[Mage: Awakening 2e] Denizens of the Abyss (Abyss part 4)

Chronicle: Mage 3: The 6th Watchtower
Venue: Mage: The Awakening 2nd Edition
Chronicle Storyteller: Jerad Sayler

Eye of the Void: 

Travel in the Abyss & Abyssal Magic

Part 4

Chapter Four- Denizens of the Abyss

Other Chapters:

Chapter One - Travel in the Dark

Chapter Two - The Outer Dark

Chapter Three - The Inner Dark

Chapter Four - Denizens of the Abyss

Chapter Five - Abyssal Magic

Sources:

- H.P. Lovecraft Mythos

- Stephen King Mythos

- Mage: The Awakening 2nd Edition

- The Left-Handed Path (MtA1.0)

- Intruders: Encounters with the Abyss (MtA1.0)

- The Imperial Mysteries (MtA1.0)

- Night Horrors: The Unbidden (sourcebook for MtA1.0)

- The Summoners (MtA1.0)

- Second Sight (nWoD)

- The Secret World and the Secret World Legends video games by Funcom

- Our Chronicle Story events

- Kabbalah religious concepts

- Satanic religious concepts

Chapter Four - Denizens of the Abyss

"While the olden voices calling, One by one behind are falling; Into silence dread, appalling, Drift we to the dark...  Hopeless, helpless, weird, outdriven, Fateless, friendless, dread, unshriven, For race-doom
unforgiven, Drive we to the dark."  -The Dread Voyage

Reality Bending Horrors

There are things that lurk in the darkness. Beyond the endless Stygian ink between the stars, in the warm and clinging dank of steam-filled haunts, and in the tenebrous impulses of corrupt flesh. Some of these things have always been, as old as time and as alien as the totality of undifferentiated experience. They have no purpose save entropy, no pursuit other than to drag life down into the endless crushing maw of a virulent universe. Some are new as an unborn fetal glob, a discarded thought-form without flesh, only possibility. Others are young and hungry, eyeing the cracks of reality with a burning lust in their bellies, aching to devour and destroy all that crawls and lives and dreams. There are even those things that do not wish to destroy, but to possess, to control, to smother and own, to enfold in sodden, clinging membranes that slowly replace clean air with perverted fluids gushing down throats to fill bodies and minds with dreams of obedience and degeneracy.

All of these various entities have one trait in common, however. They are not devils of Hell or angels of Heaven. They are not remnants of the world of humans or ancient experiments. These entities are flaws in reality itself, violations against the very nature of the universe. Or, at least, they are violations against the very nature that humans hope and pray the universe cherishes, for these entities represent everything wrong, every creeping fear of isolation and madness and the inevitable howling, gibbering heat-death of all living things. They are fear, bleeding obscene and primordially atavistic.

Those that call them
Yet, terrible as they are, the beings that lurk beyond are not the most horrific forces at work. That dubious honor goes to the most depraved and craven beast of them all, the only being that turns traitor to not only its own kind, but to its very existence and the sacral nature of being. These defilers betray everything real, knowing that what they do is a transgression against all that allows them to be, against everything that gives them life and breath and existence. They do it knowing, at the deepest pit of their essence, that what they do is vile beyond demonology, damning beyond blood-guilt — and they revel in the fact. These things, men and women who once loved and were loved, are the most horrific of all. They renounce everything that allows humankind to survive, plunging themselves and the sum total of creation headlong into damnation. In so doing, they commit the one sin the things in the dark cannot. They choose to be as they are.

This chapter does not cover those depraved and defiled people who worship the outer things, the elder forces, the flaws in reality. While some attention must be paid to the un-nature of outsiders themselves, they should not the primary focus of a story. They are background, the rotting ebon silk upon which the crimson tapestry of human damnation is woven. The process of that human devolution, the violating transgressions of cultist, madman and nihilist, should receive primary attention. A thing beyond time may rise someday, but a player’s character has little time to worry about it while dealing with a lover who tries to seed her with entropy and make her world come undone. Darkness inspires apprehension and fear, but the human face lends it soul-shuddering horror.

The Twisting of Reality

Anything that challenges the Lie draws the power of the Abyss into the Fallen World. If the symbols of the Supernal Realms represent everything that’s True, providing meaning to the platonic concepts the Fallen World embodies, then the Abyss is everything that can’t be. Every so often, part of the Fallen World becomes so overwhelmed by the poisonous anti-symbols of the Abyss that impossibility breaks through to become real, an intruding Paradox that damages the world around it. On rare occasions, these intrusions happen “naturally.” More often, mages overextend themselves or fall to a moment’s weakness when casting spells, accidentally allowing something of the Abyss through. The Abyss isn’t an empty void exploited by the Exarchs, either — it contains multitudes of impossible entities, and whole maddened, stillborn universes mages call the Abyssal Realms, each trying in its own way to infect the Fallen World and twist it into itself. Lesser Abyssal entities twist the laws of the Fallen World, creating regions of corrupted reality or strange, alien entities that mages call Gulmoth. When the Abyss warps the inner Astral worlds of a human soul, it creates an Acamoth, a monster dedicated to making people’s souls more like the Abyss.

Categorizing the undefinable

All such entities are terrors by definition; reality-bending nightmares outside the scope of the mortal mind. But within that great and terrible void is a lot of room for differentiation, with a great deal of fluctuation in power level. Some Things may be ancient, eternal intelligences capable of eradicating planets with a single thought (which they think of only once per eon). Other Things are gibbering forces of madness and entropy that pulse and writhe in the cracks of reality, easily able to rend and devour the faculties of a single human, but unable to effect the cosmos on a grand scale.

Aliens (Alien Beings): 

Completely removed from our understanding and mortal motivation. Monstrous in

the most primitive sense of the word. These Things are not

dead, and may lie waiting, stretching out their influence

to bring about a time when they will rise again, or to bring

about the alignment of events and fates that will allow them

to enter the world and as tyrants. The requirements for such

invasions range from the horrific to the simply inexplicable,

as the bizarre needs that compel the beings are abhorrent

and diametrically at odds with sanity. Aliens are perhaps

of the most common patrons of antagonists who try to bring

about the end of the world, or to set themselves up as high

priests. Aliens are also quite applicable for any villain

working from an alienation standpoint. As your character

deviates so far from humanity, she is able to commune with

the foreign more so than with the commonplace.

Aliens often exist bodily, in either this or some

other reality, and have the ability to reach across time and

space with their foul minds and rotting intellects. And yet,

something keeps them from being active in this reality with

their full might and power. It could be that they are dead

and yet undying, locked away by the shields of ancient

rites, or that the very nature of this universe is hostile to

their intrusion. As a result, they are rarely able to effect the

world directly or physically, but are able to grant followers

potent rites and powers. When these beings do manifest

physically, they usually have bodies that are bizarre hybrids

of beast and human, male and female, or plant and animal.

Creatures with the heads of squids, the wings of bats, the

trunks of elephants that grow from torsos of rotting mold

and with intelligent insect eyes. The servants of alien gods look much

like smaller versions of their masters, but these pawns are

often no more powerful than animals or supernatural beasts and can be banished by the resourceful.

Procreates (Chaotics): 

These beings are not

so alien to the nature of the world as others proposed here,

because chaotic beings were part of the foundation of the

universe. They are, however, foreign and dangerous to the

current form of the universe as they represent Creation at

its wildest and most uncontained, the chaotic and spurting

impulse of fecundity unchecked. They are beings that would

devour the world even as they copulate with it, endlessly

and mindlessly consuming and creating in blasting cycles

that have no rhyme, logic or reason. These entities are

bubbling yeast, endlessly procreating bacterial forces that

overwhelm everything with their sexual, generative, mindless

energies. Obviously, they are attractive to antagonists

inspired by lust, as chaotic beings represent an orgasmic,

orgiastic and endless stream of belching, unthinking pleasure

and penetration. They also hold a certain draw for those

coming from ennui as they offer an alternative to thought

and boredom, a constant dying and becoming, a spurting

bliss that destroys any chance for the mundane as it destroys

any chance for having a sense of self or a thought that lasts

longer than a moment.

Things of this type have no definite physical form.

They, or part of their energy, can manifest either whole or

as one of their spawn or servants. When these agents do

so, they are usually bubbling energies of ooze and yeast-like

fermentation, unable or unwilling to hold a form for very

long. Despite this horrid appearance, heralds are often

capable of causing lust and the need to breed in onlookers,

and of giving their human disciples the same ability. This

compulsion is not about physical attraction, but about

a base need to fertilize and be fertilized, and knows no

limitations of human morality or decency. 

A creature of

this nature is as likely to impregnate a man as a woman. It

makes no matter, for their nature is other. Their physical

bodies can be destroyed, containing them long enough to

do so is difficult. Fire or ice may be necessary to undo them

on a fundamental level. Destroying the body just destroys

the manifestation, though. Most such creatures can never

truly be destroyed, at least not without killing all life. Their

projected servants are usually as powerful as potent animals,

and indeed combine the traits of animals to attain most of

their capabilities and attacks, and can be put down by those

with the guts and ingenuity.

Outsiders (Demons of the Outer Darkness): 

Unlike demons of the

Hells, these creatures are not predicated on any human mythology.

In fact, they’re usually alien to it, creatures so beyond the

human mind that knowing their true nature is all but impossible.

They’re creatures from beyond the stars, out of other

realms of existence, whose nature is alien and dangerous to

humans as well as actively malicious toward life. Unlike other

classes, however, these Things of have one weakness — they

can be killed. That’s not to say it’s easy

to do so. Few mortals could hope to kill even the weakest of

these entities, and the most powerful can annihilate an army of hunters.

But outer things are subject to the laws of death and destruction,

despite all the wrongness of their existence.

Creatures of the outer dark are particularly attractive

to antagonists with backgrounds in corruption and hatred

— mortals may foolishly assume they can control such

“vulnerable” forces. Acamoth are easier to entreat with as most earthbound are grounded in reality.  Outer demon Gulmoth are also very potent at

bringing about direct destruction. Their powers and services

can be used with more accuracy than those of most beings.

Each of these outer things has its own goals and motivations,

though few of them are comprehensible. Those that

are understandable seem to be based on feeding (often on

life energy, though sometimes on flesh), procreating and

expanding their knowledge and influence.

Outer things normally exist half-in and half-out of

phase with the world of mortals. When out of phase, they

are treated as spirits in Twilight

and may be exorcised and harmed per the standard rules for

the ephemeral. When summoned fully into existence,

they acquire bodies and can effect and be affected by the

physical world as any other creature is. In either form, they

retain access to all of their powers and make terrifying combatants.

They come in many different shapes, though each Gulmoth

one normally looks the same each time it’s encountered

Mutated bats, fanged beasts with ape-like bodies and the

heads of crocodiles, flying fungal blooms and amoeboid

masses with filament wings are all possible.

Flaw (Flaws in Reality): 

These beings are not personages or

intelligences, but forces given personality only by the delusions

and madness of those who worship them. These Things are not

phantasms, for they are a source of power among supplicants

who unhinge and debase their minds and souls sufficiently

to interact. This category of Thing encompasses fractures

in reality, the flaws that are inherent to any structure. These

flaws may be known as “the errors of God” and are feared with

a more intimate dread than many other threats, for they are

not apart from reality, but are the part of reality that destroys

the rest. Flaws do not try, plan or desire to cause ruin — they

simply do by definition. Reality flaws are worshiped by those

who are tormented and given to hatred, as these Things are

easy objects of pain and rage, as well as a means for turning

such emotions into corrupt and wicked power.

Flaws have no physical form, no consciousness. Sometimes,

they are described by their follows as “blind, idiot

gods,” but this is just because humanity has a hard time interacting

intimately with things that have no consciousness,

no volition or process, and yet cause change and reaction by

simple and undeniable presence. Some flaws do, however,

“give birth” to children that have consciousness, or at least

mobility and sensibility. These offspring can be like outer

things in form and power, but without intentional maliciousness

or directed purpose. The children of reality flaws

exist only to tear down and destroy, and are often bound and

forced into service by those who worship the parent.

Entropics (Forces of Entropy): 

Between reality flaws and chaos

things are those that destroy and tear down, beings whose

sole purpose is to bring Creation to nothing. Unlike reality

flaws, these beings are conscious, though in inscrutable ways

that often prohibit any true communication between them

and any sane human. In many ways, they are both companions

and opposites of chaos things. While wild things

create and generate and rebirth and consume, entropics

destroy utterly so that there can be no renewal. Where

chaotics are hot, wet, roiling life, entropics are cold, dead

entities that draw everything into their black-hole hearts.

Some of them have no appreciable personalities beyond that

nature, or have a personality too alien to grasp. And yet, a

few have aspects that are all too understandable, filled with

sly wickedness and hatred, taking delight in degrading and

diminishing the universe. These beings can be subtle, wishing

to corrupt one individual at a time, or as overwhelming

as vast gods wishing to destroy everything at once.

In either case, entropics are the ultimate expression of

hate and torment, Things that want everything else to end,

to burn it all so that nothing can ever grow where reality

once stood. Human antagonists with selfish motives seek

out entropics, just as these beings actively court and seek

worshipers. Supplicants will be damned before all the rest,

but they come forth because they are deluded into believing

they can get what they want before the end.

Few entropic Things have physical forms, though they

have a pervasive presence that gives them near omniscient

knowledge of death, corruption, endings and horror. Many

of them are capable of forming a physical shell to house

their will for a short time, and these can look like anything

a being wishes. Because they are so foreign to humanity, and

humanity is foreign to them, they usually manifest in forms

bizarre and frightening — cold, dead and rotting reflections

of shapes given unnatural life. Human worshipers can guide

them to form more easily overlooked shells, from large pets

to mannequin-like humans, allowing the beings to blend

in. These shells, however, are just motes of a Thing’s might

in the world, and are only about as powerful as a very potent

outer thing. In order for an entropic to manifest fully

in the world, a cataclysmic rite or world-shaking

catastrophe is required.

Basic Mechanics for Abyssal Entities
The insane emanations of the Abyss are sometimes expressed as corrupting entities that slither and chew their way into the world. These beings, the Acamoth and Gulmoth, use similar rules to other ephemeral entities. Acamoth are treated as Goetia, while Gulmoth are treated as spirits. The Resonance an Abyssal entity feeds from is reflective of its nature — the truth it exists to corrupt. For example, the Gulmoth Anumerus, which twists mathematics into insane anti-numbers, may draw Essence from the Resonance of “numbers.” All Abyssal entities treat the presence of Sleepers undergoing a breaking point, Quiescence, or Dissonance, as well as mages releasing Paradoxes, as Resonant. Unlike Goetia and spirits, Abyssal entities have unique and bizarre Influences, Numina and other, weirder expressions of their corrosive natures.

Acamoth and Gulmoth twist and taint reality just by existing, and their powers are turned towards the purpose of furthering that (with or without their own agency). Gulmoth corrupt matter and warp the laws of physics; Acamoth reforge Astral realms into hellscapes of Abyssal insanity and nonsense.

Abilities: Abyssal entities are not limited to anything really.  Numina, spell-like Numina, Dread Numina, bizarre Influences, Dread Powers and so forth.  If the intrusion involves a supernatural template it might display similar abilities as that template.  Gifts, Disciplines, Exploits, etc.  More strange things you come up with if you want, have fun with it.  The Abyss doesn't play by many rules of reality unless its concepts are shoehorned into these categories for ease of use for mechanics or because these abilities actually conform to them for some reason.

Category:  They can be be divided into Acamoth (more idea/dream based, Goetic) or Gulmoth (having more spiritual/physical weight and conventional intrusions, Shadow/Spirit).  Gulmoth can be understood to be divisible as Flaws in Reality (Flaws), Chaos/Bubbling Creation (Procreates), Alien Entities (Aliens), Demons of the Outer Darkness (Outsiders), Forces of Entropy (Entropics). 

There are essentially three types of Acamoth: fresh from the Abyss awake and lingering in Twilight (fettered or unfettered to objects or people), slumbering earthbound exempted from the normal deterioration that form has on them, and those actively infecting Astral planes.

Form: This describes how the manifestation appears to senses both magical and mundane. The things of the Abyss are both canny and subtle (until they are not); they are almost never what they appear to be.  Think about applying the uncanny to the mundane, the drop in your stomach when something isn't right but you cannot put your finger on it. Their appearance is a shell, just a glove that things without form and substance in reality use to have a means to interact with that world.  They are things that do not exist, cannot exist. 

In the Abyss itself Abyssal entities are less restrictive inform and the subtle guises are usually dropped. In the Abyss what you see is a form your perceptions interpret for you when those limited perceptions face something without form.

Lovecraftian Forms: Don’t think about pantheons of strange elder beings, intelligences that project through time and the skein of our reality. That knowledge won’t help you here — there is altogether too much sense made of Lovecraft’s universe when viewed through such a perspective. I have used their names in my own Abyssal pantheon, but this doesn't mean that they make as much sense as Lovecraft intended them to have.  My pantheon doesn't help much (if at all) when dealing with lesser entities. Instead, narrow your focus to what is presented to his protagonists: strange, unearthly manifestations that are simply ripples of the cosmos impinging on our inconsequential world not out of some kind of maliciousness, but often because we are beneath notice. That is the Abyss.  It infects because it reflects and twists what it interacts with.  Some entities have malign intelligence, others just are.

Upon entering the Fallen World, all Abyssal entities gain the following additional traits:

Means of Passage: This describes the set of circumstances that permit the intruder access to the Fallen World, whether that be physical reality, Twilight, the Shadow or Astral realms.  Some are rarer, existing only in the Hedge or other liminal spaces.  Sources of entry include ancient secrets, forbidden lore, Paradox, summonings, cataclysmic/profane/dark epiphany, discovery, acts of extreme nihilism and rituals of deliberation.

Means of Intrusion: Each manifestation does different things once it has punctured the barrier between the Abyss and the Fallen World. This trait focuses on what the manifestation’s modus operandi is while there — the thing’s goals, and how it goes about achieving them. Consider mortal response (if any) one might expect.

Means of Exile: Likewise, not all Abyssal manifestations can be banished the same way. Certainly, some must be destroyed, but the means by which this can be accomplished vary widely for each such intruder. Consider how the entity can be studied or researched in order to allow for magical defense.  These Means of Exile can be managed using Bans and Banes... which can be obscure, strange and rare as fuck all. While these can be truly strange and obscure as all fuck, they still have something like these that can be exploited.

Acamoth: The Dreaming Madness
The face of the Abyss most familiar to mages in the Fallen World, the Acamoth are those Void-born spirits that somehow became trapped within the material realm between the sundering of the Ladder to Heaven and modern times. Some of these entities have lingered in fitful slumber for millennia, while others found a way down from the Abyss (or were called from it) and got stranded. The most ancient of these beings might never have truly dwelt within the void, at all, having become cut off from their “native” realm in the instant of its creation in the Fall.

The Acamoth constitute the overwhelming majority of the Abyss spirits with which mages interact, due to their relative nearness, if nothing else. Even while the Acamoth slumber, they influence the world around them, projecting their nightmares into minds and spirits, their very presence exuding a corruptive taint. Skilled investigators among the Awakened can often spot the clues that point to these earthbound

monstrosities, following their trail as readily as a hound tracks an elusive scent. Certainly, some seek the Acamoth to destroy them, but the majority of seekers have much different goals in mind. Among all of the ephemeral entities found in the Fallen World, none are so amenable to pacts and other binding agreements as the Acamoth, and few have such interesting gifts to offer.

Summoning the Earth-Bound Acamoth
Severed from the realm that gives them their identity, the Acamoth spend most of their time in the Fallen World held fast in the slumber of spirits. Perhaps they have, over their long imprisonment, become so much like the denizens of the Shadow Realm that they are now bound by many of the same laws. Regardless of the reasons, however, deliberately making contact with an Acamoth is no simple feat. A mage must overcome the inertia of sleep, passing through layers and layers of alien nightmares, just to get the entity to notice that someone is attempting to communicate with it; less forceful methods of contact are almost always simple dismissed by the spirit as one of an infinite number of odd details of
an endless horrific dream and forgotten nearly the instant that the attempt ceases. Even repeated messages are often ignored as patterns that temporarily spring up within an individual Acamoth’s nightmares.

Like a sleeping human who occasionally incorporates elements of half-sensed stimuli into her dreams, so, too, do the Acamoth sometimes dimly perceive that which transpires around them and experience the reflections of such in their slumber. Thus, the first task for any would-be summoner of Acamoth is to learn the specific protocols for waking one just enough to hold a meaningful conversation with it. A mage might be fortunate enough (or unfortunate, as the case may be) to find a wakeful Acamoth, but
he can’t count on that. It is likelier, by far, that his months — or even years — of painstaking research will point him at a quiescent monstrosity, trapped within its own ceaseless dreams, halfway between blasphemous life and endless death. These spirits are almost always located in largely inaccessible places, like salt caverns nearly a mile underground, under a dozen layers of mud and decaying matter at the bottom of a swamp, or in an Atlantean Diaspora-era ruin resting upon the floor of a scalding, sulfurous lake. Such entities simply aren’t found where life thrives, though the reasons are unclear. Some mages believe that the Acamoth create barrenness by their nature, while others think that these ghastly spirits, in their terrible wisdom, chose resting places where they would be only infrequently troubled, and then only by the very individuals with whom they would most wish to have dealings.

Finding the Acamoth is more a matter of skill and knowledge than luck. Many phenomena within the Fallen World create dark and unpleasant resonance, but the Abyssal taint of the Acamoth has its own
unique character, readily understood as such by those mages with experience in seeking out the spirits of the Void. Intelligence + Academics, Investigation, or Occult rolls are likely called for, with dots
of the Library Merit focused upon the Abyss, Acamoth, or similar subjects granting their customary benefits. 

Of course, knowing where an Acamoth sleeps and actually getting to it are two different tasks, entirely. More powerful willworkers might simply scry the resting place of an Abyssal spirit and teleport to it or otherwise use magic to ease the journey, but not all mages have access to such powers. Thus, some peril is often involved merely to reach the creature. Given the sometimes thousands of years during which the horrific madness of an Acamoth has had to leach into the very land around it, nature itself is sometimes turned against a seeker, as vicious beasts haunt her steps, paths twist in upon themselves, and the air becomes a poisonous vapor. If the spirit senses an Awakened visitor from within the weave of its eternal dreams, though, it often clears the way, welcoming the willworker into its resting-place for negotiations. 

Many mages just aren’t cut out for these dangerous ventures, however. Though every willworker is potential a scholar of the unknown, not all are adventurers and explorers; the sort of people often necessary to reach the subterranean tomb of an Acamoth. Other methods for contacting the Fallen World’s Voidspawned prisoners exist, though, allowing even the most retiring academe to barter with such beings for powers not meant for the earthly realm.

A less direct — though perhaps less complex — route than physical proximity involves tapping directly into the dreams of the Acamoth. Mages who wish to attempt this may use Mind 3 (almost certainly paired Sympathetic Magic, given the likelihood that the Acamoth is nowhere nearby) to reach out to the nightmares of the entity, once it has been located through the study of leylines, the perusal of old texts, or whatever other method. Instantly sensing the magical intrusion upon its thoughts, the Acamoth focuses its attention upon the interloper, opening a channel of communication. Certain willworkers claim to have made incredibly favorable deals with Acamoth deep in slumber, as their thoughts are simply too sluggish and hazy to bring their full alien brilliance to bear, though these stories are as likely as not rumors spread by Scelesti and similarly corrupted mages, hoping to ensnare others with the promise of easy gain.

As to the Accursed, some believe certain of their number are empowered to act as proxies for the Acamoth they serve, either setting up “appointments” (corporeal or telepathic) with their masters or facilitating the entire process of bargaining, from start to finish. While the latter tales are especially suspect, enough evidence exists of the former to make for a relatively reliable fact. Through Scelesti intermediaries, mages can effectively “summon” an Acamoth for a meeting. For those interested in going this route, it has the added benefit of requiring no particular degree of mystic prowess; the willworker need only make contact with one of the Accursed who happens to be bound to the service of a given Acamoth and he can contact that Acamoth, so long as the Scelestus is willing and able to do so.

Lastly, certain of the Acamoth realized long ago that their distance from the Awakened typically made for considerable difficulty in bargaining with them, and so they created (or got Awakened servants to create) means through which they might be contacted. Some inscribed strange tomes, penned in languages not meant for the human tongue or mind, while others crafted seals that need only be cracked to earn an audience, or archways that opened into the very chambers in which they were sealed away. Part and parcel with these means of communication were protocols to connect to some part of the Acamoth’s consciousness, that the spirit might present its many wares. Bargains with the Acamoth So, what, exactly, can a willworker get from dealing with the Acamoth?

Using nearly all these same methods, Acamoth active in the Astral Realms or the Fallen World can be contracted much easier (once you know how to do it) than a sleeping one.  They have far less shelf-life, the ravages of reality make their visits much more transient and less codified without active cultists and servants.  Those Acamoth in the Abyss require a failed Supernal Summoning to contact, severing the link to a Supernal Realm while the channel into the Supernal (and beyond) is still open.

Calling the Earthbound
Technically speaking, can it truly be called “summoning” when all a mage is doing is attempting to get the attention of something already dwelling in the Fallen World? Semantics aside, most Awakened who care to think on the prospect concede that magics intended to gain the notice of the Acamoth are, in fact,
acts of summoning, as the spirit must either be drawn to the mage’s location or — as is rather more likely — some portion of its consciousness must be invited to dwell within the willworkers soul/Onieros for a time.

Veteran summoners cite various criteria for
their claims: the standardized use of circles of
protection, for example, and other defensive
measures, as well as the possibility of forging
a pact with such an entity at the conclusion
of a bargaining process. Ultimately, however,
the distinctions are inconsequential, as the
spirits of the Void are just as dangerous when
called from deep beneath within the heart
of a mountain or the bottom of the sea as
when summoned out of the dead heart of the
Abyss, itself.



First of all, Acamoth, no matter their power, are capable
of offering Investments to those willing to bargain with them. Even
the feeblest such spirit is able to offer any mage one
year’s respite from the ravages of time, for instance, in
exchange for the freedom to use that mage’s Oneiros as
a temporary gateway to the Abyss. It is only through
long familiarity with the Fallen World that Abyssal
beings gain the knowledge and understanding necessary
to make this journey, making Investments unique
to the Acamoth; though the Gulmoth are, quite often,
stronger in terms of raw power, they lack the requisite
conversance with the nature of the terrestrial realm
to perform these particular manipulations of the human
form and spirit.

Some Acamoth — those that were stranded in the
Fallen World during the collapse of the Celestial Ladder
— possess lore that dates back to the time of the
Atlantean Diaspora and most are certainly willing to
part with the information, provided that the price is
right. One shred of occult knowledge is essentially as
meaningless to the Acamoth as another, though most
are aware that the Awakened highly prize particularly
ancient secrets, so they bargain particularly dearly
in such a case. Despite this, however, the occasional
willworker even walks away feeling that what he
gained was worth the steep cost of an Acamoth’s
teachings.

Other Acamoth have accrued small stockpiles of
treasure and astral items over the millennia: Artifacts and Enhanced
and Imbued Items, as well as grimoires, spirit fetishes,
and other enchanted relics. On top of this, some hold
entirely more mundane objects of great value, such as
the journals of Archmasters or tablets inscribed with
lost dialects of the High Speech. Some, according to
their natures, hoard wealth with which they might
tempt the Awakened to service and gladly dole out
gold, silver, and precious gems to those who submit
to the will of the Acamoth. Indeed, whole cabals of
Scelesti have financed their works throughout the ages
solely upon the riches held in trust by a half-sleeping
spirit of the Void.

Naturally, many of the Accursed worship or otherwise
revere the Acamoth, making such entities a
ready source of disreputable labor. Some Scelesti are
so irresistibly conditioned by the monsters to which
they kneel as to be virtually incapable of disobedience.
A Scelestus’ soul is, of its very nature, a less desirable
prize than that of a willworker not yet seduced
into the service of the Abyss; thus, an Acamoth will
venture its human resources in a calculated gambit to
win the fealty of one not yet swayed to the thrall of
the Void. For mages looking to have enemies wiped
out, commodities stolen, or other shady activities
undertaken for their benefit, an Acamoth can offer
much, sending its Awakened soldiers forth to attend
the will of the summoner.
No matter what a mage requests, however, the
Acamoth almost always asks for its customary price:
the freedom to use the mage’s soul for an Astral
journey, through the Oneiros and the Temenos, and,
from there, into past the furthest reaches of the Astral
Realm and into the Abyss, itself, there to drag just a
tiny measure of the Void back to the Fallen World.
Unless a mage can offer something vastly preferable
to this all-consuming drive, no Acamoth will settle
for anything less, and most are decidedly less than
pleased to be roused by a willworker who doesn’t even
understand how the process works. Certainly, mages
have been died for less.

Soul Disintegration
After the first two or three times that a mage grants
an Acamoth the power to use her soul as a bridge to
the Void, why doesn’t she do it all the time? After
all, repetition of almost any heinous act eventually
anesthetizes a person to the moral consequences and
repugnance of such deeds. The answer to this question
is known to many of those who fancy themselves
scholars of the Abyss and its ways a “soul disintegration”;
literally, a process by which the Awakened
spirit becomes metaphysically riddled with small tears
that render it increasingly unusable by an Acamoth
for the purposes of a journey through the Astral Realm
and back to the Abyss.
Each year, a willworker can allow an Acamoth to
“ride” her soul up through the Astral Realms a number
of times equal to her Gnosis dots without other
deleterious consequences (other than the simple
act of bargaining with an Abyssal entity, anyway).
This represents the overall wear and tear on the
Awakened spirit inherent to the Acamoth’s misuse
of the mage’s soul. For each time thereafter within a
single 12 month period that the willworker permits
an Acamoth to use her soul as a conduit back to the
Void, she incurs a cumulative –1 penalty to all die
rolls pertaining to magic, whether rote or improvised.
By spending a permanent dot of Willpower, the mage
can stave off this penalty for a single journey (or
prevent the penalty from worsening, if she is already
suffering from one); this dot may be repurchased at

the cost of eight experience points. When the mage’s
spellcasting penalty is equal to the lesser of her Gnosis
or Willpower, an Acamoth can no longer use her as
a conduit to the Abyss (and will, therefore, almost
certainly refuse her its services, unless she has something
better to offer).
Each year (counting as every 12 months, to the day,
from the time of her first bargain with an Acamoth),
provided the willworker has not exceeded her Investment
tolerance (whether by engaging in a number
of such bargains equal to or less than her Gnosis, or
by spending enough dots of Willpower to completely
prevent the accrual of spellcasting penalties), this total
resets. If the mage has accrued spellcasting penalties
within a given 12-month period, one point of penalty
fades for each full year (again, each full 12 month
anniversary of her first Abyssal Investment) during
which she refrains from gaining Investments. During
this time, her annual Investment tolerance drops by
a number equal to her current spellcasting penalty,
to a minimum of zero.
For example, a mage with three dots of Gnosis
who gains her first five Investments within a single
12 month period – without spending permanent dots
of Willpower to extend her tolerance – gains a –1
penalty to all spellcasting rolls (rote or improvised)
as of the fourth Investment and a –2 penalty as
of the fifth. Upon the one-year anniversary of the
willworker’s first Investment, the total number of
Investments that she can “safely” gain during the next
12 months drops to one (her Gnosis of three, minus
two for her current spellcasting penalty). Should the
mage manage to restrain herself from bargaining with
the Acamoth more than one Investment during the
course of those 12 months, then her penalty drops
to –1 during the subsequent 12-month period. If the
mage’s Gnosis increases at all during this time, then
her subsequent tolerance increases accordingly, but
not retroactively.
Other Awakened who glimpse a mage currently
suffering from spellcasting penalties as a result of toofrequent
Investment bargains with Acamoth with the
Death 1 “Soul Marks” spell (Mage: The Awakening,
p. 135) note a feeling of raw, ragged wounds of uncertain
origin upon her spirit. Those who look upon
her with the Prime 1 “Supernal Vision” spell (Mage:
The Awakening, p. 211) see fraying at the edges of
her aura; the greater spellcasting penalty, the greater
the apparent damage. A Tremere lich attempting
to sustain himself on the soul of a mage whose soul
disintegration spellcasting penalties meet or exceed
her current Gnosis finds that her spirit is no more
sustaining than that of a Sleeper.

Calling to the Void 
As powerful and versatile as the abilities of the
Acamoth may be, most of these creatures are still cut
off from the majority of their unnatural might and can
offer only certain gifts to those willing to deal with
them; thus, a few Awakened turn to the practice of
summoning down those spirits still dwelling within
the Void. Known as the Gulmoth, these dread beings
slither in through tears in the seams of the Tapestry, a

form of free passage offered to them by mages whose
desires outstrip their good sense.
Summoning down the Abyss is, easily, one of the
most profoundly dangerous things that a willworker
can do and, yet, time and again, the Awakened prove
willing to do just that. Certainly, many Scelesti are
willing to taint their already-degraded souls with
the stench of the Void, but what might surprise the
Awakened are the numbers of seemingly upstanding
willworkers who meddle with these powers. Whether
to learn forgotten lore or to destroy an otherwise unassailable
enemy, some few mages of the Pentacle (as
well as Apostates, Seers of the Throne, and others)
turn to the unspeakable, carving forgotten names
into the flesh of the innocent and burning the salt
harvested from the tears of starving children to earn
audiences with things that should not be.
The Ritual Summoning from the Abyss is actually quite easy,
provided the mage in question has no desire for
subtlety or control: accrue enough Paradox from
casting vulgar magics and a Manifestation will eventually
appear. This approach leaves a great deal to
be desired, however, as such entities are inherently
unruly and commonly show up with no agenda more
elaborate than spiteful mayhem. Certainly, some of
them are interested in making deals, but a willworker
can’t count on getting an Abyssal tempter, rather
than a ravening engine of destruction. Furthermore,
mages cannot simply banish these beings when their
presence is no longer desired; the Manifestation
subsides only in its own good time, or when the
spirit is forcefully banished.
In order to deliberately call out to a spirit of the Void
in a safer (though by no means particularly safe) and
more controlled manner, a mage much unlearn much of
what she knows about magic. Awakened spells employ
the power of the Realms Supernal, through a tenuous
connection that wends its way through the Abyss. The
trick to calling down the Gulmoth and their ilk lies
in “disconnecting” the Supernal link of Awakened
magic partway through its journey, metaphysically
creating a temporarily ladder down which such an
entity might scale, into the Fallen World. Lusting, as
they do, for contact with this realm, Abyssal beings will
almost certainly accept the tacit invitation, though
a mage must be extremely careful in doing so, should
she wish to exert any degree of influence whatsoever
over the type (and overall power) of the spirit that
answers the summons.
The problem with this process is that the Awakened
soul is meant to be a vessel for the Supernal, not the
Abyss, and that it is uniquely unsuited to the task;
effectively, the every instinct of the mage’s spirit
recoils from the possibility of direct contact with
the Void and she must devote much of her energy to
overcoming her soul’s natural aversion to the attempt.
Her knowledge of the Arcana avails her nothing in
such a casting, for what she seeks has nothing to do
with the Watchtowers. Her rotes cannot benefit her,
as no earthly knowledge resonates with the powers
with which she seeks audience. Thus, a mage who
wishes to perform a ritualized Abyssal summoning
rolls only her Gnosis, her raw mystic will.
This is an extended action, requiring an hour
per roll and five successes per Rank of the spirit
to be summoned, through Rank 5 spirits. Beyond
that constraint, a mage is not limited to calling an
Abyssal entity of any particular Rank; such spirits
will gladly come for any Awakened soul that calls
out to them. The Gulmoth long for the pains and
pleasures of the Fallen World and, upon following
the bridge offered by a mage’s soul (through this
process and this process alone), enter into this
realm physically incarnate, without the need for an
appropriate Numen. Effectively, the mage’s desire to
interact with the entity is an invitation that grants
it license to take on corporeal form for the duration
of its interactions with the willworker in question.
Some believe that the process is similar to that used
by Acamoth who “ride” a mage’s Awakened soul
through an Astral journey to the Abyss; that the
mage tacitly allows the entity to make use of her
power in a specific manner through the very act of
summoning a Gulmoth.
Naturally, though, more than just the will to call
down the Void is necessary. Mages must align the summoning
space with Abyssal correspondences, items
that resonate with the mad, stillborn cosmos that roils
between the Fallen and the Supernal. Perhaps the
creatures of the Abyss desire a “comfortable” space
in which to arrive in the Fallen World or, maybe,
they simply cannot enter this realm in the absence of
certain procedures to create an inauspicious environment
through a polluted flow of subtle energies. Those
Awakened capable of discerning such things typically
report that ley lines are soured in the wake of Abyssal
summonings, though it is — in most cases — difficult
to say whether the process of defilement began before
or during the ritual. (The symbols, ideas, and objects
aligned with Paths and orders, above, are just as useful

in this respect for summoning the Gulmoth into the
Fallen World as they are for calling out, across it, to
the Acamoth.)
Physical relics of Paradox are often suitable for the
purpose of “consecrating” a ritual space for use in an
Abyssal summoning: material taken from the area
of an Anomaly, the remains of someone killed by
Havoc, even a few shreds of unnaturally preserved
carcass from a slain Manifestation. Not all mages can
get ready access to these sorts of things (not without
deliberately incurring Paradox and chancing a Manifestation,
anyway, which largely ruins the point of
the exercise), so other methods are often called for.
Objects, places, and acts that carry the taint of madness,
sickness, betrayal, horror, destruction, death,
and the like call to the Abyss and its denizens are
readily drawn to the savor of such pleasant fare. In
certain cases, areas carry a sympathetic connection
to the Void; perhaps an Abyssal intruder incarnated
there or a powerful Scelestus resided there for many
years. Would-be Abyssal summoners cannot typically
count on the “good fortune” of finding such a locale,
unattended and ready for use.
Mages are capable of augmenting somewhat their
ability to call out to the things of the Void in a (relatively)
safe manner. Willworkers of particular low
Wisdom (1 or 2) gain a bonus die on the extended
Gnosis roll to summon Abyssal spirits. Mages may
also sacrifice to the Abyss to gain bonus dice for a
single roll in the extended action. By sacrificing a
living creature (as per the rules given on p. 78 of
Mage: The Awakening), the willworker may gain
bonus dice in place of points of Mana. He must
either take bonus dice or Mana from the sacrifice;
the process only allows for one or the other. Note,
however, that this is the deliberate act of ending lives
in the name of the Void. Regardless of a character’s
intentions in doing so, this is Left-Handed willwork
in its truest form. Objects and locations associated
with such a sacrifice inevitably take on a hideous
resonance and even those otherwise faithful to the
path of Wisdom often find their auras stained by so
heinous a deed.
Conversely, a mage of exceptionally high Wisdom
— 9 or 10 (though what such a willworker would
be doing calling down creatures from the Abyss is
questionable, at best) — suffers a one-die penalty to
his extended Gnosis roll; the Void recoils from the
purity of his spirit and his very soul rebels against
such unholy magics. Of course, practicing Abyssal
summonings is a sure way for a mage of such profound
Wisdom to fall from his high perch and the Gulmoth
invariably do all that they can to encourage in such a
willworker the belief that they aren’t so bad; that they
are victims of the Fall, as much as any other creature
from among the many realms. In a way, unfortunately,
the Gulmoth speak the truth in this respect, which
makes their words all the more dangerous for the
pure of heart to hear, for to be moved by them is to
embrace the end of Wisdom.
As to what must be done to call down beings of
Rank 6 or greater, none can say for certain, as it is
doubtful that more than a bare handful of such stillborn
gods have tread the Earth in the ages between
the Fall and the present day. A scant few texts speak
of the ritual sacrifice of scores of lives, Awakened
souls obliterated by unspeakable acts of sorcery, the
creation of Paradoxes so vast and elaborate that they
sustain themselves for a thousand years, and similarly
heinous perversions of magic. Furthermore, these
are among the tamest of the unholy rites alluded-to
by those that dare to speak, at all, of the prospect of
inviting into this reality such Gulmoth, anathema to
all that which is and will ever be.
The Risks Bargaining with the Void is, at best, a tremendously
iffy proposition. Mages have met horrific ends for
having truck with such powers, and not always at
the hands of the creatures they call down from the
Abyss. Almost every mage of the Pentacle Orders

(and many Apostates, Seers of the Throne, and even
Banishers) are violently opposed to trafficking with
the creatures of the Abyss and a significant number
of them will simply “shoot to kill” when confronted
by a mage who practices those sorts of summonings.
The Adamantine Arrow, Guardians of the Veil, and
the Silver Ladder are particularly harsh and unyielding
in their persecution of those who converse with
the denizens of the Void.
Of course, the foremost peril of Abyssal summonings
is to be found in the otherworldly powers, themselves.
The Gulmoth are not to be trifled with; even when
summoned according to all of the proper rites and
arcane formulae, such beings definitively intend
harm toward those who call them. It is simply their
nature. They hate and desire to violate and destroy.
Willworkers who offer them passage into the Fallen
World make for convenient targets and it is only
through a profound measure of restraint — engendered
by an understanding that sparing one soul today may
enable a given Gulmoth to devour two, tomorrow —
that such entities manage to hold their instinctual
urges in check.
That said, the Gulmoth typically try their best —
within their intrinsically hostile frame of reference,
anyway — to put on a relatively friendly face when
called to the Fallen World through the use of the proper
rites and incantations. A spirit that pounces on the first
human it sees might get called back again, but mages
are quite good at gathering information and it’s only
a matter of time until some enterprising summoner
realizes that calling that particular Gulmoth down is a
sure way to die. So, in the interests of preserving what
credentials they have with the Awakened, most such
entities curb their savage hungers and their hateful
lusts, and allow those who call to them to be destroyed
of their own accord; preferably with the very things
that they wish for. While not as viscerally satisfying,
many of the creatures of the Void (those with interested
in being regularly called into the Fallen World
to barter with willworkers, at any rate) are capable
of cultivating at least enough of a façade of patience
to rein in their “natural” behaviors.

On A Rampage
So, why don’t Acamoth and Gulmoth go
on nightmarish killing sprees when called?
Many of them are certainly powerful enough
to break through the wards and bindings that
the average mage can erect, leaving one to
wonder what holds them back? The most obvious
answer is, sometimes, “Nothing at all.”
On occasion, a willworker has the singular
misfortune of calling down some horrid avatar
of fury, desirous only of the opportunity to
murder the world. Such malevolent entities
typically leave a swath of destruction in their
wake, until such a time as mages, Fallen
World spirits, or other powers can somehow
manage to destroy, imprison, or otherwise
incapacitate the fiend.
In other cases, though, Acamoth and Gulmoth
are better behaved; not because they
wish to be, but instead because they have
an understanding of the consequences of
not doing so. Self-preservation does not rank
highly on the list of priorities for most Abyssal
beings, but the chance to spread misery, suffering,
horror, and the like on a greater scale
than mere slaughter is a powerful motivating
factor for many such creatures. Perhaps, in
earlier ages of the Fallen World, the threat of
death and the spectacles of its aftermath was
enough to incite the passions cherished by the
Void, but humanity is simply far too jaded,
now, by the atrocities that it inflicts upon
itself, every day.
Thus, the majority of these creatures act
their proper part in the Faustian dramas for
which mages call out to them, for they perceive
in these summons the possibility of far
greater and more telling damage to the Fallen
World. An old proverb admonishes: give a
man a fish and he’ll eat for a day; teach him
to fish, and he’ll eat for a lifetime. The subtler
approach — more patient and nuanced — is
the Void’s answer to teaching the human race
to fish. Killing a few people and tearing down
a small fragment of the material realm is
viscerally satisfying for Abyssal spirits, to be
sure, but so much more satisfying, is it, to encourage
willworkers in the very pursuits that
most extensively and fundamentally damage
the Tapestry in its entirety.

Envoys and Inhabitants
No explanation of the Scelesti would be complete without a
survey of the Abyss’ denizens. Not all Scelesti habitually summon
these beings, but most will encounter them many times
over the course of their twisted lives. The Void-born feel closer
to the Wicked than any other beings from the worlds of Law—
they might even talk to them before they inflicting atrocities.
Accursed mages use them as hunting beasts, familiars, tutors,
objects of worship, and occasionally lovers.
Enemies of the Void take comfort in knowing that its inhabitants
wither upon the shores of ordered reality. Storytellers
should treat most Abyssal denizens as spirits (see the Mage:
The Awakening core book, pp. 317-322) with one important
difference: They cannot sustain themselves with the Essence
that flows through the Fallen World’s spiritual ecosystem.
A few weaker entities might be slain by force feeding them
Shadow-born or ghostly Essence, but for the most part, they’re
just unable to “digest” it. The Fallen World’s Essence obeys
patterns an Abyssal being can mock and mimic, but never
truly symbolize. The Void-born cannot drink joy, feel the
rush of the lion’s kill, or survive on the simple vengeance a
ghost radiates


Summoned entities cannot permanently invade the world—
but sometimes, they arrange visits lasting weeks, years or eons.
Cults, Abyssal Verges and mighty spells might extend these
beings’ earthly (or Shadow-dwelling) lifespan. These circumstances
usually mutate local Resonance to make it palatable
to Abyssal guests. Affected creatures, objects, and places suffer
unnatural changes, beyond even those that could be wrought
by an angry ghost or native spirit. Haunted houses develop
non-Euclidean features. Trees shed tin leaves. Psychic traumas
unhinge cultists; Abyssal gods feed on their dreams. Scelestus
“gardeners” usually maintain these broken places but some
appear of their own accord, such as when an anti-natural
intruder has already claimed a foothold.
These limitations may not apply to Annunaki and other
great powers, but they too cannot casually break the walls
of Law. They require mad messiahs and portentous events:
things which the Accursed strive to provide.
In the Cursed Earth: Acamoth Besides manifested Paradoxes, acamoth are the easiest Abyssal
natives to encounter. Accordingly, they’re detailed on pp.
322-323 of the Mage: The Awakening core rulebook. The
acamoth listed there is a typical example of its kind; stronger
and weaker varieties exist. Despite their inability to consume
worldly Essence, the oldest prisoners tend to be the strongest.
Abyssal Verges and grand summons used to occur more,
but as mages learned of the Abyss’ dangers and abandoned
the old rites, they left their gods and servants to rest in the
world or inhabit eldritch artifacts. The greatest acamoth arrived
when the world trembled after the Celestial Ladder’s
fall and the newly manifested Void caressed the edges of the
Material Plane.
Every acamoth seeks a path back to the Abyss but lacks the
psychic energy to penetrate Astral reality’s layers. Fortunately,
mages’ souls reach across the Void when they draw down
spells and are capable of journeying to the edge of the psychic
universe. A properly prepared sorcerer is an ideal vehicle. Once
it finds an accomplice, the acamoth floods her dreams with
visions of the Abyss to both attune her soul and to use it to
channel its Essence. In return, the entity rewards its “familiar”
with short-lived powers known as Investments. Mages do not
know exactly what allows an acamoth to sustain itself during
its imprisonment, but most believe that they fall into a form of
hibernation until an opportunity to escape presents itself.
Manifestations: Gulmoth Some Abyssal beings wait in the earth, but an infinite
number populate the Void itself. Sorcerers usually summon
these gulmoth accidentally as Paradox Manifestations. Only
Scelesti possess easy access to techniques able to deliberately
call them, but even then, they don’t perform the majority of
these rituals.
Despite their taboos, other mages seek gulmoth out to demand
their services. The intruders do not provide Investments
as acamoth do, but offer potent, specialized boons connected
to the faces they show the world. Every boon levies a tithe. A
gulmoth might arrange for the mage to find love, but force
him to mutilate competing suitors.
Like conventional spirits, gulmoth also possess bans that
restrain their behavior and offer hope of getting out of a
bad bargain. Most occult texts either leave the ban out or lie
about it. Scelesti usually transmit such information through
oral traditions instead.
The Abyss is a chaotic realm, yet sorcerers note that gulmoth
manifest consistent identities, appearances and powers. Lists
of gulmoth names, rites, and attributes populate grimoires
devoted to Abyssal summoning. Even the Accursed are not
certain why gulmoth appear to be such stable entities, but
the most popular theory posits that they project a seeming
constrained by their method of arrival. The Void seeps
through nonetheless, adding strange, maddening aspects to
their forms. A gulmoth hound might shed burning ectoplasm
and teleport out of the right angles of rooms.
When summoned by a Paradox Manifestation, the gulmoth
organizes its shape around a spell’s intent. The Abyss extrudes
a hungry, tentacled cat-thing from the seed of an errant Life
rote, for example. In the case of summoning rites, the mage’s
structured desire creates a vessel to be filled, then distorted.
A more sinister notion holds that the gulmoth are not really
independent beings, but are woven together by the Great
Dreamers to explore the world of Law, like the living lures of
angler fish. No matter the truth, a conjured gulmoth never
lasts forever, fading back into the Abyss.
Gulmoth include the Manifestation Paradoxes found on
p. 273 of the Mage: The Awakening core rulebook. In addition,
every gulmoth possesses one or more Boons (services),
Tithes (required payments for Boons, which the being may
be able to forcibly claim) and spiritual Bans connected to its
apparent nature. The supplement Summoners also describes
gulmoth in detail, listing several such entities.
The Storyteller might allow sorcerers to call gulmoth with
antinomian Death and Spirit spells. These spells function
normally, except that the affected spirit or ghost mutates
into the desired gulmoth, which then manifests its standard
powers.

Dwellers at
the Threshold: Qliphoth
Some mages seek the Imperial Mysteries beyond Mastery.
They crawl through the Abyss, hoping to incarnate in the
Supernal Realms alongside Gods and Ascended ones.
In that dark hour, surrounded by the Void, some fail.
The Void finds a use for them as living traps and warnings
to those who would challenge the babbling emptiness
beyond being. They are Qliphoth: mighty sorcerers who were
consumed, hollowed out, and filled with impossible energies.
Unlike other entities, Qliphoth may wander the Tellurian
freely, walking from place to place along fragments of their

souls. To mundane eyes, a Dweller at the Threshold looks
like an ordinary human—perhaps a madman, raving about
invisible phenomena. Under the Mage Sight, a Qliphoth
looks like a walking hole in the cosmos.
Qliphoth seem to be drawn to important events related
to the Abyss, such as new Verges and unearthed grimoires.
If they truly act on behalf of the Annunaki, they don’t demonstrate
it through straightforward action. They lurk at the
scene and provide cryptic clues about the meaning of their
visit. Sometimes they tempt mages into casting spells in their
presence. This is a catastrophic mistake.
Each Qliphoth carries a world within it, though
few will suffer the misfortune of experiencing
it. This spiritual black hole contains the
former sorcerer’s past Paradoxes and Abyssal
encounters. When a sorcerer casts a
vulgar spell in the Qliphoth’s presence,
its Paradox traps her in its soul-realm.
Nothing short of archmastery can rescue
the victim, but she might be able to
save herself by solving riddles within the
soul-shell. It is said that if a sorcerer can
comprehend the true cause of a Qliphoth’s
damnation, she’ll escape its clutches. Most
do not succeed, suffering eternal torture at the
hands of the Dweller’s lingering Paradoxes. Some Wicked mystics
believe the Dur-Abzu evolved from the strongest Qliphoth
of each Path as their soul-realms grew with prisoners.
Certain Scelesti worship the Qliphoth. Willing or not,
they entered a communion with the Abyss greater than even
most Accursed would dare. A few willingly enter a Dweller
at the Threshold’s personal universe to learn an esoteric secret
from the Qliphoth or its prisoners, some of whom may
have survived from the days of Atlantis. Ancient grimoires,
mystic artifacts and mighty spirits might all be found within
a single soul.
Beyond the descriptions above, no special rules govern
the Qliphoth, as nothing short of archmastery can forcibly
affect them or their soul realms. Less powerful beings must
endure imprisonment when they trigger it, solve the riddles
put before them, and escape—or spend the remainder of their
days within a very strange, dangerous chronicle.

Abyssal Text from Summoner's book

List types of Abyssals I've invented

- Shoggoth

- Chatterers

- The Soulless