Magic, Madness, & Sadness Part VIII - Your Soul is MINE!

“Two minutes. Two centuries. It all ticks by so quickly. You are so like your ancestors, did you know that?” - Pinhead, Hellraiser: Bloodlines

        No one wants to die. Of all the schools of magic, none is more synonymous with the pursuit of immortality than necromancy. Keepers, Unmade, Conduits, Doll Makers, Fateless, Dreamers, and Beholders, are all ultimately inspired by the immortality which master necromancers can achieve with relative ease: the immortality of the Lich.

        Surrounding themselves with dusty tomes, undead minions, and the ghastly ingredients of their arts, necromancers are fearful figures who seemingly embody the worst excesses of spellcasters. While nearly all wizards are capable of wreaking terrible destruction or misery, the personally deadly and often disturbing nature of a necromancer’s spells marks them out as especially repugnant in the eyes of most. Any potential positive applications of the school are forgotten the moment someone sees a loved one’s corpse rise from their grave. Barely tolerated by most societies, necromancers have been given suitably grim appellations such as Deathless, or Reapers.

        The existence of liches has been attested to as long as necromancy itself. Indeed, the very pursuit of the deathly arts may have began as an attempt to achieve immortality. Unlike other schools, the ritual to achieve this transformation is relatively well known, even to those on other paths. The lich removes their soul from their body, placing it in a receptacle known as a soul-cage. Their body continues to age, but their trapped spirit never flees from the material plane to the afterlife. Even if their corporeal form were to be destroyed, their spirit endures, and forces their body to rise once again.

        Fools.

        The pathetic beings known as liches to scribes and commoners alike are those who did not truly have the stomach for what must be done. Who would want to spend an eternity as a slowly moldering corpse? These tyrants of death will accept nothing less than the full blush of life. To them, all life is reduced to mere kindling for the crucible of their souls. They are known as True Liches, The Greedy, or Hungry Ones.

“Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.” - Alphonse Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist

        As explained by the quote above, and honestly at least once a volume in the manga, magic in Fullmetal Alchemist runs on the principle of equivalent exchange. You get out what you put in. And while the comic often played fast and loose with the concept, one area where it never wavered is with regards to human transmutation. There is simply no way to bring someone back from the dead in the setting without giving up something massive in return, and even then, whatever comes back will be a horror show. The Elric Brothers lose their body and a bunch of limbs between them when they try to get back their mother, and their master Izumi’s organs were severely damaged by her attempt to resurrect her own child.

        Seemingly a way to subvert the law of equivalent exchange, the philosopher’s stone is in reality a horrific expression of (in)human selfishness and malice. A stone does have nearly boundless power, because it is made up of the condensed life energy of humans. The first philosopher’s stones in the setting known to us were created from the entire population of the country of Xerxes in a single night; hundreds of thousands of souls to grant immortality (and near limitless power for alchemical rituals) to two beings: The Dwarf in the Flask and Van Hoenheim. By the time the story of the manga begins, the creation of more philosopher’s stones has become the subject of a centuries-long conspiracy which underpins the very culture of Amestris, and the nature of alchemical theory itself. The Dwarf in the Flask has had centuries to both cover its tracks, and to embed operatives at the highest levels of the government. For all intents and purposes, he would be unassailable without the intervention of Hoenheim.

        Other, crude or flawed stones also exist. But they too are derived from the same sort of casual murder required for the greater stones. Equivalent Exchange is impossible to subvert. There is no way back through the door; the dead are death and the stone will never bring them back. Anyone who creates one is guilty of a sin so profound that it cannot possibly be truly washed away.

“Come on, get up! Attack me! You’ve only suffered the loss of your legs. Summon up your familiars! Transform your body! Heal your severed legs and stand! The evening is still so young!” - Alucard, Hellsing

        When one imagines the immortality of a lich, it is one of prolonged existence, not of youth or beauty. In a sense, upon becoming a lich the necromancer freezes what life force remains within them, occasionally reinforcing any gaps which form with their magic. A Hungry One takes a much different approach to the solution of their constantly depleting life force: they take it from other living beings. With these stolen lives, a True Lich can not only extend their lifespan indefinitely, they can also control their apparent age, heal themselves, interrogate the souls of those they have slain, or to resurrect themselves from all but the most dire of demises.

        The means to become a True Lich are distressingly simple to recreate; it is only the great costs, both personal and moral, that make these creatures mercifully rare. Through repeated use of both Magic Jar, Death Ward, and Death Knell, the necromancer crafts a permanent feedback loop within themselves in a ritual named Opening Wide the Maw. In a metaphysical sense, each of the Greedy has transformed themselves into a creature similar to a vampire, wight, or wraith. Much like those lesser creatures, the Hungry directly devour the life energies they feed upon; the precise means vary, but they usually take the form of blood-drinking, or the direct scouring of their victim’s spirits through a life-draining touch. True Liches do not create spawn when they feed, their victims are incorporated into them in their entirety.

        In return for all of their myriad advantages compared to other immortals, the Hungry must contend with a constant need to feed on souls. While most of the Greedy have within them enough lives to persist for centuries, the abyss where their spirit should rest yearns to feel full once more. Instead of whiling away their existence in seclusion like other immortals, Hungry Ones are constantly on the prowl for sustenance. Any ethical reservations have long been discarded on the road to becoming immortal, so no method for gaining souls is off the table. Other sentient beings are seen a little more than prey, and are treated accordingly. While the less subtle of them simply leave a wake of abandoned villages and haunted survivors, others among the Greedy cultivate death cults dedicated to either sacrificing themselves in their ruler’s name, or bringing them a constant supply of souls to feast upon. It is sometimes whispered among sages knowledgeable in such matters that the gods of the underworld themselves may have earned their thrones by way of similar paths, but the wise tend not to dwell on such insights for long.

        To the world at large, True Liches are the thing of nightmares. Often mistaken for their lesser cousins or for some strange form of vampire, legends regarding the Hungry filter down through the ages in the form of tales of undying kings or queens, of maidens bled to keep a noble woman beautiful, or of baleful ancestors who appear to steal the souls of their sinful descendants. These stories are discarded as mere fancies, deals with fiends, or unique circumstances, but this does not usually save a lesser necromancer accused of soul-theft from the pyre. True Liches are rarely at serious risk from fearful mobs, or even determined groups of undead hunters, possessing enough personal power to annihilate dozens of assailants with a wave of their hand and some muttered words. 

        

        Most of these supposed Kings and Queens of Death are undone by their own base urges, their hunger driving them to reckless actions which inevitably end in them being either sealed away, trapped, or simply starved away into nothingness. The majority of the rest are claimed by the lassitude that seems to afflict nearly all immortals. Those few who have survived for millennia are dangerous, crafty, and above all, careful.

Game Information

As undead creatures, the Hungry do not need to eat, sleep, drink, or rest in any way. Any autonomic functions they perform are either out of habit, or a form of conscious mimicry of life on their part. Unlike other undead, Greedy Ones cannot be turned. True Liches are immune to death spells, as well as any harmful spells from the Necromancy school. Owing to their deathless nature, True Liches are able to endure crippling injuries such as decapitation, dismemberment, or conflagration. Even if rendered incapable of movement, the Hungry can still spend SP (see below) or cast spells. Instead of being rendered unconscious or dead at 0 hit points, Greedy Ones must be reduced to a number of negative HP equal to their constitution score times five. Even then, this may still not mean the end of them.

True Liches power their frightening abilities by the same means through which they attained their immortality; stolen souls. In mechanical terms the number of spirits one of the Hungry has access to is measure by the number of Soul Points they possess. Each Soul Point (SP) is equivalent to a single HD from a healthy humanoid. Most NPCs are only capable of giving a single SP, but monsters or humanoids with character levels can provide a number of points equivalent to their HD. Only sentient beings can be said to have souls. Animals, vermin, or other forms of non-sentient life cannot provide soul points. The particulars of how sentience is defined within a campaign world is beyond the scope of this article.

To harvest soul points, a Greedy One must kill the creature themselves with either a spell or effect from the necromancy school, or during a short ritual requiring 10 minutes times the sacrifice’s HD. The points are added to the True Lich’s pool immediately. Victims who have been devoured by a True Lich crumble into dust and cannot be restored to life by any means short of a Wish spell or True Resurrection unless the Lich who stole their soul is slain before they can spend it.

A member of the Hungry will not die from old age as long as they have a single SP left, but their apparent age degrades by a decade for every month they go without gaining more soul points. True Liches who have let their bodies degrade to elderly status may take physical aging penalties as appropriate until they refresh themselves. A True Lich begins to age at the natural rate for a member of their species if they are reduced to their last soul point. At the end of every month a Hungry One does not gain any new soul points they must make a save against Death, Fortitude, or Constitution (as appropriate to the system) and upon a failure they must seek the closest form of sentient life and attempt to devour it using the most direct means at their disposal.

Hungry Ones may only spend SP once per turn, but any amount may be spent, split among as many effects as they wish. They can choose to spend soul points on their own turn, or as a reaction to another creature’s actions. Spending SP does not consume an action, leaving them free to attack, move, or cast spells as normal. There is no upper limit to the amount of SP that a Hungry One can possess. Below are a few horrifying feats which soul points can be used to perform. Referees are encouraged to think of more.

SP Cost	Effect
1	The Tyrant of Death reduces their apparent age by a decade.
1 per query	The Lich questions ones of the souls they have eaten, but not yet absorbed. This functions as a Speak With Dead spell with perfect clarity and truthfulness.
2 + 1 per die/round	Bolstering their bodies with nercomantic energies, the Greedy is able recover from grievous wounds in mere moments. For each soul point they spend the Lich may choose to gain Fast Healing of 5, or to have the healing effect last for 5 rounds; each point spent in addition to the first 2 increases the effect by either another 5 points of healing, or additional rounds of duration.
2 per level of spell	Using their mastery of the deathly arts, the Hungry One burns soul points into necromancy spells, replicating the effects of any spell of that school that they have knowledge of. A Hungry One may not cast a whose level is higher than they can through their class abilities.
4	Instead of succumbing to a failed save or hostile effect, the Hungry One may choose to automatically succeed their save or end the effect instead.
1 + HD of Creature	Digging into their store of pilfered souls, the tyrant of death summons one of the beings which they have eaten, but not yet absorbed. Crafting them a body from pure soulstuff, the Lich brings them back as a revenant for a short time. The summoned soul persists for a number of rounds equal to ½ of the Lich’s HD, rounding up. It is utterly loyal to their summoner, though they still possess their old personalities.
Lich HD x 3	Overcoming their shame at falling prey to death, the Hungry One prevents themselves from slipping into the afterlife and then reconstructs their body. This rejuvenation takes a 2d4 weeks, and the Lich’s body begins to reform in a place of their choosing.

“All that remains is a pale shadow, wandering from battle to battle. I have come to believe that those frightening immortals are, in fact, frail sobbing children.” - Arthur Hellsing, Hellsing

Well, that’s all folks! I’m done with the alt-lich cycle of articles. Onward to more Thousand-Thousand Islands content. Thanks for reading!

Magic, Madness, & Sadness Part VII - My Own Private Waterdeep

 

Art credit: solstng

“Why don’t you just put the whole WORLD in a BOTTLE, Superman?” - Lex Luther, Superman: Red Son

        No one wants to die. Spellcasters have managed to discover various means of rendering themselves immortal, known by ominous names such as Dreamers, Body Thieves, Conduits, Unmade, Beholders, or Fateless. By hook or crook these folk manage to duck the reaper’s scythe. The majority of these aspirants towards immortality fall along the way, but some persist and reach that elusive peak. Abjurers are the only ones who can reliably claim to do so for altruistic reasons. It is not enough to save them from madness.

        Who wouldn’t want to safeguard their loved ones? The allure of Abjuration is in many ways a more beneficent one than what most Magic-Users fall prey to. The school contains no grand invocations to rend one’s foes apart, spells to ensnare minds, or bend souls to their wills. While capable of attacks due to their limited capacity to learn spells from other schools, most Abjurers trust in their abilities to counter or outlast their opponents. Lionized by those they protect, Abjurers can often proudly wear the titles of Wardens or Stewards. Given they can act as one of the only reliable means of shielding others against harmful magic, most stewards quickly become indispensable to those in their charge, and are given nearly anything to keep them contented.

        It is a sad fact that nearly every Abjuration spell is written in the blood of someone who a warden failed to protect. While some are cynical, hardened, or fatalistic enough to accept these losses, others become haunted by them. These wardens often become paranoid, even controlling, as they search for possible threats against those they are safeguarding. This urge becomes overwhelming as the impossibility of their task begins clear. A steward, no matter how powerful, cannot be everywhere, and they are not omniscient. Many begin to claw desperately for solutions, such as the ways of the Cleric, but either through lack of devotion or zeal, that path fails to show them the right solutions. For this select group of wardens, the answer soon becomes clear: they must seal who they wish to protect away from the world. They have to craft a place that cannot be breached. They must become Keepers.

“Time is dead and meaning has no meaning!” - Bill Cipher, Gravity Falls

        Abjuration is not usually the most common choice for specialist wizards. It lacks the raw destructive power of evocation, the edginess of necromancy, or the sheer utility of the illusion or transmutation schools. While relatively unsung in D&D, spells resembling abjuration magic are some of the most common in fiction and mythology. Counterspells, protective wards, the exorcising of spirits or demons, all fall within the purview of abjuration. The measures Keepers must take are on another level entirely.

        Bill Cipher is the overarching villain to Gravity Falls. A malevolent entity from the 2^nd dimension, Bill had torn his way into the 3^rd dimension a little over a thousand years before the events of the series, only to be sealed away by a group of Native American shaman. This was the status quo until Ford Pines released Bill first into his mindscape, and then eventually tried to bring the entity into reality itself. The ritual went terribly wrong, and Ford was lost to the world for three decades. Ford’s nephew Dipper finds one of his Great Uncle’s journals, and through the course of the series Dipper becomes a pawn and dupe for Cipher. This culminates with Bill breaking free into the real world. While pursuing Dipper and his sister Mabel, Cipher banishes Mabel into a Prison Bubble so he can torture Dipper in private. To our reckoning, it is as if Mabel has simply been magically snapped out of existence.

        The world inside the bubble is made explicitly to ensnare Mabel within perfection. Every whim she has is fulfilled instantly and her reality becomes a penitentiary with bars she crafted for herself. Mabel sees no reason to leave, even when her friends come to rescue her and make it clear how dire the situation outside the prison is. With everything she needs and wants, she can argue convincingly there’s no real reason for her to leave. So what if the situation outside is awful? Mabel can wish up ice cream just by thinking about it! Most of Mabel’s friends also quickly fall prey to the place, since the prison bubble adapts itself to their needs, ensnaring everyone but Dipper. His attempts to try and convince his twin that the prison is evil are stymied in real time by the appearance of a supportive doppelganger of himself to argue against him. Escaping is initially like trying to fight a friendly genie.

        All the sunshine, rainbows and safety disappears when the crew tries to escape their self-gilded cage. The imaginary residents of the bubble become hostile, aggressive, and actively terrifying. The inhabitants begin to hunt Mabel and her friends, eventually capturing them and putting them on trial. While they eventually break free, the message is clear: the bubble is only a place of joy as long as no one ever tries to rock the boat.

“Magic does that. It wastes you away. Once it grips you by the ear, the real world gets quieter and quieter, until you can hardly hear it at all.” - Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless

        Of the immortals, keepers are the most likely to continue interacting with the world at large. Unlike other archmages, keepers generally maintain the high esteem they are held in by others, at least at first. The keeper’s charges vanish from the world, sometimes all at once, sometimes one by one as their “protector” spirits them off to their Domain. Many of these magi will go to extraordinary lengths to conceal these actions from others, often caving to their own paranoid imaginings to ensure the safety of those under their wards. A side effect of this is to conceal the keeper’s growing madness from their colleagues or foes, and often the first sign of something amiss is when the formerly sedate warden lashes out in a bout of arcane violence. The immortal’s erratic behavior then grows into systematic attacks upon anything they believe may act as a feasible threat to them in the future, and once they’ve accomplished their goal of neutering the opposition they retreat into the Domain they’ve been crafting this entire time.

        As they tread the road down into tyranny, particular spells in the Warden’s repertoire begin to act as signposts along the way; Pass Without Trace, Mordenkainen’s Private Sanctum, Globe of Invulnerability, and Imprisonment. All are bent to their limits, and through repeatedly casting these particular spells on themselves and on a discrete area, they begin to permanently alter the connection the place has within the world. This starts off as a form of occultation and immunity from dimensional travel inside the locale, known most commonly as a Domain. Drawing upon decades of experience in their art, the Keeper then encodes mighty wards of obfuscation, binding and protection within the land itself, slowly pushing the boundaries outwards as their insight grows.

        Domains are essentially immune from outside incursions. They cannot be detected through the use of natural senses or magic, and even if one were to somehow find the place, it would be nearly impossible to enter or exit without the Keeper’s consent. Domains are really only limited by how much land a given keeper needs for their purposes. Some may only be a few miles across, while the largest can encompass a city-state. The residents of a domain are inmates as much as they are in it’s protection. While they are safe from the ravages of time and threats from the outside world, they are at the effective mercy of their keeper. Many keepers begin to see their charges as ingrates or lacking the maturity to understand why their guardian’s actions were necessary. Descending into loathing and resentment, most keepers eventually come to wonder why these people were so important to them in the first place.

Game Information

        The myriad spells of protection a keeper has encoded within their soul protects them from both age and any form of natural death or disease. Keepers also gain resistance to non-magical damage as long as they are aware the possibility of an attack exists.

        Through their prodigious command of Abjuration, Keepers can directly sacrifice prepared spell slots to prevent incoming damage to themselves or others. After witnessing a successful attack, and after damage has been calculated, the magus may spend a spell slot to negate the incoming damage as reflected on the table below. A magus may use this ability at any time, but may only do so as many times a round equal to their Wisdom Bonus (minimum 1).

 

Spell Level	Damage Prevented
1	2d10
2	3d10
3	4d10
4	6d10
5	8d10
6	10d10
7	12d10
8	14d10
9	16d10

        In addition to their ability to directly reduce damage by spending spell slots, a keeper may attempt to counter any spell they can currently observe being cast by spending a spell slot of the spell’s level or greater. The caster of the spell must then succeed on a Concentration check or save vs. Magic (as appropriate to the system) or the spell fails. A keeper may use this ability at any time, but may only do so as many times a round equal to their Wisdom Bonus (minimum 1).

        Within their Domain, a keeper is able to control the flow of magic within the space to a fine enough to degree they are able to disrupt any spells which displease them. While inside the domain, spells from hostile sources can only be cast after a successful save vs Magic or Concentration check. This ability stacks with the Keeper’s ability to disrupt spells by sacrificing spell slots. Keepers are Immune to non-magical damage within their place of power. While time does pass within a Domain, anyone living within it does not age, nor can they be killed by non-magical disease. Divination magic cannot locate a Domain, and effects such as Summon Monster or Teleport automatically fail within their boundaries.

        Thanks for reading folks! I have only one entry left in this series, after I am finished I'm intending to show off a few new OSE classes I have been working on. 

All art is the property of it's respective owners, and will be taken down at their request.

Magic, Madness, & Sadness Part VI - A Handy Guide To Non-Existence

 

Then an angel of the Lord appeared to him… When Zechariah saw him, he was startled and gripped with fear. But the angel said to him: “Be not afraid, Zechariah…” - Luke 1:13

        No one wants to die. Wizards have come up with myriad means to avoid this fate. Illusionists pull themselves into one of their own dreams; Evokers tie their souls permanently to the land; Enchanters steal the bodies of others; Transmuters warp themselves into horrifying monsters; Diviners remove themselves from destiny itself. Conjurers forge a different path.

        Conjurers (otherwise known as Summoners or Binders) are along with Enchanters and Necromancers, practitioners of what are known collectively as the Dark Arts. On the surface they do not appear as amoral as your typical mind-bender or soul-thief, but the powers of a Binder are just as readily corrupted. While materializing walls, weapons, housing and other objects is undoubtedly valuable, people are understandably wary of someone who can just as easily bring Fiends into reality. Many Summoners attempt to fight against this stereotype by aggressively policing their own, or submitting to terrible oaths. These efforts do little to burnish their reputations. Whatever their protestations to the contrary, everyone knows in a moment of weakness any Binder could call upon the forces of darkness for aid. This temptation shadows all of them. Indeed, many of their number have mortgaged their souls (or those of others) away for power. How could anyone ever trust them?

        Summoners share a wildly different perspective on immortality than other magi. Unlike most of the others, powerful Conjurers have actually seen or been to the various afterlives awaiting mortals. Most are unimpressed. The afterlife is crowded and dominated by forces and beings far older and more potent than humanity. Riven by ideological concerns and endless moralizing, the afterlife resembles the life they left behind too closely for comfort. Finding they would lose their memories (and magical abilities) upon death is the final straw. Unwilling to brook service to some fell being, or an eternity grinding away at another rat race, these powerful Binders begin to search beyond the boundaries of reality for a solution. In their quest to grasp beyond the end of the universe, they become what are known as Unmade or Seekers.

“In the end, you are exactly—what you are.

Put on a wig with a million curls,

put the highest heeled boots upon your feet,

yet you remain in the end just what you are.” - Mephistopheles, Christopher Marlowe

        The summoning of dark beings beyond the ken of mortals has a long history within the realm of Sword & Sorcery fiction. From robed cultists attempting to summon their distant gods, to witches who trade their souls away to things with unutterable names. The trope of trading away one’s soul away for power is even represented in the English language as the term Faustian Bargain. While D&D is practically overflowing with examples of summoned creatures, most of them are ultimately inspired by the tale of Dr. Faustus.

        In many ways the idea of the archetypal conjurer is derived from the tale of Faust. Based on the real life alchemist Johann Georg Faust, the tale spread throughout Europe during the 16^th century in the form of folk legend and chapbooks. By the late 16^th century the tale had been adapted into a play by Christopher Marlowe called The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus. The play was scandalous in it’s day, the shock of devils being portrayed on stage being said to have driven some audience members insane.

        The plot itself is relatively simple. Faustus is a learned and arrogant man living in Wittenberg. Sensing he has mastered all subjects he is interested in, Faustus bids his servant to summon a pair of magicians to his home. They declare Faustus could be a talented magician himself if he so wished, so he attempts to summon a devil. Crafting a magic circle and speaking an incantation, he manages to attract the attentions of a demon by the name of Mephistopheles. Initially pleased his bindings worked, Faustus is disabused of this notion by the devil, who claims he targeted him because of how imperiled his soul is in the eyes of God; Mephistopheles cannot be bound, as his soul already belongs to Lucifer. After some instruction on the history of hell, he is offered a bargain by the demon; Faustus will be given 24 years of life, and during which he will be able to command Mephistopheles as he will. In return, Faustus must give up his eternal soul to Lucifer. The contract of service and sale is written in Faustus’ own blood. The good doctor signs, and the terms of service begin.

        Faustus becomes renowned for his abilities, able to perform seemingly miraculous feats. Unfortunately he does very little with them, amusing himself with what amount to mean-spirited jokes and pointless attempts to impress his peers and social betters. The time flows by for the doctor, and when his 24 years are nearly up, he begins to understand how much of his time and power he has wasted. Despairing, Faustus appears to his fellow scholars and gives an emotional speech about how foolish he has been, and how he has given up his eternal soul for no reason. He tries to repent and renege on his deal, but at the 11^th hour the demons and devils of hell, led by Mephistopheles, rise from the depths and drag the screaming Faustus down to Hell.

        While the story of Doctor Faustus could obviously apply to a foolish Conjurer, or really any Warlock at all, the influence of this tale upon D&D really cannot be understated. It is all there—the magic circle, the creepy behavior of the summoned creature, the failed binding resulting in the summoner being dragged to hell—all of it underpins how conjurers are not only portrayed in D&D, but really within fiction in general. However, a seasoned conjurer would find the story of Dr. Faustus that of an inexperienced Summoner with a distinct lack of vision. To them, Faustus could have gotten the better of Mephistopheles, had he been wiser.

“Hey Rocky, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat…” - Rocky & Bullwinkle

        With the talent to bend eldritch beings and reality itself to their whims, the fear of death and sublimation drives prospective seekers forward. Their explorations start at the material plane, move to the Inner Planes of the elements, and to the Outer Planes of morality. There they find nothing but an eternal, ensnaring status quo. Searching ever further and wider, they delve into the forbidden lore of the Shadow plane, or the Far Realms. Even there, they find chains waiting for them.

        Seemingly bereft of options, many would-be Seekers simply stop there, and in despair they choose to bind themselves to some spirit. Others press on. They find that there is Nothing beyond the boundaries of the planes and existence itself. No mere void, but the place from whence existence was formed; every concept, natural law or physical object had their origin in this non-place outside of time or space. This Nothing, is made up of the cast-off shells of existence, every thought or notion that did not make its way into reality. Irrational numerical systems, colors and sensations which have no analogue, all of these things and innumerable others are in this non-existence. The Seekers have found their home at last. Now they must survive it.

        Non-existence is difficult, to say the least. Trying to directly transport oneself directly there seems unwise to even the most reckless Summoner. After all, even the gentlest of the planes require preparation beyond what most mortals can manage; the Nothing would logically require even more. Putting together the clues left behind by those who have achieved the pinnacle before them, they enact a ritual termed The Summoning of the Self. Meditating long upon their memories and goals, the Binder crafts a series of four objects known as Fetters, which represent differing aspects of their core being: the Wand, symbolizing their will and ego; the Coin, which is the symbol of their own body, and actions taken during the Summoner’s life; the Cup, which is the representation of their emotional and spiritual connections to reality, and finally the Sword, which symbolizes the Binder’s opposition to certain ideas, and their own ideals in turn. Despite the names, these objects are not usually what their literal names suggest, but rather things which evoke those feelings within the Seeker. Each of these objects is then in turn placed upon a summoning circle in which the Conjurer writes their true name. Enacting their final spell within reality, to all observers the Binder seems to wink out of existence entirely. The memories that others had of them disappear as well, leaving only scattered evidence of their passing.

        There, in the place that was not, the Seeker either adapts to their new environment and masters it, or they discorporate entirely. If their fetters hold, and their desire to persist are great enough, the Seeker pulls a slew of the unused concepts from the Nothing into their presence, and shapes them into their Invisible Palace. From there, the Conjurer truly joins the ranks of the Unmade.

        Making court around their Palace, the Unmade wrests the Nothing into the shapes they wish, and summons what companions and servants from their former home as they will. Many legends of the Fair Folk supposedly kidnapping travelers and children have their seed in the actions of an Unmade bolstering the size of their Palace’s ranks. In their impossible world, they are like the Gods of their former existences. For all their power, they are limited to affecting reality through the auspices of their Fetters or by summoning or dismissing other beings from their Palace’s grounds. With limited knowledge of what is happening in reality, as well as servants who tend to go mad or be rendered incomprehensible by the nature of their home, the Unmade is significantly more limited in what they can accomplish than before. Glimpsed chiefly through the actions of servants or eerie circumstance, they are reduced to distant meddlers and observers.

Game Information

        Existing outside the boundaries of time and space, Unmade are unable to die through either violence or age. They cannot truly be slain, as that concept longer has any bearing on their current existence. However, the Unmade must still possess their fetters, and destroying them can have devastating effects upon them, even to the point of leaving them in tatters for centuries until they can reform.

        Unmade may still cast spells, provided they have either a rational idea of what they are attempting to do. Recalling the old rules upon which magic function is difficult for someone who need no longer follow them, and as such successfully casting a conventional spell requires a Wisdom check, or a Magic save, as appropriate to the system.

        Most Unmade rely upon their Fetters to serve their eldritch needs within their Invisible Palace. Fetters, having been summoned outside of reality, cannot affect it any longer. Beings who are unwilling to be affected by a Fetter are entitled to a save.

Fetter	Possible Effects
Coin	Affecting the bodies of others, or their own. Making clones or living beings.
Cup	Controlling the emotions of others or themselves.
Sword	Controlling the actions of others.
Wand	Fashioning new objects or places.

        The forms which Invisible Palaces can take are as varies as the imaginations of the Unmade who made them. While they can refashion them at will, below is a list of some possible Palaces.

d8	Palace Appearance
1	Places important to the Unmade, haphazardly strung together.
2	A massive castle sculpted from some impossible material like quicksilver or glass.
3	An endless and natural-seeming grotto sculpted of bone, blood and obsidian.
4	Some cosmic object such as a moon, or strange and alien planet.
5	A famous historical place derived from the Binder’s home plane.
6	The site of the Summoner’s apotheosis, modified for their uses.
7	A seemingly normal house, with skewed physics and impossibly turned rooms
8	The vision of what the Summoner had expected heaven or hell to look like.

        Well folks, that is yet another entry in this series in the tank. I only have two schools left to go over: Abjuration and Necromancy. As always, I would love comments or follows. Thanks for reading!

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