Barry wasn’t your ordinary skeleton. His bones weren’t brittle or hollow like the others in The Garden’s Forgotten Grove. No, Barry was “big-boned.” His femurs were the size of tree trunks, his skull as dense as a boulder, and his ribcage—well, it had a sort of imposing charm. Barry spent his afterlife shuffling through The Garden, tending to a grove of Serasylva saplings, muttering about back pain.
Barry’s peaceful moping was interrupted by the crunch of boots on moss. He straightened, vertebrae creaking under the weight of his oversized ribcage. Adventurers. A rogue, a cleric, and a sorcerer, judging by their shiny gear and the rogue’s unsubtle attempt at sneaking behind a glowing sapling.
Barry sighed, his heavy jaw clicking. “Let me guess,” he drawled, voice low and gravelly. “You’re here for the saplings. Or worse—the bones.” He hefted his scythe with a grunt, glaring at the rogue. “These aren’t for looting. Not my bones, not their roots.”
The sorcerer stepped forward. “We’re just here to investigate the planar disturbances. No need for hostility.”
Barry rolled his sockets, the dim blue glow within flaring slightly. “Planar disturbances? That’s rich. You’re just looking for an excuse to pocket something shiny. Well, not today!” Barry loomed over the group, his scythe glinting ominously. “These bones may creak, but I’m tougher than your average skeleton. You don’t want this fight.”
The rogue snickered. “You don’t look tough; you just look like a skeleton who’s been hitting the midnight snacks.”
Barry growled, his humerus cracking slightly as he pointed it. “I’m big-boned!” The rogue’s laugh echoed across the grove. Barry swung his greatbone scythe in a wide arc, cleaving a nearby boulder clean in half. “See? You want to mess with this?”
The adventurers took a cautious step back, impressed. But as Barry tried to strike a pose, the weight of his scythe sent him staggering backward into one of the saplings. It pulsed angrily, its tendrils whipping toward the adventurers.
“Oops,” Barry muttered.
Desperate, Barry planted himself between the adventurers and the largest sapling, arms outstretched. “No one gets past Big-Boned Barry! Go home, shiny people!”
His stance might have been impressive if not for his pelvis wobbling slightly under the strain. The cleric pointed out the faint glow emanating from Barry’s skull. “Is that… a planar shard embedded in his skull?”
Barry froze. “Uh, no! I’m just… naturally radiant!” Then gripped his scythe, lowering his stance with an audible creak. “Alright. If you’re not leaving, we’ll settle this the old-fashioned way. But no funny business about my size!”
The adventurers exchanged glances, the grove growing still except for the eerie hum of the saplings.
Would they fight Barry, negotiate with him, or investigate the planar shard lodged in his skull? The fate of the grove—and Barry’s oversized pride—now rested in their hands.
