Author: Jamie Frost

Start it with troll’s blood, feed it nothing but goat cheese and anachronistic grandfather clocks, and let it bake in the caldera of an active volcano; let me know how that turns out.

Originally shared by Jamie Frost

Dungeon Starter: This heavy glass jar holds what appears to be simple brown flour. In actual fact, the flour was ground from one of the fallen leaves of the World Tree, and it still carries the power of creation within, yearning to break free.

Awakening the Dungeon Starter takes one week, and it cannot be stopped once it has begun. To start the process, mix any liquid with the flour; this will create a dough, to which you may add further ingredients. Anything can be added to the dough over the week that it’s growing, and the dough will absorb it; some ingredients may take longer than others for the dough to absorb.

The time when ingredients are added is significant; though it’s not an exact science, ingredients that are added sooner will have a greater impact on the final product compared to ingredients added at the last minute. The liquid used to activate the starter initially will have a great impact indeed.

When one week has passed, the starter is ready, and no more ingredients will be digested by it. At this point, you may pour it out in a place of your choosing, and the starter will do its work. Over the next several minutes, hours or days, depending on the Indians ingredients (baking takes time!), the starter will grow into a fully fledged dungeon.

The dungeon”s traits are themed after the ingredients that were added to it; the spark of creation contained within multiplies and extrapolates them into a theoretically coherent whole, creating hazards, inhabitants and treasures as appropriate.

While every dungeon grown this way is unique, there is one common trait: if the starter is properly looked after and fed a sufficiently stimulating diet, then a new jar of starter will be found at the heart of the dungeon.

I’m sure at least one of these won’t start its life as a goofy pun. Eventually. Actually I’m not sure of that at all. Enjoy!

Originally shared by Jamie Frost

Potable Hole: This small vial of pitch black liquid is a product of happenstance. Originally it was meant to be used an ink, drawn across a surface to create a portal to a tiny dimension over which the enchanter would have absolute control. Unfortunately, the enchanter was killed partway through the design process, and the formula was never completed.

However, the liquid does still contain a measure of its intended power, which manifests when it is drunk. The drinker creates a selectively permeable portal in their throat, which allows them to shunt anything they swallow into an extradimensional space. The portal can be deactivated with the pass phrase “I’m hungry,” and reactivated with the phrase “I’m full.”

Though the potable hole has a variety of uses, there is one downside if one wishes to use it for storage. The extradimensional space acts very much like a second stomach, and its contents can only be retrieved by vomiting up the entirety of its contents. It’s not as disgusting as it sounds, but if the user has stored a large number of items it can create quite a mess when they are all dumped out in a pile.

Works well as a companion for a Wand of Unseen Customer Service (first created by the great magus Att).

Originally shared by Jamie Frost

Trident of Call Waiting (Reach, Thrown, +1 damage)

The three tines of this trident may be removed and reinstalled at will. Each tine may be wielded as an ordinary dagger (hand, precise), and if all three tines are removed the trident functions as a quarterstaff, losing the thrown tag and gaining the close tag.

On the handle of the trident are three buttons, each of which corresponds to one of the tines, each of which also has a button. By pressing the button, the wielder of either the handle or a tine may establish an audio link between the two, so that any sound heard by one is broadcast through the other.

The tines may not link to one another, and only one tine can be linked to the handle at a time, though the handle’s wielder may see when a connection is being attempted and may switch between calls freely.

While a tine holder is waiting on the handle holder to accept or return to their call, the tine plays a selection of vaguely catchy instrumental tavern music.

If you’d like to hear a tale,

Come ’round and have a seat.

I’ll sing the song of Dancing Dale,

It’s really quite a treat.

Young Dale was quite the handsome lad,

And always quick of wit,

His feet were fleet, his hands were glad,

His pipe was always lit.

But then one day he found a sack,

Stitched with a mage’s name.

(The mage’s name was Hand-some Jack,

And luggage was his game.)

The sack was quite the wondrous thing,

And stylish as a lynx,

For while our Dale would dance and sing,

The sack would serve him drinks.

And anytime throughout his day,

Dale had a single need,

The sack would serve it on a tray,

With most impressive speed.

But magic always has a catch,

And the sack’s was pretty bad,

It dropped Dale’s barding down the hatch,

And left him hopping mad.

One day the sack brought out a gift,

He said he didn’t want.

The ask was just a thought adrift,

A fancy on a jaunt.

But when he waved the gift away,

The waving hand went too,

Into the sack to join the fray,

It bid fair Dale adieu.

And in its place the satchel put

The gift he didn’t need,

Upon a hairy ogre’s foot,

His elbow now a knee.

Dale figured out how he’d transgressed,

He saw what ruled the sack:

When it provides what you request,

Don’t ever give it back.

But our fair Dale, though quick of wit,

Was rather slow to learn.

He never knew just when to quit,

And his arm would ne’er return.

Twice more did Dale rebuff the sack,

While hunting for his arm,

And luggage magic often packs

Less good than it does harm.

But one thing’s true of Dancing Dale,

He always stays upbeat,

And in a dance he’s unassailed,

Now that he has four feet!

Originally shared by Jamie Frost

The Hand-y Haversack: This simple sling pack is much bigger on the inside, allowing its holder to store a seemingly endless number of items within. Moreover, the Haversack can read its holder’s thoughts; any time the holder thinks of an item that it holds, deliberately or otherwise, an arm or other limb emerges from the pouch to hand the item to its holder. The limbs that emerge are different every time.

The Haversack is a temperamental and easily offended item. If the holder refuses to take and immediately use an item that the Haversack has offered them, one of their limbs immediately detaches itself and clambers into the bag to join the the crowd, and the limb that offered the item climbs out and takes its place.

As I lay me down to sleep, strange thoughts into my head do creep. It’s hardly worth my time to fight ’em, so here’s a silly magic item.

Originally shared by Jamie Frost

Cloak of ‘I’s: This mystic cloak is embroidered with dozens of eye-shaped patches. The cloak’s wearer may see through any or all of these eyes in addition to their own, allowing them to watch their own back in combat. The patches may also be removed and reattached freely, allowing the wearer to leave them in places they would like to keep an eye on, though much like real eyes the patches are limited in number and do not grow back if destroyed.

The cloak has one unfortunate side effect, a linguistic curse: all vowels spoken by the wearer are replaced with ‘I’s.