Kopo was big for his age. At nearly a centimeter in height, he was amongst the tallest of the Zwerschmig, and with a year left before his Tzermonbier, it would not surprise anyone if he spiked up another millimeter, or perhaps even two. It was not unheard of.
Earlier in the day, Kopo had been resting after a rousing game of zlauff with his friends, when his mind began to wander. He remembered staring at the curved wall of his family's stein, his thoughts on nothing in particular, and then it happened. Just behind the smooth, glassy ceramic he saw a passageway, fading in, fading out. Idly, he wondered if this was what his parents did during anfuirbier, but that just wasn't possible - it tooks months of training to transport between steins. It simple wasn't possible to learn on your own.
Though someone had to learn it on his own, right? The first Zweschmig to beerwalk obviously could not have been taught by anyone else. He must have figured it out.
Kopo had stood and shuffled to stand in front of the vurmloche. Beyond the solid wall - for he reached out and touched it to be sure - it was like watching the scenery through a train window, not that he had ever done that. Blink, and there was a tall stein sporting dragons. Blink, a squat scyphus with satyrs entwined around the shank. But there were other scenes too, strange and foreign, for which he knew no words.
Kopo rapped upon the wall of the stein once more, comforted by its solidity and grainy fragrance. Tired from so many bouts of zlauff, he turned his back to the edge once again and slid down to sit upon the bottom of the mug. Again his mind went blank, and that was when he fell back into another world.
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