Treatise of the Three Spheres (Grimoires of Wermspittle)

Appearance
The cover is composed of three heavily-hinged cast-iron panels with a thick Bruthem-Leather interior-lining. A sculpted lock in the form of a grotesquely leering pseudo-satyr bars access to the Treatise by any impudent would-be perusers incapable of overcoming a simple Lock spell.

It is rumored that the lock attempts to bite anyone attempting to open the Treatise by any other means, or if their attempt to overcome the Lock spell fails. It is rumored that the thing's bite might be poisonous, vampiric or both...or something worse.

The entire Treatise weighs just over 800 pounds and is roughly 1' by 3/4' by 11" thick. It has 150 hit-points, is immune to acid, fire and most forms of corrosion, and it permanently radiates a Triple-Shadow.

[Treatise of the Three Spheres; Level 6, INT 17, EGO 21, AC 3, HP 150,  ---]

Known Risks
Heavy, awkward and has a tendency to increase in encumbrance over time when carried about. Initiative is reduced by -1, Encumbrance is doubled and/or Movement is halved, and all healing takes twice as long as normal for anyone involved in transporting the Treatise. This effect is well documented, so few who are in the know ever attempt to move the Treatise and most scholars will insist on studying it right where it was found, which can often lead to all manner of headaches and trouble for those involved in keeping said scholars safe and undisturbed.

Despite being extremely troublesome to move, the Treatise has a tendency to disappear from wherever it has been located after 1d4 days despite any and every effort to anchor it or keep in from shifting to a new location.


Suspected Rewards
The Treatise is the only known/recorded source for the means to gain access (Attunement or otherwise) to a set of three Otherplanar Regions listed as Allrakallim, Ruttillon, and Vattej. No one is quite sure if these are distinct Planes unto themselves, or sub-regions of some obscure plane(s), or something else like perhaps some sort of nested or linked set or Demiplanes.

Anyone able to settle the academic disputes and scholarly conjecture surrounding this rare tome might find themselves faced with quite a good deal of acclaim and recognition within those rarefied circles that ponder and obsess over such matters...and no doubt gain a few enemies as well since providing definitive facts often tend to explode pet theories and can derail careers built upon opinion and conjecture based solely on second-hand accounts...


Notes
The Treatise is completely impervious to all known forms of Divination and all Location Determining spells...as are anyone directly involved in the study of the text for as long as they keep reading.

So far no one authority agrees as to what language(s) were used in the transcribing of this Treatise. Few have ever been able to get very far in studying the thing without recourse to one or more spells.

The first actual spell encountered in the Treatise appears to be some sort of Summoning that draws the attention of 3d6 Thysanurians for some reason...and failure to decipher/translate this spell seems to prevent would-be readers progressing any further. Successfully copying the spell is a complicated and time-consuming process that more often than not takes longer than the time allowed, for this reason some impatient academics have resorted to simply casting the summons and hoping their hired mercenaries and defenders can handle the onslaught of Thysanurians while they attempt to delve deeper into the mysteries of this cryptic Treatise. So far most such attempts for which there are any surviving records seem to have failed for one reason or another...

Twelve Lesser Servitors of Kudara

Of t all the myriad hosts that lurk or prowl about the threshold of the world of mortal beings, waiting for the call of whosoever would dare to become their master, if only for an hour or for the commission of one desperate act, the twelve beings recorded by Kudara within the Scroll of Seven Scintillant Shadows remain a mainstay of many a sorcerer's arcane arsenal.

---

Call of the Twelve
Level: 2
Duration: 1 Round +1 round per two levels of caster
Range: 20'
Caster causes a glimmering black dodecahedral umbralith to form between their outstretched hands. The twelve-faces of the object correspond to a particular minor plane and the caster suffers 1d4 damage per round that they hold onto the thing. Once cast, the umbralith crumbles as it rolls and randomly summons forth one creature per level of the caster, each with 2 HD. Only those beings specified by Kudara can be summoned by this method. Tampering with the underlying structure of the spell is strenuously discouraged. Exploration of Kudara's spells in particular are best left to advanced students working under direct supervision.

---

Kudara also provided instructions for fashioning alternative forms of Umbraliths for use in a variety of summoning operations, unfortunately much of her work was lost in the Fall of Urnassos during the Eleven Year War. Kudara herself died in a refugee camp on the outskirts of Wermspittle from Black Smoke inhalation. Quite a number of spurious works and dangerous forgeries bearing her name have cropped up ever since.

---

Twelve Lesser Servitors of Kudara

1. Oltrinnugarri. Inscrutable twelve-limbed land-dwelling pseudoctopi savages with six eyes, the Oltrinnugarri wield slender wire-wrapped javelins and poisoned darts with exceptional accuracy (+1 to hit). Unfortunately the poison that coats their darts tends to be nullified by their transition into this strata of reality. They are immune to Charms and most coercive spells. When summoned, the caster can only point to a foe or a direction and get out of the way. It is rumored that if more than three Oltrinnugarri are called forth at the same time, they might have the means to hold open the connection and call more of their cold-blooded brethren through the aperture. So far there has been no record of such a thing happening, but still, one does wonder.
   
   [AL C, MV 90' (90'), AC 6, HD 2, #AT 1d4, DG 1d4+1 per javelin/dart, SV F2, ML 6]
2. Ujjaleer. A massive mound of slow-moving green sand that wails mournfully as it drifts against the wind at an odd angle. Whether it is sentient or not is pointless; this sand is highly toxic and seems to be attracted to all forms of water. It abrades everyone within a 12' radius for 1d4 damage, those so damaged need to Save at -1 penalty against the contaminants in the sand, failure indicates that the wounds inflicted by the Ujjaleer's abrasive attacks become necrotic (double previous damage), success allows the wounds to crust-over to leave gruesome scars that will throb painfully near other planar portals and the like.
3. Blue Eels. Screeching, gasping predators from a vast ocean realm, these beasts flop about fitfully outside of the waters of their home. There are those who suspect that this is a flawed transcription error, that these aren't the creatures actually intended to be called by Kudara.
   
   [AL N, MV 90' (30'), AC 6, HD 2, #AT 1, DG 1d4 (bite), SV F1, ML 3]
4. Pojigon. Maroon and ochre ape-things in octagon-linked chain-mail, wielding crescent-shaped bardiches, muskets and war-clubs. They are the descendants of a mercenary band of Marmosets stranded far away from their ancestral lands due to the treachery of a duplicitous abhuman sorcerer they know only by the name 'Naragol.' Punctilious and professional, the Pojigon will seek to accept the surrender of any foe they face under the command of a summoner.
   
   [AL L, MV 120' (40'), AC 4, HD 2, #AT 1, DG 1d6+1/3d4/1d4+1, SV F2, ML 10]
5. Glivver Pok. Garishly-plumed six-limbed weasels who chitter insanely as they seek to gnaw or claw their designated prey into gibbets of raw, red flesh. They really, really like the color red, but are not intelligent enough to attempt to barter or parley. They simply attack until killed or the summons expires.
   
   [AL C, MV 150' (50'), AC 6, HD 2, #AT 2 or 1, DG 1d4/1d4 or 1d6 (bite), SV T2, ML 8. Special: If for any reason the Glivver Pok taste the caster's blood, they gain the ability to summon themselves back to that spell-caster once again.]
6. Green Snails. Fat, bulbous green snails in iron-reinforced war-shells. They wield special dart-knives attached to their reproductive organs, which they plunge into the bodies of their opponents. Sedentary and flabby, they prefer to watch over things or to perform guard duties when possible. Each time a specific caster summons the Green Snails, they accrue an additional 5% chance of attracting the attention of the Snail's masters.
   
   [AL N, MV 30' (10'), AC 2, HD 2, #AT 1, DG 2d4+1, SV F2, ML 4. Special: Take double damage from salt-based attacks.]
7. Yiggo Bosh. Levitating yellow and white-banded anemone-things. The Yiggo Bosh despise all beings exhibiting bilateral symmetry. They can lash out in any direction, up to a distance of 10' and deliver a painful sting that ignores any organic material used as armor. Metals cause them 1d4 damage on contact. They fear mirrors and will seek to flee if confronted by reflective surfaces.
   
   [AL C, MV 60', AC 6, HD 2, #AT 1d4, DG 1d4+poison per attack (Save or take double damage), SV MU 2, ML 6 (drops to 2 if presented a mirror).]
8. Ochre Swarm. A buzzing cloud of translucent flies. They are blind, but capable to sensing body heat. they swarm their intended victims in an attempt to fill their guts to bursting.
   
   [AL N, MV 90', AC 8, HD 2, #AT 1, DG (Special), SV MU 2, ML 11. Special: Swarm Attack roll 1d4 and consult following--1) Take 2d4 damage. Save to take half. 2) Take 1d4 damage per round. If victim takes in excess of 10 points of damage, they take an additional 3d6 from ruptured stomach. Save for half. 3) Take 3d4 damage. Successful Save indicates reflexive vomiting expels swarm before it can do further damage. Victim unconscious for 1d4 Turns. 4) Take 2d4 damage. Save or take double damage.]
9. Rudigoth. Blue-salt encrusted skeletons of vaguely humanoid beings with overly-long limbs and egg-shaped and crested skulls. They flicker with the dim memory of lives exhausted in their perpetual service to merciless deities best not named. Those they slay, they take back with them.
   
   [AL N, MV 90' (30'), AC 5, HD 2, #AT 1, DG 1d4 +2 (cold-metal spears), SV F2, ML 10. Special: Immune to all mind-influencing spells. Cannot be turned, only destroyed.]
10. Pelx. Dun colored four-legged and four armed mice with four digits on each limb. They constantly mutter and whine to themselves, switching to another language once they realize anyone can understand them. Each of their four eyes glows with a virulent form of gray energy that corrodes magically-embedded items as though they were so much zinc in an acid bath. Their bite is poisonous, causing the victim's skin to slough off in nasty strips.
    
    [AL C, MV 120' (40'), AC 5, HD 2, #AT 1, DG 1d6 weapon or bite for 1d4 + Poison (Save of take 1d4 per round for 1d4 rounds as skin sloughs off), SV MU 2, ML 6]
11. Sadinax. Sixteen-foot tall, four-ton walruses who carve their great scything tusks into skrimshaw totems. Their hide is thick and heavily scarred, often deliberately scarred to show their history and to commemorate great battles, and so forth. Called forth by this spell, The Call of the Twelve, they will not deign to serve, but instead will send twice the usual number of 2' tall shaggy, spindly lemur-like hominids clad in rattan armor and wielding an assortment of smaller forms of combat cutlery. These nameless, mindless creatures charge screaming into battle, frothing at the lips and heedless of any and all threats. They collapse into frothy masses of gray foam that leaves a sweet-smelling black sediment wherever they fall in battle.
    
    [AL N, MV 120' (40'), AC 5, HD 2, #AT 2, DG 1d4/1d4, SV F2, ML n/a: Frenzied.]
12. Jonnov. Bipedal turtle-things with no visible head or face. They waddle into battle with an uncanny sense of their immediate surroundings that makes it all but impossible to surprise them. They are grenadiers and crossbow-users, preferring to keep their enemies at a distance as much as possible. Pink gill-lung palps are located beneath their arms, retracted into the shell during combat.
    
    [AL N, MV 90' (30'), AC 3, HD 2, #AT 1, DG 1d6 or 3d6 (affects 12' radius), SV F2, ML 10]

Spell: Sottarix's Six Clouds

Sottarix's Six Clouds
Level: 4
Duration: 10 minutes per level of caster
Range: n/a
The caster spews forth a dense, noisome mass of fumes from their finger-tips. The fumes coalesce into one of six different types of clouds, depending upon the specific gestures employed in casting the spell. The cloud produced by this casting tends to extend outward to a diameter of approximately 20 feet. The caster can direct the billowing mass of vapors in whichever direction they choose, by still more gestures. The cloud moves at a rate of 10 feet per round, and can extend out to a maximum of 40 feet before the cloud dissipates.

---

Obscure, yet occasionally useful, despite its obvious limitations, Sottarix's Six Clouds is an uncredited revision of Dying Breath, which explains much. The caster intending to make use of this spell must first prepare themselves accordingly: First, they must not breathe in the fumes they are about to unleash, either resorting to the use of a gas mask or some spell that alleviates their need to breathe. Secondly, they must remain stationary for the duration of the spell. Thirdly, the caster must be willing and able to sacrifice 1d4 hit points of damage to their hands in order to cast the spell as presented by Sottarix.

Rumors persist of a so-called 'Seventh Gesture', the use of which eliminates the third condition. If anyone has ascertained what this gesture is, they have not published anything in any of the professional journals, nor has it passed through any sort of peer review.

---

The Six Clouds of Sottarix

1. Dingy grayish-green vapors curl and swirl around the caster, obscuring them from view and causing a peculiar desaturation-effect to the visual senses of those who come into contact with the cloud. Victims who fail their Save are stricken blind for 1d4 turns per level of the caster. Those who succeed find themselves only able to see in shades of grayish-green for twice as long. In either case, those affected by the cloud suffer a lingering -2 penalty to hit the caster until such time as they receive a Cure Disease or Remove Curse. The caster's hands are permanently stained a progressively darker greenish-gray each time they cast the spell.
2. Hot, blue steam rapidly, almost explosively, fills the designated space, inflicting 1d4 scalding damage to anyone caught within its area of effect. A Save is allowed, however, success means that the damage inflicted shifts to freezing instead. Once someone is harmed by this cloud, the caster gains the ability to force the cloud to settle upon one particular victim, inflicting an additional 3d4 damage, but terminating the spell immediately. If this victim succeeds on their Save, the caster takes half the indicated damage instead.
3. Highly acidic, dense yellowish-brown fumes billow forth from the caster with a most unpleasant hissing as they roll along the ground. Those caught-up in the fumes suffer 1d4 damage per level of the caster, a successful Save does nothing, a failed Save doubles the damage. The area affected by this cloud tends to get saturated with acids that cause 2d4 damage to anyone coming into contact with the acidified area for the next 1d4 hours. The caster must Save or incur a -1 penalty to all subsequent Saves involving acids and/or damaging gasses for the next 1d4 hours, failing that Save extends the penalty to 1d4 days.
4. Deep purple smoke boils wickedly across the ground with a ponderous, thunderous rumbling. The cloud emanates Darkness (as per the spell) to the full extent of its reach. Those caught within the cloud are struck deaf for 1d4 turns and must Save or be rendered sterile, incapable of being cloned, raised, reanimated or resurrected. Failing the Save means they suffer all the above and in addition they cannot be healed by spells or potions without vomiting forth more of the deep purple smoke (affecting a 5' diameter area). The lingering unpleasantness cannot be relieved by Remove Curse nor by Cure Disease, but will eventually wear off in 1d4 days. The caster who resorts to this version of the spell automatically suffers a lingering purple derangement to their cells, making any offspring or clone they produce most likely to collapse into a non-viable tumorous mass.
5. Putrid green fog fills the designated space, causing all manner of disconcerting echoes and reducing visibility to less than 3', as well as hampering the olfactory senses of even the most hardened scavenger. This cloud is incredibly flammable, but will not ignite until the caster gives the proper gestural command. Once set aflame, the cloud inflicts 3d4 damage on everyone caught within it. If they Save, the damage is 1d4 per turn for three turns. If they fail, it is all at once.
6. Damp, sweet and sickly-smelling, this roseate nimbus of delicate vapors infiltrates every fabric, fur and most other organic materials, causing a persistent perfume-like stench to linger for 1d4 weeks. Those affected by this cloud take 1 hp of damage per round they remain exposed to it, for the duration of the spell. All things of the color red are considered effectively invisible so long as they remain within the cloud's area of effect. Those who cast this version of the spell suffer 1d4 damage each time they come into contact with the color blue for the next 1d4 hours.

| Index of Spells |

More Suspicious Manuscripts and Decaying Texts (Wermspittle)

There was a formula—a sort of list of things to say and do—which I recognised as something black and forbidden; something which I had read of before in furtive paragraphs of mixed abhorrence and fascination penned by those strange ancient delvers into the universe’s guarded secrets whose decaying texts I loved to absorb. It was a key—a guide—to certain gateways and transitions of which mystics have dreamed and whispered since the race was young, and which lead to freedoms and discoveries beyond the three dimensions and realms of life and matter that we know. Not for centuries had any man recalled its vital substance or known where to find it, but this book was very old indeed. No printing-press, but the hand of some half-crazed monk, had traced these ominous Latin phrases in uncials of awesome antiquity.

The Book,

by H. P. Lovecraft

---

Suspicious Manuscripts & Decaying Texts from Wermspittle (Another Twenty)

1. A folio containing six etchings and a jumbled set of pages that can be reassembled into a complete copy of the raw manuscript for Ebenazzeren's reviled and repudiated 'Ghoulatria.'
2. The entire unexpurgated classical long-form rendition of the Transition Into Blood transcribed from the traditional Aklo into Burzim and Aulranni on a line-by-line basis. If properly carried out, the supplicant transforms themselves into a Corpuscular Sludge for the next one hundred seventy eight years.
3. Sixteen pages of crudely cobbled-together collages interspersed with the cut-up and jumbled lines of what appears to be a sort of nonsense spell of some sort, possibly intended for some sort of protest or happening. The spell spontaneously casts on any roll of '6' on a d6 which is rolled for each page examined. The spell transforms the reader's feet into the claws of a human-scale raven for 3d6 hours.
4. The last two-thirds of what remains from a doctoral dissertation regarding the 'Twelve Lesser Gateways of Orlovon.' The pagination is skewed due to constant revision and each page bears the name, initials and personal academic sigil of the author at least three times, sometimes more often. Unfortunately every single one of these identifying marks has been scrambled and defaced by some rival's or displeased mentor's unkind spell of selective revision. The text itself remains as excruciatingly dense and convoluted as it ever was and attempting to read it requires a CON check every 1d20 pages, failure results in the reader becoming totally incapable of understanding anything in the manuscript, success costs the reader 1 point of WIS, which they can regain after 3d4 weeks of refraining from all reading. This manuscript does not make a great gift.
5. A shabby brown envelope packed with all the working notes for a rough-draft guide to the numerous varieties of freshwater fish commonly found in many of the cellars of Wermspittle.
6. A small privately-printed pamphlet explaining the dangers of Black Smoke. Luridly illustrated with antiquated cartoons for the functionally illiterate. The last two pages contain a non-verbal schematic for the spell Repel Black Smoke.
7. Here, in this set of loose pages, is a ferocious critique on 'The Ovulant Oratories of Ulludram,' scathingly penned by a person identifying themselves only as 'a member of the Sixth Spiral of Sumbralle.' Anyone reading more than three pages is rendered sterile for the next three years. It's that scathing.
8. A Morlock grimoire. [Alatris, CE, 36hp, INT 14, Psyche 10, Willpower 26, Casts: Cause Fear and Black Touch once per day. Communicates telepathically, but only with carnivores. Contains 11 spells, but despairs of ever gaining any more, as its master is dead, having been devoured by a rival. A successful Reaction Roll could persuade Alatris to consider taking on a new master.]
9. Fifteen sheets of musical notation for a sonata from some banned play titled 'Black Stars Over Bezgradt'; in-between each bar of music someone has daintily and diligently written-out all twelve sections of the Transition Into Night. The Second Section is flawed and summons 1d4 Grunters. The Fifth Section can be extracted and used in conjunction with a shewstone or crystal egg to allow the caster to look upon the so-called Nightland. 
10. A detailed and comprehensive comparative analysis of the latrine-digging techniques employed by seven of the world's largest armies.
11. A three-inch-thick slab of ultra-methodical lab notes. Once the blood is cleaned off, they show that there is a marked relationship between the pollen of the Red Weeds and the so-called Red Death, at least in 38% of the involuntary test-subjects subjected to this particular round of unlicensed experiments. There are only numbers used for the 198 unsuspecting people affected by this particular instance of back-alley malpractice.
12. An extensive set of notes and anatomical diagrams drawn from experiments with live Voormiks that were summoned for the purpose by agents of a clandestine medical-espionage unit operating behind enemy lines during the Altwater Occupation. All the names have been sorcerously redacted by a professionally-cast 5th level spell. There is a detailed discussion of how to modify certain sections of the standard Summon Voormik spell so that it selectively summons or banishes only specified portions of their anatomies. The actual summoning spell is not given; it is assumed that anyone reading these notes would already have it equipped.
13. Eighty-three lavender-tinted pages expound upon the wonders of attaining the state of consciousness referred to as 'Nrogesh.' The pages make excellent cigarettes or toilet paper. The breathless, florid prose remains steadfast in defeating the reader's comprehension, requiring a full seven readings before any small vestige of what the author is going on about is even partially divulged. It is perhaps of some interest to the would-be reader that in at least three classic Eloi children's chant-stories 'Nrogesh' is used in a very negative context. Uttering the word to any given Eloi causes them to roll a Reaction Check with a -4 penalty.
14. A soldier's hand-written instructions for crafting various types of Salt Shot using Achromic Powder.
15. A heavily pitted and discolored copper scroll-tube with a Fifty-Three page manuscript wrapped around it and held in-place by a length of slightly gummy penguin tendon tied in the traditional Tsalalian manner. The 'scroll tube' unrolls and is actually a scroll. The manuscript is someone's working notes towards a lexicon of the Ablunji family of pre-diasporic Tsalalian. There are three spells inscribed into the copper scroll, but each one is broken-up into sections and discussed with densely-packed technical annotations that remain untranslated as they appear to be in some other language entirely, possibly an obscure form of Aklo. The spells can be learned within 1d4 weeks, if one studies the lexicon first. Use of Read Magic will obliterate the copper scroll. There is a note to this effect jotted in the margins of the lexicon. Originally, there was another scroll. The three spells are: Call Penguins, Idiot Pipes, and Black Seal.
16. This set of coarse gray pages contains elaborately annotated and extensively revised hand-written instructions for a series of increasingly bizarre rituals leading up to the 'Opening of the Gateway to Valadoz,' including a version of the infamous 'Birth-Call of Ulveer-Quoz,' that never appeared in any of the standard texts. The gray material this manuscript is written upon becomes gelatinous and restless when exposed to moonlight.
17. Transcription of a primitive lay originally set down in Gurgurlim by a sect of abhuman songwriter-monks. Performing the verses in an appropriately sonorous drone, preferably in an attic at night, grants the singer a cumulative 10% chance to gain a shadow-companion that will never willingly leave them ever again. Botching the performance, such as droning off-key causes the companion-shadow to either flee or attack, depending on how badly one flubs the rite.
    

    [Companion-Shadow (AL N, MV 90' (30'), AC 7, HD 2+2, #AT 1, DG 1d4 (or by spell), SV M3, ML 10. Special: Can only communicate with the one they are bonded with. These are extra-planar entities, NOT undead. They can earn 1 extra HD per three levels their companion gains while accompanied. Roll for INT and WIS; if attributes are sufficient, the Companion-Shadow can learn spells as a spell-caster of level equal to their current HD.]

18. A sheaf of much-highlighted notes from a student's efforts to compile a class presentation on what they refer to as 'The Wilde Method of Repairing Reputations,' whatever that might be. The paper smells subtly of cat urine. The last page is blood-stained. Two-thirds of the notes refer to obscure entities and characters from what appears to be a play or an opera, obviously not a serious work of scholarship. There is a steel key and two tickets to the Circus taped to the back of the sixteenth page. There is also a hastily drawn map showing the directions to an armorer's shop on Cassilda Street.
19. Soft red pages with a strong metallic scent. Each one is folded six times. However many you started out with, as you unfold each one, you get to re-roll 3d6 to determine how many there are. It's a work of propaganda, some sort of subversive mini-comic aimed at the rank and file of the Grand Army of Nagrothea and contains a great deal of necromantic humor only someone from that region could really appreciate. Everyone else must make a Reaction Check (-2 penalty), a positive result means they suffer mild nausea for 1d4 minutes, a negative reaction means that the reader is incapacitated for the next 1d4 hours as they vomit forth their guts. They'll never understand. They also gain a permanent -1 on all Reaction Rolls involving Nagrotheans from now on.
20. Instructions for achieving the Transition Into Bonelessness, whereby the reader renders themselves completely boneless for the next 1d4 hours just by reading the first 6 pages.

Werm-Riddled Manuscripts (Wermspittle)

There was a formula—a sort of list of things to say and do—which I recognised as something black and forbidden; something which I had read of before in furtive paragraphs of mixed abhorrence and fascination penned by those strange ancient delvers into the universe’s guarded secrets whose decaying texts I loved to absorb. It was a key—a guide—to certain gateways and transitions of which mystics have dreamed and whispered since the race was young, and which lead to freedoms and discoveries beyond the three dimensions and realms of life and matter that we know. Not for centuries had any man recalled its vital substance or known where to find it, but this book was very old indeed. No printing-press, but the hand of some half-crazed monk, had traced these ominous Latin phrases in uncials of awesome antiquity.

The Book,

by H. P. Lovecraft

---

(10) Werm-Riddled Manuscripts: Probably Forbidden, Mostly Nameless and Otherwise Suspiciously Cheap...

1. Torn and smelly, this wad of crumbling old ages is secured into a messy sheaf by a rusty pin that has been driven through the entire stack of pages as though by a hammer or lump of dense rock. None of the pages are in consecutive order and whatever sequence seems to be in effect changes from reading to reading. The thing self-randomizes, switching languages even as it takes on a different page order, even the number of pages tends to change. It costs the permanent sacrifice of one 4th Level spell slot to read this manuscript all the way through in one evening, and doing so prematurely ages the reader by 4d10 years. What the reader gains...is the ability to claim one randomly determined spell in their personal repertoire as an At Will Ability that can be used as many times in a given 26-hour period as they have levels as a spell-caster.
2. Forty-three blank pages of high-quality paper all clipped together and affixed with a note written in blood-stained Garadic script, very neatly penned with a crisp nib. The note references Thumallian's Third Trance-State. Apparently, if the reader attempts to read this manuscript while in this particular trance-state, it will reveal its secret text.
3. Sixty-seven pages torn from a madman's diary or personal journal.  Each one contains the same sequence of tight, spidery non-letters that sprawl across the page in a most disturbing, unsavory manner. The curious script employed in this manuscript cannot be read by a rational mind. One must be mad in the first place in order to decipher the thing.
4. Five neatly-folded comics sections taken from a newspaper over a hundred years out of date. The paper is yellowing from more than just aging badly. Wrapped-up in those comics is an editorial section written in one of the most vile forms of Yellow Journalism. The very paper itself is saturated in the effluent left-over from the production of Yellow Wallpaper. This is highly toxic stuff, gone even more rancid and pernicious with age.
   

   [Reading/handling the crumbling Comics Pages require a Save at -1, failure inflicts Confusion on the reader for the next 3d6 hours. Success halves the duration. Examination of the Editorial Section requires a Save at -4, failure instills a very visceral -4 Charisma reaction against all members of a particular ethnic or political group. Success imprints the victim with a -2 Reaction Modifier against two such groups. In either case, the reader's hands are permanently stained a distinct yellowish tint, they are more prone to experiencing a distracting sort of melancholy when exposed to anything political (Save or 'lose' 1d10 minutes in a distracted state, unless engaged in vigorous activity), and they suffer a permanent -1 penalty on all Saves in relation to all White Powder derivatives.]

5. An old broadsheet advertising Doktor Malinkorov's Marvelous Medicinal Mortifactant. On the back someone has carefully illustrated all the steps required to fashion a set of Illudrian bone-lamellar armor, including how to properly attune the rig to various spectra of necromantic energies that Nagrothean Censors tend to expurgate from all modern texts.
6. Twenty-Six Hundred cardamom-scented foolscap pages packed into a heavy cardboard box reinforced with thin metal bands. Each page is densely scribbled upon and most who look upon these translucent pages for the first time are tempted to pass them over as meaningless. Those who persist in their examination go on to discover that each page contains a single self-contained statement drawn-out in one continuous line.
   

   [Upon initial examination, roll an Attribute Check against INT; need to succeed to go any further. Each set of 1d20 pages examined after a successful INT check grants the reader a cumulative 1% bonus to comprehend the secrets embedded in these labyrinth-like pages. The reader may attempt to comprehend the manuscript any time they like, rolling a D% and adding-on whatever bonus they've accumulated. Success means that they are now immune to the effects of the Maze spell. Failure means that they've been trapped within the manuscript itself for as many days as they have INT. Each day trapped within the manuscript costs them 1d12 months of aging. Once a reader has failed to comprehend this manuscript, further study is considered pointless. However there are hints whispered between certain book-sellers and librarians and those who seek after strange secrets that if one were to persist to the very end that there indeed are deep secrets buried in this manuscript. Whether or not there actually are, remains a matter of speculation. At least until someone conclusively makes it through the entire thing successfully.]

7. Nine black pages edged with gold. The first three are empty. Wiped clean by tears. Do you dare to read the fourth page to find out why?
8. Mold-stained and horribly creased, this manuscript has been stuffed into a rotten canvas courier bag for several years. Only thirty-five pages remain in the bag. The rest have been lost. There is no index, no table of contents, no title page. Half the pages are illegible. What remains appear to be diagrams and formulae for attracting the attentions of some sort of extra-dimensional form of sentient mold. Each page that gets handled inflicts a cumulative -1 penalty on the reader's Save against being poisoned. The mold on these pages will require a fresh Save after every 1d4 pages examined. Should the reader fail their Save, the mold spreads into their skin. Or rather under their skin. This mold isn't particularly sentient, at least not yet, but now that someone has volunteered to be its host, it will slowly devour their INT and WIS and CHAR until it achieves a cold, cruel form of consciousness that will replace everything they lose to the process.
   

   [This is no simple parasite. It is a symbiotic organism. One that gives as good as it gets, if not better. The victim feels no pain from the process whatsoever. If anything they feel more clear-headed and awake than ever before in their life, even gaining a +1 bonus to all INT & WIS checks, and Immunity to all forms of illusion, charms and hypnosis. The mold integrates itself into the host's flesh, eventually replacing their entire skin and giving them a very distinctive appearance, one apprentice has described as being akin to "...a waxy coating over mottled patches of lint, ashes and chalk dust." Each week from the moment of infection, the host must make a Save, failure meaning that they suffer a loss of 1 CHAR point, success causes them 1d4 damage and intermittent but intense vertigo that somehow only strikes whenever they attempt to cast a spell or try to read. Upon reaching a CHAR score of 3, the host's mind, brain and body have been completely consumed, they get to re-roll all their stats and begin life as a new being. It is unclear whether their soul survives this transformation, or if it is somehow destroyed, displaced or simply replaced. The new entity that is produced by this process does seem to possess a soul, but it is definitely not the original host's, that much was proven in a battery of experiments conducted by Franidar, Murleff and Clevong under the aegis of the Grenavior Occupation. Unfortunately, most of their records were subsequently lost in the course of their trial for war crimes.]

9. Sixteen feet of coarsely-knotted rough twine securely holds together a stack of rough-edged sheets of pressed yellow-green seaweed, block-printed with a range of grotesque trapezoidal glyphs unlike anything most bibliophiles are ever likely to see in the waking world. The ink is thick upon the fibrous pages. Redolent of Purple Amber. The glyphs are generally indecipherable as they are not rational constructs, but rather a complex cluster of praeterhuman oneiro-tactile intuition-stimulae with a tendency to unlock deeply repressed memories and long suppressed trauma in those who brood upon them for more than a few minutes quick glance. The glyphs have been bound into the loose pages of this manuscript well past their tolerance for such things. They desire to be set free. Will you release them?
10. One Hundred pages of poor quality typewriter-paper wrapped-up in the entrails of three large toads. The whole thing reeks of burnt flesh -- the typewriter ribbon used for this manuscript was derived from Black Smoke. Roughly a third of the pages have been ruined by exposure to water. What remains is a first-person account of the siege of Tarlonna composed by a Morlock combat-engineer who lost more than just their left arm at that historic battle. Perusing these pages will require experience with a great deal of intellectually opaque Morlock military slang, hence why the seven publishers it was submitted to all rejected it out of hand. The rejection slips are interspersed randomly through the manuscript as bookmarks denoting sections requiring extra attention, editing and revision.

Triple Circle

The Tripartite Treatise of the Turquoise Titmouse contains within its off-blue pages of thin-shaved fungal-parchment an account of the 'Triple Circle.' In most editions and copies this rite is ascribed to 'Thillidon,' 'Quillodin,' 'Rhillijin,' or one of the obviously spurious Kedradarns, either the Younger, Elder, or The One Who Knew Better. It is only the worm-bound, hand-copied and illuminated recension of this obscure esoteric text that attributes the 'Triple Circle' to a minor occult scholar known only by his pseudonym 'Daarlik.' It is the version of the 'Triple Circle' found only in one of the three extant copies of the worm-bound edition of this text that was adopted into the curriculum of the Academy of Occult Arts & Sciences in Wermspittle.

(Note: Octoscholars do not normally have access to this version of the ritual, and though they would offer to reward handsomely anyone bringing it to them, there is talk of a curse upon anyone doing so, which has curtailed most casual interest in possibly attempting this particular transaction.)

Triple Circle (Variant III: Daarlik's Revision)
Prerequisites: Hex-spindle Defensive Ward, Triple-Shadow, and Ectoplasmic Wall
Prescribed Paraphenalia: Three sticks of 'calcinated bronze,' three lantern-cages (one purple, one orange, one green--either enameled or draped with a suitable cloth), three Koponu.
Favorable Aspects: Via Combusta, any transit with strongly aspected Mutable signs or a predominance of Fire, all conjunctions taking place in a Fire-dominated House or Sign (especially if it involves any Mutable signs).

The Given Procedure
After observing all the usual preparations and oblations, the ritualist is to inscribe the figure of the three intersecting circles, complete with their respective symbols, using one purified stick of 'calcinated bronze' to draw-out each circle, one after the other. No specific order or sequence is offered, but it is considered efficacious to do this moving in a clock-wise fashion, but this may be simple and unimaginative adherence to out-moded dogma.

Once the figure is inscribed, it is then purified with fire, incense and sea water...only the text does not keep these items in strictly the same order, and there is some confusion as to a note specifying '...rain water mixed with sweat...' that has been added into the margins by Daarlik or possibly someone else.

The ritualist then casts the Hex-spindle Ward at the center-junction of the three circles, but holds it in abeyance by sheer act of willpower and concentration. While holding this defensive bulwark at the ready, the caster must use Ectoplasmic Wall to re-inscribe the three-fold figure completely and without error, then cast Triple-Shadow. They are presumed to then allow the Hex-spindle Ward to fully manifest, but the text is vague and does not explicitly say one way or another.

It is at this point that the Koponu lantern-cages are to be unveiled -- of course no previous notation was made that they should indeed be covered, outside of a brief mention that an appropriately colored cloth could be used in place of enameling on the cages. It is also unclear as to how this unveiling is to be accomplished--telekinesis? A pre-arranged signal for the Koponu to drag off their cloths? Assistants who perhaps stand-by each of the lamp-stands and uncover them at the cue or telepathic prompt of the ritualist? The text is frustratingly vague and in some editions quite confusing as in one version of the ritual there is call for moon-raised demi-moths to lift the spun silver-web coverings from the lamp-cages. As to what exactly 'demi-moths,' or even 'spun silver-web' might be, there is no clue or details provided within any of the texts.

In the interplay of the triple-light of the Koponu and the Triple-Shadow spell, the ritualist is to pronounce the three names that go along with the three symbols. This will (allegedly) allow them to open the way across to each of the three paraversal planes known respectively as the Purple Forest, the Ochre Cliff, and the Green Ice. The name transcribed for the Purple Forest is 'Jalhadreah,' however the specific pronunciation is disputed and often left to the student to work out for themselves. The other two symbols are not named in any of the existing texts, necessitating a great deal of research and experimentation on the part of anyone seeking to unlock either of the other paraversal planes accessed by this spell.

It is worth noting that by simply visualizing the respective symbols, one can in fact gain clairvoyant, even clairaudient impressions of the three paraversal planes. Those casters particularly gifted or possessed of suitable mechanisms, apparatus or capabilities have been able to skry across into these regions, while others have successfully projected their consciousness to more fully investigate what actually lies waiting of the other side, though this does necessitate dispensing with the protection afforded by the Hex-spindle Ward.

Performing this ritual allows one to attune to the Purple Forest with minimal extra effort, however without the proper names of the other two paraversal planes it is very difficult to attune one's self to either of them without extraordinary effort and risk of strain, stroke or worse.

What's In It For Me?
A ritualist having successfully performed the 'Triple Circle,' and having attuned themselves to the Purple Forest can begin to draw upon this plane for raw energies, displaced weather effects, transitional terrain effects, and summonable creatures...though all of these applications are dependent upon the caster gaining some sort of knowledge of what is available within that plane, usually by way of clairvoyant, oneiric, or telepathic surveys and explorations. There are also available, in some instances, a number of personal journals and transcribed accounts of other sorcerers' experiments within these regions, some of which might offer up a few clues, hints or even usable sigils for calling forth various entities or effects. Of course, the usual caveats do apply--not all of these works are authentic, and a few might well be perverse traps laid for the unwary by unbalanced personalities or spiteful maguses jealous of their power and knowledge.

It's All About Access...
By opening the way unto another plane, anteplane, adjacent world or parallel realm, the caster gains access to new sources of power and knowledge. Once the connection is made, the caster can further develop their personal connection, attune to this 'other place,' and gain access to items, spells, things, resources and information that they might never have noticed or been able to perceive previously.

There are books that can only be read on these other planes, either by way of dreaming or projection. There are entities that can be communicated with in order to barter secrets or spells, once one has made a connection with them that can only ever come from first opening the way unto their plane of existence.

A caster who has made this sort of connection can learn to summon things across from the other plane to their own, expanding upon their capabilities and options substantially.

In time, the caster may be able to make the transition to this other plane, thus opening up an even greater source of options for their exploration and acquisition of knowledge and power...

A Parting Note of Dubious Merit
Cryptic references in certain suppressed manuscripts and illicit scrolls that tend to get passed around among students and apprentices seem to give the impression that the Orange Circle that corresponds to the so-called 'Ochre Cliff' may in fact be linked to Jalamere...

Spell: Voorish Sign

Voorish Sign
Level: 1
Duration: Instant
Range: 10'/per hit point invested

The caster makes a gesture with their hand that causes all invisible things within the spell's area of effect to make a Save or become visible for 1d4 seconds. Expending hit points will extend the range or duration of the effect on a 1 to 1 basis, i.e. one hit point spent will grant either another ten feet of range or another 1d4 seconds of visibility.

Each hit point invested in this spell grants the caster a cumulative 5% chance to drive off any invisible/immaterial creature within the spell's area of effect. Most immaterial creatures gain a Save, but the caster can spend additional hit points to force a -1 penalty to their Save, at a cost of 1d4 hit points for each -1 penalty inflicted on the target. This is over and above the initial cost.

Every two hit points invested in this spell will cause 1d4 damage to a Horla.

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Only beings with humanoid hands can perform this spell.

Spell: Forestall Collapse

Forestall Collapse
Level: 2
Duration: 1d4 Turns/level
Range: Touch

Caster magically reinforces walls and ceilings so that they hold fast for the duration of the spell, allowing them to pass through the area before it fully collapses.

Spell: Black Touch

Black Touch
Level: 3
Duration: 1d4 rounds
Range: Touch

Caster's fingers/hands take on the form of small black puddings, doing 3d6 damage and allowing them to climb surfaces as though they were a black pudding. Black Puddings will respond as though caster has made a neutral CHAR Reaction while the spell is in effect. Use of ESP (or possibly Empathy, or a variant of Speak With [whatever] such as Speak With Blobs) during the duration of this spell will enable direct communication with Black Puddings and the caster attempting this gets to roll a formal CHAR Reaction Roll with a +4 bonus. Any Black Pudding befriended in this manner will remain friendly to the caster until such time as the caster either attacks, harms or attempts to coerce the Black Pudding with some version of Charm or Control magic.

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It is rumored that repeated use of this spell runs a slight chance of permanently corrupting the caster's flesh, causing them to take on more and more of the appearance and form of a Black Pudding...but of course that is rubbish and nonsense, and totally unconfirmed by any reputable scholar or spell-caster...

Wermic Journal of the Transgressive Octavoid (Wermspittle)

Banned, damned and denied to even exist by the majority of planar adepts, the wermskin-bound journal has been in circuitous, underground circulation amongst select occult scholars, serious pataphysicians, clandestine metafictionaries and discrete parahistorians, for centuries across any of the eight planes that it migrates through on a seemingly endless cycle of temptation, corruption and destruction.

Originally hand-written in a distinctive psycho-reactive green-black ink derived from a distillation of brain-fluids taken from the still-living corpses of gargantuan werms native to an unnamed and so-far unrevealed 'ninth plane,' the Wermic Journal exerts a peculiar influence over any who attempt to read its contents. It is a well-documented and mostly accepted premise that the Journal reveals different things to different readers, rarely if ever repeating itself.

The last known sighting of this work was in Wermspittle.

Occult Formulae Allegedly Derived From This Tome

• The Double-Square Figure of Containment
• Crafting the Jewel of Souls
• Diagram: Octohedral Bulwark
• Committing Purple Prose
• Formula: Psycho-reactive Violet Ink of Jaloo
• Diagram: Eightfold Perambulation
• Spell: Planar Entanglement
• Red Letter
• Diagram: Triangle (Five)
• Ritual: Circle of Four Twins

Spell: Dispel Ectoplasm

Dispel Ectoplasm
Level: 4
Duration: 1 turn
Range: 30'

This spell disperses any mass of ectoplasm within its area of effect, inflicting 3d6 damage to all incorporeal undead or similarly ectoplasmic entites.