Bestowal of Serpentine Digits, A Transformative Spell

Description:  A moderately complex spell involving elaborate gestures and posturing, a sibilant evocation, and powdered snake scales as ritual focus.  Most spellcasters of the Third Circle can manage it, although more elderly practitioners may find the motions involved are hard on joints stiffened with age.  As such, it has something of a reputation for being a magic for young and dashing types.

Effects: The Bestowal of Serpentine Digits can be cast in one of two ways.  First, it may be used on either the caster or an ally whose hand they can grasp.  This causes a transformation that turns the fingers and thumb of one hand into wriggling poisonous serpents about twice the length of their normal digits.  The altered hand can no longer be used to grasp or carry objects, but it allows an unarmed melee attack at a +10% accuracy bonus to strike.  On a hit, the target takes piercing damage equal to a dagger thrust and must attempt to resist the serpents' poison.  If they fail to do so, the victim is left weak and shaky for about five minutes, suffering a 50% reduction in their speed and melee damage, and a 25% failure rate on attack rolls and any feats of strength or dexterity attempted.

Second, the spell may be placed on any object the caster can lift in one hand.  This places a curse on the object that will be triggered by the next creature to handle it unless a password (established during casting) is spoken.  This curse causes a similar transformation to the one above, but the serpents attack the victim rather than being under their control, biting at any body part within reach.  Use the victim's own attack chance with the same +10% chance to strike.  If allies of the victim attempt to physically restrain the cursed hand they'll suffer the same attack instead (choose randomly if several people are wrestling with the serpents at once).

In both cases, an attempt resist the magic can be made when the transformation begins (although the first casting mode is generally used only on willing targets, who forego their resistance).  The transformation lasts until 1d6+3 melee attacks have been made or until about five minutes have passed, whichever comes first.  A cursed item can be triggered until the next sunrise or sunset, at which point the magic fades and the item is safe to handle again without use of the password.  Suitable countermagic can end the spell early as usual.

Possible Origins: The formula for this magic can be traced to the prehistoric serpent-folk civilization, and was originally recovered from some of their ruins by adventurers.  It remains somewhat obscure, in part because the archivists who maintain most arcane libraries tend to be of advanced years and regard the spell as undignified (and uncomfortable) to cast.

Complications:  You've got snakes for fingers on (presumably) half of your hands for about five minutes, or until their venom is drained during combat.  This can be inconvenient, and prevents any spellcasting that requires gesturing with both hands.  It's also likely to evoke comment from bystanders, and you may be suspected of being some kind of horrible mutant or shapeshifting serpent monster.

Design Commentary:  Most casters will probably prefer to use the "cursed object" mode rather than engaging in melee themselves.  You can absolutely pull shenanigans like (having said the password yourself earlier so it's safe for you to hold) handing a cursed coin to an unsuspecting victim, so its utility goes well beyond just protecting your wallet or setting static traps.  As long as a creature touches the object with their hand the magic will trigger, but watch out for (say) things with manipulatory tentacles or pincers.

Some other characters might actually get an upgrade in effectiveness by hitting things with a handful of snakes rather than a sword.  The poison effect is a really strong debuff, even if won't directly kill a target (although a bunch of snakebites might).  Things that are immune or resistant to poison are much harder to deal with, of course.  If you have this spell cast on you more than once you can attack with each transformed hand once per round, and if you somehow have more than two hands you can benefit from separate castings on all of them.

Grandmother's Candies, Magically Delicious Treats

Grandmother's Candies

Description:  Brightly colored hard candies shaped like various vermin - mice, moles, spiders, slugs and snails, and a whole selection of peculiar beetles.  Roll 2d6 to see how many individual pieces there are, then roll that number of d8s to see which types are found.  Then roll the dice again to see what color each candy is, but honestly they all taste the same regardless - a bit like black licorice, if you must know.

Shape                  Color

1- Mouse             Red

2 - Mole               Pink

3 - Spider             Orange

4 - Slug                Yellow

5 - Snail               Green

6 - Bat                  Blue

7 - Beetle              Purple

8 - Big Beetle       Black 

Magical senses reveal nothing of the true nature of these things, although their unusual shape may well cause suspicion.  Some places have traditions about making regular candies that are visually identical.  Others have laws forbidding that sort of foolishness.

Powers:  Any creature that voluntarily places a piece of candy in their mouth is instantly transformed into a normal specimen of the appropriate type of vermin until the next sunrise.  A test to resist magic is allowed if desired.  The transformed creature retains its own mind and memories, although it may find its new body confusing at first.  Unlike some transformative magics any possessions are left unchanged, usually leaving a pile of clothes and gear with some verminous critter perched atop it.

The magic in these candies won't function if they're thrown, dropped, or forced into an unwilling victim's mouth, nor will licking trigger them.  They do function if they're accidentally eaten by an unsuspecting individual (perhaps hidden within other foodstuffs) but a resistance roll is still allowed.  If some greedy pig shoves several of them in at once, roll randomly to see which of the pieces decides the form of vermin, while the rest are simply wasted.  Only one save is made in this case, although if you consumed them one at a time you'd resist them one after another till you fail.

The candies can be dissolved, broken, or melted as though they were mundane treats, but their magic will be ruined in the process.     

Possible Origins:  Witches.  Of course it's witches.  Rumor claims Grandmother herself first created them, but she gets credit (or blame) for a lot of things.  Actual witches do sometimes share the alchemical recipe for these things, and some hedge wizards and mystic hermits can make them as well.  They require more than a little fresh human blood to make, which can be a problem.  With a few willing donors you could make a few on a sustainable basis, or you could bleed someone dry and get enough for couple of dozen.  On the plus side, they keep forever as long as they don't get wet or slowly devoured by ants or something.  

Complications:  Whoever eats one of these things is stuck in a tiny, fragile physical form till dawn.  If the transformation came as a surprise this can easily be a fatal experience.  Just carrying such candies around can lead to some difficult questions, since there are plenty of stories about them being handed out to children by the evil-hearted on All Hallows' Eve.  More adult (and plausible) tales speak of wily spies and thieves using them to infiltrate strongholds and treasure rooms and the like.

There's also the small possibility that Grandmother is directly involved in making these things.  If so, stumbling across one of her "Special Batches" is always a possibility, and they'll have very different effects indeed.

Design Commentary:  Potentially a great tool for sneaking into places you shouldn't be or escaping pursuit, but risky since you'll be stuck in a form where a bird or housecat could be a lethal danger till the sun rises.  The candies do work just fine if you happen to be carrying one or more of them when swallowed by some monstrous creature, which (assuming they fail their save) will leave them transformed and you covered in toothmarks and saliva but otherwise none the worse for wear.

Moonbrighten, A System-Agnostic Spell

Moonbrighten

Description:  A simple incantation that can only be spoken in the light of the moon.  Alternately, it can be cast upon a single silver coin or disc, no more than two inches across.  Most experienced casters can master the spell, although it's beyond mere apprentices.

Effects: Moonbrighten has two possible effects, depending on which casting option is chosen.  If cast on a suitable piece of silver, that object shines with the light of a full moon as seen on a clear night.  This illuminates as well as a mundane lantern without generating heat and cannot be extinguished (although it can be covered up, hiding the glow).  The light has the same effects as the actual full moon would for all purposes, including were creatures, certain fey, and magical writings that can only be read under moonlight.

If cast without using a silver focus under the light of the moon, that light will be multiplied threefold everywhere within one hundred paces of the caster.  Depending on the phase of the moon and intervening cloud cover the effect varies somewhat, but even the very smallest crescent will be as bright as a full moon under similar weather conditions, while a half moon is nearly as bright as day.  A full moon will be so bright its dazzlingly painful to look upon, and weres and similar creatures will not only be forced into their animal or hybrid forms, they receive a 25% bonus to any damage inflicted by them while taking 25% less damage from all sources except silver.  Other creatures with lunar associations may be driven into bouts of manic activity or seem to be drunken while under this augmented moonlight.  Depending on the nature and inclinations of such creatures they may either flee the zone of the spell or seek to remain in it, perhaps even abducting the caster to ensure they stay in the light as long as possible.

Both effects last until moonset or sunrise, whichever comes first.  The death of the caster has no effect unless their body is utterly destroyed.

Possible Origins: This magic almost certainly began as a prayer to one of the lunar deities, although which one varies from culture to culture.  It can be used by almost anyone capable of employing magic, either arcane or divine, the exceptions being those who've somehow earned the disfavor of such a deity and, surprisingly, any were creature.  The latter can learn the charm but attempting to speak it sears their tongue like licking silver and spoils the spell.

Complications:  Triggering were-creature transformations or attracting some fey creatures are the main risks, but flooding an area with brilliant moonlight may annoy people who are trying to sleep.  The enhanced light doesn't scatter or reflect beyond the bounds of the spell, so people beyond that area most likely won't notice it was cast.  The center of the spell effect isn't obvious, so people or creatures trying to locate the caster may have some hunting to do, especially if moving rapidly.

Toothsome Curse, A System-Agnostic Spell

Toothsome Curse

Description:  A brief but but potent incantation calling an unusual curse upon one creature within earshot.  As with many curses the caster may end the magic at will, usually in exchange for some service or payment by the victim or their allies.  Otherwise the spell persists for seven days and seven nights, or until stronger counter-magic dispels it.   

Effects:  The target of this spell must be able to hear (but not necessarily understand) the caster and may attempt to resist the curse when it is first laid upon them (in D&D save vs. spells, or a Will save).  For the duration of the curse the target exudes a wonderful but indescribable aroma that can be detected by human senses out to about 30 feet, and much farther for creatures with a better sense of smell.  Any creature that can perceive this odor will be aware that the target would make a supernaturally tasty meal.  There's no actual compulsion to act on this knowledge, but animals will generally try to devour (or at least gnaw on) the victim, and even intelligent entities may be sorely tempted to take a bite or at least a quick lick.

Creatures without a sense of smell (most constructs and elementals, many undead, some aberrations, etc.) are unaffected by the odor, although they can be so cursed themselves.  Concealing the odor is difficult as even the strongest perfumes will only drown it out 50% of the time (check every minute or so while within range) and once "scented" by a creature they'll be convinced of the victim's extreme palatability thereafter.  Strong winds and similar weather conditions may affect detection ranges.  The victim cannot perceive the magical scent itself, nor do they taste more appealing than normal to their own senses.

Possible Origins:  This quirky curse is often credited to Grandmother although it seems rather petty for an entity of her reputation.  It seems more likely that some hedge wizard or druid came up with it long, long ago.  The spell is little-known amongst urban spellcasters (where it tends to mostly attract vermin and the odd homophage) but fairly common among those who live more rural lifestyles (where more dangerous beasts like wolves, bears, and less natural monsters dwell). 

Complications:  Like many curses, the target may resort to violence to force the caster to end the spell early, although its relatively subtle effect may not make it immediately apparent that an actual curse has been laid.  Creatures attracted by the victim's scent are not under the control of the caster, and may endanger other beings nearby or even fight among each other to get at the curse's tasty target.

The curse does nothing to actually increase the nutritional value or edibility of the victim, which can produce some strange and possibly unintended results if cast upon, say, a fire elemental, acidic ooze, or iron golem.

If Grandmother did actually invent this curse, using it might attract her attention.  You might even get a shiny new tooth or some candy if you're lucky, although whether that luck is good or bad is unclear.

Design Commentary:  If you're playing a game that uses D&D-style magic, this spell should be about 2nd or 3rd level.  As curses go it's situationally quite dangerous but there are many work-arounds:  spend a week in relative isolation, avoid places where there are dangerous animals, watch out for people who start drooling in your presence, etc.  It's not generally as crippling as being struck blind or some of the other nasty traditional curses.

Band of the Unseen Seen, A System-Agnostic Magic Item

Band of the Unseen Seen, aka the Other Ring

Description:  A plain gold finger ring, easily mistaken for a simple wedding band.  Magical senses will detect a strong aura of narrowly-focused divinatory magic, with advanced techniques learning the exact powers below.  Even mundane wearers may realize the ring bears some enchantment, as many report an eerie sensation of glimpsing movement just on the edge of vision while wearing it.

Powers:  The wearer of this ring can clearly see invisible creatures and objects, although they will seem slightly translucent and glow faintly as long as the invisibility effect is active.  It does nothing to help with regular camouflage, stealth skills, or optical illusions that might conceal a subject, although actual invisible subjects that are using any of these are much easier to spot than normal (wearer gets to roll twice and take the better result).  

Possible Origins:  Unknown, but most likely the product of a wizard who was paranoid about unseen threats, most likely from fellow spellcasters.  In any case the enchantment involved has been duplicated by other artificers in more recent ages.

Complications:  The wearer has a nagging feeling that something they can't quite see is lurking just out of sight, but this rarely causes more than the occasional nervous twitch in your average adventurer.  Unstable or cowardly individuals may suffer from increasing paranoia if they wear the ring for extended periods, made worse if others suggest they remove the ring for a while and relax.

Perhaps more significantly, while wearing the Band of the Unseen Seen the wearer cannot become invisible under any circumstances, with any such effects simply nullified by the ring.

Design Commentary:  Very limited utility item but handy when it does come into play.  

If your campaign can support some bad referential humor, then the bearer will occasionally be accosted by one to nine mysterious shadowy cloaked figures (often riding black horses) who will demand to see the ring.  If fought, they act as whatever wraithlike undead your system favors but dissipate into dark mist (along with their steed, if any) after being struck by a single attack of any kind.  If one is allowed to examine the ring, its snorts in disgust, says something to the effect of "Wrong one again!" and they all dissipate at once.

Axe of the Wood-friend, A System-Agnostic Magic Item

Axe of the Wood-friend

Description:  A sturdy but surprisingly light woodsman's axe, suitable for one or two-handed use.  The haft seems to be made of living wood complete with oak-like bark but somehow still provides a sure grip.  The axe-head bears elven runes that roughly translate to "Friend of the Wood" and which, in the absence of other light, radiate a pale silver light about equivalent to a torch.  Even the most basic of magical senses will detect a very strong aura of enhancement magic. 

Powers:  The Axe of the Wood-friend is a powerfully enchanted blade (+5 to attack and damage in D&D equivalencies, or on par with the most potent bonuses your campaign allows) that can cleave metal, stone, and living flesh with unnatural ease.  However, it deals only half damage (without magical bonuses) against foes dressed in leather or hide armor.  The weapon always does minimum damage (again without magical bonuses) to elves, living plants, and any kind of plant creature (eg dryads, ents).  Dead (or undead) plant matter takes damage normally, including the magical damage bonus, as do creatures with only natural armor from their hide, shell, or scales.  

Possible Origins:  These axes are creations of the elves, gifted only to those they trust - but perhaps not completely.  The first examples were given to Dwarven allies in days of yore, but many champions of other races who've done service to elven rulers and communities have been similarly rewarded.  To date no others have recreated the enchantment, and there's some doubt that a non-elf would wish to do so.

Complications:  Whenever a creature is slain by one of these potent axes, the site of its death becomes unnaturally fertile forever after to all forms of plant life.  The exact area affected varies with the size and power of the victim, ranging from about a 30' radius for a simple human man at arms up to several square miles for something like an adult dragon.  

Vegetation appropriate to the terrain and climate will appear in the area within a few days, growing with unnatural speed and becoming thicker over time.  Even unsuitable locales like caverns or bare stone will be overgrown with moss and lichen in short order.  Deserts will sprout cacti and wiry scrub, farmland will struggle with weeds and saplings even as their crop yields boom, and open plains will rapidly transform into lush groves of trees.  Actual wooded areas become denser, grander, and increasingly "elven" in nature, with exotic plants and sylvan creatures appearing seemingly from nowhere.

All this rampant growth can be controlled or even eradicated through vigorous effort, but outbreaks of swiftly-growing vegetation will recur regularly until suitable ritual countermagics are performed - something that may be violently opposed by any new inhabitants of the area who were drawn by the magics involved.

For reasons that remain unclear, none of these effects occur if the killing was performed by an elf or half-elf wielding the axe, nor do such wielders enjoy any benefits when using it as a weapon.  The drawbacks (half damage against certain targets) remain in effect.

Design Commentary:  These things are trapped rewards of a peculiarly elven sort.  They can hand these axes out to friends without fear of the weapons being turned against them, and every victory won with an Axe of the Wood-friend helps adds a little more potential territory to the elven domains.  Also, scrubbing moss off their stonework keeps the Dwarves busy doing things besides cutting down trees and annoying elvenkind.

Tar-blood Draft, A System-Agnostic Magic Item

Tar-blood Draught

Description:  A small glass bottle with a snug-fitting stopper carved out of bone.  Within is a thick black liquid that smells faintly like fresh blood.  Radiates a faint aura of transformative magic to magical senses, and any alchemist will easily identify its expected effects.  

Powers:  When drunk, the user's blood is magically transformed into a black fluid much like the potion itself for the next 1d6 x 1d6 minutes.  During this time they take half damage (round down) from any cutting, slashing, or piercing attacks and are completely immune to ongoing damage from blood loss or effects relying on blood drain, although they suffer normally from injected poisons and the like.  They don't bleed at all, not even a drop, with any wounds sealing over with a smooth, glossy black membrane that forms into more normal scar tissue when the potion effects end.    

Possible Origins:  Tar-blood draughts are an alchemical creation favored by mercenaries, swordsmen, and others who care more for survival than beauty.  Several formulas for the stuff have been independently discovered, with the most common Dwarven version needing orc blood as a component and the most common orc recipe calling for Dwarf blood.  Both can use dragon blood as a substitute (usually at extra expense) and some alchemists claim blood from a bull or similar large, powerful mammal will also do fine.  Those alchemists are invariably neither Dwarves nor orc-blooded, both of whom insist their own concoctions are superior in quality.

Complications:  While the potion is in effect, all healing effects are halved (round down) and any ongoing regeneration is cancelled completely.  

Wounds taken during use will always form scars, and if the user suffers enough damage to drop unconscious they suffer a permanent 5% penalty to all tests for social interactions where their appearance is a factor.  This penalty stacks (to a maximum of -15%) if it occurs multiple times over one's career.  The penalty might be negated by suitable clothing to hide your scars, or even inverted if dealing with a situation where those scars might impress or intimidate those you're interacting with.

Design Commentary:  This stuff's a big help if you're facing enemies with the right types of weapons and worse than useless otherwise. Note that most animal attacks will have their damage halved, but constriction and bludgeoning bypasses the potion's effects.  No creature that's gotten even a small taste of the tarry goop running in a  user's veins wants another sample, which may discourage repeated bite attacks.  Mosquitos, leeches and similar blood-sucking vermin will give a wide berth to anyone who's drunken one of these potions - at least while the effects last.