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...

Oculent (Wermspittle)

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"The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself."

Friedrich Nietzsche

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Oculent
No. Enc.: 1d3 (1d6)
Alignment: Neutral (Cruel Tendencies...)
Movement: 90' (Float/Guided Levitation)
Armor Class: 6 (Scalemail)
Hit Dice: 1d4+2 (Some individuals advance as spellcasters)
Attacks: 1 (Area Effect or Ranged with a focus on one target)
Damage: 1d4 or by effect/spell
Save: F4 Except No Save versus magical Fear effects.
Morale: 10 (Extremely susceptible to magical Fear...)

Special: Cast Detect Magic, Read Magic, Detect Invisibility and Telekinesis* at will. Oculent communicate via a limited form of telepathy**. Must succeed on a Save to learn each new spell gained if advancing in level as a spellcaster (failure means loss of spell). They also require double the usual XP to progress in any spellcasting class (Except Cleric). Most Oculents will not or cannot cast Dispel Magic. 

* Oculent Telekinesis is limited to 1/2 pound per HD/Level.
** Oculent Telepathy limited to 10' range and requires a written language known to both parties. They cannot communicate with illiterates...

Oculents will sometimes offer to serve as a Servant/Hireling, Familiar or even Companion Creature, depending upon Reaction Roll, how they are approached/treated, terms offered, any spells used etc.

Rugose and vaguely angular in outline, the Oculent are smallish beings (averaging 1' in diameter per every 3 HD/Levels) with a pronounced innate ability for Detecting and Reading Magic which leads many of them to become spellcasters of one sort or another, but never Clerics.

Oculent tend to be shy and retiring sorts, scholarly introverts who delight in poring over old scrolls, ancient tomes and paging through musty grimoires in the pursuit of magical lore and the chance to attempt to learn another spell, ritual or formula. Unfortunately for them, the Oculent tend to struggle in truly comprehending the things they read oh so easily; despite being capable of clearly reading nearly any magical text, they require a great deal of contemplation, study and practice to learn even the most basic children's cantrip. It is for this reason that some Oculents swallow their pride and take up the responsibilities of an acolyte, disciple or even familiar, depending on the egocentric demands and proclivities of whomever they deem a suitable master, mentor or teacher.

Oculent are ambitious yet patient sorts. Some have lingered in magical service to their 'masters' for decades, serving in placid silence, never revealing the full extent of their abilities or knowledge (or opinions), and unobtrusively learning all they can no matter how minor, worthless or deprecated it might be for their 'masters.'

Not especially brave nor entirely forthright in their dealings, the Oculent are often disregarded as weak, cowardly and nearly useless creatures best suited for use as Familiar (granting their masters the ability to Detect/Read Magic at will and sometimes other abilities determined by negotiation), or as a disciple that pretty much just turns pages on command or who oversees the cataloging and indexing one's scroll collection.

Despite lacking any limbs and having poor depth perception, Oculents hear extremely well and are fairly quick studies when it comes to learning written languages...they just struggle with the process of mastering and imprinting spells upon their weirdly structured brains. One wonders just what might transpire were the Oculent to ever begin to develop their own unique form of spellcasting instead of continuing to struggle with the approaches and canonical corpus everyone else takes for granted...

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Any Oculent who learns Comprehend Languages is not long for anyone else's service...

Spell: Confound Flesh

Confound Flesh
Level: 5
Duration: 1 day per level of caster
Range: 30'

In an instant, everything in contact with the victim's flesh is commingled into a single organism. Clothes, armor, weapons, backpack contents; all of it is integrated into a mad, screaming mess. All potions caught within this spell's area of effect are subject to miscability effects, all rations are considered either wasted or consumed, all wine/water is lost. However all spell-books remain unaffected as stipulated by a nested codicil within the structure of the spell itself.

On a successful Save, the duration is halved and the victim reverts back to normal at the end of the spell with only a few minor lingering after-effects. A failed Save results in the victim becoming so integrated with their gear that they become an amalgam-creature and are no longer able to qualify as anything other than a Grotesk.

RPG Blog Carnival: April 2018 Kick-Off

The Theme for this Month's RPG Blog Carnival is Journals, Grimoires and Spell-Books and we're hosting it right here at Hereticwerks. You can find out all the details about the RPG Blog Carnival and RPG Blog Carnival Archive by clicking over at the always excellent Of Dice and Dragons blog (well worth a visit!). The RPG Blog Carnival has been going on for years now (since 2008) and the Archive is a virtual treasure trove of great ideas and advice from quite a range of contributors.

If you're interested in participating, it's super easy; just post something pertinent to the month's topic and leave a comment below with a link to the post and at the end of the month the host (this month that's us) will write a round-up post for the moth and include links back to all the participants. Any questions? Just ask in the comments below or click over to the RPG Blog Carnival Home Page for all the details, including how you can sign-up to host one of the monthly carnivals at your blog!

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Journals, Grimoires & Spell-Books

A 'Journal' could be a daily newspaper (including tabloids and scandal sheets), a periodical dealing with matters of current interest such as a magazine or an academic journal; a record of daily experiences, personal reflections, ideas or observations such as a diary; a record of transactions as in book-keeping, politics or gambling; or it might take the form of a journalist's notebook, a naturalist's sketchbook, the log book of a ship, or the daily records of an expedition into some previously unexplored region of time and space. There's a lot of leeway as to what counts as a journal so here are a few examples to consider:

Dracula by Bram Stoker
One of the best examples of a journal in fiction that you are likely to find, and that's just the beginning. Dracula is an Epistolary Novel containing newspaper excerpts, diary entries, letters, telegrams, log entries, doctor's notes--everything you could ever want in terms of inspirational examples for creating your own journals and whatnot and it's still a great book. Read it.

The Diary of Alonzo Typer.
One of the more infamous examples of how a doomed investigator into things probably best left alone manages to somehow scrawl details of his demise into his journal even as he is dragged away into the darkness by massive, inhuman paws in a manner reminiscent of the Caves of Caerbannog scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Completely demolishes any lingering tension or suspense and effectively kills the horror aspect of the story mostly because the author just wouldn't shut up. Delete the last sentence and you leave it hanging as a mystery of sorts...less of a farce.

Spurious Crypto-Diaries?
Rear Admiral Richard E. Byrd was a truly great explorer who reached both the North and South Poles at a time few could have made such a claim. Byrd's actual career and accomplishments are plenty inspirational enough, but if you want to delve into conspiracies, hollow earth theory and ufos...then you might want to do a Google Search for "Secret Diary of Richard Byrd" and enjoy your journey down the rabbit hole...

Historical Journals
Townsend's offers quite a bit more than just cookbooks and youtube videos, including a selection of reprinted historical journals that are absolutely fascinating reading. The 18th Century Journals site provides access to loads of digitized examples of historical journals from (you guessed it) the 18th Century. Appleton's Journal as published in the 19th century and their archives are online for one and all. The US National Library of Medicine offers a lot of rare books, herbals, brochures, pamphlets, and more...much of it digitized and easily searchable. Just click on the Early Manuscripts and see how far that takes you. If that's not enough there's the Sixteenth Century Journal,
Wikipedia has an extensive list of Historical Journals if you want to dig deeper into this sort of thing...and there's also a nice listing of 19th Century British Periodicals to consider.

The Diary of Anne Frank
Very serious stuff. A young girl and her family hide from the Nazis for two years before dying of typhus in a concentration camp. Grim, heart-breaking and written in a child's voice that is more chilling and disturbing than any made-up horror story. If this is a bit too real, then there is a list of Fictional Diaries at Wikipedia to help you find something a bit more to your taste.

One of the Greatest Travelogues?
The Travels of Marco Polo remains a real classic and a great resource for developing a campaign based upon exploration and all sorts of politics, skullduggery, and adventure opportunities that come with traveling into the heart of a great empire on a 'trading mission.' There are quite a lot of Traveler's Accounts worth investigating if you're at all interested in this sort of thing. Some of the strangest monsters you're likely to encounter in RPGs such as the Arimaspians derive from old traveler's tales, so it can be quite entertaining to go digging around in these sorts of resources.

So that barely scratches the surface of just the Journals part of the topic...but it feels like a pretty fair start on things. Later this week we'll have more on Grimoires and another follow-up on Spell-books, including some examples and details of how we handle these things in Wermspittle and beyond.

What sort of Journals or Grimoires do you use in your games or campaigns? How do you handle Spell-Books?

Valg-Sindril

"By polluting clear water with slime you will never find good drinking water."

Aeschylus

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Valg-Sindil
No. Enc.: 1d6 (6d12)
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 40' (120') [levitation]
Armor Class: 7
Hit Dice: 1d4 hit points, take half damage from fire.
Attacks: 1 (tail-sting) [limit 3 attacks per day]
Damage: 1d2+Poison (1d4 damage, Save or suffer 50% reduction to Movement and lose all DEX benefits for 1d4 days: Save only applies to Move/DEX effects NOT damage.)
Save: F4
Morale: 11 (nearly fearless)

Special: Most encounters (75%) with the Valg-Sindil are with slime-poisoned water-sources.

These blind, wriggling things with vestigial flippers, writhing palps and venomous spines inhabit damp, dark places and especially love infesting wells and cisterns where they secrete their eggs and introduce their noxious, toxic slime into the water. The slime is non-flammable, but often contaminates water sources, allowing these pests to affect scores of people who've never seen or encountered them.

The toxic slime of the Valg-Sindil persists for 2d4 days after being excreted into a water supply.

A simple Neutralize Poison spell will eliminate the slime's toxicity in the case of a water-source, but will not get rid of the slime itself, which will act to attract more of the nasty little creatures with its scent unless someone actually goes down there and physically scoops up the stuff and disposes of it appropriately, usually by boiling it down into an inert sludge or selling it off to various distillers or alchemists who use the stuff for the basis of various experiments or processes of no real commercial value. Or so they claim...

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Foragers and Scavenger-crews are constantly warned about minor nuisances such as the Valg-Sindil since there doesn't need to be a direct confrontation for the vile pests to play havoc with a group of green recruits or for one mistake to cost a veteran dearly. No one wants to be dealing with toxic slime when their canteens are empty.

Some members of the Sewer Militia started their careers scraping Valg-slime from cistern walls or shoveling the gunk out of wells after the adults drove off the nasty things...usually.

Valg-eggs can be preserved in vinegar and are something of a delicacy in the Winter months, despite the very minor after-effects (50% reduction to Move, No DEX Benefits, for 1d4 hours).

Various tribes (Abhuman and otherwise) have been known to use the slime in trapping prey or against enemies by coating their darts, javelins or arrows in the stuff.

Actual Play Report from the Fringes of Wermspittle (Session Three; Happy Thanksgiving!)

Not everything wants to eat you...and it is always good to have friends, especially in weird places...

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J's Notes from our Thanksgiving weekend game.

1. Camping in field outside Gadra's tomb. N hears horns and dogs barking on other side of river, calls on the Hobyah (using their Mark on her hand) and asks them to check it out. We break camp and head toward the yellow brick road away from the sounds. I almost step in a dodo nest. Take 3 intact dodo eggs. They're as big as ostrich eggs!
2. The new-new-kid S (N's guest) comes running toward us, hands bound, chased by three Pruztian hunters and dogs. We cut her free from her bonds. All of us run up hill to hide. One hunter leaves with his dog, we guess for reinforcements.
3. We spot three 9-foot albino penguins in the Red Weeds on other side of hill. N asks her Hobyah allies to scout so we can avoid them. Hobyah discover penguin-diving -- literally jumping into the gaping maws of the huge birds, sliding down into their stomachs and them disappearing only to come back and do it again, and again, and again. The Hobyah are immensely pleased and soon there are close to a hundred of them diving into the highly distressed giant albino penguin's mouths. Hunters hear the noise, approach the spot and are quite befuddled. Penguins are traumatized. The hunters leave.
4. We cross river away from hunters. Shallow water, but everyone falls. No injuries. Supplies soaked, some lost. Feels like we're being watched. There are Basajun, Woses, Jub-Jub Birds and Slithy Toves in the area, so it might only be something like that--some inoffensive being or animal not ouot to eat us all...besides there are three huge penguins lying exhausted and weakened behind us for any predators to go dine on at their leisure.
5. Farmstead downstream. Lots of bomb craters. One UXB, Franzikaner make. We decide to check out the farmstead. Avoid Slow Sand and Black Thorns getting there. Fields of mega cabbage and radishes. Hobyah use cabbages as trampolines. S makes comment about eating farmers. Morlock blood? (Dice were rolled, S does indeed appear to have some slight Morlock lineage in her background, but it is not entirely definite--she needs to be tested).
6. Farmstead has house, barn, mil; all bomb damagde and / or overgrown. No signs of recent habitation.
7. Check out house. 3 levels. Lower 2 looted or filthy from blown leaves, rain and elements. Seed company calendar on wall. Attic looks fairly intact. Q (The Thief-to-be) climbs up. He discovers a well-built Shooting Platform, where the farm families would fight-off the Biters and such over the long. dark winters. Lots of homemade weapons. He tosses down what might be useful, including family's Farmers and Mechanics Manual
8. Mill is overgrown. Sara uncovers a fox nest and takes red speckled fox egg. since when did Foxes lay eggs? Weird...
9. Barn empty except owls and mice. Root cellar under barn. Door has Achuin lock with symbols for cleanliness, air quality, and pest control. Door is clear of debris and footprints. N consults books (currently carrying Every Good Child's Guide To Things To Bash and Burn, a gardening book, Our First Blue Book written in Etrurian, and the Farmers and Mechanics Manual) and turns off wards. Q picks lock. A (the Fighter) opens door. 12 steps down. A stays top as guard. Cellar has smoked meat, veggies, and herbs. We all take what we can. Go back up stairs. 3 Landsvattir at top. We think that they knocked A out. These things don't immediately attack us. N quickly consults her growing arsenal of books again. These creatures are protectors. They have watched over the farm for decades. Now that it is abandoned, they need to be released, or else in time they may curdle, spoil and turn into something rotten, vile and nasty. The group need to find their pact-anchor to release them since the family is gone. Leave all cellar-goods behind, so as not to offend the creatures, walk past landsvattir. They seem sad. Let us pass.
10. We dig through rubble. N calls on her friends the Hobyah for help. Eventually we find the anchor-object, a ceramic vessel that clearly radiates a slow, deep magical aura. We give it to landsvattir. They are released from their pact and we take cellar-goods. Landsvattir withdraw back to the Tulgey Wood, what we now can see was once an orchard.

We camp at farm for the night.

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One of the funnier moments came after the game session was wrapping-up, when people started to realize that there was no way that Q could carry anywhere near as much loot as he was lugging around, all rolled up in his carpet...which was definitely magical.

The Hobyahs have really taken a liking to N's character, especially now that she helped them invent 'Penguin Diving,' which will cause no end of stress and turmoil back in Wermspittle when these little creatures start spreading the word to their fellows and they begin launching themselves into the attic-pens of the Tsalalians...

J did not get into the details regarding how the group handled the Pruztian hunters and their dogs--they were hunting after whomever stole the local Castellan's new armor and short sword from the shop back in Kridlist in our first game session. Not only did the group avoid getting spotted, the Hobyahs muddled-up all the tracks and signs of their camp-site that the hunters were not able to figure much out, other than a small group had spent time there recently...and this being a notorious area filled with nasty beasts, bandits and worse...there was no guarantees that it was a small group. Then they followed the sounds to find the penguins and Hobyahs and pretty-much decided it just was not worth it. Besides they now had a story worth telling back at their base-camp. something that might earn them a few free drinks, and that beat trudging about in the thickets on a fool's errand.

It was also quite a lot of fun to watch a group really make use of things they've found in the course of the game to solve a situation that might otherwise have gotten really, really ugly. Now besides the Hobyah's, the group has three friends out in the Tulgey Woods who might remember their act of kindness someday...

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Unfortunately we did not encounter the Jabberwocky, any Damned Things, nor the Bandersnatch...this time...but we'll see what happens next time!

Tomb of Gadra: Actual Play Summary

Recently we were able to run a second session for our friends who had their first adventure just outside the village of Kridlist. This time we started off safe within the bounds of the camp set-up by Gnosiomandus. After a good night's sleep the party did an inventory of their loot and considered where they might want to go from there. The old man and his two companions were headed off to Wermspittle with the newly-captured tiger (the same one that the party had managed to avoid previously). Since it turned out that the tiger was in fact pregnant, Gnosiomandus was in a good mood and offered to barter with the group to help them get themselves together so they would be prepared to face whatever lie ahead of them. Q took advantage of the opportunity to unload some of the bulkier items he was lugging about and was interested in acquiring a good short sword or something along those lines. When J's character, a run-away from one of the three circus families in Wermspittle, offered Gnosiomandus the little pouch of White Powder she had recovered last time, he was in a tremendously good mood and offered everyone their personal choice of any three weapons or what-not contained within his traveling fold-box panoply (literally a tesseract-container fitted-out as an arsenal filled with all manner of weapons, devices, mechanisms and such-like).

While the group did a bit of shopping, the winged-monkey that they had found earlier took off to go scout a number of limestone formations in the vicinity that might have caves or some other sort of explore-able locations in, on or around them.

In short-order the group finished-up their various transactions, said farewell to the sleeping (and very pregnant tiger), and headed off to a likely looking location discovered by the winged-monkey, who led them to the spot, pointed it out, and left to rejoin its master Gnosiomandus who was in the process of trundling down the closer spiral of the yellow brick road on his way back to Wermspittle.

The location in question was none other than The Toxic Tomb of Gadra, an adventure that has been in dire need of some play-testing for a good long while now. Oh, to be sure, there were several other possible locations available, but this was the one the group settled upon, so it is where they went. The only rail-roading around here is underground as part of the Unter-rail...and they have not yet found a way down to that yet...

So...here are J's notes:

Here are my raw notes for Gadra. They're numbered to make them a little easier to follow.

1. Gnosiomandus's flying monkey scoped the area for us and pointed us to the outcropping where we found the tomb.
2. On the way there we went through some ferns and avoided a poppy field.
3. We found a cave opening that had been sealed with glazed yellow bricks. Most had been removed and stacked to the side.
4. There was an inscription at the entrance that said Gadra and the words for "toxic" in Pruztian, Franzikaner, and Achuin. They glowed purple.
5. There was a pit with spikes that had already been released. There was a dead child's body.
6. There was a chamber with a vent shaft to one side.
7. The corridor went down and up. We used R's pitchfork to trigger another pit trap and used rope to cross it.
8. New chamber. Walls have been scraped clean. Floor did have mosaic tiles. Three spiral mounds. One mound chipped at the top. Chipped area has had something removed.
9. R (the Archer) found a gold and silver pendant with a teardrop pearl. Pearl has a purple sheen. Chain is unclasped. She keeps it.
10. We opened a mound. It's a Minken barrow. Bottom falls out, no one hurt. We pull the casket out. Dart trap sprung. Each person takes 1hp damage. Open the casket. Spider-hand symbol on inside of lid. N thinks it's moving. We move the body. Casket has a false bottom. We count 14 hand spider eggs in it. 7 are crushed in extraction. R has other seven eggs.
11. We hear second party come in. We wait to ambush them. They get as far as the gas trap. They trigger it. Two looters dead, the kid leading them leaves quickly (Scared). Gas sinks, is heavier than air, leaks through cracks in lower walls, revealing a chamber below.
12. Open third mound. Uncover then open an ornate casket. Smash another nasty hand spider. Take six more eggs.
13. Come to a spinnable door. Room behind it is weird, "feels bad." Door shuts once we're in. Open chamber, painted white, metallic under dust. Cinnabar carvings, mercury dripping from ceiling. We break through a wall section. Air quality in here is really bad. Something in the walls hurts our eyes when we look at it, especially N (the spell-caster).
14. Chamber with pool of mercury and a man-sized sarcophagus. Q figures out how to drain pool and raise sarcophagus. R's pearl necklace is pulled toward the sarcophagus. We decide not to open it and it's too heavy to take with us but we have info to sell.
15. Tomb is spirally. Use rubble in final chamber to build ramp to entry corridor so we don't have to go back through everything, then re-seal hole in corridor wall and leave.

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As you can see, this place included some nasty traps, some of which were already set-off by previous explorers...and one of which was set off by a trio of opportunists who followed the party into this place.

The level of mercury fumes in this place varies a bit, but no one can last for very long before showing signs of mercury poisoning. Luckily for the group, they managed to open some ventilation and moved past the worst of the traps--even avoiding a couple of deathtrap situations by using good, common sense and a bit of intuition and strategy. For first-timers and newbies, this group played more old school than I've seen in ages and it was truly grand. They managed to get a lot of loose low-end loot here and there, which made the Thief-in-training very happy, but they also managed to acquire some very valuable information regarding this tomb that they can now sell to some interested party, including a rough map outlining the known hazards, identified traps, and the spots best left alone by the next group...unless they come prepared with gas-masks and hazard-suits.

Now I am at work revising the adventure a bit to take advantage of the group's feed-back to make things run a little more smoothly in places, and to incorporate some of the changes they've made into the final version of the manuscript.

Thank you to all the members of our little adventuring crew. I hope you all had as much fun as I did exploring Gadra's Tomb!

Dekapus [Wermspittle]

“I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?”

John Lennon

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Dekapus
No. Enc.: 1
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 120' [40'] (Levitation)
Armor Class: Head/Torso 5 (as Chain Mail), Limbs 7 (As Studded Leather)
Hit Dice: 3+1 [Advance as Thieves, Spell-casters, and sometimes Fighters.]
Attacks: 2 (Improves by HD/Level)
Damage: 1d4 (+2 to hit), 1d4 (+2 to hit), or by Spell
Save: F4
Morale: 7 [12 if combating Mucoids]

Special: Affected by all spells that target 'Humans.' Dekapus can opt to convert one of their Attack rolls to a Dodge (Roll as 'To Hit,' and if successful they avoid one incoming attack. They receive double the normal bonus for using bucklers/small shields, but cannot use normal or larger shields. They can only wield Light weapons until achieving 4 or more HD/Levels at which point they can use Medium weapons. It is very rare that a Dekapus would ever wield a Heavy weapon and they would likely require serious augmentation to do so effectively. Dekapus receive double the normal DEX Bonus to all their Thief skills. All Dekapus can cast Blur, Hypnotic Pattern, Obscuring Mist, and Hypnotism once per day and Misdirection up to three times per day.

[Percent Liar: 72%]

The Dekapus is a pseudo-octopoid...these dishonest creatures are actually mammalian, possess ten limbs and claim to be descended from humans. Fierce enemies of the Mucoids and others, the Dekapus are notorious Oneiromancers, Mountebanks, and Thieves skilled in the arts of misdirection and obfuscation alike. Their appendages terminate in a pair of soft-seeming boneless fingerettes that can split into multiple smaller tendrils as needed, granting them a level of close-up finesse much envied by surgeons. For some reason, some claim it is squeamishness, the Dekapusians rarely, if ever enter into any sort of medical profession.

Actors, Performers, Jugglers, Troubadours, Poets (both Accursed and otherwise), Pantomimers, Puppeteers, Artisans, Repairers of Reputations, Insinuationists, Saboteurs, Spies, Observers, Dreamers (Lucid, Deep and otherwise), Reporters...Dekapus have taken on a great many roles throughout Wermspittle, primarily in order to carry on their ages-old conflict with the Mucoids. The mutual antipathy between these two peoples is legendary, fierce and abiding, having persisted across centuries with no clear-cut resolution in sight.

Most commonly Dekapus are Thieves of every sort, but an appreciable number of them become Spell-casters such as Illusionists (including Projectionists), Oneiromancers and Druids with a penchant for the Tulgey Woods, Purple Forest, the White Orchard  and other such Weird Woods.

The few Dekapus that take up the path of Rangers specialize in hunting down and slaughtering Mucoids and have developed a number of peculiar and unique weapons and harmful devices exclusively designed to kill, maim, or incapacitate Mucoids. Their unwavering hatred of the Mucoids is so severe that Dekapus Rangers will also sometimes deign to hunt down Rooftopi, Octoscholars and any other Cephalopodians who resemble Mucoids in even the least bit.

Other Dekapus go to great lengths to ingratiate themselves with all other forms of humanity, no matter how distorted, Infected, teratogenically Afflicted, or aberrantly inclined...just as long as they have no connection to their ancestral enemies...

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"My dreams are of water. And my nightmares..."

Siouxsie Sioux

Candlewerm [Wermspittle]

One of the first creatures one learns to Summon, Call or Bind at the Academy is a Candlewerm. The little beasts make excellent 'first servitors' for those students who've never yet had a pet or gained a Familiar. Besides carrying around candles or torches, these things can be taught simple tricks...like the time a student trained a Candlewerm to wield a wand...with rather mixed results.

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Candlewerm
No. Enc.: 1
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 30' (10') [Climb Walls]
Armor Class: 8 [as Leather]
Hit Dice: 1 hit point
Attacks: 1
Damage: 1 point
Save: MU1
Morale: 6 [11 if made a Servitor]

Special: Blind (Immune to visual illusions, Glamers, Figments), Able to climb vertical surfaces, Vague Empathy allows them to mostly understand a few verbal commands.

Candlewerms are among the most common, minor forms of Servitors known in Wermspittle. The little things are not suited to service as Familiar, but they are intensely loyal and surprisingly clever--if one takes the time to train them to do more than just lug around a lit candle or carry a torch in their specialized mouth-parts.

Certain obscure treatises claim that it is possible to enhance minor servitors like the Candlewerms, but few spell-casters ever make that much effort as it is considered a waste of time.

---

A spell-caster may choose to invest as much as 10% but no less than 1% of their recently earned XP to enhance their Candlewerm, allowing the creature to gain additional hit dice as if advancing as a magic-user at 10% of the normal XP cost and never gaining the ability to cast spells...unless further measures are taken to elevate the simple wermic-brain of the creature...but this sort of thing is strenuously discouraged on campus...

Edge Creeper [Wermspittle]

---

“Intelligence is the ability of a living creature to perform pointless or unnatural acts."

Roadside Picnic,

Arkady Strugatsky​

---

Edge Creeper
No. Enc.: 1d4
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 90' (30')
Armor Class: 7 (as Studded Leather)
Hit Dice: 2 [Advance as Magic-User/Thief Dual-Class]
Attacks: 1
Damage: (by Spell)
Save: MU2
Morale: 8

Special: See in all directions, Immune to Sleep, Use Detect Invisible at will, Move Silently gains bonus of +10%, Find Traps gains +20% bonus however they cannot remove traps, cannot be back-stabbed, ignore all damage rolls of 1 or 2.

Silent, patient, playful...these beings are as much animal as vegetable and yet not quite either. Their tall, central body mass is very flexible and they easily contort themselves to get into tight spaces. Their sturdy four legs allow them to clamber about through rubble, debris, or uneven terrain with the seemingly effortless grace of a deer. Eyes of several types and sizes form apparently at will or at random all over their main body, allowing the Edge Creepers to see in nearly every direction. They have displayed a deep and abiding interest in discovering and uncovering all manner of concealed doors, secret passages, lingering booby-traps, unexploded bombs, mines, and so on. Sometimes they leave markers or Warning Signs, but other times they seem satisfied with merely leaving a formerly hidden thing exposed. So far the Wall Guard have not been able to enlist their help along the Inner Ramparts or the Outer Precincts.

Little more is known about them, aside from the few encountered so far have all been spell-casters with an intense interest in the Black Zones and the Glow Field. They seem to avoid the White Orchard for some reason, but may have some sort of affinity for or connection to the Cold Roads. It is rumored that the Edge Creepers first appeared in Wermspittle by way of the Cold Roads, though there are some who are convinced that they first entered by way of the Glow Field or the White Orchard...so far no one knows, so there is a potentially lucrative opportunity for someone to go forth and discover the answers so many Experts and Academics are arguing about...

---

The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves.

Carl Jung

Yzel [Wermspittle+]

"Retaliation is related to nature and instinct, not to law. Law, by definition, cannot obey the same rules as nature."

Albert Camus

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Yzel
No. Enc.: 1d4 (1d6)
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 120' [Levitation]
Armor Class: 3 (as Plate Mail)
Hit Dice: 3+ [Advance as Fighters, 1 in 100 may be a Ranger]
Attacks: 1
Damage: As Weapon
Save: F3+
Morale: 12

Special: Unaffected by Fear, Confusion, Illusions, Charm, or other mind-influencing powers/spells. All thief abilities are reduced by -4 penalty within 30' radius. Unwavering Morale (Never retreat, never surrender...unless ordered). When engaged in conflict become Mindless/Completely Instinctive with +2 on all Initiative rolls.

Gifted calligraphists of high order, the Yzel can only be addressed effectively in their own unique written language which in some ways resembles something alive unto itself. Any spell-caster seeking to learn this language must undertake a very demanding magical retreat lasting no less than one year in order to successfully assimilate and integrate a beginner's level appreciation of the complex whorls, squiggles and intricate diacritical marks involved in this uncanny textual tradition. Those who invest the time find themselves able to converse, after a fashion, with the Yzel and engage their services as guardians or soldiers.

Voiceless, faceless, telepathically muted, the Yzel are deeply intelligent plants from Somewhere
Else who are renowned as being highly civilized beings, despite being almost totally opaque to all forms of magical scrutiny, psychic snoopery or technological intrusion.

The Yzel are never found unarmored save when they first spawn, but so far no one has discovered where they go to get their distinctive body-casques made from multiple alloys of bronze and beryllium. The armor is so cunningly wrought that it cannot be removed from the creature and upon their death the armor crumbles away into an ultra-fine dust, as does the Yzel's body. They are incapable of being resurrected, raised or converted into undead.

When an Yzel enters into conflict they surrender to their instincts in a manner that renders them mindless, but not in the same way that a Berserker enters their rage. The Yzel in battle is a terrifying, implacable opponent that cannot be read, second-guessed or misled--they become focused completely on just the battle at hand...and that could be seen as a flaw of sorts, possibly leading to their downfall against an opponent willing to sacrifice lesser fighters to occupy the Yzel, allowing one to by-pass them altogether.

---

"To win any battle, you must fight as if you are already dead."

Musashi

LeDaan [Wermspittle]

---

“We can't have any weak or silly. Life is real again, and the useless and cumbersome and mischievous have to die. They ought to die. They ought to be willing to die. It's a sort of disloyalty, after all, to live and taint the race.”

The War of the Worlds

H.G. Wells

---

LeDaan
No. Enc.: 3d6 (6d6)
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 120' (40')
Armor Class: 6 (as Scale-Mail)
Hit Dice: 1+ {May advance as any Class]
Attacks: 1 (Weapon or Spell, barehanded does 1d4)
Damage: As Weapon, spell or item (Wand/Rod)
Save: F4 [Improves with Advancement]
Morale: 9 [-4 penalty if confronted by Infernal Devices or Implacable Machines]

Special: Immune to most common forms of poison or venom; Gas Masks protect against airborn toxins such as pollen, spores, gas, etc.; wear scale/lamellar armor incorporating under-layers of Gray Flannel, Whitesuit Fabric, or similar textiles that offer them protection from extreme temperatures and resistance to acids; Keenly interested in all Pre-War artifacts; Dedicated enemies of all Mucoids (+4 on Reaction Rolls) and/or members of the Purple Horde or anyone showing clear signs of being compromised/serving the Purple Clouds in any way, shape or form (+6 on Reaction Rolls).

Proud, haughty, arrogant...and resplendently dressed in ornate masks and vibrantly-dyed fabrics, the LeDaan are a fiercely independent people who claim descent from Eloi and Morlock lineages alike, as well as many other forms of humanity with the exception of the Mucoids whom they despise as utterly contemptible traitors. The one other form of humanity they hate above even the deformed and grotesque starborn Mucoids are those who serve the Purple Clouds and march beneath the Banners of the Purple Hordes who are led by the so-called Desert Fathers.

The LeDaan are clever people, skilled in the ways of survival within some of the most terrible Post-War wastelands; they consider the Wilderness their best defense and only venture into ruined cities or approach established enclaves or Redoubts in small groups...always under watch by multiple scouts and trackers. It is not that they are collectively paranoid, so much as the LeDaan cultures that have arisen from the ashes and wreckage of prior epochs retain a keen sense of the danger of complicity and compromise, how collaborators were far more destructive to the old civilizations than even the bombs, the death rays or the Black Smoke ever could have been.

No one recalls ever seeing a LeDaan without their ornate Gas Masks securely fastened-down. Perhaps this is to forever hide their secret shame, the vivid oily-purple irises of their eyes...a lingering trace of their ancestor's former service to the Purple Clouds...

---

“For a time I believed that mankind had been swept out of existence, and that I stood there alone, the last man left alive.”

The War of the Worlds

H.G. Wells

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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?

Book-Keepers

“But need alone is not enough to set power free: there must be knowledge.”

Ursula K. Le Guin,

A Wizard of Earthsea

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Book-Keepers
No. Enc.: 1d4
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 90' (30')
Armor Class: 7 (as Studded Leather)
Hit Dice: 2 (Advance as Magic-Users)
Attacks: 1d2 or Spell-Taking (can also use Magic Items such as Wands)
Damage: See Below
Save: MU2
Morale: 6

Special: These creatures can attempt to drain any spell a victim has memorized by making a touch attack that inflicts 1d2 damage per Round, requiring 1 Round per level of spell being extracted. If contact is broken during this attempt, the spell is lost to both parties.

Driven by obsession and totally lacking in conscience and possessing only a vague echo of their former intellects, Book-Keepers are undead creatures of unnatural memory and lingering reflex, beings so caught-up in the pursuit of spells and the act of spell-casting that even in death they pursue new spells at any cost.

Seldom encountered outside the Academy, Book-Keepers are considered Very Minor Undead; verminous magical pests best left to apprentices and students to deal with generally. Only in rare instances when a Book-Keeper might have stumbled upon an ancient, forgotten trove of old scrolls or books and gained a considerable number of spells would there be reason enough to alert the elders, professors or administrators of academia. Many faculty members look upon the Book-Keepers as something of a test for their charges, an opportunity for those with the wits to make the most of it or a contest of skills and/or personal power for those too dim to continue along the path of spell-casting.

Some nuisances are really gifts in disguise, if one only knows how to make the most of the situation.

---

'If you want to make things go BOOM! join the artillery or the grenadiers. Spells make lousy -- and overly expensive -- bombs.'

Jadivak Klinehorst,

Third Exchequer of the Academy at Wermpsittle

from a quotation carved over the door to the Little Arena as a reminder to others