>>24495643
The beautiful, engraved applewood box which contains the 51N°3 falls apart as if its lid was made of little more than dust. Ages have passed since it was lovingly polished and placed on the warehouse shelf, waiting to be delivered to a toy shop somewhere else on the continent.
Your model 53 is about as tall as an apple, and was made with the highest quality materials, meant to last and endure plenty of use and abuse. You wish you could remember what those materials were, but that information has been lost in your damaged brain. The package has soft, rich red velvet pillows to keep the toy-faery in place, and a small fake bottom for a instructions manual.
As the M53 sits up to peek around, its magical eyes have no trouble in the dark (without a light source, however, it cannot read, and can only see in black and white).
Through its eyes, you see that the devastation is nearly complete. All the other crates in the warehouse have been cracked open and their contents destroyed or stolen. It is difficult to say if it was monsters or adventurers looking for treasure, at this point.
The warehouse is some 900 feet wide and about 200 long, with a tall roof overhead and lines and lines of shelves. The windows are broken, of course. There is no wind, and your M53 can detect no movement.
Its first impulse is to "cast" a light spell and look for children to play with. Tiny, but bright golden, red and white specks of light float upwards as it takes flight, and you just barely manage to stop it from singing.