Goonalan's D&D 5th Edition Campaigns
Magic Item- Nezznar (2)
“Nezznar” Spider Staff.
The top of this black, adamantine staff is shaped like a spider. The staff weighs 6 pounds. You must be attuned to the staff to gain its benefits and cast its spells.
The staff can be wielded as a quarterstaff. It deals 1d6 extra poison damage on a hit when used to make a weapon attack.
The staff has 10 charges, which are used to fuel the spells within it. With the staff in hand you can use your action to cast one of the following spells: Spider Climb (1 Charge) or Web (2 Charges, spell save DC 15). No components are required.
The staff regains 1d6+4 expended charges each day at dusk. If you expend the staff’s last charge, roll a d20. On a 1, the staff crumbles to dust and is destroyed.
Many magic items that need to be attuned possess a fragmented memory of their own existence, these ‘memories’ play out in dreams or visions witnessed by the newly attuned wielder, sometimes the dreams or visions are triggered by in-game events or experiences.
Interested adventurers can attempt to learn more about the item through research, or else by employing magical means.
Generally the first three ‘memories’ of the magic item will be presented below, other ‘memories’ will remain secret- only visible here to the wielder of the item.
A garbled chant- dissonant and broken, a mixture of shrieks- cries of pain; and the soft glissand of some stringed instrument.
For a moment you search for the tune, or else your idle mind wanders, swiftly reality returns as the darkness unpicks itself to reveal the tortured body of a broken elf, the forlorn specimen- shrunken skin and brittle bones, an emaciated form, lies still and bleeds out the last of its essence.
The staff, your staff- Nezznar is thrust down into the corpse- for a second you swear you can see the spider emblem on the top of the staff pulse, as if drinking.
The music, such as it is, goes on.
The wielder of the staff moves off, taking you and your dream vision with them.
A great dark hall, the hint of shadowed elegance at the extremis, a massive building or else a great sculpted cavern with fluted buttresses and a gothic arched ceiling- all in black, all in black; like the robes of the staff wielder.
You pass on through gauzy black curtains that hide hunched nubile forms- the scenes part savage part sexual; all tastes it seems are catered for…
And on, and on the staff wielder strides, eventually into an echoing passage.
There’s a light ahead.
And then you wake.
The staff wielder approaches the light, slower now- caution in their step; another curtain ahead- the furze of light shines through it- a dark skinned female Drow arm reaches out and gently, quietly, softly draws the curtain aside.
Beyond another elegant chamber, a small hall at the center a raised dais- a small crowd has gathered to hear the whispered words of the male Drow on the platform. The listeners are all shrouded in dark cloaks- all without emblem or design. The speaker however has taken no such precaution- a tall thin male, a warrior by the look of his attire- although the viewer observes from behind the figure.
The light in the chamber comes from a delicately carved and ornate lantern- placed at the speakers feet.
Sudden movement, on the ceiling- the swift glimpse at a figure high above, on the roof of the chamber, a terrible beast- half man, half spider- a Drider, clinging upside down to the ceiling.
The curtain is let go- the vision now faded and blurred by the gauze of material.
The watcher, the staff wielder, retreats- cautiously again, backing away- hands before her, staff at the ready.
Suddenly a scream, followed by a chorus of pain- then an ear-shattering sound as the air and light and space and time explodes from the chamber.
The staff wielder’s vision does not waiver- a fire consumes the Drow within the glimpsed chamber, the gauze curtains flare for a second and then are consumed, the rage of the flame licks down the corridor towards the watcher.
The figure does not move an muscle. It stands statue, even as the flame licks and then rips through the watchers garb.
Not even a scream, as the fire consumes the watcher; the vision fades- in time with the watcher’s life, until a moment before the last when the arm of a male Drow reaches out and grabs the staff.
The vision ends.