Forbidden Magick

by

Finley Vorden

Necromancy

Necromancy, typically, begins innocently enough; as most dark paths do. I witnessed a researcher from the Vrogallan sands attempt what she called a “scholarly communion with historical figures” using modified divination techniques. The first warning sign appeared when her dead subjects began lingering after questioning. The second, more alarming indicator came when her cat died and mysteriously returned the following morning. By the time local authorities intervened, she had established what she termed a “research community” of reanimated corpses in her basement.

When I interviewed her in prison several moontides later, she complained bitterly about her inability to heal a simple paper cut. The gods, universally protective of gentle Ōphīa, collectively block access to restorative magick once you’ve tampered with death. Some practitioners claim this severance is temporary, remedied through elaborate atonement rituals to Ōphīa. Others insist the separation is permanent, a divine quarantine against those who’ve violated natural boundaries.

Blood Magick

Where proper Sjōvneva practitioners beseech divine powers, blood spellweavers tap directly into the raw energy contained within life’s fluid, bypassing divine intermediaries entirely, converting life force directly into magickal energy.

A battle-spellweaver I encountered in the dungeons of Elesdift had discovered blood magick after being gagged and bound by enemies. In absolute desperation, chafing his wrists raw against iron shackles, he instinctively channeled his pain toward a spell. The resulting explosion collapsed half the dungeon, and earned him a permanent place in magickal infamy.

Others stumble upon this forbidden art through ancient texts, tomes typically hidden away in sealed library sections or buried in forgotten tombs for very good reasons. Unlike conventional magickal texts that teach through instruction, blood magick grimoires often contain subtle enchantments that alter the reader's magickal perception, teaching by infection rather than education.

Perhaps most tragic are the accidental discoveries. A midwife I interviewed had attempted to save a mother dying in childbirth with conventional healing magick. When divine channels failed, she desperately pressed her hands into the woman’s wound, inadvertently creating a channel between their life forces. The woman’s draining energy flowed into the midwife, empowering a spell far beyond her normal capabilities. The midwife saved both mother and child that day using borrowed life force; a moral complexity that haunted her visibly during our conversation.

Blood Magick manifests in horrifyingly creative variations. I've observed battlefield spellweavers harvesting the dying moments of fallen soldiers, each death fueling increasingly devastating spells, creating a grotesque cycle.

What truly sets blood practitioners apart (and makes them particularly dangerous) is their ability to cast without utterance. The blood itself becomes both focus and invocation, carrying the practitioner’s intent without requiring spoken components. This silence creates a particular danger for those hunting blood spellweavers; by the time you see the telltale knife or bleeding palm, you're already caught in their working.

Some practitioners take a more... personal approach. Self-sacrifice blood magick involves practitioners cutting themselves to fuel spells, offering their own essence rather than harvesting it from others. This approach appeals to those with ethical objections to victimizing others; a surprising moral line even among those willing to violate fundamental magickal taboos.

Note to travelers: When casting a Power incantation through blood magick, you may choose to make a Blood Sacrifice. Roll 1d4 to determine how many Life Points you lose. You then add that same number of dice to your Power roll for the current incantation only. For example, if you roll a 3 on your Blood Sacrifice, you lose 3 Life Points but gain 3 additional dice for your Power roll.