Disclaimer:

This is not a rulebook nor an expansion for any particular TTRPG system.
Copyright © 2022 by Sleepy Wyrm Creative Guild. The characters and entities included in the book can be included in any
Cover art © by Floh (Florence) Pitot (FlohGna). fantasy setting at the backer’s discretion. It doesn’t include stats or any
specific references to any TTRPG system. This zine can be described as an
All rights reserved. art book that includes lore-like descriptions of the entities it portrays.
You are not allowed to redistribute this book nor gain profit
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under an ISBN. If you complement the contents included in this book
Formatted by FlohGna. by adding stats, lore, or any other type of expansion, and want to share it
Printed in Vilnius, Lithuania, by Standart Impressa. online or physically, you must always credit this fanzine as your original
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Please, be respectful to the creators behind this project.

6 7
CONTENTS

10. WELCOME! 44. CURSED PATRONS

46. The Mealymouth
12. SLEEPY WYRM CREATIVE GUILD
48. Silk Merchant

14. FAE PATRONS 49. Lorta, Third Blooded

50. The Egregore

16. The Lachrymore
52. Ventura, the Careful Step
18. Magdalene, the Mourner
53. Xun, the Exalted Ceramist
19. Cyprian, The Chronicler

20. Aurelians 54. ELDRITCH PATRONS

22. Acheron Lespeyres
56. Pantheon
23. Thimble, the Tangled Thread
58. Mother Gabriella

24. UNDEAD PATRONS 59. The Sin Eater

60. The Aphotic

26. The Endless March
62. Morgana, the Merry Death
28. Poe, the Embalmer
63. Venus, the Pearl Keeper
29. Thefarie, The Wanderer

30. Circadia 64. WEAPON PATRONS

32. Hagne, Herald of Rot
66. Trick Shot
33. Viridi of Fertile Graves
68. Charlotte, the Snake

34. DIVINE PATRONS 69. Aka’rahm, the Kingslayer

70. Blood in the Water

36. The Ever Watcher
72. Leviathan, the Collector
38. Sileb, the Revered
73. Intellios, the Word-weaver
39. The Risen Warden

40. Celestial Ashkala 74. MERCH

42. Sunan, the Masked One

43. Yunus, the Sun Hunter 82. CREDITS

8 9
Welcome to Tome of Pacts: A Compendium
of Warlocks and their Otherworldly Patrons!

And first and foremost, thank you for supporting

this project. We are deeply grateful for your interest.

In this book you’ll find a multitude of warlocks and patrons

of very different origins and nature. All of them have been
created by wonderful teams of artists and writers who have
really brought their best selves into this project. After all
these months of hard work, all we wish is for you to enjoy
the final product. Hopefully, you’ll find inspiration and joy
between these pages.

—The Tome of Pacts Mod Team

11
MOD TEAM SLEEPY WYRM CREATIVE GUILD

Mod Monie
The mastermind behind the project, she coaxed us with her sweet words.
She’s also our organization and merch mod.

Mod Ari
The 1st fool to fall for Monie’s evil plan. Born to draw, forced to do Sleepy Wyrm Creative Guild is a small business, established
the math. They’re also our communications and finance mod. by Ari and Monie.

Mod Mars Based in Valencia, Spain, we focus our work on creating

Our resident cat boy and the 2nd fool to fall for Monie’s evil plan. and curating small artistic projects.
They’re also our art mod.

Mod Irene
The 1st victim we lied to, so she could help us with the writing.
They are also our writing and social media mod.
swcg.info@gmail.com

@SleepyWyrm_Ed

SleepyWyrm_Ed

12 13
THE LACHRYMORE AURELIANS

FAE PATRONS
15
 THE LACHRYMORE
The Weeping Wanderer is an entity of true neutrality. A primordial representation of loss
and grief given physical form, it sees no distinction between good and evil. Its wailing reaches
out to all who might hear its plea — the wretched, the hopeful, the lost, the sadistic, the hurt —
and it asks them for more.

T
he Plane of Faerie is more than gilded promises that came to rest amid the tree’s many branches only to be
and effervescent celebrations that dance in the golden caught in its intense gravity of grief and lost hope until the dove
light of eternal dusk. Its honeyed whispers fall was dyed an umbral black from the Wanderer’s canopy
silent in the haunting mists of the Deepwood, in the face and the darkness therein.
of the creatures that roam within.
The Shadow collects the pearlescent sap that flows
Far past the outer groves, beyond gnarled thickets and eerie from the eyes of the Lachrymore’s alabaster mask,
moors, sits an ancient temple long abandoned. Its courtyard and it spins the sap’s milky consistency into an azure crystal
is a tangled mess of roots and unearthed secrets — the clear not dissimilar to amber. These gems decorate its branches
aftermath of something once bound to the soil alongside talismans crafted from the material combined
and a reminder that these woods were not always filled with profound, ancient magics.
with the dolorous song of echoing wails. The temple had been
The Lachrymore presents the most powerful of these charms
well-tended once, and a great tree had flourished in its court.
to its followers in exchange for its favored nutriment:
To the fae, history is not steadfast law but a liquid memories held within tears. Despair, hope, pain, and joy
understanding of multiple truths. Several of these truths all have distinct properties, so warlocks will often specialize
weave the tale of a sapling grown from a solitary branch in those they excel at collecting.
in the murk of the Deepwood. They tell of the peculiar taste
Oftentimes adversarial to one another, the Lachrymore’s
this seedling developed early in its nascence. The temple’s tree
acolytes are locked in a constant struggle to maintain
was watered with tears and hushed words, forces powerful
their patron’s fickle favor. The older and more exotic
enough to stir a new sentience within it.
a creature, the more unique its memories and potent
The Lachrymore no longer stays rooted. It has grown and twisted its tears. The reward for such treasures incentivizes
into a hulking, sphinxlike creature with a bovine body and a the Wanderer’s warlocks to journey far and wide, carving out
face of ivory inset in its bark. Those who seek counsel with a wake of destruction and desolation with each step.
the Weeping Wanderer and kneel in supplication before it are
often met with sinister and cruel remarks from the creature
that lives in its boughs.
Accounts differ on exactly how and when this second
entity came to exist. Most sources agree that the creature
simply emerged from the shadows one day and became
a steadfast companion of the Lachrymore to the point
of indistinguishability. Perhaps it was once a white dove

16
MAGDALENE, THE MOURNER CYPRIAN, THE CHRONICLER
Appearing near places marked by tragedy, A collector of stories and dilettante of tears,
she embraces those bearing immense pain his observant nature and loud appearance
to relieve their hearts of such heavy burdens serve him well in heightening the emotions
and claims their suffering tears as payment. of any encounter.

18 19
 AURELIANS, THE ETERNAL CHRYSALIDES
Despite a close association with Lepidoptera, Aurelians have a purpose much more reminiscent
of gyne from the order Hymenoptera. These “Queen Bees” of the fae world appear biologically
designed to create more faeries, making them an invaluable member of the court system
just short of archfae status.

D
eep within the forests of the world, in those areas The power an Aurelian gifts its warlocks is so potent
that straddle the veil between the planes, lie that it transforms them into fae creatures. The mark of
extravagant ruins transformed into ethereal havens such a pact is a glass-like appendage that appears to be
for an assortment of moths and butterflies as well as several filled with petals, wings, or other insect parts — much
smaller fae creatures. The caretakers of these interplanar like a chrysalis. The more dedicated a warlock, the more
sanctuaries are a towering breed of insectoid faerie, aionia of their body they forfeit to become object nurseries
chrysallida — commonly referred to as Aurelians. for these burgeoning fae.
This species’ reproduction is focused solely on a sort A deal, once accepted, is nearly impossible to renounce.
of consensual parasitism, often under the false guise Parasitic fae prostheses are able to induce mood-altering
of mutualism. Aurelians will take on more comely, chemicals like serotonin, dopamine, and adrenaline.
near‑humanoid appearances to appeal to potential hosts. This ability introduces an addictive quality that impels
According to what limited anecdotal research exists, no two warlocks to return to their Aurelian patron until they give
disguises are alike. Each Aurelian takes on their own over their entire body, allowing the fae growing inside
persona to appeal to the type of host they seek. to finally take over their host.
Documented cases describe a motley cast ranging A select few warlocks seem to have worked out a more
from helpless crones and charitable hierophants to beautiful mutually-beneficial exchange, though the extent of its success
maidens and crestfallen harlequins. No matter the likeness is as yet undocumented. In lieu of surrendering their
they choose to mimic, Aurelians are distinguishable own forms, these cunning malefactors prey upon more
by their insect-like extremities; an iridescent, glassy chitin; impressionable souls to trick into taking on the parasitic
gossamer wings; and compound eyes. burden in their stead.
It is important to note that however intimidating Warlocks of this caliber are also well known for seeking out
an Aurelian’s presence, they are non-hostile so long like-minded individuals with the intent to lure them into
as they remain unthreatened. In fact, Aurelians pride their own pacts. Such brazen, devious behavior has given rise
themselves on their hospitality toward those lost wanderers to the widespread rumor that the first sacrifice these cruel
who stumble upon their ancient sanctums, as this is the pool shepherds make is their heart.
from which they must choose their hosts.
While not inherently evil, Aurelians — like many fae —
are duplicitous by nature. They rely on twisted truths
and indirect deceptions to garner favor and credibility
with those willing to offer themselves as collateral.

20
ACHERON LESPEYRES THIMBLE, THE TANGLED THREAD
Like moths to a flame, nobles flock to gossip. A mysterious couturier whose beautiful
Lord Lespeyres, the Spymaster, witnesses all. creations, garnments interwoven with insect
Avoid the spotlight or risk becoming the flame remains, fit to perfection. Mind your tongue,
to which his moths flock. lest their needles dig too deep.

22 23
THE ENDLESS MARCH CIRCADIA

UNDEAD PATRONS
25
 THE ENDLESS MARCH
Endless is a bottomless well, where no light seeps through and nothing can grow. In the darkness,
there’s something pushing through — the birth of a new moment, the start of life in the hollow
corpse of the earth. The March. It waits, watching in endless momentum, wondering when to give
you just one more chance to stride forward.

I
n a body made of broken bones and decaying flesh, Perspectives and paradigms shift, reality becomes a fragment
adorned in jewels and broken swords, forgotten of many associations. The windows of the world become
heirlooms long since offered to them. Here is the birth doors with stained-glass, severing the images before it
of history and the remainder of the future, in their presence but permanently accessible. The representation of fleeting
the past becomes the present and the future happened and ever forward existence.
yesterday.
The you of now is the you that no longer is and will never be,
The Endless March is the keeper of time, the constant push yet will always remain.
forward, willing or not. The bloodlines of old, the memories
Patrons experience a new meaning in breathe, and dimensions
of new. All are stones that lead to it. To walk through
become passageways that lead to the same moments.
it is to understand that death is a segment of the journey,
The abyss begins to feel as familiar as home.
and to lose it would be to stall in the most terrible of ways.
When the body gives, the bones retain and the Endless March
The Endless March travels liminal windows of death
dances to a waltz only it can hear. To listen to the tune,
and life, of wakefulness and sleep. The juxtaposition
to become a warlock of the Endless March, one must
of happiness and sorrow, life and death, love and hate — that’s
give up their personhood, their heritage and lineage,
the space in which it belongs, and that is what it longs for.
the acknowledgement of their form. Instead, one must embrace
To give into the Endless March, receive its blessing, one must
a serene peacefulness only found in the understanding that
give it both sides of the coin of fate.
everything and nothing exists as a blip in all of time. To exist is
The start and end of a bloodline, the beginning and end of a to be in a constant and controlled pace, the presence of an ever
life. The first of its kind and the last. Those that follow in the looming metronome. A reminder that each notch on the spine
March are patrons of momentum. They enter into a contract was borne of ancient evolutions, encrusted with calcium,
of a never ending cycle, a creep towards a void that they’ll never the body’s own jewels. Rigid in its reminder: move forward,
reach. That’s the beauty of it all, not the finale, but the chase. move forward, and even if you no longer will it, move forward.
The birth, the death and the birth again.
Only then will power flow through you. Only then will you hear
When a pact is formed with the Endless March, a shift the drums.
begins in the body. Cells compose, decompose and compose
once more, a distilled state of being born into something
wholly new and yet, constant in the universe. Possessions
are no strangers to the March’s patrons. Warlocks know
of the metamorphosis that occurs within them, the very
shape of their soul rapidly changing into something new.

26
POE, THE EMBALMER THEFARIE, THE WANDERER
For long as anyone could remember, Poe has Roaming the land of the living for The Endless
taken the dead down into his incensed tomb. March, they collect long lost possessions
While he cleanses the bodies, he whispers to make sure the stories of their owners are
into their ears the beauty of the Endless March. never forgotten.

28 29
 CIRCADIA, OF THE SWEET ROT
There’s a rhythm in all worlds that, when hummed, unlocks terrible power. Circadia, the God
of the Sweet Rot is intimately familiar with it, as they are not one but many — a hive composed
of many small hissing creatures, humming in a tune that will outlast all of them. To hear them is
to beckon them, and to listen is to do it sweetly.

C
ircadia is the moment death draws near, the way a home of evolution and ecology. The food for the soil
fruit grows sweet just before the rot, soft is what rings the toll of Circadia, as it eats with the earth.
to the touch. Endings are the spice of life, providing
When Circadia emerges, it’s with a hum. The life around,
an irresistible call. Insectoid, a constant hum, a bee‑like
the insects, the trees — it all comes together into being,
presence. It creates homes in the hollow caverns of your
shaping itself in its silhouette. The heart is an engine,
chest, and it whispers like the flapping of wings, go forth,
their spine a column of near dead things. Soon after,
bring balance. All things end and all things begin.
the smell follows, sweet and ripe.
Bestow it with your rot, your forgotten fruits and weeping
Its patrons, those who give into the rhythm of rot, are
syrups. Give the sick bark in the forest, the wilted thorns
rewarded with its gifts. Warlocks are often bestowed powers
of your flowers. Accept all that lingers for too long and yet,
that swell with the swarm of insects, control of diseases born
leaves the most traces of itself for all that comes next.
of decay and plague. The earth has the ability to heal,
Not much is known of its origins– though a story is often and so does Circadia. And just when it becomes too much,
told on the outskirts of forests. A bee. Small and dislocated necromancy is no stranger to those that form a pact with it.
from its hive, desperate for some sense of connection, found
Death is merely a moment of progression, a singular beat
a way to speak to a worm. And soon, their shared language
in a continuous motion. Circadia keeps time, an eternal
spread, amongst the rotten beetles and the hopping spiders.
reminder, an ever-waiting partner.
The language of sentience, a single point of origin. The start
of something wholly together and made of a mess of evolution Home is a place to bury the body, and heart is when something
that gathers itself into crumbling piles. And it speaks, new forms where only rot remains. Circadia only wishes,
a language strange but demanding. in its eternal sweetness, to accommodate all forms
of sprawling life that tick against the metronome of existence.
It keeps a rhythm with the world, ancient as life itself, coming
Death and dying are not one and the same, but both welcome
into being by its own sense of will long long ago. Civilization
in its cyclic embrace.
was a blink in its eye, sentience its mother. Its power is ill‑set,
like all things born of ruin. It grants a sweet power and love
that only gives way when the skin has grown so riddled
with decay it has become soft.
To welcome it, to bring the beat of Circadia into one’s home,
one needs a sweet smelling sacrifice. An offering of near
closure, the end of a life but not quite. Wandering, but not
lost just yet. Alive, but still. Rot must borrow in its body,

30
HAGNE, HERALD OF ROT VIRIDI OF FERTILE GRAVES
Raised into the purity of undeath, she spreads “Death goes on forever, my dear” words like
Circadia’s blessings through honeyed words ambrosia, upspoken, yet ringing in your ears,
and golden wings. Once her ministrations take “Do not let it go to waste.”
root, all shall join in Its immaculate embrace.

32 33
THE EVER WATCHER CELESTIAL ASHKALA

DIVINE PATRONS
35
 THE EVER WATCHER
Vision Untainted
Sight-beyond-sight
Know that you are not alone
You are watched, and you are cherished.

W
hile the other Gods celebrated the Winter The Gods assembled, arguing whether to renew their assault
Solstice, it was Vaustis that spied the encroaching on the Void-Born or to sue for peace, yet no verdict was reached.
darkness. Far below the Court of the Gods, Approaching the Abyss meant passing Death’s Veil,
shadow swept across the horizon, and the Void-Born stepped which no God was willing to cross – none but Vaustis. Soft
into the Heavenly Realm. Vaustis blew upon their horn, but and meek, Vaustis could do no harm to the Gods if infected,
their fellow Gods, drunk on ambrosia and hubris for having and truly, they would not be missed among the Pantheon.
been left unchallenged for eons, were unprepared to face With no other option, the Gods honored Vaustis’ decision
the unknown. – and as final tribute, the Gods pulled their constellation
from the sky and wove Vaustis’ burial shroud. Casting it
Astyr, God of Light, led the Gods into battle, so sure
to flame, Vaustis was granted the honor of a living funeral,
that his light could not fade – but the Abyss found him wanting,
before crossing Death’s Veil.
and Astyr was pulled into the Void. Seeing her brother fall,
Selicia, Goddess of War, cried out and ran to avenge him Vaustis made the journey alone, quietly appreciating all
– her celestial blades flashing like an eclipse. But she could not that they passed. The other Gods may not have thought so,
pierce the Void, and the last the Gods saw of Selicia was of her but Vaustis considered their sight to be an incredible gift
crying out as she fell to darkness. – to see the beauty across the Realm was worth their constant
vigil. Stopping just before the veil, Vaustis turned to look once
Seeing the two fall to the Abyss, the Gods halted their advance,
last time upon the lands that they watched over. Then, facing
overcome with fear and grief. Before the Gods could react,
forward with a smile, they passed through the Veil, and were
the Void suddenly retreated beyond the horizon, into parts
no more.
unknown. The Gods returned to their Court to mourn
the fallen siblings – their constellations pulled from the skies, But even as their Celestial spark faded, something endured.
and woven into burial shrouds, to be burned. All the while, From the depths of the Void came whispers, passing back
Vaustis searched for any sign of the Abyss or its spawn. through the Veil and settling into dreams. Secrets lost to time,
in exchange for oaths sworn in defense of Creation. For even
After scouring the Realm, Vaustis finally found the Void‑born,
beyond death, The Ever Watcher remained vigilant.
hidden beyond Death’s Veil. Astyr and Selicia could be seen
among the horde, but it was not truly them. Their Celestial
spark was gone, and in its stead was the Void, spread into
their corpses like a parasite. Vaustis returned to the other Gods
bearing this news, but naught could be done. No records
of these Void-Born existed in history, and Selicia’s death
revealed that the Gods’ strength was no match for that
of the Abyss.

36
SILEB, THE REVERED THE RISEN WARDEN
A cherub-like creature obsessed with their own A warrior fallen in battle, brought back
image. Always by their shiny mirror that would to protect his land. His body is a hollow armor
cast the reflections of a world unknown... so he gets mistaken for a puppet of his patron.
If their face did not cloud the whole surface. Truth is, he follows them out of gratitude.

38 39
 CELESTIAL ASHKALA, PROMINENCE OF THE SUN
First born of the Sun
Rivers boil, the Earth melts
Pray to the skies
Ere Ashkala arise.

T
he Sun, alongside all other Celestial bodies, thought – to incinerate it, leaving such a cataclysm that none
maintained cosmic balance through an ancient could deny what occurred here. But as he raised his hands,
ritual, which demanded power from the Celestial a searing wind blew from the South and Heliare, Third Solar
bodies. But the Sun’s might has been eroded by the Illuminate to the Sun, stood before him. The Third’s face conveyed
Church’s new gospel. no emotion, but even so, Ashkala knew that the Third had
betrayed the Sun.
Wrath. Cleansing fire. All‑consuming light – these are the true
embodiments of the Sun. The Solars clashed above the burning city, and it was Heliare,
empowered by the desperate prayers of the Illuminate,
Thus, for the Sun to regain its strength, the Illuminate
that stood victorious. With a blazing sword at his neck,
Church must be reminded. Ashkala, First Solar to the Sun,
Ashkala only asked one thing – why? Why betray their oath
has accepted this burden.
to the Sun? Heliare gave no answer, and drew back their blade,
Ashkala crossed the expanse of stars, a single destination ready to claim the life and power of the First Solar. But again,
in mind – the Holy See of the church. For what better way a searing wind came, this time from the very skies above,
to begin his campaign, than to burn down the church’s seat and Ashkala was whisked away.
of power? From there, his conflagration could spread across
Ashkala rose upon shaky legs, the Sun’s caress already fading.
the land, leaving behind the rightful fear and worship
Ashkala knew that the Sun would not be able to save him again.
that the Solar demanded.
Heliare, bolstered by stolen prayer, was too powerful to face
A searing wind from the North swept the capital, marking head-on. To this end, Ashkala began to wander the land,
his approach. The townsfolk stopped, surprised that searching for anyone willing to join his cause; he found
such a tranquil day could be disturbed. But in the next followers among pariahs, the forgotten, the disenfranchised.
instant Ashkala appeared, cloaked in flame. A moment Ashkala shared his power with them – raw, destructive might
of silence passed, before the people cried out in jubilation no longer kept in check by the Sun. With his followers,
– a Celestial had blessed them with his presence. Ashkala Ashkala could reignite his crusade, burn down the Illuminate
basked in their adulation for a moment, before leering down Church, and bring the Third Solar to justice.
at a statue shaped in his likeness. He studied it, a private smile
on his face – everything about it was wrong. With that thought,
the statue burst into flames, followed by all other false idols
in sight. His retribution had begun.
Ashkala stood among the smoldering city, his gaze fixed
upon the Illuminate Cathedral. Savoring the heat and smoke
around him, he approached the cathedral with one final

40
SUNAN, THE MASKED ONE YUNUS, THE SUN HUNTER
Reborn in Akshala’s warm embrace, Sunan Seeing themselves a divine herald, Yunus
covers their face symbolically. “Once all Gods takes justice into their own hands. Using
fall, only the First Solar to the Sun will remain.” their patron’s flames and their shapeshifting
abilities, they will carry out their sacred duty.

42 43
THE MEALYMOUTH THE EGREGORE

CURSED PATRONS
45
 THE MEALYMOUTH
The Weaver of Fabricated Truths is a friend to deceivers and innocents in kind; the mother of many
webs in which to catch and nurture followers, helping them grow into powerful beings. She beckons
from dark corners, whispering her gospel to pliant ears and embracing them with open arms.
Her children delight in the gifts she offers, unaware of the strings they attach to.

F
ew know the true face of the Woman in Red, only maternal, mortal coil that attracts followers, while her true self
that behind the flowing silks and gentle embrace hides beyond the veil of darkness, waiting to strike at those
awaiting the broken children she fosters lies something who deny her great gifts.
far more sinister. A seasoned schemer and twister of truths,
The Mealymouth shares her shadows with warlocks willing
she has spun herself an empire of power befitting a Queen,
to pact with her, teaching them the finer points of subterfuge
but whispers say that her beginnings were far humbler.
and deception. Disguises, decoys, and other illusory boons
Born a simple mortal woman with a penchant for deceit,
are offered in exchange for a pound of flesh – often
she spoke in gilded half‑truths and fables to friends
simple services, and sometimes more than their eyes and ears.
and enemies alike, earning herself untold riches and wealth
Some followers walk away with silk-spun webbing across
at the cost of others. Eventually, one too many lies slipped
skin, chunks of carapace speckled like scaled tissue, or even
from honeyed lips, and she found herself caught in her own
chain bracelets around wrist or ankle that carry the weight
web of duplicity – nothing more than a fly at the mercy
of shackles – all with potent abilities to help them carve a path
of the greater public.
to success… but the greater the Mark, the thicker the chains
Like a great plague, the city she’d all but enchanted bore down they bear.
upon her, having their finest mages craft a curse to repay
Those who have seen her true face know the precarious
her for every unkindness she’d shown them. One she’d bear
position a pact with the Mealymouth puts them in,
forevermore, a monstrous appearance to match the black
and seek to escape it by any means necessary. In the shadows
soul within – a form befitting a weaver of untruths
of her spindled limbs and chained shell lies the unwritten
who preyed on weak minds. In the bowels of the city,
price for any attempt to deceive or misuse her gifts: pieces
in a temple to the old gods, they chained her to the very stones
of Warlocks past, broken puppets dragged back to their maker
upon which her fortress of lies was built. There she remains,
by unseen strings.
trapped.
A warning to those who would ponder betrayal.
Yet even this could not quell her hunger for power, nor stop
the falsehoods spun like silk from spindled fingers. Though
the curse had bound her to this dungeon and shape,
it opened an unexpected door. Seeped in the darkest of
magics, the Mealymouth twisted the power she held into
something greater, crafting a duplicitous echo of her former
self. Pallid and fragile, the Woman in Red offers a spark
of hope to those who stumble across her; a warm hearth
and respite from the cruel outside world. This is the seemingly

46
SILK MERCHANT LORTA, THIRD BLOODED
Made a deal with Mealymouth as a vengeful youth, “Royal born, to which we sewed the arm
now seeks a leisurely retirement from her pact. of the Woman in Red. You despair! Yet you are
Sells spider silks and has special offers for those a blessed vessel: do terrible, grand things.
who can help with her predicament. Praise she, in thy arms thrice. O’ Lucid limbed!”

48 49
 THE EGREGORE
The Many-Eyed Watcher observes from beyond the veil, cloistered from the outside world
and hidden beneath shadow and stone. Rumors abound of their terrifying form, but the few
brave enough to look upon them are blessed with incredible gifts and the foresight to chart
their futures.

P
ower is a dangerous, intoxicating lure for any Though the Oracle faded to myth and legend, the Egregore
mortal. Some spend their whole lives chasing it, rose from their ashes. To the few attendants they’d retained
others are born blessed. Faded scripture from time from their mortal life, they gifted shards of their cursed mirror,
immemorial weaves the tale of an Oracle birthed to see distant granting slivers of their clairvoyance and sealing their very
stars and recite the future – but fate wore the mask of a cruel first pacts. They sent these disciples across the land with
mistress, limiting their potential. Imperfection festered feathers plucked from their plumage, inviting them to share
into desperation, the hunger for more burning in their gut, their boons and the promise of more. Each one became
kindling to a greater flame. They sought out mystics, scholars, an Eye through which the Egregore could see, extending
and mages from the furthest corners of the world, hunting for their Sight to every corner of the world; a lodestone waiting
the secret to a higher power until eventually, they unearthed to attract kindred souls. Paranoid adventurers, merchants
an old, long-forgotten ascension ritual. hungry for wealth, and even simple fortunetellers yearned
to be a part of the flock.
“Beneath the light of a blue moon,
ignite four candles upon the cardinal points, Become my eyes, and I will share my Sight.
and offer the Divine a reflection of your desires.
To receive an Eye from the Egregore is a sign of trust, a blessing
True power awaits the unselfish and pure.”
that allows the owner to divine their fate and manipulate
Though much of the instructions had been lost to time, the their future. But no power is without cost, and no Eye is
Oracle was not to be dissuaded and underwent the rite a entirely omniscient nor without limits. Warlocks who strike
fortnight later. As the Moon herself split the clouds above, pale a bargain are left wanting, drawn back to the source by a thirst
hands reaching forward, the Oracle felt hope bloom. Finally, for more in an endless, ever-expanding cycle.
fate was to bless them – but as the first tendrils of radiance
touched the divination mirror channeling their power, the
winds changed: it shattered, and the Oracle’s vision was
forever fractured.
The Divine punish those with greedy hands and avaricious
hearts, and it’s said they delight in curses befitting those crimes.
A desire for omniscience became unending, all-seeing eyes
that never slumbered. A prideful reflection turned ghoulish,
taking the shape of a preening peacock too monstrous
to look upon. And a thirst for power, to outshine all others,
shrank inwards – twisting into a deep, dark paranoia; fear of
their grand ability being stolen from them.

50
VENTURA, THE CAREFUL STEP XUN, THE EXALTED CERAMIST
Hunted for their horn, Ventura’s paranoid His methods to fill his business of antiquities are
nature brought them to the Egregore. ruthless but well-measured.One of his artifacts
A pact, a blessing, and a curse. revealed itself to be linked to the Egregore,
Ventura is not planning to die soon. pleasant news for this trickster.

52 53
PANTHEON THE APHOTIC

ELDRITCH PATRONS
55
 PANTHEON
“... And it spoke with a cacophony of voices, each one vibrating with a torrent of beating wings,
a thousand or more, and it said unto me, ‘Pray for the Harvest! For your Almighty has returned,
and so shall My halls flourish, and be once more filled with the joyous faithful, and all shall repast
and rapture in my glory.‘”

T
he origin of the entity which has come to be abilities that many laypersons view as miraculous; deemed
known simply as «Pantheon» is as obscure as conduits of truly awesome divine power, it is through
and unknowable as its true form; many legends demonstration of these gifts that they are able to convince
of this shapeshifting ancient exist throughout time and across so many to subscribe to their cause. Examples of these powers
multiple nations, but have only recently been considered might include reading minds, healing the sick, performing
as referring to the same being. Some say that it was simply great feats of magic or even defying the laws of nature
believed into existence as part of an ancient and now extinct to resurrect the dead. While for skeptics these may seem
religion, desperate and dying at the hands of imperialism. to be the workings of a charlatan, to those who believe it is
Others purport a deliberate summoning came to pass the very obvious display of a sacred power; one that is inherent
– though by whom, and when, or how, remains unknown. in the natural world and one very much worth believing in.
Few documented sightings exist, but glimpses caught in peripheral A shapeshifter by nature, the patron is able to mimic
vision, in mirrors, over one’s shoulder, or through the magic what it believes to be the shapes of the deities it is trying
of true seeing all tell of an insectoid form. to pose as, taking inspiration from art and sculpture
and the impressions of those it is trying to appeal to.
Scribbled ramblings describe wings of gossamer caught
It sometimes commits unspeakable acts as a part of this
in sunlight between feathery, branch-like limbs, delicate
ruse; not always able to understand the nuance of language,
and fragile; the next, an empty chest cavity and a gaping maw
it interprets scripture literally as it copies the rites and rituals
of teeth, seemingly intended for nothing but to consume.
of dogmatic texts.
All of this imposing, overbearing, illuminated from behind as
if something truly, terrifyingly, holy. Regardless of the horror, those who have fallen
to Pantheon’s influence are often driven to ecstasy
When choosing a warlock, Pantheon favors those lost
by these displays, and give themselves over wholly
to the anguished depths of melancholia. Weary clergy set
to the passionate, tangible machinations of a very real deity
adrift by the imposing absence of their once adored gods
manifesting before their very eyes.
are pursued as if a delicacy in their own right, then shocked
into their faith once more as the pseudo-deity speaks: clearly, Telepathic, Pantheon is not only able to read the minds of
and only to them. Perhaps it thinks it is doing them a favor; its followers but feeds in this manner as well, its primary goal
helping, in a way, to lift the souls of these despondent only to consume the ecstatic conviction of unwavering,
individuals ever higher - masquerading as their departed evangelical faith.
divine and promising real power as the reward for amassing
a new congregation.
Those who form pacts with Pantheon are given extraordinary

56
MOTHER GABRIELLA THE SIN EATER
As your life spirals out of control in a never The clatter of china, hospitable grins,
ending nightmare, find absolution in the warm Eat over the dead to absolve them of sins.
embrace of Mother Gabriella. But beware, The clatter of knives, the dew of blood fresh,
the life of a saint is not without sin. That hunger for sins became hunger for flesh.

58 59
 THE APHOTIC
Beneath the Kraken’s dreamless sleep
In the cold, dark bed of waters deep,
Another elder lies in wait
And hungers for your soul to take.

A
s much as the ocean itself demands respect, Warlocks who dedicate themselves to The Aphotic may
The Aphotic commands it. Incorporeal while maintain their patrons’ favor by presenting offerings,
dormant, this abyssal being dwells deep within whether that be by luring individual victims to their fate
the darkest crevices of the ocean, where the lack of light or summoning their patron to devour entire ships’ crews
in any form is reminiscent of the primordial waters at once. They are typically of an evil alignment, or are at least
from which it was created. unfazed by killing, as this makes up a large part of their
contract with the elder being. In exchange, these warlocks
Only gathering itself into physical form as and when it desires,
are gifted with extraordinary abilities, not the least of which
its corporeal manifestation is truly gargantuan: a towering
being the siren-like song that they primarily use to attract
column of spindly, insectoid limbs, decayed marine life
these unfortunate souls to their doom.
and debris reaching up from the dark, frigid depths below.
The Aphotic does not require warlocks in order to exist or feed
The Aphotic’s impending arrival is marked by an intense
which makes these pacts no small matter - empowerment is
churning of the ocean’s surface. Eventually breaking
reserved only for those with sufficient value.
through a swell, it rises, spitting plumes of brine in every
direction as if bleeding seawater. Strange appendages unfurl Ordinary, hapless folk who dwell on the coast near where
from a chitinous thorax as oily pleurae extend into long, The Aphotic rises are not spared from its hunger; stories
articulated spines, and prehensile tentacles slip beneath tell of The Aphotic’s victims rising from their beds and
the waves, dredging both water and ocean floor for detritus making their way into the sea even as they sleep, where others
to add to its ever-increasing bulk. Within this approximation speak of it scattering amphibious spawn from sacs deep
of a body The Aphotic collects an archive of what once lay within its underbelly, spreading thousands of small minions
beneath the surface it rises from; it is a graveyard of offerings, that stalk the shorelines, ever searching for more victims.
of broken ships and carcasses, of litter and seaweed all Regardless of what or who you believe, however, it is known
entombed inside a sky-scraping horror. that this creature lures all, even those that choose to stay
on dry land.
Silent but for the constant sound of gallons of water pouring
from its frame and the seething ocean beneath, ill-fated ships
that happen to be nearby rarely survive this majestic, yet
violent arrival.
Each crew member is ripe with the potential to be subsumed,
their minds taken even as they try to escape, and the abandoned
carcass of the vessel itself is an appealing addition to an
ever‑growing mass.

60
MORGANA, THE MERRY DEATH VENUS, THE PEARL KEEPER
Morgana found a purpose after they drew out A broken heart left to die by a deceiving lover,
their last breath. The Aphotic saw the hanged Venus found salvation in The Aphotic’s embrace.
captain and promised them revenge. Oh, how Follow their chants and find your end at the feet
many ships will they sink for their patron? of their lighthouse.

62 63
TRICK SHOT BLOOD IN THE WATER

WEAPON PATRONS
65
 TRICK SHOT
Let’s take a chance, let’s have some fun!
There’s more I want to do, and lots more to be won!
Backed into a corner, put in a tough spot?
Let’s play a game, let’s try a Trick Shot!

S
ome years ago on a rainy day, the trickster spirit Jae’in the next time they take their eyes off of it. The gun is surely
grew bored. The boredom of any trickster spirit is now in the possession of someone more interesting.
something to be feared, but Jae’in in particular was
However, there are some warlocks that make a pact with Trick
known for the chaos their odd moods could bring. This time,
Shot that lasts years, if not a lifetime. These rare people can
the aftermath was relatively mild. A gun had been created
wield the weapon as an extension of themselves and work
from a splinter of Jae’in’s magic and gently, quietly, put into
in perfect synchronicity with the gun, going with the flow
the world, where it now seeks out wielders with the same flair
and managing to make the best show out of every situation,
for the dramatic as Jae’in.
no matter what stunts Trick Shot pulls. These special warlocks
The first record of this gun’s existence traces back have been known to see a tiny, jester-like figure with a comically
to a gambling house, where it was won in a low-stakes oversized weapon on occasion when they are in their toughest
game of cards in which every participant was cheating, of binds. The mysterious person always comes with a bright
and the winner simply happened to be the best at hiding grin and manages to scrape the warlock and Trick Shot out
aces. They walked away with a dismally small sum of silver, of whatever situation they found themselves in with a great
a fine‑toothed comb they had no use for, a pair of boots deal of flair and oftentimes a copious amount of confetti
two sizes too small for them, and this curious gun. Soon, before vanishing again without a trace.
they learned that even its jaunty appearance didn’t fully
After all, Jae’in has a soft spot for those who entertain them.
prepare them for how powerful – and strange – it was.
Trick Shot’s first wielder discovered that shots fired from
this gun can have an unpredictable effect. Too many
bullets from a single shot, an explosion of glitter or grease,
or even a completely empty barrel after making sure to fully
load it were some of the frustrating but amusing pranks
it would pull. For some time, this was incredibly frustrating
for the wielder. But then they learned to embrace it, and found
that when they played along, both they and the gun had much
more fun.
Since then, it has fallen into several different hands and more
of its abilities and antics have been discovered. Trick Shot is
never predictable, and above all, never boring. Should it start
to think that its current warlock is becoming too cautious
or uninspired, they might find that Trick Shot has vanished

66
CHARLOTTE, THE SNAKE AKA’RAHM, THE KINGSLAYER
The sharpest eye this side of the continental A betrayed king turned a jester, Trick Shot got
divide. Charlotte is a cheat, a mischief-maker, to Aka’rahm’s hands at his darkest moment.
and a charlatan – and she never turns down “Amuse me and I will grant thee power.”
a bet. The perfect partner for a living gun. He prowls the Earth now, seeking vengeance.

68 69
 BLOOD IN THE WATER
Come, hold me in your hands.
Feel how great my power is,
How great your power could be.
All you need to do is feed me.

H
undreds of years ago, this weapon in its original Instead, they found that she was not lost. Not entirely.
lance form belonged to the leader of an elite band The lance changed in the warrior’s hand, becoming a weapon
of merfolk warriors. Her name and face are lost more suited to them, and she whispered in the warrior’s mind.
to time, but what is not lost was how fiercely and effectively On the barely-still battlefield, with her body still spilling red
she led her group, and how loyal they all were to one another. from the mortal wound, Blood in the Water made its first
Together, they defended their kingdom against all threats pact. Together, the warrior and the weapon sought out a way
and washed the waves in the blood of their enemies, none able for the legend’s body to be returned to her.
to stand in the way of the indomitable front that they formed.
Now, the spirit bound to this weapon seeks nothing but
Their mythology was forged in the iron of both blood and blade,
to reform her body and return to her duty of protecting
and for years nothing could stop them.
those she led. She makes pacts with every warlock she can,
But it was not meant to last. promising them everything they desire and simultaneously
draining their life away. Blood in the Water has a long string
During a storm that churned the water and broke the sky
of bodies behind her, and her desire for blood is no secret.
with lightning, the band clashed with servants in worship
of a corrupted god. In the heat of battle, no one saw But with each warlock she tempts, she finds a way to whisper
the weapon that pierced the leader’s chest. But everyone felt exactly what they need to hear in order to enter the pact.
her scream of wrath and indignant agony flood the field of war And with each empty, broken warlock she leaves behind,
and shake the very souls of all who heard. But this did not her determination only grows stronger. She has convinced
kill her. She continued on. More blades breached her scales, herself that blood can only be bought with blood, and she will
unnoticed, until her wounds grew too great even for her claw her way back into her physical form no matter
to ignore. what it takes.
However, even as her thrashing body failed, her loyalty did
not. The dying determination of the legendary warrior refused
to fade, and as one hand tried to staunch the river of blood
from her chest, the other gripped her lance with unyielding
resolve as her soul poured into it. When her body
eventually fell, so did her weapon. But now, it vibrated
with furious life.
Overwhelmed by the crushing weight of grief,
one of her warriors picked up her weapon after the battle,
intending to use it to honor her loss and her years of leadership.

70
LEVIATHAN, THE COLLECTOR INTELLIOS, THE WORD-WEAVER
The lantern whispers in Leviathan’s ear. An author who grew to fame quickly.Too quickly.
She knows his deepest desires. She knows what Once renowned horror novelist turned horrific
must be done. “Only a few drops of blood, mess. His ideas keep getting worse, but he can’t
Leviathan, and knowledge will be granted.” stop writing – the pen controls him.

72 73
MERCH

75
MERCH

Patches by Ian Pinkis

Notebook by Gideon

Acrylic charm by Higgs

Ex libris stamp by Monie

Masking tape by Myy

76 77
MERCH

Enamel necklace by Yuuto

Tote bag by Monie and FlohGna

K IN TR
C

WARLO

AIN
ING
Stickers by Gaia Fesbak

78 79
MERCH

Bookmark by Monie

Stickers by Sue

80 81
CREDITS

83
FAE PATRONS UNDEAD PATRONS

K. JENKINS arpeggiosmelody.carrd.co SON M. theboglands.com

TSHORTIK annagrin.squarespace.com CAEMIEL LILIUM @Caemiel

ERIC GRIMOIRE HELEN MASK ROWAN MACCOLL MARGHERITA CASTELLO

@eric_grimoire helenmask.com @Skulkingfoxes leevolt.carbonmade.com

VICKY PANDORA @VickyPandora MARS royalsea_art.artstation.com

AEMIRON LUCÍA POZZO NINA MODAFFARI MORGAN MADELINE

aemiron.com lupozzo.artstation.com @NinaModaffari morganmadeline.com

84 85
DIVINE PATRONS CURSED PATRONS

SER MIMIC @SerMimic LUNARESOLIS @Lunaresolis

MAREN rosemaren.com ADAM BARKER artstation.com/adambarker

CUARTO_SOL LÉAN FILIBUSTERFROG MYY

@Cuarto_Sol kyotosparty.com @Filibusterfrog @_Mythir

NIDHI @Aranyaksha MORO yazmatihome.carrd.co

INDY (TREFLE) PLANETS CECILIA NESTI LIZZART

@Trefle_IX planetsandmagic.tumblr.com @Janedoe2971 lizzart_zardonicz

86 87
ELDRITCH PATRONS WEAPON PATRONS

E. R. HUGHES gothhoblin.me EZRA DAY @UnholyAuthor

INKEYJAY @Inkeyjay QAZ @QAZtheArtist

ANAFI JABBERWICK SHAE SILVIA

@Anafigreen jabberwick_art @essemandin @CarlenneART

NEWT @AnnaTheNewt ELLIOT artstation.com/thenothingmaker

ARI EVAN SR YANMORI OSHEETS

arigonzalezportfolio.weebly.com evanseru.artstation.com yanmori.carrd.co stevieb.carrd.co

88 89
MERCH GRAPHIC DESIGN

IMNOTAMARYSUE imnotamarysue.tumblr.com

HIGGS MYY
bibithebrown @_Mythir

IAN PINKIS GIDEON

@IanPinkis milkynoire.com

CRIS FLOHGNA
GAIA FESBAK YUUTO cristigupa @FlohGna
gaiafesbak.tumblr.com irlyuuto

SUE MONIE
musgosus_ @TomeOfMonie

90 91
B eware, mere mortal! This volume contains
secrets beyond human comprehension.
Behold the ancient wisdom the Keepers
of Knowledge have poured into these pages,
and discover the pacts formed by elder beings
and warlocks… if you dare.
Tome of Pacts is a collaborative artbook,
featuring more than 50 artists and writers.
They have worked together to bring you new
and innovative lore that you will be able to include
in your TTRPG campaigns.