The Rot is spoken of in low voices, if it is spoken of at all. In the crowded streets and dim courtyards of Ville des Marais, it is treated not as a single illness, but as something that watches for opportunity - a condition that finds those already weakened, already exposed, already a little too far from the protections of temple or hearth. It does not arrive loudly. It arrives like a whisper that lingers too long.
At first, it seems harmless - a red, itchy rash across the face, as though from heat or poor air. Victims often dismiss it as nothing more than irritation, perhaps the result of damp weather or unclean hands. But those who know its signs grow quiet when they see it. The rash is not random. It has a pattern, a subtle symmetry that seems to repeat in faint echoes across the skin, as though something beneath is trying to map itself outward.
Within a few days - usually 1d4+1 - the nature of the affliction becomes clear. The skin begins to lose its vitality, paling, then thinning, then darkening in irregular patches. It does not simply decay - it withdraws, as though the body is being gently, insistently abandoned. The affected flesh becomes soft, then fragile, then openly broken, as if it can no longer decide whether it belongs to the living or the dead.
Open wounds appear where there should be none, and they do not behave as wounds normally do. They weep slowly, continuously, with a thick, foul fluid that carries with it the unmistakable scent of rot. Those who have seen it describe something worse than the smell itself - the faint, unsettling impression that the substance within the wounds is not entirely still. It seems to shift, subtly, as though it possesses a quiet, instinctive motion of its own.
In severe cases, the Rot moves deeper. It reaches beyond the skin, past the surface, into the body’s essential strength. The victim grows weaker, more fatigued, as though something is siphoning away their resilience one breath at a time. Their voice may falter, their posture may sag, and their presence seems to dim - not in a magical sense that can be easily measured, but in a way that others instinctively feel when they stand too close.
The disease carries with it a particularly cruel progression. When the infection worsens, it does not simply damage the body - it begins to claim the senses. Sight is often among the first to go. Those afflicted may find their vision failing not in darkness, but in distortion - light bending strangely, shapes blurring, until eventually the world itself becomes unreadable. It is not immediate, but when it comes, it leaves little room for recovery.
The Rot does not always end in death, though it is patient in that regard. If allowed to progress unchecked, the body eventually yields entirely. Yet even in this, the disease is not hurried. It takes its time, as though savoring the process. Healing magics can halt it, and skilled hands can treat its symptoms, but even then, the memory of the illness lingers in the flesh like a scar that cannot fully be erased.
Those who survive speak of a strange aftereffect - a lingering sense that their body remembers the illness, even after it is gone. Some claim they can feel it, faintly, beneath the skin, like a quiet echo of something that once had a stronger claim. Whether this is truth or fear is difficult to say. But in Ville des Marais, even healed victims are watched a little more closely, as though the city itself is uncertain whether the Rot ever truly leaves.
There are places within the city where the Rot seems to gather more easily, though none can say why. Some whisper that it is drawn to neglect - to places where the living have grown careless with ritual, or where the boundary between life and death has been handled without proper reverence. Others say it is simply another aspect of the city’s balance, a reminder that life here must be maintained, tended, and respected - or it will, in time, begin to return to something else.
The Rot (Disease)
Type disease (contact)
Save Fortitude DC 16
Onset 1d4+1 days
Frequency 1/day
Effect: Ability damage (1d6 Constitution, 1d6 Charisma). On a failed save, the victim also risks additional consequences based on the severity of the failure:
- If the victim fails the save by 4 or more, they suffer the listed ability damage and become permanently blinded.
- If the victim fails the save by 7 or more, they immediately die as their body succumbs entirely to the disease.
Cure: 3 consecutive successful Fortitude saves, or the use of cure disease or similar magic.
Recovery: A victim who suffers ability damage requires 1 week of bed rest per point of ability damage taken. Ability damage heals at the normal rate after the disease is cured.
Special: Any creature reduced to death by The Rot is considered tainted by the disease; if returned to life, the creature retains a lingering mark of corruption unless magically cleansed and may be more susceptible to disease effects at the DM’s discretion.
