What's In the Shuttered Room? (Wermspittle/Random Table)

In the course of Roofcrawling, there is a chance of either falling through a section of ceiling, the roof collapsing and exposing some stuffy old attic, or perhaps one of these shuttered rooms that someone deliberately closed-off from everyone else, whether to protect what was locked away inside, or the rest of us...

What's In the Shuttered Room? (D20/Table I)

1. (1d100) Monkey corpses half-buried in a mound of wadded-up paper covered in gibberish surrounding a single, manual type-writer.
2. A Hasnamuss has been shut-up in this room and held at bay by the wards and other protective devices or hastily scrawled diagrams the locals can beg, borrow or barter for from the Midwives, apothecaries, and others. Quite a collection has been building-up around the door to this room. Some of the less cautious types are starting to look at the pile of wards and talismans as a possible bit of easy loot.
3. (1d4) Plague-Carriers are quarantined in this room. They learned how to use the one window to sneak in and out at night and have been living off of pigeons and roof-clams for quite a while now. None of them have had it this good in months, if ever. Their plague is saturating the walls, floors and ceilings of this space. They are mutating into full-blown vector-collaborators: their own symptoms are lessening, but their contagiousness is escalating. The disease is taking over their minds. There's only (1d6) minutes left to them until the mental take-over begins in earnest.
4. Everything is just like the master left it before he left to go investigate the ruins reported to be on the other side of a recently discovered Weak Point. A diligent, but dim-witter Hunchback will answer all your questions to the best of his very limited ability. He will become violent if provoked, but otherwise he welcomes the opportunity to talk to someone during his lonely vigil.
5. The door has been nailed shut by well over a hundred nails. So far the (2d4) Molg who lair in this room ignore the door, as they tend to use the broken-out window to go leave their nest and go hunting.
6. You don't often see three distinct Wet Spots all right on top of one another, but perhaps it has something to do with the confined space? There is a rather stout lock on the door and the walls are still quite firm and unyielding, despite the water stains, accumulated debris blown-in through the windows and a patch of scarlet mold along the baseboard starting at the near window. The boards are starting to sag beneath the pooled fluids that have accumulated in the middle of the floor. It'll start leaking into the room below, if it hasn't already. Funny how no one has noticed that, or reported it yet...
7. This room is covered with a massively over-grown Philosophic Mold that has been trapped here for far, far too long. It is so integrated into the walls and floors of this space that it is starting to seep down through the plaster and lathe structure to fill every internal nook and cranny. It now occupies the house from the attic down (1d4) stories. It will probably never leave this place ever again. It would, however, like to engage the services of a few reliable retainers who might be willing to carry out various errands or tasks on its behalf. It will offer to become a mentor and teacher to anyone interested in learning the art of sorcery and spell-casting.
8. A group of local busy-bodies rounded-up and confined (2d4) Unfortunates in this attic space. They sealed them in there with enough food and water for a month. It has been three months now...
9. A Weak Point anchored here leads across to a similar attic room that is missing one entire wall and most of the ceiling. This provides a vantage point from which to look down upon an even more devastated and ruined Wermspittle than the one from which you just came. The skies are red with the reflected flames of thousands of campfires, burning buildings, and barely controlled infernos stalking from place to place under the direction of strangely garbed technicians. The smell of charred flesh is heavy in the air and it is hot, despite the swirling snows of winter. What remains of the floor in this partial attic is splintering and will collapse in (1d4) minutes. Through the smoke it would appear that nearly every building surrounding this position is either bombed-out, smashed by artillery, or collapsing in upon itself due to some catastrophic failure of the support structure. There are few screams any more.
10. (3d20) Gore-worms lie scattered across the floor. All of them are desiccated and inert from having been shut-up in this space for nearly a full year. Three skeletons are jumbled in the corner.
11. A failed student from the University lies sprawled in a dried pool of blood still clutching an expensive-looking personal Journal bound in elegantly filigreed wermhide. The journal is signed 'Helen,' and it seems to be written in the spidery script of a cultured young woman. The student tore their fingers to shreds trying to tear down the barricaded door. They were locked inside this space by someone who also took the time and effort to ward the walls with a potent sorcerous defense that collapsed once the room was breached. The body casts two distinct yet slightly over-lapping shadows.
12. A Red Shadow has been sealed in this room by use of a dozen or more tenebrous tokens. Each token is formed from lead foil-wrapped zinc and stamped with the image and sign of Saint Adeline. Someone has been leaving a new token nailed to the door of this room every month on the night of the New Moon.
13. A Wet Spot.
14. Three Vilg, each with its tongue nailed to a different part of a crude wooden triangular frame. Three overturned old braziers are set in-between each Vilg. A chalk diagram on three inter-nested triangles is precisely marked-out on the floor. There is a base 30% chance of any one of the Vilg recovering for 1d30 minutes. They can only chant in a garbled manner and their brain is severely damaged by whatever was done here. The nails used are hardened bronze and have tiny barbs shaved into the shaft. They were not intended to be pulled back out.
15. Grallemajji of Pasikoom, a Refugee Somnambulist of no small renown in his plague-ravaged homeland, has paid good money to enjoy some privacy that he might complete his most recent masterpiece--four Feral Children that he is the process of converting into somnambulistic servitors.
16. (4d4) Ractur have broken into this closed-off room, murdered the Patients who were herded into the place by a conniving Landlord and abandoned. The Ractur have developed a taste for human flesh and use this place as their nest. Their regular comings and goings have attracted the notice of a clutch of harpies near-by.
17. A lonely old man lies in his filthy bed, muttering dire imprecations as he slowly succumbs to a Verminomorphosis spell that his enemies cleverly built-up within his aura one step at a time over months of careful, painstaking efforts at constructing the curse well within his otherwise once formidable defenses. His Last Will and Testament is on the floor. He signed it and placed a magical seal upon it before his mind cracked under the strain of the spell's overwhelming influence. A packet containing three spell books (all warded), a personal journal, and the ledgers for his estates are hidden under the bed. His familiar, a Mumbler named Jools, keeps watch from a secret vantage point behind a ragged tapestry. The old man has taken a draught of poison so as to spare himself of the indignity of living through the degrading effects of the spell cast upon him. The name of his lawyer is clearly marked-out on the parcel. He never finished the letter of instructions. No one is coming to deliver these things--the Landlord has been lying to the old man all along and was in on the whole thing, hoping to collect a rich reward for turning over the old man's research to his enemies.
18. A Loathsome Mass.
19. A large, undead rhinocerous stands guard over an ancient chest.
20. (1d4) Cows have fallen ill and been taken over by Gore-Worms (3d12). The block and tackle used to hoist the cows up to this room is still intact. There are three bales of hay not ruined by the blood and effluvia. The owner of the cows will arrive to check on them while the player characters are in the room. They'll very likely charge the trespassers with malicious parasitism or worse...