| A nightmare That was Kressecks first thought at the abject horror that filled him, the bulbous pink face of his mortal enemy. The sensation of two tendrils already boring into his skull, through his temples, two more would soon follow. The most horrible fate imaginable for any Githyanki, to be devoured by an Illithid, Mind flayer, a member of the race that had enslaved his people for millennia, and they�s carried the grudge for several millennia more. The satisfying crunch of squid-like flesh collapsing under his powerful fists not only surprised him, but told him this wasn�t a dream or nightmare at all, this was real. Is hands were stark white from being over clenched, tightened around the �flayers neck for only Gith knew how long, memories shot back into his skull. His patrol had been ambushed by the Illithids, they�d ripped his Silver Sword from his hands, only at the cost of half a dozen of the �flayers lives, assailing him with mental blasts even as his skull was violated by the offending flayer, he�d given a last, desperate effort to take his foe with him. Obviously, he�d succeeded. With a start, he ripped the Tentacles from his face, leaving the Illithid body to fly about freely in Astral pace, (that�s odd, That should have hurt, why don�t I hurt? Is it an after-effect from the mind blasts?) It didn�t matter really, his Silver Sword was still gone, the pride of all Githyanki who are granted them. To lose it was to lose his very soul, figuratively as well as quite literally, the Queen was very strict about losing possession of the blades. He wasted no time, first taking a wide inspection of all he still had left, various daggers and backup weapons abandoned to the void, he was forbidden to use them after having lost his word, and he could not permit himself the temptation. His chain mail, still vibrant with magical energy hung protectively around his body, and the cloak of stars, which had previously allowed him to remain invisible within the Astral Plane, was shredded and useless. He tore a strip from it, and wrapped that around his head, covering the holes left by the dislodged flayer, quickly soaking red with his blood. Upon the �Flayers body, he searched for clues that might lead him to the rest of it�s comrades, a . Ripping the long robes from it�s body, and digging through all manner of pouches, inner pockets of the robes, upon the beast�s fingers, a transparent ring, glass? No, too strong for glass, he felt that at even a cursory push, but he didn�t have didn�t have the experience necessary to determine what it might be. Elsewhere on it�s body, he found notes scrawled in the vile, squiggly script of the �Flayers, which he couldn�t read, none besides them knew the language anyway. And beyond that, nothing. Clues were scarce, and he needed answers. �Sod it all to Nessus,� Kresseck Muttered under his breath, not that any other were alive for an untold distance around him, but he never approved of oaths in the first place, and this, but this was a hell of a time for it, if any. Sliressik was dead, or rather, undead. He deduced this from the simple manner of his awakening, his own neck being snapped by the Gith he�d fallen unconscious locked in mortal combat with what seemed like only moments before. The snapping of bones would have killed any normal creature, including him when he was still alive, but yet he lived. Curious... It took every ounce of his willpower to remain still during the de-illithidizing process of being stripped and searched by a Gith, a Slave.. But he was in no position to do otherwise, a precursory attempt to latch into the Gith�s brain had revealed a state similar to his own, undeath, even though the Gith seemed to not realize it yet... Interesting as the whole situation was, he was more or less helpless without a mortal brain to dominate or overwhelm, what few powers he had that WOULD work he didn�t want to risk them not, or showing himself to be anything else than the corpse he was. Beyond the limitations of pride that lower species would have experienced, he was well aware that the Gith was his superior in melee combat. Torturous might have described the procedure, the sight of seeing his fine tai�tress robes shredded like the flesh of so many slaves. Even more his diamond ring, stolen from his finger, the previous item, even without being enchanted or psionically endowed was worth more to him than any number of worldly goods, it was irreplaceable, and moreover, it was his proverbial ticket home... But of course, if he wasn�t incorrect about being undead, if it was by some freak accident that he survived the choking hands, and the snapping neck, that would be wonderful. But if he was Undead, he could never return home. Branded an Alhoon and denied entrance into the Mother-Brain�s central mass, denied the immortality that was his birthright... Even with this new immortality separate from his brothers, it wouldn�t be enough, wouldn�t be right. On the more pragmatic view, that same immortality would give him more than ample time to track down the Gith after it was convinced he was dead, and from there, who knows? He might gain his oblivion within the Central brain after all... He watched as the Gith departed from his floating body, speeding off by will alone into the eternal Astral space, he could do little more than pray.... And when the Gith was finally gone from sight, Sliressik opened his eyes again, for the first time in only Illsensine knew how long.. |