The Goblin's Chest

A pawn shop, run by a Goblin called Bur’barig
The narrow corridors of the shop made it difficult for Merakesh Larkin to traverse without knocking into something. He was off his game, he was tired and he was running out of time. His tall frame bumped the overstocked shelves as he stepped over piles of books, and ducked under hanging contraptions that dangled precariously from the ceiling. Bur’barig sat perched on a high stool behind the counter, way at the back of the long tapered pawn shop. Bur’barig was a small Goblin though he had rather unusually large eyes. He wore a pair of spectacles which had no fewer than six other pairs of lenses jutting out from it like eyes on a spider. His nose was long and sharp, and from each nostril protruded several short tuffs of grey hair. The Goblins spindly fingers were wrapped around a specialised screwdriver as he methodically dissected a large metronome clock. Goblins were renowned for their uncanny connection with the mechanical world. Bur’barig in particular loved clocks, the pawn shop was full of them. Some that made noise as the seconds past, and some remained silent. He had a fascination with cuckoo clocks and refused to part with a single one. He enjoyed the time when all manner of things would appear from within the clocks chiming the hour. It did make it difficult for anyone with a keen sense of hearing to spend too much time in the shop, but Bur’barig felt safe around the mechanical heart beats and that was all he cared for in these tough times.

Type

Shop, Generic