Goonalan's D&D 5th Edition Campaigns
Magic Item- Phandelver Wand (3)
Wand of Magic Missiles
“Phandelver Wand” Wand of Magic Missiles.
The Wand has 7 charges.
You use 1 charge to cast Magic Missile as a Level 1 spell- 3 Missiles. You can use up to 3 charges at a time, use 2 charges to fire 4 Missiles, or 3 charges to fire 5 Missiles.
If the wand is reduced to 0 charges there is a 1 in 20 chance it is destroyed.
The wand regains 1d6+1 expended charges each day at dawn.
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.
The mine tunnels of Wave Echo Cave, the wielder of the wand- an earnest young wizard dashes from cover to cover, around him is chaos- bodies lie everywhere, the fallen defenders mixed in with Orcs and worse.
Breathing hard our guy ducks out of cover and is spotted in an instant- he flees, wand trailing behind- firing on the trio of Orcs that come racing after him.
One down- the first Orc falls.
The wizard skitters a round a corner a collides with yet another Orc.
Our guy bounces off the enemy and is running again- a different direction.
And still reaching back with his wand to fire more Magic Missiles into the chasing Orcs.
A second enemy falls- but there’s now easily a half-dozen chasing him.
Ducking and diving through mine tunnels, our guy seems to know where he’s going, and yet the Orcs are still following.
A third Orc falls as the wizard makes it into a much larger cavern, a sloping shell strewn beach (of sorts) nudges up against a pool of crystal clear water.
“Malkus!” A voice screams from an exit to the north east.
Our guy, Malkus, stares hard at the woman screaming his name- a northern beauty, if only…
A spear suddenly slams into his chest, buries itself deep in his flesh.
The Orcs are less than twenty feet away.
Malkus points the wand but- nothing.
The Orcs hit him at a charge.
The last sound his name on the woman’s lips- screaming.
And then the sound of the water closing over him.
Then silence and black.
The scene shifts to the Forge of Spells, a dozen Gnome, Dwarf and Human mages stand before the Forge- all of them chanting, each race chanting a different song- the effect is tremendous, a cacophony of noise the whispers and rumbles at the same time.
The Forge- the brazier itself springs to life, you notice for the first time that prior to this the flame on it was not lit, this is the consecration, or else arcane fueling of the magical item forging fire… the moment the Forge of Spells was switched on.
The memory continues, the sound of the songs clashing enough to make you toss and turn during your rest.
For six long hours the memory persists.
Until finally, at last, the ceremony is complete- one member of each race steps up to the flame; they clasp hands across it, grasped within the flame, a moment later and the fire turns a sparkling green in colour.
The assembled mages turn and grin- it is really done, the Forge of Spells is ready to be put to the test.
The memory ends.
The Forge flares and burns and the Wizards assembled work their magic, in the great tinged flame of the fire lies the Wand of Phandelver.
Spells sound and arcane consonants echo as Wizard after Wizard takes a turn to blaze and posture- and in the center of the Forge of Spells the Wand of Phandelver rests- soaking all of the magic up.
Odd shapes ripple and weave as reality warps and bends- such is the magic being expended in this place and time.
And yet the wand of Phandelver stirs not, it neither quivers nor shakes, even after spell after arcane spell and fired into the simple stave.
It takes an age, and yet in your dream memory the moment arrives seemingly in minutes.
The spells are done.
The Wizards are spent.
A darkness emerges, almost unseen- no more than a shrouded shape, reaches down and grasp the Wand.
You wake instantly, a feeling of dread clutches at your heart and soul- holds you in its grasp for just a fraction of a second, and yet you know it- beyond doubt.
The darkness is in the Wand.
And now in you.