View character profile for: Largehobbit
Posted: Dec 3, 2020, 4:22pm
The Gelded Goblin was home to all kinds of unsavoury characters. Stale beer, pies that had been left out in the open for too long, and that mysterious soup-cum-stew that looked back at you while you ate it. There were also some bad guys lurking about usually.
The squat little tavern was perched on a hill in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere, no time, just kind of there. People might ask for directions for the Gelded Goblin, if they had heard of the old legends long ago, and then find themselves there in the next blink of the eye.
From its vantage point, the tavern watched over a great forge at the hill’s base. Ancient stone circled a brooding firepit. Embers and coals softly breathed as the dormant forge bided its time. It had once been the source of the greatest weapons known to all: big point bits of metal. Oh, wait, no, I mean stories. Yes, the power of stories that could devastate entire civilisations or nurture a single bud into a forest. Wordsmiths came and went, imparting their talents into the forge. But no more. Time’s march parted for no one and no thing, not even the Story Forge.
It is quiet now, but still the forge waits. Waiting for someone to ignite the flames once again and fashion a new tale to tell.
What do you think? Should the forge be relit for another round? I'll post a prompt tomorrow (unless Hobbit, you want to take the reigns?) and you all have two weeks to write your Pulitzer Prize winners.