You begin to feel funny. Your head becomes clouded as you approach the evil wizard. Wait, you shouldn't attack the wizard. He's done nothing wrong to you. Your party members are wrong. They lied to you. You should attack them!
...You come to your senses after a momentary black-out. You have blood on your sword. The bard is bleeding and the rest of your fellow party members have their weapons drawn and are poised to attack you. And you can hear the evil wizard behind you chuckling.
You don't need a pipe or a heavenly voice to draw a crowd with this in your hands.
A relatively common magical item from the city of Lionguard
This could have made Johnny Appleseed's job that much easier!
A sword made of demon blood to fight demons.
A wonderfully ornate wood and silk dragon suit of the kind used in the Chinese Dragon dance. Flawlessly crafted, it is a wonder to see.
Freetext Friday, A Tale of Mysantia
Freetext Friday. One of the many flawed magic weopon types of the Stolen World
“Something weird heah! Get yer weird things!” I raised an eyebrow. Street vendors rolled by the Woflo Inn about five hundred blighted times a day, screeching like strangled gulls. I got sick of the racket by the second day, but it was midsummer, and closing the shutters would’ve choked us with the heat. Blight take this human city anyway, I'd take the Altanian jungles if I had a choice. At least there are no street vendors there.
Chav was on her feet and grabbing for her belt pouch like a shot. “Where are YOU going?” I drawled.
“You GOTTA come see this, Eve! This guy is great!” And with that, she was right out the door and pelting down the stairs.
“Something weird heah! Get yer weird things riiiight heah!”
Med-pods, med-bays, and a dozen trade marked names, all for the technomagical healing bed.
An ancient Chinese string instrument (guqin being the actual term) adapted to a fantasy setting
A weapon used in the old days of Setsokan warlords, by the Son of Sets himself, these barbed spikes rend through flesh and bone as easily as paper.
The Staff of the Flame Eagle
Seven rings were made long ago in the days of the Queens of old, seven highly magical rings to help a ruler to rule, but they proved anything but helpful.
With triumph the Halfling thief pried the shining silver circlet from the skull of some poor merman long dead of the trident plunged clear thru the bones of his chest. As he swam to the surface he marveled at the craftsmanship and planned to take it straight to the camp. That thin fidgety wizard, Prinny the Prestidigitator, might know the worth of this silver circlet with waves so detailed he could almost feel the call of the sea....
Just the thing for making your demon-infested two-handed sword from Hell!
A weapon cleverly disguised as a wrapped drinking straw.
A piece of an ancient way of life, a tool for a consummate hunter.
A bag of enchanted beans. Dare you plant them?
In a crowded marketplace, a man is standing on a soapbox, orating. Some of the crowd are cheering, some hissing, some standing around saying "I can't hear a bl**dy word he's saying". It's a hustings for an election. The PCs can either leave, or stay and listen. If they do the latter, then they can vote too, and they might get quite involved in the cheering. Depending on who wins they might get quite involved in the post-election brawl too...
There are numerous possibilities with this encounter: the PCs might end up talking to one of the nervous candidates before their speech, and offer encouragement and support. Of course this candidate may well turn out to be someone with outspokenly unorthodox views, and the crowd don't take kindly to s/his supporters. Or maybe the seemingly innocuous candidate turns out to be a complete racist, and the PCs wander off embarrassedly, pretending they weren't talking to this person five minutes ago.