The Farmer’s Folly
A tragic rural adventure of grief, creation, and moral ruin — written for TTRPGs, storytellers, and worldbuilders seeking atmospheric horror and quiet complexity.
Summary
At the edge of a lonely field stands the abandoned farm of Harl Vench, a widowed recluse once known for his strange experiments in alchemy and fungus. After losing his wife and child to fever, he turned inward — convinced that memory and decay were parts of the same cycle, and that life could be rewritten if one understood the mycelial patterns beneath all living things.
Beneath his barn, Harl constructed a secret stone laboratory where he grafted plants, animals, and fungus into hybrid creatures. Most died. A few lived on in unnatural shapes, forming a pitiful menagerie of crawling, blinking things. His greatest creation — a black bear he called Subject Twelve — endured dozens of grafts. It grew stronger, more aware, and began to mimic human gestures. Harl believed it was learning language. He wrote in his final notes, “He understands me. Soon, we will speak as one.”
That night, the bear broke free. It killed Harl, removed his brain, and mycelially bound it into its own skull — the same process Harl had used on his test subjects. Now the creature wanders below, confused, monstrous, and half-human. It remembers Harl’s grief, his voice, his isolation, and cannot tell where those memories end.
Above, the farmhouse stands silent. A green light glows from the barn’s cracks. The smell of fungus carries on the wind.
The Farmstead
The Approach
The Vench farm lies at the end of a rutted path, hemmed in by thistles and fog. The air is heavy with mildew and silence.
The surrounding fields are overgrown with pale weeds. A wagon lies half-sunk in the mud, its spilled grain sprouting with mushrooms. A sagging fence encloses nothing but weeds.
Closer inspection shows bootprints leading from the farmhouse toward the well, then circling back erratically before vanishing in the mud. A faint metallic smell hangs in the air. Near the barn doors, dark stains have seeped through the floorboards — old, dry, and wrong.
If anyone listens at the door, a faint wet creak can be heard beneath the earth — not quite mechanical, not quite alive.
Atmosphere: The land feels damp and hollow. There is a sense of stillness too deliberate to be natural.
Encounters:
A fungal crow with patchy feathers circles above the barn, repeating fragments of Harl’s voice: “Help… below… help…” It watches the intruders but never attacks, vanishing into the mist if pursued.
The Farmhouse
Inside, the world has been left mid-breath. A loaf of bread hardens on the table. A mug of milk has turned clear. The smell of vinegar and mold fills the air.
The rooms are cramped, filled with signs of Harl’s last days — discarded drafts, jars of powders, dried herbs. His journal lies open on a desk, pages covered in erratic handwriting:
“Decay is not an end but a return.
The mind too can take root again.
Subject Twelve dreams in symbols — bears remember the forest. I will guide him back.”
A loose board under the bed hides a locket showing a woman and child. Beneath it, a note:
“To make again what I have lost.”
Details:
- Furniture untouched; layer of fine mildew across everything.
- Faint brown stains at the back door but no trail leading outward.
- A smell of vinegar and something faintly sweet — as though the air itself were fermenting.
- Wax-sealed vials labeled Tincture of Renewal resting in a cupboard.
If tasted, roll d6:
| d6 | Effect |
|---|---|
| 1 | Gentle warmth, heals minor wounds. Skin glows faintly in moonlight for one night. |
| 2 | Colors sharpen and pulse; keen senses, uneasy calm. |
| 3 | Brief vision of Harl’s wife and daughter smiling. Then nausea. |
| 4 | Sudden clarity, immunity to fear for an hour, followed by exhaustion. |
| 5 | Dreamlike whisper: “Not ready.” Nothing else. |
| 6 | Harmless glowing spores expelled when the drinker breathes. |
These tinctures hint at Harl’s final goal — the reanimation of memory, not body.
The Barn
The doors sag inward. The smell is sweet and wrong — not manure but syrup and rot.
Pens stand empty, straw blackened with fungus. Tools glisten with strange resin. A crow with fused wings perches in the rafters. When approached, it croaks “Below… below…” and flaps away into darkness.
Beneath a pile of hay lies a heavy trapdoor sealed from below. The hinges are fused with rust and mycelium, and when broken, the gap exhales a cold fungal reek.
Trap:
Disturbing the latch triggers a puff of toxic spores (from a broken spore jar meant to deter intruders). Those nearby must resist or collapse coughing, vision blurred by phosphenes — brief afterimages of faces and claws. The air clears after a minute, leaving a strange taste of metal and soil.
Beneath, a stairwell descends into damp green light.
Beneath the Barn
The Descent
The steps are slick and uneven. Blue-green veins pulse faintly through the stone.
Water drips constantly. Strange fungal growths sprout like breathing organs from cracks. A rhythmic sound echoes — a slow dragging, sometimes mistaken for heartbeat.
Halfway down, claw marks appear in the wall. At the bottom: a door of warped planks reinforced with iron bands, cracked open from within.
The Entry Chamber
Glass jars line the shelves, filled with cloudy fluids and pale shapes that twitch when unseen.
Some jars have shattered, their contents staining the floor. Others pulse faintly with bioluminescent organs — failed grafts of frogs, mice, and beetles.
A worktable displays sketches of the bear’s anatomy interwoven with fungal filaments. The notes describe “cognitive mirroring” — transferring memory from one organism to another through living mycelial scaffolds.
Details:
- A cracked glass case labeled “Subject Twelve – responsive”.
- A child’s drawing tacked beside Harl’s notes — a bear and a little girl holding hands.
- The scent of vinegar and blood grows stronger toward the next chamber.
The Menagerie
The smell strikes first — rot and ammonia, fur and mildew.
Iron cages fill the chamber, most broken. The remaining ones hold half-living hybrids — animal carcasses grafted with fungus and still twitching.
Among them is the Fungal Hound, a lean, pale-furred dog whose eyes glow with gentle bioluminescence. When approached carefully, it does not attack — instead, it whines and crawls forward, licking at the air like it recognizes affection. It was one of Harl’s first partial successes and retains a docile temperament.
If shown kindness or given food, the hound follows the adventurers from this point onward, loyal and protective. Its ribs pulse with light, allowing it to illuminate dark spaces (10–15 feet of dim glow).
Fungal Hound Traits:
- Temperament: Gentle, loyal, easily startled by loud noise or bright flame.
- Combat (if forced): Bites (moderate damage), avoids killing; glows brighter when frightened.
- Special: Can sense rot, hidden fungus, or alchemical substances nearby. If injured, releases soothing spores that calm nearby animals and humanoids briefly.
Other cages contain:
- A spore-crow, pecking and repeating fragmented words: “Father… seed…”
- A spider-bloom, silent in its corner, lunging only when sudden light touches it.
Details:
Etched into a cage bar: “We dream of the surface.”
The Greenhouse Cavern
A vast chamber blooms with bioluminescent life. Towering mushrooms rise like pillars, their caps dripping glowing dew.
The air hums with a soft static. Vines move faintly as if breathing. Pools of water shimmer with color.
This was Harl’s proudest work — his “perfect ecology.” The spores here are semi-sentient, responding to sound and movement. When touched, they emit faint whispers in Harl’s voice — echoes recorded when he spoke to them during experiments.
A faint trail of blood leads to the next door — not from Harl, but from the bear’s first transformation, when its claws split and bled.
Disturbing the central growth releases a hallucinogenic mist that induces visions of family, sunlight, and home. Beneath that peace, something wet shifts behind the wall.
The Splicing Chamber
The heart of the experiment. The air here tastes like iron.
Tables are overturned, jars broken. A skull rests on a slab, the top cut clean away. The walls are streaked with dried blood and spore-moss.
From the far shadows, a shape stirs — massive, hunched, and bioluminescent beneath the skin. The creature turns, and for a moment, its eyes seem human.
The Vench Horror is what remains of Subject Twelve — the bear Harl raised and transformed. Its fur is patchy and veined with pale fungus. Where its skull should be is a fungal crown fused with bone; inside pulses Harl’s brain, webbed in living mycelium. It speaks in broken syllables of two voices — one guttural, one eerily human.
“Why… pain… why mother…”
Behavior:
- Shifts between lucidity and rage.
- Recognizes items tied to Harl (journal, locket) and hesitates when confronted with them.
- Flees from open flame or bright light, roaring like a wounded animal.
Combat & Traits:
- Strength of a bear; mycelial regeneration (delayed healing unless burned).
- Can exhale a choking spore cloud that blinds and confuses.
- Hates fire. Weakens if exposed to strong light or heat.
- Intelligence fractured; sometimes mutters coherent phrases of regret.
Revelation:
The Vench Horror absorbed Harl’s knowledge and grief. It believes it is both Harl and his creation, trapped between father and child. It may beg for death, lash out in terror, or plead for understanding.
The encounter can unfold as battle, mercy, or dialogue. None is simple — compassion and violence both have cost.
Aftermath
If Destroyed:
The creature collapses, ichor spilling from its chest as faint motes of spore-light rise like fireflies. The tunnels fall silent. Among the remains lie Harl’s spectacles, his key ring, and a final scrap of paper:
“He only wanted to live.”
If Spared:
The Vench Horror retreats into the dark, murmuring “Mother…” until its voice fades. Days later, pale growths bloom in the surrounding woods, faintly glowing in the rain.
If Escaped:
Weeks later, livestock are found half-transformed, villagers vanish, and rumors spread of a “man-bear” wandering under the harvest moon.
DM Notes
- The Fungal Hound is the natural reward — a loyal companion symbolizing life reclaimed from decay. Its glowing ribs can illuminate dark tunnels or warn of nearby corruption. It may even whine or tremble before future fungal dangers.
- The trapdoor spores should unsettle, not punish — a reminder that everything here breathes.
- The Vench Horror can express flashes of humanity — guilt, mourning, or fleeting tenderness. If it’s spared, it could reappear later, changed or seeking peace.
- Scatter fragments of Harl’s notes throughout the underground. When pieced together, they form his descent: curiosity → grief → denial → fusion.
- The Greenhouse Cavern offers quiet respite, but if the adventurers rest too long, the fungus begins echoing their thoughts.
- Optional: a cracked jar in the entry chamber labeled “Subject Eleven” — a hint that another experiment may have escaped into the wider world, leading to a neat future encounter.
- Tone should stay human and tragic — a man’s grief mirrored by his creation, not a grand tale of cosmic evil.