This is the initial story hook and call to action for my upcoming TTRPG one-shot. Our last one-shot was a lighthearted comedy of errors. This one is a heist, and while I’m hoping to keep some of the humor, I want to add a level of challenge and emotion to it. It took longer than expected, but I’m happy with how it came out.
If my players enjoy the full adventure, I plan to package it into a PDF, find a cover artist, and publish it on DriveThruRPG.
Until then, if you like this story hook, feel free to use it in your home games.
I hope you enjoy!
You are a party of freelance recovery specialists, independent procurement agents, and hide-and-seek champions. In other words, thieves. And pretty good ones at that.
Truth be told, the only real difference between a good thief and a bad one is which side of the bars they happen to be standing on. Staying on the good side of those bars requires two things: powerful friends and a legitimate front. Luckily for you, you have the former, and they own the latter.
Between acquisition assignments, you are currently working the day shift at the Wink’n Nudge Pawn Shoppe. The affable half-ogre Thumbs holds court behind the register, an unassuming gentle giant who runs the shop with a charismatic smile, a slow temper, and a spiked mace behind the counter named Shame. He is your link to the owners, your clients, and the work that keeps you out of cells and coffins.
The large, two-story shop is packed with all manner of goods, from valuable antiques to secondhand curios and half-forgotten junk, with rarer and less than legal wares tucked away in the back for discerning clientele. At the moment, you are restocking shelves, counting inventory, or simply keeping an eye on a few potentially sticky-fingered customers.
It is a typical day, and the store is busy. Shoppers wander the aisles, deals are whispered and argued over, and a small line has formed at the counter as locals and drifters alike try to turn their belongings into quick coin.
Then a well-dressed young man enters the shop.
He checks over his shoulder as he closes the door and looks around nervously. He sticks out like a sore thumb amongst your usual clientele. He glances toward the counter, his eyes growing wide as he sees Thumbs towering at his perch, then slowly makes his way to the back of the line.
When his turn comes, he steps to the counter wiping the sweat from his brow. He looks around to make sure he is not overheard before sliding a slip of paper bearing a familiar emblem across the counter.
“Are you Mr. Thumbs?” he whispers.
“It’s Thurman, actually,” replies the half-ogre in his deep, rumbling voice. He takes the slip of paper and examines it closely with a glass-domed paperweight he slides over it. After a brief inspection, he tucks it away and smiles. “What can I do for you, Mr. Ashecroft?”
The young man looks at the other customers milling about the store with a worried expression. “Is there somewhere else we could speak?”
Thumbs smiles. “As you wish.” He gives a nod to his associates to come to the counter, then reaches beneath it and produces a snow globe. He gives it a shake and places it on the counter. A shimmering barrier expands in a sphere around them, encompassing the young man, Thumbs, and any of you nearby.
“You may speak freely, young Ashecroft.”
“Are you sure? Wait, how did you… nevermind. Is this,” he gestures at the bubble, “safe?”
“You’ve nothing to worry about. What can be done for you? Speak quickly. I have other customers.”
“Yes, right. I must apologize, it may be a rather long story. My father was an alchemist. His name was Ebrin Ashecroft. Have you heard of him?”
“Indeed I have. Your father was a good man. I met him once.”
“Yes, he was. Thank you for saying that.”
The young man takes a steadying breath.
“He was a great alchemist. People came from every corner of the world for his work. Even the king and queen commissioned him. Business grew so successful that he had to bring in more workers and eventually take on a partner to meet demand. That’s when he met Alice Crowfell. They had differing opinions, but she was extraordinarily talented. She was the first person my father felt to be his equal.
“But he had one rule. One principle above all others. He would never create anything that could be used to hurt anyone. This vexed the monarchy greatly. They never stopped asking him to provide wares for their soldiers. But so respected was he that they never forced the issue. The potions, salves, and tinctures he did provide saved countless lives among their forces, healing them, bolstering their resolve and endurance. But he would never make something that directly inflicted harm.
“This was the main point of contention between him and Alice. She kept trying to convince him that he could be rich and successful beyond his wildest dreams if he only relaxed his principles a little. Every time, he would tell her he already was richer and more successful than any of his wildest dreams, because of my mother and me. Anything else was secondary.
“This drove Alice mad. My father didn’t see it, but my mother did. The resentment building day by day. Alice thought she could do things better.
“Then one day, my father disappeared.”
The young man pauses, composing himself.
“No one could prove anything. The royal guard investigated but found no evidence of foul play. No body. Nothing. But my mother and I knew. We knew Alice had something to do with it.
“It became obvious when, the moment the investigation closed, she produced a contract signed in my father’s hand and bound by his alchemical seal, bequeathing everything to her. The business. The shop. Even our home. We were marched out into the street with little more than the clothes on our backs. We never even had a funeral. There was nothing to bury and no home in which to receive mourners.
“My mother could not bear the shame. She had nowhere else to go, so she took odd jobs to keep a roof over our heads until she could earn passage for us to travel to her sister’s home on the coast. My aunt was kind to us. We wanted for nothing, save for my father to still be alive.
“As I grew up, I followed in his footsteps, building on what he taught me as a child. I pursued the alchemical arts as he did. While I am not my father, nor do I possess his brilliance, I have done well for myself. Well enough that I now have the means to come to you for one selfish thing.”
He steadies himself again.
“When we were forced from our home, we were not allowed to pack or bring anything with us. There was only one thing I wanted. The last thing my father ever gave me. A puzzle box. He made it himself by hand. I need you to get it for me.
“I know she has it. She would take great joy in keeping it as a prize of her victory.
“I tried to retrieve it myself, but while we were gone, Alice sold the old shop, demolished our home, and built a new estate with the profits of her vile weaponized concoctions. Now the grounds are a museum to her arrogance that visitors must walk through to reach the storefront of Crowfell Esotérique. The manor lies beyond the courtyard at the rear. There used to be a hidden path through the woods behind the property, but when I tried to use it, I found it had been sealed. They must have discovered it when they tore down the original house.
“I am begging you. Please. Get the puzzle box for me.”
He places a wooden puzzle box of his own on the counter and opens it. Inside is a drawing of an even more ornate puzzle box, which he hands to Thumbs. He then reaches into the box and presses certain spots in sequence, opening a series of latches. This continues for several moments until he closes the lid. A whir of gears comes from within, and the box begins to unfold itself, revealing a large, magical hole big enough to lower oneself into. Within is a pallet stacked high with gold and silver bars. He quickly closes it back up and slides it across the counter.
Thurmen smiles. “Young Mr. Ashecroft. I believe we have an arrangement. It will be an honor to do a service for the son of the great Ebrin Ashecroft.”
“Really? I mean, thank you! Thank you! Wait, I’m sorry. I do have two conditions… sir.”
“And those are?”
“First, if you find the puzzle box, do not open it. The contents must remain hidden. Second, and most importantly, I will not have blood on my hands, even by proxy. My father would never forgive me. No one can be killed or seriously injured. Not even Alice. That is the seal I have placed upon this treasure. Do we have an accord?”
Thumbs holds out his hand. The young man shakes it.
“It will be done. You may take leave now, young Mr. Ashecroft.”
The young man takes a deep breath, nods, and takes his leave.
If you are new here and would like to explore more of what I have written or what I am working on, you can find most everything here.
If you find something you enjoy, please consider sharing it with others. That is what stories are for.
Mason Beck Fiction 
Leave a comment