The Misadventures of Midel

The Keep lies on the Northwestern edge of the valley. Forge Valley became a centralized mining and smithy community along the trade route through the mountains.

9/25 - 9/30

Midel discovered the mines leading to his cottage long ago. He explored what he needed to find an adequate path. Knowing the draconic language of the kobolds yielded easy communication. Since the house is not that secure of a location, he takes his spellbook on ventures underground. Not only has Midel partially explored the mines, he’s used it to covertly travel south to the Ferral Woods, territory of several gnoll tribes. Trading with the gnolls isn’t forbidden, just dangerous. Why trade for items when you can pry them off dead bodies? Midel managed to barter a baby green dragon from one of the tribes by forging a dark alliance. Such a creature grants great prestige within the Green Dragon Guild once he trains it.

Controlling the beast was difficult from the start. Time constraints and research allowed the creature to grow wild and unruly. It ventures out looking for a bit of mutton to eat whenever the mood strikes it. Midel threw it a few coins whenever he returned to his small shack. It didn’t hurt to sleep with acid resistance cast on his bed, though.

The day of the duel, the enthusiastic conjurer travels into the mountains for final spell components. He returns to find the underground passage has collapsed. Matters deteriorate when orcs follow him into the mine, forcing their way into the upper levels. The orcs slaughter the kobolds. Half of the reptilians are wiped out. The other half escape to the lower levels. The kobolds plead for Midel to help and refuse to fight without him.

Weak and unprepared to ambush so many orcs, Midel declines. He aimlessly meanders through the chiseled passages. He wanders into the unexplored parts of the deeper mines. His careful plan crumbled with every step. To find a legal way to challenge Erol’s position took weeks. Frustration overwhelms him as his light spells go out one by one.

By the third day underground, his patience has worn thin. The kobolds no longer view him as a powerful magic user. He cannot convince them to help. He can’t be the only target on the elevator. There must be something else in the mine he can use. The cold darkness envelopes his hopes. The comfort of sleep eludes him on the dank stone. He wanders back and forth running his frail fingers along the walls. A few light sparks and a lantern would do wonders for his sanity. Every drop of moisture seems to echo for miles.

Five days pass. He crawls back to find the elevator shaft empty. The elevator has been secured to one of the upper floors after the party's ascent. He can’t get up. Somehow he finds his way back to the earthy tunnels of the ankheg. His tattered hands guide him with a last hope of digging his way up to the surface. The pile of rubble previously blocking his way home has been moved. Hungry, tired, and exhausted the wizard makes his way down the winding passage.

His abode lay in shambles. Smashed glass and burnt paper litter the floor. The dragon must have done most of it. Where is the dragon? “BLASTED! My notes? Where is all of my RESEARCH!? Where IS everything!!? The door is busted in. Erol! That fink! Curses upon that piss pot glamour-artist. This will not go…without vindication. He didn’t even leave me my hat. I’ll kill that illusory thief!”