Battle with the God of Rot
- Dungeon Master
- Nov 1
- 20 min read
Updated: 2 days ago
Quicklinks
Combat with Malefax - Round 2
Fizzbum opens the round still invisible, ghosting 10 feet to a new spot before peeking out just enough to thread a whisper of magic to his friends—“Orin! If you lean out a bit…” A soft chord glides across the corridor and Healing Word lifts Orin by 11 HP. Fizz slips back, then shifts again 10 feet and calls, “Hang in there Ms. Hruna!!”—another Healing Word blooms, restoring Hruna by 17 HP. He finishes by easing 10 more feet into cover, remaining unseen.
Vhal’Zoruun rises, psionic light bleeding from his eyes. “You were my prison, Malefax—now feel the power you fed!” A spear of violet Lightning Bolt tears down the hall, obliterating a warden into molten bone before smashing into the corpse-beholder for 29 lightning. (Malefax fails his save.) Vhal, spent but unbroken, breathes “I will not be chained again,” and Misty Step blinks him 30 feet toward shadow.
Mutt slides 25 feet into the blind spot, throws up a Minor Illusion of rocky wall, and hunkers behind it—Stealth 20: hidden. He fingers a ready Healing Word for Azalie the instant she clears the cone.
Dorf smells blood and sprints 10 feet toward the immobilized Alhoon. With a roar he ignites Precious, molten orange licking the pick’s edge, and drives it home for 33 fire (Vhal’s psionic reaction halves it to 16). Dorf snarls and swings again—Extra Attack detonates against Vhal’s chest for 19 fire—then whips his off-hand Flameblade +2 through the smoke for another 12 fire. Vhal’s eyes blaze violet as Psionic Backlash whips pain back into the barbarian’s skull; Dorf steadies (save success) and only takes 5 psychic.
Hruna, wide-eyed, parries a warden and backs away: “Bah—this fight’s beyond me now!” She disengages and dashes 30 feet to crouch near
Uptharr, sword ready but out of the beholder’s sightline.
Malefax’s pupil flares black—Legendary: Entropy of Fate. Shadow pulses from his core, tugging at fortune itself. Fizzbum, Azalie, Orin, and Uptharr hold their luck (all save); Mutt stumbles (fails), feeling fortune bleed from his grasp.
Azalie ghosts 10 feet closer and snarls, “I am sooo sick of Beholders!!!” Her first Flameblade strike bites for
8 fire; the second carves deeper for 13 fire, black ichor boiling. She rams a Blessed Arrow in by hand—radiance cracks from the wound and burns for 6 radiant as Malefax roars, chains rattling with fury.
High above, Mellon circles and holds, safely out of reach.
Orin glides 25 feet along the flank and readies Shatter the moment the antimagic drops, picking a point that spares allies but catches Malefax and two chain clusters.
Uptharr strides 25 feet, plants himself just beyond the dead light, and howls a challenge. His blade explodes with divine fire as it cleaves a Chardalyn chain—radiant smite tears the link apart for a total of 28 effective damage, and the chain shatters. Malefax’s body jerks and a Pain Surge rips outward. Uptharr resists, taking only 8 psychic; Mutt reels (fails), taking 11 psychic and becoming frightened until his next turn.
Malefax, livid, snaps an eyestalk at the paladin—Paralyzing Ray—but Uptharr burns inspiration and throws it off (save success).
The anti-magic field falters—and all at once Orin springs the trap. “Now!” A thunder-pulse detonates: Shatter slams Malefax for 6 thunder (save success), but both targeted chains are brittle as glass—each fails and takes double before resistance, both snap into spiraling shards. Malefax howls, and the collapse of two bindings triggers an Amplified Pain Surge: Uptharr is rocked (fails) for 13 psychic and becomes frightened; Mutt, Orin, and Azalie all brace (saves), taking only 5 each.
As the surge peaks, Mutt’s readied magic lands on cue—Healing Word washes over Azalie for 11 HP, and the Howlbears square up amid rattling chains and howling light, three bindings now shattered and Malefax reeling.
The Unbinding of Malefax
As the third chain snaps, and the sound is like the world itself cracking open. Light and darkness churn together — red, black, and gold threads whipping through the air in violent spirals. Malefax’s form droops, then rises again, swelling grotesquely as the remaining chain glows white-hot, the last shackle straining against the weight of his hate.
A low rumble shakes the stone. Then a voice — ancient, proud, and venomous — fills the chamber.
“You’ve come farther than most who walked these halls. Fought harder. Bled deeper...Tell me, mortals… do you even know what you unbind?” His central eye rolls downward, the pupil spinning like a storm. “I was Malefax — Architect of the Infinite Maw. A god in flesh before your gods had names. And this wretch—” (his gaze shifts to Vhal’Zoruun) “—drank from my corpse like a leech, calling it power.”
The Alhoon stumbles, his psionic wards flickering.
“The chains— you don’t understand! They weren’t his prison… they were his cage!”“If the last one falls, he will become whole again — mind and soul, bound to nothing!”
Malefax laughs, a sound that rattles bones and curdles the air.
“Yes. Free me, Howlbears. Be the heralds of my return.”“You’ve earned that much.”
The floor cracks. Energy ripples outward. The wardens tremble in their alcoves as the last chain pulses like a heartbeat.
The chamber hangs on a knife’s edge — the Howlbears stand between two monsters, each calling them toward a different doom.
You may reply to Malefax, during a short pause.
Then round 3 we will reroll initiative after any dialogue or actions.
Current Time: 9:56 PM
Date: Ninthday, 29, Alturiak, 1742
Temperature: 61°
Current Phase: Exploration
Corruption Level: Level 1 - Orin, Mutt, Dorf, Uptharr.\
The Calm before the Storm
The red haze deepens. Dust falls like ash as the crypt shudders under Malefax’s weight. The Howlbears move — not in panic, but in purpose.
Azalie's mind races... This is a battlefield. They don’t stand a chance. The beast toys with them and Azalie knows it. She stares at the last chain—will it truly reanimate this monster?
Each strike she watches hammers her friends: harder, closer, bloodier. Her heart hammers, sweat stinging at her eyes. She isn’t afraid; she’s hollowed out with grief—what will life be without the Howlbears, without him?
She steals a quick look at Mutt and prays he reads her intent. She means to end both creatures: to crush them into nothing and spit on their rotting corpses.
The potion has been burning a hole in her pocket since Xal’Zyress. Now, finally, she pulls it free. She slams the toadstool elixir down, crouches, and springs—Mellon’s mark glows where the anti-magic fog can’t touch it.
If Malfax notices, she’ll have one second, maybe less. She tucks the bow to her shoulder, nocks a fire arrow, and aims for the heart of the thing that’s been feeding on them all night.
Azalie vanishes from the floor in a blur of motion, the toadstool elixir burning through her veins. Her boots strike stone high above, her form swallowed by shadow as she nocks a fire arrow and takes aim from the ledge Mellon found. From her vantage, the undead titan looks smaller — but no less dreadful.
Azalie will be able to fire her range attacks with Advantage on her turn in initiative order
Below, Mutt bursts from the illusion’s cover, fear momentarily gripping his mind before the anti-magic washes it clean. His voice rises across the chamber, carrying words of healing that will reach Uptharr like sunlight through a storm, once there is an opening in the anti-magic ray. Then his gaze finds Azalie’s — a brief flash of understanding — as the melody of his bardic inspiration hums through the chaos, a promise of strength and defiance.
Healing Word readied - will auto cast when available
Bardic Inspiration takes effect on Azalie immediately
Orin stands firm, the shimmer of his runes steadying the air around him. His wand glows faintly as he marks the battlefield, eyes shifting between the two horrors. His voice cuts through the silence like a blade.
“You were bound for a reason,” he calls, eyes hard on the Beholder’s corpse. “And you—” his gaze flicks toward the broken Alhoon, “—fed on that corruption until you became no different from it.”
The abjurations around him thrum brighter, drawn taut as a bowstring. “You talk of gods and masters, but all I see are parasites fighting over the same corpse.”
He glances once at Mutt and Azalie and notes the faintest nod passes between them. “Let’s finish this. For the living, for the Weave… for balance.”
Orin has his wand readied - can release the power once an opening occurs, at any point as a reaction action.
Malfax’s vast form trembles. His central eye narrows, sweeping across the room but failing to catch Azalie’s hidden perch. The remaining chain pulses like a heartbeat, and his voice grates through every skull — not words, but thoughts sharpened to knives.
“You think your courage means anything, little sparks? You fight for balance — and I am balance undone.”“Break the last chain. Let me show you what your ‘life’ is worth.”
The final chain throbs brighter, veins of light crawling up its length toward the ceiling. Vhal’Zoruun staggers back, eyes wide.
“No more! If it breaks— there will be no Weave left to mend!”
Dorf growls, blood and fury mixing in his throat as he spins his blazing pickaxe in his grip.
“Then let’s end one of ye now!”He charges toward the Alhoon, as 'Precious' remains dampened by the anti-magic
Behind him, Uptharr raises his sword, the holy symbol at his chest flaring white.
“Howlbears, stand tall! Cut the beast’s chains — for all that still breathes!”He turns toward Malefax, preparing to strike.
From the edge of the chaos, Fizzbum remains unseen, his charm of vanishing keeping him shrouded. The little gnome grips his staff tight, eyes darting between the swirling horrors. He murmurs under his breath, “Best stay quiet, and wait for the right moment… they’ll never see it coming.”
Dorf, Uptharr and Fizz get initiative bumps and will act first in round three, in the following order: Dorf, Uptharr, Fizzbum
The crimson haze pulses once more, heat and madness rippling through the air. The lull is over.
The floor splits as the last chain shudders under the stress of the god of rot— Round 3 begins.
Current Time: 9:57 PM
Date: Ninthday, 29, Alturiak, 1742
Temperature: 61°
Current Phase: Exploration
Corruption Level: Level 1 - Orin, Mutt, Dorf, Uptharr.\
Combat with Malefax - Round 3
Dorf opens the round in a whirl of fury, hammering Vhal’Zoruun three times inside the dampening field—two heavy chops with Precious (7 and 7 after resistance) and a savage off-hand cut with his inert flameblade (5)—for 19 total.
Uptharr surges past the glare of that baleful eye and hacks at the final chardalyn tether.
“Your chains will be cut, and then you will be destroyed, Malefax!”
His first stroke weakens the link (13), the follow-through severs it (13), and the room detonates with a Pain Surge. Uptharr steels himself and halves it (6). At that same heartbeat Mutt’s readied magic snaps into place, calling life back into the paladin for 11.
Malefax, newly unbound, answers at once: a viridian lance of disintegration punches through Uptharr even on a save, blasting him for 21 and dropping him, dying.
The shockwave rolls wider—Mutt grits through it (5), Azalie does too (5)—and the beholder hangs in the air by his own will alone, chains gone and fury rising.
Azalie yanks a Duergar vial from her kit, smears that strange green fluid along two arrows, and steps into the chaos.
“I have had enough of beholders.”
The first shot lands but skitters across undead hide (6), the second follows—“Fucking Dddddiiiieeee!”—and also only partly bites (6). The green fluid does nothing; Malefax doesn’t even flinch at it.
Mutt scrambles to better cover, throws another Healing Word—“Back on your feet, Paladin! Your god isn’t done with you yet.”
—The spell instantly restores Uptharr back to consciousness for 13, He then knocks back a healing potion for 10.
When Malefax’s turn crests, three eyestalks flare:
“My freedom will soon make sense to you, little toys.”
A Death Ray slams Mutt, but he sets his jaw and takes 18 after the save; a Paralyzing Ray washes over Uptharr, who shrugs it off; and a Telekinesis Ray hooks Dorf, who digs in until the psychic grip snaps. Through it all, Mutt’s spirit guardians keep tearing at the corpse-beholder—save made, half, then doubled by the weakness—for 12 radiant that actually sticks.
Fizzbum hustles, peeks around the stone. “Oh goodness! That eye is the worst! Don’t look at it Mr. Mutt! I’ll fix ya up.”
A quick Healing Word restores 14 to Mutt. Then the gnome puffs his cheeks and exhales a howling Wind Wall: “Just a little spring breeze Mr. Dorf! Hope it helps!” The gale scythes the field, blasting four Skeleton Wardens to pieces and battering Vhal’Zoruun for 18.
Snarling, the Alhoon blurs away—“I will not die in your shadow, brute”—then wheels on Malefax: “Choke on your own power, carcass.”
His Mind Rift hammers home; Malefax fails the save and takes 23 psychic that makes every eyestalk lock stiff for a heartbeat.
The remaining wardens scatter under Uptharr’s holy dread; two that dare crowd Dorf swing and miss (one drops its blade outright), and Hruna’s parting slash at a fleeing skeleton whiffs. Orin steps into angle and threads a Ray of Frost into the Alhoon for 7.
Malefax’s response is pure contempt. “You were my parasite, little lich—now rot with the rest of them.”
A disintegration beam carves through Vhal’Zoruun; the Alhoon unravels to ash, which whirls backward and feeds Malefax’s cracks as he drinks in the stolen essence, recovering 30.
“The thief returns what he stole. His mind is mine again.” And with that, his central eye rolls open once more, milky surface veined with crimson. “The light dies here… and your souls will feed my awakening.” Antimagic floods the battlefield.
Current Time: 9:57 PM
Date: Ninthday, 29, Alturiak, 1742
Temperature: 61°
Current Phase: Exploration
Corruption Level: Level 1 - Orin, Mutt, Dorf, Uptharr.\
The Fall of Malefax the Infinite - Round 4
Dorf thunders down the length of the desecrated hall, charging straight toward Malefax. His boots hammer the stone, the sound echoing between the cracked walls as he tosses a healing potion toward Orin in passing—
“Orin, catch!”—before lowering his shoulder and sprinting the full distance, dashing fifty feet through the swirl of smoke and psionic haze toward the Beholder.
Uptharr, battered but standing, presses a gauntleted hand against his chest, after receiving the healing from Mutt.
“Thank you, Mutt! I owe you—Tyr will guide us!”
A faint glow returns to his eyes as divine warmth courses through him, using his Lay on hands, mending his wounds for 5 HP. With renewed conviction, he surges forward and swings his blade twice. “Fiend! May Tyr bring you the release and justice you deserve!” The first strike carves into Malefax, holy power flaring as he channels a Divine Smite—11 slashing and 24 radiant in one devastating burst for 35 total. His second swing misses, clashing off the Beholder’s armored hide.
Azalie’s gaze sharpens, locking onto the monster. She sheathes her bow, flameblade flaring to life as she whispers the words to Hunter’s Mark, the spell latching onto Malefax like a hunter’s glare. With a running start she leaps from her perch, shouting,
“I! NEED! A! Bath!”
She lands directly on the Beholder’s heaving bulk, stabbing her fiery blade deep into its flesh. Flames erupt along its body as she twists free and slashes again before vaulting back to her ledge. Together, her twin strikes carve 34 searing damage through Malefax’s rotted hide.
The Beholder reels, ichor pouring from dozens of cracks across its swollen form. Malefax’s voice echoes through every skull in the room—mocking, layered, furious.
“Little sparks… biting at the dark? You gnaw at my flesh, but you cannot fathom the eternity that binds me.”
His cracked eyestalk flares, and a blinding Red beam erupts—engulfing Uptharr in an instant. The paladin raises his arms, defiant, but the ray tears through armor and flesh alike, dissolving him into drifting motes of silver ash. As the dust scatters, Malefax inhales sharply, drawing in the paladin’s last breath and restoring a flicker of stolen life.
“Uptharr!” Mutt’s voice breaks with fury. He snatches two vials of holy water from his belt. “I will see you dead, you bastard!”
The first vial bursts against Malefax’s hide with a scream of silver light, burning through cracked chardalyn plates and staggering him mid-air. The second vial follows—Mutt hurling it with every ounce of fury left in him—striking the fissured center of the great eye. Radiant steam erupts in a blinding wash of scarlet and white as holy power devours the Beholder from within.
Malefax convulses, cracks spiderwebbing across his swollen form.A final guttural rasp echoes through the chamber—
“I… am… eternal—”
—but the lie dies halfway out.
The Beholder implodes, collapsing inward in complete silence. Ash and fragments whirl upward in a spiral before dissolving to nothing. Malefax the Infinite is no more.
The shockwave ripples through the room. The antimagic cone collapses with a sound like shattering glass. A long, hollow exhale passes through the stone—centuries of necrotic pressure bleeding away all at once. The air stirs for the first time since the Howlbears entered this tomb.
Then—silence.
Uptharr’s ashes drift to the floor in a slow, silver snowfall.
The remaining skeleton wardens crumple like puppets with their strings cut. The red glow in their eyes flickers out. Corrupted vines withdraw into cracks as if trying to hide from the light.
But peace does not return.
A sickly green-black pulse crawls beneath Azalie’s skin—faint glowing filaments racing along her veins like wildfire. Malefax’s rot still lives in her, now masterless and searching.
Where the Beholder once floated, a sphere of obsidian light lingers, suspended as if reluctant to fall. A stone dais rises beneath it, ancient and waiting. The Oculus of Malefax—black crystal veined with red lightning—lowers onto the rune-etched pedestal with a soft crystalline chime.
The air around it hums like a heartbeat trapped in stone.
You have found it.
The artifact Xal’Zyress demanded.
The relic the Alhoon sought.
The last intact shard of a dead god’s soul.
The battle is over.But nothing in this chamber feels finished.
Treasure Found
With the death of the Beholder, several things become visible in the now-still haze:
1. A cracked chardalyn chest
Half-buried at the back of the platform, sealed with sigils that sputter but remain intact.
Inside:
various gems and precious stones
A scroll case holding two intact spells
2. Uptharr’s holy symbol
No longer glowing—just warm, as if it mourns.
Nothing else stirs.
The Runed Door
Behind the shattered remnants of Malefax’s hovering prison, a massive stone door stands revealed—its surface cracked but intact, as though the collapse deliberately spared it. Dust rolls from its seams, carrying the dry scent of rust and old ozone, like a vault waking after a thousand years of silence.
Across its face, fresh runes ignite in lines of deep crimson. You shouldn't be able to read the runes, yet they are clear to you. they say:
“POWER HONORED, POWER FREED.PROVE YOUR CLAIM AND THE WAY SHALL OPEN.”
A test—final, deliberate, and unmistakably tied to the Oculus.
The chamber is quiet now, waiting. The door’s grooves form a recess shaped precisely for the orb. Whatever lies beyond, it is not back toward Xal’Zyress. It is a way forward… perhaps even a way out.
Mellon shrieks overhead as Azalie stumbles when her foot lands. The green-black glow now reaches her collarbone—faint shapes like fungal filaments crawling under the skin.
Without a cure, she won’t last long.
And the rot seems to react to the Oculus’s presence—pulsing in sync, like it recognizes a piece of itself.
XP Awarded
Treasure Added
Current Time: 9:57 PM
Date: Ninthday, 29, Alturiak, 1742
Temperature: 61°
Current Phase: Exploration
Corruption Level: Level 1 - Orin, Mutt, Dorf, Uptharr.
The Aftermath
The silence after Malefax’s death is deeper than any spell, as if the whole chamber is holding its breath.
Mutt’s spirit guardians fade on their own, no longer needed. The air tastes different now—lighter, less suffocating—but grief hangs heavier than any necrotic pressure ever did.
What is happening?
The glow of something unnatural blinds Azalie momentarily. She had just landed a few healthy blows on the beholder… but why can’t she see Uptharr?
Azalie watches as Mutt screams and throws water. He’s screaming, but she can’t make out the words through the ringing in her ears. She still can’t see Uptharr. The beholder melts before her eyes, its body collapsing in on itself.
“Finally, you fuck!” she screams out as his last bit of ichor dries up. “Don’t mess with the How—”
Her eyes catch the dim holy symbol on the ground. She knows it’s his, but he clearly just dropped it. A rush of pain spreads through her body, sharp and rising. She has no time to spend on it. She still can’t see Uptharr.
All at once, silence falls over her. Her ears pound with pressure, her eyes lying to her.
“…up… Uptharr?” she calls out, hoping he’s just hidden somewhere she can’t reach.
Azalie falls to the ground with Mellon floating behind her. She stumbles as her feet hit the stone, her eyes darting, her head snapping around, back and forth. Yet she still can’t see him.
“Where… where is he?” She sniffles. “What happened? Where is Uptharr?!” Her voice thunders through the chasm, raw and demanding.
She pulls her flameblade and starts slashing and screaming, each strike more frantic than the last. Her body is failing, her spirit breaking. She slams the blade down over and over as she approaches the pendant.
Her hands can’t hold the hilt any longer. She falls to the ground, grasping at the dust that was once her ally. Sobbing fills the chambers, her heart audibly breaking. All of her submits to the illness creeping in.
Azalie feels her breath slowing, wanting to stop.
“Mutt…” The tears wet the dirt around her. “Can you bring him back?” She pulls herself up just enough for him to see her eyes. “Please? For me.”
Her body fails, and she passes out.
Mutt breathes raggedly through his teeth as he watches Malefax dissolve into dust. He carefully scans the room looking for additional hidden threats or any sign that Malefax might not yet be dead. He keeps his spirit guardians up, just in case.
"Fizz! Azalie needs your help to get rid of that rot! Quickly!"
After several moments of unsettling quiet, Mutt finally acknowledges the threat is over and forces himself to face what just happened. Mutt can't even look at the dark orb left behind by the beholder.
"Orin, we need to secure that thing, but I wouldn't touch it directly. Let me know what you need to make that happen."
He walks slowly over to where the paladin fell, watching in subdued silence as Azalie rages in her grief. He doesn't say anything as she collapses to her knees. He simply sits with her and holds her in this moment of grief. The look on her face when she asks Mutt to bring him back almost breaks him. There was a time where he could have spared someone from death, before the drow took his collection of diamonds. He looks at the pile of ash and shakes his head. Even if he still had the diamonds, he doubted there was anything he could do to bring the paladin back. He looks down at the ranger and whispers, "Azalie, I'm sorry...".
Settling her down gently, he picks up Uptharr's holy symbol and holds it reverently in his hands for a moment. He wordlessly places the symbol around his neck before starting the meticulous process of gathering the paladin's ashes. Uptharr may be gone, but Mutt sure as hell wasn't going to leave him down here.
Mutt gathers the ashes with reverence, and as he does, a faint warmth radiates from the paladin’s holy symbol. Not magic—just memory. Just faith.
Uptharr is gone. No spell in this chamber can return him.
But ashes gathered with love are not beyond hope. There are temples—saints—rituals older than even Icewind Dale’s first stone. If the Howlbears choose to seek them someday, Uptharr may yet walk again.
For now, the symbol rests against Mutt’s chest like a quiet promise.
Orin stands among the settling dust, the remnants of Malefax drifting like dying embers. His eyes rest first on the silver ash scattered across the floor. He steps closer, kneeling beside the shallow mound Mutt has gathered. The glow of his runes dims to a soft, mournful blue.
He bows his head.
Uptharr had stood before gods and monsters without flinching. A man like that should not end in silence.
Missing the final sequence of the fight from his hiding place, Fizz peeks around the corner and sees the Beholder crumble to the ground. "Yes! Finally!" he exclaims. Quickly scrambling through the scattered bones and debris from the fight, Fizz removes his vanishing charm, and returns to his natural form, then gently places his hands on Azalie's head and murmurs a soft chant in Druidic.
"That's some real nasty magic Ms. Azzy! Just relax and I'll see if I can get it out of you ok?"
Fizz’s hands glow with soft druidic warmth, weaving through the green-black filaments beneath her skin. His magic settles onto her like cool water quenching fevered coals. The rot does not retreat, but its frantic advance slows to a crawl. The pain dulls. Her breathing evens.
Fizz’s healing chant steadies Azalie, but when her eyes flutter open the sickness is unmistakable. Her skin is clammy, veins faintly darkened, and every movement feels heavy and uncooperative—as if her own body resists her.
Fizz recognizes it instantly: the rot is no longer spreading quickly, but it will kill her if they do not find a true cure within days. Even now, her strength is halved—her body simply cannot hold more than half its life, and the infection drags at every thought and muscle.
Azalie's Hit Point Maximum is 50% - this will progress each day, worsening until the disease claims her life.
Fully focused on Azalie, Fizz doesn't catch the vibe of the group until the healing is complete. Looking around at the saddened faces, and quiet contemplation, he starts to realize that something is wrong.... and then it dawns on him.
"Oh no... where's Mr. Uptharr?" Seeing Mutt gently scooping up the silver ash, he spots the holy symbol, and gasps. "No, no no... he was so brave!" Fizz turns to Azalie and buries his face in her shoulder, hugging her fiercely. "I'm so sorry Ms Azzy. I coudn't get to him!" Fizz breaks down in tears, his small shoulders shaking with sobs.
When Orin rises, resolve steels his features. He turns toward the hovering sphere of obsidian light.
“All right,” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else, “let’s see what you are.”
The Oculus reacts the moment Orin extends his hand, a shimmer of warped Weave rippling over its surface. Crimson veins crackle faintly, crawling like lightning beneath obsidian glass.
Orin’s Arcana check reveals:
Touching it directly would sear the mind with leftover memories of Malefax.
Wrapped or contained, it is safe—but heavy, far heavier than stone should be.
It is not the source of Azalie’s rot, but the energies resonate—the same strain of necrotic psionics.
Breaking its influence on her would require greater restoration or stronger divine magic.
The Oculus is unquestionably the key to the runed door.
After examining the Oculus, he kneels beside the cracked chardalyn chest. He brushes away dust, and carefully lifts the scroll case. His eyes scan the sigils. “A dangerous summoning… and a spell to enchant a weapon,” he murmurs. “I may be able to learn that one, but the summoning is best left only for the most dire of circumstances, and probably better to never be used at all.”
His gaze returns one last time to Uptharr’s ashes.
“Your fight isn’t over. We’ll carry the rest.”
The Runed Door
Behind the remains of Malefax’s prison, the massive stone door waits, runes glowing with steady crimson light:
“POWER HONORED, POWER FREED.PROVE YOUR CLAIM AND THE WAY SHALL OPEN.”
The grooves in its center form a hollow perfectly shaped for the Oculus.
Where the rest of the complex feels suffocating and downward, the faintest draft moves beneath this door—cool, fresh, almost like air not touched by the Underdark.
The way ahead is not back to Xal’Zyress.
Mutt then walks towards the door and starts to ritual cast Tiny Hut to try and buy the Howlbears a moment of safety and a time to grieve.
As Tiny Hut finishes forming, a protective dome shimmering into existence, the chamber finally feels safe—for a moment.
Hruna kneels beside Mutt, her voice cracking. Fizz cries openly into Azalie’s shoulder. Orin stands guard, clutching the black orb that nearly doomed them all. Dorf watches the hall in case the dead decide to rise one last time.
For the first time since entering this abyss, the Howlbears are not fighting, fleeing, or dying.
They are simply breathing.
And breathing, in this place, is victory enough.
You have survived. For now.
Next Posts:
Decide who is taking the Oculus, and how you are touching and storing it.
Provide any posts for flavor during the rest in the hutt.
Decide your next direction - you can use the Oculus to open the runed door and proceed that direction, or you can try return to the start of the dungeon and back to Xal'Zyress.
Claim all treasure you want.
Bring Hunger and Thirst into compliance (Hunger < 24 hours,
Thirst < 12 hours)
Azalie's Condition is dire - her disease will progress each day that she isn't cured, Fizz's lesser restoration slowed her decay, but it's not a permament cure - currently she has 50% HP and disadvantage on all rolls. She feels sick, like a bad flu, and is in a decent amount of pain.
Current Time: 6:00 AM
Date: Tenthday, 30, Alturiak, 1742
Temperature: 61°
Current Phase: Exploration
Corruption Level: Ended, the dungeon corruption has been purged.
Player Replies
As the Tiny Hut spell takes hold for the first time since they've been down here, Mutt allows himself to relax a degree. Removing the bedroll from his pack, he leaves it rolled up and places it under Azalie's head while Fizz finishes casting Lesser Restoration on Azalie. Her breathing seems to steady and the greying rot that was spreading throughout her arms has stopped progressing but doesn't go away. Mutt frowns inwardly as her color remains pallid and her breathing weak. Mutt looks down and sees the look of concern still on the gnome healer's face as Azalie doesn't fully recover. Forcing a smile for the sake of the rest of the group, he places a hand on Fizz's…
Dorf watches his friends as they try to recover from the fight, he knows they are hurting just as much as he is from losing Uptharr. He steels himself against the pain pushing it down deep inside where it will fuel his rage in the future. He will deal with the grief someday, but today he needs to see his remaining friends safely out of this dungeon. Guilt weighs heavily on him as he realizes Uptharr would still be alive if he hadn’t dragged them all down here to save Hruna. Dorf paces the hallway looking for anything hidden or out of place, trying to distract his mind from the terror of his friend disintegrating in front of his eyes.…
Missing the final sequence of the fight from his hiding place, Fizz peeks around the corner and sees the Beholder crumble to the ground. "Yes! Finally!" he exclaims. Quickly scrambling through the scattered bones and debris from the fight, Fizz gently places his hands on Azalie's head and murmurs a soft chant in Druidic. "That's some real nasty magic Ms. Azzy! Just relax and I'll see if I can get it out of you ok?" Fully focused on Azalie, Fizz doesn't catch the vibe of the group until the healing is complete. Looking around at the saddened faces, and quiet contemplation, he starts to realize that something is wrong.... and then it dawns on him. "Oh no... where's M…
Orin stands among the settling dust, the remnants of Malefax drifting like dying embers. His eyes rest first on the silver ash scattered across the floor. He steps closer, kneeling beside the shallow mound Mutt has gathered. The glow of his runes dims to a soft, mournful blue.
He bows his head.
Uptharr had stood before gods and monsters without flinching. A man like that should not end in silence.
When Orin rises, resolve steels his features. He turns toward the hovering sphere of obsidian light. “All right,” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else, “let’s see what you are.” (Arcana check. If Azalie is successfully restored already, Orin is less concerned. If not, he's looking to see if…
Mutt breathes raggedly through his teeth as he watches Malefax dissolve into dust. He carefully scans the room looking for additional hidden threats or any sign that Malefax might not yet be dead. He keeps his spirit guardians up, just in case. "Fizz! Azalie needs your help to get rid of that rot! Quickly!"
After several moments of unsettling quiet, Mutt finally acknowledges the threat is over and forces himself to face what just happened. Mutt can't even look at the dark orb left behind by the beholder. "Orin, we need to secure that thing, but I wouldn't touch it directly. Let me know what you need to make that happen."
He walks slowly over to where the paladin fell,…