FINALLY HERE in notes and credits
In a communal bakery, a gentle creature named breadert was brought to life by a spark of hearth-magic. He was sculpted from the bakery's finest ingredients: a massive sourdough boule for a torso, flexible limbs of braided challah, and a soft brioche head with two twinkling raisin eyes. By day, he helped the village children reach high fruit branches, his joints giving off a satisfying, deep crunch with every movement. By night, he watched over the ovens. He knew he was fragile—heavy rain could melt him and crows coveted his brioche ears—but he lived with quiet joy.His courage was tested during the late autumn harvest when a sudden, violent storm trapped the village children in the valley foothills. Seeing the sky turn to bruised iron, breadert stepped out of the bakery and into the torrential downpour.The rain was brutal. The water washed away his protective flour coating, making his crust tacky and turning his challah legs into heavy, shapeless pillars of dough. To make matters worse, a flock of valley crows descended, peaking at his softening head. Drawing on the wild yeast bubbling in his core, breadert exhaled a thick cloud of hot steam, blinding the birds and driving them away.Trudging through the rising mud, he finally reached the children huddled beneath a broken wooden cart. breadert’s legs had melted completely, anchoring him to the earth, but he refused to fail them. Leaning forward, he stretched his massive sourdough torso over the cart like a living canopy, sealing out the freezing wind. His radiating internal warmth kept the children dry and safe through the night while the rain battered his back, dissolving his outer layers into a pale slurry.The next morning, the villagers discovered the unharmed children and the collapsed, ruined dough golem. They rushed breadert back to the bakery on a handcart. Working quickly, the bakers dusted him with fresh flour, reshaped his limbs, brushed him with a golden egg wash, and slid him into the massive stone oven.An hour later, the oven doors opened to a magnificent aroma. breadert stepped out, his crust a deeper, crunchier golden-brown than ever before. Though a few dark spots remained from the crows like honorable battle scars, his crust fractured into a warm, inviting smile. He was finally home. He then went on to make a micronation of peace and bread.
