What's In The Attic? (Table 2)

His old servant ... had spoken of the strangely aromatic and hideously carven box he had found in the attic, and of the indecipherable parchments and queerly figured silver key which that box had contained: matters of which Carter had also written to others...

Through the Gates of the Silver Key
by H P. Lovecraft

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What's in the Attic? (Table II)

1. This attic has become overgrown by a patch of Stranglemasses that appear to have been seeded by chance, just down-wind of Glindeng's attic (Table3/Option6). One has to wonder how many other randomly-seeded patches of these foul plants have taken-root in the roofs, eaves and attics around here. Some crazy old lady, they call her 'Mildred', most likely an escapee from one of the broke-down sanitariums along Skinner Row, has been tending to this unplanned-for garden of Stranglemasses for years now. No one knows why the plants tolerate the crazy lady. Perhaps it has something to do with the illegal experiments that were done on her while under the care of Doktor Rommiro?
2. The people on the floor below have been complaining of an unnatural draft coming from this attic. Even in the Summer. Turns out there's a Weak Point lodged in the back wall. It opens onto an empty, barren, frozen wasteland. Beware the penguins.
3. Wet, sticky goo covers nearly every surface in here. The stuff is setting-up like so much dried snot in the corners. Everything stinks worse than rotten cabbages. There's a swarm of some kind of pink-banded slugs clustered beneath a messy mound of old rags and newspapers heaped against the back wall, just to the side of the broken window. The slugs will pop into small puffs of poison gas if exposed to heat or bright light. [Save or suffer debilitating nausea (50% penalty to Move, -2 To Hit, -4 to Morale) for 1d4 hours.]
4. Six dead penguins lay next to a zinc-plated tub. A blood and feather crusted Tsalalian obsidian knife rests on a rickety taboret next to the tub. Why is there a shattered mirror lying face-down on the floor?
5. An old Zugritti woman bundled-up in tattered old red and yellow blankets sits in her wheelchair at the window, keeping a look out for something she cannot, or will not describe. Once every 15 minutes roll a d6, on a roll of '6' there comes a scratching, scraping noise at the window which drives the old woman to screaming madly. She will be inconsolable, hysterical and extremely agitated for the next 1d4 hours during which time the neighbors, the Constables or other Local Authorities, and others will be attracted to all the ruckus.
6. Javeer Nerladoux, once a famed investigator among the Secret Police in Narliz, sits quietly in a corner of this old attic smoking a foul-smelling pipe and tinkering with his broken grammophone. Perhaps one of you might know a thing or two about fixing such devices? Javeer has dozens of dusty cylinders originally recorded at the Great Opera House of Narliz from before the war. His favorites feature his nephew Erik.
7. Five old crates have been set before the windows and filled with dirt and other soil-like substances scraped from the near-by eaves and other sources to form the seed-beds for strange yellow flowers that someone has been tending to for several months now. But what kind of flowers get fed blood, mud and what may well prove to be White Powder residue? and is that a tender shoot from some form of Red Weed just poking up out of the soil in that third make-shift planter?
8. There is a Loathsome Mass behind an old airship trunk packed with deeply stained and saturated military campaign maps once drawn-up by the map-makers of the Third Logistical Battalion of the Pruztian Army dating back to before the First Occupation. The Loathsome Mass has compromised the trunk's structural integrity--any attempt to move it will result in the trunk collapsing into bits and pieces, and further exposing--and ruining--the maps, journals, correspondence and other papers contained within it.
9. Seventy-Two little bat skulls have been hung upside-down from red thread pinned to the central rafter. Each one has been lovingly inscribed with an idiosyncratic summoner's personal Noetic Glyph drawn from Unter-Noetica, an illegal manual only ever written-out in Noorstrian, an obscure language that remains on the Banned Languages List to this day. The Board of Community Hygiene offers a reward for information on sites like this...but they would quarantine the place, and possibly detain anyone who has come into contact with the little skulls. Can you hear the tiny, raspy little voices just at the edges of your consciousness yet? Perhaps there is time to locate a Karcist, Medium or someone with a background in purging mischievous spirits and Littelgeists...
10. Someone has re-built an electric airship motor in the middle of this attic. all it is missing are the batteries...and some way to get it out of here, as it is far too large to pass through either the door or the windows.
11. Six barrels of Spectral Brine sitting in the dark, slowly rusting away. 
12. A lonely little Flidder has been trapped in this attic for months now. Who would do such a thing? Why? Will they be mad that you let it go?
13. A small blue-tinged lens lies in the middle of the floor. It glints coldly in the dark and inflicts 1 point of damage to anyone licking it up, every time it is picked-up. The Lens allows whomever is holding it to locate any of the Cold Roads they so desire to find...but somehow the Lens also shifts them into the Winter-time to do so.
14. An un-finished gargoyle statue scowls disapprovingly at anyone who enters. The dust is several inches thick in here, so the artist may not be coming back.
15. Four zinn-plated rolls from a printing-press have been stashed here by a Yellow Kid following a raid on their master's shop due to charges of engaging in Caprichographika. These rolls could be set-up to print out the weird images etched into their outer surfaces, but it might draw the attention of various Local Authorities. It might be easier to auction the things off, perhaps engaging the services of a dealer in curios and antiquities such as the kindly Mr. Cave or someone less scrupulous, but more inclined to handle such objectionable materials. There is a base 45% chance that disturbing the rolls will attract the attention of a Phantasmal Menace.
16. A young man lies dead in his ramshackle bed set below the central gable window. A trail of little red footprints reveals that this was the work of a score or more Little People who appear to have returned to their domains within and between the walls after dispatching their enemy. The young man was something of a Dreamer, even now in death his dreams permeate this space and if one is careful not to use too bright a light source, or to cast damaging or disrupting spells, there are 1d6 Oneiric Codices on the little nightstand next to his bed that could be perused if one so desires. These books are made-up of dream-stuff and will disappear instantly if there are any loud noises, bright lights, spells cast within the room, or if anyone attempts to move or disturb the dreamer's body in any way. Each book has a base 30% chance to contain 1d4 spells that an avid reader could attempt to memorize. Doing this means they must remain still, quiet and entirely focused on the task at hand, disregarding all else, or the attempt fails and the books dissolve into so much oneiroplasm. Each time a spell is successfully memorized, roll a d6, on any result other than a 1, the books all disappear. On a result of '1' the current book dissolves, but the others remain and can likewise be consulted if desired. Any spells gained in this manner can be immediately cast and lost, or it is possible to attempt to inscribe them into a grimoire, journal or spell-book...but unless the caster does so while asleep, the inscription will fail and the spell will be lost.
17. (1d6) Ravens are on the windowsill, taking turns tapping out competing rhythms or patterns in order to annoy a cat that no longer lives there.
18. Three glass plates prepared for use in Ectography and wrapped in black fabric lie next to a broken camera and related apparatus. A calling card for B. Jazmir, Master of Ectographry can be found on the floor near the table. It seems that Master Jazmir ran afoul of a cabal of Fantomists. It is just possible that the Fantomists have left someone to keep an eye on this attic studio in order to capture any of Jazmir's possible associates, suppliers or clients. The Fantomists might take an interest in the players if they poke around in this attic for very long...
19. A partially visible and quasi-fossilized Horla hangs suspended from the rafters by a stout chain affixed to an electric winch. Someone has been making detailed anatomical drawings of the creature.
20. A broken case containing three partially-chewed bars of Lear's Soap.
21. A black-iron spear mounted with a battle-lamp has been jammed into the floor-boards. The cable is missing, otherwise it is in working order. When powered, the spear can emit an Actinic Ray capable of causing an additional 3d4 damage to any creature susceptible to sunlight struck by the blade, or 1d6 damage if used as a Ray Attack (Ranged). Typical battery-packs yield 6 attacks at full-strength.
22. The ceiling is encrusted with a Scabrous Froth.
23. An old barber used to make this his home, before he got mixed-up in some nasty business with a pair of Wall Guards and a missing Electric Mitrailleuse. In the battered old chest at the foot of his un-made bed there is a large glass jar containing a dormant Corpuscular Sludge. A pair of Lesser Nosferatus have been watching this place, waiting for a chance to gain entry and recover the Sludge for their Mistress. Both wear Rings of Rat's Teeth and will cast Vile Residue to facilitate their escape if necessary.
24. Something Squick and Ichorous can be found here, as can be a mop with a broken handle and three rusty buckets.
25. A trowel for fighting Gobbling Grouts and Jellies has been left on the windowsill.
26. The spell Unnatural Acromegally has been carved into the floor-boards by a pair of Thumblings who are still caught-up in their argument about the best methods for adjusting this spell to have the most impact upon their hated enemy.
27. A Black Key dangles from a blue ribbon looped over the handle to a closet door. For a moment you might be able to hear the waves crashing across the rocks below the Gormenstille of New Chillon, but perhaps that is all just in your head
28. A magic circle has been botched. The outer perimeter is clotted with shiny little lumps of congealed Purple Amber, while the inner border still smolders with a foul-smelling green flame that is taking an extremely long time to burn itself out. An enterprising Forager might be able to scrape-away a few samples of the Purple Amber, but doing so runs the risk of coming into contact with the green flames...and they do not consume anything physical, but rather they consume spiritual things. A close examination of the rest of the attic will turn up a small ivory carving of a Peryton in the classical Franzikaner style. This little item is an un-charged Charm Against Perytons suited to use within the Purple Forest. Perhaps a Jaladari might help make the Charm work, or offer you something for it?
29. Ruttolfen, a Gleiben Rat-Killer stayed here in this garret in-between jobs exterminating vermin in the Near Deeps under a Sewer Militia contract. Several pairs of half-shredded banded-leather gauntlets and some other bits and pieces litter the floor and there might be Something Under his Bed. No one has seen or heard from the guy in over a month. Some of the other tenants are concerned enough to ask you to consider looking for their friend. they might be able to put together some kind of reward if pushed.
30. An un-exploded cannister of Black Smoke protrudes into this attic from the ceiling. Some one really did a shoddy job repairing the roof and did not bother checking the spaces below for whatever made the hole. Tampering with the cannister runs a cumulative 30% chance to set it off. Loud noises, jarring contact, excessive heat or electrical discharges within the room and most forms of spell-casting will all incur an additional 10-40% chance to detonate the cannister...so it might be better to leave well enough alone and maybe report this UXB to the Local Authorities. Of course, there are those who would pay handsomely for this cannister, and others who would be willing to purchase the details of its location...but that's a matter of conscience and/or commerce...

What's in the Attic? (Table I)  |  What's in the Shuttered Room?

In a Dark Place...[A Random Encounter Table for Bujilli]

Currently...
Bujilli has woken in a dark place. These are some of the things that might be prowling about in the darkness around him...

Here are a couple of random tables to help us find out what might be lurking out in the darkness. If multiple readers roll multiple results, we'll either average the die rolls out, or you readers can vote on a most preferred option in the comments below, or I'll just mash things together into some sort of composite situation--they don't all need to be all at once. We could probably manage two or three of some of these encounters, especially if they are things best avoided or whatever...

In the Dark (1d6) [minor things]

1. A small cloud of luminiferous aethyr escapes from a fading aperture that will seal-over in the next three minutes...unless something happens to force it to remain open.
2. Dozens of warped and twisted fruiting bodies flop about in slow motion as their juices form a sticky pool around the edges of a Pesthole that has been colonized by some form of yellowish fungal spores.
3. Roll 1d30 on Damned Things Table One.
4. There's something on the ground there. It looks round and made of metal of some sort, most likely a type of electrum, but with a silver-chased edge. Perhaps it is a type of coin? Yes. It is a Spaug Coin. Go ahead; pick it up if you dare... 
5. Roll 1d30 on Damned things Table Two.
6. Guess it was something more interesting after all, roll again on the next table.

What is That? (1d12) [more interesting things]

1. Thap. thap. Thap. A small, wriggling thing resembling a half-formed embryo with over-large eyes squirms its way through a lingering cloud of displaced aethyr. Just past the agitated creature a smallish Weak Point collapses into oblivion, frustrating the tiny Flidder immensely. Where will it go now? Can it detect another Weak Point nearby? It just noticed you...
2. Dismal, gray light streams through a small grove of petrified un-trees. You recognize a Gloomlight spell and spot the little glyph floating placidly over a small mirror-surfaced pool of some liquified yellow metal. There is a corpse lying at the edge of the pool. A morlock in green-stained chain-mail that has been rent asunder by some sort of explosive weapon from the looks of it...then you spot the Lurm who cast the Gloomlight spell. They appear to be wounded and not doing a very good job of hiding behind one of the petrified un-trees...
3. Black ice. There is a low-lying fog swirling about your ankles and the air grows distinctly colder as you go on. The black ice gets rougher, thicker, more difficult to traverse without slipping or falling. Larger and larger masses of broken stone, rubble and architectural ruins protrude from the black ice, forming an increasingly labyrinthine terrain. In the distance you can just barely catch a glimmer of purple light and hear what sounds like some sort of weird song coming through what appears to be a Weak-Point offering a way to enter a blasted and blackened arctic region where a Quindra contemplates the probabilities of your decision...
4. Jexilon the Jaladari floats over to you from behind a huge ruined pile of broken cyclopean masonry. With a squeal of avaricious glee they launch into a sales-pitch in a rapid succession of dialects until they find one you recognize enough to do business in--they want to sell you a Gloomswallow that they've recently captured. Jexilon discretely avoids mentioning that he has 6 Gronk mercenaries and a freelance eloi umbralist guarding the thing. Of course that turns out to be moot once the thing breaks free after casting Ectoplasmic Expulsion on  the umbralist, incapacitating them and throwing the Gronks into confusion as this unregistered beast does not recognize the efficacy of their swords as mandated by Gronk Central Command....
5. There is a rancid, musty scent in the air. Just ahead the ground or floor appears to glint slightly as if moist with some viscous, organic nastiness. At first you might think it the black oily residue of a Loathsome Mass, but the smell is different, more pungent and there is an impression of tarry, stickiness to the wet stuff that is not at all similar to the usual oiliness you'd expect. The dull, pinkish-mauve worm-like pseudopods give it away--there is a Black Sack ahead and something--several smallish somethings--are hunkered down near what you suspect is the main mass of the Black Sack making scraping noises and muttering to one another just above the level of a cautious whisper. There are some little humanoids rubbing javelins or darts in the toxic slop surrounding the Black Sack...roll again on Table Three below to see what manner of creature they might be.
6. A severely damaged Automaton with Flidder-flesh bonded to its frame lies neglected on a mostly flat toppled menhir of bluegreen stone. A closer look reveals it to be a Pruztian Fyter with three of its original zinn-plated limbs mostly intact, but one of its arms (the left one) having been incompletely repaired and mostly replaced with some sort of insect-limb combined with Flidder-flesh. You can hear someone arguing off in the distance. A demented Pruztian exile is exhorting his few remaining Thumbling retainers to go get him another Flidder immediately. He is running out of time. His left side is slowly turning to stone, a soft and crumbly sort of mineral with the consistency of cheese, and he is convinced that the deactivated Fyter he is trying to repair somehow can help him overcome this latest in a along succession of sorcerous insults and petty attacks by his various enemies who are all jealous of his so far unrecognized genius...
7. More of the petrified un-trees. upon closer inspection you see that they resemble some bizarre form of tentacled coral with a central columnar body and roots to match the writhing limbs above. It's the roots that give you pause. You can sense the hundreds of tiny snapping, gnashing teeth all clicking together in all those little mouths struggling to get at your flesh well before you can actually see them. It might be prudent to avoid getting much closer...
8. A cluster of hissing, flickering Umbral Things wearing masks made form dead people's faces caper and prance around a small gray trapezoid. suddenly the shadowy entities stop in their tracks, make some sort of arcane gesture then silently disband, each one leaving in a different direction. Their ritual failed. They abandon the trapezoidal object as worthless. The gray trapezoid is carved with twenty-eight characters that resemble Ixaxar glyphs, but are more curling and smooth, as though melted into the gray stone by some wriggling werm-thing. Incautious mishandling of this item summons a Yirgao.
9. A small, thirty-foot long fragment of the infamous Arch of Lindraxis protrudes form a Weak-Point. A Were-Shade of Uttonj is intently studying the thing, oblivious to the Gloomshadow that is furtively swirling into place behind them. Will you intervene and attempt to warn the Were-Shade, or will you let nature take its course?
10. At first it appears as though a sword was somehow dancing through the shadows as if by magic. then you glimpse some sort of Polyp wielding the weapon. It could be either a Monodril, or a Hexapodalite, but probably not a Type VI Abomination, since they tend to rely on spells rather that weapons...
11. Three Skeletal Mourners, each one of their bones lovingly wound in tarnished brass wire and draped with rotten red robes carry some sort of three-spoked wooden frame at shoulder height between them. Dangling from a set of three bronze chains is a grimoire bound in some sort of mauve-tinted hide that visibly struggles to break free of the wards imposed upon it. If you look more closely, the skeletons don't seem to mind just looking, then you will notice that there are tiny red flames flickering in the skulls of these skeletons; not in their brass-lined eye-sockets, but at the center of their hollowed-out skulls and somehow partially visible to the naked eye in a most unnatural manner...oh and a small band of four Thysanurians are carefully and quietly sneaking up on the skeleton book-bearers. One of these book devouring insects is carrying a Magical Weapon that you can select from This Table.
12. Rujjomi the Xing-Tian bone-molder and mask-maker squats in the darkness with their broad back up against a section of lichen-crusted masonry. Three dead Blemmyes lie only a scant few feet away with their mid-sections crushed into gory pulp by Rujjomi's powerful fists. These would-be assassins wear distinctive looking studded leather armor fashioned from Xing Tian hide; a deliberate insult and a sign of their master's great displeasure. These killers were sent after Rujjomi by her former patron... 

Little People? Really? (1d6)

1. Four Nirlock children are out on their very first hunt away from the adults. One of them is quite clever and has led them all to a spot where a Black Sack was festering away in the darkness so they could all apply the poison goo to their javelins.
2.  Zindlebarf leads the six remaining members of his tribe of kobolds now that their previous chieftain choked to death after trying to eat a chunk of Black Sack. If this stuff is so nasty, Zindlebarf has decided, it would be a good thing to scrape-up and use on their weapons.
3. A Creeping Baby Doll has gotten mired in the rotting gunk surrounding this patch of Black Sack fungi. The broken toy cries out to you in an eerie, unsettling voice...
4. (1d6+1) Drilg are tending to the (1d4) younglings who managed to step into this rotting fluid without realizing what they were doing. Worst family outing ever.
5. That's not a Black Sack after all, and those aren't little people--its all a ruse by a patch of Mindslime to lure unwary victims into reach.
6. Those aren't kobolds; they're (3d4) Pit Nibblers...but what are they doing?

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Mirrorcrawling: A Preliminary Table

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."
"I don't much care where –"
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go.”

Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

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20 Random Encounters in the Mirror-Murk

1. A herd of speckle-haunched Raths rumble past in an untidy rush towards what they think is something edible. Thankfully, this time, they seem to not have noticed you.
2. (1d4) Hollow Ones are furtively stalking towards something you cannot perceive. One of them excitedly gestures to you to remain right where you are.
3. A Yelg Froth is trapped within a circle of powdered black chalk. Touching the circle inflicts 1d4 damage. The circle cannot be disturbed except by spilling blood on it, then it will collapse into a caustic shadow and release the froth. Of course, doing this will attract the attention of the morlock sorcerer who trapped the thing here for a reason. If instead of messing with the thing, someone actually takes time to study the thing, a fluttering peacock-moth will inquire politely if it might be able to help them. This creature, Baljez by name, is the sorcerer's middle-acolyte and they were tasked with watching over their masters various traps--more of the chalk-circles--that are set-up in the area.
4. Dozens of Shatter-Cracks lance outwards from a central impact-site within 5d20' of your position. Cold black mist curls through the jagged, angular fractures. Remaining within 300' of this site requires a Save to avoid losing 1 point of WIS every 3 Turns.
5. Slow-moving Slug-Hulks shudder softly as they slide along mindlessly wreathed in a hazy fog that echoes with the faint sounds of things that no longer exist.
6. A small Vortex forms for 1d4 Turns. It collapses with a loud pop, leaving behind a gob of Oneiroplasm and possibly 1d4 larval Dreamsects.
7. Three Jub-Jub Birds squabble over some little trinket until one pulls out a glass-knife and chases the other two away.
8. A massive Slumbering Spider sways gently in the slight breeze stirred-up by your passing. It whispers in its sleep, spinning strange tales of its misspent youth in bizarre regions far from here. Save or lose 3d6 Turns listening to some peculiar anecdote.
9. (1d6+2) Contrarials have discovered a modestly-sized mass of flotsam and are setting up their camp. One of them is horribly mangled from a run-in with some unnameable beast.
10. There is a large Orbiculate coming straight at you. Maybe they want to be friends?
11. A solitary humanoid figure sits cross-legged atop a small atoll of debris. They are besmirched and befouled by a thick layer of guano. (1d4) immature penguins waddle out of the near-murk to pelt this being with gobs of feces every hour or so. Eventually the Tsalalian ascetic will have achieved the proper state of consciousness and the layers of filth covering them will slip away as a sort of soft-golem to go hunt down the penguins and choke each one to death in their nests.
12. A mauve-veined chrysalis has been caught in a small trickling current of mirrorplasm.
13. (2d6) Jewel-Eyed Snails are feeding on the corpse of a gargantuan woman-faced werm.
14. An Aethyric Eel wiggles past. You get the impression that it is playing coy and that it has spotted you.
15. (1d4) Cuneiform-incised jars containing Cacozombies in stasis. Feel free to open them.
16. One of the Shrouded guards a small aperture leading to a lingering aneurismic-niche formed by a necromancer who has long ago forgotten this place they once took refuge while terribly wounded after an encounter with one of their rivals centuries ago.
17. A dirty and partly burnt Hand Puppet crawls painfully through the murk, leaving behind it the dead body of their most recent victim. Things did not go well for either party, but it appears that the puppet came out slightly better than the dead somnambulist.
18. Four, no three, uh no--two Hobyahs are fleeing from a Gloomswallow. They are overjoyed to see you and are running as fast as they can towards you.
19. Jazlin is a replacement killer. They hunt down reflections that attempt to substitute themselves for their originals. She is interested in you only in so far as you might help her locate her current quarry who has taken-on the appearance of a Pruztian Noble.
20. (2d4) Bogles will offer to serve as guides to you. If you acept, they will lead you deeper into a bog and attempt to drwon you. If you reject them, they will follow you and try to make things difficult for you using spells like Muddle Path, Strange Big Stone, or something else you  might find in our Index of Spells. One of them wields a cheap tin toy trumpet that allows them to cast Procession of the Damned once per day.

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In Episode 126 Bujilli and Leeja went through a recently un-shuttered mirror. Now they are exploring a weird wilderness region on the other side and this table is just a sampling of some of the things they might encounter in this new journey...

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Six Shunned Houses in Wermspittle

What I heard in my youth about the shunned house was merely that people died there in alarmingly great numbers. That, I was told, was why the original owners had moved out some twenty years after building the place. It was plainly unhealthy, perhaps because of the dampness and fungous growths in the cellar, the general sickish smell, the drafts of the hallways, or the quality of the well and pump water. These things were bad enough, and these were all that gained belief among the persons whom I knew...

The Shunned House, by H. P. Lovecraft

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Six Shunned Houses

1. They say that anyone fool enough to spend a night in what remains of the old Franzikaner Grub Merchant's House on Black Street tends to get their head lopped off by whatever it is that haunts the place. The locals claim that there is a vengeful haint lurking in the place, possibly the ghost of the at old merchant's estranged niece who was a notoriously wicked girl with a violent temper. So far no one has survived to confirm any of the prevailing theories...
   
   No real mystery here. The attic of this house is crawling with a swarm of  Head Taker Beetles.
   
   (6d20) Head Taker Beetles [AL C, MV 120' (40'), AC 6[13], HD 3, #AT 2, DG 1d4/1d4, SV F2, ML 12 (mindless), Special: On a modified attack roll of 20 or better, a random appendage is severed, possibly even the victim's head. If the beetles successfully remove a victim's head, they will break off the attack and attempt to scuttle away with it. No one is completely sure what they do with such grisly trophies, and it might be prudent to simply just to ask.]

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2. Some folks say there is a vengeful phantom haunting the burned-out ruins of Mister Tiddles' Lollipop Shop. There are several Foragers and some Street Urchins who all swear to having seen the thing, and just barely escaping its clutches, when they tried to take refuge there during the rain or to escape pursuing Butcher Boys. Most of them seem to think that the horrid thing lairs in the fireplace...
   
   There is indeed an Ourang in this place, but it is not any sort of phantom, at least not yet. This creature was brought back to Wermspittle as a servant by the former proprietor of the candy shop on one of the last airships to visit the city decades ago...
   
   (1) Ourang [AL N, MV 120' (40'), AC 6[13], HD 4, #AT 3 (2 claws, 1 bite, can use weapons), DG 1d4+1, 1d4+1, 1d6 or by weapon, SV F4, ML 10, Special: Move Silently 70%, climb Walls 99%,Hide in Shadows 70%.] There is a cache of Trinkets and Trash in the fireplace. The beast actually lairs in a nest it has made in the rafters of the attic...

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3. Five stories above the street, the roof is broken open to the rain and elements like the shell of a rotten egg. No one goes beyond the second floor, only a few have ever attempted that, and never twice...
   
   The walls, floors and ceilings of this place are saturated with the coagulated filth of dozens of Loathsome Masses left behind by victims of the Vile Transformation were herded into the place by a group of masked vigilantes who rounded-up anyone they suspected of White Powder poisoning and left them here to die. Now there is a thriving colony of Scrum Pustules on every floor...
   
   (3d10) Scrum Pustules [AL N, MV (See Entry), AC 8[11], HD 1+, #AT 1, DG 1d4+, SV as zero-level human, ML 12 (Mindless), Special: Scrum Pustules gain 1 permanent hit point for every 30 points of damage they inflict. Every 6 hit points gained in this manner gives them another HD and allows them to increase in size, extending their area of effect by one more foot and improving their attack by an additional 1d4.]
   

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4. This foul-smelling tenement has definitely seen better days. Everyone avoids it. At night the walls radiate a flickering foxfire and dim shapes can be seen moving about doing incomprehensible things...
   
   Masses of reeking fungal-flesh cover the floors, clutter the stairwells and form something of an irregular obstacle-course or soft labyrinth all through the tenement. There are twelve apartments on each of the ten floors and a colony of Fruiting Bodies in every one of the rooms, with a Fungal Tyrant firmly rooted within the central courtyard.
   
   (3d4) Fruitng Bodies (per room) [AL N, MV 60' (20'), AC 8[11], HD 2 hit points each, #AT 1, DG 1 hit point (Poison), SV As zero-level human, ML 4, Special: When 'killed' each Fruiting Body erupts into a 10'x10' cloud of toxic spores that lingers for 3d20 minutes and causes all exposed to it to Save at -1 or suffer 1d4 damage every minute of exposure. All corpses left within the area affected by the spores becomes completely taken-over by the fungi and are non-recoverable.]
   
   (1) Fungal Tyrant [AL N, MV *static*, AC 6[13], HD 4, #AT 1d4, DG 1d4+1 per attack, SV MU 6, ML 11, Special: Use the following spells at-will; Clairvoyance, Detect Invisible, ESP, Locate Object, Ventriloquism (only within Area of Awareness), and may know an additional 1d4 random spells. See entry for more details.]

   ---

5. All three floors above ground are burned, gutted and even the centipedes don't bother hunting there any more. It's the space below the place that people are particularly concerned about. If you are careful in picking your way through the rubble, fallen timbers and collapsed walls, you can still reach the heavy old door that opens onto the narrow, steep stairs leading down to the cellar. If you wait long enough, sometimes you would swear that there were voices down there...
   
   Falling debris and collapsing walls make this a dangerous, treacherous place to go exploring, but if someone does get past the various hazards and obstacles, the old door can be opened (requires a combined STR of 23), and the rickety stairs might wobble a bit, but they will serve to get you down into the dark, dank chamber of crumbling brown bricks set with narrow arches about the height and width of a typical human. The chamber is clearly much smaller than what one might expect for such an old, large building. Each archway is bricked-up a little bit differently, very likely having been done by different hands at different times. The bricks are old and break easily, so it is possible to break through them, if so desired. Twenty-three cells hold the skeletal remains of long deceased prisoners. The Twenty-fourth cell contains a Spectre.
   
   (1) Spectre [AL C, MV 150' (50'), AC 2[17], HD 6, #AT 1 (touch), DG (Special: Draining Attack), SV F6, ML 11, Special: When the Spectre successfully strikes a victim, they must Save to avoid losing 1 HD, making the Save means they only take 1d8 damage. When a HD is lost in this manner, the character must re-roll their hit points using the reduced number of HD. The reduction in HD persists for 6d4 hours. Anyone reduced to zero HD is killed and will themselves become a Spectre in 1d4 days. Spectres are immune to Charm, Hold and Sleep spells. They take only 1 hit point of damage from normal or silver weapons. They will seek to avoid looking into mirrors and can be driven off by anyone who calls them by their name.]

   ---

6. The floor in this Abandoned Property sags terribly and appears to be about to collapse at any moment, however a pack of Feral Children have been running through here for more than six months without any mishaps, so perhaps the floor will hold up a little longer. There are the dried remains of Loathsome Masses in most of the ground floor rooms, with a particularly nasty Wet Spot in the kitchen that appears fairly recent. Everyone knows that there is some sort of Vicious Slime under the main stairwell, and there are some peculiar Stains in the upstairs hallway, though they rarely tell outsiders. The cellar is flooded; some idiot filled it with acid until the walls collapsed and now there's a fetid pool of noisome fluids down there that no one wants to deal with, especially since there's a Grobbly Bonk map charred into the main bedroom wall, and a stash of vintage Pruztian pronography rumored to be hidden behind one of the walls on the third floor, despite no Forager admitting to having ever found the stuff...
   
   There is an Oval Portrait in one of the upstairs rooms, as well as a well-preserved flock of undead gray penguins locked away in the attic...
   (6d6) Undead Penguins [AL C, MV 60' (20'), AC 6[11], HD 2, #AT 1, DG 1d4, SV F1, ML 6, Special: Turn as 1 HD Zombies. They take double damage rom fire, however once set ablaze, they will scamper about the place randomly, setting everything on fire. In all other respects they are zombified birds, and completely inedible.

---

Don't Look Under the Bed...A Random Table for Wermspittle

We are never so vulnerable as when we fall asleep. What dreams may come, nightmares that prowl and stalk through the frenzied brains of the fearful, un-pretty things that go bump in the night; many are the terrors and wicked delights to be warded or warned-off if one has the money or the means. But not all such hazards seep in through the hastily-secured walls or wriggle past a lapsed shutter-ward. Some things prefer to lurk quietly in places most tend to overlook...

---

What Could Be Under the Bed?

1. A well-gorged Brain-Snail, sluggishly digesting its most recent meal.
   
   [(1) Brain Snail, AL N, MV 30', AC 7, HD 3+1, #AT 1, DG 1d4 or Poison (Save or paralyzed for 2d4 turns), SV F2, ML 8. Special: Suffers a -2 on Initiative due to being bloated with last meal.]
2. Dull brown toadstools have sprouted from what appears to be a recent blood-stain. They exude a pleasant-smelling musk that will promote very sound sleep in anyone spending more than an hour exposed to them.
   
   [Save or experience effect equal to a Sleep spell. Incur a cumulative -1 penalty for each consecutive hour exposed. If disturbed the toadstools will wilt into a nasty, worthless black sludge that reeks of rancid meat.]
3. Three slightly-moldy dried-out Ourang fingers wrapped loosely in blue thread. It's probably not a back-scratcher. For some reason Ourangs suffer a -4 penalty on all Reaction Rolls in regards to whomever holds this item.
4. A small Weak Point has lodged down there. (2d4) Giant Ants attempt to push their way through every couple of hours. That'd be the scratching noises you've been hearing.
   
   [(2d4) Venomous Giant Green Ants, AL N, MV 180' (60'), AC 3, HD 4, #AT 1, DG 2d6+poison (Save or paralyzed for 1d4 turns), SV F2, ML 7.]
5. That's quite a pile of broken shells from some sort of Exotic Bivalves. They're all picked clean. Wonder what has been sneaking in here in order to eat the things?
6. The gnawed and splintered bones of at least six different victims of some clandestine carnivore, perhaps the former tenant? They're not all animal bones, either.
7. Lots of dust. Save or sneeze fitfully for 1d4 turns.
8. The mummified remains of a dead Harpy Tormenter. She made her nest under your bed a long, long time ago. Something must have killed her in her sleep.
9. Something glints ever so slightly back in the far corner. It's some sort of amulet or medallion stamped from a curious gray-purple alloy, heavy as lead but very hard. There is some sort of winged hound depicted on one side, a skull-faced king (or is it an ugly queen?) in a crown of bones on the other side. There's a base 40% chance anyone seeing this thing will recognize it as a cult-object associated with ghouls. Even the Jaladari trinket-peddlers won't touch the thing.
10. A reanimated skeleton, missing the skull, wrapped in black chains.
    
    [Headless Skeleton (1), AL C, MV 60', AC 7, HD 1, #AT 1, DG 1d6, SV F1, ML12. Special: Lacking a skull, this skeleton must make all attacks at random and all attackers gain a +2 bonus to hit it. The Keepers of one of the Sanctuaries, Shrines or Chapels might be interested in seeing this...]
11. Someone's well-worn and slightly blood-stained pocket journal. Each page is crammed with the same word repeated endlessly: Ligeia.
12. There is a Sallow Stain left-over from someone's Vile Transformation into a Loathsome Mass...most people will tell you to forget about it, try not to let it get to you. This sort of thing happens all the time. Especially in Winter.
13. Sixteen bottles, all but one empty. That last one holds a rolled-up manuscript written in Vrilyinese detailing a cipher used by the underground resistance movement during the Second Franzik Occupation. Possession of such a thing is currently proscribed and punishable by death. But it is probably worth a good deal to the right collector.
14. Three dud Black Smoke cylinders. The kind meant to be launched from a crossbow. Careful examination will reveal that they are not just duds--they were deliberately emptied. Handling the things with bare hands requires a Save, fail and suffer 2d6 damage, succeed for half. Those who've spent time around the Baffles, served in the Trenches or fought against the Tripodal Hussars at Avernalle, know to douse the things with water or steam before doing anything else. Hard won knowledge. Best heeded.
15. A sealed jar of green-tinted glass. Inside is a small Gray Ooze. It has been left here for years, ever since the Jelly-Hunter who captured it left to buy some more jars, never to be seen again.
    
    [Gray Ooze (1), AL N, MV 10' (3'), AC 8, HD 1,#AT 1, DG 1d6, SV F1, ML 6. Special: This particular oozelet has suffered from its isolation and on a positive Reaction Roll it will attempt to bond with whomever releases it, effectively becoming a sort of pet.]
16. A slightly-damaged taxidermied sea snake.
17. Bulging and writhing, it's a very large spider's egg-sac with only minutes to go before it hatches forth a lot of spiders.
18. (3d6) dead striped-back bats. Someone closed-off the hole in the wall after repairing the chimney, trapping them in here.
19. The armless, headless body of an Almas Glandculler has been stuffed under this bed. It's starting to smell.
20. The spleen of a vampire, pinned with excruciating care into the correct position inside some sort of anatomical mannequin, very much like a smaller version of those used in teaching anatomy at the Medical School. The spleen is wet, and seems to pulse every now and then. The whole thing is part of an elaborate ward-mechanism meant to repel Sanguinovores. Perhaps it might even work. Care to try it out?
21. The half-eaten carcass of a Blue Eel was wrapped in yellowing newspaper and stuffed down there quite a while ago. Unwrapping it would allow you to determine just how long, by finding the date on the newspaper. But...did the thing move just then?
22. Yellow Mold (LL. p. 103). Leave it alone, it'll probably leave you alone. Probably.
23. That strange shaped mass of burlap and canvas? It's a whaling gun. A bit rusty and in dire need of polishing, but it ought to still work. There are three heavy harpoons wrapped-up alongside it. The gun itself weighs over two hundred pounds, comes mounted on a pivoting truss and still has a working reel assembly for handling the specially-treated rope that usually gets used with these things...too bad there's no rope in the pile.
24. A crudely-scratched treasure map, courtesy of a Grobbly-Bonk demon, awaits the curious. Is it a legitimate map, or is it more of a trap? Only one good way to find out...
25. The severed head of a gargoyle, mounted on a malachite and black oak pedestal. Those who feed the thing blood can ask it three questions in the light of a full moon.
26. One of the boards beneath the bed is quite atrociously warped and distorted, not from moisture or any sort of spell, but somehow there is a person's leg protruding from it. The leg itself is more like wood than any sort of flesh, but it is not carved. It appears to have grown from the wood.
27. Eight pieces of Dead-Lead Shot in a small paper box.
28. Corpse. There's a 30% chance that it is an Indwelling Predatory Projection. Otherwise it isn't much of a conversationalist. You might want to get rid of it. Just saying.
29. A cracked and slightly blackened lens still holds a tenuous link to a Lens Flayer. The lens was stolen from a local artist by a trained monkey working for a small-time burglar who has since met a messy end falling into a cellar illegally converted into a cess-pit by an unscrupulous land lord. The monkey ran off and is lurking in the rafters of some Abandoned Property, unless something else ate it already.
30. A Gloomswallow is squeezing through the floorboards by way of its innate Passwall ability. It is attempting to flee a small group of Contrarials or Simulacra that are intending to harvest the thing's hide to make leather armor. Unfortunately it has slipped their bonds and is desperately making its escape, right under your bed.

---

We offer several other Random Tables that could be appended to this one. For example there is a table for Swarms, another for Strange Ovum, and of course one of our favorites; Those Aren't Rats in the Walls, as well as the You've Got Demons in the Closet (or something) Table that will be coming along shortly.

You may also find the Low End Loot, Good Things/Small Packages, or Found Objects tables of use as well.

Things Found on a Morlock Tool-Belt (Random Table)

A
 sudden thought came into my head as I stooped towards the portal. For once, at least, I grasped the mental operations of the Morlocks. Suppressing a strong inclination to laugh, I stepped through the bronze frame and up to the Time Machine. I was surprised to find it had been carefully oiled and cleaned. I have suspected since that the Morlocks had even partially taken it to pieces while trying in their dim way to grasp its purpose....

The Time Machine, by H.G. Wells

---

A Morlock Tool-Belt usually comes in one of three varieties, though sometimes they are empty. The tools and things found on an Apprentice's belt will be significantly lower quality than those on a Journeyman's, and a Master's belt will typically yield the best-quality tools.

1. Empty. It is a nice belt, though...
2. Apprentice (Roll 1d4 times. Each item has a 30% chance of still being useful.)
3. Journey-man (Roll 2d4 times, or roll 1d4 times and double the quantities of each item. These items have a 60% chance to be useful or intact.)
4. Master (Roll 1d6 times. Each of these items all have a 80% chance to be in perfect working order.)

Things Found on a Morlock's Tool-Belt...

1. Yellow-metal pry-bar. Makes a decent mace in a pinch.
2. Ear-Plugs. Protect against loud noises, vocal effects (+2 on Saves).
3. Rusty bone-saw, with three replacement blades.
4. Three varieties of pliers. One in particular matted with hair and blood.
5. Scalping-shears. Recently cleaned.
6. Titanium-alloy ice-pick. Equal to a +1 to hit, normal damage stabby-knife.
7. Self-adjusting spanner.
8. Pack of adjustable grommets.
9. Forty-seven human teeth.
10. 2d4 tubes of binary epoxy. Half blue, half red. When mixed, they form a purple glob that quickly hardens into a hard, waterproof seal.
11. Bronze-alloy hammer (non-sparking).
12. (6d6) Black foil ties. Once twisted they won't come free, unless you know to tap the tip three times.
13. One-foot wide roll of thin green metal film. Unrolls out to 100', goes rigid when tapped on edge. Re-rolls to whichever end gets triple-tapped first. Can hold up to 4,000 pounds without buckling.
14. Pack of 3d6 ultra-absorbent rags.
15. Air-tight can of hand-cleanser.
16. Tongs. Handle locks if you know how to twist the grips. Especially if you don't.
17. Inert dull red cylinder. Completely harmless unless broken open or exposed to open flames, then there is a  40% chance they'll explode, inflicting 3d6 damage on everyone in a 20' radius.
18. Water-purification filter-tube. Use like a straw.
19. Utility knife. 3d6 replacement blades in handle. Does 1d4+2 damage.
20. Telescoping yellow-metal blow-gun, with a packet of 3d6 poisoned darts.
21. Red Lamp. Emits warm red light that does not interfere with infra/dark vision. Has a 30' radius, unless you squeeze it twice, then it sines in one direction to a distance of 300'.
22. Nose-plugs.
23. Cardboard box of borax.
24. Waxed-paper pouch of dried jerky.
25. (3d4) delicately-carved small-animal vertebrae. Make nice dice.
26. Squeegee.
27. Emergency spray-bulb. Squirts water over a 10' radius in case of exposure to Black Smoke, etc.
28. One-handed pick-axe.
29. Small pack of very fine tools. Could be adapted to serve as Thieve's picks.
30. 5d100 washers in a variety of sizes.
31. Blunt mercury-filled hollow hammer and 1d4 cold chisels. (Hammer does +1 damage, but has a -1 penalty unless wielder is used to the shifting weight.)
32. Pouch of 5d20 rivets.
33. Filet knife. (+1 on damage.)
34. Stylus that separates or seals most metals depending on direction it is drawn. Completely harmless to living tissues.
35. (4d6) random crystals.
36. Black disk with a luminous needle suspended in center. The needle glows faintly in a different color to indicate direction of nearest Ley-lines, magnetic fields, poison gas pockets, Weak-Points, and other phenomena. Used to hang on a lanyard, but that's gone now.
37. Climbing axe. The haft unfolds into a tripod with a pulley system attached at the center.
38. Palm-sized black mirror. Reflection is emitted in the infrared.
39. Sack of random fish-bones.
40. Sewing Kit.
41. Malfunctioning Mucoid blood-transfusion mechanism.
42. Pack of 3d4 blades for a hack-saw.
43. Small tin of snuff.
44. Horn-working kit. Comes with folded brochure that displays steps in shaping a lanthorn from animal horns. Last one-third of back page is missing, but at least you can still see the diagrams through the bloodstains.
45. Empty metal cylinder.
46. Duct tape. Of course.
47. Three mis-matched wrenches, each one from an entirely different set.
48. Galvanic torch. Has very limited range, but could inflict 3d4 damage if used in a fight.
49. Blue rod wrapped in grayish foil. Emits Darkness in a 30' radius if uncovered.
50. Climbing Winch, self-rewinding, excretes up to 500' of translucent hair-fine silk-line with a tensile strength able to hold 6,000 pounds dead weight.
51. Rebreather mask. Allows wearer to breathe underwater for up to two continuous hours at a time. Requires ten minutes to recharge/clear after every 30 minutes of use.
52. Screwdriver; the tip automatically adjusts to fit.
53. Cold Cutter; narrow blade of white metal that maintains a very low temperature while cutting through dense materials.
54. Very nice bone-carving and skrimshaw kit.
55. (3d4) Slug-Repellent Salt-spikes. Inflict 3d4 to slugs, snails, etc.
56. Heavily-creased cheat-sheet showing detailed sketches of various highly poisonous fungi.
57. Gloves made from what appears to be cat-hides, with the fur turned inside.
58. Slick black poncho-with-hood. Stinks like filthy penguin-hide.
59. Leather-working kit. With three additional tools you don't immediately recognize.
60. Twist the handle it's a hammer, twist again and it's a hatchet. Some versions have more options.
61. (1d4) Eloi Memory-Rings. Wiped, ready to be reformatted and reloaded. 
62. Socket-set in it's own, water-proof case.
63. White card covered with flowing script and small image, possibly of the former owner of the belt.
64. Black cylinder, precisely 3" tall, 2" diameter. Extends out to a highly rigid ten-foot pole when properly triggered.
65. Rat skull fetish adorned with cracked bearings and burnt wire.
66. Goggles. Lens-housings twist, clockwise enlarges things, counter-clockwise shrinks them down. Not sure what the squiggly green hieroglyphs are all about.
67. Scraping tools. No good as weapons; too flexible.
68. Machete. Twist the dial on the handle and it becomes a shovel, rake or grappling hook.
69. Plumb bob with 600' of thin cord that glows faintly in the dark.
70. Spool of metal wire.
71. Small can of reddish lubricating oil. Leaks a little.
72. Empty leather sheath.
73. Small black wallet, unfastens into a complete clockwork tool-kit.
74. Flensing knife. Could make a good potato-peeler.
75. Medium-sized hand-drill with 3d6 bits.
76. Hacksaw. No blades.
77. Fine-mesh gloves, resist extreme heat or cold, acid and alkali.
78. Grooming kit. Never used.
79. (2d4) Replacement lenses for something that uses 3" diameter convex lenses made from some clear blue material that isn't glass.
80. Shop Steward Pouch. Contains 3d10 complaints, grievances and time-off requests, all written out in sloppy swirly black curlique-script. Might contain a hidden pocket for bribes.
81. Folding spade.
82. 23 assorted gaskets and a hand-drill with no bits.
83. Random repair manual. Saturated in oil or some other, indeterminate nastiness, and thus unreadable.
84. (2d4) Brass tokens from some carnival.
85. Trowel. When activated, it molds concrete like thick butter for 1d4 turns before going inert.
86. Assorted files and rasps.
87. Metal polish and rags. (Poison: Save or suffer intense vomiting for 1d4 minutes.)
88. Chitin-working tool-set, including an expensive-looking burnisher.
89. Three disparate clamps, one without the bottom pad.
90. Pruner and trimmers used for tending fungi-gardens.
91. (2d6) Cracked ceramic magnets. Half of them burned or scorched. None of them very magnetic anymore.
92. Some kind of gauge mounted on a stubby stick. Maybe it isn't working any more.
93. (2d4) Random machine-parts. Most are still greasy, having been recently removed from some apparatus.
94. White cylinder. When activated, it provides clean breathable air for up to 4 hours, slowly turning black as it releases the gasses bound within it. Will not work underwater.
95. Wire-cutters.
96. Folding steel yard-stick. Last two sections rusted shut.
97. Level. Middle section cracked and oozing green fluid.
98. An assortment of small springs of various lengths and strengths packed into a paper bag and stuffed into one of the pockets of the belt's main pouch. Underneath is a dull pencil.
99. (6d4) Sheets of varying grades of sandpaper, (1d4) wads of steel wool, and a hand-carved block of dried fungus slotted and pinned to serve as a make-shift sanding-block.
100. Three drill-chucks, a dozen drill-bits, two spare handles, but no drill.

Borrowed Trouble

Sometimes, even while peacefully minding your own business you happen to run afoul of situations that are not of your making or doing. Stuff that isn't really any of your business. Unless you choose to make it yours...

---

Borrowed Trouble

1. Six Feral Children glare at you from in front of what used to be a boarded-up window to an Abandoned Property. It's clear that they've only just removed the last of the boards. They've been careful, very quiet about the whole thing. Now you've come blundering by, making noise. They obviously don't appreciate your unwelcome contribution to their endeavor. You can tell by the loaded slings dangling from their hands. It would have made for a tense moment, except a very pale, flabby and quite large Fruiting Body begins to wriggle its way out of the window.
2. SNAP! A young girl clad mostly in dirty rags has been caught in a wire-snare and is being dragged up to the rooftop of a near-by building. She calls out your name.
3. Three hags wearing Rashavallan shawls sit on old crates and munitions boxes around a small sputtering fire they've made at the mouth of an alley-way. Then you notice that one of the 'logs' in their fire is in fact an anti-personnel cylinder. A cylinder filled with Black Smoke.
4. Two well-dressed Urlish Troubadours face off with dueling banjos in the middle of the street. Everyone clears out of their way. Then a small contingent of (2d4) light cavalry out of Wurtem-Zollern crashes through the street. One of the angry musicians is killed outright. The other one barely escapes, but is injured. The crowd that had been gathered on either side to observe the duel surges past after the horsemen. There's a lot of meat on a horse and those soldiers are a long way from home.
5. Four Gronk mercenaries are trying to sell their Gronk Swords to passersby. 
6. A large and argumentative crowd has formed around a cart carrying a corpse. Someone has been hung. Some old crone is demanding her due even as a pair of apprentice Midwives are discretely collecting the corpse-seed before anyone might stop them. They work fast and are making their way past you just as the crone and her supporters realize what has happened.
7. Two badly mauled survivors drag the still bloody hide of a Bruthem down the street. They had a tough go of it, down in that cellar, but they finally killed the thing. Of course there had been six of them when they set out. 
8. Voices. Two parties engaged in a heated argument. "I tire of this charade," you hear clearly from one party. Then things get noisy. A peddler tromps around the corner pushing a small cart built-up from various crates and bins all nailed together in a ramshackle mess that you're impressed can even roll along on its two mis-matched wheels. They're selling various syrups, ichors and minor jellies. Including one large jar holding what must be a Mind Slime that is staring directly at you.
9. A crippled Tsalalian refugee is showing off three small splinters from a Quindra to a mid-class scholar-in-training, some professor's apprentice or the like from the Academy. She is looking for samples of uncontaminated ectoplasm, however the Quindra fragments are quite interesting. But it's not really her field of study. Her two bodyguards are nervous about stopping here. One of them is Eloi. You think you might recognize her. There certainly are an awful lot of Tsalalians crowding this section of the street...
10. A Lurm squatter offers to teach you one of the hundreds of variations on Gloomlight, for a small consideration, of course. If you take them up on their offer and can settle on agreeable terms, about half-way through the process you realize that the old Lurm might be showing signs of Yellow Pox.
11. Someone, probably a slumming spell-caster, has been hit with a Zymurgic Disgestion spell cast by what appears to be their very angry spouse.
12. A disheveled former noble from Karlogne is concluding a shady business deal by stabbing his erstwhile partner in the back. Directly in front of you. He's cast Envenomate on the dagger. He only notices you once he strikes the fateful blow.
13. Five Orphans are chasing after a wounded Grikflit they've been tormenting for hours, forcing it to give them rides and perform tricks. The pitiful thing bumps into you as it attempts to make its escape.
14. Everyone is running towards you. They're fleeing a patch of Withering Mist.
15. A microcephalic child is attempting to make a three-legged Vilg on a leash  perform tricks to make money to pay a surgeon to make their head right. That's what the Vilg has taught them to say.
16. A drunken mercenary and a half-eloi working girl have just caught a Flutterworm that has to be over 20 inches long, possibly a new record. They cooperated well enough to catch the thing, but now neither one intends to share the notoriety or credit. He's carrying three pistols and an artillery officer's short sword. She has six friends that have followed them from the rathskeller.
17. The last of three gargoyle-hunters drops to the cobbles. Terribly bloody. They may yet be alive. But so is the gargoyle.
18. Some Morlock with an eye-patch pries the pieces of a broken Synchronocitor from out of the hands of the screaming corpse wreathed in blue flames. The corpse finally goes silent as it collapses to the cobbles in six charcoal-like pieces and the Morlock runs off. The blue flames continue to burn the pieces of the dead stranger's sorcerously carbonized flesh, but do not harm anything else. There's no heat, but it is a light source. It won't take long before someone starts selling chunks of the corpse coal...
19. A cloth-maker and his four apprentices are trying to replace a wheel on their wagon now that their electric tractor is running again. None of them has noticed that the barrel holding a Drab Jelly has fallen off the back and is leaking.
20. Two harpies flutter, kick and tear at each other over a left-over lump of Krampus Koal. In the course of their struggle the lump of cursed stuff lands at your feet. The harpies eventually notice that their prize has slipped from their grasp. Both turn their unpleasant attentions towards you...

In the Burned-Over Districts (Wermspittle)

Here I came once more upon the black powder in the streets and upon dead bodies. I saw altogether about a dozen in the length of the Fulham Road. They had been dead many days, so that I hurried quickly past them. The black powder covered them over, and softened their outlines. One or two had been disturbed by dogs...

The War of the Worlds, Book Two, Chapter Eight

---

One Hundred Things Littering the Streets of the Burned Over Districts in Wermspittle

1. Crushed and scattered bones of several cats and rabbits.
2. Farther on was a tattered woman in a heap on a doorstep; the hand that hung over her knee was gashed and bled down her rusty brown dress, and a smashed magnum of champagne formed a pool across the pavement. She seemed asleep, but she was dead.
3. Battered tin trunk packed with clothes, all slightly moldy and saturated by mud.
4. Nearly half a cord of dry fire-wood piled under a tarpaulin beside the collapsed wrought-iron steps to a burned-out building.
5. A mound of (3d10) charred corpses. No sign of whomever stacked them.
6. Red Weeds have taken-over a section of the street that is now densely overgrown to a depth of (3d4) feet. There are puddles of water underneath the red fronds, in some places the water is over six feet deep and there is a small chance to slip and possibly drown.
7. Green-grocer's cart with a smashed wheel. Stripped of anything useful. A swarm of Knife-Flies or Puffer-Maggots may have taken-up residence in the thing. You can find out if you disturb them.
8. Straw hat trampled into the now hardened mud.
9. A battered ceremonial cutlass, heavily notched from much use.
10. Dirty hatchet next to a caved-in hole.
11. Garden wheel-barrow filled with wet dirt.
12. Red Fronds form a sort of canopy over the street. They are also infested with hundreds of tiny bats that feed upon the blood-red berries produced by this variety of Red Weed. The bats also like the taste of human blood, which is amazingly similar to the sap they normally feed upon.
13. Pack of well-worn cards.
14. A pair of reading glasses, missing the lenses.
15. (2d4) gold chains and a watch scattered on the ground, having fallen from a looter's sack.
16. Another skeleton, with the arms dislocated and removed several yards from the body.
17. Black Smoke cylinder, half-buried in a mound of rubble and debris. [Appears to be a dud.]
18. Skull of a sheep, picked clean.
19. Handsome selenite paperweight. The inscription has been scratched into illegibility.
20. Man covered in black dust, thoroughly insensible and stupid due to a binge of Dim Ichor.
21. Overturned coach. All the wheels are missing.
22. A spoon.
23. Enormous quantities of a ruddy-brown fluid have been spattered all about the place. It has mostly dried. It smells faintly metallic and causes dysentery if handled or comes into contact with bare flesh.
24. You notice an ominously noxious smell emanating from a near-by grate.
25. Broken and battered ice-box torn loose from a bar. Only a few maggots inside.
26. A dog with a piece of putrescent red meat in its jaws coming headlong towards you, followed by a pack of starving mongrels in howling pursuit.
27. A shapeless mass of gnawed gristle of indeterminate nature.
28. Red Creepers have pulled-down two buildings, completely burying an alley-way.
29. Two smashed bicycles. A good deal of blood smeared on the seat of one of them.
30. A multitude of dogs are fighting over the grisly contents of a partially exposed plague pit.
31. A great circular pit extending downwards more than 600 feet. The walls are crumbling gravel and give off wisps of a faint greenish vapor when disturbed. The bottom of the pit is submerged under 30 feet of stagnant water coated with a heavy layer of black scum.
32. Six feet of a rudely severed metal tentacle.
33. A lingering cloud of Black Smoke (Type I). [Save or suffer 3d6 per round of exposure. Water nullifies the smoke, reducing it to a gritty residue. Dense, inky; tends to swirl oddly, almost fluidly, and is substantially heavier than air.]
34. Two filthy squatters caught-up in a dim contest of whispers tumble out from behind a pile of rubble as they wrestle over the last of their food. In the midst of their sad struggle, a dog runs away with their tin of biscuits.
35. A dense mound of inert blue powder slowly sifting into the cracks and crevices all around it.
36. The desiccated, exsanguinated corpse of a stout, ruddy, well-dressed middle-aged man of some consequence; he's been dead for about three days. Triangular wound in abdomen crusted over with dried blood and mucous.
37. Dirty and bedraggled, a Frothy Repenter shambles along babbling snatches of garbled scripture and old advertising slogans. A yellowish foam dribbles from their lips. Anyone they bite must Save at -2 or go mad themselves. They are inconsolable, driven by instinct and fear, looking for anything to eat or drink, and will attack upon sighting anything they think might be edible.
38. A bloodied meat chopper left lying on the steps to a cellar scullery.
39. Three rickety doors have been stacked one atop the other.
40. (4d10) pounds of loose coal scattered from a large dented bucket left lying in the street.
41. Broken glass covers the ground in a roughly thirty-foot radius. The whole area reeks of wine, urine and burnt meat. It might be possible to locate (1d4) intact bottles of wine or beer, all of it of low quality.
42. The cold remains of a week-old bonfire built-up from heaps of furniture dragged from the nearest houses.
43. A gas mask missing the lenses.
44. (1d4) hungry dogs watch you warily. They seem afraid of you.
45. A yellow metal bench ripped loose from its concrete pad and propped-up against the door of a half-collapsed building.
46. (1d6) empty biscuit tins rolling around on the ground.
47. A glass of rain-water coated with black scum.
48. Cast-iron pump-handle. It was recently used as a make-shift club. Bits of skin, hair and blood still attached at the end.
49. A wretchedly scrawny dog that will not stop barking no matter what you might try.
50. (4d6) Blackened Birds flutter out from a near-by pit. Each of them explodes into a cloud of Black Smoke (Type II) upon taking more than 3 points of damage. [Save at -2 penalty or suffer 4d4 damage for next 2d6 rounds as blood transforms into a toxic black ooze. Nullified by water, but becomes extremely flammable if exposed to alcohol and will burst into flames inflicting 3d6 damage in a twenty foot radius.]
51. Small mound of grayish-blue powder. Incredibly slippery. Only slightly toxic. [Save +2 or suffer 1d4 damage, affected area permanently stained light bluish.]
52. (3d4) inert skeletons coated in black grit.
53. A slipper.
54. A gaunt gray cat slinks along a wall. It ignores you.
55. Loose rubble. [60% chance of it collapsing. Save or DEX Check, fail and it inflicts 2d6 damage. Player can opt to take no damage but be buried to a depth of (3d4) feet underneath the debris.]
56. (1d4) Red Trees growing out of a section of ruined wall. The gnarled roots have infiltrated every nook and cranny of the old stonework. Viscous red sap drips like blood from the trees, making the surrounding area slippery (Dex check). The sap dries into a scab-like mess that causes 1d4 damage if left on exposed skin.
57. (2d4) candles in a water-logged cardboard box.
58. Black thorn-bushes have sprouted-up through the cobbles.
59. A rather lordly carriage, burned into a shambles.
60. Two human skeletons--not bodies, but skeletons--picked clean.
61. Burnt trees. Burnt grass. The cobbles and a section of near-by wall is intensely scorched. If examined closely, one can make out several shadow-like shapes indelibly burned into the stones.
62. A layer of gray clinkers mixed-in with a fine, sooty gray ash covers the street. There is a thin crust formed from exposure to the rain. Disturbing the crust will stir up a cloying, choking cloud of dust that has the stench of burned meat. [Reduce visibility to 10%, Save or be incapacitated by choking and coughing for 1d4 rounds.]
63. (1d4) Feral Children amuse themselves throwing stones at you from a roof-top. They quickly disperse and go into hiding if confronted or convincingly threatened with violence. They are not scared. Only waiting for the right opportunity.
64. A fragment of yellowish-white metal that looks like part of some cylindrical-shaped structure.
65. The cart of a ginger-beer peddler, smashed and splintered as though stepped on by a huge, rounded foot.
66. An old-fashioned tricycle, with a small front wheel, bent into scrap-metal.
67. Three charred bodies clumped together.
68. A blood-stained and slightly singed white flag juts up from the dried muck surrounding a broken section of pavement.
69. A clock. The hands are missing. So are the weights.
70. A set of binoculars missing the lenses.
71. A bent and pitted parabolic mirror of unknown composition.
72. Lingering green smoke. It coils sluggishly in the air, but otherwise seems harmless.
73. Dozens of splintered, fractured and partially-melted bricks scattered across the ground from a wall that still bulges as though exposed to an incredible amount of heat.
74. A broken wine-glass. 
75. (2d4) dark, dimly seen objects lying in contorted attitudes here and there.
76. Two spades stuck into the side of a rough hole dug into the side of a rampart-like mound of tightly-packed earth that mostly buries what remains of the next three houses.
77. An expensive hand-carved pipe.
78. A badly cracked chimney collapses into a pile of debris and a quickly-dispersed cloud of soot and dust.
79. Eight full place-settings in fine silver, wrapped-up in an elegant table-cloth and lying half-submerged in a puddle of foul-smelling water.
80. A lurid green glare lights up the night. A falling star.
81. A heap of black broadcloth and two boots. Look more closely and you'll see it's a dead soldier.
82. There is a sharp resinous tang of burning in the air. But no sign of what is burning. Nor where.
83. The broken remains of a caisson, all the ammunition is gone.
84. A broken cash-box. Sifting through the dried mud will reveal (3d6) random coins.
85. Dismal gray stems jut up from a dense thicket of Red Weeds.
86. A smashed heliograph.
87. A little hand-truck, piled with unclean-looking bundles and shabby furniture.
88. What looks to be a cannon, possibly a 12-pounder, only it has been somehow melted and slightly flattened, like a stick of butter left out too long in the sun.
89. (1d4) golf clubs. No bag. Just the clubs.
90. A small outhouse door piled with a variety of cheap household goods.
91. (1d12) fragments of some sort of glittery bronze-type alloy.
92. A woman's shawl trampled into a puddle of ruddy-brown fluid. The fluid has a pudding-like consistency, but seems inert.
93. This hospital tent has been burned down to a smoldering frame. It's unclear if there are any bodies mixed-in with the charred debris.
94. A small portmanteau, its owner still clutches it, the last third of their body is so much black soot and cracked bones.
95. Overturned, the front-end of this motor-cart is badly smashed-in. The batteries in the back-end are mostly broken, leaking and quite useless.
96. A slender, black whip. The handle has been snapped.
97. Some bloody rags. Torn and ragged. They were removed by violence.
98. Burnt, blackened and crumpled horribly, the ruined observation balloon dangles from the dead branches of a dead tree wreathed in Red Creepers.
99. (3d6) Bread Ration Tickets blow across the cobbles. Worthless.
100. A pile of globes, forms and copy-books removed from a children's school. All of it reeks of heating oil. The small band of Orphans who were setting-up this trap were jumped by someone, or something else. There's a good bit of blood spattered on the cobbles not far from the pile of school house debris.

Distracting and Disturbing Sounds (Wermspittle)

I
was pretty well accustomed in my Jermyn Street chambers to passing sounds; usually I did not concern myself, sleeping or waking, with the doings, however noisy, of my neighbours. But this noise was too continuous, too insistent, too imperative to be ignored. There was some active intelligence behind that ceaseless sound; and some stress or need behind the intelligence. I was not altogether selfish, and at the thought of someone's need I was, without premeditation, out of bed...

The Jewel of the Seven Stars, by Bram Stoker

(1912 edition, available via the official Bram Stoker site.)

---

What Was That Sound?

1. A dull, ticking noise echoes softly, yet monotonously from beneath the floorboards. This time it's (2d4) Deathwatch Beetles. You were expecting something else perhaps? Live specimens can be bartered to Nagrothean Refugees for various illicit ointments and contraband salves. Do you think that they eat them?
2. The severed hand of a poet scratches out the verses of an obscure sonnet in Old Cazigillian. Thirty-Six lines. Repeated, repeated, and repeated again and again. Each letter formed one after another, smeared with necrotic debris and infused with a palpable sense of lingering anguish. The particular dialect used is particularly troublesome to translate, even for an accomplished academic. One line will render itself more clearly sensible with a modest effort: 'Let the dead past bury itself!'
3. Voices. Garbled and garrulous. They urge you to extinguish your lights before someone sees you. 'Hurry you fools. They're coming.' Then nothing.
4. A tap, tap, tapping in the night, as though someone were rap, rap, rapping on a window, followed with the flash and over-loud 'BANG!' of a blunderbuss. You're not sure whether you heard a squawk just prior to the incident, but it is quiet now. Very quiet indeed.
5. (1d4) Schrillers have clustered along the eaves of an abandoned property. Their horrid calls weft and wend their way past the waxed-up gaps in storm-windows and most other domestic precautions to torment sleepers with restless insomnia.
6. Somewhere overhead a Harpy screeches in frustration as it is forced from its comfortable perch.
7. The faded echoes of a lunatic's ravings can still be heard, if you know which alley to go to and listen for them. One of the younger Street Urchins will lead you to the alley in question, for a small consideration. Perhaps it's just some cohort of the would-be guide that's making the noises in order to pique the interest of the gullible. However, when you find the body of another Street Urchin sprawled across the rubbish piled-up along the side of the alley, you begin to wonder. Have they been murdered? Or are they suffering from 'The Gurgles?'
8. Crumbling, tumbling stones, or broken brick? Sifting, shifting, a long, low creaking shivers through the walls and floors. You feel the tremor, more and more clearly with each passing breath; the roof is collapsing!
9. (1d6) Caco-Zombies thrash and smash, lash and gnash wildly, madly, obscenely in dozens of languages. Each one argues vehemently with the other voices spilling from its twisted and decaying lips. Not one of them can agree on a course of action. Perhaps, with luck, they will remain so involved until the Sewer Militia can arrive and take care of them properly.
10. Some blasted idiot is playing a medley of distinctively discordant folk tunes from Ullijoz on what one suspects can only be the traditional femurbone flute.
11. Wet, slurping noises seep upwards through the floor-boards as a Corpuscular Sludge oozes into the someone's room. Did the occupant wake in time to escape? Are they calling for help? Or is it their screams that you hear now?
12. Sniveling. It just keeps on. Just on the very edge of perception. It might as well be wordless for all that you can understand of it. But the tone. The very timbre and quality of the seemingly endless whining right at the threshold of your hearing is really getting on your nerves. Everyone else claims that they can't hear anything of the sort. But you know better. It's not all in your head. Somebody, somewhere out there is sniveling plaintively and pathetically and it is driving you mad. Maybe that's what your so-called friends want. Maybe they're all in this together. Lying about not hearing the whining. Trying to get you to crack up. That's it. You're certain now. They're trying to make you think that you're crazy. But why? What are they trying to get from you? Revenge for something you've forgotten? Perhaps they're just jealous. Whatever it is, you need to figure it out and do something before they succeed in driving you out of your mind with this unrelenting noise they all claim not to hear.
13. A terrible, long drawn-out fart shudders and rattles out from the broken windows of a nearby cellar. Quickly, everyone in the immediate area extinguish all open flames and the call goes out for the Sewer Militia. A plucky one-eyed vagrant, just a child really, scurries out from another cellar window and jabbers at anyone who will listen to her: 'Gobb-gobb. Gobb-gobb.' Her lank, dirty hair reeks of Red Weed. You can tell from the off-kilter cut of her colorfully dyed clothes and tiny brass bells stitched into her too-long scarf that she's most likely another refugee from Xalmicar. Most by-standers ignore the girl and her idiot pantomime until an old man tries to force open the outside door to the cellar. It collapses on top of him and his screams are cut short by a massive surge of foul-smelling flesh rolling out of the cellar. It's a Type IV Gobbling Grout. A big one.
14. The locals have been complaining about strange lights and some clumsy bastard plinking away on a badly tuned harpsichord in the boarded-up ruins of an old bordello. The one where the antique chandelier fell onto a huge party of revelers three or four years ago last Spring. Whomever they are, they play the same handful of bawdy tunes, very badly, over again and again, for hours on end. The Street Patrol along this stretch have taken to referring to it as 'The Phantom.' It's a nuisance, but so far no one has offered enough of a reward to make it worthwhile for anyone to go in after the Phantom. Especially since some of the locals are afraid it may well be some sort of demented geist or restless spirit haunting the place, and no one wants to attract the (expensive) attention of a zealot or karcist; they tend to be bad for business, especially when they tarry overlong in a place and start to get all preachy or demanding tithes and extorting payments for 'ongoing spiritual protection.'
15. The Bells are ringing. Someone nearby seems to think that there's an army out there. No one is sure which army. Nor if it's a real siege battalion or just another group of half-starved soldiers cut-off from the front-lines and wandering about lost. Someone else is certain that it's a long over-due caravan, the one their daughter is riding with from out of Lesser Balzin. Another man grows increasingly hysterical and begins to run about wildly, screaming about a fire no one sees. People let him go. Maybe he's right.
16. (4d4) Feral Children in torn and ragged cast-off clothes scavenged from unguarded clotheslines and elsewhere are bickering and wrestling over some sort of carved wooden box. There are at least two distinct factions involved in this dispute. One group follows the commands the black-haired girl who carries a rotting pig's head skewered upon a Jelzian bayonet. She is opposed by a Yellow Kid who claims to have discovered the box while scrounging through the attic of a nearby Unclaimed Property. The box reeks of old magic. It contains the still-beating heart of a Terrible Old Man whom no one remembers any more*.
17. Scraping noises shiver up from below. Muffled voices mutter and swear in a coarse jargon most people would recognize as Morlock Ditch-Cant. Another tunnel? Here? Is that a good idea?
18. A high-pitched screech. Three rapid shots taken in desperation. Some one falls to the street yelling for someone to grab their hand damn it. A meaty thud. Another screech--cut short by an over-charged gonne. Fragments of what used to be a gargoyle rain down across two roofs, clanking and pinging as they bounce off of the eaves and clatter onto the cobbles of the street below. Amateurs.
19. Voices. Arguing. Heated and vociferous. Excessively foul language punctuated by terrifying, gurgly screams. You're not the only one to hear the noise and come out to investigate. The sounds only get louder as you pursue their source. Some moron caged-up a blatherer in the downstairs privy. It isn't funny.
20. >POP!< The noise-ward fails. A herd of red-speckled black penguins panics, breaking loose from their rickety pens in a local attic. The plump birds stampede down the stairs of a half-vacant boarding house, leaving the stairs a slippery mess of trampled bodies, feathers and bird shit. The teenager hired to watch the old Tsalalian blacksmith's unlicensed flock wakes up in the midst of this "penguingeddon" only to get carried downstairs and out into the street by the tumultuous tide of screeching, flapping, frightened birds who quickly scatter in every direction. Looks like practically everyone but the owners of the flock will be eating penguin tonight.

*Some of the local Old-Timers might recognize the box, but they're probably mistaken or lying. If you take it to Schroedinger & Cave, they will offer you 1,000 open-looped silver sestrii on the spot. Then they will call the Red Watch and immediately turn evidence against you for being involved with a notorious war criminal known only as 'The Vulture.'