Not all that far east of Wheloon in Cormyr is a small, backroads farm, the holding of one Nars Thormil, that has started to attract some local attention for the steady stream of fat thimdrors it’s turning out, all of them bound for the best eateries in Saerloon.
Thimdrors are a breed of oxen that are small, broad-shouldered, splay-footed, and ugly, with bald, triangular, almost reptilian-looking heads. Terrifically strong but short and stupid, they long ago fell out of favor as draft beasts, but when worked steadily they yield marbled meat that’s highly prized by hearthroasters everywhere.
Many of Thormil’s neighbors breed and work thimdrors, then sell them to buyers who come by regularly from nearby cities in Cormyr and neighboring Sembia. It’s no great surprise that the quiet, reclusive Thormil—who bought a small, run-down farm from the aging, childless widow of Hargon Steelhond, a retired Purple Dragon veteran—would take to rearing thimdrors, too.