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Message: <blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 2261854" data-attributes="member: 1210">The Mind Flayer10/17/369 O.L.G, 1 p.m., the deep mines of the Bloody FistContemplation.  Thralls taken away, and now the bright points of intellect that did it are coming again.  Minds with no power- save one.  Study it.  Study it.  Some psionic potential, but infinitesimal.  Perhaps someday... if I do not take it as my next meal.  It has been a very long time since a tangy treat like that been lovingly extracted by my tentacles.  Pause.  A thought, sent racing through the warrens, to summon the ceremorphized primitives.  They will guard against crude physical attacks.  Surely the spots of intelligence will realize, once I have caressed their minds with my own puissance, that their true place is at my feet.  They have taken away many larger, stronger thralls already, but that one with a spark of psychic ability would be worth the loss.  It has been so long since I have eaten such a delicacy!Ahh, I can hear the screams through my mind.  One of them is being consumed by a dungeon-dwelling slime.  Will they save him in time?  It spreads quickly; even my kind fear the touch of green slime.  But yes, one of them has done it with their slave-magic.  Begged from a vast power!  How primitive.  The recognition that all power comes from within is necessary to achieve sentience.  Primitives such as these, even the psionic one, will never truly climb that ladder.  They are too caught up in their primitive drives and emotions.  My guard-thralls arrive.  Taken from their warrens in the places deeper still within the rock, then ceremorphized into a more pleasing and effective form, they are effective guards and useful thralls.  And they will no doubt have to prove their worth again today, for my would-be attackers are coming forward again.Twisting through the tunnels and caves they come.  Soon they will arrive.  I move my thralls to the appropriate positions, where they will be able to prevent the primitives from reaching me.  None of the oncoming attackers is human.  A shame; it would be ideal to be able to ceremorphize one of them.  Then there would be a second sentient being here, and together we could begin the process of growth and expansion.  For this island does have humans; they must simply be lured, and then my community can begin to grow strong.  There are plenty of tadpoles; there is room for many of us; there are plenty of primitives to provide thralls and food.  I would be first to die, and my brain would be the seed of the new community’s Elder Brain.  With patience, all things shall come to me. Just as these primitives are coming.  My thralls sense them, too; and- now!The lead one reeks of mammal sweat.  Feathers and fur adorn it.  It does not even have the think veneer of civilzation that most of these things have adopted by instinct.  I reach out to grasp its will in my mental fist, to command it to do my will.  Its face changes to a purple hue and it lets out a loud exclamation of rage.  I can feel its surprising mental strength.  Worse, overlaying it, I can feel a magical field that will prevent mind control.  Surprised, I withdraw my psionic attack.  Let the thralls deal with it.  They move in, surrounding it-Its rage blossoms.  A thrill of pain shoots through my abstract lobe at the force of it.  The primitive suddenly changes.  It doubles, nearly triples in height, broadens, grows coarse fur.  It is-  a bear??  The body of an animal on the tiny bit of consciousness that was that primitive.  Interesting.  It bears vivisection.  Surely my slaves will-The bear smashes down two of the three thralls in a single mighty blow.  I am shocked.  My defenses are crumbling much too quickly.  This is unacceptable!  They must be stopped.  There are other primitives advancing behind the bear, burning with bright devotion to the fight against me. Why must these unintelligent creatures fear and hate my kind and I?  Why can they not recognize their place in the universe?  They follow their instincts and raise cattle, birds, food animals of their own; why can they not see that, above them in that same chain, are we?It is precisely because they follow their instincts.  If they were rational, thinking beings they would understand.  But of course, if they were rational, thinking beings- they would be illithid.I clench my mental fist, and a cone of psionic energy ripples out, washing over the attackers.  But surprisingly, they all withstand it.  Suddenly they are coming forward at me!  No!!  I am delicate!  Stay back!!!A blow from the bear knocks me a few feet.  Then one of them fires an arrow that lands in my thigh.  I need only a moment to escape, only a moment!  Just a moment to concentrate... I stagger away as another of the little monsters hacks at me with an axe.  No, you little primitive, stay back!  Get away from me!  Yes, that’s batter- a little distance- but- The whoosh of flames rushes down at me from above.  My innate ability to resist magic does not protect me this time.  It is terrible- a horrifying agony.  I can feel the slime on my body drying and cracking as I catch fire.My dreams, my hopes... they will never be fulfilled now.  I cannot see through the flames.  I can feel my tentacles shriveling.  I am weakening.  Oh, you primitives!  Someday you must realize you are nothing but food!I die.Next Time: The party plays in a pool full of tadpoles!  Then there’s trouble at sea!</blockquote>

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