#dungeon23

Greetings! 

It has been an age since I last used this blog but the recent #dungeon23 craze has inspired me to return. 
I will chronical my progress here as I follow along with Sean McCoy's idea but with my own take and outcome hopefully. 

The original idea (can be found here) was to note/journal a room of a dungeon or to try and at least create SOMETHING to get in to the creative habit, even if the result that day was simply "an empty room".

I love the idea and for my take on it will be keeping a dead tree notebook but will also try to post a tidied up version online. Where my version will vary is in the focus of the subject, I do not intend to make a Megadungeon, instead, it will likely be a collection of encounter ideas, situations, NPCs, Shops, POIs, unusual situations along with several single or dual level dungeons.

While I may miss the odd day here or there, it is my hope to have something significant to show and potentially run in a years time. 

So off we go..

Day 1. 
Scrumpin Sach's Cider Shack

scrumping

steal (fruit) from an orchard or garden.

A little background

Sachley Undernook is a halfling entrepreneur that has built a hugely successful business for himself, selling the finest Cider in the whole region. With a combination of charm and a touch of halfling luck, Sach managed to go from selling jugs of cider from a broken wagon on market day to running a small shop and bar in just a year and hopes to take the next big step up to owning and running a tavern soon.

Unfortunately Sach's success was built on a flawed business model, all of his apples were scrumped and not a single one grown or paid for! while the business was small, a few apples from here and there were hardly missed but as the demand grew, so did the shortfall in the harvests of the local orchards. 

It didn't take long to figure out where the crop was ending up and was soon a source of ire for some of the smaller farms. The local reeve was already drunk on cider when they reported it and Sach denied any knowledge and claimed he sourced all his apples legitimately from the next town over. With their concerns dismissed, Old Boare and several of his farmhands have now taken the law into their own hands.

As the party approach or while passing by...

Approaching the small shack, a freshly painted sign that reads " Sachs' Cider" in bright red paint a white background can be seen standing proud of the small wooden building it is attached to. Out front are several small tables with a small fotted flower and some crude but sturdy looking stools surrounding them. 

Approaching the shack a shrill cry rings through the air. The is of agonised, almost childlike, and followed by some gruff jeering and humourless laughs.

The door to the front of the shack is locked but the rear entrance has been smashed and pushed loosely back in place from the inside. The rear room of the shack seems to be the source of the commotion.

The back room is full of apples, jugs and barrels on a variety of cabinets, crates and shelves that give the room a busy and well used look. A focal point in the centre of the room is large a screw cider press, with a large barrel to collect the pressed juice and a large screw type mechanism designed to pulp the apples and force the juice from them. Standing with their backs to the door are a group of large men with the appearance of farm hands, though from behind it is hard to tell much more about them. 

An older man can be glimpsed between them, pointing angrily at the something in the middle of the presses. anyone listening at the door will hear him growl "...think you can take the food of our plates do yer?! think you are above payin' me and my boys? times are tight and you be takin from us?! well let us show you how tight things can get 'round here for theives..." followed by the creaking of the screw press being turned by one of the thugs, instantly drowned out by the awful scream that rings out...

Who is here...

A group of 4 farmhand thugs, all tall and strong looking lads of bearing the look of locals, surround their boss an orchard farmer by the name of Rodden Boare "Rotten to the Core if you ask the local kids". He is wearing brown, threadbare and stained old clothing and sports shoulder length, greasy, brown hair that hangs in a skullet around his liver-spotted bald scalp. Boare is from one of the poorer plots of land and has felt the loss of Sachs' scrumping more than most. 

Sachley himself a young Halfling in immaculate dress, a mop of dirty blonde hair and a handsome face, currently contorted in extreme agony is on his knees beside the one of the presses. His hand is trapped in the press and being mangled inside as one of the thugs adds another rotation. 

Boare is out for blood and is deranged in his anger, fighting anyone that interferes until rendered unconscious or killed. The farmhands are less committed and will flee if seriously hurt or should Boare go down.