The Rude Welcoming
It was a long journey, but finally Verne had made it.
Standing in front of him was the village known simply as Tallbarrow. This was it. This was the place that could undo what he had become.
Ever since that fateful day, he had been stuck as an arm-less inkling. There is no respect found in such small form. Luckily, he is powerful enough now to conjure up a nice suit, black robes with green accents, and a good looking green banded top hat. And if that was not enough, he also levitated off the ground to give the illusion of height and make himself feel tall while simultaneously conjuring glove hands to compensate for his lack of hands.
Perfect.
What he lacks now in physical form can be made up for with magic. But it isn’t enough. Of course, why be content with this when there is something that could fix it all? That’s why he is here. Don’t lose focus on what is hiding inside Tallbarrow.
Rumor has it that there is a wizard here who owns an ancient artifact known as the Measureless Crown. A relic so powerful it can “restore what was diminished.”
Now this is something Verne can get behind.
Not only will he then have powerful magic, but also have his old body back.
So he flew up to the gate. And on the gate was a sign slightly overhead to the point where it was hard to read at first:
“WELCOME TO TALL BARROW - MIND THE STEP, SHORT FOLK.”
His glove hands clenched.
Really? This early on? He knew the people here didn’t take very kindly to short people, but already?
“Whatever, this place really needed a makeup anyways.”
He could not in his right mind let such hostile architecture exist.
And with that notion, his robes started to ripple. His hat tilted forward. He raised one hand, pointing to the sign with perfect precision.
“FRAZZLEWICK BOMBANZA.”
A pulse of raw mana charges from his finger before splintering out towards the sign.
CRACK-THOOM.
The sign explodes into a firework of wood and greenish blackish sparkles.
Beautiful.
That’s one way to feel tall again.
Then the gate guards turned around.
Two of them in total. One who is noticeably bigger and more serious. The other is someone younger holding a honey-glazed doughnut who looks way too comfortable with the fact he just heard an explosion.
“Did…” says the younger guard, squinting at Verne, “did the tiny wizard just declare war on Tallbarrow?”
“I am NOT tiny,” Verne snaps.
The older guard, now visibly annoyed, steps forward.
“State your business in Tallbarrow.”
Before Verne can get a word out, his spell book slips out of his robe and lands on a page of a very detailed sketch of a very round bee.
The younger guard goes to take a look at the drawing.
“Is that a bee?”
“It is a highly advanced diagram of an Apis mellifera,” Verne says without missing a beat.
While Verne had bees on the mind, without even thinking his magic twitches. Out of a slight little spark of green pops out a bee. Then two more sparkles spew out more bees. Then five.
Before Verne even realizes what is happening, a little swarm of magic born bees start orbiting his hat like he had this all planned.
He in fact did not.
The younger guard takes a few steps back.
“Oh, that is actually kind of cool.”
The older guard still looks unimpressed.
“You destroyed public property, weird bee man. You will come with us and submit to questioning.”
The bees buzz around Verne with eager in their eyes. One lands on his hat rim like a tiny little judge.
Verne audibly gasps at the guards. He quickly picks up his book before saying, “very well you have forced me into… defensive maneuvers!”
He instantly flings his floating glove hands wide before they disappear into black smoke. His robe stretches impossibly outwards like it is alive, swallowing him alive in monstrous folds of black cloth and green lining.
“MORBIDON CLOAKENZA.”
With a sudden twist Verne is completely hidden.
The younger guard is now very impressed.
“I have never heard that one before!”
“That’s because it doesn’t exist,” the older guard snapped back.
The bees, sensing tension but not understanding what the law is, begin making small laps around the guards. The younger guard drops his doughnut in shock before ducking for cover. The older guard swats at the air.
“Hold still!”
He hits one of the bees.
A grave mistake.
The bee he hit takes this personally.
Then several more do.
The swarm intensifies around the guards into a furious blur of yellow and black. The younger guard starts stumbling while flailing around wildly. The older guard tries to keep the swarm contained before completely abandoning the idea and running off.
“THEY’RE IN MY COLLAR-”
“STOP RUNNING, IT MAKES IT WORSE-”
“YOU STOP RUNNING!”
Verne, still secretly tucking away, can’t help but smile.
This couldn’t have gone better!
In the bee fueled confusion, Verne starts to drift lower. He shuffle-glides through the gate as one weird small robe ball. The people nearby are far too distracted with the guard’s bee-related humiliation to notice the self-moving robe hiding a very petty wizard entering towards the village.
Verne has officially made it into Tallbarrow.
Lanterns outline the streets hung well overhead. Honey candles flicker from every window. Festival stalls are crowding the streets. The streets overflow with the smell of roasted nuts, warm bread, candle wax, flowers, and fresh honey. All around this place people are talking, laughing, trading, and just loving what seems to be a carnival.
And then a child turns and points towards Verne.
“Mom,” she says, “that person’s clothes are flying away.”
Verne freezes instantly.
The mother quickly glances over before just chalking it up as “festival performers.”
Knew it.
Of course it was a festival. Only an idiot would think it was a carnival.
He slips deeper into the streets before he ducks into a small little alley on the side of the road. There he emerges from his robe-cover stance with a smug little float, brushing imaginary dust from his suit with his glove hands.
While peeking out of the alleyway, he notices another sign up ahead. Even from this distance, he still needs to look up to it, which feels a little demeaning.
The sign splits three ways.
To the left is the marketplace, which is brimming with people and goods alike. Townsfolk, merchants, and performers all in one place. The perfect place to get spat in the face because you are short. There is no way Verne is stepping foot anywhere near that place, even if anyone knew anything about the Measureless Crown.
Straight forward is a pretty direct path straight to the wizard’s spire. It is the fastest route to get the answers he needs and the easiest way to get out of here the quickest. This is obviously right where he needs to go.
Buuut the sign on the right does point to the gardens of the village.
But why would gardens be so important?
Because on the sign is a little carving of some flowers and bees.
BEES!
A little bee flew out of a green spark at the thought.
He could feel his heart stir.
His pride was also stirring.