Picture this.

It's just past midday and the sun looms high overhead. The smell of fresh earth is all around, lingering in the air like a rich perfume. A lone figure stands in the middle of a rich soil, surveying the landscape around him.
The mighty barbarian leans on the thick wooden handle of his ancient, enchanted tilling hoe. As he reflects on his work, a hale and hardy-looking dwarf with an immense beard and cowhide leather armor emerges from the barn, a pail of milk held in each hand. He exchanges a knowing glance with the Barbarian.
Just then, the old wizard approaches, carrying a long, gnarled rake-staff and a fine velvet pouch filled to the brim with brightly-colored seeds. He begins to discuss plans for the new crop, when suddenly a commotion on the horizon catches the attention of the group.
The three turn to see an approaching horde of nomadic kobolds approaching, each brandishing copper implements, their leader wearing a bone and feather mask, holding a large glowing scythe over his head. The three party members hold their ground tensely, the Dwarf setting down his milk pails and calmly drawing his golden watering can. From atop the barn, behind the wide branches of a mighty oak, the halfling rogue crouches unseen with a watchful eye. He keeps his hand firmly on his leather satchel, filled with fine steel throwing trowels. The kobolds march forward unerringly, towards the group, clambering over the old wooden fence as they come.
Fifteen minutes later, the Kobolds and the group wave each other a warm goodbye as the nomads head off into the distance with a large sack of silverberries, glowroot, arobaro fruit, and milled onkweed. The Barbarian tests the heft of his new scythe with a proud smile.
The harvest will be good.