Flask of Ingratitude
Aura: Faint Conjuration; CL 5th
Slot: None; Weight: 1 lb.
Description
At first glance, this appears to be an ordinary leather-wrapped steel travel flask with a polished wooden stopper. The metal is always cool to the touch, even when left beneath the blazing sun or beside a roaring fire. No matter how much water is poured from it, the flask never empties, continuously replenishing itself with cool, crystal-clear drinking water.
Any creature that drinks from the flask regains 1d4 hit points of damage. A creature can benefit from this healing no more than once per hour, though the water remains refreshing regardless of how often it is consumed.
The flask, however, possesses an enchantment that borders on the absurd.
Immediately after every drink, the user must offer a sincere expression of gratitude to the flask before taking any other action. The wording is unimportant. "Thank you," "Much appreciated," "You're a lifesaver," or any similarly genuine expression of thanks is sufficient.
Failure to do so invokes the flask's curse.
The creature must succeed on a DC 16 Fortitude save or become afflicted with an intense bout of magical diarrhea. While afflicted, the creature is sickened for 1d4 hours and must spend a move action every 10 minutes tending to its discomfort. The creature cannot run or charge while the curse persists.
Additional failures while already afflicted do not worsen the effects but immediately reset the remaining duration to its full value.
The curse ends immediately if the afflicted creature sincerely apologizes to the flask while holding it. Otherwise, the condition ends naturally when its duration expires. A remove curse spell suppresses the flask's curse for 24 hours but does not permanently alter the item.
Lore
No one agrees where the first Flask of Ingratitude was created. Monastic records speak of an order that believed gratitude was among the highest virtues, teaching that even the simplest kindness deserved acknowledgment. Other scholars dismiss this explanation, insisting that no sane cleric would intentionally bind so ridiculous a curse into an otherwise useful item.
A more popular tale credits an elderly enchanter who grew tired of apprentices constantly helping themselves to his magical supplies without so much as a word of thanks. After enduring years of perceived disrespect, he supposedly vowed that his next creation would teach manners more effectively than lectures ever could. If the stories are true, the experiment proved remarkably successful.
Veteran adventurers often laugh when hearing of the flask for the first time. Few continue laughing after witnessing a seasoned warrior sprint awkwardly behind the nearest bush because they absentmindedly took a drink during a long march. Consequently, owners of the flask tend to become the most consistently polite travelers anyone has ever met.
Kelwyn's Notes
I have long maintained that the difference between civilization and barbarism is often measured in the smallest of courtesies. Holding a door, offering a greeting, acknowledging a kindness - these cost nothing and yet enrich every soul involved. Whoever created this flask clearly shared that sentiment, although perhaps with a somewhat unbalanced enthusiasm.
The enchantment fascinates me because it demonstrates no malice. The flask eagerly provides clean water without limit and heals injuries without hesitation. Only after its generosity has been accepted without acknowledgment does the curse awaken. It is as though the magic itself finds ingratitude fundamentally offensive.
I once observed a company of mercenaries traveling with one of these curious relics. By the second day, every member of the company had developed the habit of thanking nearly every object they handled. They thanked ropes for holding, tents for sheltering them from the rain, cooking pots for producing decent stew and, on one memorable occasion, a mule for standing still while being loaded. None of them seemed to realize how their manners had quietly improved.
There are, admittedly, moments when the flask's standards become somewhat unreasonable. During an ambush, one young ranger took a hurried drink between volleys of arrows and instinctively rushed back into the fight. Several minutes later, I watched him disappear into the underbrush with an expression that suggested he had made a profound tactical error. His companions won the battle but never allowed him to forget what had truly defeated him.
Should you ever come into possession of this item, I offer only one piece of advice: cultivate good habits. Make gratitude your first response, not because the flask demands it, but because the world is improved by those who freely express appreciation. The flask merely provides... unusually persuasive encouragement.
