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Eldric sprinted down the forest path like a caffeinated hare hopped up on magical mushrooms, clutching his precious pouch of enchanted pipeweed in one hand and the squishy, squelchy sloshes of his beloved slimes in the other. His staff pulsed with a faint, judgmental glow, as if it were silently asking, Are you absolutely certain this is a good idea? The trees whipped past in a blur, their leaves smacking him in the face like nature itself was heckling him.
His robes flared behind him like the fiery tail of an apocalyptic comet, and his majestic beard seemed to have taken on a life of its own, thrashing wildly as he shouted at the unfortunate wildlife.
"Out of the way, NATURE!" he bellowed at a squirrel that had the misfortune of crossing his path. "I HAVE NEEDS!!!"
The squirrel froze, blinking, before scampering off with the kind of frightful judgmental disdain only a forest rodent could muster. Eldric barely noticed, already barreling toward the looming gates of Ulderi Town.
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The Entry Into Ulderi Town
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The gates of Ulderi rose like imposing stone teeth, flanked by guards who looked like they'd been chosen for their ability to look perpetually bored. The town was alive with its usual chaos: merchants hawking their wares, children chasing one another in reckless abandon, and a juggler who was wobbling dangerously atop a barrel of pickles.
Eldric hit the gates with the subtlety of a hurricane. The guards flinched so hard that one dropped his halberd directly onto his own foot.
"Halt! Who goes—" one guard began, only to be interrupted by Eldric vaulting over their heads with the grace of a caffeinated gymnast.
"NO TIME!!" Eldric barked, landing in a tumble of dust and sending a stray chicken into a nearby fountain before continuing to Sprint off. "WHERE ARE THE PIPES?!!!"
The guards, utterly flabbergasted, just stared, blinking. One finally muttered, "Is… is that…?"
"Yes. Yes, it is," said the other. "And we are doomed."
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The First Incident: The Fishmonger
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Eldric's first victim—err, target—was the fishmonger, who was just arranging flounder with the careful precision of a man who had nothing better to do than respect the dignity of fish. Eldric barreled into the stall, sending crates of flounder flying like a meaty confetti cannon.
"My Good Man, Do You Have A Pipe?!" Eldric demanded, lifting the fishmonger into the air by his apron. The man flailed, flounder sliding down his arms.
"A p-p-pipe?! No! I sell fish!"
"USELESS!!!" Eldric yelled, tossing him onto a bed of lobsters. The crustaceans scuttled in all directions, claws snapping like tiny underwater jackhammers and to the fishmonger yelping at a random snap of a random crab. The nearby townsfolk scattered, some tripping over stray herring, others shouting indignantly at the magical chaos engulfing their morning shopping.
"Is this… is this some new festival?" one elderly lady asked nervously, clutching her shopping basket to her chest.
"No," replied her husband, holding a squirming fish to his chest like a holy shield against evil. "This… is a Tuesday."
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The Herbalist's Stall
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Next, Eldric stormed into the herbalist's stall, a kaleidoscope of jars, dried leaves, and powders. He slammed his slime pouch onto the counter with such force that a cloud of powdered basil erupted into the air like a green fog of doom.
"HERBALIST!" he thundered. "I REQUIRE A PIPE! SURELY YOU MUST HAVE ONE—YOU DEAL IN LEAVES!"
The herbalist coughed violently, waving the powder away. "I… I have a tea strainer?"
Eldric blinked. "TEA?!!! DO I LOOK LIKE SOMEONE WHO WASTES TIME SIPPING BOILED LEAVES?!!"
"Kind of, yes?" she offered cautiously.
Eldric threw his arms up, scattering a few potted plants into the crowd, one of which toppled onto an unsuspecting child, who shrieked and ran in circles while clutching a mint bush. "The incompetence in this town is staggering," he muttered, dashing onward.
"Staggering!" yelled a nearby grocer, who had been buried under a shower of basil and a rogue pumpkin? Basically worn on his head thanks to the chaos like a helmet. "And also incredibly aromatic!"
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The Cobbler's Workshop
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The cobbler, hunched over a half-finished boot, barely looked up before Eldric bellowed, "COBBLER!!!!"
Startled, the man dropped a shoe onto his own foot. "Agh!! What is—"
"FASHION ME A PIPE AT ONCE!" Eldric demanded, pointing at the leather like it was an uncut diamond of destiny.
"I… I make shoes," the cobbler stammered.
"AND DO SHOES NOT HAVE LEATHER?! AND DOES LEATHER NOT CRAFT BEAUTIFULLY FLEXIBLE TUBES?!!" Eldric leaned in close, eyes wide. "THINK OUTSIDE THE BOOT, YOUNG MAN!!!"
The cobbler hesitated, then handed him a small, leather whistle he'd been tinkering with. Eldric sniffed it disdainfully and tossed it over his shoulder. "THIS TOWN IS CURSED WITH MEDIOCRITY!!!"
A nearby child, holding a bucket of apples, tripped on the whistle and launched half the produce into a fountain. "He's cursed the apples too!" she yelled.
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The Glassblower's Revenge
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Finally, Eldric came upon a glassblower's stall, where vials and colorful glass pipes sparkled in the sun.
"Perfect!" he cried, snatching up a spiraled pipe. "At last, my salvation!"
"Hey! You have to pay for that!" protested the glassblower.
"This is exquisite work," Eldric murmured, puffing experimentally. Immediately, a wheeze erupted—a sound resembling a goose having an existential crisis.
"Bah!" Eldric tossed the pipe back onto the counter. Shards exploded like miniature fireworks.
"You're paying for that!" the glassblower shouted, rubbing his forehead.
"I'LL PAY IN EXPOSURE!!" Eldric yelled, sprinting off. The townsfolk ducked, some applauding, others clutching broken vases with the glassblower roaring "HEY!!" and giving chase before tripping on his own feet.
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The Dwarven Forge
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Eldric arrived at the dwarven forge mid-hammer strike.
"YOU THERE! DWARF!!!" Eldric shouted, staff slamming onto the anvil. Sparks flew, narrowly missing the dwarf's eyebrows.
"Look, lad, I'm making a blade fit for a king," the dwarf growled.
"AND I AM CRAFTING AN EXPERIENCE FIT FOR THE COSMOS!" Eldric flailed his slime pouch for emphasis. "SURELY YOU UNDERSTAND THE GRAVITY OF THE SITUATION!"
The dwarf ignored him, hammering with precision. Eldric stomped off muttering, "Philistine!" Nearby villagers whispered among themselves, "Is that… normal?" and "-And what is Philistine?"
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The Turning Point: The Gnome Stall
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Tucked in a quiet alley, a gnome smiled behind a cluttered stall of curious contraptions. "You look desperate," he said.
"You… have… no idea," Eldric panted.
From beneath the counter, the gnome produced a simple, rune-etched pipe. Eldric trembled.
"How much?" he asked.
"One silver," the gnome replied.
"ARE YOU INSANE?!" Eldric shouted, tossing a pouch of coins that spilled in a glittering waterfall. "Keep the change, you lunatic!!!"
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The Smoking Session
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Perched atop a tavern roof, Eldric packed the pipe with his treasured weed. He inhaled, and the smoke coiled upward, forming a phoenix that exploded into a flock of flaming ducks. The ducks quacked in perfect harmony, circled the rooftops, and then vanished, leaving behind a lavender-scented enlightenment.
The townsfolk below gawked, jaws dropping, mouths full of half-chewed bread.
"That… that's… magical ducks?" whispered a baker.
"They quack… philosophically," added a blacksmith.
Eldric leaned back, grinning like the king of absurdity. "Ahhhh… perfection," he murmured, bliss radiating from his very pores. Children clapped, an old woman fainted in awe, and a stray dog barked in approval—or maybe indignation; it was hard to tell.
For the first time in days since his transmigration, Eldric felt pure, unfiltered contentment. Around him, Ulderi's citizens recovered from chaos, shook their heads, and muttered about the mad mage who had turned their market into a slapstick opera of madness. But Eldric? He was untouchable, a one-man symphony of Smoky high as well as joy and giggles, with the world? finally right, exactly as it should be, with him? completely higher than a kite.