One last spell.

“I have one more spell.” You whine. She groans. You look over the list, the evil, or at least evil sounding spells, and choose command, you say one word that they must obey unless they resist. Then say, “Okay, I’m ready.” Suddenly feeling a little silly not getting more stuff.

The world shifts around you till you are standing at the edge of a sort of mix of old west and medieval fantasy town. You stroll in glad that the **** field protects your feet when you painlessly step on a sharp twig. Walking forward you touch each of the four daggers around your belt plus the little ammo pouch full of fat little bullets that you sort of see a magical expiration date of midnight. The blue words quickly indicate that your spell creates 50 per casting and last 24 hours. You make your way drawing glances from people as you pass, but clearly not so odd that anyone stares or runs away.

A blue word floats asking, “Find quest?” You nod at it. Three arrows appear, 1 blue, 1 pink, and one red. When you don’t instantly react, little tags appear. Blue “quest” pink “sexy quest” red “hard quest”