Two rival wizards. You can guess what happens. Yes, one flays the other naturally, but is interrupted half-way through the skinning ritual...
- Stop ogling!
- I wasn't
- You can't take your eyes off her even now!
Only the good looking can't see it
Few know the secret behind the Flying Monks of Ka-zin is not entirely due to their remarkable skill at acrobatics, but also in the colorful belts they wore.
The sound was most troublesome. Long have I been prisoner to Kormack and his evil designs, and the torturous sounds my heart has been cursed to endure has left me cold inside. I endure and ignore. Cold to the pain and the suffering of poor souls around me. Their Fate forsworn as soon as they enter His lair. But this, this atrocity has pierced my now icebound heart and cracked deep into my very soul. The children... The mewling babes that know nothing of their future, nothing of the joys of life. Innocent of horrors of the world and the dread future it holds. How short that future is. I can not get the sound of the mewling infants from my mind, it is seared into memory as a brand on an animals flank forever to remain. Some have even laughed right up till the end and nothing is more damaging to ones sanity than a broken childs laugh.
Master Blacksmith Heaf Astes
A fine cloak that allows the wearer to see from a statue's eyes.
"I once went questin' for Alexander Sehtolc's five clothes. Each item has a magic power that the wearer can use, see. And when you get all seven, each power is amplified. 'Course, I never could find Alex's boots."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub.
Time to test yet another one, He thought as he approached the bus. He withdrew the quarters from his pocket, the exact fare. Marvelous!
Vampiric panties? What a base a vulgar term, they are discretionary undergarments. Please, they are Braies of the Tides.
It's just a shoddy old hand bag, pay it no mind.
It looked like a massive landslide, but, just before it slammed into us it turned into a bunch of laughing dwarven children!
The mark of Kronath’s ultimate favor, the Cloak of Dusk is held by her Hunter, her chosen avatar to hunt the living dead, and return them to her embrace.
"He’d look a lot more majestic up there if he weren’t wobbling all over the place!"
The volcano robe as it is called houses the elemental power of fire.
Spennymore’s Skating Boots look normal to the untrained eye. It is difficult to mentally connect them to the legends that cling to them, of those who would attack the wearer suddenly ending up head over heels.
"Okay, so I can’t run. But look at me jump!"
"What do you mean I changed clothes?"
"Sir- did you steal that cloak"
"Of course not! Haven’t you seen fabric change color before?"
Why is all the rum gone?
That crazy fellow over there just poured it all into his boots!
Now with Bonus Item!
Frosty the Snowman. Is a fairytale they say. He was made of snow. But the children know. How he came to life one day…
There must have been some magic. In that old silk hat they found. For when they placed it on his head. He began to dance around…
It is said that the metal cap of her beekeeper’s hat has a magical substance found in enchantment devices.
Bag on a Stick
Very simple gag but a great one, since it can be used multiple times over, even in the same adventure. Great for tribal natives gone restless and humanoids, but anyone can have set this up. Just what the header says, a simple bag over a stick stuck in the ground or floor.
As GM you can place the bag on a stick anywhere, in a floor crack the heroes have passed before, outdoors in a clearing or path, or at the edge of the PCs' encampment the following morning, what have you. Place anything on the stick - a coiled yellow viper angered by the bag removal, mini crossbow w/poison, transdermal hallucinatory drug dusted on the bag, yellow mold colony, an NPC ally's head, a weapon, scroll tube or satchel, what have you.
The idea is to build tension and/or stall for time/distract the party. Provided it's used properly, you'll be amazed at how paranoid players will get from this simple gag.