Hobbyhorse of the Merry Cavalier

Aura faint transmutation; CL 5th
Slot —; Price 16,000 gp; Weight 3 lb.

DESCRIPTION

At first glance, this item appears to be nothing more than a finely crafted wooden hobbyhorse mounted upon a polished ash pole. Speaking the command word while straddling the hobbyhorse causes both it and its rider to rise smoothly into the air until the rider sits at approximately the same height they would atop a Medium riding horse. Although no physical horse exists beneath the rider, an invisible magical force supports both rider and mount.

Once activated, the Hobbyhorse of the Merry Cavalier functions as a perfectly trained light horse. It responds instantly to the rider's spoken commands and body movements, allowing it to walk, trot, canter, gallop, stop, back, turn, leap, and maneuver with all the grace and responsiveness of a living mount. The hobbyhorse has a land speed of 60 feet and may run at ×4 speed.

The hobbyhorse occupies the same space as a Medium mount and grants its rider all the normal benefits and penalties of mounted combat, except where those benefits require the mount itself to make attacks. The hobbyhorse cannot make hoof attacks, trample, overrun, or otherwise attack creatures. It is never considered combat-trained.

The hobbyhorse remains no more than 5 feet above the nearest solid surface beneath it. It traverses hills, stairs, ramps, bridges, shallow water, uneven ground, and similar terrain exactly as though invisible legs carried it. It cannot climb vertical surfaces, leap farther than a normal horse, or move into an area where no supporting surface exists within 5 feet below. It is not capable of true flight.

The hobbyhorse can carry up to 300 pounds, including the rider and all equipment. It never tires and requires no food, water, sleep, or rest. Because it is not a living creature, it is immune to fear, poison, disease, mind-affecting effects, ability damage, ability drain, death effects, and any effect requiring a Fortitude save unless that effect also affects objects.

The hobbyhorse is a magical object with hardness 5 and 10 hit points. It may be attacked normally while active or inactive. If reduced to 0 hit points while activated, its enchantment immediately fails. If it is within 20 feet of a solid surface, it gently lowers its rider to the ground before collapsing into a broken, nonmagical wooden toy. If no suitable surface exists within 20 feet, or if circumstances prevent a safe descent, the rider falls normally from their current height. Once destroyed, the Hobbyhorse of the Merry Cavalier permanently loses its magical properties and cannot be repaired by mundane or magical means; a new item must be crafted.

Speaking the command word a second time dismisses the enchantment. The hobbyhorse gently lowers its rider to the ground before returning to its ordinary, toy-like appearance. Activating or dismissing the hobbyhorse is a standard action.

LORE

Legends disagree on who first conceived the impossible notion of riding a child's toy into earnest adventure. Some claim it was the work of a court jester determined to humble a vain king who judged worth solely by appearances. Others insist the enchantment originated with a practical wizard who sought a mount requiring neither stable nor fodder. Gnomish storytellers, however, simply grin and suggest that perhaps both tales are true.

Though its appearance invites laughter, seasoned travelers have long recognized the item's remarkable practicality. The hobbyhorse never throws a shoe, never bolts in fear, never requires grooming, and never complains after days of continuous travel. Couriers, wandering performers, hedge wizards, and adventurous children grown into adventurous adults have all found reasons to treasure the humble wooden steed.

Many owners report an unexpected consequence of carrying the hobbyhorse. Villagers who might otherwise greet a heavily armed traveler with suspicion often find themselves smiling instead. Even the sternest gate guards have been known to suppress a laugh as a fully armored knight trots confidently toward them atop what appears to be nothing more than a carved stick. In dangerous times, a moment of shared laughter can prove as valuable as enchanted steel.

CONSTRUCTION

Requirements Craft Wondrous Item, phantom steed; Cost 8,000 gp + 640 XP

KELWYN'S NOTES

I have encountered dragons with impeccable manners, demons capable of polite conversation, and kings possessing all the wisdom of spoiled geese. Experience has therefore taught me never to judge a thing by how ridiculous it first appears. The Hobbyhorse of the Merry Cavalier is a splendid example of this principle.

Many apprentices believe powerful magic must always cloak itself in grandeur. They carve dragons into their staffs, adorn their robes with stars, and insist every incantation be delivered as though addressing the heavens. Then along comes some cheerful enchanter who places years of arcane study into a child's toy and quietly rides past them while they are still saddling their horses.

I confess there is a certain elegance in removing every unnecessary complication from the notion of a mount. No feeding. No grooming. No mucking stalls. No frightened animal shying from fireballs or roaring monsters. The enchantment preserves every useful quality of horseback travel while dispensing with those inconveniences that stablemasters have accepted for centuries.

I have also observed that the rider's dignity survives only if the rider chooses to let it. Those who blush, apologize, or attempt to explain themselves become the subject of every jest. Those who sit proudly, offer a courteous nod, and continue on their journey soon discover that confidence has a curious way of silencing mockery. People are remarkably reluctant to laugh at someone who is plainly enjoying the joke more than they are.

So should fate ever place one of these delightful contrivances into your hands, mount it with a smile. Ride boldly through the marketplace. Tip your hat to the onlookers. There is profound magic in refusing to let embarrassment govern your actions. A brave soul upon a hobbyhorse will travel much farther than a fearful soul upon the finest stallion ever bred.

Fork of Profuse Puncturing

Aura Moderate Transmutation; CL 10th
Slot —; Price 18,302 gp; Weight 1 lb.

DESCRIPTION

At first glance, this appears to be nothing more than a perfectly ordinary steel dinner fork. It bears no gemstones, no gilding, no elaborate engravings, and no indication whatsoever that it is magical. It is balanced surprisingly well, however, and somehow feels entirely natural in the hand despite being unmistakably a piece of tableware.

The Fork of Profuse Puncturing functions as a +1 keen wounding fork. Treat it as a dagger in all respects, except that it deals 1d4 points of piercing damage and resembles an utterly mundane eating utensil. It threatens a critical hit on a 17-20 and deals double damage on a successful critical hit. Every successful hit also bestows 1 point of Constitution bleed damage, as described by the wounding special ability. The fork can be thrown with a range increment of 10 feet and may be used in melee or as a thrown weapon exactly as a dagger.

Despite its absurd appearance, the fork is fully capable of bypassing damage reduction and interacting with feats, class abilities, and magical effects exactly as though it were a dagger.

LORE

Legends claim the first of these bizarre weapons was created after two rival archmages spent an entire royal banquet arguing whether enchantment cared about dignity. One insisted that legendary power belonged only in legendary weapons. The other quietly enchanted the nearest dinner fork.

When a challenger mocked the ridiculous utensil and accepted a duel, witnesses expected a brief comedy. Instead, the enchanted fork carved through armor with uncanny precision, leaving wounds that refused to close. The duel ended quickly, and the laughter stopped even more quickly.

Today, surviving Forks of Profuse Puncturing are treasured by pranksters, assassins, eccentric nobles, and adventurers with an irrepressible sense of humor. Veterans know better than to laugh when someone confidently points a fork at them.

CONSTRUCTION

Requirements Craft Magic Arms and Armor, keen edge, rage, creator must be at least 10th level; Cost 9,302 gp + 720 XP

Kelwyn's Notes

I have spent centuries cataloging artifacts capable of leveling castles, slaying dragons, or reshaping kingdoms. It is therefore deeply irritating that one of the more memorable magical weapons in my collection is, beyond all argument, a dining utensil.

Many apprentices laugh upon seeing it. They invariably ask whether it is meant as a joke. I encourage them to hold that opinion until after the first sparring match. Education often arrives with several inconvenient puncture wounds.

There exists a dangerous misconception that appearances determine capability. The universe has never shared that opinion. A fork may become a weapon, a shepherd may become a king, and a peasant's walking stick may someday carry enough enchantment to humble a tyrant. Reality possesses a delightfully wicked sense of irony.

I confess I have carried this fork to diplomatic dinners on several occasions. No threats were made, yet negotiations tended to proceed with remarkable civility once everyone realized I had absentmindedly set my enchanted utensil beside my plate. It is astonishing how polite people become when cutlery is demonstrably lethal.

Should you ever discover one of these curiosities, resist the temptation to ask why anyone would create such a thing. The better question is why anyone believed they could not. Magic has never been constrained by common sense, and I have long since stopped expecting it to begin.

Giant's Cudgel

Aura strong transmutation; CL 12th
Slot none; Price 32,000 gp; Weight 3 lb.

DESCRIPTION

Fashioned from a single length of seasoned hardwood, a Giant's Cudgel is almost aggressively unremarkable. It bears no precious metals, no polished gemstones, and no elaborate carvings beyond the occasional maker's mark burned into the butt of the grip. Many are mistaken for simple walking sticks or common militia clubs until their enchantment is revealed.

Rather than altering the wielder's strength or increasing the club's physical size, the enchantment manipulates momentum itself. For the briefest instant before impact, the weapon carries the crushing force of a hill giant's mighty swing while remaining no heavier than an ordinary club. The effect is invisible save for a faint shudder in the air and the unmistakable sound of timber striking with impossible force.

A Giant's Cudgel functions as a +2 club.

Whenever a Medium or smaller wielder successfully strikes a target with the weapon, the club deals 2d8 points of bludgeoning damage, as though it were a Huge club wielded without penalty. This replaces the club's normal damage dice and is not increased or decreased by the wielder's size. Apply the wielder's Strength modifier, enhancement bonus, feats, and all other applicable modifiers normally.

If wielded by a Large or larger creature, the Giant's Cudgel instead functions as a normal +2 club of the appropriate size for that creature.

The weapon is treated as magic for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction.

CONSTRUCTION

Requirements Craft Magic Arms and Armor, bull's strength, righteous might, telekinesis; Cost 16,000 gp and 1,280 XP

LORE

Hill giant folklore tells of a contest between the giant champion Hrokk One-Tree and an elderly human hedge wizard who claimed that wisdom could overcome brute strength. Hrokk uprooted a young oak with a single hand and challenged the old man to match the feat. The wizard merely picked up a fallen branch and, with one effortless swing, split the giant's tree cleanly in half. Rather than taking offense, Hrokk burst into laughter and declared that any human capable of such trickery deserved to share a giant's strength.

Whether the tale is fact or embellishment, the earliest known Giant's Cudgels appeared soon afterward in the hands of caravan guards, foresters, and wandering pilgrims. Their humble appearance made them ideal traveling companions, for few thieves coveted a weathered club leaning against a wagon wheel. Those same thieves often learned their mistake in painful fashion.

Modern arcanists remain divided over the weapon's true function. Some insist the cudgel briefly channels giantish might directly into the blow. Others maintain that the enchantment bends the laws governing inertia for only a heartbeat, allowing an object of modest mass to strike as though it weighed hundreds of pounds. The distinction has fueled centuries of debate in magical academies, though those who have stood on the receiving end generally agree that the finer points of theory become remarkably unimportant.

KELWYN'S NOTES

One eventually discovers that appearances possess extraordinary influence over intelligent creatures. Present a jeweled hammer glowing with runes and your opponent immediately begins calculating how to survive it. Present an ordinary walking stick and they begin calculating whether they can take it from you. The latter assumption is often the more dangerous.

I have watched seasoned veterans ignore a Giant's Cudgel entirely while meticulously cataloging every enchanted blade displayed upon a merchant's rack. They searched for brilliance and overlooked simplicity. Magic has always delighted in rewarding precisely that sort of arrogance.

The enchantment itself demonstrates admirable restraint. It does not seek spectacle. It does not transform the bearer into a giant, nor burden them with impossible weight. Instead, it accomplishes one task with exceptional precision: ensuring that when wood finally meets flesh, stone, or steel, the universe behaves as though something vastly larger had delivered the blow.

There is a lesson there that extends well beyond the study of transmutation. Great accomplishments seldom require becoming something else entirely. More often they require learning how to apply one's existing strengths without waste or hesitation. Efficiency, not excess, has always been the quieter sibling of mastery.

Should fate ever place a Giant's Cudgel into your hands, cherish its anonymity. Resist every temptation to gild it, engrave it, or decorate it until it resembles the trophy of a vain nobleman. Let others dismiss it as an ordinary stick. Surprise, after all, is among the most reliable allies any adventurer is ever likely to possess.

Canine Barding

Scout's Harness (Canine Barding)

Cost: 40 gp
Armor Bonus: +2
Max Dex Bonus: +6
Armor Check Penalty: 0
Arcane Spell Failure: 10%
Speed: Unchanged
Weight: 12 lb.

Fashioned from thick boiled leather stained dark brown or russet, the Scout's Harness protects a dog's chest, shoulders and neck while leaving its legs and joints completely free. Soft suede lining prevents chafing during long marches, while sturdy brass buckles allow the harness to be fitted or removed quickly. Reinforced rings along the back provide attachment points for a lead, saddlebags or other equipment.

Designed for hunting hounds, messengers and scouts, the harness emphasizes mobility over maximum protection. Its high-cut shoulder openings permit a full running stride, allowing the animal to sprint, leap and climb with little restriction.

The Scout's Harness is considered light armor.

Ranger's Barding (Canine Barding)

Cost: 300 gp
Armor Bonus: +4
Max Dex Bonus: +5
Armor Check Penalty: -1
Arcane Spell Failure: 20%
Speed: Unchanged
Weight: 24 lb.

The Ranger's Barding combines thick boiled leather with riveted chainmail to provide exceptional protection while preserving a war dog's agility. A reinforced leather breastplate shields the chest and shoulders, while curtains of finely linked mail protect the throat, flanks and lower ribs. A broad leather spine guard distributes weight evenly across the animal's back without restricting movement.

Every surface likely to rub against the dog is padded with soft leather, and carefully placed articulation points allow the armor to flex naturally with every stride. Numerous attachment rings permit the mounting of packs, bedrolls or other field equipment.

Favored by military scouts, wardens and adventurers who rely upon trained companions, the Ranger's Barding offers an excellent balance between protection and mobility.

The Ranger's Barding is considered light armor.

Heavy War Barding (Canine Barding)

Cost: 800 gp
Armor Bonus: +5
Max Dex Bonus: +3
Armor Check Penalty: -3
Arcane Spell Failure: 30%
Speed: Reduced by 10 ft.
Weight: 36 lb.

At first glance, Heavy War Barding appears to be an exceptionally well-crafted leather harness. Hidden beneath its thick outer shell, however, are dozens of overlapping steel plates riveted between layers of hardened leather in the manner of a brigandine. This construction provides far greater protection than leather alone while remaining considerably more flexible than solid plate armor.

The armor covers the chest, shoulders, ribs and spine, with an articulated mail curtain protecting the throat and an optional mail apron safeguarding the abdomen. Broad padded straps distribute the weight comfortably across the animal's frame, while heavy forged buckles ensure the barding remains secure even during violent combat.

Heavy War Barding is intended for mastiffs, war hounds and similar animals expected to fight on the front lines alongside their handlers.

The Heavy War Barding is considered medium armor.

Collar of the Wolf

Aura Moderate transmutation; CL 9th
Slot Neck (animal only); Price See Table; Weight 1 lb.

DESCRIPTION

The Collar of the Wolf is a series of enchanted leather collars designed to enhance the natural bite of canines and other creatures that rely upon their jaws in battle. Each collar is fashioned from thick, supple leather fitted with a polished silver clasp depicting the head of a snarling wolf. Delicate runes are etched into the clasp and continue around the collar's inner band. More powerful collars bear increasingly intricate engravings, though all share the unmistakable craftsmanship of the same ancient tradition.

When worn by a creature possessing a natural bite attack, the collar causes that attack to be treated as a magic weapon for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction. In addition, the bite attack's damage increases by the number of steps indicated on the table below, following the standard D&D 3.5 weapon damage progression used for increasing weapon size. Only the creature's natural bite attack is affected; the collar grants no benefit to claws, gore attacks, slams, manufactured weapons, or any other form of attack.

Only one Collar of the Wolf functions on a creature at any given time. Wearing multiple collars provides no additional benefit.

Collar	Damage Increase	Typical 1d4 Bite	Market Price
Collar of the Wolf	+1 step	1d6	2,000 gp
Collar of the Dire Wolf	+2 steps	1d8	8,000 gp
Collar of the Winter Wolf	+3 steps	1d10	18,000 gp
Collar of the Worg	+4 steps	2d6	32,000 gp
Collar of the First Wolf	+5 steps	2d8	50,000 gp

A creature whose bite attack normally deals damage other than 1d4 increases its damage by the same number of steps using the standard weapon damage progression.

LORE

Although many assume these collars were created by druids, the oldest surviving examples display enchanting techniques more commonly associated with master artificers than guardians of the wild. Their makers evidently believed that a faithful animal companion deserved enchantments every bit as potent as those bestowed upon a knight's sword or a wizard's staff. Rather than altering the nature of the beast, the collars simply awaken the full potential already present within tooth, muscle, and instinct.

The collars are traditionally named after increasingly formidable canines known throughout legend and folklore. Beginning with the common wolf, each successive enchantment honors a creature of greater strength and renown until the series culminates in the Collar of the First Wolf. Whether this mysterious progenitor truly existed or merely symbolizes the untamed spirit from which all wolves descend remains a matter of spirited debate among sages, druids, and storytellers alike.

These collars have found homes around the necks of humble sheepdogs, disciplined war hounds, steadfast animal companions, and even the occasional wolf willing to trust a mortal. Veterans often remark that the collars possess a curious quality beyond their enchantment. Animals wearing them seem no more aggressive than before, yet they display an unmistakable confidence in battle, as though the magic reassures them that their courage will never be wasted when defending those they have chosen to protect.

CONSTRUCTION

Requirements Craft Wondrous Item, greater magic fang; Cost See Table

Collar	Cost to Create
Collar of the Wolf	1,000 gp + 80 XP
Collar of the Dire Wolf	4,000 gp + 320 XP
Collar of the Winter Wolf	9,000 gp + 720 XP
Collar of the Worg	16,000 gp + 1,280 XP
Collar of the First Wolf	25,000 gp + 2,000 XP

KELWYN'S NOTES

One of the more curious habits of adventurers is their willingness to invest princely sums enchanting the weapons they carry while expecting the faithful creatures that accompany them to rely upon little more than breeding and bravery. It is a peculiar inconsistency. A seasoned hound may guard a sleeping camp for years without complaint, follow a trail invisible to every member of the party, and interpose itself between its master and mortal danger without hesitation. Yet when the time comes to divide the treasure, the poor beast is often rewarded with a strip of dried meat while everyone else debates the relative merits of enchanted steel.

The Collar of the Wolf has always struck me as an enchantment born not of vanity, but of gratitude. Its magic does not compel greater ferocity, nor does it awaken bloodlust within a gentle companion. Rather, it grants every bite the certainty one imagines nature herself intended before compromise and survival tempered her designs. The wearer does not become a monster. It simply becomes a finer example of the loyal guardian it has always chosen to be.

I have observed several examples over the centuries, and each has shared a curious characteristic. The animals themselves seem blissfully unaware that anything extraordinary has occurred. They neither posture nor seek unnecessary conflict. A dog wearing such a collar still greets familiar faces with an enthusiastic wag of the tail, still chases thrown sticks with embarrassing determination, and still regards a kind word from its master as reward enough. The magic strengthens the jaws, but it leaves the heart delightfully untouched. I consider that a far greater accomplishment than any increase in damage could ever represent.

The Collar of the Worg and the exceedingly rare Collar of the First Wolf are another matter entirely. Their workmanship surpasses mere craftsmanship and approaches artistry of the highest order. I have examined only one example of the latter, and I departed with more questions than answers. The runes appeared subtly different each time I studied them, as though they reflected not the light about them, but the memories of every faithful beast that had ever worn the collar. Such observations are, admittedly, difficult to verify, though I confess I have long since ceased dismissing impossible things merely because they decline to behave sensibly.

If fortune ever places one of these collars in your possession, remember that it is not the leather, nor the silver, nor even the enchantment that gives the relic its greatest worth. Those are merely tools. The true magic lies in the quiet bond between a person and the creature that chooses to walk beside them without expectation of glory, wealth, or recognition. Any fool may purchase a stronger bite. Loyalty, however, remains among the rarest treasures ever granted to this world, and no wizard - however accomplished - has yet devised a spell capable of creating it.

Amulet of the Honest Heart

Aura Strong divination and enchantment; CL 13th
Slot Neck; Price 54,000 gp; Weight —

DESCRIPTION

Fashioned from polished silver in the shape of an open eye enclosed within a heart, this elegant amulet is warm to the touch and seems to pulse faintly whenever spoken words carry great emotional weight. Tiny runes etched around its edge cannot be deciphered by mundane means, yet every wearer instinctively understands one simple truth the moment the amulet is donned: truth demands a price.

While worn, the amulet grants its bearer supernatural certainty whenever they hear a deliberate falsehood spoken by another creature. Whenever the wearer can hear and understand a spoken statement made by a creature within 60 feet, they instantly know whether that specific statement is an intentional lie. This ability functions continuously and requires no action, concentration, or activation. It penetrates magical disguises, mundane deception, illusions, enchantments, and even effects such as glibness, provided the speaker knowingly communicates something false.

The amulet does not reveal the truth behind a lie, expose omissions, determine motives, or distinguish sarcasm from sincerity. A creature stating something it genuinely believes to be true, even if factually incorrect, does not register as lying.

The gift is inseparably bound to a supernatural compulsion toward honesty. While wearing the amulet, the bearer cannot knowingly communicate false information in any form. Spoken words fail, written falsehoods refuse to form, magical messages cannot contain intentional lies, and any attempt to deceive is involuntarily altered into a truthful statement or ends in silence.

The wearer automatically fails any Bluff check made to deceive another creature, including feinting in combat. The wearer may still withhold information, refuse to answer questions, speak ambiguously, or remain silent. Removing the amulet immediately ends both its benefits and its restrictions.

LORE

Legends speak of an ornament known among judges and magistrates as the Honest Heart. Though descriptions of its appearance vary from culture to culture, every account agrees upon two remarkable qualities. Its bearer becomes incapable of being deceived by deliberate falsehood, yet loses the ability to utter one themselves. Many have sought such a relic believing it to be the perfect instrument of justice, only to discover that truth is often far more difficult to wield than deceit.

In Ville des Marai, one tale attributes the first amulet to a grieving widow whose husband was executed after false testimony secured his conviction. Refusing to allow another innocent life to be stolen through lies, she commissioned priests, witches, and arcane scholars to create a relic capable of exposing every deliberate deception. Their enchantment succeeded beyond expectation. The widow spent the remainder of her life serving as an impartial arbiter whose judgments were never questioned, though she became increasingly isolated as friends and nobles alike learned that even the smallest polite lie was impossible in her presence.

Some philosophers reject the notion that the amulet bears any curse at all. They argue that absolute discernment and absolute honesty are merely two halves of the same principle. To perceive truth perfectly while remaining free to manipulate it would invite corruption beyond measure. Thus, they claim, the amulet does not punish its wearer - it simply demands that anyone entrusted with perfect knowledge of lies must also become incapable of creating them.

CONSTRUCTION

Requirements Craft Wondrous Item, discern lies, zone of truth, geas/quest; Cost 27,000 gp + 2,160 XP

Kelwyn's Notes

Many adventurers see an object such as this and immediately imagine interrogations, criminal investigations, and dramatic courtroom confessions. That is because they imagine lies as rare things uttered only by villains. Spend a single afternoon wearing this amulet in any bustling marketplace and that illusion evaporates with astonishing speed. Merchants exaggerate, children invent excuses, lovers flatter one another, and politicians breathe. One quickly discovers that falsehood is woven through civilization in threads both dark and surprisingly gentle.

I have long maintained that deception is neither wholly evil nor wholly virtuous. A physician may reassure a frightened patient. A parent may soften a painful truth for a child. A diplomat may spare thousands of lives through carefully measured words that reveal less than the whole picture. This amulet grants no wisdom to distinguish kindness from manipulation. It merely announces that a lie has been spoken and forbids its bearer from answering with one of their own.

I once encountered a magistrate who wore such an amulet for nearly twenty years. His reputation became legendary, and litigants traveled hundreds of miles simply to have their disputes heard before him. Yet the poor fellow confessed that he dreaded attending social gatherings more than presiding over murder trials. Friends stopped inviting him to dinner because every conversation became an exercise in uncomfortable sincerity.

The clever soon learn that silence remains a powerful companion. One need not answer every question. One need not volunteer every unpleasant fact. There exists an enormous difference between deception and discretion, and those who master that distinction often become remarkably effective negotiators despite the amulet's restrictions. In truth, I suspect the relic teaches restraint every bit as much as honesty.

Would I wear it? Only for the briefest of moments, and only when the stakes justified such sacrifice. There are times when discovering a single deliberate lie may avert a war or expose a monstrous conspiracy. There are equally many moments when compassion requires gentleness rather than relentless candor. The amulet possesses no judgment of its own. It merely places truth in one's hands and leaves wisdom to determine what should be done with it.

Wheel of Endless Brie

Aura moderate conjuration; CL 9th
Slot —; Price 18,000 gp; Weight 5 lbs.

DESCRIPTION

At first glance, this item appears to be an enormous wheel of pale golden brie wrapped in a flawless wax rind. The cheese is always cool to the touch and never spoils, regardless of age or environmental conditions. It emits a rich, buttery aroma that is pleasantly inviting to humanoids yet does not attract vermin or scavengers.

Once per day, the wielder may activate the Wheel of Endless Brie by speaking its command word as a standard action. For the next 10 minutes, the wheel continuously replenishes itself as portions are removed. During this time, the wheel can produce enough nourishing cheese to feed up to 100 Medium creatures. Any creature that spends at least 1 minute consuming the cheese receives nourishment equivalent to a full day's meals and gains the benefits of a goodberry spell, healing 1 hit point. A creature can benefit from this healing only once per day, regardless of how much cheese it consumes.

Sharing a meal from the wheel inspires fellowship and goodwill. Any creature that eats at least three servings gains a +2 morale bonus on Diplomacy checks for 1 hour. In addition, domesticated animals eagerly accept the cheese as a treat, granting the bearer a +4 circumstance bonus on Handle Animal checks made while offering portions from the wheel.

At the conclusion of the 10-minute duration, the wheel immediately returns to its original size. Any slices removed during the activation remain mundane, wholesome cheese indefinitely, but any magical properties they possess fade after 24 hours. The Wheel of Endless Brie cannot be activated again until the following dawn.

LORE

The first Wheel of Endless Brie was commissioned by Duchess Élodie de Fromage, a noblewoman whose estates bordered the fertile grazing lands of western Da'Ma. Believing that no traveler should ever be turned away hungry, she employed a circle of conjurers, druids, and master cheesemakers to create a feast that could sustain entire villages through the lean months. The resulting enchantment proved so successful that the duchess's annual harvest festivals became legendary throughout the kingdom.

Today, Wheels of Endless Brie are prized not only by wealthy households but also by military quartermasters, charitable temples, and adventuring companies preparing for long expeditions. A single wheel can transform a desperate refugee camp into a place of comfort, or keep an isolated mountain outpost well-fed through an unforgiving winter. Many rulers consider ownership of one to be both a symbol of prosperity and an obligation to provide for those in need.

Not all stories surrounding the wheel are entirely wholesome. Tavern tales insist that a particularly greedy merchant once attempted to monopolize its bounty by selling endless slices throughout an entire kingdom. Before the year was over, every wheel of ordinary cheese in his warehouses had inexplicably transformed into bland, tasteless curds overnight. Whether this was divine punishment, fey mischief, or merely an amusing coincidence remains a matter of spirited debate among scholars and cheesemakers alike.

CONSTRUCTION

Requirements Craft Wondrous Item, create food and water, goodberry; creator must possess 9 ranks in Craft (Cooking) and use a full wheel of artisan-crafted brie aged no fewer than six months as the focus of the enchantment; Cost 9,000 gp + 720 XP

Kelwyn's Notes

There exists a curious tendency among wizards to believe that true magical achievement must always be spectacular. They strive to command storms, imprison dragons, or unravel the very laws governing time itself. Yet I have lived long enough to observe that the enchantments most fondly remembered are often the simplest. A warm fire on a bitter evening. A lantern that never gutters. A blanket that always remains dry. Or, in this case, an inexhaustible wheel of remarkably fine cheese.

One quickly discovers that there are two kinds of adventurers. The first carefully ration every crumb of food, calculating supplies with admirable discipline and worrying endlessly over the next meal. The second see an enchanted wheel of brie and immediately begin discussing wines, crackers, and whether mushrooms might improve the experience. I have traveled beside both sorts, and while the former undoubtedly survive longer on paper, the latter generally tell far better stories.

There is an undeniable magic in sharing food that no spell description can adequately capture. Around a meal, strangers become companions, frightened children remember how to laugh, and even the most hardened mercenary often finds themselves lingering to hear another tale before continuing down the road. One should never underestimate how thoroughly an empty stomach can poison good judgment, nor how effectively a satisfying meal can restore hope when swords and sorcery have accomplished very little.

I recall one particularly obstinate mule that refused to haul a supply wagon another inch until it received its customary slice from one of these wheels. The teamsters insisted the creature had become spoiled by the enchantment. I argued that it had merely learned the value of negotiating from a position of strength. The mule got its cheese. The wagon reached its destination. Everyone involved considered the arrangement entirely satisfactory, save perhaps the accountant responsible for purchasing ordinary feed.

Should fortune ever place one of these marvelous wheels into your possession, cherish it not because it produces endless food, but because it grants endless opportunities to gather people together. Heroes are remembered for slaying monsters, kings for winning wars, and archmages for crafting impossible wonders. Yet ask an old traveler what they remember most vividly, and more often than not they will tell you about a shared meal, good company, and laughter echoing long after the plates had been cleared. That, I think, is a kind of magic worthy of preservation.