“ The mage who invented teleportation knew nothing about the ten-dimensional cosmos, so was perplexed that the subjects sent through the portal arrived horribly scrambled, having been randomly rotated through several of the hidden six dimensions.”
“ The party receives a poorly written call for aid from a nearby mountain community. When they arrive, the town is overrun by trolls, but where are the villagers?”
“ The accepted mode of getting otherwise unobtainable information is to go visit the cranky old hermit living in the mountains. It's just the sensible thing to do. So, naturally, everyone takes their monthly excursion to the hermit's hovel to consult him on everything, from lock-jaw to lovesickness, necromancers to nasal viruses.
Now, if everyone's always visiting the poor old hermit, there's going to be an enormous queue... 'Wellcome to the Hermitt's Hovele, Please Take Ye a Number and Have Ye a Seate' reads the sign outside the packed dwelling.
Imagine the poor hermit, having retreated into the mountains to escape this precise situation...”