods and digs down into his till and slides three small, bronze coins over the counter. He looks her up and down. “Was this your first?”

“Yes!” cries Fresh proudly, taking the coins and clutching them tightly in her fist, pressing it against her heart. The metal discs feel cool and satisfying to hold. She earned these. These are hers. “It wasn’t easy, but I managed!” she says with a sigh of relief. She reopens her eyes and looks at the man staring at her, realizing she shouldn’t talk so personally to the strange shopkeeper, who probably thought her much the same.

“Are you new to town?” asks the man, leaning back, stroking his mustache, almost as if he were suspicious of something. Fresh looks at him, now unsure. Is she allowed to talk to him about these things? Not like… legally, but isn’t it weird? Is she ‘allowed’ to say that she was literally born yesterday? She sighs, no. No more being afraid. This is a new life for her and she won’t carry her old anxieties with her anymore. She refuses to.

“Yeah, I just arrived,” she says meekly. That’s true, right?

“Ah! I bet you’re from the south, eh? You got that look,” says the man with a bright smile shining out beneath his mustache.

She isn’t sure what that means, but simply nods. “Mm!” A question comes to her mind. Should she? She still feels uneasy, talking to this strange man. “Ah, this might be a weird question, but… do you know where I can learn about magic?”

“About magic?” responds the shopkeeper, leaning forward against the counter. His gaze lowers to the mushroom and then to her bruised arms. “Soft-skinned, eh?” He laughs. “Just down the road here, near the gate. There’s the adventurers’ guild, they can answer any questions about that stuff better than I can. I’m just a merchant.” He waves her off. “And nothing else.”

“Uh…” That was kind of an odd statement, but whatever. Fresh clutches the coins tightly and turns to leave, realizing that she’s probably being shooed away. “Okay, thank you very much!”

“You’re very welcome,” says the friendly shop-keeper. “But next time, come with five and no burn marks, okay?”

“Okay!” She laughs and steps outside. What a friendly, non-suspicious man. Her shoulders drop as the tension leaves her body and she looks at the three small coins in her hand. She has been squeezing them tight enough to leave an indentation in her palm. Her pridefully-shining gaze rises up towards the bright blue sky above herself. Her first adventure has been a success!

The first day of her new life was perhaps sort of a fiasco, but the second one is turning out to be it. It’s turning out to be exactly what she had hoped for. One good morning is all that it takes to make the world seem so much brighter, apparently. She turns to the right to go find the adventurers’ guild, beaming as brightly as the sun itself as she walks, unaware of the eyes watching her from behind, through the glass of the store’s window.

An adventurers’ guild, of course! It’s too obvious! She should have looked for something like that from the start! Fresh knocks herself on the head once, realizing that she has felt oddly silly and air-headed ever since having been reborn.

Razmatazz

Yay, everything is slowly starting to work itself out. Phew. Was afraid for a moment that I was going to make everything hard and sad again!

Obols are a currency from ancient Greece that have a strong mythological connection. When the dead were buried, they would place an Obol into the mouth of the body. So that once the person's spirit reached the underworld, they could then pay Charon to take them across the river Styx.