Setting: The agricultural hinterland. Fields of grain and rootcrop, isolated farmsteads, an insular and superstitious folk. Roll d10.
1: A man and his ox are plowing a field; rather than straight furrows, he is plowing an enormous sigil of unknown import.
2: A family with torches is burning a field of unharvested grain.
3: Skeins of honking geese fly overhead in V formation, attacking each other.
4: A posse of drunken farmhands rides up, seeking some unknowable fugitive.
5: A strange rainsquall passes, dropping boneless and formless sea creatures deep inland.
6: In this part of the country, the custom is that condemned criminals, rather than be hanged, are lashed to stakes and left out as scarecrows.
7: A procession of serfs is heading down the road toward the priory, celebrating and holding aloft a parsnip shaped like a baby.
8: A farmstead has fallen into genteel ruin save for the smokehouse, which emits a plume of thin blue smoke.
9: A woman stands by a well, dropping food into it.
10: A creep of bugbears has taken over a farm and are playing at being farmers, dressed in the original inhabitants’ clothing and making mock of farmwork. Inside the dwelling is, well, exactly what you would expect.