TEXT:  
  
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
  Y 
  ou hold in your propitious hands     
                my personal grimoire, replete with  
                over nine-score spells of my own  
                ingenuity. Each has been delicately  
  designed, painstakingly proven, and skillfully scribed 
  by my own hand. The wonder of such a feat, the 
  fortuitous reader of this text must agree, is simply 
  awe-inspiring.  While leafing through my opus, you 
  will also note many sketches, done to keep the mind 
  active during many exhausting hours of diligent 
  study. 
      Long have I endeavoured to become something 
  my lessers have not, be it through their lack of skill 
  or lack of ambition: two sins that register as equally 
  grievous. I have dedicated myself to continuing 
  research of the six weaker schools of arcane magic 
  while rapidly expanding my knowledge of necromancy. 
  No other Pale Master would claim such, choosing 
  instead to throw themselves wholly into their mad 
  dash for immortality, eking out an inchoate godhood 
  and reveling in the worship of simpletons and 
  sycophants, bereft of any other purpose to their 
  eternity. These pretenders ultimately lose focus on the 
  greater meaning; maintaining the balance in all 
  things. You may question why a Pale Master such 
  as myself would hold this viewpoint, and such a 
  contumelious query would perhaps be condoned under 
  the context that my view is undeniably idiosyncratic, 
  and so I will humour some exposition on this day of 
  personal triumph. 
      Simply put, my intent in the publishing and 
  exposing of this grimoire to the multiverse is one of 
  catharsis: an engagement of self-reflection, the zenith 
  of my achievement put out into the world as I attain  
   
   
  wholeness. I give a brief glimpse of my past to 
  whomsoever reads this grimoire, in the faith that such 
  exposure will better the ambitious arcanist reading 
  these passages and inspire them to approach their 
  studies with a greater degree of ubiquity than they 
  would otherwise consider. 
      I will admit that my original path did not stray 
  so far from that followed by my grasping colleagues; 
  we all thought, initially, that the lesser schools of 
  magic were insignificant in the pursuit of preeminence. 
  But how may a mighty tree be measured by a single 
  branch? Balance in all things is required if one 
  wishes to master all things, I learned alone; it would 
  seem that the cosmic forces shaping existence are not 
  without a sense of humour. I find myself reminiscing 
  of a past time, working under the tutelage of a great 
  wizard and devising a great number of necromancy 
  magics together — many of which have been penned 
  into this very grimoire. I always knew that my own 
  innate power and knowledge would never breach the 
  lofty heights of my master’s expectations, though I 
  remained steadfast in my dedication to absorbing his 
  mastery of the arts. 
      Everything changed the day that I aided my 
  master, the all-eternal Kangaxx, in the dread ritual 
  that ushered him into immortality. His power before 
  was tremendous, but after his ascension to lichdom, it 
  seemed limitless in practicality. I watched as temples 
  of meddling gods and guilds of mortal mages devoted 
  entire battalions to the destruction of my master, 
  spending untold resources on his obliteration. When 
  his insurmountable power rose above, cosmic forces 
  sought to cut him down, all across the planes, in a 
  bid to re-establish balance and order.  
  
   
   
  Faced with the option of my own demise or the 
  renouncement of my teachings, the choice was not 
  laborious. I began studying each of the seven schools 
  of arcane magic in earnest, beyond the token lip-
  service many of my colleagues paid to them before 
  abandoning pretense and throwing themselves bodily 
  at necromancy. I came to the realization that, while 
  necromancy always holds an insurmountable power in 
  its defiance of the natural cycle, each school contains 
  powerful secrets in kind. 
      For years, I’ve kept this tome and the secrets 
  within sequestered from others, hoarding my 
  incantations as a thief would hoard ill-gotten coin. 
  However, as I put these finishing touches on my 
  masterpiece, I feel it is time to bestow my great gifts 
  upon the denizens of the realms, for the reasons 
  supplied above: the enlightenment of all. 
      To that end, I have tasked my faithful servant 
  Bixmodeus with the safeguarding of this grimoire, 
  through the use of a spell that has bound his soul 
  with the book. Although I have since perfected the 
  spell that allowed me to infuse my writings with his 
  aspect, I will admit that the first testing of the spell 
  did not go entirely as planned; it warped his being 
  during the transfer, resulting in the malformed, 
  demonic visage that graces the cover of this volume. 
  Regardless of appearance, Bixmodeus remains an 
  irreproachable assistant, and will serve any owner of 
  this tome well as they attempt to master the 
  incantations within. The spell in question has 
  indubitably been perfected, as I assure at the outset 
  of this foreword, and carefully penned to avoid any 
  future incident. Aptly named Bixmodeus’ Binding of 
  Perduring Possession, it will serve any skilled enough 
  to reach the end of this book well. 
       
      As I finish penning this book and send it into 
  the world, I will leave these final words of advice; 
  though all will notice the taller poppy and strive to 
  cut it down, the betterment of the field is opposed by 
  none. 
   
  Best of luck, 
   GRIMLORE 
  
   
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
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SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Dungeons & Dragons [multi]/5th Edition (5e)/3rd Party/Grim Press/Grimlores_Grimoire_v1.24 - Tevor Armstrong.pdf