The Technical Nature of Magic
In Hizume, "magic" is not a natural force or universal energy. It is a direct, one-way tear into the entity's presence (the unseen Hizume AKA @Shub-Niggurath, with a Thousand Young) through the @Hizume Prayer Book . These small, black-bound tomes contain chants and symbols that act as keys to the dimensional rift. Outside the harvest loop (pre-December 24, 1987), the books are inert—chants fizzle, no effect. Within the dimensional shift, reading a spell aloud pulls power directly from the entity's damned decadent cosmic realm of madness and horror, manifesting as a brief surge of corruption. It's not "casting" in the traditional sense; it's snatching damnation from the maw of salvation. The caster's voice echoes into oblivion and returns laced with ichor, twisting reality in a localized, unnatural way. It's important to note, The Black Mother AKA Hizume AKA @Shub-Niggurath, with a Thousand Young Doesn't give two pennies about the fanatics that support it. Everyone is fodder for her young in this game.
Casting as an Action
Spells are quick invocations (cast as an action on your turn). No components or rituals needed in combat—the loop amplifies the rift. Select a spell from the book, read the chant (1 action), and the effect triggers immediately.
Corruption Toll
Each cast visibly corrupts the user:
Eyes tear black ichor (caster is blinded for 1 turn unless wiped with a free action).
Coughs up black flecks (takes 1d6 psychic damage, no save).
Repeated casts accelerate transformation to shibito (GM tracks narratively: 3–5 casts = goat pupils; 6+ = full shibito). Fanatics embrace this as “purification”—they see it as becoming closer to the mountain’s will.
Critical Failure (Roll of 1)
If the caster rolls a natural 1 on the attack roll or saving throw for the spell, they undergo immediate corruption:
The caster takes 99 psychic dmg.
They transform into a @Black Mother's Spawnling.
If the cater is in the party, they are lost to the party; the @Black Mother's Spawnling turns hostile and attacks.
Available Spells (Action, 1/turn)
@Thousand Young Blast
@Mother's Protection
@Call Thralls of the Mother
Why Fanatics Cast (Negative NPCs)
Fanatics are fervent supporters—casting is worship. They risk it freely in the loop, accelerating the harvest. Positive characters avoid it: the toll is too high, sanity erodes, transformation looms. Players might be tempted for desperate moments (e.g., endgame ritual), but a natural 1 could doom them.
Keeper Notes
Books are rare (1 per fanatic); losing it silences them.
Corruption is narrative (eyes tear, cough ichor, veins show) for roleplay.
Balance: powerful but self-destructive. Use for tense, risky moments.
Critical failure (nat 1) turns caster into @Black Mother's Spawnling —hostile, GM-controlled.
Casters must be followers of Shub-Niggurath to cast in this game with the exception of Deep Ones and Deep One Hybrids who get their power from Dagon or perhaps the Great Old One. (different patron but their spells are limited in comparison) They are weaker in this realm.
In the shadowed annals of the Mythos, where the veil between the rational world and the cosmic horrors thins to a gossamer thread, the @Occultist tread a perilous path distinct from the fervent devotees of the Outer Gods. These investigators—those brave or foolhardy souls who peer into the abyss not out of worship but out of a desperate quest for understanding—wield fragments of eldritch power that mimic the profane arts of the cults. Yet, their magic is no gift from the fecund void of the Black Mother, @Shub-Niggurath, with a Thousand Young , whose teeming spawn and grotesque fertility rites empower her true acolytes with a twisted vitality. No, the spells cast by Occultists are illusions of autonomy, drawn from the frayed edges of human psyche and the forbidden tomes that whisper half-truths, exacting a toll far steeper than the ecstatic madness embraced by cultists.
To invoke such sorcery, an @Occultist must delve into grimoires like the fragmented Pnakotic Manuscripts or the accursed Necronomicon, piecing together incantations that warp reality's fabric. But this knowledge alone is insufficient; it requires a harrowing communion with the incomprehensible, a mental forge where the caster's will clashes against the indifferent chaos of the universe. Each spell—be it a barrier against the formless spawn or a glimpse into the angles of time—demands a sacrifice of sanity, manifesting as visions of writhing geometries that erode the mind like acid on parchment. Mental fatigue follows, a profound exhaustion that leaves the @Occultist hollow, prone to hallucinations of elder things slithering at the periphery of vision. Unlike the cultists, who draw sustenance from Shub-Niggurath's dark milk, replenishing their fractured psyches through ritualistic surrender, Occultists pay dearly for every invocation, their humanity crumbling with each use until they risk becoming vessels for the very entities they oppose.
Yet, herein lies a cosmic jest, orchestrated by the Crawling Chaos himself: Nyarlathotep, the Black Pharaoh, the Faceless God who dons human guises to sow discord among mortals and divinities alike. Ever the trickster, Nyarlathotep delights in subverting the grand designs of his kin, particularly the Black Goat of the Woods, @Shub-Niggurath, with a Thousand Young , whose insatiable proliferation threatens to engulf all in mindless growth. For motives shrouded in enigma—perhaps mere amusement, or a deeper scheme to maintain the fragile balance of eldritch rivalries—he subtly intervenes in the affairs of investigators. It is his unseen hand that accelerates their acquisition of arcane lore, embedding whispers of spells into dreams or aligning chance discoveries of ancient artifacts. Thus, @Occultist need not languish for years in study; a fleeting insight, a nocturnal revelation, suffices to unlock forbidden rites. Neither cultist nor Occultist perceives this meddling—the former blinded by fanaticism, the latter by rational denial—but it serves as a thorn in @Shub-Niggurath, with a Thousand Young side, arming her potential foes with just enough power to disrupt her cults without fully succumbing to her embrace.
In this way, Nyarlathotep's resistance manifests not as benevolence, for such a concept is alien to the Outer Gods, but as a capricious foil. Occultists, unwitting pawns in this divine prank, cast their spells at great personal peril, their fragile minds the battleground where cosmic trickery unfolds. To meddle in such magic is to invite the abyss's gaze, and in the end, even the Black Prince's aid may prove the cruelest deception of all.