Medium Bag of Skritt Shinies sits on the market stall like a small sun captured in burlap. Its fabric is a coarse, honey-colored weave, the drawstring a braided strand of leather that squeaks softly when pulled. The bag wears a map of use—frayed edges, a patch over a seam where a metal tag once anchored a label in Skritt script. When you tilt it, the shinies inside catch the light: tiny coins, glass beads, a button gleaming, a chipped gemstone that hums with warmth. Open it and a breeze of coppery scent escapes, as if a crate of treasures had waited in a sunbeam. Legends murmur that shinies are more than money to the Skritt; they are memory, a ledger of favors traded in the tunnels beneath the earth. To hold the bag is to feel the world tilt toward a long forgotten bargain. In practical terms, it is a miscellany of small, gleaming items that players can press into service in a dozen ways: a barter factor with vendors, a token to unlock a hidden container, or a quick repair kit when you bargain with a seasoned tinkerer who values glints over gold. The contents shift with the Season and the whim of scavengers: a ribbon of tarnished brass, a shard of blue glass that reflects a memory of water, a cluster of tiny bells. It is easy to imagine a Skritt crier tallying these shinies on a carved bone plate, whispering with a twitch of whiskers about trade routes and favors owed to the burrowers under the city. On the surface it is a bag, but you learn its significance in the world the moment you barter with it. People who carry a Medium Bag of Skritt Shinies do not hoard wealth; they collect relationships. In a single night market, a bag can soften a stern vendor's stance or grease a stubborn deal for a map fragment or a quest scroll. The shinies are a social currency—people trade them not just for silver, but for stories, for introductions, for a chance to borrow a fuse for a makeshift machine. When the traders gather, the bag is a focal point—a reminder that value in their world is as much about trust as about metal. Even the market knows that the bag is a passport of sorts, a talisman for the curious. Saddlebag Exchange, a name many merchants murmur with a wink, notes that a Medium Bag of Skritt Shinies typically negotiates for a fair handful of copper and then some—more if the gleam catches the eye or a rare charm hides inside a seam. I watched a young apprentice roll the fabric between gloved fingers, weigh the weight of stories with a single set of eyes, and walk away with enough trinkets to coax a little luck into her next voyage. And so the bag travels on, a portable ledger of favors, a portable map to a bustling, glittering network of hearts and pockets. The bag's glow, faint as a rumor, keeps travelers hopeful.