Protective dancing
Session 25 August 2024
Malik starts dancing in the midst of the chaos. His movements are wild, erratic, and somehow mesmerizing—what in the world is he doing? He points dramatically at an Ultroloth, but… nothing happens. I blink in confusion, trying to understand. Then, with an unexpected burst of energy, he cheers for Jaf’ar, calling out encouragement for him to get out of the acid.
Farryn, ever practical in the heat of battle, shouts out, “Save yourself, Jaf’ar! But for gods’ sake, don’t splash acid on us!”
Amidst the madness, I spot Patience. “Patience! You’re back!” I shout with relief. Farryn, undeterred by the chaos, swings his weapon with force, striking at the nearest Ultroloth. But before we can gain any ground, another wave of scorching heat rolls through the hallway—a firestorm that threatens to consume us all.
I brace myself for the impact, but to my shock, I feel nothing. The intense heat is there, but it doesn’t touch me. It’s like a barrier of protection surrounds me. I glance at Malik—his dancing actually seems to be working. Somehow, his erratic movements are shielding me from the flames.
Around me, however, not everyone is as lucky. Some of my companions stagger back, their faces twisted in fear. They’re terrified of the Ultroloths—why? I mean, sure, they’re ugly as sin, but scared? Really? My heart races as I realize they’ve succumbed to the creatures’ fearsome presence.
Then, without warning, a wall of fire erupts around us, encircling the entire area. The heat intensifies, but again, it doesn’t harm me. Malik’s strange protective magic holds strong. I watch Grond begin to dash through the flames, but I lose my grip and slide off his back. The last thing I want is to charge through the fire recklessly.
I try to take aim at one of the Ultroloths, but as I pull back my bowstring, I slip. Ten arrows spill from my quiver, scattering across the ground—straight into the fire. “Damn it!” I mutter under my breath. I manage to shoot off one arrow, but frustration gnaws at me as my fallen arrows ignite in the flames.
Malik, in another attempt to help, tries to dim the fire with his magic. But the flames don’t waver—they continue to burn fiercely, undeterred by his efforts. Meanwhile, I see Jaf’ar casting Chain Lightning, arcing bolts of electricity leaping from Ultroloth to Ultroloth, frying them in its path. All but one are struck. Jaf’ar glances at me and then darts off, calling over his shoulder, “Sorry, Gwen, I need to leave you alone for a second!”
I feel a moment of panic as the Ultroloths shift their attention toward me. I’m alone, surrounded by these monstrous beings. One of them attempts to hypnotize me, its alien eyes locking onto mine. I feign being under its spell, but in reality, it does nothing. I suppress a grin. Nice try.
The second Ultroloth tries the same trick, but I mockingly roll my eyes. “Really?” I laugh, brushing off the hypnotic effect like dust. Nevertheless, they get in close and strike me three times with their longswords. Pain flares with each hit, but Grond’s protection holds strong, and I manage to stay upright. I’m hurt, but not nearly as bad as I could’ve been.
I gather myself, casting a spell, and take aim at the most bloodied Ultroloth. My shot lands true, and I take the opportunity to move through the wall of fire, avoiding their attacks as I slip past them.
Malik returns to my side, his presence bringing immediate relief. He dances again, and I feel better—stronger, even. The firestorm around us begins to wane as Jaf’ar unleashes more magic. Finally, with a single flourish, the Wall of Fire disappears, leaving only the smoldering remnants of what had been an inferno moments before.
As we catch our breath, Farryn moves ahead, determined to press on. No sooner does he step forward than another blast of fire rips through the hallway. I scramble to cover him, aiming my arrows at the Ultroloths, but damn it, I miss—three times in a row! I curse under my breath, frustrated by the chaos of the battle.
Suddenly, Malik darts past me, his movements fluid as he launches a bolt of energy toward one of the remaining Ultroloths. I glance over and my heart sinks—Farryn is stunned on Grond’s back, completely vulnerable. Panic surges through me.
I push myself to move faster, rushing to Farryn’s side. I place a hand on him and cast Cure Wounds, sending healing energy into his battered body. The tension in his muscles relaxes slightly, and I can feel the relief in his breathing. Looking around, I see that most of the Ultroloths are gone—thank the gods.
Then, with a final crack of magic, the fifth and last Ultroloth disappears. Malik lets out a cheer, encouraging Mimi the Mimic, who promptly forces the final mechanism into the acid pool below. A slit opens in the wall, revealing a hidden doorway—magically concealed. Farryn immediately darts inside, following Mimi, with Patience flying after them.
I stand there, feeling a pang of frustration. I can’t follow them, not without some sort of magical help. I hate feeling stuck, left behind while the others explore. Sensing my disappointment, Malik places a hand on my shoulder, giving me a reassuring look before casting Dimension Door. In a blink, we teleport into the hidden chamber.
The room is dimly lit, and on the eastern wall, there’s a small wooden stick jutting out, as if something had once hung from it. Farryn suggests we try using Mage Hand, but I decide to have a bit of fun with it—I conjure a minor illusion of a spectral hand pouring acid over the stick. Farryn just shakes his head, unimpressed. “Well, that was pointless,” he mutters. Malik, of course, takes the opportunity to start dancing again, seemingly unconcerned by the mystery of the stick. Meanwhile, Patience is actually making progress, carefully bringing real acid to the scene.
I suggest Malik touch the stick, and when he does, nothing happens. Whatever was supposed to be there is long gone. Just as we’re pondering the mystery, Jaf’ar calls out—he’s found something. Patience then offers us a ride on the broom, so we fly over to meet him.
We arrive in another secret room. It’s small and round, with an elaborate chair set in the center, encrusted with glowing gems. An unmistakable legendary item, one used for spelljamming. My eyes widen at the sight of it, and I can tell from the look on Jaf’ar’s face that this is something special.

As we stand around the room, taking it all in, Jaf’ar suggests we rest. He looks tired, worn out by the battles and endless exploration. I shrug, trying to downplay how exhausted I feel. “It’s not that I’m feeling bad,” I say, “just a headache… and I feel a bit sluggish.”
Malik, ever the quirky one, reaches over and taps me on the head. I wince slightly—it hurts—but to my surprise, I feel a wave of clarity rush through me. My headache fades, and my muscles feel lighter, more responsive. I look at Malik in amazement. “Thanks,” I say, smiling at him.
We decide to take a short rest until nightfall. As we settle down, the room fills with a gentle, heavenly light, like a soft blessing from above. I feel the energy returning to my body, all my magical reserves replenished. It’s strange—by the time we’re done resting, it feels like no time has passed at all, and yet we’re completely revitalized.
The room feels different now—quiet, almost serene, like the calm before another storm
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