The Throne Helmet

"Natural bodily functions are always going to be difficult on a delve. The food is always bad, which gets nasty fast if you're stuck behind the barbarian in the marching order. Leaving spoor and your water behind gives enemies something to track and always ends up attracting the wrong sort of predator. I once took up with a slightly bent ranger who took to whizzing in old potion bottles then leaving them behind. The next poor shmuck who came along and thought he's discovered a bottle of enhanced strength was going to be in for a real nasty surprise, lemme tell ya."

"And don't even get me started on the encumbrance problems of lugging quality tp down sixteen levels down into the Caverns of Schadenfreude. It ain't heavy, but it takes up a lot of room. While they might contain the rare spells of Salted Rain that you need to vanquish the Grand Leechmaster who's waiting for you down at the bottom of the Pits of Tormentium, those velum scrolls and books that the mage is lugging around start to look real tempting after ten levels of wiping your ass with cave rats."

"So this one guy I ran with for a while, Sir Shart Tyanet the Ablutioner, gets this specially made helm, crafted by the finest enchanters at the Wizardium of Nex. They made him a helm that transformed into a shitter! I kid you not!"

"Story is that Sir Shart got himself et by a Dire Moose somewhere in the twisted paths of the Morning Wood. Either someone came across the body and gave it a proper delver's looting, or else the Lyceum Enchanters spotted a market and made copies, cuz I've seen one or two since then."

"Now I appreciate the need for a little home comfort down there in the dark, but my question is ... where does the doody go once you've changed it back into a helm?"
             -Harb Sharptoes, Halfling Thief