LordLuck
The Wicked Historian
- Joined
- Feb 10, 2011
- Posts
- 2,649
Ma'ant'Zek'Ur
And indeed delicious they were. The first one was specially savoury, as the many years spend into reading and decyphering the arcane arts had toned his grey matter into a vivid pinkish tone - both sour and sweet at the same time.
Although the taste was fulfilling, Ma'ant'Zek'Ur felt... not satisfied.
The others were... simpler. Their tastes both plain and watery, but never as suculent as the first one. Indeed, it had been some time already that Ma'ant had not devoured a mind. He had, however, breakend his absense of using his psionic capabilities in order to better interact with Phyliss, Relic and their companions... with mixed reactions.
And that alone had made him slow. Too slow. Gryph was a large creature, he should not have been able to outpace Ma'ant's movements - even if those were stepping into plain air instead of solid wooden deck. The illithid blamed his own abuse of his mental prowess over his new acquaintances. Of course. That should have dulled his senses.
For Ma'ant'Zek'Ur was a mind flayer of the Body-Tamer Creed. Only Relic should know it. Why would he bear such exquisitive weaponry for one of his species? He was one that, as the occasional monks did, abandoned the use of his superb mental capabilities in order to improve his martial, physic prowess, should he remain absent of using his species powers. And he had, both used and abused them. He should be ashamed of himself for doing it.
But that never meant he would show it for his peers... careful not to stain his exotic robes with the victim's blood, he dropped their bodies into the floor - mere carcasses that could only be used in undeath, now. His tentacles, crimson and slick with his prey's lifeblood, were another reminder of his recklessness. Perhaps he should consor with Relic once again. Only the drow could bring her soothing arms around his head and allow him to forget his migraine while hearing to her pumping heart.
Perhaps.
Ma'ant came down for the lower deck, where Gryph piled bodies. Quietly, he admired his own treasures, taken from the deceased wizards - some powerful scrolls yet unreaden, a wand, and a couple of rings. Perhaps he should offer them to Gryph - he had disposed the mages, after all. Maybe Phyliss or even Tronfur would make good use of the scrolls. Perhaps.
Perhaps.
And indeed delicious they were. The first one was specially savoury, as the many years spend into reading and decyphering the arcane arts had toned his grey matter into a vivid pinkish tone - both sour and sweet at the same time.
Although the taste was fulfilling, Ma'ant'Zek'Ur felt... not satisfied.
The others were... simpler. Their tastes both plain and watery, but never as suculent as the first one. Indeed, it had been some time already that Ma'ant had not devoured a mind. He had, however, breakend his absense of using his psionic capabilities in order to better interact with Phyliss, Relic and their companions... with mixed reactions.
And that alone had made him slow. Too slow. Gryph was a large creature, he should not have been able to outpace Ma'ant's movements - even if those were stepping into plain air instead of solid wooden deck. The illithid blamed his own abuse of his mental prowess over his new acquaintances. Of course. That should have dulled his senses.
For Ma'ant'Zek'Ur was a mind flayer of the Body-Tamer Creed. Only Relic should know it. Why would he bear such exquisitive weaponry for one of his species? He was one that, as the occasional monks did, abandoned the use of his superb mental capabilities in order to improve his martial, physic prowess, should he remain absent of using his species powers. And he had, both used and abused them. He should be ashamed of himself for doing it.
But that never meant he would show it for his peers... careful not to stain his exotic robes with the victim's blood, he dropped their bodies into the floor - mere carcasses that could only be used in undeath, now. His tentacles, crimson and slick with his prey's lifeblood, were another reminder of his recklessness. Perhaps he should consor with Relic once again. Only the drow could bring her soothing arms around his head and allow him to forget his migraine while hearing to her pumping heart.
Perhaps.
Ma'ant came down for the lower deck, where Gryph piled bodies. Quietly, he admired his own treasures, taken from the deceased wizards - some powerful scrolls yet unreaden, a wand, and a couple of rings. Perhaps he should offer them to Gryph - he had disposed the mages, after all. Maybe Phyliss or even Tronfur would make good use of the scrolls. Perhaps.
Perhaps.