Steampunk Era: Mad Abield

Pushing open the small wooden door, Casaman glanced at the situation inside the shop—the gnome shopkeeper was sitting behind the counter, just as he had been during previous visits. If it weren’t for the bell on the door, the gnome might still be asleep.

"Casaman, aren’t you preaching tonight? Why are you coming to my place at this time?" the gnome yawned. He was one of the fences for the Order of the Loving Father, hence his acquaintance with Casaman.

"I’m here to buy some gear. I’m not in charge of tonight’s sermon; I have things to do." Casaman said while pulling out his wallet and slapping it onto the counter: "One hundred and twenty rounds of 11mm caliber rifle bullets; a semi-automatic carbine, military issue; and a 357 Revolver, sixty rounds."

"Whoa, you want so much gear, are you planning to rob a bank or something? I warn you, if you’re going crazy, I won’t sell to you. I don’t want to be thrown into a dark cell by the national security agency," the gnome said, eyeing his ’partner’ with caution.

But Casaman shook his head, taking out another wad of cash bound with rubber bands from his pocket: "Another thing, a short-barreled Shotgun, 12-gauge, lever-action, plus forty rounds."

"...Hey, man, what’s going on?" Looking at Casaman’s ashen face, the gnome pulled a long, boxy case from under the counter, opened it, and took out a somewhat old rifle: "A military rifle, no need for you to operate the bolt, just pull the trigger. This is my shop’s treasure."

"That’s the one!" Casaman extended his hand.

The gnome held his hand down: "You still haven’t answered my question, Casaman."