Everyone loves loot! You can stuff it in your pocket and everything. And few things are as universally mysterious as a looted key.

The Keyring of Madness is a simple scrimshawed bony ring made from the spinal column of an aboleth. It retains an attribute of its former self, in that it wishes to overthrow and conquer the life of its current owner. And if that sounds exciting, boy oh boy, I can't tell you how excited I was to have used the words "scrimshawed" and "aboleth" in the same sentence. I'm terrible at Scrabble and this is how I overcompensate.

The glorious, deceitful single key one initially finds attached to the ring is incredibly seductive. But the good times shall not last. Just like when you found that penny in the gutter that gave you pink eye. 

The second it is picked up, it becomes bound to a player, and whether they realize it or not they'll need to have remove curse cast on them soon. Within a week, actually. Otherwise, they will be unable to part with the keyring and will desperately defy anyone who tries to get between it and them, like a child being asked to part with an iPad that has both Minecraft and Fortnite installed on it. And you know, lots of in-app purchases already made in them too.

A Simple Lure

If you are the Dungeon Master, place the Keyring of Madness in a place where an unlucky adventurer might have lost it on purpose. This is because it desperately wants to be found, like a kitten or a flyer for a local wedding DJ.

The bone ring is also solid, and cannot be broken, making it seem as if this ring can never hold more keys. More on how this is untrue soon.

Shining on a nail in the wall, it will have a single solitary key on it that functions like a magical skeleton key. It can magically unlock 5 non-magical locks. Only, it won't work one time between the 4th and 5th use. That's because it's playing hard to get. It's very emotionally manipulative that way. 

False Skeleton Key 

The primary key reassuringly slides into most locks and there's no real way of knowing it has charges. Made from the bone of the aboleth as well, it works permanently in those first few precious locks, conforming to their insides the moment it is slid back in. It can only manage so many because it's just a shard of dead bone, but really, it's trying to make a solid impression.

Its purpose is to remain forever on the mind of the holding creature. It will also insert itself into a variety of memory-based ability checks via a weak pulse of telepathy it possesses. If the cursed character makes any kind of check to assess a situation, they have a chance to be reminded of that really handy skeleton key burning a hole in their pocket. The second-worst kind of influencer. The actual worst if you're in a realm with no social media.

Key Absorption

Within 1d4 days of the Keyring of Madness being in a creature's possession, it magically teleports all nearby keys onto itself. 

This quickly makes it appear strange, but the curse already has its hooks in, so at this point it's just bragging that you are in trouble.

That teleported key will only work one more time, and then it will become altered. Its essential color and appearance changes just enough that it no longer functions like it originally intended. And remember, the keyring is indestructible, so unless the key is cut off somehow it cannot be released from the curse, though a careful cut around the hole in the key will allow it to retain its original shape. I mean look, it's not the fault of that key to your home or your diary. If the key to your player's diary was transformed forever they'd never be able to chronicle of what is to come.

Phantom Doors

Players not feeling the "madness" yet? Well, here's the second-worst part of the curse.

When the bearer of the Keyring of Madness turns their head away from a plain wall capable of housing a door, there is a chance they will see a fleeting glimpse of a Phantom Door that won't be there the next time they look. At this point there are many ways such a subtle hallucination can trouble a character, and it should be used sparingly so as not to immediately arouse suspicion. You want these fake doors to seem super cool, not like, I dunno, an ancient fish monster is messing with them or something.

The Dungeon Master can either describe this in an aggressive way, such as...

You notice the room you are in suddenly has one fewer doors than it did a moment ago. There was a door on the north wall when you first came in, but now it is gone.

Or more passively hint something is amiss when the context for a specific memory is addressed...

You recall that the inside of the wizard's office had a private exit behind the desk.

None of these doors can be found, and only exists in those fleeting hallucinations when the afflicted creature is turning away.

Each time this trick frustrates a player, the Keyring of Madness experiences a sort of vague, telepathic pleasure that it will communicate to the player by flooding them with positive thoughts. The confused player can be told they suddenly remember the calming sound of an ocean tide crashing. Why? Well you picked up a creepy bone ring and now it's messing with you. At least that pink eye penny never gaslit you.

This also means that, should the Dungeon Master feel generous, the happy keyring will delay the coming permanent curse a little longer, enabling a little more time for the affected creature to seek out help before it's too late.

The Slime

The ultimate goal of the Keyring of Madness is to be possessed for one full week, when the holder will begin to irreversibly transform into an aboleth. The only hint that this portent is coming is a thick mucous that the holder's flesh will begin to produce after 6 days. The transformation will then take a full calendar year, but limbs will begin to shift into tendrils and fins rather quickly, and the player's mind will become hostile and unplayable within a week. If this sound cruel, well, there's a reason a bunch of classes can learn remove curse: they need to use it. 

Also, once that curse is removed, the player will still need to make a successful DC 13 Constitution saving throw, or else their underarms will produce aboleth mucous for the rest of their lives. Happy Halloween.

 I hope you dug this super nasty item! I like cursed stuff, but I think it should be at least semi-functional. And I hope your players use it to break into at least one powerful politician's house before it reduces them to a weird psychic loach-thing. And if it does- please tell me on social media! 

Dan Telfer is the Dungeons Humorist aka Comedy Archmage for D&D Beyond (a fun way they are letting him say "writer"), dungeon master for the Nerd Poker podcast, a stand-up comedian, a TV writer who also helped win some Emmys over at Comedy Central, and a former editor of MAD Magazine and The Onion. He can be found riding his bike around Los Angeles from gig to gig to gaming store, though the best way to find out what he's up to is to follow him on Twitter via @dantelfer.