It had been a fateful evening. You’d just been quietly drinking in the inn, hoping for a meal that wasn’t turnips, when those madmen had come in. A pair of wood elves, a half orc, a pair of dragonborn and some kind of human monk. Adventurer types - just keep your neck out of their blade line and it’d all be fine, right?
Wrong. One of the dragonborn came up to you, brandishing what looked like a piece of coal. He spoke common like someone who had never heard it, yet you couldn’t help but feel compelled by his words. To be more precise - “Take this to the Deep Halls, and get good reward.”. You hesitated, and this was followed by the word “Please” - and a flame brandished under your chin, held on a claw.
With a gulp, you fled the tavern, and it was only once you were home at the farm that you noticed you were clutching the piece of coal. Regretfully you realised that probably meant you’d accepted - and thus it would be best not to be seen by them again. So you packed your meager possessions into a bag - a few days rations, a change of clothes, and that lump of coal - picked up your walking staff, and set out.
As you set out, you passed back through the village - Bree, your home - sticking to the shadows. You didn’t do the best job of it, given the familiar elf sitting outside the inn yelling “Good Luck” to you. Again, the strange compulsion set in, and you realised that if you were leaving, you may as well do the task at hand. ‘Good reward’ sounded good to you.
During my 5e game, the PCs decided to send a random farmer on a quest. Through a series of natural twenties, they succeeded. You are that farmer (or at least the voices in his head.)
See that city on the SE peninsula? That isn’t Bree. That’s Thasakris, ‘capital’ of the Thasakris region. Follow the road to the west and the first marked village you hit (a few days walk out) is Bree.
The Deep Halls is that big Dwarven city, conveniently beneath the giant label saying Deep Halls.
Oh, and I should probably mention - the kingdom was invaded by high elves from the West recently. They retreated, which sounds good to you, but the lands East of Bree are still in pretty bad shape. Turnip based meals abound.
The guard on the Eastern gate is Harold. He’s a volunteer - and your rival in the local turnip growing competition. And, in true volunteer style, he’s hiding behind the gate, out of the wind, with a pipe. You wouldn’t expect anything more from Harold.
Still, he could cause you some trouble, so you take stock of your attributes. You’re a
human male called… well, no one outside Bree knows you, so you suppose you could choose
whatever name you like. But more importantly, you always
excelled at a pair of things -
strength certainly was useful at farming, as was
constitution. But your
dexterity might have helped make a little extra coin from the others in the village, and your
charisma would get you out of any trouble you got into. And still,
intelligence and
wisdom would have given you a one up over the other, less educated, farmers, with fancy fertilisers. Oh, but of course there was a
pair you kind of sucked at. Shame about that.
Regardless, you feel Harold won’t let you past easily.
What you need, is a plan.
the human male.
Strength:
Constitution:
Dexterity:
Charisma:
Intelligence:
Wisdom:
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Topic: Farmer's quest [SG] (Read 2881 times)