You are the legendary cock shaman. You are charged with the trying task of satisfying Mother Nature's whims, calming her rages, and taming her excesses. You have been training for years and today is the day you wade into the wilds surrounding the outermost village of your peoples' tiny corner of the world.
"I need provisions," you say. The shopkeep is a titan of a man, easily a foot taller than you and as broad across as any two other people. On a raised dais behind him, his wife sits at a desk, moving tiny baubles, gold coins, and little slips of paper with one hand as she writes in a tirelessly rebound ledger with the other.
"We got provisions here," the shopkeep says, politely enough, "you got coin you can even leave with some."
"I'm going to be heading out into the wilds. I can set up a base-camp and fend for myself, but I'll need about a month's worth of dry goods, some rope, and whatever dry wood you can spare. A yard of canvas wouldn't be bad either."