Dungeon [place][dimension]: a dungeon is the colloquial term for an area of warped space with a specific aura signature. While the exact mechanics behind dungeon formation is not currently known, they are believed to be the results of high mana. In areas of high ambient mana the fabric of reality can sometimes distort and fold in on itself. Mana will then begin to collect more rapidly in the fold and crystalize. This crystalline mana then generates a dungeon around itself, shaping the fold to align with its aura signature. Dungeons can have a variety of aura signatures, usually aligned with the elements around them. Common aura signatures include fire, water, earth, and air.

  “No, that's it Sugar,” Merrie Carrie said, pushing her glass away and sticking her tongue out. “I'm done. You're a hell of a man, but whoever sold you on this idea was a fool”

  “It was a college student,” Joe groaned from his own seat, head lolled back as he stared up at the ceiling. His stomach gave an unhappy grumble that made him groan.

  Merrie Carrie gave him an incredulous look,“and you listened to their hair brained ideas?”

  “I thought it might make us some money.” Joe groaned again, he rolled his head forward and glared at the collection of half-finished drinks arrayed in front of them. This was the third time this week that the two of them had gotten together to see if they could find some sort of flavor combination that would make the chalky stamina potions more palatable. So far it had been an unmitigated failure. Merrie Carrie had initially been enthusiastic with the idea of expanding her drink selection, but as failure mounted onto failure, even her seemingly boundless energy bottomed out. The problem was that the stamina potion itself acted like a reverse tofu, blunting the flavor of anything that it was added to and replacing the fruits natural flavors with its own bitter essence.By the time they'd added enough extras to counterbalance the effect, it no longer gave a stamina boost.

  At least the company had been pleasant.Merrie Carrie had kept the flirtatious, ribbing to a minimum. Instead she regaled Joe with stories of the misadventures she and Moira had gotten into in their youth. Moira hadn’t been joking about her mother's grey hairs. It sounded like the two of them had been quite the terror in their time. The mysterious Minx cropped up a few times, apparently being someone the two of them grew up with. While Moira had been rather tight-lipped about him, Merrie Carrie had no such compunction. She called him everything from a snake to several strings of expletives Joe was surprised didn't peel the varnish off the table.

  From the colorful description she painted, Minx sounded like the sort of bigger picture person whose pictures were all drawn in crayon.

  “I think at this point Sugar we can assume the answer is a solid no.” Merrie Carrie grimaced.

  “I think you're right,” Joe heaved a sigh and pushed himself out from under the table. “Need to help with the dishes? I've probably had a full potion and it’s gonna be a while before I settle down.”

  Merrie Carrie waved him off with a smile “nah you sweet little thing I got this. If you need something to wear you out why don't you mosey over to Moiras?” She gave Joe a wink that left him in no doubt of what she had in mind. Joe put his hands on his hips and did his best to look stern. Merrie Carrie threw up her hands in mock surrender, “okay, okay, fine, fine, but have you talked to her in the last week?”

  “No,” Joe admitted sheepishly.

  Now it was Merrie Carrie’s turn to give him a stern look. “An’ why the hell not?”

  “I've been busy,” Joe protested.

  Merrie Carrie set the dishes aside and put her hands on her hips. “Sugar You should never be too busy to spend time with a beautiful woman.”

  “But I have a shop to run.”

  “Is that all you want to do with your life?”

  Joe couldn't really argue with her there. Getting him out of his rut was the entire goal of being here. “It's just-” Joe shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His obvious discomfort caused Merrie Carrie to soften a little. “I don't want to seem desperate. You know, I really have no idea what I'm doing.”

  Mary Carrie covered her mouth with her hand cupping the elbow of that arm with her opposite hand. If Joe didn't know any better, he'd swear she was suppressing a smile. “Sugar did you ever stop to wonder what might happen if both of ya didn't wanna look desperate?” Merrie Carrie moved her hand from in front of her mouth and tucked it under her chin. Raising both eyebrows and an expectant expression. “Cause I gotta tell ya, you're both too damn old for these coy schoolyard head games.”

  Joe opened his mouth.Joe close's mouthJoe decided it was time to go home.

  <><><>

  Joe did not, in fact, go home. His feet itched to go for a walk, and he let them pick the direction. His eyes drifted aimlessly over the surrounding buildings, watching them grow darker as night settled in. Am I really just falling back into old patterns? He mused as one by one, the interior of the braziers at the top of the streetlights began to steadily grow brighter and brighter. When they reached the same brightness as floodlight, a tennis ball sized mote of light raised itself up out of the depths of the braziers with a soft “voop” noise. No matter how often Joe saw it happen, he loved watching the streetlights turn on. Tonight though, he looked away and continued his walk.

  The old mechanical movement of foot in front of foot felt like a comforting trap. Joe knew that if he just let them be his feet would find him a new rut to walk in every night for the rest of his life. He wasn't at all surprised though when he looked up and found himself outside of Fairchild Foundries. Lights were on in the second floor, but the forge below was dark. The tables that were wedged between the support pillars for the second floor were bare, but a cursory examination underneath them revealed a set of crates that Joe was sure held the merchandise to go on them. Crime in Academyway must be pretty light Joe thought to himself as he turned to walk away. As he did so he heard the soft click of a door opening at the top of the stairwell. Before he could go any further, Moira came around the bend in the stairwell lugging a large wicker basket.

  Her face was illuminated in soft golden light from the still open doorway as she peered down into the darkness, squinting to try and get her night vision to kick in. “Hello? Is someone there? We’re closed for the evening.”

  Joe cleared his throat and waved, “Sorry Moira, it’s just me. I’m off for an evening walk.”

  “Oh, Mr.Alderbright you scared the-” Moira quickly glanced up the stairwell “daylights out of me.” She descended the last few steps and negotiated the tight squeeze between the last pillar and table. There was just enough of a gap there that a person could get through, but lugging the basket made it awkward going. Joe reached out and took it automatically as Moira wiggled her way through the gap. By the light of the streetlamps Joe could see the contents of said basket was a hodgepodge mess of food scraps, waste paper and bottles.

  “Taking the garbage out?” he asked as she popped out onto the street, the table being knocked only slightly askew by one of her generous hips.

  “Yeah, Gretta cooked so I clean up.” She held out her hands to take the basket, but Joe did not comply. He hadn’t consciously meant to come here, but here he was and he couldn’t get what Merrie Carrie had said out of his mind. To Moira he smiled and hiked the basket up a little higher into his arms.

  “Well I got nowhere in particular to be right now. Where’s the bin?” Once again there seemed to be a conflict going on in Moira’s eyes, some battle over what was best to do at this point. Eventually she gave him a tired smile and just led the way around the side of the building.

  “How chivalrous of you. Are you going to be my rescuer from all refuse related ordeals?” She teased. Fairchild Foundry didn’t seem to have a proper alley behind it like Joe’s block did. Instead there was just a set of five identical lidded wooden boxes lined up behind the building facing out onto an open field. Moira opened the closest as Joe came to a decision and threw caution to the wind. Damnit Merrie Carrie, you’d better not be stringing me along.

  “If you’ll have me.” Joe finally answered, tipping the basket and giving it a good shake to dislodge everything. Moira made a small noise in her throat, halfway between a grunt and a squeak. Joe couldn’t bring himself to look at her, so he made a show of checking the basket to make sure it was empty.

  “Oh?” Moira’s response had an air of forced casualness to it. When Joe did look up it was to find her staring intently at him. Even in the dim light that filtered around the shadow of the building, her eyes and hair almost glowed in their brilliance. Gods she’s pretty. Joe cleared his throat and soldiers onward. He would have victory or defeat, but tonight this whole thing would be done. He let out a small sigh before continuing.

  “Moira, look I’m not the best at explaining myself. Would you come walk with me for a little bit? I’d rather not have this talk standing next to a pile of garbage.”

  Moira pursed her lips before nodding. “I’ll see if Gretta will watch Sarah for a few minutes, but I can only give you that; a few minutes. It’s almost her bedtime.” Joe nodded and they went back around the corner, and he waited as Moira ascended the stairs back into her home. While it was muffled, Joe was fairly certain he thought he heard a deeper voice cheer a minute or two later followed shortly by Moira descending the stairs shaking her head. She’d grabbed a crochet shawl and some heavier boots that looked like they could kick holes in cinder block walls. “Alright Mr.Alderbright, where are we walking to?” Her whole body seemed coiled tightly like a spring. Once again Joe found himself hoping he’d not overplayed his hand by doing this, but backing down now wasn’t an option.

  Come on Joe, do something to put her mind at ease.“Just around, I wanted to talk to you about some stuff and I have to be quick about it.” Joe gave her a playful smile. “I only have a few minutes.” He hoped calling back to her ultimatum would be just playful enough to put the clearly tense woman at ease. Thankfully the gambit seemed to work as her shoulders relaxed a little and she gave him a smile back.

  “Alright then Mr.Salesman, what did you want to talk about?” It actually took them going the rest of the way down the block and around to the next street before Joe could get his thoughts in order to respond. In the end he just went with blunt honesty.

  “I’m sorry if this is a bit forward of me, but we’re both nearly forty and there’s just some things I don’t have time for anymore.” She raised an eyebrow at him but Joe continued before she could interject. “ I like you Moira, I enjoyed our lunch together and even though I know we haven’t spent, well really any time together you’re very smile makes me feel ways I didn’t think I was still capable of.”

  Whatever Moira had thought he was going to say, this had clearly not been it. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before finally sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth and looking away from him. “ Some things you don’t have time for? So does that include romance then loverboy?” There was definitely some feeling behind the barb on that one, Joe wasn’t sure if it was actually at him though or the memory of Sarah’s father. Careful Joe, she’s just as hurt as you are. Don’t fuck this up now.

  Joe shook his head and went on, not waiting for her to look back at him. If she felt more comfortable looking off into the distance, then that was ok with him. “No, I’ve got plenty of romance in my heart. What I don’t have is time to give my heart to someone I’m not sure is really interested in having it. I want to spend more time with you, with Sarah too. I want to see where it goes and if maybe-” Now it was him who wanted to look in any other direction than at the person he was talking to. Right when he’d needed it the most, his tongue had given out on him. Panic welled up in his mind as he floundered around for some way of ending that sentence that didn’t make him feel like he was about to scare her off. “ Maybe we’d be good for each other.” He finally finished.

  They walked in silence for a few more minutes. Neither looking at the other as both processed what had been said. Whelp, there you go. You’ve got your answer right there Joe. Oh well, it was a nice dream while it lasted. I still owe Paul that beer, maybe I’ll find a new favorite restaurant with him. I don’t think I can look Merrie Carrie in the face after this. Joe’s gloomy thoughts spun around his head for what felt like ages before he felt a small but calloused hand gently wrap itself in around his elbow. He looked down to see that Moira had taken his arm in hers, a blush obvious on her cheeks as she looked up at him.

  “I think that we’ll just have to try and see.” she half whispered. Joe was speechless. The look on his face must have been particularly amusing because it drew a small laugh from Moira who squeezed his arm a little tighter. Their walk back took a little longer than expected.

  <><><>

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Moira knew exactly what was waiting for her when she opened the door at the top of the stairs. Since her father had radically redesigned the building, the door that used to block off the upstairs from customers had been drastically beefed up. Since it had been done by a blacksmith, it was mostly done in metal. She was fairly certain that the building would collapse before that door fell off its hinges. When she opened it, it did so quietly on well oiled hinges. Nevertheless Gretta must have been sitting there waiting because she hopped off the little couch the three of them shared and ran over, the silver in her mouth on full display.

  “Weeeell?” Gretta wheedled, aiming a nudge at Moira’s ribs that the stouter blacksmith deflected with practiced ease. “What did he want to talk about? Did you ask him out?” Gretta gasped “Did he finally ask you out?”

  “Gretta, please.” Moira protested, stepping back and raising her hands. She could feel the heat of a blush on her neck and cheeks and that always made her hackles rise. Moira felt blushing was something that only weak wristed maidens were supposed to do. She was a blacksmith gods dammit, she didn’t have time for that sort of nonsense. “Where’s Sarah? Did you manage to get her down?”

  Gretta gave a shrug and a modest smile. “Little Catnip doesn’t give Aunty Gretta any trouble. Although she did want to wait for you to come home. I just got out from rocking her to sleep so you might still be able to say goodnight to her if you wanted.”

  “And have to put her back to bed? Not on your life.” Moira walked over to the kitchen and dug out an afflette. She wasn’t exactly hungry, but she was full of a nervous sort of energy that demanded she did something and an extra afflette wouldn’t kill her. In shape it resembled a peach, down to the fuzz covered exterior. In firmness and flavor it was closer to an apple with a citrusy aftertaste. Moira gripped the tough fruit in both hands and ripped it in half. “Want some? I don’t really want to eat the whole thing.”

  Gretta held up a hand and Moira tossed half the fruit to her before reducing her portion two more times. “It’s still wild to me that you’ve got enough grip strength to just rip an afflette in half. I watched someone nailing shingles with one of these things.” The fruit made a crisp crunch as she bit down on her half, not bothering to reduce it like her employer had.

  “Then it must have not been ripe yet. I’m pretty sure you could too if you tried.” Moira popped one of her smaller pieces wholly into her mouth and worked away at the tough flesh of the afflette.

  “Nah, I’d rather learn to crush watermelons with my thighs” Gretta tucked her heels into the back of her thighs and mimed a crushing motion. “I wanna watch the boys' eyes pop out of their skulls.”

  “From seeing you crush a watermelon, or from being the watermelon?” Moira couldn’t help but smile. Despite Gretta being a little over half her age, she felt like a younger sister to the older woman. It had turned what could have been a simple business relationship into a full blown new member of the family, which was something both Moira and Sarah had enjoyed.

  The orc in question spread her arms out wide with another silvery grin. “Why not both? Send them to the hereafter with a smile. But you’re deflecting. Spill it Moira, what did you two talk about?”

  Moira heaved a theatrical sigh before walking over and flopping down onto the couch next to her employee and friend. “Well…”

  <><><>

  They’d walked in silence for the last five minutes before Mr.Alderbright spoke again. “So, how do you want to do this?” he asked, not looking at Moira as they meandered along the nighttime streets. Moira wasn’t sure what he meant, she’d made it pretty clear she was interested in a relationship, what more was there to talk about?

  “Hm?” she pitched the sound into a questioning tone, hoping he’d clarify a bit more. A moment later he did. Mr.Alderbright looked down at her. He was in desperate need of a haircut, with beard and hair both starting to fluff out like a lion's mane. Both were taken care of however, being brushed and free of tangles. This close to the man Moira could just make out the soft scent of sandalwood and wondered if he used cologne. The whole came together, not in a look of slovenly neglect, but of one of a man who simply forgot things at times.

  “Well, like I said; there are certain things I don’t have time for anymore. I know we just decided to be in a relationship.”

  Well hooray, he at least figured that out Moira thought, but kept it to herself so as not to spook him.

  “But I know a relationship isn’t just what one person wants. If there’s one thing I learned from my marriage, it was how important communication was.” Mr.Alderbright didn’t seem to want to look right at Moira, instead picking a spot about five inches in front of her and possibly years in the past while he talked.

  I wonder if he’s thinking about his wife. Moira thought as she let him collect his thoughts for the next push. Is he regretting how he treated her, or just taking a moment to mourn her a little longer? Moira had to be honest with herself. A jealous little part of her didn’t like the idea of ‘sharing’ someone who’d already been married, but the vast majority of her realized how hypocritical that was and told that part to shut up. I have a kid for fucks sake, it’s not like I’m coming into this baggage free.

  “I just want to be clear on what you are wanting in a relationship so I know what to expect.” He went on, “to me, the idea is to see if you and the other person would be a good enough match to eventually, well if not marry at least move in together. Which wouldn’t work well if you were wanting something more casual.”

  Moira nodded. “I’ve had enough of casual hook ups. Sarah’s father was a casual hook up I let go too far for too long. If you’re intentions are to stick around and be a part of our lives, then that’s exactly what I want too.” She shrugged and squeezed his arm again. “I’m not expecting you to sell the chemist shop and move in, nor am I willing to sell my shop and move in with you. But you’re always welcome to come by and spend the night with us.” She thought for a moment whelp if he wants honesty, let’s see if he can stand honesty. “Sex is off the table at the moment. This,” she gave Mr.Alderbright’s arm a gentle squeeze, “is brand new and that’s definitely a ‘down the road’ activity. Are you ok with that?” She expected he’d protest. She held her breath, waiting for the rejection. She was completely unprepared for him to nod in agreement like it was no big deal.

  “That makes sense, and I wouldn’t expect something that intimate right now. I also want to say; if I do something that you don’t like, or there’s something you just need to talk to me about, please do. I’m not very good at picking up subtleties and life is so much easier when people just say what they mean.”

  After dealing with the duplicitous Minx, that sounded perfect to Moira, if he actually meant it. “Fair enough, but I want you to promise me two things. One; if I do, you cannot get defensive or brush off my concerns. You have to actually listen to me.” She waited until she got a nod from Mr. Alderbright, before continuing. “Two; you show me the same courtesy. If I do something you don't like, please tell me. I won't promise. I'll change for just anything, but I'll listen.”

  Mr. Aldrbright nodded, “same here. I can't guarantee I'll change, but I'll at least listen.”

  <><><>

  “That doesn't mean a whole lot on its own.” Greta gave Moira a skeptical look. Moira nodded, pouring the hot water from the kettle into the teapot she'd prepared and bringing it to the lower table in front of the couch. Years ago, her parents had sacrificed the bathroom to add an extra bedroom. This had necessitated an overhaul of the rest of the house and culminated in the loss of a formal eating area. Meals in the Fairchild household were shared at the low table, either on cushions or with one's legs tucked under themselves.

  “It's more than I ever got from Minx.” She said as she tucked herself into the other side of the table from Greta.

  “Still It doesn't mean he's promised to change anything.” Greta's long legs made the standard sitting arrangements more awkward, so she usually compensated by leaning back against the couch and sticking her feet out the other side of the table. This left them right next to Moira, alone and unprotected. She reached down and ran a finger along the bottom of Gretta’s foot. This caused a knee-jerk reaction that banged The orcs' shin painfully into the bottom of the sturdy little table.

  “Son of a bitch Moira!”

  “ Language”

  “Sarah's asleep” Gretta grumbled, rubbing at her bruised leg. “Also you didn't answer me. Why does it matter if he says he'll listen if he flat out says he won't change?”

  “He didn't say he wouldn't change, he said he wouldn't promise to change.” Moira shrugged at the skepticism that Greta gave her. “All right, let's try this a different way. You made the same deal with your boyfriend-”

  “Gods, I wish I could find a boyfriend worth anything” Greta grumbled laying back against the couch.

  “Focus girl, or I'll tickle you again.”Greta sucked her feet back to her side of the table and glared at Moira. When she was sure she had Greta's full attention again she went on. “So let's say he comes to you and says ‘hey when you cook you leave all of the cupboard doors open afterwards’-”

  “I'm getting better!” Greta wine.

  “Focus! Is that a reasonable thing to ask to change?”

  “Yes,” grumbled Greta.

  “Okay new situation; he says he doesn't like the way you dress and wants you to dress more modestly.”

  Gretta sat up, murder in her eyes. “How I dress is none of his gods damn business. It's hot in the forge. I'm not wearing a fur balcalvesh just because he can't handle the idea of other people having eyes.”

  Moira gave her a nod as she poured them each a cup of tea the fragrance of citrus and chocolate filled the air as the steam wafted up from the delicate bone china cups. “There's your difference. Now it's a matter of seeing if he's willing to both listen and change on reasonable requests.”

  < ><><>

  Joe was on Cloud nine the rest of the night and into the next day. The only damper on his mood was the continued absence of Goober. Joe wondered if he should have invested in a collar, but he wasn't sure if that was something this world even did. In the end he had to just trust that if Goober wanted to come home, he would. Joe was still thinking about the big lug when he heard the front door open.

  Looking up Joe's stomach immediately knotted up. It probably wasn't the nicest sense, but years of working with the public had imbued Joe with an almost preternatural sense of when someone was about to be a pain in his ass. The richly dressed youth who sauntered in flanked by two gentlemen who looked anything but gentle gave off the feeling of an absolute migraine in the making. One was a male orc, whose finely cut suit looked like it had to have been stitched around him to get all his muscles in it. The other was a huge male lanoli. The brute had pitch black fleece and the four horns of a hebridean. Joe hoped he was wrong, but he very rarely was.

  “Morning gentleman, let me know if you need anything.” Joe gave them a polite nod and a smile. His heart sank as they made a beeline straight for him.

  “I'm here to sell some enchanted items.” The apparent leader in the middle drawled, the corners of his mouth twitched but never quite returned Joe’s smile. Selling magic items wasn't illegal. There were many ways a person could come into possession of them, and the adventurers guild only held the rights to those items looted in the dungeons. Even with that, something in their demeanor was screaming at Joe that he did not want what they were offering. He had to at least look at it however, it was only polite.

  “All right, let me get my equipment out and we'll take a look at it.” Joe made a show of rummaging round under the counter before coming up with a soft cloth roll that he unspooled on the counter. The center of the roll held an embroidered square large enough to set a dirk on. The outer edge of the square was ringed by a number of small pockets that held various delicate instruments meant to identify magical items. The whole thing wasn't strictly necessary for Joe, as his tutorial specs gave him all the information he needed. However, he found that going through the motions put his appraisal customers more at ease. It had actually become a strong side business to the shop.

  The fancy pants in front of him look down at the unrolled appraisal cloth with mild disdain. “What is this for?” He drawed, the disdain now clear in his voice.

  “An appraisal toolkit.” Joe chose to ignore the man's tone and focus on digging out an aura loop from its designated pocket.

  The man gave a little chuff of annoyed laughter like he couldn't believe what Joe was saying. “Do you know who I am?” The man demanded.

  I should make a dumbass sayings bingo card Joe grumbled to himself as he looked up into the man's sneering face. His patience was rapidly coming to an end. “Not particularly, no.” He made a gesture towards the appraisal cloth that the man pointedly ignored.

  “I am Gerald Bacarti, son of the man who owns this shop. I will tell you what I'm going to sell you, and what I expect to get in exchange for it.”

  Joe had to count to ten before he trusted himself to say anything. Even then he'd only managed to go from “absolutely done with this idiot” to “snark the asshole”. “I don't remember having a son. Go to your room young man until you can learn to act your age.” Joe was quite pleased with the purple hue the man turned. It almost matched the gaudy shirt he was wearing. Less pleasing was the way the two heavies that bookended Gerald squared their shoulders and glared at Joe.

  “How dare you,” the fop hissed, “my father is Gerald Bacarti, the man who owns this god's damned building you're squatting in you low born clod.”

  Low born clod? I can work with that Joe stuck his finger into his ear and wiggled it around. “Your dad’s named Gerald too, doesn't that get confusing around the dinner table? Also your daddy doesn't own this building, I do. I bought it from him a couple months back.” Joe let his face fall and his eyes harden. “So you can cut it out with that holier than thou attitude and let me take a look at what you brought me or get out.”

  The heaviest took a step forward, now fully bracketing their leader. The man drew himself up to his full height. He was over six ft, tall and towered over Joe's shorter frame. This didn't bother Joe overly much, as a good gut punch would fix the difference. When it became obvious that Joe wasn't going to fold, Gerald gave a derisive snort and snapped his fingers. One of the sidekicks produced a small velvet bag which he took and tossed onto the counter in the general vicinity of Joe.

  “There you are cretin. It's a flight ring of my own design, and I will be getting at least five gold for it.” The ring in the bag definitely looked like it should be enchanted. Deep yellow gold shone around diamonds inset in an eternity style around the circumference of the ring. It felt heavy enough to be real gold, but that wasn’t the point of why it was here.

  Joe made a show of examining it with his various instruments both to annoy the little turd and to get some genuine practice in. Ring of flight eh? Let's see here; no air alignment on the aura. Although there is one, so magic was done to the ring. It's not holding a charge worth a damn so either those diamonds aren't real or it's constantly discharging itself. I'm not going to waste the coins to see if it will take a charge, so glasses it is then. Joe tipped his head back to catch the ring in his tutorial specs and both eyebrows went up

  Botched Magical Ring

  This ring was used incorrectly at an enchanting table, and as such carries a flawed enchantment. salvageable if submerged in salt iron.

  —/—mu

  Flight ring my ass, you were just looking to fob off a piece of junk. Well two can have fun with this, Joe thought, turning the ring over in his hands.

  Gerald gave him a patronizing smirk. “See? I will be expecting a full apology from you as well as a generous offer to buy.” Joe gave a grunt before stepping away with the ring. As he did so Gerald’s sneer turned into a look of annoyance. “What are you doing now?” he demanded.

  Joe glanced up at him as he pulled a piece of gray colored chalk from its cup on his enchanting shelf. “I'm going to run a diagnostics routine on this ring. Something's not adding up with it.”

  “I forbid it,” Gerald said, quickly motioning for his associates. The two men made their way over to the swing gate in the counter and opened it, stepping through without breaking eye contact with Joe.

  “Hey!” Joe dropped the chalk back into its cup and moved to block them. “It’s employees only back here!” The hebridean lanoli caught Joe by the neck and bore him backwards into his chemistry table, pinning him against the stone table top. The orc held the gate back so Gerald could walk around the counter.

  “Now,” Gerald drawled again, swaggering over to where Joe was pinned. “I'm tired of this. Where is your cash box? We will take what we're owed, plus an “inconvenience fee” for your insolence.”

  “Go to hell.” Joe growled around the man’s hand. He tried to push off the table, but only succeeded in getting himself slammed back down for his troubles. Pain shot up his abused spine as the sharp corner of the table was ground into his back.

  “The cash box?” Gerald asked again. He picked up one of Joe's Spirit lamps and sniffed it pulling. Pulling a wry face, he let It drop where it shattered when it hit the ground.

  What I wouldn't give for some cool system generated super powers, but no I wanted to have a quiet domestic life Joe grumbled in the privacy of his own head. Gerald opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the organic equivalent of a sword being drawn.