Bottle of the Wandering Menagerie
Aura Faint conjuration and transmutation; CL 3rd
Slot —; Price 1,200 gp; Weight 1 lb.
DESCRIPTION
This small opaque bottle is fashioned from smoky gray glass and sealed with a cork stopper wrapped in tarnished brass wire. Even while sealed, thin wisps of pale vapor curl lazily from around the cork and drift through the air before fading away. The bottle is warm to the touch and occasionally emits faint squeaks, chirps, or rustling sounds from within.
When the cork is removed, the bottle summons a single mundane animal determined by rolling 1d10 on the following table:
Field Mouse
House Mouse
Small Rat
Chipmunk
Tree Squirrel
Rabbit
Hedgehog
Duckling
Small Goose
Chicken
The creature appears adjacent to the bottle in an unoccupied space. It is a completely normal animal of its kind and possesses no magical abilities. It behaves as a typical specimen would, though it is generally calm and non-aggressive. The creature remains for 2d6 minutes before dissolving into wisps of smoke that drift back into the bottle, regardless of distance. If slain before this duration expires, its body likewise dissolves into smoke after 1 round and returns to the bottle.
The bottle may be uncorked up to three times per day.
Curse: The bottle possesses a harmless but persistent magical annoyance. Whenever a creature carries the bottle for more than one hour, faint animal sounds begin to accompany them. At inconvenient moments, random squeaks, rustles, clucks, quacks, scratching noises, or tiny pawprints of smoke appear nearby. These manifestations provide no mechanical penalty but make stealthy dignity difficult to maintain.
In addition, once per day, whenever the owner attempts to retrieve an item from a pouch, backpack, pocket, or similar container, there is a 25% chance that a handful of harmless feathers, fur, or straw emerges first. This delays the retrieval by one round but causes no other effect.
The curse cannot be removed without destroying the bottle. Even if subjected to remove curse, the nuisance effects reappear after 24 hours.
LORE
The origins of these bottles are widely disputed. Some claim they were originally created by apprentice conjurers attempting to master the binding techniques used by true genie vessels. Others insist they were the work of a particularly eccentric hedge wizard who found genuine magical research tedious and preferred collecting unusual pets.
Whatever their origin, the bottles have become minor curiosities among adventurers. Travelers appreciate the occasional companionship provided by the summoned creatures, while children often delight in discovering which animal emerges each time the cork is removed. More than one lonely hermit has reportedly spent years speaking to the bottle's ever-changing menagerie.
Unfortunately, the bottles are also notorious for their inability to respect social circumstances. Nobles have found themselves accompanied by phantom squeaking during formal banquets. Priests have discovered tiny trails of smoky chicken tracks crossing sacred floors during solemn ceremonies. One merchant famously spent an entire trade negotiation attempting to explain why muffled quacking seemed to be coming from his coat.
Most owners eventually develop a fondness for the inconvenience. The manifestations are too minor to inspire genuine anger, and the bottle's endless procession of ordinary animals lends it a peculiar charm. Many pass from owner to owner rather than being sold, gifted by individuals who have grown accustomed to the nuisance and feel strangely uncomfortable when the occasional squeak is no longer present.
CONSTRUCTION
Requirements Craft Wondrous Item, summon nature's ally I, prestidigitation; Cost 600 gp, 48 XP
Kelwyn's Notes
There are many cursed objects whose purpose appears rooted in cruelty. They diminish, isolate, wound, or destroy. Such items often reveal uncomfortable truths regarding the minds of their creators. This bottle, however, belongs to a far stranger category - artifacts that seem almost incapable of taking themselves seriously.
The creatures it produces are not heroic companions. They are not guardians, sages, or supernatural beasts possessed of hidden wisdom. They are merely animals. Small, ordinary, wonderfully unremarkable animals. A chicken remains a chicken whether conjured from smoke or hatched from an egg. A mouse summoned by magic concerns itself with exactly the same priorities as any other mouse. There is something strangely reassuring about that consistency.
The curse itself feels less like malice and more like the magical equivalent of a practical joke that has somehow survived its creator. One imagines a wizard laughing quietly to himself while designing a device capable of introducing faint poultry-related embarrassment into the lives of complete strangers for centuries to come. The joke possesses neither sophistication nor restraint, yet it endures.
Civilization often imagines itself as a grand procession of important people engaged in important work. Then a bottle such as this appears and gently reminds everyone that reality remains populated by feathers, fur, squeaking, straw, and the occasional inexplicable duck. There are worse lessons to carry through life. Indeed, there are days when such reminders may be precisely what prevent a person from becoming unbearably serious.
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