You can find the ever-growing list of “Better Than Nothing” items over on the right. Read ’em, like ’em, share ’em, and comment.
Executioner’s Silks
There were dozens of them… dozens and more. Wex could hear his own heart pounding in his ears as he raced lightfooted through the tall grass. A spear flew over his shoulder and he veered hard to the right towards the gorge.
The creatures were faster than him and he knew he had only moments before they’d catch up. And as he felt the point of something rip through his back, he tumbled into the deep green of the field and hoped the others would find him soon.
System: Fabled to be how the clever Diana of Prell, sorceress of the hill people, managed to survive her execution. The silks go around one’s wrists (individually tied), ankles, waist, thighs, shoulders, elbows, knees, and neck. They only work if all are worn. Using one’s reaction, and only with the blow that drops the PC to 0 HP (or below, yadda), the PC may stave off death (And death rolls) and simply fall bodily apart into hands, feet, lower and upper legs, lower and upper arms, torso, and head. No bleeding, remaining unconscious, simply stable at 0 HP but in pieces. Pieces must be placed in close proximity to their adjoining fellow end (within inches) and left for at least 1 HD spent by the PC before restoring the PC to normal, wholeness.
The Box of Princely Comeliness
“How do I look?” Flynn peeked up from his case, cutting a fine profile against the morning sun while the others looked on.
The motley crew just stared at him, he’d been at it half the morning and none of them really appreciated just why he felt the need to dress up and shine when all they were going to do was walk another twenty miles through this hellishly humid jungle.
But, like clockwork–fine and uncaring–the bard had woken up without fail at the crack of dawn, fogging the tiny camp with the smell of vissine perfumes and leaving traces of colalite powder across this or that while he puffed and primped and oiled his way to a sense of normalcy… every morning.
Mad. Truly.
System: As a disguise kit, but filled with make-ups and powders, blushes and rouges, small bottles of scented oils and perfumes. A comprehensive, magical make-up box. Each morning, taking an hour, the PC may use the make-up box (as a disguise kit) and its magical properties. With care and effort the PC may roll a Wisdom check and replace their Charisma score with the result of that roll (they do not have to) up to a maximum of 20. The box makes the ugly comely, the tongue tied more dashing, and the social butterfly into an alluring magnet of attention. Box replenshes its stock of powders, oils, lotions, and accessories once a day. Only usable once per day. After 1 day, the Charisma goes back to normal or if washed off.
Screeching Flute
TEWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
The sound was maddening and seemingly without end. Everytime the man in the hat played the flute something inside of Lawler died a bit, he could feel blood seeping from his ear, he couldn’t quite remember what day it was today.
TWEWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEE!!
The migraine was intense. He was crying and sobbing and for the life of him, he couldn’t think past the pain of the moment.
In a rough, choked voice he thought he managed to beg–to plead to be allowed to answer any question. If only the sound could stop…
It must have been his beleaguered imagination, though–as the tune came back again.
System: A magical flute that, with only great skill, can drive men mad and kill the unwary. With a full turn of playing, PC can cause Psychic Damage to everyone that listens. Anything with a Passive Perception above 12 (perceptive, easily draw to pay attention) or actively listening on purpose, hears a melodious tune that at the last possible moment screeches pain into their mind for 1d4, Wisdom save for half. Flute may be made to screech after a rest, and only once until after next rest.
Many-Sided Dice 
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