🍺🔥 The Tale of the Workshop That Definitely Didn’t Explode

A Tavern Tale Told Twice — Badly by Harl, and Correctly by Skivvit (according to Skivvit)

The fire was crackling low in the hearth when a traveler pointed toward the back window, where the faint outline of a new stone outbuilding could be seen through the mist.

“Was that always there?” they asked.

Every regular froze.

Because Harl — boots braced, beard rings chiming, mug in hand — let out a long, theatrical sigh.

“Oh aye,” he rumbled, lifting his drink. “That would be Skivvit’s new workshop. On account of the old one bein’—”

“FUNCTIONALLY RECONFIGURED,” Skivvit shouted from three tables away, goggles perched on his forehead like they were ready to spring off and start their own life elsewhere.

Harl ignored him.

“—utterly obliterated.”

“It wasn’t obliterated!” Skivvit protested, scampering over. “It was… illuminated. Briefly. Intensely. BEAUTIFULLY.”

Harl took a sip.

“It exploded.”

Skivvit threw his hands up. “SEE? This is why dwarves shouldn’t be allowed adjectives.”

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🍺 Harl Begins the Tale (Badly, According to Skivvit)

“Picture this,” Harl said, leaning forward, voice dropping to that gravelly whisper that made the whole tavern lean in.

“It’s night. Quiet. Peaceful. Not a creature stirrin’. Not even Ashwhisker glarin’ judgment at the moon. And then—”

He slapped the table so hard three mugs jumped.

“—KA-THOOOOM.”

Skivvit groaned into his hands.

“Harl, that is not what it sounded like. It was much more of a FWOOOOM-wrrrraaaAAAHHHH–chk-CHK–PANG situation.”

“Anyway,” Harl went on, “Skivvit comes shootin’ out of his workshop like a halfling launched from a trebuchet.”

Skivvit gasped. “I RAN OUT WITH PURPOSE!”

“Ye ran out with eyebrows on fire.”

Skivvit gently patted his singed hairline. “…scientific cost.”

“The lad’s detection contraption—”

“THE VEIL-FLUX-INTERDIMENSIONAL-MULTI-AXIAL-MAGI-METER™”

“—starts shrieking like a banshee with a toothache,” Harl said. “Then every candle, lantern, and rune-bloody-stone in the place flares bright enough to make the gods blink.”

“And THAT part,” Skivvit interrupted proudly, “was intentional.”

“It was not intentional,” Harl deadpanned. “You screamed ‘NONONO IT’S NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT’ loud enough that Thalia rolled out o’ bed armed with her frying pan.”

Skivvit winced. “Okay… that part might not have been intentional.”

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🔥 Skivvit Jumps In (Because He Can’t Let Harl Ruin His Art)

“Look,” Skivvit said, hopping up onto a stool for height. “My old workshop didn’t explode-explode. It merely experienced a rapid structural decompression caused by an unexpectedly enthusiastic Veil-energy surge.”

“Blew the roof clean off,” Harl added.

“ARTISTICALLY.”

“And the walls.”

“REDUNDANT.”

“And ye landed in the trout barrel.”

Skivvit pointed dramatically. “That trout had NO RIGHT being that judgmental.”

He cleared his throat.

“Ahem. ANYWAY. The important part is: Thalia said I needed a workshop that would be ‘less flammable,’ ‘less collapsible,’ and ‘less likely to ignite the Lodge itself.’”

Harl grunted. “Ye forgot ‘less shrieky.’”

“Oh, she DEFINITELY said shrieky,” Belvik called from the corner.

“RUDE,” Skivvit huffed. “My devices do not shriek. They express concern acoustically… which I'd think you’d appreciate, Belvik!”

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🪨 The Birth of the Stone Workshop

“So,” Skivvit went on, “Thalia asked the Lodge for help… something like ‘gods help us’ or some such. And the Lodge — beautiful, mysterious, semi-sentient architectural wonder that it is — decided I deserved…”

He spread his arms wide.

“…AN UPGRADE.”

Outside, through the fog, the stone shed glowed with warm amber light, sturdy and patient, as if resigned to its fate.

“Now it’s fireproof! Shock-resistant! Reality-stabilized! And warded against interdimensional leakage!”

Harl muttered, “Until he finds a way around all that.”

Skivvit beamed. “Oh, I will.”

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🍻 The Tavern Reacts

The room laughed — the kind you feel in your ribs, warm and communal.

Someone raised a mug.

“To Skivvit’s Workshop 2.0! May it last longer than the last one!”

Skivvit lifted his own mug high.

“May it last EXACTLY AS LONG AS SCIENCE REQUIRES.”

Harl clinked his mug against Skivvit’s.

“Aye. And may the gods preserve us all when Workshop 3.0 comes around.”

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🕯️ Final Note Found Tacked to the Tavern Board (in Skivvit’s handwriting)

DO NOT ENTER MY NEW WORKSHOP WITHOUT PERMISSION.
(Unless you have snacks.)
(Or need something fixed.)
(Or if you hear a suspicious humming and want to bring me the fire extinguisher.)
(Actually—just knock first.)

Signed,
SKIVVIT EMBERFLICK — INVENTOR EXTRAORDINAIRE

…and Harl, who added below in dwarf-runes:
“If he’s on fire again, just throw a blanket on him.”

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The Lodge keeps its secrets… and its storytellers.

If you’d like to know who this talented tinkerer truly is, step into the archives:
👉 Skivvit Emberflick — Inventor Extraordinaire & Certified Genius

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