Mage Hand

An alchemist directs spectral hands to pour a volatile acid into a bubbling potion while they stand safely behind a pane of glass.

In the dead of night, a burglar mimes unlocking and opening a door and their magical hand performs the same action on the door from the inside.

Many arcanists can cast a simple spell to give themselves a Mage Hand. It takes the form of a disembodied, ghostly, flying hand, usually in the shape of the arcanist’s own. It is far from incorporeal despite its appearance and can be used like the arcanist’s own hand at a short distance.

As Mage Hand is significantly weaker than the average person and must be continuously directed by the arcanist, it is unsuitable for replacing a farmhand or labourer. Still, a village might have seen a particularly enterprising troupe of performers use it for stage effects.

The cantrip is a boon for those working with dangerous substances. More than one alchemist intent on inventing a new concoction has survived a magical explosion thanks to being able to work from across the room. Similarly, it is a standard part of the toolkit of professional curse-breakers, who never directly handle cursed items.

Some arcanists are utterly used to its convenience. They use the spell to stoke their fireplace, put on tea, fetch cookies from the jar, and open doors. Librarians in my city put it to less trivial use by fetching tomes from soaring shelves that span multiple floors.

Putting legitimate uses aside, Mage Hand is of tremendous value to both thieves and spies. When summoned, it can appear anywhere the arcanist chooses within a short range even if they can’t see the location. This allows someone to work locks and latches from the inside, enabling them to easily break into buildings that would otherwise be secure. It can be similarly used to pick pockets, steal valuables, and perform sabotage at a distance.

Due to the ubiquity of Mage Hand some safeguards are commonplace: doors have keyholes on both sides, windows are locked by key from the inside, and arcanists are hired to Arcane Lock any portals. The summoning requires an incantation that can be overhead so the affluent hire guards and less well-to-do communities form night watchmen groups.
 

Spare the Dying

One of the children falls out of the tree they were climbing and lands very wrong. Their sibling runs screaming to the local shrine to fetch the village priest.

On the battlefield a sombre cleric trails the advancing line of skirmish. Each fallen soldier the cleric touches and prays for ceases their bleeding. Their breath steadies as the cleric hurries on to another fallen. There is always another.

It is the most simple prayer. Every religion and every language has one. The words differ, but each calls on the divine for intercession to Spare the Dying. A few seconds spent praying staunches bleeding, steadies breath, and stabilises the wounded. Just enough to prevent the situation from worsening.

A village priest often fills the role of a first responder to mishaps. Someone fell out of a tree or was kicked by a temperamental horse, but a quick prayer turns a grievous injury into a long convalescence. You would be surprised at how many villages regularly engage in some sort of bucolic misadventure. This writer’s village chased a wheel of cheese down a steep hill each year. Many of the participants also ultimately rolled down the hill.

When festivities like these are known about in advance, a priest is usually on hand should anything unfortunate happen. Nobles engaging in sanctioned duels invite a priest to save the loser, should things go too far. Priests of the gods of honour and justice serve zealously. Others ensure their shrine receives a meaningful donation and stifle long-suffering sighs as they witness the dandies' bouts.

Citizens in the towns and cities are usually spoiled for choice. Most have priests from different faiths, numerous shrines, and likely a well-appointed temple or two. So, it can be quite a shock for these folk that there is no priest to run to in the smallest of settlements. In those small hamlets, people must rely on a local herbalist or lay healer.

At war, most nations have a decent-sized corps of priests willing to help in battle. Those following more militant gods are attached directly to fighting units. Those of peace-loving and pacifistic tendencies are attached to field hospital units. Even one low-ranking priest can work miracles by stabilising while triaging. This allows more puissant priests or lay doctors to deal with the maimed, hexed, or otherwise afflicted.

Assassins are likely its biggest detractors, though I do not personally know any. They have to be extra thorough and ensure their target is truly dead, not ‘merely’ lethally injured. Poison is even more common, getting around one limitation of the prayer.

Generally speaking, people know that Spare the Dying has its limitations. It can’t raise the dead, it won’t help against disease or the aforementioned poison, it can’t reverse natural causes like old age, and a touch is required to deliver the divine boon. Most people understand this well enough to not put themselves at extra risk. After all, it’s still possible a hurrying priest won’t make it to you in time. Others are a little more reckless for it.

Nonetheless, most breath a little easier knowing that should something the happen the odds are at least slightly in their favour.

1d10 Minor Wonders from some Lost Age

Each polity of the East is built atop the ruins of a failed civilization that was built atop the ruins of another failed civilization that built atop the ruins of ... you get the idea. All but the most hidebound societies inherit or unearth some artifacts of their antecedents. Some are even fortunate enough to not find the disruptive technologies that caused the fall of the previous society. Here are 10 such (mostly) safe things. Your character might find one of these things unremarkable, while other people from other places would stare at it in slack-jawed wonder.

Roll	Wonder
1	Self-bearing palanquin. Enough room for two passengers to recline luxuriously. Often curtained. Glides smoothly a foot above the ground. Bobs gently when stationary. Doesn't handle sudden changes in elevation well.
2	Multi-faceted memory crystal. Can be played and broadcast by shining a focused light through it. Records via empathic imprint.
3	Helpful spirit. Happily at home inside a black, fist-sized, perforated orb. Able keep notes and reminders, do simple math, and provide directions within its home city to old landmarks.
4	Cornucopia. Glittering specks of metal suspending in liquid. When exposed to air it transmutes into whatever non-wondrous item the wielder desires (though nothing larger than two Inventory Slots).
5	Whispering beetles. Centimetre-wide insects. Speaking to one causes your speech to be issued forth from the other beetles in the same brood. They grow loyal to owners who feed and take care of them and will not reveal your secrets under duress.
6	Eidetic. A slave raised from birth to recall and recite the text of a book, verbatim. It's as important to them as holy scripture is to a priest.
7	Golem-songbirds. Swarm of synthetic birds controlled by a puppeteer. The wind rushing through their wirework bodies is beautiful even as their knife-like beaks slash targets to ribbons.
8	A universal word. One word in your people's language that has been shared with, stolen by, or loaned to all other languages.
9	Unquenchable flame. Does not grow without fuel, but does burn without it.
10	Anchor dog. Any attempted teleportation or planar travel beginning or ending in a few miles around the dog cause the traveller to be dumped at the dog's feet.