Journal of Rollo Lavius 3

Entry #590 - the Maw of Ghaunadaur

(G590 12/04/2025 via Roll20 - JF(GM), KT, AP) YI41

[Fenrir and Reinward are in the Dismal Caverns doing a quest on behalf of Xama the Priestess of Ghaunadaur. They are now in the Gauntlet of Zhaeryx. They are accompanied by Brodok, Cartet Murkor and Abriska, a jelly shaped fighter, a jelly shaped druid and a bucket of ooze respectively.
In their last battle Fenrir was driven insane and now wanders the caves in a delirium.]

12/04/2025

DAY 679 (11th Hammer)(January) cont...

Reinward waited eight hours, sat by himself in a dark corner lest he be attacked by a crazed Fenrir. The jelly people reformed and he talked it over with them all about what the best course of action was.

Ghaunadaur granted them a favour and teleported in a dark skinned psionic who cast Psychic Chirurgery for the low low price of 1700 gold and Fenrir was turned back to his old - slightly more sane - self.

While he was at it Reinward managed to buy a 'Dagger of the Slithering Void' from the psionic, to add to his already very impressive cutlery drawer.

DAY 680(12th Hammer)(January)

They had finally reached the penultimate chamber. The next after that they would face Zhaeryx himself.

Fenrir and Reinward were pretty nervous about this new challenge considering they had only survived the last one thanks to Reinward's blind luck.

This next chamber, then, was massive and contained the Maw of Ghaunadaur.

The winding tunnel finally opened into a vast chamber, and the first thing that struck them was the smell — a cloying, oily stench like decaying meat left too long in a bog, undercut with a sharp, acrid tang that burnt their nostrils.

The cavern was enormous — easily hundreds of feet across—but oppressively low-ceilinged in places, the stone sagging with clusters of ooze - like mineral growths and hanging strands of slime like stalactites that wept. The walls seemed wet and alive, pulsing faintly with a dull mauve glow that shifts as they moved, as though responding to their presence. Every surface glistens with translucent ooze, some of it still, some slowly creeping. Footing was treacherous; the stone beneath their boots gave way with a sickening squelch, and in places, it was not stone at all — just layers upon layers of dissolved matter.

At the centre of the chamber, a pit yawned, shallow but vast, a lake of sludge that pulsed as though breathing. It was ringed by broken bones, rusted armour, and the half-digested remains of things too strange to name. Occasionally, a towering pseudopod breached the surface, writhing and tasting the air, before sinking back into the mire.

Strange, violet eyes opened and closed across the cavern walls, blinking independently. Some stared. Some wept tears of acidic slime. One enormous eye opened at the far end, fixed directly on them — and somewhere in their minds, they heard a voice without language, full of madness, hunger, and ancient wrath.

This place was not merely the lair of the The Maw of Ghaunadaur. It was The Maw.

Despite the horror of the being they faced, they all charged in bravely. Brodok was seized by a tentacle and Murkor summoned wave after wave of crocodiles that were pulled to pieces almost as soon as they arrived before the Maw.

Fenrir kept his distance and blasted away, but found that his blasts were either resisted or flew through the Maw with no effect as this cosmic horror blinked in and out of existence.

Reinward used his magical daggers to 'stagger' the maw several times, a magically aided effect that reduced its number of attacks.

Fenrir got closer, cursing as none of his blasts had any effect. Reinward having used all of his most powerful cutlery decided to run for it. Fenrir, slower to flee, was hit and hurt badly by the Maw's tentacles. Severly wounded, he limped out of the chamber as a wall of crocodiles moved up to screen the retreat.