Marge /D


    She was exhausted. Bruised. Bleeding. She scowled at the smiling young man at the register.


    Marge did not appreciate this maze of a giftshop after a tough and disappointing run. Not that she had to go through it, the exit was right there, but on principle she didn''t appreciate that.


    The giftshop didn''t mind Marge, she''d bought things before.


    That''s how Marge saw it, and how most repeat delvers did around here.


    Today though, she just wanted to get healed and go home. Even the thought of selling her loot wasn''t enough to raise her spirits.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Are you okay"? The man at the counter was looking concerned now, his slight frown and crinkled forehead a marked transformation from his too-cheery smile.


    "I''m fine".


    She dumped her loot at in a box on the counter, not wanting to deal with the hassle of selling bits individually.


    "Have a great day!" The smile was back at full force.


    ''Not much of it left'' Marge grumbled to herself. She didn''t say it out loud though. No one was rude to the people who worked at the various stores around the dungeon. She nodded at him as she walked out.


    She stopped by the clerics on her way to the inn, paying a few coppers to get healed, then turned in for the night.