Bewitching Brush

Wondrous item, rare

While using this magic paintbrush, you gain a +5 bonus to any ability check you make using painter's supplies. The brush has 3 charges and regains 1d3 expended charges daily at dawn.

When you paint with this brush for at least 1 hour on a single painting, you can choose to expend 1 of the brush's charges to imbue the painting with a simple magical compulsion (as if from a suggestion spell; no action required) for a target to feel when it beholds the work. Describe the intended target and compulsion; the descriptions can be specific ("The red-bearded dwarf known as Juth-raal should seek me out to apologize for swindling me") or generic ("A clerk of the art museum should take this and display it on a prominent wall for all to see"). When the target views the painting for the first time, it must immediately succeed on a DC 15 Wisdom saving throw or be compelled to fulfill the imparted compulsion. If the compulsion is out of character for the target, it has advantage on the saving throw, and if it can't be charmed, it automatically succeeds. The compulsion ends once its objective is met or after 24 hours have passed (whichever comes first). Regardless of whether or not the target succeeds on the saving throw, it is unaware of the effect or the origin of the compulsion.

Alternatively, you can impart a message of 100 words or fewer into the painting, instead of a compulsion. If you do, the intended target automatically receives the message telepathically when it views the painting for the first time, without making a saving throw. You can choose to let the target know who sent the message or remain anonymous.

The magic is expended from a painting once its compulsion or message is conveyed or after 3 days have passed.

It had been her father's brush, by which he made himself known, his name praised in hallowed galleries. Only when passed to her on his deathbed did she learn what that meant.

So she took it up, and with it both power and legacy. The legacy opened space for her works even in the halls of the mighty, but to her the power was not for them. So on each masterpiece she embedded hope, first for those she knew would see it—an estranged friend drawn suddenly to reach out to her again, or a lost love to seek amends—but soon for those she didn't know, yet knew would need it—to any lovelorn heart the drive to face their longing, or to a weary soul the will to go on.

Her father had called it a burden, and it was: one he'd borne alone. But a burden far outmatched by the hands she could uplift to help her heart bear it.