A cavern is found with enough gold, silver, coppers, jewelry, books, rich clothing, everything a person could ever desire. But there's a warning on this entrance. It reads "Take only what is needed." And, outside the cavern, a large hospital, where many adventurers can be found. -- Anon Guest
The Church of Kind Hands keeps supplies for those who need. They accept the gifts of many, and distribute them to the wanting. Some gift their time. Rolling bandages, chopping wood, cooking food for the multitude, drawing water. Any number of small things that add up to enormous help.
Some gift things. Blankets, clothes, pots and pans, bedframes, bedding... and valuables. Sometimes it mounts up. Sometimes, there's not enough needy to take it all. Sometimes the lords of the lands declare taxes on those who accept "too much" assistance[1].
Skating around the labyrinthine hatred of the wealthy is something the adherents of Kind Hands are good at. Meanwhile, there's what to do with the hoard.
The latest group of Adventurers had found it, and were dribbling in its general direction. The sign at the entrance was magic, made so that anyone entering had to pay attention to it and could understand its meaning. If they wanted to take anything, they could only take what was needed.
Their living deity, Wraithvine, came by to charm storage rooms like these. That sort of thing quelled their natural impulses to kill everyone, take everything, and leave. Word like Wraithvine got around. Charms like that could easily become curses.
However, there was also a lot of gold and gems and magical items. The temptation was enormous.
"Only what we need. What do we really need?"
"I really need all of it," said the Thief. "It's so friendly."
"Can we chain her to a wall?" asked the Druid. "For security?"
"We have the Three Strikes Curse installed," said the local Cleric. "Speak truth, think carefully, and all will be well. Take only what you want, and there will be consequences."
"Speak truth," Their leader, the Fighter, pulled at his whiskers. "We're facing Ordogast the Unwieldy. What do you have that could defeat him?"
As he said those words, they took shape. Swirling around in the air in an impressive lightshow. They zipped into various nooks and crannies of the storage room, and came back bearing... items.
A cloak for the Druid. A small chest for the Thief. A curais for the Fighter. And a small, battered notebook for the Wizard. Each item hovered above the relative adventurer's hands.
"What do we say?" asked the Cleric.
Manners come slowly to adventurers. It took them five minutes to work out that they should say, "Thank you."
[1] Look up the horrendously byzantine laws surrounding disability pensions in the USA. If you're not angry, you're not paying attention.
[Image by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash]
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