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Hopomancer
Deep beneath the soft loam, beneath the crust covered minerals, beneath the course clay. In caves of old and new lies hidden biological treasures. Growing gilded gold for those who have the knowledge. A boozy breath and rotting crooked smile, blood shot yellow eyes and broken red blood cells. Massive blotched nose with bruised lips. Shaky hands slowly reach out and pluck every morsel found.
The ten foot tall towering figure lurches through caves. Leaning against walls for support his constant hicks bounce loudly off the walls. Occasionally a peeling giggle or whimper escapes his lips losing itself within the dark. The awful aroma drags off the giant, it leeks from him sliding off and slithering along the ground. Sweat, yeast, hops and pine overpower noses. Bring water to eyes and confront taste buds like a living sensory wall.
The stretched oak barrel on his back opens up and with a splash found fungi is thrown within. It bubbles and froths away, vents give burps and release hoppy clouds. To stew and brew. To create an ale for me and you.
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