Lots, actually.

Shopping and bartering in hell with some kind of hideous but rather polite creature you think you heard someone say was a hag is a rather odd experience, as is a store that sells all kinds of things that you would expect to see in any sporting goods store anywhere. They also recognize your ability to enchant items and suggest you clearly still have access to magic, just not the demonic energy that you were imbued with. The hag, Cindy, proves this by showing you a few simple spells and sure enough you can cast them, they don’t even seem to require any magical energy from you just sort of from the air. You end up with three simple spells, one that mends broken items or can create magic thread and needle all by itself to sew two things together, the second makes your eyes glow ever so softly and allows you to more easily see magic and read creatures auras as well as see in the dark, and last to pull moisture out of the air and fill a container with pure water.

Sadly as you have no real magical reserve of your own the only spells you can cast are long rituals designed to draw their magic from the area around you or from a magical object. You already know how to create magic items with this, create a love potion, and she thinks your ritual to draw the magic from a magical creatures cum will still work as well. She sells you a book that contains two more. The first allows you to use magic to shape a pile of materials into a finished product, the second to create a magical item that can act as a storage device for magic energy so you won’t need to carry orbs.

After thanking her you use a bit of the money you get to purchase a magic pouch, a lot like a fanny pack, that can carry 50 lbs much like your old magic ability, and weighs only 2 lbs even full. You then buy a pair of tight jeans, two pairs of comfy light weight leggings, three pairs of over the knee socks, three tank tops, and two sets of bikini style underwear. Two pairs of shoes round out your wardrobe, a pair of basically sneakers, and a pair of knee high boots of extremely soft brown leather. You then search for just the right weapon to defend yourself. You end up with only three gold left after saying, “Fuck it.” And buying a ww 1 looking bolt action rifle the creepy fat horned devil insists is an authentic enfield rifle in .303 British. Says you can’t buy the bullets anywhere but to your surprise and delight he has a ritual spell that you add to your book that turns components into ammo. You use it to be sure and, yup it works. You end up with a pair of ten round magazines and 100 bullets on five round stripper clips, six on a belt in pouches the other seventy in a cloth in your magic pouch. You also use the last magic orb to enchant the rifle that you now know has enhanced range and accuracy.

Rifle slung, dagger in a sheath on your leg, and clothes in your bag you look at your last three gold and say, “Fuck, I didn’t get any supplies or food.” Just then your tummy grumbles as if to emphasize your plight.