The village of Eldermere was the sort of place where the most exciting thing to happen, happened ten years ago. An exceptionally large pumpkin contest that ended in controversy when old man Riffins was accused of smuggling an imported gourd. The scandal rocked the village for weeks, leading to the Great Gourd Inquiry, a tribunal of three deeply concerned farmers and one exasperated village elder who had to repeatedly remind everyone that "it was just a pumpkin." To this day, Eldermere residents still cast wary, accusatory glances at any particularly oversized squash, and rumors persist that Riffins has a stash of illicit seeds hidden somewhere in his barn.
Aside from that, Eldermere was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. It was the sort of village where the baker knew how many pies each household consumed weekly, where cows became celebrities, and where the phrase "big news" usually involved someone buying a slightly faster horse. In short, nothing truly unusual happened in Eldermere – until Jophyr and Snik Snak walked in.
Jophyr strode into the village square radiating a magnificance that, to the untrained observer, could be mistaken for the self-important strut of a man who has just discovered he is next in line for a throne he didn't know existed. His glow caught the afternoon sun just right, making him an incredibly well-lit cautionary tale. He raised a hand in greeting to a passing merchant, who promptly dropped his basket of apples and whispered something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.
Snik Snak, ever practical, ignored the ambient reverence and instead focused on something far more important: food. "All right, Glowstick, we need to eat, and I'd rather not part with any of our money – especially after you decided that giving away all our emergency funds to 'the downtrodden' was more important than keeping us alive."
Jophyr blinked. "They were orphans, Snik."
"They were business-savvy orphans," Snik Snak corrected. "They haggled. And we lost."
"And so you are suggesting," Jophyr tilted his head, "deception?"
"I prefer to think of it as strategic storytelling."
The kobold apporached a bustling food stall run by an elderly woman who, up until that very moment, had assumed she would live out her days without encountering the divine. Snik Snak cleared his throat and adopted the tone of someone who was about to say something far more important than it actually was.
"Fine merchant! I bring you today an opportunity so profound, so life-changing, that your descendants will speak of this moment in awe. You – yes, you – have the honor of feeding him," he announced, gesturing to Jophyr, who, as fate would have it, had just adjusted his posture into something suspiciously angelic. A stray sunbeam landed on him with such precision that one had to assume the universe itself had become an accomplice in this farce.
The villagers had been carrying on with their entirely mundane lives, but now stopped everything they were doing.
One woman clutched her chest. Another gasped. A man in the back shouted that the heavens had sent them a sign.
The baker squinted. "Him?"
Snik Snak nodded solemnly. "Indeed. The one. The luminous beacon of justice. The…hm…the glowing herald of providence." He shot Jophyr a meaningful look, which the celestial promptly misinterpreted as encouragement to start posing heroically.
"Are you truly sent by the gods?" one villager asked, stepping forward cautiously.
"Does your presence mean our crops will flourish?" another inquired, mentally reworking their upcoming harvest strategy.
"Can you bless my goat?" a man shouted from somewhere in the back, his voice tinged with the urgency of someone whose entire livelihood – or perhaps just personal dignity – depended on divine intervention for a farm animal. The goat in question stood beside him, chewing what was either an old rag or a very unfortunate piece of someone's laundry, its expression one of deep and profound apathy. It flicked an ear at Jophyr, let out a faintly judgmental bleat, and resumed its determined chewing.
Jophyr placed a noble hand over his chest and offered the villagers a smile so dazzling that several nearly fainted.
The villagers had lived their lives believing in ancient prophecies, omens, and a particularly persistent local legend about a glowing figure who would bring a new age of prosperity and divine favor. To them, Jophyr was checking all the necessary boxes: radiant presence, confident proclamation, and an overall air of 'would look great on a shrine.'
A few of them exchanged frantic whispers about a beacon walking among them and a prophecy of the Luminous One. Another villager pointed at Snik Snak and exclaimed, "And the herald! The small one speaks his will!"
Snik Snak frowned and opened his mouth to dispute the villagers' misguided belief when Jophyr interrupted with a raised hand.
"My friends, I am but a humble servant of righteousness and justice. If my presence brings you peace, then let it be so!"
Apparently that was all the confirmation they needed.
One woman dropped to her knees as if her legs had simply stopped functioning, her eyes shone with the sort of reverence usually reserved for divine visions or exceptionally well-baked pastries. Seeing this, another villager followed suit, whispering something about the return of the Luminous One. A third, caught in the moment, collapsed dramatically, raising boths hands to the sky as if to embrace a destiny he hadn't known until now.
More followed suit.
Snik Snak tensed and leaned toward Jophyr, whispering through clenched teeth, "Uh…we might have a problem."
Jophyr, still oblivious, gave both the little wizard and the villagers a reassuring gesture. "Fear not, my children-"
"Nope! Nope, nope, nope!" Snik Snak grabbed Jophyr's sleeve urgently. "We are leaving. Now. Before this gets-"
Too late.
A woman shoved a basket of bread into Snik Snak's arms, beaming. "A gift for the prophet!"
"Prophet?" Snik Snak yelped, staring at the bread as if it had personally betrayed him.
"And one for the divine one!" Another villager thrust a bundle of hand-woven robes at the Empyrean, who accepted them with the graciousness of a man who had absolutely no idea what was happening, but had been trained to nod politely in all situations.
More villagers hurried forward, pressing food, flowers, blankets, and – somehow – a live chicken into their arms. Soft prayers began to rise in the air. Someone suggested building a shrine. Another began sketching plans for what would undoubtedly be an ill-advised temple.
Snik Snak groaned, adjusting the weight of the very confused poultry now perched in his grasp. "Glowstick," he muttered, "I think we just started a cult."