Since my usual D&D group can’t play while I’m travelling, here’s a D&D themed pun interlude to tide them over.
Things get crazy playing with anthropomorphic vegetables: when the beet cleric bathes you in a healing (and very red) light, you’ll finally be glad to have been beet-rayed by your own party.
There was a similar occurrence with the blackguard in a party of undead. Since the undead in this setting are healed, not harmed, by disease, instead of a healing hug he offered them a care-rot.
You’ve probably heard of another powerful vegetable: this magic artifact, when read as a book, grants a variety of magical powers to the tips of your feet. Few have ever unlocked the full power of the legendary Tome-a-toe.
Since the elves make their home in the forest, they avoid fire magic in favor of vegetable spells. Don’t mess with their war mages though, you’ll still end up chard.
I recently found out that you can’t spend the entire game foreshadowing events with vegetable puns. It quickly gets cue-cumbersome.
There was once a crazy druid who wandered the lands in a custom wagon, held together by magically dominated insects. Yes, the wheels are bee-spoke.
Once the players wanted to be aristocrats so I let them play as Lord and Lady Baguette, the healthiest nobles in the land of dough. They got a rise out of being well bread that game.
Sometimes you just need some flavor text to round-out a dungeon map. Like the wizard’s tower, where the top floor was “The Laboratory”, the middle floor was his “Inner Sanctum” and the ground floor was “The Parlour”. And below that he stocked his crunchiest vegetables in “The Cellar-y”.
A common setting concerns dwarves who excavated below farms to steal root vegetables as they were still growing. Then they shipped them on trains back to the mountains. But you’ve probably already at least one such story of “beet rail”.
It’s not all medieval fantasy either. There’s one scenario where Robert Falcon Scott is mired down in Antarctica and the players are hired to get a large shipment of high density grains to his expedition. It’s called “Rice to the South Pole”.