Your protagonist is the mother of a prophesied hero. She insists on tagging along on his/her epic journey. Bonus points if you don’t make her the stereotypical nagging mother.
Your protagonist gets trapped in the body of the most annoying animal s/he can possibly think of, a la Emperor’s New Groove (kind of).
Your protagonist has a choice: either drink a liquidized form of the most disgusting digestible thing s/he can think of, one cup a day for two weeks, or kill a death row prisoner.
Every member of your protagonist’s party speaks a different language and none of them have any spoken or written language in common. Now write them becoming best friends.
Your protagonist’s dream job is to be a royal taste tester for the king. So he studies every day, learns about both poisons and foods, and finally, he gets a job offer. It’s from a chef, not the king. But he takes it anyway, because he still thinks it’s pretty cool.
Magic is all hooked up to a sort of magical electric grid. That means the power can go out and everyone’s left to do their chores — er, epic battles — by hand.
A magic system that turns everything in the world into unlit wireframes for the user. This allows seeing through walls, finding weak points in structures, and most importantly, enhances architecture.
As a bandit, your protagonist gets to be on the unfortunate end of a “chosen hero’s” hit list. Since this hero is inevitably prophesied to save the world (and not die to a bandit), how does your bandit get what s/he wants out of him?
In a war of ideals, your hero must choose a side or die. The sides are: hamburgers or hot dogs.
When people in your world sleep, they enter a different, parallel world in which they’re completely different people doing completely different things.