Oh yes, we know that particular flavor of frantic look. You are far from the first whose eyes it has crossed, friend, and so long as the sun continues to rise you will not be the last.
You found a book, and in your childlike naiveté you assumed this book held answers. That is the lie we teach our children, after all: Books hold answers. Knowledge is power. Broaden yourself and you shall no longer be the fearful, mewling lump you dropped into this world as.
But now you know the truth.
You read your Occult Adventures. You assumed it would satisfy you; would answer your questions. But now you're left with an intellectual hunger no crumb of written word can sate. Yet you scrape through the cupboards, hoping—no, begging to a universe you hope is just that page will relieve the pangs for just One. More. Day.
It won't. It can't. The truth of this world—beneath the playful façade of queens and dragons we set out to delight clumsier minds—is grisly and devoid of sense. I have the book you want; the book you need. This book of Occult Origins tempts you with so many new secrets—questions you never even thought to ask—but it can't offer peace of mind. You knew this before you stepped in, and yet here we both stand. You need to know how kineticists are born, and why they hurl the fundamental forces of the universe as carelessly as a child throws a disobedient doll. You long to know why the psychic mind can overwrite a world you believed to be so stable and sound and impervious to whim. But this book isn't a book of answer. You will leave here all the hungrier. But you will leave here book in hand, knowing you are richer, and perhaps one step closer to mad.
The Occult Origins tells of chaokineticists, who channel the universe's devouring maw and wield death and decay, and the phytokinetic disciplines of distant Tian, who kindle the energy of life to violent and deadly ends. It whispers the secrets of Chelish mental disciplines to wither the unbending will of devils. It details the ancient art of the reliquarians, who suckle powers the gods themselves leave in their passing. It will teach you how to develop the powers of your psychic mind through introspection, or reflection on the lives—and deaths—you have long since outgrown. It can teach you to modify the delicate web of bone of sinew that contains the immortal essence of your being.
Through careful study and practice, you have learned how to relieve pressure in the brain to balance the humors, promote health, and ward off outside influence.
Prerequisites: Heal 5 ranks, Knowledge (arcana) 2 ranks.
Benefit: You can perform the faith healing occult skill unlockOA even if you can't use psychic magic. If you can cast psychic spells or have the Psychic SensitivityOA feat, you can use faith healing one additional time per day.
So long as you have a healer's kitUE or surgeon's toolsUE, you can spend 1 hour performing a full trepanation on a creature. This procedure requires a Heal check (DC = 20 + the target's Hit Dice). If you're successful, the target gains a +2 insight bonus on saving throws against curses, possession, and spells from the enchantment (compulsion) school. These effects persist for 1 day per character level you possess. If you fail the check, the target takes 1d3 points of Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma damage. You can perform this procedure on yourself, but the DC increases by 5.
But it can't tell you such things are the law of the land, or pull aside the shadows far larger forces cast across your world—perhaps even across your self. It teaches occult rituals to bind gods into your army or force back psychic influence, but it can never teach you why an assemblage of words and willpower make the strict laws of creation shudder and cower.
But maybe it gives you just enough. Maybe this keeps you hungry enough that you keep asking questions and checking dark corners. Maybe you'll be the first to understand the why of it all without losing your life or your mind. Most likely not, but maybe. Gods' speed to you.
Or whatever you pray to.