The Flaming Scroll, the Spinning Door, and the Filing Cabinet of Doom. Episode 1
A Tale from Mike’s Tavern
It all began, as these things usually do, with beer, boredom, and betrayal by parchment.
We were sittin’ in the Leaky Tankard — a tavern so foul it made my own taproom look like a temple. The floor was sticky, the air smelled like wet bugbear, and the ale had floaters I didn’t remember ordering.
I was tryin’ to read the job scroll when the blasted thing caught fire. And no, not magical fire. That was me. I’d stuck a spark gem into my wand to “enhance its arcane vibe,” which is wizard talk for makin’ it look cooler. Turns out, it also turns parchment into kindling.
Helga, our overly righteous war-priest with the bedside manner of a rusty spork, doused it with her holy water — which smelled suspiciously like the dish bucket behind the bar. “It’s consecrated!” she said. “Consecrated to who, Helena? The god of flat beer?”
Meanwhile, Thrain — our barbarian — shouted “FIRE GOOD!” and tried to hug the flame like it owed him money. Balrik, our rogue, took this distraction as a chance to pick the bartender’s apron, only to find it full of stale breadcrumbs and exactly zero coin.
That’s when Lord Poshbottom arrived.
Now, if yer thinkin’ “Mike, that sounds like a name for a bloke who’s never worked a day in his life,” you’d be right. Velvet coat, shiny boots, and the kind of moustache that looked like it was drawn on with a quill dipped in arrogance.
He explained — very slowly and very condescendingly — that a “rare artifact of radiant illumination” had been discovered in a dungeon filled with bureaucratic goblins. He called it the Orb of Slightly Better Lighting, which frankly sounded like the kind of quest you give to interns. But we were broke, hungover, and curious.
I tried to take notes. Spilled ink all over his cape. He wailed, “Imported from Elaria!” Balrik whispered, “I could sell that for three coppers.” Helga accidentally blessed the table during the commotion, which began to glow like a holy disco ball. Thrain, mesmerized, headbutted it and knocked himself out cold.
So far? Typical Monday.
We set off the next morning using my Navigation Aid, which was a D20 I’d painted with compass points. I shook it and it said “Northwest,” so I led us right into a cow pasture.
Thrain screamed “STEALTH MINOTAURS!” and charged the herd. Got stuck in a mud pit, horns first. Balrik tried to stealth through the field and slipped on cow dung, sliding face-first into Helga’s blessed shield. She looked at the heavens and whispered, “Why me?” I cracked open my spellbook and pretended to “scrye” the way forward using an old tavern menu.
Eventually, we arrived at the dungeon. Or more specifically, the revolving door guarding it.
Now, dwarves and revolving doors don’t mix. Thrain dove in like it was a mimic. Got stuck mid-spin. “IT’S A TRAP!” he screamed, spinning endlessly. Balrik tried to pick the lock. It was a push door.
I cast Detect Magic. It backfired and gave everyone static hair. Helga, done with our nonsense, kicked the door open so hard it came off the hinges. “I should’ve stayed in accounting,” she muttered.
Inside was our first obstacle — a magical filing cabinet that hissed and spat forms at us like some cursed bureaucratic beast. Balrik signed one “Balrik the Magnificent.” The cabinet yeeted him into a drawer labeled “Pending.” Thrain tried to smash it. Got a paper cut so bad he dropped his axe. It landed on my foot. My scream echoed across the dungeon like a banshee with gout.
Helga — blessed Helga — filled out every form properly while grumbling about tax season. When Balrik emerged, he was covered in paper clips and shame.
And we hadn’t even met the goblins yet.
Want to know what happens when goblin accountants demand adventuring permits?
Episode 2 is coming soon:
The Goblin Auditors of Doom and the Great Coffee Pot Siege
If yer smart, ya’ll read up on Wondrous Items That Ruin More Than They Help, because that glowing compass of mine? Was one of ‘em.
And if ya want to avoid being filed away for eternity, check out How to Handle NPCs Who Get Too Attached.
📌 Wanna hear it straight from me every time a new tale drops?
Join the Mike’s Tavern Discord and argue with other fools who think revolving doors are puzzles.
Stay tuned, lads. This mess is only getting worse.
