Curnig’s Suppliers is an adventurer’s outfitters. It’s a small shop on Brackwater’s Main Street, tucked in between a bakery and a herbalists. From the outside, it’s fairly unassuming. There’s a wooden door, and a sign made from an old painted shield. But step inside, and you’ll find a dizzying array of incredible things, chaotically arranged. There’s a hollowed out petrified scaly foot of a beast that’s now being used as a bucket, and it’s filled with swords of all different shapes and sizes. A stack of books defy gravity next to it, stretching up to the ceiling like a hardback Jenga tower. There are shelves filled with brightly coloured bottles, next to pendants, next to gloves made of chainmail, next to boxes of rings, next to scrolls, next to a taxidermy mouse playing a small wooden piano. On the wall at the back, shields hang in rows and lined up against the right wall is a group of manikins modeling different types of armor and cloaks.

A man stands behind the shop counter. He introduced himself as Nol Curnig when we walked in, and because he looks a bit like Eric Idle from Monty Python, I’m finding it difficult to take him seriously. I feel like I’ve walked into a comedy sketch that’s about to happen.

“Anything take your fancy sir?” he asks me. “Or anything in particular you or your otter friend are looking for? We have a lot of stock out the back if you’re after something specific.”

We’ve left Misty and Andraya arguing outside. Andraya was as pleased as Misty anticipated about the detour we must make to Orvar’s Cross. She’ll come around, I’m sure. I intend to buy her a small gift as a peace offering to smooth things over.

“Have you got anything to cheer up an angry priest?”

“I have a scroll of fond memories,” he says. “Certain to brighten anyone’s day.”

“How much?”

“Just three gold to recall in vivid detail the happiest moment of your life thus far.”

That’s more than my entire stash. After we paid back Misty’s debt to Koldarus and settled up our tab at the Cackling Pig, we’ve ended up with two gold each, with a spare gold piece between us for adventurer’s rations.

“Anything cheaper? I’m thinking round about the one gold piece mark.”

“Big spender eh? I have this picture of a cat, painted by a cat.” He produces a small framed oil painting of a cat looking displeased.

“That’s a bit impractical maybe. We’re about to head out on a quest, wouldn’t want to carry it around.”

“What about anything peacock related?” Veppi asks. “She likes peacocks.”

“Ah. A follower of Androlphus no doubt? I have this ocelli earring, styled from the eye spots on a peacock feather?”

“That’s perfect. We’ll take it.”

“Two gold for the earring.”

I hesitate, trying to weigh up whether I want to blow my entire budget on a single gift.

“If you’re a little light on coin, have you anything to barter perhaps?” Curnig asks.

“I do! I have this ring.” I take it from my pocket and place it on the counter. “It’s a ring of rewilding, a quest reward. We know what it’s called, but we’re not sure what it does exactly.”

Curnig nods. “Common, but only useful to druids. It boosts certain regrowth spells a small amount. I’ll give you two gold pieces for it. Is there anything else you need?”

“Four enduring rations.”

“I recommend the hardtack. Good on its own. Good in a stew if you happen to catch anything on the road that’s worth putting in a pot. We bake ours with rosemary, makes quite the difference.”

“Sounds great.”

“They’re a dex a piece.”

I’ve learned from my many trips to the bar that a dex is ten bits. I try and do the math in my head, but fail.

“So you owe me four dex,” he says, like he’s talking to an idiot.

I nod and hand over the coins, and leave the shop feeling pleased with myself for getting the supplies we needed, plus a bonus for Andraya.

Outside, my two traveling companions have finished arguing with each other, and are now standing around in silence, looking annoyed. I’m not sure I’ll be able to sort this, even with the help of my generous gift.

“I got the supplies,” I say. “Hardtack for the journey, baked with a hint of rosemary.”

“Good work Doon,” says Misty. “That will come in handy if I’ve run out of spells before we take a rest. Nothing worse than setting up camp after a long day’s adventuring, only to find I don’t have enough magic in me to conjure a meal.”

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“I got something for you Andraya,” I say, trying to get her to turn around and talk to me. “Something shiny.”

“Don’t belittle me slayer,” she says. “This isn’t a mood so easily lightened by glittering trifles.”

I pull out the little black satin pouch and hand it over. She takes it and tries to fight off a smile from breaking out on her face. “Hmm,” she says as she opens the drawstrings. “I have very specific tastes.”

“Well if you don’t like it, we’re standing right outside the store. I can take it back and get a refund.”

She takes out the earring and there’s that smile she was denying. “OK. Well, I’ll admit that this is actually something I would wear. I’m still angry with you both for agreeing to waste a day of my time. Someone else could have helped that spirit. I don’t understand why getting him to his final resting place had to be our burden. But this is thoughtful of you Doon. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“What did you get for me?” Mistle asks with an expectant look on her face.

“Er…”

“I’m just kidding Doon. We have everything we need, so let’s head out.”

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We’ve taken the south western road out of town this time, which follows the path of the River Grik. We should reach the edge of Grik Marsh by around lunchtime, which we’ll skirt around to the north to find the predominantly goblin settlement of Orvar’s Cross.

As we stroll along I’ve got “on the road again,” by Canned Heat going around my head. I find myself missing the Spotify playlists on my phone. We’re doing a lot of walking and it would be nice to have some music to listen to. I could ask Andraya to sing us something, but she’s still a touch disgruntled. I don’t want to push it. I resort to some tuneless whistling instead, which earns me an annoyed over the shoulder glance from the priest.

“Anyone want to play ‘what am I?’” Veppi asks. He’s put his pipe away for a while.

“Sure, why not.” I say. “What’s that?”

“Well, I think of a thing. For example, a sunflower. You then have to ask me questions to discover what I am. I can only answer with 'yay' or 'nay'.”

“Right, like twenty questions?”

“You only get ten,” says Misty. “I’ll play too.”

“Alright. I’ve thought of something. You ask first Doon.”

“Are you an animal?”

“Nay.”

“My turn,” says Misty. “Are you a sunflower?”

“Nay. That would be too easy Mistle wouldn’t it?”

“Andraya,” I say. “Do you want a go?”

“Fuck off Doon.”

“OK. I’ll go again then. Are you something magical?”

“Yay.”

Misty claps. “Are you alive?”

“Yay.”

“So you’re something magical and you’re alive, but you’re not an animal. This is me summarising the answers so far to myself, by the way. It wasn’t one of my questions. Are you a monster? Or would that count as an animal?”

“Yay and nay. You had two goes then Doon, so now you’ve got four left. Your turn Misty.”

“Right,” she says. “Let me think. Do you have wings?”

“Nay.”

“Do you have a sort of spiral horn thing sticking out of your head?”

“Nay. Two left.”

“Do you have four legs?”

“Nay. You’ve got the last question Doon. You may as well take a guess.”

“Are you a wocky?”

“Nay. They’ve got wings. And four legs. I’m a Deepwater Pike. I keep seeing them over in the river there. Big buggers. Glad we don’t have to swim across to the other side.”

“Deepwater Pike? Doesn’t that count as an animal?” Misty asks.

“Maybe. Anyway. I won. Do you want play again?”

“Not really," I say. "Thinking about it, I only know the names of about seven or eight things in this world. Kind of puts me at a disadvantage.”

“What’s your lore stat Doon?” Misty asks.

“I don’t think I’ve got one. I don’t remember seeing it.”

“In that case, it will be zero,” Misty explains. “Along with your glory. These are secondary stats, and they'll appear on a separate screen in your thy. You should have bought a copy of Juno’s Flora and Fauna of Istoria when you were in Curnig’s Supplies, that would have given your lore a head start.”

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We reach the marsh’s edge around lunchtime and the road forks. There’s a wooden signpost that reads:

Northeast - Brackwater

Northwest - Orvar’s Cross

South - Chapel Spinney

Andraya takes the time to scowl at it, and grumble about how we should be continuing south to make progress with the Pen of Belete.

“It will only take us an extra day,” Misty says with a smile. “Besides, it will feel good to do some good. I promise.”

“Hmm.” Andraya doesn't sound convinced. “Doing good always feels better when it comes with a reward,” she says.

We settle down by the bank of the river. I make a small fire to boil water for tea, while Misty conjures us some steamed buns. I’m not sure what’s in them, but they’re delicious. Some kind of red bean paste maybe?

“What’s in these Misty?” I ask. “They’re really good.”

“Crimson beetle paste. With just a bit of sugar.”

I wish I hadn’t asked.

As we sit munching on the insect buns, Veppi points out some unusual ripples in the river that start getting bigger. There’s a large shadow in the water that’s rising to the surface. I think it might be one of the pike that Veppi mentioned, but it’s heading at speed towards where we’re sitting. A shape explodes out of the water, a figure springing up from the river and landing on the bank a few feet away from us. It’s a half fish, half human creature. It’s like a reverse merman, in that its scaly green body is human-like, while its head looks like that of a fish. It’s holding a barbed spear with several species of what look like trout skewered on the end of it, with scales that have a rainbow shine to them.

“A gillyman,” says Veppi. “Pretty sure I used to hang out with these guys. They’re good folk I recall. Usually.”

“Midday tidings apsarion,” he says nodding to Veppi. His voice sounds like a burbling stream. It couldn’t suit him more.

“Midday to you too good folk,” he nods. “Some rainbow trout to go with those buns? Very fresh. Very good price from Gillyman Rukeri.”

“We’re fine thanks,” says Andraya.

“How much?” Misty asks.

“A dex a piece. Or this whole half dozen for four dex.”

“I’ll take two,” says Misty, handing over coins from her pouch.

“Very good. The two plumpest for you.”

“Thanks,” says Misty, taking the fish. “Won’t take but a few minutes to roast them over the fire here.”

“No one else?” says the Gillyman. We all shake our heads. “Well back to the water ways then. Good bye people. And honour to your father apsarion.”

With that he dives back into the river and we swims away, the ripple following him downstream.

“Honour to your father?” says Andraya, a hint of suspicion in her voice. “What does that mean, otter?”

“Buggered if I know,” says Veppi. “But maybe some of that roasted trout will help jog my memory.”