| Mod | Save | ||
|---|---|---|---|
| STR | 18 | +4 | +4 |
| DEX | 16 | +3 | +11 |
| CON | 18 | +4 | +13 |
| Mod | Save | ||
|---|---|---|---|
| INT | 8 | −1 | −1 |
| WIS | 12 | +1 | +8 |
| CHA | 5 | −3 | −3 |
Dead Silence Aura. The Black Maw Husk emits a 10-foot radius antimagic field that prevents verbal spellcasting. Any living creature that enters or starts its turn in this area takes 4 (1d8) cold damage. This area is completely silent, negating sound-based effects.
Summon Restless Dead. At initiative count 20 (losing ties), the Husk raises 1d4+1 Crawling Claws or 1d2 Zombiesfrom the surrounding area. These undead act immediately after being summoned.
Unnatural Might. The Husk's melee attacks count as magical.
Multiattack. The Husk makes two Slam attacks.
Slam. Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 11 (2d6+4) bludgeoning damage. If the target is Large or smaller, they must succeed on a DC 13 Strength saving throw or be knocked prone.
Bone Shard Vomit (Recharge 5-6). The Husk regurgitates shards of bone and dark ichor in a 15-foot cone. Creatures in the area must make a DC 13 Dexterity saving throw, taking 12 (3d6) necrotic damage on a failure, or half as much on a success.
Description
The creature first appears as a grotesquely overgrown humanoid, its flesh bloated and stretched, as if something inside is pressing outward against skin too thin to contain it. Its limbs are unnaturally long and thick, fingers twitching erratically, nails blackened and cracked. Its face is warped—eyes sunken and glassy, mouth too wide, breath coming in short, sharp gasps that sound wet and hollow.
From its core, a suffocating cold radiates outward, stealing the breath of anything living nearby. The air within ten feet of it is a deadened void—silent, still, and wrong. There is no sound of footfalls, no clash of steel, no incantation of spells—only an eerie, yawning absence of reality.
As it moves, the skin bulges and ripples, veins pulsing in unnatural patterns, something beneath the surface pressing outward in desperate, impatient hunger. With every step, its flesh shifts and distorts, an unseen force writhing beneath the surface like a caged beast.
Despite its size and strength, it moves with jerky, unnatural motions, sometimes lurching forward suddenly, sometimes pausing as if something within it is trying to tear itself free too soon. When it turns its head, it doesn’t seem to understand the motion—its neck twisting just a little too far before snapping back into place.
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