We heaped whatever of our spoils we weren't already wearing up on the counter so Dinkum could tally the bill. After she’d dumped everything into place Gig turned to keeping herself amused by trying out various heroic poses with her new axes while I settled up with Dinkum.

The shopkeep surveyed the array of goods before him, garnering a raise of one of his impressively bushy brows. Stiffing at this and that while scribbling notes in a ledger.

“Could I get a point each worth of gold and silver while we’re at it.” I requested of Dinkum and he responded with a distracted nod and a murmur of “Certainly.” before pulling out a second ledger to record the exchange.

All told, I parted ways with eighteen points as I shook hands with the merchant and watched my total tick down to a still respectable sixty two. Almost three quarters of that went towards the items that had been marked as magical, the rest covering the sheer volume of oddments I’d gathered for Gig and myself.

“Quite the eclectic mix you’ve picked up today.” He remarked by way of small talk while stacking up the mixed coinage I’d asked for on the counter, before adding “Find everything you were looking for?”

Clearly pleased with the surprisingly lucrative business he’d gotten from me. That and the fact he’d been ravenously devouring The Secret History of Millery, with evident enjoyment, for the remainder of the time Gig and I had been digging for Skill Manuals also seemed to have had placed me in a positive light as far as the shopkeep was concerned. There's nothing quite like sharing a good book for making friends.

I shared Dinkum’s buoyant mood. The pleasantly distracting normalcy of the last few hours went a long way to soothing my frayed edges. It’d been a hell of a few weeks and while I’d like to think I’d been doing an admirable job keeping a lid on the entire shit storm, I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t been taking a toll. It was starting to feel like I’d really be able to get my feet under me at last and I very much liked that feeling.

Stowing the little stacks of gold and silver coinage away in my near bursting pack, I made sure to keep them seprate from the two fucking copper lest thier shittyness rub off on them. Can never be too careful. Then waved Gig over to grab the rest of the loose gear for me.

“Ha, honestly this has probably been the most comprehensive shopping spree of my life. You really have everything a guy could ask.” I answered casually, enjoying a lazy scan of the shelves. Taking a moment to delight in the progress I was able to make with a visit to a single out of the way shop in a single fringe settlement, before adding “Except maybe a spawner of my own to call home.” as an off handed joke.

It got a soft chuckle out of the Goblin. “Oh? You’re in the market for a spawner? Should’ve said so sooner. I keep those beauties safe and sound behind the counter.” Dinkum said with a sly smile and hint of pride in his voice, patting the countertop possessively.

My attention locked onto the goblin and my tail twitched.

“Say what now?”

~~~~~

Dinkum pulled a keyring on a chain out of an inner pocket and I heard the clicks and clunks of substantial locks opening as he went about the process of retrieving his prized wares.

All I could think as I took in the objects placed before me on the counter top was ‘Best Junk shop ever!’

The first was a beautifully faceted crystalline spike topped with a nodule of jagged protrusions. The spike refracted the lantern light of the shop into a prismatic sheen I’d yet to see from any of the spawners I’d encountered. It also had a substantially weighty air to it, the whole thing being about as long as I was tip to tail. I eagerly gave it a once over with [Delver’s Insight].

[ Dungeon Item: Way Marker ]

[ Type: Spawner ] [ Administrator: Ferris Dinkum ]

[ Restriction Checks: Variable ] [ Aetheric Reservoir: 0% ]

[ Functions as a relocatable spawn point for up to six individuals. ]

Taking note of my keen interest with a pleased little smirk Dinkum asked “Seen one of these before?” I just shook my head, at which his smirk bloomed to a broad smile as he entered full salesmen mode. “This is a Way Marker, a genuine Dungeon generated item, one in excellent condition I might add. Charge one up with a few Dungeon Points and it will act as your spawner when anchored. See the spike? The Marker’s owner can push that into solid stone as if it was clay, secure as can be. And well it sadly doesn’t grant access to the full interface or trading hub it is still without a doubt an essential item for any true wanderer to have with them well exploring the Dungeon’s untold wonders.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I had to give it to him, the Goblin shopkeep had a hell of a sales pitch. Though I somewhat doubted my garbled status in the Dungeon would allow me to make use of something so straightforward and helpful sounding. I was still very interested in trying it however. Maybe if I offered up a couple of Points to charge it he’d let me give it ago. Though on second thought, with Dinkum as its admin that might end up clueing him on to my title. Honestly I had been lucky making my purchases didn’t set the Dungeon to shouting my secrets from the rooftops. Really shoulda checked with Gig about that, sloppy mistake in retrospect. Clearing my head of ‘might of beans’ I returned my focus back on what Dinkum was saying.

“I picked this one up from a Pathfinder who had to settle some substantial gambling debts he’d accrued in a hurry. As he adamantly wished to avoid having all his limbs broken before being tossed in a hole to die of thirst. Repeatedly. As I said before, I do not recommend gambling as an endeavour. Nonetheless, I think it goes without saying I was able to negotiate a truly excellent price for it and am willing to pass those savings along to you. It can be yours for the absolute steal of three hundred and seventy five Points.”

My entire body tensed involuntarily when I heard the price. That was the equivalent of over twenty six hundred gold pieces. A fortune by any count. Even if it had been exactly what I needed, it was so ridiculously beyond my means right now I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Dinkum’s eyes twinkled with merriment upon seeing my reaction. It made me wonder how often he put on that little song and dance. He responded to my shocked silence with a faint look of mock disappointment and stated “Not what you’re looking for today? A shame.” The cheeky bastard.

“No worries though.” He said, dropping the act. “While I can only guess at the… particulars of your situation.” Pausing to raise a bushy brow pointedly toward my ratty self. “This one might be of some interest to you.” gesturing to the less impressive looking of the two items he’d laid out.

It resembled a much abused, and often repaired iron lantern. At its centre was the familiar type of spawner crystal I’d grown accustomed to seeing; only a large section had been lost at some point with obvious cracks spidering out from where it had broken away. It didn’t look like much, but I wasn’t one to put much stock in looks. I was happy to reserve judgement until I heard what [ Delver’s Insight ] and Dinkum had to say.

[ Dungeon Item: Mob Beacon ]

[ Type: Spawner ] [ Administrator: Ferris Dinkum ]

[ Restriction Checks: Unassigned ] [ Aetheric Reservoir: 0% ]

[ A portable beacon that redirects a limited number of mob spawns to its location.]

[Warming: Item capacities significantly reduced due to structural damage.]

This one was already looking a great deal more promising to my eyes, and I gave Dinkum my complete attention as he began a new much more casual sales pitch.

“This here, if you’re unfamiliar, is a mob beacon. One in this case mounted inside a lantern frame for convenience's sake. They’re useful for boosting the overall spawn rates, controlling mob distribution in a Delving Vault, or bringing in new types to spice up the mix. Top it up with a few points, scan an example of the mod type you’d like to pull in, then stand back to let it do its thing.”

That sounded like it had a chance to be exactly what I needed. If it could register my [Deceased Adventure] title when doing it scan it might actually work for me!

“As you can see this one had abit of an accident, I was told a Troll stepped on it. It still works fine however, its respawn rate is just a touch sluggish, its total active mob cap is somewhat lower, and it can’t really handle anything over level three now. Also it doesn’t hold as much of a charge as it used to, so it needs a bit more supervision to keep it going, but on a positive note it hasn’t lost any of its cost efficiency.”

None of that seemed remotely like a deal breaker to me. Spawn rates and population limits wouldn’t matter if I was the only one using the thing.

“I acquired this one in hopes of selling it along to the Fighting Pits to bolster their mob stocks, however they were less than enthusiastic once I explained the restrictions. It’s been collecting dust for a while now so I’d be willing to part with it for one twenty five. Which I will add is barely above costs, so don’t even bother trying to haggle me down.” The Goblin finished up with a “So, whatcha think?”

I wanted it. Badly. Actually, scratch that. I NEEDED it. Just as I was gearing up to start wheeling and dealing my tiny ratty heart out to get my grabbies on it, when a deep voice boomed from outside the shop.

“GIGGERA! Get your ass down here or I swear by the Empty Throne you will regret it!”

Dinkum immediately turned his gaze towards Gig and remarked “Ah, it would seem Big Belly is less than pleased with you today.” As what remained of his salesman's facade fell away to reveal what could only be described as a shit eating grin. Clearly delighted at the thought of whatever mischief Gig might have gotten up to this time.

Gig had reflexively shrunk in on herself and with the most sheepish expression I’d yet seen on her face, just managed to squeak out “Not my fault.” by way of protest and explanation both.

The shopkeepers' amused grin only widened.