How Sorcerers grow quiet when they hear of this
blasphemous book. It's hard to tell whether it's the
quiet of fear, or the quiet of utter greed: both
reactions would make sense.
The fear is easy to understand: it is said that
reading even one page of The King in Yellow will doom
the reader into poring over the forbidden tome, never
resting until he or she understands the true nature of
the universe - or else goes utterly mad. Most suffer
the latter fate: no Sorcerer anywhere knows of anyone
with occult power that has read the book without
having their brains burned. Indeed, most disappear
without even a trace. One paragraph is said to be
enough to cause nightmares for a week. In short, The
King in Yellow is a deadly, deadly danger.
But the utter greed ... well, that makes sense, too.
It is also said that mastery of The King in Yellow is
an indisputable indication that one is worthy of being
a member of the Dozen, and it is certainly true that
they all prominently display their personal copies in
their libraries - again, so it is said. All it takes
is an act of Will - and all Sorcerers know that their
Will is, of course, capable of anything. So they
continue to reach out to subtly poisoned fruit,
each quietly confident that he or she will be the one
to triumph where the rest have failed - and each
proved wrong.
Which is, of course, the whole idea.
Eli doesn't get too involved in this Sorcery nonsense,
normally: there are other Archangels that specialize
in worrying about that sort of thing. However, there
was a certain three-week period in 1965 where he just
kept getting bugged and bugged and bugged by the
egotistical bastards, and eventually the Archangel of
Creation got tired of it.
Never annoy Eli: guess what adverb can best describe
his acts of punishment?
That's right, and he certainly lived up to it this
time. There are about 500 or so Kings In Yellow
floating out around there (Eli can be a bit testy when
he hasn't had his first cup of coffee in the morning),
and they've all got some interesting enchantments on
them. The first, and simplest, is that only those who
have both the capability and the inclination towards
Sorcery can really see them: anyone else will just see
a dusty book written in a language that he or she
doesn't know. The second enchantment makes them
effectively indestructible. The third makes the text
thoroughly irresistible to anyone who can perceive the
book for what it 'really' is; legend is quite accurate
in saying that one page is enough to trap the reader
(well, Sorcerous readers).
The fourth enchantment is, of course, the one that
systematically and permanently strips the reader of
all rituals, skills and Attunements (including, of
course, Sorcery - but not Infernal Pact). Every
cumulative 8 hours spent reading strips away 1d6
character point-equivalents: alas, avoiding the
reading of The King in Yellow, once started, requires
a daily Will Roll at -3. Needless to say, the victim
doesn't notice that this is going on - or dismisses it
as 'burning away of dross blocking the way to true
power', or some other pretentiously pseudo-solemn
balderdash. Eventually, when the last Sorcerous
character point-equivalent is burned away, the victim
is left looking at a book written in a language that
he or she cannot read and vaguely wondering what the
fuss was all about.
Again, don't annoy Eli.
It should be noted that most Sorcerers have no idea of
the Divine origins of their designated
Grail-alternate, and would refuse to believe in such a
lie anyway. A few do know about the actual situation
(including, indeed the Dozen), and have even mastered
The King in Yellow.
They have mastered the book by never, ever reading the
damned thing, no matter how curious they are about it.
They go to great trouble to get a copy, of course,
then display it prominently in their libraries. With
any luck, any potential Sorcerous robbers will go for
it first and eventually short-circuit their brains
with the book - thus eliminating potential rivals, and
boosting their own reputations, in one fell swoop. It
also makes for a wonderful birthday gift for annoying
apprentices. Oddly enough, Hell uses captured copies
of The King in Yellow for roughly similar purposes:
it's an amazingly cost-effective way to 'retire'
Hellsworn sorcerers who have outlived their
usefulness. Hell, you can outright tell them that the
book will burn out sections of their heads, and
they'll still demand it from you. Needless to say,
these relics are never willingly destroyed: everybody
in the know knows someone who really deserves their
very own copy.
Everyone in the know also takes to heart the indirect
lesson that Thou Shall Not Perturb Unduly the
Archangel of Creation...
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