Every morning, a Wordler is chosen to undertake a quest for one magic word that will protect their village for another day.
Yesterday's Wordler had brought back TRAIT. "I'd had it in me all along," she confided, as she passed the questing staff to her successor. "And you have it in you as well, she whispered. I can feel it."
"Kneel," the QUEEN demanded, and with a tap from her scepter on each shoulder, the Wordler had a new identity. "Arise, Wordler 355. Your quest will take you across the wide lands to the south."
355 got off to a good start but somehow, despite her best efforts, she strayed off the path and ended up in the ever-dangerous Rhyme Zone.
"I've heard bad things about this place," 355 muttered to herself. "The rhyme zone can doom a quest to failure."
Soon, the crows who lived in the forests of the Rhyme Zone came out to mock 355 and waste her precious time. "Not laughter, not an origin, not laughter, not an origin," they repeated until the sun was nearly down and the quest still unfinished.
But 355 well knew that if the crows of the Rhyme Zone could be endured, an answer could be found in their call. And so it was.