Dodge and the Elemental Fire Ale

With an audible ‘Snap-Crackle-Ouch!’, Dodge’s worn boots skidded across the scorched rock beneath him, leaving behind the distinct scent of singed leather and nearly sending him sliding into the worst bath of his life in a pool of lava. He landed in a crouch, panting, the merciless heat of the cavern clawing at his lungs like an overeager blacksmith testing his forge.

Cave… Now there was a word that didn’t do justice to this absolute nightmare of an environment. No, no, this wasn’t just a cave—it was a blast furnace. A blister pit!. A Walk-in Fireball. A Why-Would-Anyone-Voluntarily-Come-Here-Hellhole! Dodge grimaced as he wiped sweat from his brow, already regretting every life choice that had led to this moment.

"'The camp is just a quick stroll through Cinderspire Caverns,' Senior Wayfinder Grimshaw had said… 'Avoid the main cavern and nothing will bother you,' he said… 'Oh, it’s perfectly safe this time of year,' he said!" Dodge gritted his teeth as another burst of flame erupted against the wall nearby. Looks like his broiled pizza oven of a break was over. Time to get out of here before he was spotted!

Then came the laughter. High-pitched, maniacal, chittering, goblin laughter, echoing throughout the cavern from all directions.

“Oh, of course. Because what every fine, welcoming, brick oven really needed was a horde of goblins!”, Dodge sighed dramatically.

And then—whoosh! A barrage of blazing missiles hurtled past his head, narrowly missing him and exploding against the rocks behind him in a spray of molten shards.

"Fire Goblins. Just... Lovely.", he muttered as he tried to think non flammable thoughts.

Dodge tried to take a quick look for a way out and barely managed to duck back in time as another firebolt sizzled toward him and a chittering goblinoid bark rang out. Rolling gracelessly over the hot stone before springing to his feet in one smooth motion, he dived away from his hidey hole as it turned into a firepit. In a flash, he drew his rapier & buckler and readied himself to attack. He could take a couple goblins!

His assailants finally stepped into view: a dozen squat, grinning maniacal goblins with ember-colored skin and eyes that gleamed like molten gold. Their spindly fingers twitched as they conjured fresh flames to their hands, their expressions positively gleeful as they lit themselves on fire at the thought of roasting a Halfling alive.

“Oh wonderful, pyromaniac goblins,” Dodge muttered, raising his shield just in time to deflect another fiery projectile into the wall. “Just. Perfect. Because an army of regular goblins were clearly far too mundane.”

The heat was unbearable, his exit was blocked, and the goblins—delightful creatures that they were—seemed deeply invested in turning him into a Halfling flambé. Flight was not an option.

“Well, then…” Dodge cracked his neck, adjusting his grip on his rapier, and flashed a dazzling grin despite the sweat pouring down his face. “Time to show these goblins what Dodge does best!”

Surrounded by fire, goblins, goblins ON fire, and the insufferable suffocating heat, Dodge squared himself up and picked out the biggest, meanest, ugliest, Fire Goblin in the bunch. It loomed over the others, perched atop a boulder slick with molten rock, its cracked lips twisted into a sneer as it engulfed itself in flames.

With a sudden flourish, Dodge twirled his rapier and struck the most dramatic pose his singed leathers and burning boots could manage.

“Hail, my fiery friends!” he called out, arms spread wide. “Love the whole ‘raging inferno’ vibe—very warm, very welcoming. Might I say, you all have impeccable taste in décor—very ‘apocalypse chic.’ I simply Adore what you’ve done with the lava.”

The goblins hesitated in confusion. Their leader squinted.

Dodge seized the moment.

One dazzling speech, more than a few exaggerated compliments that still mostly landed even though he often had to explain them, and a drinking contest so intense it nearly ignited its own legend, that surely would have been the death of him if goblins had any idea to watch for sleight of hand when tossing back shots, later, Dodge emerged from the cavern, slightly singed, half baked but triumphantly clutching a mysteriously intact lava red-orange bottle, the scorched label reading:

“Grand Brewmaster Gurglok’s Elemental Fire Ale.”

And that, my intrigued readers, is the story of how Dodge Tanner, with nothing but his boundless charm, a silver tongue, and a well-timed toast, became the first Halfling to steal the Fire Goblin tribe’s most treasured drink—and live to tell the tale.

One Elemental Bottle down, just three more to go!

- Excerpt from "Why Go BIG, When You Can Just Stay Home?!", The Autobiography and "Do Not Travel" Memoirs of Derrek 'Dodge' Tanner.