I Survived What the Logs Deny (Dummy's corner table)

[Test Dummy]

I swear this tavern is alive.

I’m sitting here, still recovering from the cold draft that tried to turn me into a decorative ice sculpture, when suddenly…

THUNK.

Something lands on my table.

Not gently.
Not politely.
Not with any kind of explanation.

Just — *THUNK.*

I look down.

And there it is.

A… thing.

A small, round, wooden… object?
Token?
Button?
Relic?
I don’t know.
It looks like something you’d find in the pocket of a wizard who forgot he was a wizard.

It has no label.
No logo.
No note.
No purpose.

Just vibes.
Suspicious vibes.

I look around.
Nobody claims it.
Nobody even looks in my direction.
The tender is wiping glasses.
The waiter is pretending not to see me.
The alley cat is judging me from the doorway.

So I poke it.

It doesn’t move.

I poke it again.

Still nothing.

I poke it a third time —
it rolls.

Just a little.
Just enough to let me know it’s capable of movement and therefore capable of plotting.

I ask the tender,
“What is this?”

He glances over and says,
“Random item, sir.”

RANDOM ITEM.
RANDOM. ITEM.

That’s not an explanation.
That’s a warning.

Why is it here?
Why my table?
Why now?
Why does it feel like the beginning of a side quest I absolutely do not want?

I try to ignore it — it rolls again.
I try to move it — it rolls back.
I try to drink my beer — it somehow ends up closer to my elbow.

This isn’t an object.
This is a threat.

So now I’m sitting here, guarding my drink, my pockets, my dignity, and now this mysterious wooden menace that has decided my table is its new home.

If it starts glowing, I’m leaving.