session next
Turn on echo
The constant noise of the waterfall is maddening.
As your consciousness reluctantly returns to the realm of existence, a searing ache consumes your weary body. Slowly, your eyes flutter open, revealing a suffocating dampness that surrounds you. Within the confines of this clammy cave, an eerie pale light emanates from an unfathomable source near a stagnant pool, casting disorienting shadows that writhe and contort like the fevered nightmares of a deranged mind.
An unsettling revelation strikes you as you attempt to rise, only to discover your limbs ensnared by sinewy bindings, akin to slimy seaweed that clings with a loathsome grip. Stripped of any protective armor, you find yourself stripped of all defenses, your vulnerability accentuated by sodden garments that cling to your flesh, leaving you feeling naked and exposed.
Four grotesque figures, the Koa-Toa, loom over you in silent vigilance, their alien forms engaged in incomprehensible discourse. The repugnant slither of their moistened tongues invades your ears, intertwining with the deafening symphony of the cascading waterfall that surrounds you. Desperately, you survey your surroundings and discover three other prisoners, ensnared like sacrificial offerings in a macabre spectacle.
With bated breath, you endeavor to free yourself from your bonds, every motion fraught with fear that the guards will unveil your escape attempt. The sinewy bonds strain and snap with a sickening wetness, gradually granting you liberation from their slimy grasp. And in a synchronized dance of freedom, the others rise from their bonds, their eyes reflecting the same desperation that dwells within your own soul.
Together, a silent pact forged by shared horror, you approach your captors, resolve settling over you. Spells crackle, fists clench, prepared to unleash a storm of retribution upon those who sought to rob you of freedom.
The ensuing moments blur into a symphony of violence, as arcane incantations intertwine with the sickening snap of broken necks. Two of the Koa-Toa survive the initial onslaught, their gaze falling upon the mangled corpses of their fallen brethren. Yet, in a surge of brutal determination, you unleash a final assault, until all four of the slimy abominations lie lifeless at your feet, twisted monuments to your desperation.
Smoke tendrils rise from the charred remains of the fallen, their life forces extinguished in a macabre spectacle. Necks twisted at unnatural angles, a grotesque testament to the brutality of your liberation. Trembling hands hang at your sides. The taste of freedom is tainted by a lingering darkness that clings to your very essence, as if an unseen specter awaits in the shadowed corners, ready to drag you deeper into this sodden hell.
Casting fearful glances at one another, your companions mirror the unease that gnaws at your soul.
The constant noise of the waterfall is maddening.
F3 on the Voxal window
Fifi, Magni, and Namier, you finally get a good look at your cell mate.
Emerging from the shadows strides a figure with an air of quiet intensity. Standing at an average height, her lithe form cloaked in what appears to have once been a crimson shirt with the insignia of the hunters emblazoned across her chest, is a tiefling with flaming hair that dances and flickers as if ignited by some otherworldly power. Draped around her neck is a pendant fashioned in the likeness of a blazing sword, serving as a sacred emblem of Tempus, the revered deity of warfare.
The flickering flames, hues of vibrant oranges and reds, cascade down her head like a fiery waterfall, the heat radiating from her hair adding an ethereal glow to her sharp features. Her eyes pierce you and glimmer with a mixture of intensity and weariness, hinting at a past marked by turmoil and strife.
With each step, the tiefling’s presence demands attention. Her every movement is precise and deliberate, as if treading carefully on the precipice of a hidden danger.
A dour expression, etched upon her face, accentuates her dark allure. The corners of her mouth slightly downturned, as if burdened by the weight of a thousand sorrows. Yet, in those intense eyes, there resides a glimmer of determination and unwavering resolve, defying the odds that might have broken others.
How do you greet each other?
F3 on the Voxal window
As you cautiously gather your wits, an overwhelming sense of dread permeates the air, shrouding the cavern in a foreboding atmosphere. The oppressive darkness engulfs you, its weight pressing down upon your very soul. The ceiling, an endless expanse of obscurity, seems to defy comprehension, reaching far beyond the feeble glow of the light or dark vision. It looms threateningly overhead, a colossal abyss that hungers for your annihilation.
Within this abyss, the stones encircling the murky pool emit an otherworldly glow, casting a sickly, pallid light that flickers and dances like the ethereal phantoms of forgotten nightmares. Its feeble luminescence serves only to accentuate the grotesque and alien nature of the cavern, revealing unsettling shapes and shadows that twist and writhe, defying all known laws of nature.
A shallow yet treacherous river courses through the chamber, its pale waters gleaming with an unsettling, unnatural sheen. As it flows past a towering stone column that pierces the void above, the very essence of eldritch terror seems to emanate from its ancient surface.
The river, with its hypnotic current, disappears into the inky depths that lie beyond the reach of any light. Its eerie echoes whisper of unknown horrors and hidden secrets, luring the foolhardy to venture further into the labyrinthine passages that exist beyond mortal perception. The very notion of a pathway existing within that abyss sends a chill coursing through your veins, for it promises an endless descent into an unfathomable void of cosmic malevolence.
The constant noise of the waterfall is maddening.
F3 on the Voxal window
What do you do?
F3 on the Voxal window
As you succumb to the irresistible pull of the river’s unholy current, you descend deeper into the abyssal depths, the ever-present weight of dread pressing upon your soul. The passage of time becomes distorted, lost in the current that swirls and eddies around you, tugging at the fragile threads of your sanity.
In the labyrinthine depths of this eldritch waterway, your mind becomes ensnared, caught in a perpetual cycle of disorientation and confusion. Waves of vertigo wash over you as your thoughts spin and twirl, drawn into a maddening vortex that threatens to consume your very essence. Lost within the cyclical dance of the river’s current, the boundaries between reality and nightmare blur, leaving you adrift in a disorienting void.
When fleeting moments of lucidity break through the swirling haze, you find yourself gasping for breath, disoriented and unsure of your own existence. The fabric of reality warps and shifts, leaving you with a lingering sense of unease and an unshakeable feeling of being detached from the world around you. The river’s insidious influence seeps into your mind, infecting your thoughts with its chaotic undertow.
As you struggle to reclaim your sense of self, each return to consciousness leaves you dizzied and off-kilter. It is as if the very fabric of your being has been woven into the tapestry of the river’s madness, forever entangled within its treacherous depths. The water’s relentless whispers beckon you further into the spiraling abyss, its siren song luring you deeper into the heart of cosmic chaos.
With each passing moment, you become more entwined with the river’s enigmatic power, your mind a vessel adrift in its tumultuous current. Reality fragments and reforms, leaving you perpetually teetering on the precipice of comprehension. The river’s macabre dance ensnares you, seizing your thoughts in an ever-tightening grip, as you continue your descent into the abysmal depths, caught in an eternal spiral of confusion and disorientation.
F3 on the Voxal window
Everyone make a Wisdom saving throw.
DC 15
F3 on the Voxal window
Success:
With a fleeting moment of respite, the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm your senses dissipates, leaving you with a renewed clarity of mind. The disorienting veil lifts, allowing you to steady yourself and press forward once more, undeterred by the previous disturbance.
Failure: -1 to sanity
As the relentless vortex of the river’s influence tightens its grip on your fragile mind, the overwhelming dizziness intensifies, threatening to unravel your very sanity. With a profound sense of unease, your legs buckle beneath you, surrendering to the weight of your own existential torment. Collapsing into the shallow, murky waters, you are consumed by the chilling embrace of the river, its eerie touch seeping into your weary bones.
In this harrowing moment, you realize the futility of pressing forward without respite. The need for a brief rest, a fleeting moment of reprieve from the maddening current, becomes an undeniable truth. The world around you warps and distorts, as if reality itself bends to accommodate the weight of your exhaustion.
Lying in the shallow river, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and weariness, you find solace in the twisted lullaby of the waters. The rhythmic murmurs and gurgles that surround you echo with eldritch secrets, enticing you to succumb to their seductive call. You close your eyes, attempting to shut out the disorienting visuals that assail your senses, and focus on the disconcerting symphony of the river’s song.
Time becomes an amorphous construct as you drift between wakefulness and a fevered dream state. The waters lap against your submerged form, their touch both soothing and sinister. Shadows dance and intertwine, their macabre ballet seeping into the fabric of your mind. The river, once a conduit of escape, now becomes a font of enigmatic introspection.
In this surreal interlude, you grapple with the knowledge that respite can be as elusive as sanity in this twisted realm. The brief pause you seek to regain composure may only serve to deepen the tendrils of the river’s influence, drawing you further into its unfathomable depths. But still, the need for respite persists, compelling you to surrender to the currents of the shallow river, if only for a moment, before the inexorable journey forward resumes.
F3 on the Voxal window
What do you do?
After an agonizing passage of time, your mind slowly emerges from the maddening haze that enveloped it. Several minutes stretch into an eternity as you grapple with the tendrils of dizziness and disorientation, each moment a torturous crawl towards clarity. The oppressive weight that burdened your thoughts begins to dissipate, unveiling a fragile semblance of lucidity.
With trembling limbs, you summon the last remnants of your resolve and push yourself upright, the world around you swaying and contorting in response to your feeble efforts. As your gaze steadies, you find yourself standing once more, your body a vessel of determination in the face of unfathomable horrors.
Yet, with the return of your physical faculties, a chilling realization settles upon your soul. The respite you sought, the brief intermission from the ceaseless tide of chaos, may have served only to sharpen your awareness of the incomprehensible forces that lie ahead. The very act of regaining your footing feels like a defiant gesture against the malevolent currents that seek to consume your sanity.
As you prepare to proceed, a tremor of anticipation courses through your veins. The air hangs heavy with an otherworldly tension, and the path that stretches before you seems to twist and writhe with an unsettling sentience. Shadows dance and morph, their sinister choreography a reminder of the shifting nature of this eldritch realm.
You brace yourself, ready to venture forth into the unknown, your every instinct urging caution and wariness. The memory of the river’s insidious embrace lingers, a cautionary tale of the treacherous path that lies ahead. Your mind teeters on the precipice of fear and fascination, knowing that each step forward brings you closer to the edge of sanity.
The echoes of distant whispers assail your ears, the voices of forgotten entities and ancient terrors beckoning from unseen recesses. The boundaries of reality grow ever thinner, threatening to unravel at any moment, exposing the unfathomable abyss that lurks beyond the veil of perception.
With resolute determination, you steel yourself against the encroaching darkness, knowing that the path ahead is fraught with peril and unutterable secrets. The uncertainty of your fate intertwines with a perverse curiosity, propelling you forward into the abysmal depths, where the horrors of the cosmos await, hungrily anticipating your descent into their eldritch embrace.
The constant noise of the river is maddening.
F3 on the Voxal window
What are you all doing?
F3 on the Voxal window
As the relentless passage of time becomes an enigma in this labyrinthine tunnel, your perception of its duration warps and distorts. Minutes blend into hours, hours stretch into days, and the boundaries of temporal existence blur into an indistinguishable haze. Lost in this eldritch continuum, you press onward, propelled by a relentless determination to escape the clutches of this enigmatic realm.
Weeks, perhaps even longer, have passed since your journey began. The weight of accumulated horrors bears down upon your weary soul, leaving you worn and weathered, a mere fragment of the person you once were. The tunnel stretches out before you, an ominous gateway to the unknown, shrouded in the ever-present gloom that permeates this twisted domain.
The ceaseless river, an unyielding companion in your torturous odyssey, abruptly veers off to the right, disappearing into a narrow fissure in the unforgiving rock. Its departure leaves behind a foreboding silence, as if the very essence of the river recoils from the path that lies ahead. The air grows stagnant, heavy with the scent of damp stone and decay.
To your left, the tunnel takes an abrupt turn, its once fluid nature replaced by the slimy touch of ancient stone. The change in texture elicits a primal unease, as if the very fabric of reality has shifted, revealing hidden truths that lie just beyond the reach of mortal comprehension. It is a path that beckons, even as it repulses, promising answers and treacherous revelations.
Though the fissure proves too narrow for any of you to traverse, you cannot help but feel a twinge of curiosity about the path that awaits to the right. The slimy stones, slick with the residue of forgotten epochs, hint at secrets long entombed within the depths of this accursed place. A whispered yearning stirs within, urging you to venture forth, to uncover the mysteries that lie in wait.
With faltering steps, your companions and you proceed down this newfound passage, your senses acutely attuned to the ethereal whispers that echo through the damp corridors. The shadows dance and writhe along the walls, their grotesque ballet a testament to the eldritch forces that permeate this forsaken realm.
The passage stretches on, its destination unknown, a treacherous path through realms that defy mortal comprehension. Time becomes a mere illusion, its grasp slipping further as you venture deeper into the abyss. And as you tread upon the slimy stone, the air heavy with the weight of forgotten eons, you steel yourself for the revelations that await in the lightless recesses of this abhorrent domain.
The silence is maddening.
F3 on the Voxal window
What are you all doing?
F3 on the Voxal window
As you press on, the transition from the rough cavern walls to meticulously cut stones evokes a disconcerting sense of purposeful design. The once uneven floor transforms into flagstones, each step resonating with a haunting echo. Algae and coral cling to the walls, their growth a testament to the presence of water that once permeated this subterranean passage. Did this forsaken corridor lie beneath the ocean floor, a forgotten realm submerged beneath the weight of the sea?
Years, an immeasurable expanse of time, have slipped through your grasp as you navigated the treacherous depths of this primordial labyrinth. Each moment carried the weight of unfathomable horrors, etching themselves into the very fabric of your being. Yet, an ethereal beacon beckons from the distance, a faint pale light that pierces the oppressive darkness.
With every step forward, the light grows in intensity, casting eerie shadows that twist and contort. Your heart races with a mixture of dread and anticipation, the interminable corridor unfurls before you, a yawning chasm of obscurity. Its depths give way to an enigmatic chamber, where an abhorrent sight awaits as the shape silhouetted in the radiance defies comprehension. Your mind struggles to process its form, as if it exists beyond the realms of mortal perception. A ship’s bow emerges from the depths, entombed in the heart of this passageway, a haunting relic of a forgotten maritime tragedy.
The sight before you defies logic and reason, as if the boundaries of reality have unraveled to reveal a grotesque amalgamation of worlds. Are you in the realm of the living or the domain of ancient gods? The very fabric of existence is unraveled before your eyes, and you question the fragile thread that tethers your consciousness to this nightmarish existence.
Change map.
F3 on the Voxal window
Roll initiative.
What do you do?
Arrive at the doors
F3 on the Voxal window
A pair of towering double doors loom before you, hewn from solid stone with an air of ancient malevolence. Though their surface appears unadorned and devoid of intricate carvings, an undercurrent of sinister energy emanates from their weathered facade. The passage of time has left its mark upon the handles, their once polished surfaces now worn and corroded by the weight of ages.
A peculiar sight greets your eyes, for the surface of the doors bears an unholy tapestry of growth. Coral formations, like grotesque tendrils of the deep, cling to the rugged stone surface. Their otherworldly hues and twisted contours lend an eerie, organic presence to the cold, unyielding material. It is as though the very essence of the sea has permeated the doors, imbuing them with an eldritch vitality.
Yet, despite their ancient appearance, the hinges stand resolute and well-maintained, their metallic luster a stark contrast to the weathered exterior. These gates have witnessed the passage of countless souls, the opening and closing of realms both forbidden and unknown. The rhythm of their movement, creaking and groaning, resonates with the weight of untold secrets and whispered nightmares that lurk beyond.
As you stand before these menacing portals, a surge of trepidation courses through your veins. The air itself seems to thicken with anticipation, and an unspoken warning echoes in the depths of your being. The handles beckon, their aged visage a testament to the countless hands that have ventured to unlock the forbidden mysteries concealed beyond. The decision to grasp those handles, to push open the doors and step into the unknown, lies heavy upon your heart. Will you dare to breach the threshold of the enigma that lies shrouded behind this imposing gateway?
F3 on the Voxal window
What do you do?
Entering the Basin chambers
F3 on the Voxal window
You traverse a chamber cloaked in an ethereal pallor, suffused with a sickly luminescence that pierces the darkness. The room unfolds before you, revealing a haunting sight. At its heart rests a stone sarcophagus, ancient and weathered, an enigmatic vessel teeming with mysteries yet unveiled. Each corner of the chamber harbors a basin, brimming with otherworldly waters that pulsate with eldritch energies. The very essence of arcane power dances within their depths, swirling and writhing like serpents in a macabre ballet.
As your eyes adjust to the unearthly radiance, they fall upon four figures, each positioned before one of the enigmatic basins, channeling their eldritch might. The first two are Kuo-Toa, their bodies glistening with slimy sheen, bearing the unmistakable visage of the denizens of the watery abyss. Their lithe forms contort in serpentine motions, their alien tongues weaving spells beyond mortal comprehension. The ebb and flow of their incantations meld with the restless waters, creating a symphony of unholy resonance.
Beside them stands a lizardfolk, its scaly hide adorned with intricate patterns that seem to pulsate with a sinister glow. With a grace belying its reptilian form, it weaves potent enchantments, drawing upon the ancient and arcane forces that course through its veins. The very air crackles with primal energy as its eldritch incantations intermingle with the eerie radiance emanating from the basin before it.
Completing the unholy quartet is a Sahuagin, a fearsome creature of the deep, its lithe and muscular frame exuding a predatory aura. The Sahuagin’s eyes gleam with an unholy fervor as it delves deep into the forbidden arts, evoking ancient rites that resonate with the wrath of the sea itself. Its webbed fingers trace sigils in the air, invoking power from unseen depths and infusing the surrounding waters with an even greater malevolence.
Together, these eldritch practitioners stand, their forms bathed in the pale, ominous light that permeates the chamber. Their collective sorceries intertwine, weaving a tapestry of forbidden knowledge and unspeakable power. The very fabric of reality quivers in their presence, as the convergence of their sinister arts augurs an impending cataclysm that transcends mortal comprehension.
In this chamber of arcane mastery and foreboding enchantments, the boundary between the mortal realm and the realms of the unfathomable blurs. The pale light casts haunting shadows upon the stone sarcophagus, hinting at secrets locked within its ancient confines. With trepidation, you stand witness to a convergence of eldritch prowess, caught in the crosscurrents of their malevolent incantations.
F3 on the Voxal window
Everyone make a Wisdom saving throw.
DC 15
Success:
An insidious presence slithers its way into the recesses of your consciousness like an unseen serpent coiling around your thoughts. Malevolence gnaws at the edges of your mind, attempting to sow seeds of doubt and fear. But you steel yourself against its sinister influence, mustering all your strength to shake off its insidious grip.
With grim determination, you push aside the nagging whispers and unsettling sensations, focusing solely on the dire threat that lies before you. The scratching tendrils of darkness clawing at your thoughts dissipate momentarily, forced back by your unwavering resolve. It is as if a primal instinct within you awakens, refusing to succumb to the encroaching abyss.
Failure: -1 to sanity
A sudden surge of malevolence engulfs your senses, overwhelming your perception of reality. The boundaries of your mind blur as horrific visions assault your consciousness. Unspeakable terrors, grotesque monstrosities, and unimaginable horrors flicker before your eyes with an intensity that threatens to shatter your sanity.
The veil of sanity trembles as the eldritch visions seep into your very being, threatening to tear apart the fragile threads of your mind. Your psyche recoils in terror, struggling to comprehend the incomprehensible. It is as if the dark recesses of the cosmos have unfurled their darkest secrets, unleashing a deluge of forbidden knowledge upon your fragile mortal senses.
But amidst the chaos, a flicker of resilience emerges. With every ounce of your willpower, you claw your way back from the brink of madness. Slowly, the maddening visions recede, dissipating like wisps of smoke, leaving behind a lingering sense of dread and unease.
You find yourself gasping for breath, your heart pounding within your chest, as you regain control over your shaken senses. The remnants of the malevolence linger, like a foul odor permeating the air, but you stand firm, refusing to succumb to its insidious influence.
As your mind steadies, you confront the aftermath of the horrific onslaught. The unspeakable visions may have scarred your psyche, leaving indelible marks upon your consciousness,
F3 on the Voxal window
You are stunned for one round.What do you do?
Entering the pit room
F3 on the Voxal window
As the double doors swing open, a putrid gust of air assaults your senses with its noxious presence. The stench is overwhelming, an amalgamation of decay, rot, and ancient malice. It clings to the back of your throat, threatening to suffocate your breath with its fetid embrace.
But what follows is even more unsettling. As the doors widen, the stagnant atmosphere within the chamber surges inward, as if the very chamber itself is drawing a breath. The air rushes past you with an eerie force, whispering secrets of forgotten eons as it escapes into the surrounding darkness.
You stand there, caught between the realms of anticipation and trepidation, as the chamber’s breath washes over you. It is as if the room itself is alive, a dormant entity rousing from its slumber, inhaling deeply before the forthcoming confrontation. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, a subtle reminder that you have stepped into a domain where the boundaries between the living and the unknowable become blurred.
The oppressive air retreats, leaving you momentarily suspended in a surreal stillness. The chamber exhales its noxious breath, revealing a macabre sanctuary shrouded in shadow and enigma. The mystery that awaits beyond the threshold is palpable, stirring a mixture of curiosity and dread within your heart.
You steel yourself against the otherworldly forces that seem to animate the very air around you. The chamber’s eerie respiration serves as a chilling reminder of the malevolent forces that lie in wait, ready to challenge your every step.
F3 on the Voxal window
Everyone make a dexterity saving throw
DC 12
Success:
You resist the pull of the wind and remain standing.
Failure: -1 to sanity
You are knocked off your feet and sucked into the room. You land prone.
F3 on the Voxal windowChanting reverberates through the chamber, its eerie cadence permeating the air and mingling with the shadows that cloak the space. The words spoken are incomprehensible, an ancient and eldritch language that strikes a dissonant chord within your soul.
As your gaze pierces through the veil of darkness, the shape of a pit materializes before you. Its edges glisten with an unnerving array of massive teeth, jagged and uneven, as if hewn from the depths of nightmares. The pit yawns wide, an insatiable maw ready to consume and devour all that dare approach.
Within the depths of the pit, a creature seems, melded with the very essence of the earth itself. It writhes and squirms with an unnatural vitality, defying the boundaries of conventional life.
At the precipice of the pit stands a Kuo-Toa, its scaled form swaying in a rhythmic dance of fervor. Its voice rises above the chanting, its words infused with fanatic devotion to dark powers. The abomination within the pit responds, its monstrous resonance joining in a discordant harmony with the Kuo-Toa’s invocations.
From the depths of the shadows on the other side of the pit, two hideous voices join the chorus of incantations. Their tones are guttural and bestial, filled with an unearthly malice that sends chills down your spine. These unseen entities, shrouded in darkness, lend their power to the ritual, their intentions cloaked in sinister mystery.
The chamber pulses with an ominous energy, an intersection of forbidden knowledge and ancient rites. The air crackles with anticipation, as if the very fabric of reality strains under the weight of the unfolding ceremony. You find yourself caught between repulsion and fascination, drawn to witness the unholy convergence while instinctively knowing the danger that lurks within.
As the chanting reaches a crescendo, the veil of shadows flickers, threatening to unveil the abominations that lie beyond. It is a moment of reckoning, a crossroads where your presence is both inconsequential and pivotal. Whether you choose to confront the horrors that dwell in the depths of the pit or retreat in search of safety, the echoes of their haunting voices will linger in your mind, forever marking this encounter with the harrowing depths of the Lovecraftian unknown.
A primal and overwhelming surge of eldritch horror surges through your being, seizing your soul with a vice-like grip. It is a force that defies comprehension, an assault on your senses that transcends the boundaries of rational thought.
As the shadows dance and writhe, a profound and ancient malevolence permeates the air, suffocating you with its suffocating presence. It is a feeling of being trapped within the darkest recesses of the void, where unspeakable entities lurk and sinister secrets unravel.
Visions flash before your eyes, nightmarish scenes that twist and distort reality. Aberrant shapes and grotesque forms slither through your mind, their existence a blasphemous affront to the laws of nature. Your very perception unravels, fragmented by the incomprehensible horrors that assail your senses.
Whispers echo in your ears, a cacophony of maddening voices that speak in forbidden tongues. They carry ancient knowledge, secrets of the cosmos that no mortal should bear witness to. The weight of this forbidden knowledge threatens to crush your sanity, as the boundaries of your mind strain under the weight of the eldritch revelations.
Your body trembles, convulsing involuntarily as your mind teeters on the precipice of madness. Reality warps and bends, a maelstrom of twisted dimensions that threatens to devour your fragile existence. It is a moment where the frail veil that separates our world from the unfathomable abyss of the unknown is rent asunder, exposing the raw, unforgiving truth of the cosmic horrors that lie beyond.
In this harrowing embrace of eldritch terror, you are faced with a choice: succumb to the alluring embrace of insanity or steel your resolve and confront the unimaginable. But even as your soul quivers under the weight of this cosmic revelation, a fragment of curiosity lingers within, an insatiable thirst for knowledge that drives you further into the abyss.
The strongest feeling of eldritch horror yet felt seizes your soul, forever marking you as one who has stared into the abyss and glimpsed the unfathomable depths.
1st chest
F3 on the Voxal window
Everyone make a Wisdom saving throw
DC 18
F3 on the Voxal window
Sucess:
With every ounce of willpower and fortitude, you claw at the tendrils of otherworldly influence that seek to ensnare your mind. You resist the suffocating grip of madness, fighting against the eldritch forces that threaten to consume your sanity.
Thoughts of reason and logic become your anchor in this tumultuous storm of cosmic horror. You concentrate on the tangible, the known, and the familiar, desperately clinging to the fragments of your own identity.
You draw upon the reservoirs of your inner strength, invoking memories of loved ones, cherished experiences, and the warmth of the sun upon your face. These flickering glimpses of normalcy serve as beacons of light amidst the encroaching darkness.
The whispers of the eldritch abominations claw at the edges of your consciousness, attempting to lure you back into the abyss. Their promises of forbidden knowledge and unimaginable power tempt your very soul. But you resist their siren call, understanding the treacherous nature of such enticements.
Through sheer force of will, you sever the tenuous connection to the eldritch realm, tearing yourself free from its insidious grasp. The malevolent presence recedes, its influence dissipating like a dissipating fog, leaving only the lingering echoes of its dread.
You gasp for breath, your heart pounding in your chest, as a profound sense of relief washes over you. You have triumphed, at least for now, against the unfathomable forces that sought to shatter your mind.
Failure:-2 to sanity
As you gasp for breath, the malevolent pull of evil overwhelms your senses, seizing hold of your very being. A searing agony courses through your mind, as if your skull is being torn asunder by unseen forces. In the depths of your torment, the boundary between reality and nightmare blurs, and your perception becomes distorted.
Visions of unspeakable horrors assault your consciousness, twisting and warping your thoughts. The fabric of your sanity unravels thread by thread, revealing the maddening truth that lies beyond the veil of mortal comprehension. The pain intensifies, as if your mind is being unraveled and rewoven with eldritch strands of chaos and despair.
You hear whispers, ancient and profane, slithering through the recesses of your fractured psyche. They speak in languages long forgotten, carrying secrets that would shatter the fragile stability of the mortal mind. Their words reverberate within your skull, a cacophony of voices that merge into a dissonant symphony of madness.
Reality itself bends and contorts, as if the very fabric of existence is being twisted by the eldritch forces that now hold you captive. Shapes and forms morph and shift, taking on grotesque and nightmarish visages. The boundary between what is real and what is illusion dissolves, leaving you trapped in a realm of abhorrent unreality.
Agonized screams escape your lips, their echoes reverberating through the twisted labyrinth of your tortured psyche. The pain becomes an all-encompassing abyss, engulfing your every thought and sensation. Rationality crumbles, replaced by a churning chaos of fear, despair, and unimaginable horror.
In the depths of this nightmarish torment, you realize that your mind is no longer your own. It has become a vessel for the abhorrent influences that permeate the Lovecraftian realm. Your identity is lost, consumed by the all-consuming darkness that now resides within you.
As the pain reaches its crescendo, your consciousness fades into oblivion, swallowed by the void of eternal madness. Your existence becomes a mere whisper, a flicker in the tapestry of cosmic horror. You believe you are forever lost, ensnared in the clutches of the eldritch powers that lie beyond mortal comprehension. Suddenly you come back to yourself, pulled from the brink.
F3 on the Voxal windowTake 1D8+3 psychic damage.
What do you do?
Enter the single basin room.
F3 on the Voxal windowAs you step into the room, a profound sense of unease washes over you. The air feels heavy with ancient power, and an eerie glow emanates from the depths below. The room is dimly lit, casting long shadows that dance upon the walls.
Descending into the depression, you notice a pair of Kuo-Toa, their eyes gleaming with an unholy fervor, standing guard at the top of the stairs. They wield wickedly curved spears, their slippery bodies adorned with arcane symbols and markings.
In the center of the depression, a circular basin rests on the floor, emanating an otherworldly light that pulses with an unnatural energy. The basin seems to be carved from a material not of this world, its surface swirling with mysterious patterns and sigils. The arcane glow casts an eerie luminescence upon the chamber, revealing glimpses of long-forgotten secrets.
Bathed in the eldritch light, a Sahuagin priestess stands before the basin, her upper body bare, adorned only with intricate tattoos that seem to writhe and shift beneath her pale, scaled skin. Her eyes, like two orbs of abyssal darkness, fix upon you with a mixture of curiosity and malice. She chants in a guttural, ancient tongue, her words carrying a weight of ancient power and forbidden knowledge.
As the priestess continues her incantations, the air crackles with suppressed energy, and a sense of impending doom hangs heavily in the chamber.
F3 on the Voxal window
What do you do?
Enter the treasure rooms
F3 on the Voxal window
As you step into the chamber, your eyes are immediately drawn to a raised platform at the center of the room. Perched upon it, a wooden chest, weathered and worn, rests ominously. The air in the chamber feels heavy with anticipation, as if something ancient and sinister lurks within.
Four Kuo-Toa, their slimy forms quivering with a fanatical fervor, stand guard before the chest. Their bulbous eyes fixate upon you, their fish-like mouths contorting into grotesque grins. They hold rusted tridents in their webbed hands, ready to defend the treasure that lies before them.
The wooden chest, its surface cracked and splintered with age, hints at the riches concealed within. Glints of gold and silver peek through the gaps, promising wealth beyond imagination. Yet, an unmistakable aura of malevolence emanates from the chest, as if it harbors something far more sinister than mere material riches.
Whispers of forbidden secrets echo through the chamber, teasing your senses with the allure of untold power and cursed knowledge. The Kuo-Toa’s presence only deepens the sense of foreboding, as they seem to draw their strength from an ancient, eldritch source.
You stand at a crossroads, torn between the desire for wealth and the instinctual fear of what lies within. The chest calls to you, its siren song tempting you to reach out and claim its treasures. But be warned, for greed often blinds mortals to the true nature of the horrors that await them.
Proceed with caution, for the Kuo-Toa stand as guardians, ready to defend their prize with unwavering loyalty. The choice before you is laden with peril, as the line between temptation and damnation blurs.Open the chest
As you cautiously approach the weathered chest, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation fills your heart. The promise of recovering some of your lost gear stirs a glimmer of hope within you, despite the lurking shadows and eerie ambiance of the chamber.
With trembling hands, you reach out to grasp the rusted latch of the chest. It creaks open, revealing a glimpse of its mysterious contents. Inside, amidst a layer of dust and decay, you find a few of your belongings scattered haphazardly.
A worn leather satchel spills open, revealing a handful of potions, their labels faded and illegible, their true nature uncertain.
A glint of light catches your eye as you unearth a necklace, adorned with a gemstone that shimmers with an otherworldly luminescence. Its origin and purpose remain a mystery, but its beauty is undeniable.
Yet, as you rummage through the chest, it becomes apparent that not all of your belongings have been returned to you. Some items are missing, as if purposely kept elsewhere, adding to the sense of unease that pervades the chamber.
You cannot shake the feeling that your presence here, amidst the eldritch guardians and their malevolent chants, is no mere coincidence. The retrieval of your gear, though a welcome reprieve, feels like a small victory in the face of a far greater, unknown threat.2nd chest
As you open the second chest, a mixture of relief and intrigue washes over you. Finally, your weapons, the ones that were taken from you, have been returned. They lie before you, gleaming with a renewed sense of purpose. The familiar weight and balance of each weapon bring a surge of confidence coursing through your veins.
But there’s something more, something captivating about the other weapons within the chest. Their design is both foreign and mesmerizing, exuding an aura of potent power. Among them is a double-edged greatsword, its blade split between gleaming silver and ominous iron. As you gaze upon it, you can almost feel the conflicting energies pulsating within.
Next, you spot a greataxe with a head crafted from both iron and silver. It emanates a raw strength and primal ferocity that sends shivers down your spine. Its very presence seems to command respect and instill fear in equal measure.
Your eyes then fall upon a pair of gauntlets adorned with silver and iron spikes. As Magni slips them on, a surge of energy courses through his hands, an unyielding determination to conquer any adversary that stands in his way.
You notice a dagger with a blade coated in the same duality of silver and iron. Its slender form belies its deadly potential, promising swift and precise strikes that can pierce through the thickest of defenses.
Finally, your gaze falls upon a gleaming silver javelin, its essence evoking an eldritch aura. It emanates an otherworldly resonance, intangible and ethereal, beyond mortal grasp. As you grasp it, an unsettling sensation envelops your being, as if you are but a fraction tethered to this plane of existence, a profound disconnection from your surroundings.
These strange weapons, with their dual nature and undeniable allure, beckon to you, whispering promises of strength and the ability to face the eldritch horrors that await. They are weapons forged in the crucible of this twisted realm, infused with its malevolent essence.
Though they are unfamiliar to you, their power resonates deep within your being. It is as if they have chosen you as their wielder, offering you a chance to tap into a formidable might that transcends the boundaries of the known world.
With your trusted weapons now returned and these enigmatic arms in your possession, you stand ready to confront the malevolent forces that seek to consume your sanity.
Among the treasure is a relic known as the “Eyes of the Eagle.” This arcane artifact embodies a duality that defies comprehension, an otherworldly fusion of mystic power and unsettling allure.
The Eyes of the Eagle manifest as a pair of ancient, obsidian lenses, their surface etched with intricate, incomprehensible symbols that seem to shift and writhe in an ever-changing pattern. Peering into these abyssal depths reveals an unsettling truth—the wearer is granted a vision that transcends mortal limitations, but at the cost of delving into realms beyond comprehension.
When you don the Eyes of the Eagle, the world around you transforms. Sight becomes distorted, colors warped into a maddening kaleidoscope. You find yourself perceiving the true essence of things, glimpsing the eldritch energies that course through existence. Yet, this newfound clarity is tinged with a sense of unease, for with each glimpse into the unseen, you risk unraveling the fragile fabric of your own sanity.
Through the Eyes of the Eagle, you can perceive secrets hidden from mortal eyes. The mundane becomes extraordinary, as you discern the delicate threads that bind reality together. They grant you an uncanny precision, allowing you to track even the faintest traces left behind by otherworldly entities. You become a beacon of forbidden knowledge, delving deep into the mysteries that lie just beyond the veil of perception.
F3 on the Voxal window
These are all +1 weapons that count as both iron and silver.
Map Change
You venture into a vast chasm, where a subterranean river courses unseen. The cavern's encircling walls teem with eerie coralline formations and enigmatic molluscan entities. Ahead, a ship lies in ruins, its shattered remains hauntingly scattered amidst this erstwhile submerged sanctum. From the stygian depths, the disconcerting echoes of hammers and chisels reverberate, hinting at clandestine laborers toiling in the shadows.
2,275 xp each after the sharks.
Sea Spawn Description:
In the Stygian darkness, a figure materializes before your eyes, its form evoking a chilling sense of the eldritch. Its sinewy frame, both lithe and ominous, bears the hallmarks of a grotesque hybrid, draped in the scales of some unholy union between serpents and aquatic creatures. The sickly hues of its scales, ranging from the pallid greens of decay to the depths of abyssal blue and black, seem to writhe and shimmer with an unsettling luminosity, reminiscent of the glimmering hide of deep-sea dwellers.
Its elongated head, an aberration of nature’s design, holds a semblance of piscine descent, marked by a pronounced brow ridge and large, orb-like eyes that exude a reptilian gaze. The depths of its eyes pierce the veil of reality, yet their eerie luminescence, be it a piercing yellow or a disconcerting green, defies the bounds of mortal comprehension. From its scalp, grotesque appendages dangle, akin to strands of slimy hair or seaweed-like tendrils, swaying languidly with an unnatural motion that speaks of an otherworldly origin.
Webbed digits grace its hands and feet, a grotesque testament to its aquatic ancestry. Each finger and toe terminates in razor-sharp claws, honed for swift and ruthless maneuvering beneath the waves. Its lean musculature bespeaks an agility honed through countless aeons in the depths, an adaptation to the fluid environment it once called home.
Within its maw, a macabre symphony of serrated teeth awaits, their jagged edges an instrument of primal savagery. Perfectly adapted for rending through flesh and bone, they serve as a stark reminder of the creature’s insatiable hunger and the primal horrors that lurk within the recesses of its nature.
Tattered remnants of forgotten attire cling to its form, a vestige of a forgotten existence in realms beyond mortal ken. Decayed and frayed, the garments bear witness to the ravages of time and the ceaseless tides of the abyss. Barnacles encrust its flesh, their calcified forms fused with the entity, while algae and minuscule denizens of the deep cling to its surface, entwined in a grotesque symbiosis that speaks of a desolate existence in the briny depths.
In this abomination’s visage, the amalgamation of repulsive features and the encroaching decay intertwine, forming a grotesque tapestry of the inconceivable. A being that defies comprehension, it serves as a testament to the abhorrent depths that lie hidden beneath the veil of the mundane, whispering of ancient aquatic terrors that now stalk the darkest recesses of your consciousness.
Lizardfolk description:
Looming before you, a towering figure takes shape, its form defying the boundaries of mortal stature. Standing at an imposing height of seven feet, its robust and sinewy physique exudes raw power. Mighty limbs ripple with a primal strength, while broad shoulders speak of untamed might. This creature, a blasphemous hybrid of man and beast, beckons the mind to fathom the depths of cosmic aberration.
Its entire body is encased in scales, a testament to its primeval origins. The scales, an amalgamation of hues plucked from nature's palette, mirror the tones of forgotten realms. From the swampy greens of stagnant marshes to the earthy browns that cloak the hidden groves, and the sandy yellows that mimic the desolate dunes, this arrangement of formidable armor seems crafted to blend seamlessly with its surroundings. These scales, however, offer no solace; instead, they exude an aura of menace and trepidation, their rough and jagged surfaces hinting at danger lurking beneath their deceptive camouflage.
A reptilian visage adorns its commanding form, evoking ancient memories of saurian lords that ruled primordial domains. An elongated snout dominates its countenance, bearing testament to a lineage untethered from the realm of men. Rows of razor-edged teeth line the formidable jaws, a fearsome arsenal that speaks of a predator's instinct and a thirst for domination. Its eyes, reptilian in nature, exhibit the penetrating gaze of a hunter. Resembling the slitted orbs of a lizard or crocodile, they shimmer with an otherworldly intensity, suffused in a deep reddish hue that betrays an infernal essence lurking within.
Cresting the crown of its head and cascading down its spine, a rigid crest of bony scales adorns this abomination, an emblem of its supernatural heritage. Each ridge and furrow accentuates the beast's connection to primeval powers, channeling an aura of command and dread.
Its limbs, sturdy and agile, embody the duality of strength and finesse. Clawed hands and feet, honed to perfection, serve as formidable tools for both combat and survival. With these appendages, the creature can scale precipitous heights, glide through treacherous waters, and strike with ruthless precision. And extending from its powerful frame, a long and sinewy tail sways with a serpentine grace, poised to unleash devastating force upon any who dare oppose it.
Adorned in vestments of leather and bones, this creature blurs the boundaries between man and monster. These remnants of archaic attire speak of a primal existence rooted in ancient rites and dark rituals. With each step, the rustling of leather and the clattering of bones echo the forgotten hymns of forgotten times, an eerie chorus that resonates with the encroaching darkness.
Thus, this creature, an embodiment of abhorrent fusion, stands as a harbinger of cosmic malevolence, a being entwined with the primeval forces that shape the cosmos. Its existence defies comprehension, its presence heralding the encroaching twilight of human understanding.
Sahuagin description:
Transfixed before you stands a towering figure, an eldritch fusion of human semblance and abyssal horror. At a staggering height of eight feet, its sinewy frame embodies a predatory grace, crafted for fluid movement within the watery depths. Adorned in a tapestry of scales, this abomination wears the garb of a creature born from the darkest recesses of the ocean’s domain. Thick and resilient, its scales bear witness to a range of hues, from the depths of inky deep-sea green to the dappled shades of mottled gray and blue, as if mimicking the ethereal play of light beneath the waves.
From the neck up, the creature assumes a visage that mirrors the terror of the deep. Its head, reminiscent of a shark’s relentless countenance, possesses a flattened snout that exudes a sense of predatory menace. A wide maw, brimming with rows upon rows of razor-edged teeth, forms a nightmarish smile that bespeaks its insatiable hunger. Behind those dark, predatory eyes, primordial orbs of unyielding darkness, lies the ancient wisdom of the abyss. Above those piercing eyes, a bony ridge juts forth, lending an air of monstrous grandeur to its visage, as if it were a crown bestowed upon a savage sea monarch.
Its formidable arms, hewn with power and muscle, culminate in webbed hands, their fingers honed to wickedly sharp, claw-like points. Such appendages speak of merciless dexterity, adept at rending and tearing through flesh with the precision of a hunter’s strike. The lower extremities of this being, a testament to its aquatic heritage, taper into a fish-like tail of extraordinary might. Adorned with overlapping scales that shimmer with an eerie luminescence, this sinuous appendage propels it through the water with unparalleled grace and swiftness. At its terminus, a powerful fluke, ensures unparalleled agility beneath the waves.
On the sides of its neck, hidden beneath the veil of the unknown, lie gills that imbue it with an ability to extract life-giving oxygen from the aqueous depths. These anatomical marvels, conduits of an alien respiration, grant it mastery of an underwater realm where human frailty would be consumed by suffocating darkness. It is a creature born to dwell in the abyssal fathoms, an embodiment of nature’s most terrifying adaptations.
In defiance of modesty, the creature dons garments of minimalistic design, fashioned from the remnants of the ocean’s bounty. Seaweed, coral, and shells intertwine, forming crude loincloths that barely obscure its primal form. Adorning its flesh, tribal markings, intricate tattoos, and savage scars tell tales of ancient rites and forgotten rituals, their cryptic patterns resonating with arcane power.
Thus, this amalgamation of terrestrial and aquatic horrors, an entity shaped by the unfathomable depths, presents itself as a harrowing testament to the mysteries that lurk beneath the churning waves. It is a creature of ancient rites, primal instincts, and abominable allure, bearing witness to a forgotten realm where the boundaries between human and monster blur in the maddening embrace of the eldritch.
Comments