A Cursed Coin
The Miser's Coin is an ancient gold coin, pressed with symbols of unknown origins. The coin is bent, ragged, and tarnished yet somehow it remains alluring and beautiful to any that behold it. This coin is of unknown origins, having been minted long ago, somewhere in its lifetime it became infused with cursed energies. Now, whoever takes possession of it becomes obsessed with treasure and will do anything to gather more and more of it. Even the kindest and generous individuals will see a sudden dramatic shift in attitude becoming grumpy and easily agitated, even becoming prone to violent outbursts. Possessors of the coin also begin to become extremely possessive and protective over their wealth, unable to resist the urge of treasure hoarding and become practically unable to part with a single coin. Possessors of The Miser's Coin will do anything to collect more and more wealth including sudden, lengthy, and often dangerous sojourns into remote locations. While others will attempt risky business ventures, or resort to plain ole stealing.
The coin does come with some benefits though, and the longer the owner holds the coin the more powerful and chaotic these abilities become. First, the owner of the Miser's Coin becomes able to sense nearby treasures, including coins, gems, magical items, and anything of worth. This can be a disarming ability as anything of worth sets it off, which could be a reason why the wielder becomes so easily agitated, it is as if a small alarm bell is constantly going off in their head. In the beginning, this ability can only pick up treasure within a few dozen feet but as time goes on the range grows and grows, eventually the owner will be able to sense vast treasure hordes kilometres away from their current location. Through practice, this ability can even sense the size and relative worth of whatever wealth is within its range.
If the owner happens to hold on to the coin for several years other strange abilities will begin to develop, though the stronger these powers grow the more deranged and irrational the wielder becomes. Though those of strong will may be able to hold off the more aggressive changes in attitude, though even they will succumb to these changes eventually. As the owner's foul mood and violent tendencies deepen, they will begin to develop the ability to manipulate certain precious metals, gold in particular. When this ability first begins to appear, the wielder will only be able to lift a single coin, eventually though they will be able to lift thousands of pounds of coin into massive towers of shifting gold with just a single thought.
Furthermore, the possessor of the coin can sense when his horde is disturbed, and nothing stops a would-be thief in their tracks like a thousand-pound wave of gold coin crashing over their heads.
Origins of the First Recorded Owner
According to legend, The Miser's Coin has been circulating across the lands of Fyria for well over a thousand years. But it's first confirmed owner was said to have been owned by Laomann Breac, one of the first tycoons of Heldrin. Breac amassed an enormous fortune several hundred years ago during the waning days of the Time of Roses and was a successful man well before taking possession of the coin.
Laomann Breac made the majority of his fortune in early adulthood, investing in a few small fishing vessels that would fish of the coast of his native Heldrin before selling their wares at discounted prices on the docks of Roseport. Eventually, Breac would amass a fleet of fishing and merchant ships that fished and traded as far away as the southern waters of the Vilanto Sea.
However, a strange shift in behaviour occurred in the typically affable and generous Breac after a brief vacation abroad, an annual getaway to the hills of Casarei to the south where he rented a cabin each spring and would use the time to relax and reflect upon things. Breac, who would often spend much of his free time working on various charity efforts suddenly became reclusive, and even more alarmingly began to shut down his charity efforts one by one until none remained. Over the next few weeks, his close friends and associates would note that he would become angered easily, especially when conversations of spending or investing came up. Soon, he began to shun even his closest friends, preferring to focus on his business and eventually would spend much of his time travelling searching for the next source of treasure to pad out his growing horde.
Breac would continue to run his business, but now he did so with a ruthless hand, no shady tactic was below him and as a result, his fortunes grew even greater. Though now he did not share the wealth, paying his employees a low wage and keeping the vast majority of the fortune for himself. Breac refused any request at what he perceived to be a handout, no more charity would be given out by the hands of this once generous man. His obsession over securing his growing wealth grew so quickly that he even had a large vault built underneath his home on the outskirts of Roseport. This vault would eventually grow a legend of its own, as it was eventually the home for countless priceless artifacts, and of course, piles of precious gems, jewellery, and gold.
A year after this sudden attitude change Breac would announce something shocking, he and a small group of hired adventurers were to set out in search of treasure in the Jungles of Mijail. Breac had never in his life shared interest in hunting for lost treasure, but here he was preparing for an extended journey into the dangerous jungles of the southern coast. Regardless he set off, and after months away with almost no word, his business partners in the shipping industry scrambling to decide what to do, he reappeared. In tow, he and his party carried hundreds of pounds of treasure, each packed in bags and chests that weighed down a dozen creaking wagons. Gold and silver coins, weapons, gems, jewelry, you name it, Breac had somehow located a lost collection of treasure deep within the Jungles of Mijhail and dragged it home with his adventuring party lagging behind. Even the seasoned party he had hired to accompany him had no clue how he had sniffed out a treasure of this size so easily.
His return was the talk of Heldrin for weeks, but Breac did not share in their revelry, he loaded his treasure into his quickly filling vault, shut the door, and returned to his office to plan for his next expedition. And soon enough he would leave again, only a few months later, his business partners fraught with concern for his safety and the well-being of the company in which he was again leaving without his expert guidance. Breac didn't care, he knew the business would survive without him, and he told his partners as much. And then without hearing another word of complaint, he set off again.
And again, and again, he would leave in search of treasure, each time returning with a great mass of coin, chests of jewellery, and dozens of magical items and artifacts. Within a dozen years, his vault had ballooned into a treasure horde any dragon would envy. And yet, Breac did nothing with it, he just sat on it, staring into its gleaming surface. Over these years he would become increasingly sullen, easily agitated, and prone to violent outbursts whenever anyone commented on his treasure and his lack of generosity in recent years. He always yelled back that he himself had earned each and every gold coin and that they would have to be pried from his cold dead hands before he would part with them.
Until one day, Breac didn't return from one of his adventures. Nobody knew where he was headed, as he had become increasingly private and secretive in his advancing age. In fact, his remaining confidantes begged him not to go, as his age was beginning to show and his physical prowess had obviously weakened much. Breac refused to listen to their pleas and set off anyway, his adventuring party in tow as always. Not a single one of them would return to tell the tale of Breac's apparent demise.
Years later one of Breac's confidantes would state in an interview that Breac had come to him a few days before his final department and confided in him how tired he had become. How he had spent years amassing his fortunes and then done nothing of good with it, he had become ashamed of who he had become, but he couldn't help it, the damn coin demanded that he continue down this cruel gold-lined path. Breac's friend asked him what he meant by that, not knowing of the coin he spoke of. In a strange moment of lucidity, Breac's dour mood lessened, and he would tell his friend of the story in which he had come into the possession of The Miser's Coin.
Breac would tell his friend about his last vacation, the one he had taken all those years ago, to his rented cabin in the hills of Casarei. The rented villa lay on a stretch of land close to the vineyards of Piocha, a beautiful place that sat below a stretch of tall rolling hills right on the shores of a pristine lake. He had spent a few days there lounging, relaxing, and taking in the beautiful sites as he did each spring. Until one night, a sudden and terrible storm rocked the cabin, shaking the timbers for a short but tumultuous hour, the waters of the lake crashing to and fro outside his window. But it would soon pass, and after assuring everything was still bolted down he returned to sleep.
He was unsure how long he slept for, but was woken by the sudden whispers of a voice pleading for help. Concerned for the wellbeing of the person calling to him he gathered himself, got dressed, and began to follow the cries of help. Before he realized it he was outside and travelling along the lakeside. He searched until the sun began to crest the hills near the cabin, he had become soaked from the knees down from walking along the lakefront for so long. But then, as the first rays of sun hit the waters of the lake, he saw the glint of something shiny in the water below his feet. He reached down and picked it up. A beautiful gold coin, he was unfamiliar with the origin of its printing, but the moment he picked it up the pleas for help ended. Unsure of what had just occurred he slid the coin into his pocket and returned to the cabin.
Thinking nothing of the coin that was now packed away in his luggage he would return home to Heldrin the following day. On the journey back he would begin to feel agitated, especially when faced with the expectant wagon driver, palm turned upwards awaiting his customary tip. He remembered thinking that this was such a petulant act, turning up your palm expecting a hand out just for doing the job you had already been hired and paid to do. Breac didn't even spare a thought to the fact that he had known this driver for years, and that he had tipped him each and every trip.
Soon after his return home, the thought of giving away any of his wealth became almost unbelievable, a ridiculous notion, why would he give away what he had earned. As these thoughts bloomed in his head, so did another. A desire for more. He needed it, no, he deserved more. All the wealth and treasures of the world, it should all be his, stowed away for safekeeping in his possesion. Breac would admit that this entire time the coin had been whispering these thoughts into his mind, though he was too daft to notice until many years later. And by then it was far too late, and he was already resigned to his fate.
Breac would go on to describe that over the years he would grow more and more paranoid about the safety of his treasure horde. But the coin coaxed his panic with a firm affirmation, telling him that it would not allow anyone to pry their treasure from their protection. Breac continued and told his friend that the coin had not lied and that it had imparted onto him magnificent powers to protect his treasure, despite his weakening physical form. Breac would admit to stopping several attempts of thievery against him and his treasure over the years, many of which he had used these powers to thwart.
When Breac's friend pressed him on the nature of these powers Breac's lucidity crumbled, and he broke into a violent outburst screaming that the thieves had met their justice under a wave of gold. Before his friend could respond, Breac's rage crescendoed and he began to trash the sitting room they were in before storming out of the room entirely to the utter bewilderment of his friend. Laomann Breac would depart only a few days later and he would never be seen again.
Nobody has ever discovered the location of where Laomann Breac went or the details of his demise. But a few short months after his disappearance the government of Heldrin 'discovered' that Breac and his company had not been properly paying taxes for decades. Adjusted for interest the ruling King of Heldrin at the time decided to confiscate Breac's entire fortune as just payment for the missed taxes. Breac's treasure was added to the
Royal Treasury of Kings underneath the Sumner Royal Grounds. Though legend has it that somewhere within the ruins of Laomann Breac's estate lies a secret vault that holds his most prized possession. Each having been secretly squirrelled away just in case his main vault was ever compromised.
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