Lamian Facestealer (Patreon)

Weapon (dagger), rare (requires attunement)

This dagger once belonged to an infamous lamian assassin and features a sculpted metal face at the base of the blade. When you attune to this weapon, the metal face magically changes to match your appearance. You gain a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic weapon.

The dagger has 3 charges and regains 1d3 expended charges daily at dusk. When you hit a humanoid with this weapon, you can expend 1 of its charges to immediately recreate the effect of the disguise self spell (save DC 15), taking on the appearance of the target. When you do, the dagger's metal face changes to match the appearance. This version of the spell allows you to seem up to 3 feet shorter or taller when taking on the target's appearance.

When you take on a creature's appearance in this way, that creature must make a DC 15 Wisdom saving throw. On a failed save, that creature has disadvantage on Wisdom saving throws and all ability checks as long as it can see you while you share its appearance in this way.

The guard lay dead on the floor in a pool of their own blood: a single stab wound evident in their back. Turro stared in disbelief at the body—he'd only been gone for a matter of minutes. The guard post had been silent all day. All week, even. And now this?

Who had been watching them? Who had been waiting?

A shuffling of papers and footsteps from the dark corner of the room caught Turro's attention. He swung around and drew his blade, adrenaline beginning to race through his veins.

His eyes dilated as he felt the first beads of sweat start to pool on his forehead. His breathing became sharper and panicked. Between the sounds of his own breathing and the pounding of his heart, he could hardly hear anything.

Another shuffle. This time on the other side of the room. He twisted around, grimacing as he expected to face the worst. To see the face of his friend's killer....

Instead, the dead guard stood before him, calm and alive. For an instant, Turro felt relieved.

Until he saw the glint of a dagger. Then, nothing.

A few moments later, Turro walked out of the guard post. He whistled softly to himself as he walked, twirling a key on one finger and tucking a crimson-stained dagger in his belt.