Carnival Widow’s Strand

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Carnival Widow’s Strand


Aura faint necromancy; CL 7th
Slot neck; Price 18,400 gp; Weight —

DESCRIPTION

At a glance, this strand of beads appears entirely mundane - a festive necklace of glossy purple, gold, and green spheres strung along a thin but durable cord. The beads reflect light with a lacquered sheen and give off the faint scent of cheap perfume and spilled liquor. No magical aura is detectable unless the item is actively triggered.

The curse of the Carnival Widow’s Strand remains dormant until the wearer consumes their third alcoholic drink within a single evening (defined as sunset to sunrise). Upon completion of the third drink, the beads animate instantly and without warning, tightening with violent, supernatural force around the wearer’s throat.

The wearer must immediately succeed on a DC 18 Fortitude save or begin suffocating as if being strangled. On a failed save, the victim cannot speak or cast spells with verbal components and takes 2d6 points of damage per round as the beads constrict tighter. Each round thereafter, the victim may attempt another Fortitude save (same DC) to lessen the damage to 1d6, but the constriction does not cease until the beads are removed or the wearer falls unconscious.

Removing the beads requires a DC 22 Strength check or Disable Device DC 20, both as full-round actions that provoke attacks of opportunity. A successful grapple attempt against the victim grants a +4 bonus on these checks. If the wearer is reduced to 0 or fewer hit points, the beads immediately slacken and revert to their harmless, decorative form.

If the wearer dies, the beads loosen fully, leaving no visible sign of their involvement beyond faint bruising resembling festive coloration around the throat.

CONSTRUCTION

Requirements Craft Wondrous Item, bestow curse, hold person; Cost 9,200 gp + 736 XP + rare festival lacquers, enchanted silk cord, and three ritual goblets worth 500 gp

LORE

No one agrees on who first created the Carnival Widow’s Strand, though nearly every tale agrees on why. Some claim they were devised by a jealous lover, humiliated during a masquerade by a partner who drank too freely and strayed too easily. Others insist the beads were the work of a moralizing cleric who sought to punish indulgence, only to find their creation spreading far beyond their control.

In the river districts and festival quarters, whispers persist that these beads are quietly circulated each year before grand celebrations. They are traded, gifted, or even thrown from balconies like ordinary carnival strands - indistinguishable from the harmless trinkets revelers eagerly collect. The danger lies not in receiving them, but in choosing to wear them.

More unsettling still are the stories that suggest the beads are not merely cursed, but hungry. Some survivors swear that the constriction tightens in rhythm with laughter, music, or raised voices - as if the Strand feeds on excess and revelry. Whether this is truth or delirium born of panic is unknown, but it has done little to discourage their continued spread.

Collectors and nobles with a taste for the macabre prize these items highly, not only for their rarity but for their grim elegance. To own a Carnival Widow’s Strand is to possess a weapon disguised as celebration itself - a silent judge that waits patiently for indulgence to cross an unseen threshold.

And in a city where the night always promises one more drink, that threshold is crossed more often than anyone cares to admit.

Kelwyn’s Notes…

Ah yes… the Strand that laughs last.

I have encountered three of these in my time - each acquired under vastly different circumstances, and each accompanied by a story that ended rather more abruptly than its teller intended. Curious, that. They pass from hand to hand with such festive innocence, tossed through the air like baubles, yet they possess a patience I find… deeply unsettling. Not malice in the crude sense, no - something far more refined. Judgment, perhaps. Or appetite, depending on how poetic one is feeling.

Let me be perfectly clear - I do not wear it. I do not test it. I do not indulge the childish impulse to see “how far one might go before it reacts.” That particular curiosity has claimed more than a few otherwise intelligent individuals. There is a distinct difference between studying a phenomenon and volunteering to become its demonstration. I prefer, as ever, to remain on the observational side of the equation.

Still… one cannot help but admire the construction. A device that waits - truly waits - for excess to bloom before it answers. No crude trigger, no predictable mechanism. It allows its bearer every opportunity to err, and only then does it remind them of consequence. Elegant. Instructive. Utterly unforgiving.

If you insist on keeping one - and many do, for reasons that say troubling things about their character - I advise a simple rule: treat it not as jewelry, but as a loaded promise. One that tightens with laughter, swells with indulgence, and never, ever forgets that it was invited to the celebration in the first place.

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