The Wand Situation
A short and deeply suspect Elvish tragedy (in three giggles or less)
It began, as most magical mishaps do, with a suspicious crate, a curious Elf, and absolutely no adult supervision.
Calenor, son of Thalorien, wielder of the Gleaming Leafblade, defender of the Sapphire Glade, and known in certain taverns as “Twiggy”, found himself squinting down at the wand.
It was humming.
Then it started vibrating.
Not just a little bzz. No, this thing rattled like it had opinions. Possibly a vendetta. Possibly jazz hands.
He blinked. “...Is it supposed to do that?”
His companion, a halfling with no impulse control and a PhD in poor decisions, leaned in. “Does it have a pulse?”
Calenor lifted it gingerly. The wand shivered in his hand like a squirrel on espresso. “It’s... tingly.”
“Are you sure that’s a wand?” the halfling asked, eyes narrowing. “Because I once mistook a vibrating turnip for...”
“DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”
The wand twitched violently and shot a glitter bolt into a tree, which immediately turned into a disapproving goose.
The goose honked.
The halfling applauded.
The Elf sighed the long, weary sigh of someone who knew exactly how many scrolls he’d now have to file explaining this.
And then the wand purred.
Calenor, son of Thalorien, wielder of the Gleaming Leafblade, defender of the Sapphire Glade, and known in certain taverns as “Twiggy”, found himself squinting down at the wand.
It was humming.
Then it started vibrating.
Not just a little bzz. No, this thing rattled like it had opinions. Possibly a vendetta. Possibly jazz hands.
He blinked. “...Is it supposed to do that?”
His companion, a halfling with no impulse control and a PhD in poor decisions, leaned in. “Does it have a pulse?”
Calenor lifted it gingerly. The wand shivered in his hand like a squirrel on espresso. “It’s... tingly.”
“Are you sure that’s a wand?” the halfling asked, eyes narrowing. “Because I once mistook a vibrating turnip for...”
“DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”
The wand twitched violently and shot a glitter bolt into a tree, which immediately turned into a disapproving goose.
The goose honked.
The halfling applauded.
The Elf sighed the long, weary sigh of someone who knew exactly how many scrolls he’d now have to file explaining this.
And then the wand purred.
