Corran had an issue. It wasn't a going problem, or a regularity problem, that part of the plumbing was fine. It was the end results. Sadly, the concept of indoor plumbing or its equivalent were still a few decades past dawning on the master craftsman, so he instead looked towards improving the chamber pot.

Bethany always complained that he would leave the chamber pot unclosed, waddling back to bed and allowing its deadly olfactory payload to waft throughout the house. Defying sensible feminine ideals about how one's house should look and smell, Corran risked irking his wife- his newfound ability to cook already in the past and forgotten by his wife.

It began with The Blade of Intuition, which suggested that he apply his skills to the problem at hand. Corran purchased a great deal of clay, shaping and molding it into the proper size and shape for a chamber pot. Etching varies designs he found cool looking into the surface, Corran ensured to bond them securely to the varies smelling salts and spices meant to ward off bad smells. His work took quite a few days, during which the old man ensured not to sully his creation by allowing it near the chamber pot that was in use.

The molding complete, with the appropriate warding material intertwined with the clay, Corran set it within the kiln. He had attached a lid to the top via a hinge, specially coated and treated to withstand the heat of the firing. Using Vulcan's Walking Stick, he started the fire that would birth the solution to his problems.

Or so he thought. During a lunchbreak, a seagull had taken liberty to christen the new chamber pot. Corran's seals and wards did not keep the essences of waste out- they trapped them in, a shell containing the scatological payload of evil within. It would ruin his otherwise perfect work.

Corran removed the pot from the kiln and set it up in his usual location, content with his work.

That night, he cursed the day he made his items nigh-indestructible, and threw the pot out into the world to terrorize someone more deserving.


The Self-Closing Chamber Pot is a large clay pot, about two feet in diameter around the middle, with an opening at the top of about a foot in diameter. The entire pot is fairly short, allowing a normal human to squat over or sit on it as necessary. The lid is hinged, conceivably to provide back support. The color of the pot is indeterminate due to the multitude of stains, scorch marks, and other damage sustained to the surface, which is battered with a multitude of abuse and scars.

When approached, the lid opens automatically. Generally the chamber pot allows its victim to sit before fully starting its antics. Snapping the lid shut on one's buttocks (or other available anatomy) is one of the pot's favorite gags, as is spewing its contents onto anyone nearby. The pot cannot be spoken to, reasoned with, or convinced to stop its behavior. The pot gleefully allows its stench to waft throughout any space it is enclosed in. It refuses to open for those who absolutely have to go. More than a few owners have found items dear to them sitting into the filth within the pot, only to question how an item lacking limbs could manage such a thing.

The pot is nigh-indestructible due to Corran's superior craftsmanship. The pot is suitable as a weapon of mass destruction, bomb, or siege breaker. More than a few invading armies have flung it into a castle by use of their catapults, leading to a quick and orderly surrender.

Vermin are attracted to the pot, and it drives normal animals away. Seagulls in particular are drawn to the house containing the chamber pot, flocking to it in large numbers.

DM's Notes

A humorous mission would be placing this item within an enemy's camp and watching the chaos unfold.......

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