Scarecrow was stood on the edge of the yellow brick road, his wooden musical instrument strapped to his back and a purple hanging from his burlap lips. He puffed out a small cloud of smoke and sighed, bud hat dipping slightly over his face to shield him from the harsh glare of the sun. He spent so long in the sun that his originally darker burlap skin had been bleached white. It was rather patchy too, his arms were still a darker tone. It was the opposite of tan lines.

he was posted as a guard here years ago, protecting the path and blocking its way. Rarely anyone ever passed through, so it was a rather useless job. Boring too. That was until one day, this day, he spotted a figure in the near distance making their way down the path. His eyebrow raised curiously and he tipped his head back, stepping into the road and holding out his gloved hands. “woah there, sorry pal, can’t let you pass. You know I never see folk round here, you don’t look like you’re from around these parts.” he said with a tilt of his head “I’m going to have to ask you to turn around, unless you can defeat me I suppose I’ll have to let you through.”