Hereticwerks: What's In The Attic? (Table 2)

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

What's In The Attic? (Table 2)

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

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

What's in the Attic? (Table II)

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