Teleportation circles, then, are a wonderful innovation for a magical society. The size of teleportation circles ranges from a few feet to several yards in diameter, and they are solid stone disks engraved with sigils of precious metals and inlaid gemstones. A circle acts as a lodestone, naturally attracting teleportation magic to itself. With knowledge of the particular sigils, it’s all but impossible for a teleportation spell to fail or misdirect.

Like teleportation magic itself, though, the circles are a double-edged sword. The precious metals and gems used in their construction are natural targets for thieves, and their very nature makes the circles potential invasion points for enemies. Thus, most teleportation circles are guarded around the clock. For public circles, such as those just outside the walls of most major cities, the guards also collect taxes from inbound travelers. Those unable or unwilling to pay the levies find themselves arrested and/or their goods confiscated.

Even though the magic requires to go from one teleportation circle to another is relatively simple, not everyone has access to their own caster to take care of it. Thus, most public circles also have a mage on hand whose services can be hired. Unlike guards, very few circles have a mage available at all hours of day and in fact most likely only have one around during the busiest part of the day. Though not very glamorous, “Portal Magister” is a common vocation for young mages working their way through school or recent graduates without better prospects.

Also common around teleportation circles are vendors who sell “sigil directories,” scrolls or books with lists of sigils for many common destinations. One should be careful, however, to ensure that they only purchase such directories from reputable dealers. It is all too easy to fake a directory for some easy gold or even sabotage one to lure unsuspecting travelers into traps.

Private teleportation circles also exist. Most castles have them, as do some of the wealthiest individuals. Needless to say, the sigils for such private circles are guarded carefully. For individuals, frequently only the owner knows them and for castles the information is limited to a small handful of loyal– and well-paid– portal magisters. Those expected to have legitimate use of the castle’s circle– such as a military commander or a diplomat– might be entrusted with a portal magister as an attendant.

One common safeguard for private circles is to create two circles with nearly-identical sigils. One is safe and the other booby-trapped. The sigils are created such that the safe one is much more exact and finer in detail than the false one, such that if a mistake is made it will most likely end up with the travelers being sent to the booby-trapped circle.

Spellblight is a magically-transmitted disease; it can pass along when someone infected by it casts a spell on someone else, and even when they are having a spell cast upon them! Many priests have contracted spellblight from healing a templar’s wounds.

The disease feeds on magical energy. It seems more severe when arcane magical energy is used, but it does not spare practitioners of divine magics. Interestingly, psionicists seem unaffected by the disease. When someone with spellblight casts a spell, they will feel a burning sensation throughout their entire body as if their blood itself was boiling. The more powerful the spell, the more intense the effect. If not careful, a wizard infected with spellblight could easily pass out from the pain or even die.

Aside from that, there are no other symptoms. It is almost impossible without the aid of divinations to determine if someone is infected with spellblight. Spellblight will usually go away on its own in a few weeks, though the process can be speeded along a bit by chewing ganthum root and drinking hot tal. Ganthum root is also useful for dulling the effects of spellblight. Fresh ganthum is most effective, but most magic users carry around dried ganthum root for emergencies, because you never know when spellblight will strike.

Encounters with Spellblight

Spellblight is a wonderful little disease to inflict on your PCs, as it’s fairly easy to introduce. All it takes is a single afflicted sorcerer to try and charm the warrior, and then the cleric who tries to heal or buff him is going to have a nasty surprise. Of course, the players might notice that the sorcerer was afflicted with it as well. In this case, there are two options to make it a bit more sneaky.

1: Have some people be immune to it. They still act as carriers, but it doesn’t affect them.

2: Add an incubation period. During the incubation period, the disease can still spread, but it won’t effect the host.

How the Lazarus Plague works is a mystery. It somehow puts a cease to all the biological activities in your body, but doesn’t really kill you in the sense we’re accustomed of thinking. In every clinical sense you’re dead; no heart beat, no need to breathe (though those afflicted by it still tend to out of habit), not even any signs of electrical activity in your brain.

In essence, you’re coasting, like a car on a hill with a broken engine. But just like that hill flattens out and you lose your inertia and stop moving, the Lazarus Plague doesn’t keep you going forever. You can still move your muscles, but just like when you’re alive they’ll tear when you stress them. Now, though, there’s no process to rebuild them. Your eyes dry out, wounds never heal, it’s a pretty terrible way to go, actually.

And here’s the worst part… Once all your muscles are atrophied and you can’t even move your tongue or your eyes… It’s still very much possible that you might be conscious in there. Among some of the first cases, scientists studying them said that the people remained cognizant and responded to stimuli up to the point where they literally couldn’t move anymore.

It’s a pretty scary thought, your body would essentially become your tomb. Most who contract the disease set their affairs in order and then elect to be cremated… Of course, there’s no evidence that that would work either. Victims have been beheaded and both their bodies and heads were kept under their control. Brains have been destroyed as have hearts, but it doesn’t seem that either of those are necessary for this “unlife.”

That raises the question, then; if burning you may not kill you, what happens to your consciousness when there’s no body left?