Textual Corruptions and Ritual Disasters

In any culture where books are copied by hand, textual corruptions abound. Where translation is involved, the problems are exacerbated. As anyone who does scholarly work with texts knows, even the best translations are problematic, and translations are not usually the best. While elsewhere this presents only intellectual difficulties, in books of summoning the perils are spiritual and physical. 

When making notes on the history of a magical manuscript, I like to include a percentage chance that a given editions will contain textual corruptions. For example, later editions of The Book of Six Circles are riddled with errors and have a whopping 75% chance of suffering from textual corruptions. Here's my technique for handling this. It involves several steps, but should take no more than 5 minutes of preparation in total. 

The Problematic Rituals table I present below should also be used to determine the results of trying to perform a ritual under adverse conditions, for example, when one does not possess the minimum required level to do so, or when the ritual is somehow tampered with, or interrupted.

Step 1: Is the Text Corrupt? 

Roll d100. If you get a number equal to or lower than the percentage chance for the relevant edition, the text is corrupted. Proceed to Step 2. (If you have not prepared anything in advance, you may assume as a rule of thumb that there is a 25% that a manuscript your players stumble upon contains corruptions.)

Step 2: How Many Rituals are Affected? 

Roll 1d4. This is the number of rituals suffering from a serious textual problem. Proceed to Step 3.

Step 3: Which Rituals? 

Assign each ritual in the manuscript to a single playing card. Shuffle these cards into a pile and draw the number of cards you rolled in Step 2. These are the corrupted rituals. Proceed to Step 4.

Step 4: Corrupted How? 

For each corrupted ritual, roll d20 on the Problematic Rituals chart below. That's what happens if the corrupted ritual is performed.

Step 5: Does the PC Notice? 

When the wizard begins studying the book, there is a chance that he will detect the corruptions. The DM should roll a d20. The target number is 20 minus (the wizard's intelligence bonus + 1/2 his level rounding up + bonuses for research). The research bonus can only be applied if the PC is has access to a library with related manuscripts: +2 for consulting other texts of summoning, +5 for consulting another edition of the very same text. If the number rolled is equal or higher than the target, the PC recognizes that the text is fishy. Depending on how much he beats the roll by, he may be able to identify what rituals in particular are effected. If he beats the target by 1-2 he definitively locates one such error. If he beats it by 3-4 he locates two such errors. If he beats it by 5 or more, he locates all of them. 

Problematic Rituals (d20)

1-4    Useless: When the conjurer goes through with the ritual, nothing happens. He feels like a fool.

5-8    More Difficult: The ritual functions, but helpful details have been omitted, irrelevant steps have been inserted, etc. The conjurer's saving throw suffers -2 in addition to other modifiers.

9-11   Much More Difficult: The ritual functions but contains drastic errors. The conjurer's saving throw suffers a -4 in addition to other modifiers.

12-14  Doomed to Failure: An essential step has been corrupted. The ritual functions but is automatically an obvious failure. 

15-17  That's Not What I Expected: The ritual works, but it summons something different hailing from the same region as the intended entity. The conjurer will have no idea how to bind or deal with this entity, and so his soul and body will be mortal danger. I provide some suggestions for such summoned creatures below. 

18       You Will Never Be the Same: Instead of summoning, the ritual briefly bends reality out of joint. During this time the conjurer's mind opens to visions from the plurality of worlds, and even beyond space and time. As a result, he is forever changed. Roll d4: (1) During his wanderings, the conjurer has become the carrier of a contagion that opens ones mind to the hateful alien intelligences that lurk in the interstices between worlds. The contagion is spread through the sharing of thoughts and emotions. The plague will follow him wherever he breaks bread or engages in earnest conversation. (2) During his sojourn among the many worlds, a terrible wisdom overwhelms his mind. As a result of this dark enlightenment, a baleful golden eye blossoms in his forehead. When the conjurer wishes to draw on this wisdom, he may open this eye. When the eye is revealed, everyone within 100' must save vs. death, including the conjurer. If he survives, he will receive the answer he seeks. (3) The mystical energies surge through the conjurer's body, perverting its natural purposes, leaving no cell or organ untouched. Roll once on  this transmutation table, or three times on this classic chart. (4) The conjurer is forever marked by what he has seen. Other wizards can see the abominations that press in on him, incessantly whispering in his ear, and recognize him for a dangerous, demon touched, fool. His manner becomes distracted, and his ideas increasingly strange. 

19     Opens the Way: As the ritual is completed, the fabric of reality rends. Blood runs from the conjurer's ears, and a searing light blinds his eyes. When his senses return, he can see (from one side only), what looks like a tear in reality, through which an alien landscape can be seen. This is a permanent two way gate to the place from which the conjuror was trying to summon a creature. At some point, entities will begin coming through. The players can also use it to travel in the opposite direction. This result should be a campaign changer, unless the conjurer can find a way to seal the rift he has opened.

20       Total Disaster: Nothing is summoned, but performing the ritual makes something truly terrible happens. Roll 1d4: (1) The conjurer becomes ground zero for some kind of radioactive, mutagenic, blight on reality. The end result is a sort of forbidden zone in which the rules of reality are bent and travel is toxic. The conjurer remains at the heart of the zone, as a bloated living manifestation of its corruption and disorientation. (His character is removed from play.) I would use this as inspiration for fleshing it out. (2) Raw magical forces flow, unchecked, through the space of the ritual. The conjurer must attempt to contain them or be destroyed. He must make a save vs. magic at -5. If he makes it, he is able to suppress the energies, containing them within his own form. He must now release the eldritch energies once per day as a kaleidoscopic bolt of shimmering energy, as per the lightning bolt spell, or explode. If he fails the save, his body is turned inside out and his organs are scattered about. These now function as unstable reservoirs of pure magical power. They may be harnessed for summoning and various other purposes alchemical purposes. (3) Roll once on +Logan Knight's That Which Should Not Be chart. (4) As the ritual is completed, a seemingly infinite series of doorways open, staggered and overlapping, as in a futurist painting. Before they close, d12 entities come through (you may simply use 1 of each creature from That's Note What I Expected below). They promptly engage in a cosmic battle royale, with one another and the conjurer.

That's Not What I Expected

Here are some suggested entities from the regions dealt with in the Book of Six Circles. Alternatively, the DM may use one of the "Special Forms" from the LOTFP Summon spell contained in the Grindhouse Edition, which can be downloaded here free. If the DM is feeling cruel, he could even generate a table using one of the "lesser" demons from the end of the Book of Ebon Bindings.  

From The Moon

Delano-Laramie

Slaver Squid 6 HD AC2 Move: 12' Attk: Tentacle/Tentacle/Tentacle d10/d10/d10 or inflict pain. Slaver Squids are cephalopods whose skin is colored like the starry night's sky. They have a mind that cuts like razors. Every other round, everyone in 100' must save vs. magic or take 3d6 damage and suffer paralysis for d4 rounds from the waves of agony that roll from them. Once per day they can also eject an inky darkness as per the spell. They work tirelessly to build an army of slaves from the many worlds, using them to erect a pearly ziggurat as a great memorial to their dead god. The Slaver Squid will try to enslave the PC and anyone else present and take them to the Ziggurat. [P.S. If you ever need lunar inspiration, see this fantastic series from Worlds of Ix. these encounter tables from Aons & Auguries are good too.]

From The Sightless Labyrinth

Stillenacht

Still Prelate HD7 AC2 Move: 12' Attk: By spell. Once per day: Darkness (x2), Cause Fear, Silence 15' Radius, Hold Person, Blindness (x2), Dispel Magic, Insect Plague, and Monster Summoning II (summons 1d6 Compass Worms). Still Prelates are gaunt figures. In the place of a face, a dense manuscript is set, supported by an elaborate iron cage drilled into their skull. They are silent and malicious figures, who revel in pain and suffering. When they cast spells, their manuscript flips open to the relevant page, and the runes inscribed thereupon glow green. They are able to command Compass Worms and other creatures from the Sightless Labyrinth. If summoned, they will attempt to take the conjurer back to their home, or, failing that, maim and disfigure him. Nothing is known about these strange figures. Perhaps they are spiritual leaders of the religion that prevails in the non-euclidean corridors of the Sightless Labyrinth; perhaps they are manifestations of the maze's hatred for life; or perhaps they are what remains of those who were banished there from the earth in earlier times, when men still knew how to open the ways to many worlds. Should they be slain, the manuscript may be extracted from their head. It contains the spells listed above, plus the ritual that binds Compass Worms. However, to consult this text, one risks madness. (I would use the rules on reading grimoires from Realms of Crawling Chaos.) 

From a Black Pyramid Turning in Space 

David Trampier

Cerebral Malice HD6 AC4 Mv 18' Attk: Claw/Claw + Special 1d8+3/1d8+3. These creatures are great hunters, able to follow the psychic signature of an individual who has passed through any terrain up to one week. Their hunger is great, and they receive their sustenance by absorbing the brain matter and psyches of intelligent creatures. When they do so, for d6 hours take on the voice and mannerisms of the one consumed. They otherwise not known to speak. Their method of attack is most disconcerting. In addition to their vicious claws, they are able to dominate the minds of men. Once per round, they may attempt to seize control of a victim who must save vs. magic at -2. If dominated, the individual will follow their every command. They can control up to four victims at once.

From the Unbidden Shores

Vothak HD8 AC1 Mv20' Attack: Claw/Claw/Claw/Claw/Bite d8/d8/d8/d8/d12 + Swallow whole. These pale, leathery horror hail from the lush white bowers of the Dangling Jungle. The offspring of Martian nightmares, they are well suited to their inverted home. Their sucker covered feat allow them to climb any surface, and they are comfortable in any orientation. They move with a brutal speed, and attack with four razor sharp claws. Most terrible of all is the bite of their massive maw, filled with needle like teeth. If a Vothak hits with a bite attack by 4 more than needed, he may swallow whole a creature of man sized or smaller. The harsh stomach acids of this fiend will do 3d12 damage per round, automatically. From within the stomach, one may only attack with medium sized weapons (longswords and smaller), but one need not roll to hit.

An Example

While adventuring in the Shattered Isles, Rackvim the Whisperer recovers a late edition of the Book of the Six Circles. The DM wishes to determine whether the manuscript has textual corruptions. For Step 1, he consults his notes and sees that such editions are usually riddled with errors, and have a 75% chance of containing textual corruptions. He rolls under this with a 55. He proceeds to Step 2, rolling a d4 for the number of rituals affected, and gets 3. The book contains six rituals, and so for Step 3 he shuffles an Ace, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 of diamonds into a pile. From this pile he draws an Ace, 4 and 6 corresponding to the rituals of the First, Fourth and Sixth Circles. These are the affected rituals. For Step 4, the DM rolls a d20 once for each ritual affected to see what kind of corruptions they have, rolling a 15, 6 and a 1. Consulting the table, he sees that the First Circle is Not What You Expected, the Third Circle is More Difficult (-2) to perform, and the Sixth Circle is Useless. The DM now rolls to see if Rackvim notices that anything is wrong. Rackvim is a smart cookie with an intelligence modifier of +2. He is also a fifth level wizard. Luckily, he also possesses a decent library with some other lesser texts on summoning. His target number for detecting the corruptions is: 20-(2 for int+3 for level+2 for related texts)=13. He rolls a lucky 16! Having succeeded by 3, he is able to identify 2 of the corruptions. The DM dices randomly to see which ones and rolls the Fourth and the Sixth Circles. The DM tells the player that once Rackvim digs into the manuscript, the text seems fishy to him in spots. In particular, Rackvim is pretty sure there are textual corruptions of some kind in the Rituals of the Fourth and Sixth Circles. The DM indicates to the player that there may or may not be further problems in other spots, Rackvim's not sure. The player is keen to perform the Ritual of the First Circle to bind Lunar Spawn and decides to proceed despite the uncertainty. Looking at the suggestions for That's Not What I Expected above, the DM chuckles: Rackvim will be in for a nasty surprise when he performs the ritual and ends up summoning a Slaver Squid! 

The Fourth Circle

[This is the second post describing the rituals contained in the Book of Six Circles. For an introduction to the book and the first three rituals click here. For my manifesto concerning summoning here.]

The Fourth Circle:

Threnody Crows

Illustration by Kora

Although it is found on no map, there is a land that borders all the waking worlds. It goes by diverse names: The Half-Remembered Kingdoms, Juxtaposition, The Unbidden Shores, Wishery, and countless others in tongues no man has ever heard. Within its perplexing and shifting geography, there are some places more than others where nightmares roost. The sand strewn isles of the Sea of Palimpsests is such a place. It is here that one may find the Threnody Crows that the Fourth Circle binds.

Threnody Crows are beautiful in the wrong way, with pearly white eyes, feathers black as midnight velvet, and the head of a crow. They wear rotting finery, and carry ornate instruments, usually stringed. They are great singers, for they have as many mouths as hopes they have betrayed, and their every note is thus a harmony. They are themselves formidable sorcerers, weaving great illusions through their dark threnodies that maze the minds of men and give substance to our nightmares. They are wise but fickle, and could never be bound, except that they rejoice in the novel sights of the waking worlds, and in sewing destruction and misery.

To perform the ritual of the Fourth Circle, the conjurer must inscribe the circle with the quill of a peacock strangled in his sleep. Within the circle he must place an assistant or bound captive, and induce in him a magical slumber. He must then light blue lotus incense and intone the proper evocations. When the smells and sounds enter the dreams of the slumberer, the Threnody Crow will hear the invitation. He will climb up through the slumberer and step into the circle. In a multitude of voices, he will first insist that he will serve only if freed from its confines. The conjurer must on no account agree to this, but he must have a counter proposal ready. Threnody Crows care nothing for wealth, power, or bound sacrifices. Instead, they wish to taste the wonders and vivid experiences of the waking world. The conjurer must thus present him with a truly wondrous gift from the waking world. The object need not have any value, although truly wondrous things usually do. If he is satisfied, he will accept service. But even then conjurer must be careful not to overuse him, or summon him for dull and boring tasks. 

Mechanics: The minimum required level to perform this ritual is 13. To perform the ritual, the player of the conjurer must roll a saving throw against magic with his eyes shut. The base modifier for the save is -2. Before making the roll, the DM should appraise the wonder of the gift on offer and adjust the saving throw accordingly. If it is utterly insufficient (e.g. a magical sword that glows in the dark) then the saving throw is automatically an obvious failure. If it is only somewhat wondrous (e.g. a jar of pink salt distilled from the tears of pixies), he should apply a penalty from -1 to -4. If it is superlatively amazing (e.g. an actual city shrunk to fit in a hollowed pearl), then he may apply a bonus from +1 to +4 as he sees fit.

Success: The conjurer may now summon one Threnody Crow with Monster Summoning IV. Threnody Crow HD6 AC5 Move:12” Attack: by spell. The Threnody Crow may cast at will: Invisibility, Darkness, Charm Person, Suggestion, Sleep, Improved Phantasmal Force, Confusion, and Fear. Once per day he may cast: Phantasmal Killer, Hallucinatory Terrain, Mass Suggestion, Mass Confusion. Note that the Threnody Crow who is bound is a particular individual. Should he be slain in combat, the ritual of the Fifth Circle must be performed again. Note also that he may only be safely summoned once per week. Should he summon the Crow more frequently, he risks (25%) angering the Threnody Crow. And woe to him should he summon the Crow within the borders of its native lands! 

Obvious Failure: If the player fails the saving throw by 5 or more, the Threnody Crow refuses the gift, and attempts to lure the conjurer within the circle. For example, he might express his contempt for the offering, and create the illusion that he is climbing back through the slumberer in disgust. Remaining invisible within the circle, he will then wait for the conjurer to enter to waken his assistant. Or he might reject the gift with disgust and use hallucinatory terrain to convince the conjurer that he has already transported him from the waking world to Juxtaposition as punishment, and then lure him into the circle with further illusions. Failing such ploys, he will simply use Mass Suggestion and demand the conjurer enter the circle, against which the conjurer must save at -2. If he succeeds, he will immediately whisk the conjurer away to the Half Remembered Kingdoms, depositing him in one of its slumbering hells. Roll d4 for location deposited: (1) The Dangling Forest: in an inverted white forest hanging from the underside of a jutting plateau, alien nightmares dreamt by the denizens of the Red Planet stalk their prey, (2) Isles on the Sea of Palimpsests: just below the surface of these haunted islands, there is another far more dreadful place that bleeds through, (3) In the labyrinthine back alleys of Zyan, the City of Porcelain Abattoirs, (4) The Canyons of Lost Souls: a series of seemingly endless connected grey slot canyons, with beetling smooth sides, and a dim and dreary light; there one should roll on this chart, for a start.

Subtle failure: After being offered the gift, the Threnody Crow seems dissatisfied and demands something dear to the conjurer in addition. If the player can't come up with something plausible quickly, the Crow will insist on an eye, or the thumb of his good hand. If the player refuses, the result will be an obvious failure as above. If he consents, the Crow will be bound as usual. However, within a month, the conjurer will have a disturbing and vivid nightmare. He will dream that he finds himself in a opulent but dilapidated hall. He stands within a magical circle composed of undulating wasps. From beneath a cowled hood, a multitude of voices chant a nightmarish incantation: "I bind you thrice. By the dim light of the Midnight Sun, I bind you. By the Black Mirror that shows no reflection, I bind you. By what you hold dear, willingly given, I bind you." The hooded figure will then pull slowly back the cowl and the laughter of a chorus of voices will echo in the hall as he raises the conjurer's additional gift. The conjurer will wake up in a cold sweat. Hereafter, he is bound to the service of the Threnody Crow in like manner. From time to time (say, every fourth session, perhaps in the middle of an adventure) he will find himself summoned to the Unbidden Shores and forced to serve the Crow as though summoned by a 13th level wizard. Should he try to extricate himself by summoning the Crow and trying to kill him, or intentionally put him in harm's way, the Crow will retaliate in kind. On no account will the Crow release him from service voluntarily. (This will provide the opportunity for the DM to insert delicious vignettes from the dream world into the game at his pleasure. It will also present serious challenges for resource management as the wizard suddenly vanishes and is returned 10 minutes later, drained of spells, seriously injured, etc.)

The Book of Six Circles

Original editions of the Book of Six Circles are bound in black leather. The cover is adorned with simple concentric circles in gold leaf, but is otherwise unmarked. The lettering within is elegant and distinctive, but not overwrought. The text is composed in a mix of ancient Ghinorian and Archival Script, the queer written symbolism of the Archivists. Original editions also contain invisible runes, crucial to the rituals of each circle, in the margins of the text. These appear only in the light cast by a candle fashioned from corpse tallow. Such editions are not protected by wards, unless these were added at a later date. Most original editions are incomplete owing to the ravages of time, although a few complete editions do exist. Later editions tend to be showier affairs, with illuminations and flourishes abounding. In these editions, Archival Script has been replaced by Ghinorian, and the invisible runes in the margin appear as a normal part of the body of the text. Such later editions often contain textual corruptions and dubious emendations (75%), as well as fierce magical wards (50%).

The Book of the Six Circles was compiled at the dawn of the age of the Sorcerer Lords by Virdalon, Master of Effulgent Prisms. Some of the rituals (certainly the Second and Sixth Circles, perhaps others) are drawn from ancient sources, now lost, that predate the First War of the Archivists. Virdalon seems to have been a scribe, a member of the order descended from the human servitors of the Archivists. Some elements (the Third Circle) are likely drawn from the potent and alien magic found in Archival sources. Finally, Virdalon no doubt had access to contemporary works, reflecting the innovations that were beginning to blossom during his time. The result of his compilation of these diverse sources is an arresting and unsettling medley. At the zenith of the Sorcerer Lords, the Book of The Six Circles was widely circulated. Owing to its popularity, it weathered the fall of the Sorcerer Lords. Although rare, a number of copies have passed into the libraries of the conjurers and demonologists of the present day. Presumably, others lie still undiscovered in the moldering tombs and rotting libraries of the Sorcerer Lords scattered among the Shattered Isles. What follows is a brief description of the rituals contained in a complete, original edition of this book. (For  my general approach to summoning, of which this is an example, see here.)

The First Circle:
Lunar Spawn

Gary Chalk

To the human eye, Lunar Spawn appear as billowing, incandescent clouds, coalescing momentarily into membranous wings and cerebral appendages. To the ear, the beating of their wings is the cracking of frozen panes of glass, their cry the chiming of bells. They bring with them the cold of empty voids, and the desolation of crystalline spires, rising without life or purpose from blasted lunar expanses into a perpetually black sky. They care little about the ways of man, although they are drawn like moths to the warmth of our life force and the integrity of our psyches. Unfortunately, the brush of their wings and the touch of their dangling appendages are deadly to the human psyche. It is largely owing to this that their service is valued. They also serve as potents guides should a conjurer know one of the hidden paths to the moon. 

Of all the entities discussed in the Book of the Six Circles, Lunar Spawn are the least difficult to bind. By the light of a waxing gibbous moon, the conjurer must paint an intricate circle of runes, using a blue pigment mixed with crushed chrysophate and tourmaline (200gp). He must prepare in advance a large, flawless fire opal (500gp). The evocator must cast a light spell on the eye of the fire opal. This will cause a strange pulsating light to shine forth from within the stone. He must then intone the Song of the Opening of Voids (contained in the text). The conjurer should be prepared, for when the void opens inside the circle, the temperature will drop in a single instant by 50 degrees or more. The lunar landscape will then be visible, as though glimpsed through a distorted mirror. His spirit will be drawn towards the void, but he must instead hold himself firmly to the things of this world and raise the pulsating fire opal up to the rift. The light shining from its eye will draw down Lunar Spawn. Once they have passed through the rift into the circle, they will become disoriented and frightened. It is then that the syllables of shackling must be repeated in rapid succession. As the syllables are intoned, they will become calm. When the syllables are finished, the Spawn will return through the rift, and henceforth be bound to the will of the conjurer as long as he holds the fire opal on his person. 

Mechanics: The minimum level for performing this level is 5. To perform the ritual, the player must make a saving throw vs. magic with his eyes shut. Given the ease of the ritual, the summoner receives +4 to this roll. This bonus can be increased by a further +2 if he has deciphered the Lunar Epiphany contained the third Puzzle Scroll. He may further increase the chance of success if he employs rare and exquisite crystals in the composition of the pigment with which the circle is painted (+1 for each 100 additional gp, up to +4). If, however, he has ever been to the moon, the temptations for his spirit to enter the rift will be overwhelming, and he will suffer a -4 on his save, effectively canceling the bonus for the ease of the ritual.

Success: If the saving throw succeeds, the sorcerer will henceforth be able to summon 2d4 Lunar Spawn by casting Monster Summoning I while holding the fire opal. HD1+1 AC6 Mv15" Att: Painful Touch 1d6 + a -1 on all rolls for 24 hours. These penalties are cumulative.  [Note that if Lunar Spawn are summoned on the moon, the spell has no duration. The Lunar Spawn will serve the conjurer until his departure or their death.]

Obvious failure: If the conjurer fails by 5 or more, then his spirit has been drawn through the rift and lost to wander the icy wastes of the moon forever. What is left behind is a mindless husk.

Subtle failure: If the conjurer has failed by 4 or less, the Lunar Spawn have been bound and the ritual seems to be a success. However, a crystal structure has begun to grow in the summoner’s brain, feeding on his vitality and life force. For each level gained, subtract 1 point from his constitution. At 0 con the summoner dies and becomes a crystal moon lich. The process is irreversible, and once underway, the summoner cannot increase his constitution through any means. The process does, however, come with some boons. At the 3rd penalty small crystal knobs protrude from the sorcerer’s skull and he may now use tenser’s floating disk once per day. At the 5th penalty these knobs have become small horns and he may cast levitation once per day. At the 7th penalty, they appear as the crystalline horns of a stag. The summoner can then draw on the psychic energy they store to create a wall of force. At the 10th penalty the horns have fused together into an enormous twisted crown, towering like a papal hat over his perpetually bent head. The summoner may now employ them to cast power word stun once per day. At 15th level, the weighty crystalline boughs sprouting from the summoner’s head must be supported by artificial means. He may now cast power word kill once per day. May it serve him well in his final days!

The Second Circle:

Compass Worms

Compass Worms are five feet in length. Their otherwise featureless head ends in a maw ringed by sharp teeth. They are filled with a hatred of sapient life and an uncontrollable lust for blood. They have an unerring sense of direction, and potent alien senses that allow the worm to “see” in darkness, and detect invisible or hidden creatures. Compass Worms dwell in a place the Book of Six Circles refers to as “The Sightless Labyrinth”.  Although the text is vague, it seems to be a place of claustrophobic darkness, in which cramped and twisting passages are laid out in a non-euclidean geometry. Various sources indicate that The Jade Litany contained a lengthy discussion of the Sightless Labyrinth and its queer denizens, along with the other black hells it notoriously treats, but it is now lost. Compass Worms are valued for their frightful force as guardians, and also by all those sorcerers who have reason to tread in twisting labyrinths or the dark places beneath the earth. 

To summon the Compass Worms, the conjurer must prepare in advance an ornate kris knife (500gp), and have a ready source of fire. He must then trace an intricate labyrinth in powdered blood and rust within a circle of runes. He then chants formulae that cause the labyrinth to lift from within the circle, unfolding before his eye in numerous dimensions. Using the kris knife, he must then spill the steaming life’s blood of a sapient being into a copper bowl, and place this bowl at the edge of the labyrinth. The worms will be drawn out of the labyrinth by the smell of fresh blood. As they approach, the sorcerer must heat the kris knife in the fire until it glows red. Once the first worms have emerged, the decisive moment in the ritual comes. The sorcerer must then move quickly to burn the first worm to approach the bowl with the red hot kris knife while intoning the words of command. If all goes well, the worms will then prostrate themselves before him and await permission to drink from the bowl. Once the sorcerer has given permission, and they have drunk, their will is bound to him forevermore. Should things go awry, the sorcerer is advised to protect himself against the rage of the worms by swiftly making the Mark of Vesh. This mark can only be learned in the Hall of Ivory Arches accessible through the third evocation from Evocations of the Doomed City.

Mechanics: The minimum level to perform this ritual is 7. The conjurer must roll a save vs. magic with his eyes shut to bind the worms. This save is at +0 initially. The conjurer may improve his chances by appealing to the hateful hunger of the worms by providing additional sacrificial victims. These must be intelligent creatures, bound defenseless near the bowl of blood. The summoner receives +1 for every two HD of bound sacrifice, up to a bonus of +4. Were The Jade Litany ever to be found, the summoner would receive +4 to his save by consulting the sections within on the Sightless Labyrinth.

Success: If the saving throw succeeds, the sorcerer will forevermore be able to summon 1d6 Compass Worms using Monster Summoning II. HD3+1 AC6 MV12" Att: Bite 2d4+1 Special: As soon as any of the worms tastes blood (does damage), they all enter a wild, thrashing frenzy, receiving an additional attack per round. They can see even in magical darkness, and detect invisible and ethereal creatures. They cannot be surprised.

Obvious Failure: If the conjurer fails his saving throw by 5 or more, 3d6 worms burst from the labyrinth in a blood frenzy. They attempt to slaughter all intelligent beings in the area. Should the conqueror make the Mark of Vesh and advance fearlessly towards them, the worms will cower in fear and be driven back into the labyrinth.

Subtle Failure: If the conjurer fails his saving throw by 4 or less, everything seems to have gone well, but the summoner has only a weak hold on the worms. With each summoning, there is a cumulative 1% chance that the worms will turn on the caster. When this result is rolled, treat it is as an obvious failure above. Once this has happened, it will happen every time the caster attempts to summon a Compass Worm.

The Third Circle:

Quiet Ones

A very obvious failure
(Russ Nicholson)

The Quiet Ones appear on our plane as long tangles of segmented legs and joints, ending in wicked hooks. They enter our reality by unfolding their twisted limbs and pulling themselves rapidly from the mouth of the summoner. Their name is doubly earned. For they move, strike and die utterly without sound. But their hooks are also covered in potent venom that is at once excruciating and simultaneously renders the victim silent as though subject to a silence spell. Their psychology is strange. At times, Quiet Ones seem to delight in rending flesh, although at other times they are stubbornly impassive, and move into battle only with goading. Owing to their superficial similarity to the Tessellated Carvers of the Archivists, some have speculated that Quiet Ones are one of their servitor races. What silent realm of agony they hail from is not known. They are favored by all those who seek to kill their enemies in silence, and are often mastered by those searching for a potent weapon to employ in a duel against other sorcerers. 

The ritual is exhausting and difficult. The evocator’s own body is to serve as the gateway and anchor for the Quiet Ones to enter and remain in this world. He must thus undergo rigorous preparations for the ritual, fasting for a full week, and clearing his mind through long meditations focusing on the bleak image of a black pyramid turning in space before a dying red star. The day of the ritual he must evacuate himself of all wastes, enter purifying bathes, and shave all the hair from his body. This last is important, since his skin is to serve as the medium on which the third circle is to be inscribed. These alien and intricate runes must be tattooed or burned into his flesh precisely by a master of the relevant craft. This is time consuming and painful. When the runes have been inscribed, the conjurer must begin the ritual immediately. He must repeat the magical formulae in a queer sing-song. As his body and mind open to the Quiet Ones, the moment of peril comes. For the process of becoming their gateway is unpleasant and wrenching, and they will attempt to overwhelm and colonize his mind and body. If he allows this to occur, it will spell his certain doom. If all goes well, the evocator will force the Quiet Ones from his mind and expel them from his body orally. Once they have been expelled, they will be bound to his service, much to their chagrin.        

Mechanics: The minimum level for successfully performing this ritual is 9. To perform the ritual, the player must make a saving throw vs. magic with his eyes shut. The base saving throw is -4, owing to the difficulty of the ritual. However, there are additional preparations that may tip the scales in the conjuror’s favor. If he studies the art of meditation for 1 month under an Agent of the Black Lotus, or a a high level monk, then he will receive a +2 bonus for the ritual. Should he have laid eyes upon the Lost City of the Archivists, and seen the runes inscribed on the obsidian gates that lie within, he will find himself with an intuitive grasp of the ritual that negates its difficulty (+4). (The book itself only vaguely indicates that this last is true.)

Success: The conjurer may now vomit forth 1d4 Quiet Ones with a Monster Summoning III spell. HD4+1 AC5 Mv15" Att: Claw/Claw/Claw 1d6 + save vs. poison or take 1d6 additional damage and be rendered silent for 1-4 turns. Special: owing to their unnerving silence, they are at +2 to surprise.

Obvious Failure: If the conjurer fails by 5 or more, his mind and body have been overwhelmed by the Quiet Ones. He must immediately make a save versus death -4. If he fails, Quiet Ones indeed arrive through his body—but not his mouth. He dies as their limbs burst from his torso and head. If he passes the save, they have only colonized his mind. His personality is now suppressed, and they will feign normalcy and proceed to use his person to commit foul acts of murder and savagery, especially against companions and loved ones. It is possible to expel his colonizers with an exorcism, provided someone with the requisite knowledge and fortitude can be found.

Subtle Failure: If the conjurer fails by 4 or less, the Quiet Ones appeared to have been successfully bound. In reality, they have acquired a slender hold on the conjuror’s mind and body, and are biding their time. Every time Quiet Ones are summoned, this hold grows stronger. Their goal is to turn the conjuror’s body into an open gateway for their kind. The 5^th time they are summoned, and every time thereafter, the DM should roll a secret saving throw vs. magic for the conjurer. When he fails, the conjurer will vomit the Quiet Ones up—but will not stop. The second round, it will be as if the spell is cast again. On the second round, and every round thereafter, the caster gets a new saving throw vs. magic at a cumulative -2. Another failure indicates that more are arriving on the following round. If the cumulative penalty eventually makes it impossible to succeed at the saving throw, the caster has become an open portal and they will stream out for a full 24 hours, when the caster will expire from the strain. Quiet Ones who arrive in this manner are not under the conjuror’s control. They will seek to destroy all present, including the conjuror’s allies. If the conjurer should recover, they will attempt to destroy him as well. Should the conjurer survive, and be foolhardy enough to summon the Quiet Ones again, the result will be an obvious failure.

The Other Circles

may be found here:

The Fourth Circle

The Fifth Circle

The Sixth Circle

Summoning

Liz Danforth

Summoning demons and alien entities should be thrilling and perilous. If you’re playing a wizard, this should be the most mind-blowing thing you can do. Summoning presents an opportunity for players to probe the hidden black places of the world, dimly glimpsed by human knowledge. It involves forbidden secrets, passed on in manuscripts with evocative names, and histories of their own. It is an opportunity to contact and, just maybe, bend to your will the bleak alien entities that sometimes involve themselves with human affairs, to mankind’s detriment. At its best, it’s one natural avenue through which players can choose to become involved with the wonder, history, and terror of the campaign world.

So, with great hopes we turn to D&D. What do we find? Both OD&D and AD&D contain a series of spells called “Monster Summoning (I-VI)”. They are boring and aesthetically repugnant. You roll on a generic chart and call up some generic animal or humanoid that fights for you for a few rounds. At high levels, you might accidentally summon a demon if you’re evil. The spell is one of the great missed opportunities of game design. It is a total failure. (The 3.5 version is, if anything, even worse. At first level, you can summon a “celestial owl” for one 6 second round. Shoot me.)

In my game, I've decided to keep the Monster Summoning spells, one for each level from third to ninth (i.e. I-VI), just as they are in OD&D (Supplement I) and AD&D. But the monster summoning spells, although working otherwise as indicated, only summon a creature (or creatures) that you have previously bound through a ritual. The more terrible the entity, the higher the level of Monster Summoning required to summon it. So we can keep our Monster Summoning spells and lose the generic or random blandness. All the setting specific terror and wonder gets put in the entities and the rituals that bind them. These rituals are found in a small number of related manuscripts that each have a history, and are not easy to come by.

Suppose a player gets his hands on one of these manuscripts, how to capture the peril of performing the rituals? Raggi’s Summonings spell has some really excellent rules here, but they’re too complicated for my tastes, and are also overly generic. Here’s my hack of this part of his spell. When a wizard performs a ritual, his player must roll a saving throw vs. magic, subject to modifiers, depending on the difficulty of the ritual, and on the preparations he has made. For some rituals, bonuses can be gained by procuring rare materials, or consulting related texts, or in having undergone certain experiences, or by sweetening the deal with a surfeit of sacrifices. Here’s my favorite bit. The player must make this saving throw roll with his eyes shut. If he fails by 1-4 this is a subtle failure. The ritual will seem to work, and he won't know until the first, or maybe the tenth time he calls the things forth that something has gone wrong, or perhaps not until he rises in a level, or a set span of time passes. If he fails by 5 or more, this is an obvious failure. Terrible things are happening, right now.  

On this approach, one introduces summoning by introducing a manuscript. One will need to think about the appearance and properties of the manuscript, and about its history. (Who is the author? When was it written? How has it come down through the ages?) The book will contain, possibly among other things, a set of rituals. The information required for each ritual the DM wishes to present is the following. (1) A description of the entity to be summoned, (2) a description of the ritual summoning it, (3) the minimum level for successfully performing the ritual, usually the level required to cast the corresponding Monster Summoning spell, (4) the base saving throw modifier representing the difficulty of the ritual, (5) a list of bonuses for specific preparations, (6) the descriptions of three results: success, subtle failure, and obvious failure.

Here is the list of known major manuscripts dealing with summoning in Ruined Ghinor. Between them they contain perhaps three-dozen rituals binding demons and alien entities. (No doubt there are many other lesser manuscripts.) The extant major works are the following:

The Book of Six Circles

Evocations of the Doomed City

The Puzzle Scrolls [third and sixth]

Through the Gates of Horn 

Hidden Diagrams of Urkash-Mor

Within the Brass Sepulchre

The following are crucial lost works often referred to and relied upon by in existing manuscripts:

The Jade Litany

Koreshi’s Opulent Verses 

The Puzzle Scrolls [First, second, fourth and fifth]

In my next few posts, I will present the first of the extant works from the first list: The Book of The Six Circles. [Mostly now done, click the link to see.] My intention is to eventually post all six of the extant works. A DM can then plop all of them down in her campaign world with some inevitable hacks. Or she can select from them piecemeal. Summoning will be a lot more interesting. 

The Festival of the Sybarites

The Festival of the Sybarites is the high holiday of the Ulimite Church in Rastingdrung. It is a festival of excess and social inversion that is notorious throughout Ghinor. In the days leading up to the festival, security in Rastingdrung is even tighter than usual. Unless a visitor is lucky enough to carry a personal invitation from the Chatelaine, he may only enter through the city gates by buying festival tickets at an exorbitant price (50gp). All weapons, armor, religious symbols, and written materials must be checked for the duration of the visit.

The festival begins at dusk of the first day with the Parade of the Blasphemers. This joyful procession includes a rare display of the renowned wooden icons of the Ulimite Saints. The icons depict the saints' gruesome martyrdom for their pioneering research into extreme and unknown pleasures in the days when the Church was still a persecuted sect. They are accompanied by large and cunningly constructed puppets, usually satirical and jesting--mockeries of the Scarlet Censors and the Voluptuaries are especially popular. The center of the parade is traditionally occupied by an enormous float (literally a sailing vessel on wheels) of the Bishop, the giant fish of Lake Wooling who is the subject of many tall tales. Beginning on the steps of the Church, the procession winds its way through the city quarters, spilling out of the gates to finally arrive at the docks as darkness falls. The procession ends with the launching of the Bishop into the waters of Lake Wooling. The revelers are greeted there by fishing and merchant vessels, and specially constructed pleasure barges, all bedecked with colorful lanterns. Skiffs ferry citizens through the oily silver waters out to the celebrations on the lake which last until the small hours of the morning.

Once revelers have shaken off their drunken sleep, the festivities continue on the following day. The doors of the Church are then thrown open, and citizens may cash in their festival counters for free use of Church prostitutes. Throughout the day, children are encouraged to commit pranks on parents and authorities. Each Scarlet Censor must run the gamut once, sprinting a route from the doors of the Church to one of the city's gates at an unannounced time of his choosing. Children lie patiently in wait in upper storied windows with long curved hooks; should they snag the hat of a Censor from above, then they win the right to subject him to humiliating punishments in front of jeering crowds. (It is said that only the desperate preparations for this event keep the Censors from becoming corpulent through their excess.) The second day's festivities culminates with Sprig's Feast. This feast is funded by the Church, and held in the normally forbidden Greensward of the Chatelaine's pleasure grounds. At long tables, citizens and visitors eat heaping plates of hearty fare from continually replenished buffets, and become drunk on honey mead and fermented sugar cane, as troubadours play bawdy songs, and the cheaper sort of Church prostitutes dance for entertainment.

It is said with some reason that there are really two Festivals of the Sybarites. For the Chatelaine arranges special and remarkable amusements for those holding her personal invitation. In the past, her guests have wagered as beautiful slaves, their faces smeared with goose fat, bob for golden apples in piranha filled tanks. This year, rumor has it, she has purchased an unusual number of halfling slaves. These unfortunates have been fitted with elastic suits, and are to be force fed tureens of rich sea-slug and butter sauce. Their flatulence will expand the suit like a ball, enabling her guests to roll them down the bluffs to the Yex river below, where they will be burst like balloons by the starved crocodiles released for this gratifying event.

Frederick Richardson

The Chatelaine's special feast is held away from the commoners in shady bowers. Lit by enchanted lanterns, the diners enjoy a delicate repast. The menu is never the same twice, and the stakes are high for the Chatelaine's new head cook after last year's debacle with sour mermaid sushi. (The old cook still resides in the Silent Halls, a guest of the Scarlet Censors for as long as his constitution holds.) This year, many dishes will be flavored by a savory pink salt distilled from the tears of pixies, as well as hips from the rare ebon rose. Once the meal is finished, the special guests are treated to a private service by the High Voluptuary. After intoning a brief prayer, he feeds them the eucharist of Ulim, a queer alchemical paste glowing with euphoric properties. After partaking, the most beautiful and refined church prostitutes flee through the hidden groves and secret stands of the Chatelaine's pleasure gardens, with the guests following in close pursuit.

A church prostitute in melancholy repose as the Eucharist of Ulim finally fades
(Michael Hutter)

The final day of the Festival of the Sybarites begins in late morning with games and contests. Prizes are handed out for feats of strength and agility, and jongleurs and acrobats abound. The final event is the Trial of the Apprentices. There the Chatelaine's seven apprentices display their diverse talents, summoning bleak entities within a ring of flaming symbols, or spinning worlds of phantasms and colored shadows from the light refracted through a single glistening tear. Their competition has real stakes, for the winner receives the status of First Apprentice with all its perks throughout the upcoming year. Dismal failures are punished by exile. Needless to say, scheming abounds, and many an apprentice has been surprised to find that his carefully laid preparations have been ruined through last minute subterfuge. After the Trial of the Apprentices is over, the High Voluptuary arises and says the blessing of Ulim over the masses. Then, the Festival of the Sybarites has come to an end, and Rastingdrungers return to their dreary and oppressive routine. Until next year.

Michael Hutter

Three Ways to Breath Underwater in Ruined Ghinor

Blue Algae Tins

These small metal tins are engraved with symbols in the strange language of the Archivists. When the two halves of the tin are twisted open, there is a loud hiss, and a quivering blue jelly is revealed. One smears this substance on a patch of open skin. As soon as a sufficient quantity has been applied, the algae spreads rapidly to cover the body. Within minutes the user's skin acquires a gelid and translucent appearance. At this point he is able to breath water, although to do so he must first expel the air from her lungs. Should he not enter the water, within 15 minutes his skin will begin to painfully dry, erupting in cracked shingles that weep a blue ichor (2d6 damage). A tin contains five doses. Each dose lasts for about an hour and a half. These tins are exceedingly rare, and are only found in the forgotten ruins of the Archivists.

The Discipline of Still Breath

The Black Lotus is a secret monastic order that serves the Invincible Overlord as spies, assassins and agents-provocateur. Through rigorous and esoteric training, agents of the Black Lotus acquire mastery of mind over body. The most talented advance to the arts of the third mystery. Among these potent powers is the discipline of still breath through which the agent is able to suspend his respiration for up to one hour per day. Although taxing, shorter periods are not debilitating. However, the full hour stretches the agent to the breaking point. Afterwards he must fall into a deep coma for six hours, during which time his body replenishes itself.

The Lung Eels of the Sorcerer Lords 

(+Judd Karlman is the original source of this idea)

The most hideous of the methods is without a doubt the cultivation of the parasitic lung eel. Devised by the sorcerer lords, this hideous species enters the user's mouth as a larva no larger than the fingernail of child. A week later it has grown to a length of three feet, nesting curled inside the user's lungs. At this time the user acquires an unnatural vigor (+1 hp per HD) and the ability to breath water for up to two hours a day. Unfortunately, at the start of the third week, the lung eel lays its eggs, which hatch rapidly, killing the user as they feast on the meat of his lungs. To remove the lung eel prior to this date, one must tempt it from the lungs by placing a hunk of rotting pork on a hook at the back of the gullet. The art of breeding lung eels is all but lost, known now only to a handful of wizards, including the Keeper of Corals in Wolsdag.