Ozzy thought it best to make a shopping list. When you have to walk ten or twenty miles to buy things, it would surely suck to forget something. Might as well add in hot peppers for the sausage now that he had a helper. The first stop was at the tavern.

He and Suzette had just been tossing their bits of copper and silver into an old clay pitcher in their room; he'd need some money in town and up at the keep. He grabbed a handful of the coins and as he stuffed them in a pocket of his apron, noticed it was all gold. In fact, the pitcher was almost full of gold coins. "Holy shit, guess the dungeon thing is working out." He rummaged around in the bottom and found some copper and silver that went into another pocket. No sense in flashing gold when buying cheap stuff.

He found a big wooden bucket and some mops at the general store. Barrels were easy to come by from the local cooper, if a little pricey. But barrels took a lot of work and he didn't begrudge the man his labor. As for the rest, he'd thought he'd ask Granya which farms provided the best produce for her kitchen. She was happy to give him directions and then added a dozen items to his shopping list. If Ozzy was going shopping then she had stuff for him to pick up. He decided he should take a wagon and remembered Matthias had a small wagon in the livery stable. Betty came in while he was writing down what Granya needed and gave her input. The list grew to a second page. He skipped the small wagon and borrowed one of the heavy-duty wagons.

Granya had explained that the farms around Sedgewick tended to be small family affairs, with high fences. It was just too difficult to keep a big farm going in the area. The trees and sedges grew quickly and had to be cleared every spring. Plus, the sedgebeasts ate anything that grew and broke fences to get to it. The larger farms had the legion to protect them, no hordes of mutant cattle, and a ready buyer for all they produced. That explained the fences the workers were building around the fields of groats and wheat. Luckily, there was no lack of rocks for building.

As he rounded the first corner, two smiling bandits stepped into the road. "Hold up there just a moment sir. We represent the Sedgewick Road Improvement crew. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to pay a toll, which of course depends on your cargo."

"I'm hauling MEAT!" Ozzy pulled his two cleavers that hung from either side of his apron. "I need a cargo of MEAT! and you asshats are going to be first. Get into my meat wagon!"

The two bandits were taken aback. This wasn't how things went as far as they knew. This person wasn't acting like a farmer delivering his turnips and more obviously, didn't understand what he should do when being held up. The cleavers were a clue, however. "Shit! Run! That ain't no farmer, it's the butcher!"

More bandits took off from the bushes, glad they had more distance. Ozzy ran 30 feet then stopped and roared, waving his cleavers in the air before he picked up the traces and started walking up the road, chuckling.

A new rule was instituted at the bandit camp that night: "Don't annoy the butcher."

The goblins already seemed to know that rule. Ben had told Ozzy about the goblins, their liking of Red Wizard Whiskey, and the deals they had worked out. He easily saw the little turn off into the brush heading up to the camp and wasn't surprised when a few of them wandered out into the road. The four goblin warriors looked like they were about to charge him when a larger one yelled out and they all paused.

The biggest goblin took a look at Ozzy and came to a decision. "Greetings large one. Would you be butcherozzy, friend to courierben?" When Ozzy said yes, the goblin looked with a sneer at the four warriors in his group. "What are rules?" The goblins kicked the dirt, stared at the clouds, and generally tried to look innocent. One finally spoke up. "Don't eat friends. Don't attack the big ones wandering by on their own." The big goblin nodded. "Add a new rule: Don't attack people who will turn you into sausages. Now git." The four ran off.

"Apologies, butcherozzy. Young ones think last, charge first. They will not bother you again. Please greet courierben when you see him and perhaps mention that the Chief asks after him, and the tribe is out of the drink of the Red Wizard."

"No harm done. And tell you what, I'll pick you up a couple of cases of Red Wizard if they have it. I'll be back this way later."

The goblin bowed. "Spoken like a true friend of courierben. The tribe thanks you. We will await your return." With that he scampered up the road to the camp. Ozzy started again on his trek and thought about the oddness that you encountered in Genesis sometimes. Both the goblins and bandits seemed like low-level encounters at first, but the people acted real. They had odd goals like drinking and listening to the serialized adventures of fictitious women, but when you got down to it, didn't everyone? Here he was on a quest to make a better pit so he could smoke some bacon. He wished he had the time to talk to them more. Maybe he'd hang out a bit on the way back?

Rowan Keep came up fast. Ozzy didn't get tired and even at a fast walk it only took a couple of hours. A bit of talk at the gate and a couple of soldiers he'd met vouched for him. He rolled the wagon into the merchant area in the back and found a spot to park it. The place was really busy! Ben had told him there were usually a half dozen merchant tents set up, but Ozzy could see at least a couple of dozen now, and what looked like a farmer’s market. There were a lot of adventurers hanging around. Questing must be pretty good around here.

The vegetables were easy to get ahold of. He had to sort of guess about how many bushels made a whole heap since the merchants didn't know, but better too much than too little. Sugar was also easy to get. Joe had given him an idea on spices. He bought out two merchants of all their oregano, paprika, chilis, dried peppers, pepper seeds, basil, cilantro, and ginger. They had a lot of other spices that Granya might like. When they saw he was packing gold they put their heads together and made him a deal on everything.

"Sir, on my sainted grandmother's grave, I swear this is an excellent deal. Yes, that's quite a few gold coins, but you are paying just a bit over the cost my cousin and I paid for them. In addition, we'll be back in a few weeks with a larger stock and will pay special attention to your needs."

Ozzy didn't know what the stuff should cost. But he got the feeling he was overpaying. Dickering was interrupted as the Centurion that Ozzy had met before walked up. "Ozzy! And how is my favorite butcher? You look larger than ever! Sure we can't convince you to get a contract with the Legion?" Ozzy shook his hand and smiled, but declined. "Nope, not for a few years. Maybe when my contract with ACME is up. Might be fun to sign up and see more of the world."

"Keep us in mind, we can always use good men. Until then I'll have to just enjoy your fine smoked meats. I see you're stocking up. I'm sure our local merchants are giving you a good deal?" His stare at the two cousins seemed to say 'You better be giving him a good deal!'

"They're treating me just fine. I'm cleaning them out so they can make a trip home and bring me more. I think we'd agreed on a price of about five gold less than was on the table?" The two merchants glumly nodded. Ozzy decided to make the deal a little better for them, to encourage them to bring back the goods he needed. "How about you keep the five, and count it against my next order? Use it to find me some really hot peppers. Hotter the better." The cousins smiled at this, they shook hands and the deal was done. That knocked a bunch of items off of his list.

one whole heap each of:

  onions

  garlic

  black peppercorns

brown sugar or honey

two whole heaps of tomatoes

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Soy sauce he found at another merchant who had a small cask of it for cooking some of the food he served in his tent. Ozzy bought it from him only after he also prepaid for two large barrels to be delivered in a couple of weeks. That left just left honey on his list, and some hot peppers for the sausages. Heading back to his wagon, he found a couple of people looking it over and one had already stolen a tomato and was eating it.

"Paws off my stuff. Go buy your own lunch if you're hungry."

One man backed off raising his hands. "No worries farmer, don't need no trouble with the locals." He was wearing some decent chainmail and packing a mace with a shield on his back. The tomato thief, Falkian Brightblaze, was wearing a pair of fancy yellow boots and an orange robe that didn't quite cover his knobby knees. From the staff in his other hand, and pointy red hat, Ozzy assumed he was a wizard.

"There will be no trouble here. I'm sure this farmer knows that brawn is no match for one schooled in the mystic arts. I forgive you for your slights on my honor and will let you off with unsinged eyebrows. But it will cost you another tomato. Thank whatever pitiful gods you worship that Falkian is a merciful wizard." He reached for another tomato and then walked off.

Ozzy set down his cask of sauce and checked to see if his other goods were still there. He flipped a tarp over the wagon and tied things down. With his wagon taken care of he walked casually after the mage who was heading toward a group of adventurers near what looked to be a new tavern, set up under a tent.

"OY! Falkfart Tomato Thief. Yeah, YOU! asshole. You don't get to steal my stuff and walk away."

Ozzy's yelled insults stopped the mage in his tracks and he turned around with his face red and his eyes starting to glow. "You dare insult me? That counts as a challenge to a duel. I'll burn you to a cinder for that."

A small crowd came out of the tavern tent. One of the people tried to calm the mage down. "Easy there Falk, Brandon said to keep things cool for another couple of days. How about I pay for the tomatoes you took and then I'll buy you a beer?"

"Nay! This lout needs to learn his manners." Falkian raised his staff. "Burst of Flame. Suck a hundred fire damage tomato farmer."

A stream of flames roared out towards Ozzy who paused as they hit him, a look of intense concentration on his face. The fire engulfed him and then faded away. The butcher was unhurt, unsigned, and unimpressed. The crowd was confused.

"Well, Fartmage, I was willing to take a couple of copper in payment. But now it might be some teeth."

"Burst of Flame!"

"Incendiary Arrow!"

"Mystic Bolts of Burning x5!!"

Falkian let loose with a series of spells. His face got redder and redder as the large man just laughed louder at him and insulted him. This guy should be dead by now! Fire spells hit hard unless you had mystic defenses like a Mage or thick armor like a Paladin or Warrior. This guy was wearing a stupid leather apron! Burst of Flame did 100 damage, Incendiary Arrow 75 damage, and Mystic Bolts hit him five times for 50 each! This guy should have taken over 500 damage by now. And he didn't look singed!

People were laughing at Falkian now, and he hated that. This was his reputation getting wrecked. Screw it, he had one more spell. He hated using it. It was an area of effect and used a ton of mana, but if anything could kill this guy it was Burning Strike of Daemonic Fire. As soon as the spell was cast, Falkian knew he'd overdone it again. He'd used up all his mana. The spell just seemed to take and take until he had nothing left. He felt like he was going to faint and his legs were weak. He covered for this by leaning on his staff and watching the flames come down and strike the idiot who made such a fuss over a couple of tomatoes.

Your Burning Strike of Daemonic Fire has struck a target for 500 points of damage.

Your spell was resisted! This creature has dark power in its soul and is less affected by your spell. Maybe next time try burning someone who fights for the Light instead? If you have a next time...

Centurion Marcus Abraitus arrived just as the mage let loose with his spell. This many adventurers around the keep were causing Marcus daily headaches. He didn't care if they beat each other to death, but he drew the line at spells being cast. And fire spells? Even worse. Seeing a column of black flame appear and strike some poor soul made his blood boil. That mage was getting chained in the dungeon for a week and then sent to the capital for punishment.

[You have been struck by Burning Strike of Daemonic Fire and take 500 points of damage.

You have resisted this spell! Your corrupted soul gives you the power to resist this magic. You take only 250 points of damage.

Your apron made from naturally resistant sedgebeast hide absorbs 10 points of fire damage.

Your gloves made from naturally resistant sedgebeast hide absorb 10 points of fire damage.

Your pants made from naturally resistant sedgebeast hide absorb 10 points of fire damage.

Your boots made from naturally resistant sedgebeast hide absorb 10 points of fire damage.

Your skill: Resist Fire (active) removes 150 points of fire damage.

You have taken: 60 points of damage.]

"Ouch...sort of stings."

Ozzy patted out a patch of flames on his shirt and glared at the trembling mage. Two steps took him to the man and he grabbed a handful of robes and lifted him off the ground. The next second the whimpering mage was hit by a huge fist. Teeth and blood went flying, splattering those people closest to the fight.

[You have hit Falkian Brightblaze for 135 points of damage.

Your strike to the head was not resisted or dodged, resulting in a critical hit. 2x normal damage.

Your opponent was not resisting, and could not escape your grasp. Your skill Slaughter has resulted in 3x damage.

You have dealt 810 points of damage to Falkian Brightblaze.

You have slain Falkian Brightblaze

For killing a level 5 player in a challenge, you gained 500 experience points in Slaughter and 500 experience in STR.

Ouch! Needless to say, you did more than knock out a few teeth. You knocked out ALL of his teeth.]

"Oops, sometimes just don't know my own strength. Sorry, I broke someone’s asshole-tomato-stealing-wizard." Ozzy tossed the body to the ground and waited to see if anyone else was going to be in trouble. When most of them just laughed and went back to drinking he shrugged and picked up the staff Falkian had dropped on the ground. Maybe Suzette would like it.

Marcus strode forward and looked at the dead mage. "Gustavus, if that man manages to walk out of death's halls, he owes me a week in the stocks or a five-gold-piece fine. That goes for anyone else tossing spells around."

"Are you all right, Ozzy?"

Ozzy tossed the staff in his wagon. "A bit singed, but it just stings some. I'm not hurt. You get a pretty thick skin working a bar-b-que pit. And I don't think he was a very good wizard. No harm done. Well, none to me. Time to head home though, don't want any more trouble. Just need to get a couple of cases of whiskey and I'll get on my way."

The Centurion shook his head as he watched the butcher head down the road for home. Falkian Brightblaze might have been an asshole, but he was also a Level 5 Firemage. And it looked like he cut loose with everything he had. The ground where the last spell had hit only showed blackened rock. The grass and earth had been vaporized.

Gustavus spoke up. "I believe sir, that that was the most I've ever seen a man pay for a tomato."