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Severed Medusa Head
🕑 Added 2021-10-22 18:32:24 +0000 UTCSevered Medusa Head
Wondrous item, legendary
This severed medusa head still writhes and squirms with life, snake hair snapping at nearby hands and blood oozing from the open stump. The medusa who donated their head is still fully aware of their torturous situation, but is unable to speak due to their severed vocal cords. Using this head requires a free hand, with which you can grasp by the hair to hold. Each time you use the head, the snakes attack your hand, and you take 3d6 poison damage.
As an action, you can aim the medusa’s petrifying gaze in a 30-foot cone. A creature within this area that can see the medusa's eyes must make a DC 14 Constitution saving throw. If the saving throw fails by 5 or more, the creature is instantly petrified. Otherwise, a creature that fails the save begins to turn to stone and is restrained. The restrained creature must repeat the saving throw at the end of its next turn, becoming petrified on a failure or ending the effect on a success. A creature is immune to this effect if it does not have a body made of flesh, or has legendary actions. The petrification lasts until the creature is freed by the greater restoration spell or other magic. Once this property is used, it cannot be used again until the next dawn.
If there is a Small or larger reflective surface within the area of the petrifying gaze, the severed medusa head instantly turns to stone, and cannot be used again until freed from its own curse. Additionally, if you can see the reflection, you are forced to make saves against petrification as well.
Euryale lounged in her sculpture garden, lazily tracing a finger along the jawline of one of her admirers. She was an accomplished artist, with hundreds of pieces to show for her many lifetimes of work. The bench she lounged on was one of her favorites, pieced together from loose bits of torso atop mismatched arms and legs.
It had been some time since her last visitor, and Euryale had grown awfully lonely over the years. She was eager to share her newest compositions to a fresh audience, before they joined the collection of course. Some of the poses she had evoked from her subjects were truly stunning, especially in the elaborate scenes that their bodies were arranged in now.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, Euryale heard footfalls echoing from the cavern entrance. She quickly hid herself among her sculptures, giggling wickedly like a child playing hide-and-seek. Euryale watched the man enter her garden and appreciate her work. He seemed like an admirer of the arts, taking his time to wander in her direction. As he finally rounded a statue of a horse riding atop a knight, she pounced. What she had failed to notice until the last second, was the hand mirror dangling from his neck by a length of twine. Euryale screamed and shut her eyes tight, narrowly avoiding the fate she had gifted to so many. In that moment, a sudden terrible pain shot through her neck. Her scream became a choked gurgle and she felt numbness, nothingness, and then darkness...
When Euryale regained consciousness, there was the strong smell of blood and burlap. Throbbing, burning pain and strange weightlessness drowned her senses. Rough cloth and darkness pressed in against her face. An acrid liquid stung her right eye, but she was unable to blink it away. Merry banter in an unknown language, and horse hooves on gravel sounded all around her. What was going on? Why couldn’t she move her body?
As Euryale jostled in the saddlebags, her confusion clarified into a seething rage. She began to tirelessly unravel her cloth enclosure. It would take time, but she had all the time in the world. Soon, Euryale hissed at herself, I will see the look in your eyes as I claim my revenge...
Alt Lore Blurb:
Stheno awoke with a start. Was that whispering in the dark, or the remnant of a dream? She lay perfectly still, taking shallow breaths and listening intently for what seemed like ages. Just as she was drifting off again, there was an almost imperceptible rustle, and a hiss. She went rigid in terror, someone or something was just outside of her bedroom.
Carefully, Stheno raised herself from her bed and crept across the stone floor, wide-eyed and catlike. Her heart was pounding furiously as she listened at the door. Nothing. Then, as she slowly turned the bronze handle, the door burst inwards, throwing her to the floor.
Stheno screamed as she scrambled away but, before she could turn around to see the intruder, a sudden terrible pain shot through her neck. Her scream became a choked gurgle and she felt numbness, nothingness, and then darkness...
When Stheno regained consciousness, there was the strong smell of blood and burlap. Throbbing, burning pain and strange weightlessness drowned her senses. Rough cloth and darkness pressed in against her face. An acrid liquid stung her right eye, but she was unable to blink it away. Merry banter in an unknown language, and horse hooves on gravel sounded all around her. What was going on? Why couldn’t she move her body?
As Stheno jostled in the saddlebags, her confusion clarified into a seething rage. She began to tirelessly unravel her cloth enclosure. It would take time, but she had all the time in the world. Soon, Stheno hissed at herself, I will see the look in your eyes as I claim my revenge...
