Peasant General

>Be peasant
>Yard of chickens keep me full
>Adventurer kills me chickens
>Gosh darn starve sad

>Don the armor you made for the girl to go adventuring.
>Whenever using full helmet, keep receiving galant and not so galant compliments and cat calls from other adventurers and people on the road.
>Armor has narrow waist, boobplate, delicate decorations that mimick frills. It's also conceive to be worn with a dress.

I'm tired of villages claimed to be saved by the 'mute beauty'!...I'm not mute, I'm just super shy. And I'm no beauty. I'm a bloke!

see, here is the problem i don't like with most games. Armor traditionally is custom fitted after weeks or months of work. the lower quality ones you can get away with (chain mail, brigandine coat, etc) but for high quality armor, it takes alterations to fit it to you. A suit of armor made for a woman to fit a man, that is difficult to do. it would be easier to get a spell to morph you into a copy of said woman, kill her, and then wear the armor as her.

>Be pig farmer
>Got meself nice o' crop of pigs
>Harvest'em pigs
>A'ventoors come tae town, be like "Oi, Ye can't ferm pigs, you gobbeshit. Pigs ain' no crops. Pig's be live shock (or sum'fin )."
>Mysterious force erase all me pigs
>Now all I got is turnips.

Fuck this bullshit.

MAKE DAMP MUDHAMLET GREAT AGAIN!

Fantasy worlds work with their own rules, and this rules, unless state otherwise, are the norm. First rule of Fantasy is "one size fits all."

Every armor you loot, every sword, every boot or magical belt, will fit. No matter your weight, height or attire. You never see someone about to put on the girdle of genderchange and then suddenly realize it doesnt fit through your belt loops because they aren't large enough. You never see someone loot a magic breastplate of a foe (that's not TOO big or TOO small to be another size category entirely), and then find out it's loose and poorly fitted.

Another rule of Fantasy, for example. is that people have Shops where they sell things for coins. And they stock swords and armors in hopes of selling them to people passing by. That's not how it worked. People mostly traded service by goods and only used coins for large transactions, so many peasants never saw coins. And armorers would mostly work on commission, and usually be busy enough to make a living out of it, and they would never waste time, resources and material in a piece they weren't sure they'd sell. Same for tailors, really. And nearly all other artisans, except some trinket makers or people with constant demand like basket weavers. Even cobblers mostly worked on commission.

Another rule of fantasy yet, is that everyone accepts money. And that the gold coin is worth the same in all kingdoms and nobody has a problem with different currency. All currency is standard.

Could be worse. I had a pig-faced wife before those fuckers came about. Ugly as horse shit but those literal bastards being what they were ruined that for me too.

Can't som'on tell em why them a'ventoors always look so weird? Why their skin no covered in dirt and grime, and why they hair is so loose and always look like they had their yearly bath yesterday, but erryday? Why they have all their teeth like they wee ones, but they already grown up? Why they have such shiny, often revealing clothes?

I mean...I spend most of me life here in St. John-By-the-Pile-of-Shitte, it's not a bad village, mind yet. Much better than the next village down the road, Pile-of-Shitteshire. But In all me life, I only see normal folk...Ya know...Missing da teeth, with a weird limp here, with a good hairy mole there on the lip, and sometimes a slow eye and clothes covered in shitte. But not a'ventoors. They all look all fancy and dandy like them color-glass people in the temples of the capital.

I think we need to build a wall to keep adventurers out

I lol'd savagely

Not bad, was at a wedding last weekend. Dudes had special codpiece enhancements and chicks were wearing table napkins on their heads, so fly. That cunt Meips the Miller sat his fat ass on the keg and stove it in, so we had to lap the spilled beer from mud puddles if we were going to get any. I got a chick to flash me her hair, I'm so appealing right now

Guys there's some dude offering me armour and some sort of magic because they need to kill undead or some shit, wat do?

Only wanted the rats in my cellar gone, fucking wizard adventurers!

Just call a rock shaper and you'll be good, I know a wizard friend that can do that just fine.

Don't you hate it when adventurers get in a line, one after the other, and try charming, threatening, or mind controlling you into giving them want they want?

Never happened to me.
Now PLEASE help me.
There's a dude that wants to give armour and some magic thingamajig so that I can help slay some ancient undead or something.

I think I'll include that in my next game actually, that's hilarious, especially since I like having critical successes on skill rolls.

>As you crest the hill overlooking the hamlet you have to shield your eyes as the setting sun strikes forcefully off of the shimmering roof of the nearest shack
>I approach the shack wishing to speak to the person inside
>Alright, you come up to the door, a peasant opens the door "M'Lord, what can I do for you?"
>"What enchantment sits on this cottage?"
>"Enchantment? Oh the roof, right sorry for the confusion m'lord, that just happened after Willis the Handyman did a bang up job re-thatching last year. Nary a leak all spring."

>Party hears cracks of thunder coming from a nearby village.
>Over and over, at regular intervals, the crashes come, echoing off mountains and cottages nearby.
>Players approach slowly, trying to find the source of the sound.
>Eventually find a man with an overly elaborate axe chopping wood. He raises it and then brings it down forcefully, splitting a log in twain.
>CRASH
>Flashes of infernal light crackle over the surface of the broken firewood. The axeman then notices the players.
>"Two coppers a piece of firewood, Ten for Six."

So, is being a bartender safe nowadays?
Normally it's considered a dangerous job because adventurers show up and ruin the place (no wonder prices are all so high), but I hear wandering 'heroes' don't consider taverns chique anymore.

I want this meme to die, us adventurers hardly ever fight in taverns, much less wreck them for giggles.

The only thing you can bitch about is the occasional bastard in a barmaid's belly, but we all know they're whores anyway.

>As you creep just beyond the edge of firelight from the caravan you hear a rustling from the woods next to you, roll perception
>YES Nat 20
>Perfect, melting in from the edges of your vision is a figure swaddled in a cloak that seems torn from the very blackness of night
>Ah shit, this has to be the rogue bounty hunter we're after, alright I roll to sneak up behind him, fuck I ended up at 12
>Close but now cigar, as you approach the figure starts and throws his hood back. Staring perched atop a floating wisp of darkness is the ugly mug of Trevor the caravan guard. "Oi, by Pelor mate, can't a fellow take a piss in peace."

Reminds me of that time all my taters up and vanished because of some place called America. Anyone know a good mapmaker?

Can I have that screencap about the daughter of the blacksmith? You know, the one.

These?

...

...

People like you make me mantain faith in Veeky Forums. Thank you.

> TherealBBEGisborn.jpg

Hey chums

I'm-a workin a plot of land for th' Duke with me Pa and Brothers; growin' Barely and raising pigs an' such.

Trouble is, one o' His Lordship's daughters is lookin' at me funnily. Not in a way's that's bad, but I figured they weren't to pay attention to one o' my social standin'.

'ave I attracted her fancy? What in the blue blazes am I t' do?

Probably not. If you're growing barely you're probably too short for her, not to mention incapable of satisfying her in the bedchamber. Maybe look to a wizard to help that stunted stature.

...

Honestly mate, just off yer'self now save a lot of pain in the long run. Well might be you're safe for one tumble in the hay but yer not one of them fancy adventurer types.

The way this always go down is see she falls in love with you, huge scandal with the Duke's household and if yer lucky he's the bloke what kills you. Otherwise he gives his grudging permission to his daughter cuz some goddess of love came to 'er aid and changed his mind and bam another month later yer fried up by deamons or eaten by some dragon so that she can swear vengeance for you and higher some group of adventurers to do the job.

Now here's the real catswollop, that group of adventurers always has her next love interest in it, just the way these stories go. There you are barely placed in the ground and some mysterious ranger or righteous knight is up there in the tower slipping her the old meat spear.

Hear me true lad, leave her be, there's a reason peasants and nobles don't mix, nobles attract all sort of nonsense to them. Go for Greta down the lane, she's better tracks of land anyways.

>be me
>shepherd
>want to go adventuring
>leave village
>join an army
>get unbreakable sword, because I'm so good
>sandniggers attack
>kill the last one
>she was pregnant
>save the baby
>bring it back to village
>fast forward ~20 years
>now a widower
>give sword to son
>one year later he fucking breaks it

Fucking lost it

This how it goes, lad...Either you plow her, or you don't.

If you plow her, either her father finds out, or he doesn't.

If he does, either he plows you, or he kills you.

If he plows you, either he kills you afterwards, or keeps plowing.

If he keeps plowing, either you learn to like it, or you don't.

If you don't, that's a miserable life.

If you do...That's when your problems start.

>...and we call it the 'The Aristocrats'!

>be peasent with 1hp
>craft legendary armor fit for the gods
>the heavens themselves trembled beneath my blacksmith hammer
>go out to prove my worth and claim a seat of honour in vallhalla
>instantly get jumped by a band of scruffy hobgoblins
>I manage to kill one befor someone scores a crit
>die in agony while goblins loot my twitching body
Yeah I wonder why.

...

Wait if its worthy of the god of horses why don't you give it to said god of horses.

Impossibly valuable items are still VALUABLE. You just got to figure out how to make it work.

>be stableboy that has a bard college that's a ten minute walk
>solid 8/10
>got my eye qt bard girl
>adventurers come to town because of college
>barbarian is trying to sharpen his maul
>this draconic abomination knocks up qt bard
>wizard asks for horse
>try to oversell him because they look like they have abundance of gold
>fucking orc comes over to 'negotiate' a price
>not a beta farmer
>tell them both to pay or fuck off
>they pay
>tending the stables after they leave town
>notice a piece of paper with weird writing
>everything's on fire
>no more horses
>now a 2/10
Fuck adventurers.

He said it was magic. Most magical armor will refit itself; this set while Fitting still makes you resemble a lady as that was it's original design

>be the village fool
>go to tavern every night
>hear tales of all the mighty heroes and adventurers that run amok in the world
>sometimes they even come by in person and eventually start a fight
>always too scared to get involved
>they don't have a concept for anything between "completely untouched" and "dead as a doornail"
>get piss drunk all the time and sit in my tiny cottage, dreaming of adventures
>marry ugly pig maid across the way
>she can't stand the shame of being married to a boring fool so she cuckholds me with an adventurer
>gets a divorce (normally they'd sooner stone her but they pity her so much she gets off)
>decide to get piss drunk until I die
>wander out into the wastes
>straight into a band of marauding orcs
>I smile as the sweet embrace of death comes crashing down on my head in the form of a rusty scimitar
>at least I can die with a little action
>*THWIP*
>but of course, the fucking adventurers have saved the day
>their cocky arsed archer killed the pigfaced brute just as he was about to end my misery
>Unsatisfied with the loot off the orcs, they proceed to pick my pockets and leave me to vomit up ale in the road
>Wake up with the hangover of a century
>wander back to town to buy some rope to hang myself with
>Turns out they bought every last strand of spare rope in the village too
>Fucking Adventurers

S'all good. Found a sword the other day in a cave. Covered in all sorts of weird glowy marks and stuff.

Some weird woman in white said things to me that I didn't understand after I got out of the cave and poofed away after. Probably the shrooms I ate in the cave.

Sword looks good over fireplace.

You idiot you know next time an adventurer comes to town they're going to kill you for it. Or your next of kin ends up using it and then some invincible overlord comes to take you hostage because of it.

Adventurers came into town, tipped me fifty gold pieces when I told em where the tavern was.

Thing is, they gave me this huge handful of gold, in the middle of the town square, with everyone watching.

Now I'm the richest man in town, and I'm not sure if I'll live through the night.

What the bloody hell were they thinking?

>1hp

He would be killed by a stray spark from the forge long before he learned how to smith if that were the case.

i apprciate your wheel of time reference sir.

>be smith's apprentice
>can't make anything because trade is terrible
>town guards armor are from two generations ago
>adventurers arrive
>hand everyother person in town a piece of platinum
>they're asking about some legend of stolen treasure
>I tell them about it
>I got five silver,two gold and a platinum for it

Why are adventurers the best?

>Born in a farming village in Taldor
>Your granny taught you how to read and do sums but not much education besides that
>Can be described as "simple" on your best day
>Spend your days herding sheep
>Life is peaceful, the knightly patrols keep your village safe
>Everyone knows each other, no one has ever lied to you
>Everyone thinks that the word "violent" is just a fancy word for the purple
>Time of the year where you need to repaint the barn
>You hate painting the barn
>Your uncle hurt his leg so your dad has to cover for him
>Your Da' tells you that you have to paint the barn by yourself
>You do what you are told
>Start working while wishing really hard for the barn to turn red
>Keep wishing and concentrating on that thought as you do your task
>Start to feel something funny in your stomach going into your hands
>You feel an involuntary twitch in your fingers and words come out of your mouth
>You black out for a second and feel something weird
>Suddenly the wall you were working on is now red
>You stare at it in horror and amazement, memory of the finger motions and words of power still fresh in your mind
>Calm down after 5 minutes of frantic running in circles and freaking out
>Try to wave it off and resume painting the barn
>You really hate painting the barn
>An idea forms in your head
>You try to replicate the thingie that you just did
>Spend another 5 mins doing the finger wriggling and chanting the words
>Eventually it fucking works
>10 minutes later and the barn is now red
>Tell your Da' that the job is now done and ask him permission if you can go and play with Stinky Ned and Fat Robbie
>Dad inspects your work
>Amazed at how you managed to finish it so fast
>Pats you on the back for a job well done and lets you go off
>Enjoy fishing with your friends
>An hour later your Dad comes and takes you head back home
>After a thorough scolding by Your Mam and Da' and a thick ear later and they tell you that the barn is back to its old color

>Try your best to explain but you are not equipped for it
>Decide to demonstrate the thingie to them
>Your family stares in horrified fascination
>Except your mammy who panics
>Now have two thick ears
>Granny tells a story about this and tries to remember he word for it
>"Wizard"
>Da' looks deeply concerned
>Granny calls a village meeting
>Everyone seems excited and proud to produce someone of worth
>Another elder suggests finding a school for you
>Village collectively cringes at having thoughts above their station
>Everyone decides to pitch for your journey
>Granny makes you a "Wizard hat" out of old sack cloth
>Its really wide brimmed and has a star shaped pom pom at the tip
>The Caravan that passes the village to trade from time to time eventually comes by
>Your Da' takes you aside and talks to you
>He says
>"You're not a Necromancer are you?"
>You would ask him what that word means but its time to go
>Eventually reach the city
>The men at the wizard school tells you that you're not the right "Class"
>They must not take peasant stock
>Caravan master tells you that you might find better luck at the next city
>Decide to go
>Your journey continues and you figure out another thingie
>This time you can "teldekinedesitis" small things with your mind
>On one stop you see a small scorpion
>It really looks at of place
>It sees you and meets your gaze
>You stare at each other for a while and you feel an inexplainable bond between you
>You offer it your hand and it does not shy away
>It climbs onto your palm and you take it with you
>The caravan takes you from city to city, sometimes there is a school and they also turn you down, most times there isnt even a school at all
>Caravan master tells you that this is the last city on their route and they are about to head back
>You do not want to disappoint your family
>Caravan master offers to introduce you to another Caravan with a route going further outward
>You agree and work in the city for a while as you wait

>You make some money cleaning up stables and fixing small things with another thingie you figure out
>Most of the people in the big city make you feel like you're an out of place simpleton
>You know its true
>You keep your head down and mind your own business
>Eventually the next caravan heads into the city and you introduce yourself
>The Caravan Master tells you that the journey is going to be dangerous
>You don't feel that scared
>The scorpion knows what to do
>And you just figured out a thingie that lets you shoot color from your hand

Excellent writefaggotry, sir. Please continue!

0 level smucks don't get HDs bro

>2cp for one piece
>10cp for six pieces
That's a really fuckin' good deal.

So start selling godly amazing armour for reasonably expensive prices, this sort of stupid shit is why you'll always deserve to be a peasant.

OH yes, because last I checked, the Temple of the Great Stallion was accepting donations from filthy peasant scumbags.

Last time I tried talking to a Stallion priest, he just neighed me out of the temple before I could open my mouth so I wouldn't spoke the knights bringing their warhoses to be blessed.

Naturally, the town economy collapse with anyone young enough to move out heading to the city to make their fortune or spend the gold, a lot of basic services just got shut down. Nobody wants to pick the extra work because they are rich now. Eventually Hamlet is abandoned.

Great, here are we having a good ol' fashion peasant thread and this shit face a'ventoor come cuck us all with his fancy laddydah majiks.

Guess I'm some grognard fag doing it wrong.

>>Different city states have different currencies that fluctuate based on their markets.
>>gold only really accepted in city states, villagers balk at it.
>>Black smiths make weapons and armour on comission , do accept gold or equivalent good/favours(quests)
>> Wrong sized Armour can be salvaged but you have to pay a blacksmith to refit it
>> magic items incredibly rare and even basic ones are priceless. Only way to get them is adventuring or incredibly shady black markets with huge price variance and random items.

>Leave big city, grateful to escape the sights and sounds
>Caravan Master tells stories to the group about the city you're heading toward
>He says a lot "Wizards" go there, and live big, amazing lives
>You're not sure you want to live a big amazing life
>You don't know that you really want to be a "Wizard" at all
>Scorpion doesn't care, it just likes to sit on your shoulder and pinch at your collar
>Sometimes, if you do the thingie with some different words, you can lift the scorpion without touching it
>A lumberjack lady travelling with the caravan tells you this is more of that "tellem' can he sis" stuff
>You're not so sure your scorpion likes to be in the air though...
>You usually just keep him on your shoulder
>When it rains, he likes to hide under your hat
>You don't mind, but you wish the weather were better out here
>The Caravan Master says it rains so much on these roads because the "Vurn Ol' Children" steal clouds from the rest of the kingdom
>You ask him how they can be children if they're old?
>He looks mad at you, then just laughs and slaps your back
>Your scorpion clings on to you for dear life
>You continue your travels into mud country

>Every night, the folks in the caravan set up to camp, and then they drink a lot
>Some think you're too young to have what they're drinking
>But others get a scary smile on their face and almost force the bottles on you
>You usually go on a walk when this happens
>You like to splash around in the mud puddles along the road under the star light
>It reminds you of home, back in the days before you had weird stomach feelings and did all the thingies that make people real happy or real upset
>You sometimes miss those days
>But you also like being able to use a new thingie to clean the mud off your shoes
>Your clothes used to always be dirty-- except for your hat, which you always take real good care of like your Granny taught you too-- but now you can use the thingie to keep them real nice
>You bet your mammy would like that trick
>She always spends so much time cleaning clothes, especially when new people are in town
>She used to always go down to the river with the pointy-ears and the beard-men who would visit the town, to teach them how to wash their clothes
>You bet she'd be real proud of how good you can clean clothes, now
>You splash in another mud puddle, wiggle away the mud and bug, and walk back through the marsh to where the caravan people are asleep

>Back at the camp, everyone is quiet
>They usually pass out while you go puddle jumping, but this time you hear a weird, low noise that doesn't sound much like the Fire Starter's snoring
>You wind around the carts to the camp site to see if they're hiding, or maybe if they left without the caravan
>They're all laying at the campsite under the trees, with the fire out, covered in blood
>Everyone is dead
>You'll need to use the thingie again to take care of your pants, now, once you calm down and stop screaming
>Scorpion pinches your neck, and you manage to gather yourself a little bit
>But you notice the thing making the weird not-snoring noise
>A great monster its sitting off to the edge of the campsite, chewing at the Caravan Master's neck passively
>You almost didn't see it in the dark; the monster looks like it's a living tree, covered in grass!
>You realize that more trees at the campsite are monsters, and they're looking at you
>You start to back up, but the monsters get up and move quick, like they're always about to fall over, but they walk with their arms, too
>You really miss your mammy and Da', now
>You clutch your hat and turn to run, but almost immediately trip over a root and fall in the mud
>The monsters reach you quickly, and growl hungrily with steaming mouths
>Scorpion pokes at you with its tail, and you focus on the awful, awful feeling in your gut
>As the creepy trees roar and tower over you, you let the feeling from your gut wash over you and come out
>Your fingers twitch and wiggle, and your mouth starts saying things, things thath sound like names, but you've never even heard them before
>The colours come out of your fingers all at once, like painting the barn, but this time in the air, and this time a whole BUNCH of colours
>The bright colour light shoots out at the monsters, and they shriek out in pain and stumble around
>You scramble to your feet as the tree beasts roar and swing wildly
>You run, fast.

>You run quickly through the woods, just like the games you would play in the villag every Summer
>You don't think this feels very much like a game, though
>You hear lots of howls and growling from far off, and sometimes from close by
>You left the path a long time ago
>You stomp your way through mud and dark water
>There are so many plants here, it's sometimes hard to walk
>And there are so many trees, it's usually hard to see the moon and the stars
>It starts to get darker as you get further and further from where the campsite was, and Scorpion thinks it's going to rain again, soon
>You don't like being a wizard at all, you say aloud
>You continue to scramble through the swamp in the dark until the roars are nothing but a faded echo
>You wander in no particular direction, instead just following the weird mosses and mushrooms that grow on trees
>Some of them glow, and you just don't want to have to stay in the dark
>You trudge until off in the distance, you see a warm glow, and manage to make out a small cabin in the middle of the swamp, with a candle burning in the window
>You nearly trip over your own waterlogged boots as you half-sprint, half-jump through the mud all the way there
>Scorpion doesn't trust this place, but you're just happy to see anything that isn't more trees.
>You make your way to the front door of the shack-cabin and look around
>It's real old looking, and you think it might fall apart if a light breeze blows through
>There are bird nests on the roof, vines all over the porch, and a rabbit or something musta dug through the steps, because there's a big, rotten hole
>You don't mind though, so you walk right up to the door, smooth your sopping wet tunic, straighten your hat, and knock on the door
>Three
>Quick
>Knocks.

read the full pasta long time ago. Come on invent something new!

Moar

He better not meet a talking zebra that does voodoo which introduces him to various other talking equines

The lack of crops in this thread disgusts me.

...and famishes the whole village.

...

Well, there was that one pig farmer and his turnips. Turnips not good enough for you?

...

>Be peasant
>Minding my own business
>Fuck, do I sure love crops
>Out of nowhere the sky opens up
>Can't be good for crops
>A diverse group of four people fall out of it
>Go and trample on my cabbage
>They're high-fiving eachother and congratulating eachother on some fucking bafoonery they got into
>Still stepping on my crops
>Tell them to get the fuck out
>Barely apologize without looking at me
>Trample on out of my field holding some glowing crystal over their head
>Self-entitled shits
>Go back to cropping
>I love crops so much
>Sweet Chauntea, I love crops

>Begin to feel yourself start to choke
>You do your best to fight for every breath but it gets harder every passing moment
>Is this the end? You think to yourself, was all that effort for nothing?
>As you begin to asphixiate you begin to smell something vaguely familiar
>Its the smell of berry wine, Sweat and grass
>Your eyes snap open and realize theres a heavy weight on your throat
>You feel warm and wet
>As your eyes adjust to the darkness you see realize whats going on
>You somehow manage to lift the muscular arm off your neck before you asphyxiate
>You angrily try to get out of your bedroll as you try to squirm off the heavy mass o top of you
>The lumberjack lady crawled into your bedroll after she got wasted again didnt she?

Bürger please, you know that you need more than one farm to feed the people.

>"It was all a dream"ing another user's writefaggotry
you're a special kind of faggot, you know that?

Youre naive if you think only one person has been writing all of that

...

I don't. I wrote half of it. Just calling him a shit for using the absolute laziest narrative device possible.

Waa! Waaa! I can add to someones story but theyre a faggot if they do the same for mine!

Look asshole, I don't get to set the rates. Talk to the idiot upstairs about that.

>2016 Veeky Forums

I've an idea, all these squareskulls always trample our fields in groups of four gith? well why don't we just move somewhere and have arown farmin' nation, with rabbits, jes us living offa the fat of the lan'

Had something similar happen to me but I can't read.
Despite my mam telling me not to I took it to an educated fellow and paid to have it read. I give 'im the paper, he says he'll have it read by tomorrow and to come back then. Next thing I know as I'm walking out the door, there's a great noise and the whole roof's gone up and everybody's yelling. So now I'm on the lam for a while, sleeping in bushes and such. I wonder if this is how adventurers get started, eh?

>hey there bud, nice story you've got there
>lemme help you out by tacking a shite end to it
>why aren't you saying thank you?
get outta here

I was seriously enjoying the story and excited to see where it went, and then this asshole comes along and makes it go nowhere. 'twas all a dream is truly the worst writing device.

Tis years harvest has been top fucking lush friend. Winter shalt be but a piss in the wind.

>You flick the broom against the filthy rug for the forty-dozenth time today, or so it feels.
>As sparse flecks of dust and dried mud relinquish their hold on the fraying fabric, you daydream about going on a journey, seeing the land, and learning more about your bizarre heritage.
>"Relinquish." That's a new one. You've heard The Hag say it a few times, but it still feels weird to hear it in your own voice.
>Or, well; your own mind voice. You aren't permitted to speak aloud, unless spoken to.
>The Hag isn't even here. She's been out on her weekly newt run, and she'll be gone until just before sundown; the same as every previous week.
>Still, silence was an easy habit for you to learn, and would be rather difficult to break.
>You don't mind the quiet, really.
>It's certainly not as awful as these godsforsaken chores she has you do...
>...But you really don't want to have to deal with The Hag when she's angry, and leaving even a single speck of dust or grime will incite her full temper.
>"Incite."
>You can't even think of the last time she said that word. But you know it, somehow.
>That's one thing you must admit, about your time spent with The Hag; you've learned an incredible amount.
>In the three months since you showed up on her doorstep (and narrowly avoided being eaten alive, thanks to Scorpi), she's taught you more things than probably everyone in your entire village put together knows.
>Mostly magic. She's taught you a whole lot of magic.
>You're still not sure how you feel about that.
>But the one thing you still want to hear more about, that she only tells you in tiny morsels (one detail a week, and only for good behaviour!)...
>...Is your father. Your real father. The strange man with long ears-- even longer than your bizarre ones.
>The man they call "The Profligate Sorcerer."

OP here, I sort of wanted to continue the story of a peasant born earning his first class level (Indicated when he gains all four starting cantrips and two first level spells) but chose not to due to the mixed reception and needing to go to work. Maybe I will when I get back but phone posting is the devil and people seem to have already done so, so maybe something from the perspective of the sage/protector familiar.

Oh didnt see this as it literally took 8 mins to type that up. I'll leave the story in his hands

>You return the broom to its space in its cabinet, or as the Hag calls it your "Bedroom."
>Moving to dust the jars of Alchemical Reagents, your eye is caught by one in particular.
>It's a smaller jar, made of amateurish glassblowing technique, and it casts a brownish filter over its contents.
>However, even with their colour shifted, you can still vividly remember the shocking blue of the Wurms within the jar.
>And also the one within you.
>You swallow a dry mouthful and shudder as you remember the day The Hag made you eat one of the peculiar, magical creatures.
>Part of the "Awakening Ritual," she explained, it was responsible for awakening your latent heritage.
>And, as a descendent of the mythical race known as "Elfs," it is also the reason you've been able to learn so much.
>Though you doubted her for weeks and weeks, The Hag was gleefully certain that you were a descendent of the Elfish legend, the Profligate Sorcerer.
>And in the two months that your heritage has been awakened, you've come to accept and understand it.
>Still, you're not sure what it means for your future.
>The Hag tells you she can teach you the secrets of magic-- spells and elixirs to solve all of your problems and more. But she's cruel and vile, and treats you as little more than a rat-servant.
>You miss your home, but... Honestly, not as much as you expect you should.
>Your mammy and Da' think you're learning how to become a wizard, and you're sure they're happy believing that you're safe.
>The only people you could even think to call your friends were killed months ago by the Lurkers of the Deep, and you still feel bad knowing that you couldn't do anything to save them.
>You finish with the jars, and go outside for some fresh air, and to gather a few herbs for tonight's broth.
>Out here, you know it might not be too hard to run, to get away from The Hag... But where would you go?
>Scorpi is content to rest on your shoulder, and has nothing to say on the matter.

Well, at least you got a wife after all...