Spider Swarm Missile

Evocation [Force]

Level: Sorcerer/Wizard 1
Components: V, S
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Range: Medium (100 ft. + 10 ft./level)
Targets: Up to five creatures, no two of which can be more than 15 ft. apart
Duration: Instantaneous
Saving Throw: None
Spell Resistance: Yes

Upon completion of this spell, writhing masses of spectral black spiders erupt from the caster’s fingertips with horrifying speed. Each spider is no larger than a coin, yet their legs twitch and flex with unsettling realism as they skitter through the air toward their victims. Though formed from magical force rather than true flesh, their fangs drip with luminous green venom that evaporates moments after striking.

This spell functions identically to magic missile except as noted here. The caster creates one spider missile at 1st level, plus one additional spider at every two caster levels beyond 1st (to a maximum of five spiders at 9th level). Each spider unerringly strikes its designated target and vanishes immediately after biting.

Each spider deals 1d4+1 points of force damage. The wounds manifest as venomous bites despite the spell’s force-based nature. Creatures struck often experience a brief burning sensation, localized numbness, or phantom itching for several seconds afterward, though these effects are purely cosmetic and carry no mechanical penalty beyond the damage itself.

Unlike true poison, the venom created by Spider Swarm Missile possesses no lingering toxic effect. The spell’s destructive power is entirely magical force shaped into the illusion of predatory arachnids.

Lore

Among apprentices, this spell is infamous for causing panic disproportionate to its actual lethality. More than one young noble wizard reportedly abandoned formal magical training altogether after witnessing a classmate casually loose a handful of screaming spectral spiders across a lecture hall. Veteran adventurers, by contrast, often find the spell darkly amusing, particularly when used against arrogant duelists unprepared for the deeply undignified spectacle of frantically swatting at imaginary spiders.

The spell first appeared in the marsh academies surrounding Ville des Marais, where hedge mages and swamp witches delighted in reshaping conventional arcane formulas into forms more reflective of local fears and superstitions. Scholars continue to debate whether the spell was intended as practical intimidation, satire of academic wizardry, or merely the result of a deeply eccentric conjurer with far too much free time.

Kelwyn’s Notes

There exists a particular category of magic whose purpose is not merely harm, but humiliation. One may survive a fireball with dignity intact. One may even endure lightning with a degree of stoicism if sufficiently stubborn. Yet there is something profoundly destabilizing about watching fist-sized spiders erupt from empty air and descend upon one’s person with impossible certainty. Civilization teaches people that fear should possess proportion. Spider Swarm Missile exists specifically to mock that assumption.

The remarkable thing is that the spell is, mechanically speaking, almost pedestrian. It is no more destructive than the humble Magic Missile from which it descends. The body suffers little beyond several sharp punctures of force-made venom. The mind, however, proves considerably less resilient. I once observed a hardened mercenary captain leap bodily into a drainage canal while screaming that the spiders had entered his boots. They had not. The illusion of infestation had simply colonized his imagination faster than reason could reclaim it.

One eventually realizes that fear is rarely democratic. Humanity will calmly negotiate with demons, bargain with necromancers, and construct entire cities beside haunted swamps, only to lose all composure when confronted by too many legs moving too quickly. There is a lesson hidden somewhere within that contradiction, though I confess I remain uncertain whether it reflects wisdom or merely the fragile absurdity of being alive.

Sanctuary of Civic Grace

Conjuration (Healing) [Good]

Level: Cleric 2
Components: V, S, DF
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Range: 30 ft.
Area: 30-ft.-radius emanation centered on the caster
Duration: 10 minutes/level
Saving Throw: Will negates (harmless); see text
Spell Resistance: Yes (harmless)

With a quiet invocation to the divine forces that preserve civilization against fear, hunger, panic, and violence, you establish a field of subtle communal stability around yourself. Within the spell’s area, creatures find it easier to cooperate, remain calm, and endure the frictions of crowded urban life.

While within the area of Sanctuary of Civic Grace, the following effects apply:

• Allies gain a +2 sacred bonus on Diplomacy, Gather Information, Heal, and Sense Motive checks made against humanoids native to the settlement.

• Allies gain a +2 sacred bonus on saving throws against fear, confusion, rage effects, and enchantment spells or abilities that would provoke violence, panic, or riotous behavior.

• Any stabilized creature within the area automatically heals 1 hit point every 10 minutes, provided it remains at rest and receives at least minimal care.

• Mundane arguments, shouting matches, drunken aggression, and similar emotionally charged social situations become strangely muted within the area. Creatures attempting to start or escalate a physical fight within the spell’s radius must succeed on a Will save or become unable to take the first hostile action for 1 round. This is a mind-affecting compulsion effect. Creatures already actively engaged in combat are unaffected.

• The spell suppresses the visible effects of dirt, sweat, smoke irritation, and minor fatigue upon clothing and skin, granting those within the area a more composed and respectable appearance. This provides no mechanical benefit beyond those listed above, but guards, clergy, bureaucrats, merchants, and common citizens generally react more favorably to creatures who appear orderly and calm.

The spell has no effect in wilderness regions more than one mile from a permanent settlement of at least one hundred inhabitants. Divine scholars debate whether the magic draws power from civilization itself or merely from the collective desire of people trying desperately to live beside one another without tearing society apart.

Lore

Among urban priesthoods, magistrate-temples, and ministries concerned with public order, Sanctuary of Civic Grace is considered less a miracle of righteousness than a miracle of maintenance. Rural clergy often mock the spell as “a prayer for paperwork,” yet cities that have survived famine, flood, plague, or civil unrest tend to revere the magic with unusual seriousness. In places where thousands of strangers must coexist in cramped districts beneath heat, smoke, grief, debt, and exhaustion, calm itself becomes a sacred commodity.

The spell first emerged, according to temple historians, during periods of catastrophic urban overcrowding when ordinary healing magic proved insufficient to preserve civic stability. Priests discovered that preventing panic and maintaining emotional restraint often saved more lives than curing injuries after violence had already erupted. Entire ministries formed around this philosophy - that civilization survives not through heroism alone, but through countless small acts of emotional regulation, patience, ritual courtesy, and communal dignity.

In many older cities, the spell has become woven into civic routine. Dawn patrols receive blessings before market openings. Funeral processions travel beneath its influence to prevent outbreaks of violence during emotionally charged gatherings. Public hospitals maintain permanent circles of apprentice clergy trained solely to preserve calm in overcrowded treatment halls. Even prisons occasionally employ the spell, though critics argue that enforced serenity can become another instrument of social control.

Kelwyn’s Notes

Cities are frequently misunderstood by adventurers. One hears endless stories of kings, dragons, wars, revolutions, assassinations, and cataclysms, as though civilization were maintained exclusively through dramatic moments worthy of song. Yet the true miracle of urban life is not conquest. It is restraint. It is the astonishing fact that thousands upon thousands of frightened, hungry, exhausted, prideful creatures somehow awaken each morning and choose - however imperfectly - not to destroy one another before dusk.

That is what this spell protects.

One notices, after enough years wandering the older quarters of ancient cities, that civilization possesses a kind of emotional architecture every bit as vital as stone walls or aqueducts. Tempers cool in familiar taverns. Music drifts through crowded alleys like spiritual mortar between strangers. Ritual greetings prevent bloodshed. Public mourning gives grief somewhere to stand besides the middle of the street. Entire societies survive because countless invisible mechanisms quietly absorb the pressure of human despair before it ruptures into violence. Priests who wield this spell understand this truth instinctively. They are not merely calming people. They are maintaining the sacred machinery of coexistence.

The magic itself feels strangely humble while standing within it. There are no blazing halos nor triumphant declarations of divine wrath. Instead, one simply notices that voices soften slightly. Breathing slows. A trembling hand unclenches from a bottle or knife hilt. A clerk who might otherwise have screamed instead sighs in weary resignation. A grieving mother remains capable of speaking rather than collapsing into panic. The spell does not eliminate suffering. It merely grants people enough emotional space to continue carrying it.

And perhaps that is the greater holiness.

After all, civilizations rarely die because evil suddenly appears. More often, they perish because exhaustion finally outweighs patience. Because people become too frightened, too hungry, too humiliated, or too hopeless to continue participating in the fragile communal performance required to keep a city alive. One cannot help but admire any divine force willing to intervene not upon battlefields, but within marketplaces, hospitals, bureaucracies, and overcrowded streets where humanity quietly struggles each day to remain civilized at all.

Rock of the Falling World

Evocation [Force]

Level: Sorcerer/Wizard 4
Components: V, S, M
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Range: Touch
Target: One stone no larger than a sling bullet or fist-sized rock
Duration: 1 minute/level or until discharged
Saving Throw: None
Spell Resistance: No

The caster infuses a single small stone with catastrophic gravitational force held in impossible suspension. While empowered, the rock appears entirely ordinary save for a faint distortion in the air around it, as though space itself struggles to accommodate the object’s concealed weight. The stone may be carried, pocketed, or thrown normally by any creature without penalty. The effect remains dormant until the stone leaves the thrower’s hand.

The instant the empowered rock is thrown, its true mass manifests in violent full measure while its physical size remains unchanged. The projectile strikes with the force of a collapsing siege engine compressed into a pebble-sized impact point. The thrown stone requires a ranged attack roll with a range increment of 20 feet.

On a successful hit, the rock deals 2d8+10 points of bludgeoning damage. This damage is treated exactly as though the target had been struck by a hurled boulder from a Hill Giant for purposes of damage reduction, object destruction, and interaction with abilities or effects that reference giant-thrown stones.

In addition, the impact creates a violent concussive burst. Any creature adjacent to the struck target must succeed on a DC 16 Reflex save or be knocked prone. Fragile unattended objects within 5 feet of the impact point take 1d6 points of damage from the shockwave.

Whether the attack hits or misses, the spell’s power is immediately discharged after the first throw. The stone itself is usually pulverized into dust or driven deep into the surrounding surface.

Material Component: A pinch of lead dust and a fragment chipped from a millstone.

Lore

Among siege mages, this spell is often considered one of the purest examples of arcane cruelty through compression rather than spectacle. There is no roaring flame, no visible lance of power, and no gathering storm to warn the victim. One simply notices that a pebble has struck the breastplate - and then hears the ribs collapse a moment later. Veterans of giant wars speak with unusual unease about the spell, for it reproduces with alarming precision the dreadful impact of a true giant’s thrown stone without requiring the giant itself.

Certain academies forbid apprentices from practicing the spell indoors after a notorious incident involving a dormitory wall, three alchemical stills, and a professor’s favorite familiar. The official report described the event as “a regrettable demonstration of applied momentum.” Unofficially, the crater remained visible for nearly forty years.

Kelwyn’s Notes

There exists something profoundly unsettling about humanity’s endless desire to miniaturize catastrophe. We are rarely content to build a larger hammer when we discover instead that we may compress the hammer into something that fits comfortably within a pocket. A siege engine at least possesses the decency to announce itself. One hears the creak of timber, the grinding of wheels, the shouted commands of sweating men hauling death into position. This spell bypasses all such ceremony. It allows apocalypse to masquerade as litter.

I once observed a nervous apprentice carrying one of these stones inside his coat pocket while simultaneously eating sugared almonds with the other hand. The absurdity of the sight has never left me. Civilization itself often appears to function in this manner - ordinary people carrying concealed disasters through crowded streets while discussing weather, romance, taxes, or dinner. Entire kingdoms operate upon the unspoken agreement that everyone will continue pretending the pebbles in their pockets are harmless.

The truly remarkable aspect of the spell is not the violence itself, but the compression of consequence. A boulder possesses scale. One understands instinctively what a boulder may accomplish when hurled through the air by a giant. The mind accepts the relationship between size and devastation because nature trained us to do so long before language existed. This spell violates that ancient instinct. It transforms the world into something subtly dishonest. The eye says “stone.” The universe replies “avalanche.”

One begins to understand, after sufficient years among mages, that wizardry is often less about creating impossible things and more about teaching reality to tolerate contradiction for brief periods of time. The stone is tiny. The impact is monstrous. Both statements remain true simultaneously, and the cosmos suffers the indignity in silence until the moment of collision. Frankly, I suspect reality resents us for such behavior.

The Hearthrealms 

There exists a peculiar exhaustion known only to those who wander too long between worlds. It is not merely the fatigue of the body, though the body certainly protests with admirable theatricality after several weeks sleeping beneath damp wagons, broken towers, or the roots of trees that whisper in languages no scholar has yet catalogued. No, the greater wound settles deeper. One begins to feel stretched thin across existence itself, as though the soul has become parchment repeatedly folded and unfolded until the creases threaten to split entirely. It is during such seasons that the Hearthrealm reveals its true value. I have stepped across those impossible thresholds more than once with mud upon my boots, blood upon my cuffs, and despair sitting quietly behind my eyes, only to discover the extraordinary restorative power of a door capable of closing against the entire universe.

What fascinates me most about the Hearthrealm is not its utility, though utility alone would justify its study among any serious dimensional practitioner. Rather, it is the intimate manner in which these spaces reflect their creators. A man may conceal his nature from colleagues, lovers, kings, and even himself for astonishing lengths of time, yet the realm beyond his Anchor eventually betrays him utterly. I once visited the Hearthrealm of a necromancer who insisted he feared death no longer, only to discover a residence constructed as an endless summer vineyard untouched by decay, where phantom cicadas sang eternally beneath golden evening light. Another wizard fashioned his refuge as a fortress of black iron suspended over an abyss without bottom or stars, despite presenting himself publicly as a cheerful academic. The dimension listens while it is being formed. More troubling still - I believe it remembers.

My own Hearthrealm has changed over the years in subtle and deeply concerning ways. Corridors lengthen where none existed before. Books occasionally appear upon shelves precisely when I require them, despite possessing no recollection of placing them there. The kettle is warm more often than probability should comfortably permit. Yet I confess there are evenings, particularly after the uglier sorts of expeditions, when I have stood beneath cold rain with shaking hands upon my Anchor and felt something dangerously close to gratitude at the knowledge that somewhere beyond ordinary reality there exists a lantern-lit room that knows my footsteps by heart. In a cosmos filled with hungry gods, collapsing civilizations, and dimensions that would happily digest both memory and bone alike, there is profound comfort in possessing a place that asks nothing of you except that you return alive.

Hearthrealm, Lesser

Conjuration (Creation, Teleportation)

Level: Sorcerer/Wizard 5, Bard 5
Components: V, S, M
Casting Time: 10 minutes
Range: Personal
Target: You
Duration: Instantaneous

You establish a permanent bond with a small extradimensional refuge existing beyond the Material Plane. This refuge, known as a Lesser Hearthrealm, is a stable pocket dimension containing up to 1,600 square feet of floor space. The shape and layout of this space are determined by the caster at the time of creation and may consist of multiple rooms, levels, corridors, alcoves, stairways, balconies, or similar architectural features. No individual chamber may exceed 20 feet in height.

Upon completion of the spell, you designate a Tiny object as the realm’s Anchor. Common Anchors include rings, lanterns, keys, lockets, books, bags, masks, mirrors, or similar items.

Any creature holding the Anchor may speak a command word as a standard action to open a portal to the Lesser Hearthrealm. The portal appears adjacent to the bearer and remains open for 1 round per caster level unless dismissed earlier. Creatures entering the portal are transported into the Hearthrealm. Exiting the Hearthrealm returns creatures to the space adjacent to the portal from which they entered, or the nearest safe adjacent square if that space is occupied.

The Hearthrealm is furnished as a modest but comfortable dwelling according to the caster’s desires at the time of casting. The realm may contain sleeping quarters, tables, shelves, bathing facilities, storage space, cooking implements, and similar nonmagical furnishings. The environment is clean, dry, and temperate.

The caster may define weather conditions, ambient lighting, apparent sky coloration, and day-night cycles within the realm.

Objects left within the Hearthrealm remain there indefinitely. The realm cannot create valuables, consumable goods, spell components, alchemical substances, or magic items.

The Lesser Hearthrealm possesses the following planar traits:

• Normal gravity

• Normal time relative to the caster’s native plane

• Finite size

• Normal magic

Spells attempting to locate or observe the Hearthrealm remotely must succeed on a caster level check against DC 15 + the caster’s level.

If the Anchor is destroyed, the Hearthrealm remains intact but inaccessible until a replacement Anchor is attuned during an 8-hour ritual performed by the original caster.

Material Component: Silver dust, crystal fragments, rare incense, and dimensional reagents worth 2,500 gp.

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Hearthrealm

Conjuration (Creation, Teleportation)

Level: Sorcerer/Wizard 7
Target: You
Duration: Instantaneous

This spell functions as Hearthrealm, Lesser, except as noted here.

The Hearthrealm contains up to 22,500 square feet of floor space arranged in any configuration desired by the caster. No individual chamber may exceed 40 feet in height.

The realm may contain multiple structures, towers, laboratories, libraries, gardens, shrines, workshops, courtyards, bridges, or similar features.

The caster may define weather conditions, ambient lighting, apparent sky coloration, and day-night cycles within the realm.

The environment may contain simple magical conveniences such as continual flame lighting, self-filling wash basins, warming hearths, unseen servant-like maintenance effects, or similar minor magical comforts.

The caster may designate up to three Anchors tied to the same Hearthrealm.

The Hearthrealm possesses the following planar traits:

• Normal gravity

• Normal time relative to the caster’s native plane

• Finite size

• Normal magic

Spells attempting to locate or observe the Hearthrealm remotely must succeed on a caster level check against DC 20 + the caster’s level.

Material Component: Silver dust, crystal fragments, rare incense, dimensional reagents, and stabilized planar catalysts worth 15,000 gp.

XP Cost: 1,000 XP.

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Hearthrealm, Greater

Conjuration (Creation, Teleportation)

Level: Sorcerer/Wizard 8
Target: You
Duration: Instantaneous

This spell functions as Hearthrealm, except as noted here.

The Greater Hearthrealm contains up to 250,000 square feet of total space arranged in any configuration desired by the caster. No individual enclosed chamber may exceed 100 feet in height.

The realm may contain terrain features including forests, ponds, marshland, stone courtyards, caverns, bridges, towers, cliffs, rivers, or similar environmental structures.

The caster may define weather conditions, ambient lighting, apparent sky coloration, and day-night cycles within the realm.

The realm may sustain livestock, gardens, orchards, and nonmagical ecosystems indefinitely.

The caster may designate up to five Anchors tied to the same Hearthrealm.

The Greater Hearthrealm possesses the following planar traits:

• Normal gravity

• Normal time relative to the caster’s native plane

• Finite size

• Normal magic

Spells attempting to locate or observe the Hearthrealm remotely must succeed on a caster level check against DC 25 + the caster’s level.

Material Component: Silver dust, crystal fragments, rare incense, dimensional reagents, stabilized planar catalysts, and attuned astral gemstones worth 35,000 gp.

XP Cost: 2,500 XP.

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Hearthrealm, Sovereign

Conjuration (Creation, Teleportation)

Level: Sorcerer/Wizard 9
Target: You
Duration: Instantaneous

This spell functions as Hearthrealm, Greater, except as noted here.

The Sovereign Hearthrealm contains up to 27,878,400 square feet of total space arranged in any configuration desired by the caster. No terrain, structure, or environmental feature within the realm may exceed 500 feet in vertical height or depth.

The realm may contain fully self-sustaining environments including rivers, hills, forests, villages, roads, harbors, fortresses, oceans, caverns, mountains, or similar large-scale features.

The caster may define weather conditions, ambient lighting, apparent sky coloration, and day-night cycles within the realm.

The realm may contain permanent magical effects including unseen servant populations, magical illumination, climate regulation, purification effects, and similar noncombat magical infrastructure.

The caster instinctively knows whenever a creature enters or exits the Hearthrealm.

The caster may designate any number of Anchors tied to the same Hearthrealm.

If the caster dies, the Hearthrealm persists indefinitely and may become accessible through planar travel, powerful divination, or possession of an Anchor.

The Sovereign Hearthrealm possesses the following planar traits:

• Normal gravity

• Normal time relative to the caster’s native plane

• Finite size

• Normal magic

Spells attempting to locate or observe the Hearthrealm remotely must succeed on a caster level check against DC 30 + the caster’s level.

Material Component: Silver dust, crystal fragments, rare incense, dimensional reagents, stabilized planar catalysts, attuned astral gemstones, and sovereign planar matrices worth 100,000 gp.

XP Cost: 5,000 XP.

Feat: Dimensional Precision

Prerequisites: Ability to cast plane shift, Knowledge (the planes) 10 ranks, Spellcraft 10 ranks

Benefit: When you cast plane shift, you gain significantly greater control over your destination.

• You reduce the arrival error from 5d% miles to 1d10 × 10 miles (10–100 miles).

• If you are personally familiar with the destination (have physically visited it), the error is reduced further to 1d10 miles.

• If you possess a strong sympathetic link to the destination (such as a personal item, attuned focus, or detailed study for at least 1 hour), you may choose to arrive within 1 mile of your intended location.

Additionally, you may designate yourself as an anchor point for the spell:

• All affected creatures arrive within 30 feet of you, rather than scattering within the arrival area.

Normal: Plane shift deposits travelers 5 to 500 miles from the intended destination, and arrival positioning is uncontrolled.

Special: This feat only applies when you are the caster of plane shift. It has no effect on other forms of planar travel unless explicitly noted.

Cataclysm of the Dimensional Graveyard

Evocation [Force]
Level: Sorcerer/Wizard 9
Components: V, S
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Range: Long (400 ft. + 40 ft./level)
Area: 60-ft.-radius spread (see text)
Duration: Instantaneous and 1 round/level (see text)
Saving Throw: Reflex partial; see text
Spell Resistance: Yes

You rend open a vast and screaming aperture into the dimensional graveyard and seize an immense fragment of a dead reality - a continent of broken existence that no longer belongs to any plane. For a single, catastrophic moment, you force it into your world… and it collapses.

Primary Impact

The fragment manifests overhead and implodes into the target area.

All creatures and objects within the area take 40d6 points of force damage. A successful Reflex save reduces this damage by 20d6 (not halved; roll damage normally, then reduce the result by 20d6).

Creatures and objects within the central 20-ft.-radius take an additional 10d6 points of force damage (no save).

Objects take full damage from both effects.

Unstable Reality Collapse

The area does not recover. For 1 round per caster level, the region remains violently unstable:

• Movement within the area costs double (as difficult terrain)
• Creatures take a –4 penalty on attack rolls, Armor Class, and saving throws
• At the start of each creature’s turn in the area, it takes 4d6 force damage (no save)
• Casting a spell within the area requires a Concentration check (DC 20 + spell level) or the spell fails

The terrain continuously shifts between fragments of incompatible realities - ground becoming sky, angles bending, horizons overlapping.

Dimensional Rejection Event

When the duration ends, reality violently reasserts itself.

All creatures and objects still within the area take 15d6 points of force damage (no save) as the fragment is forcibly expelled and existence snaps back into place.

Planar Catastrophic Backlash

You force your mind to grasp and direct a truth no mortal intellect was meant to hold.

Upon casting, you suffer:

• 15d6 points of force damage (no save)
• You are stunned for 1 round
• You become exhausted
• You take 1d4 points of Intelligence drain

If you cast this spell more than once in the same day, the Intelligence drain increases by +1 per additional casting.

Special

• This is a force effect and affects incorporeal creatures normally
• Objects and structures take full damage from all stages of the spell
• The fragment’s appearance varies - shattered oceans, inverted cities, alien skies, or impossible landscapes collapsing inward
• For a brief moment, observers can see into the dimensional graveyard itself - an endless expanse of drifting, broken realities

Greater Dimensional Shard Volley

Evocation [Force]
Level: Sorcerer/Wizard 5
Components: V, S
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Range: Long (400 ft. + 40 ft./level)
Area: 20-ft.-radius spread (see text)
Duration: Instantaneous
Saving Throw: Reflex half; see text
Spell Resistance: Yes

You tear open a violent aperture into the dimensional graveyard and drag forth massive, unstable chunks of collapsed realities, hurling them into your world as catastrophic weapons before existence can reject them.

You conjure one major shard per two caster levels (maximum 10 shards). Each shard detonates in a 20-foot-radius spread. You may place each shard’s point of impact anywhere within range.

Each explosion deals 1d6 points of force damage per caster level (maximum 15d6). Creatures caught in multiple overlapping bursts take damage from each and attempt a separate Reflex save for each explosion.

Unstable Cataclysm: Creatures that fail their Reflex save against a shard must also succeed on a Fortitude save (same DC) or become partially phased for 1 round. A partially phased creature treats all terrain as difficult terrain, takes a –2 penalty to AC and attack rolls, and cannot take 5-foot steps.

Planar Backlash: The strain of dragging full fragments of dead worlds is severe. After casting, roll 1d20:
1–3: You take 1d6 force damage per caster level and are stunned for 1 round.
4–7: You are dazed for 1 round and teleported 1d10 × 5 feet in a random direction.
8–20: No effect.

Dimensional Rejection: These massive fragments cannot remain. Immediately after impact, they warp, fracture, and are violently pulled back through reality, vanishing into the dimensional graveyard. For a brief moment (no more than 1 round), the affected areas display unstable visual echoes - broken horizons, alien structures, or impossible spatial distortions. These effects are purely visual.