{Holding Area.}
In the dim, lightless nursery of the Nautiloid, countless slave-pods radiated outward toward the deep shadows. At the very center of the room sat the most vital possession of the Mind Flayer race—the Nursery.
Frigid white vapor drifted through the air. The bud-shaped Nursery twitched and contracted slightly, as if it were a living creature.
Light pierced one corner of the nursery. A Mind Flayer drifted toward the pool, its tall, humanoid physique crowned by an octopus-like head. Four flexible tentacles obscured its sharp, cruel beak, as though masking its innate nature of feeding upon the brains of sentient beings.
As the Mind Flayer floated past the pods, the tentacle-like attachments wound tightly around them seemed to receive an unspoken command, rapidly parting to both sides to reveal a gradually awakening Githyanki female warrior.
She looked very young, perhaps not yet having completed her coming-of-age ceremony. (Age 20)
Compared to other races, the flat facial features and distinctive skin tone of the Githyanki always made them stand out in a crowd, though, in all fairness, the features of this yellow-green-skinned warrior were quite delicate.
Freed from unconsciousness, she instantly locked onto her species' mortal enemy—the Mind Flayer floating in the air.
She struggled fiercely within her pod, desperate to lunge forward and deal this creature a crushing blow, but her imprisoned body rendered every effort futile.
The Mind Flayer extended a hand before the Nursery. At its gesture, the pool blossomed open like a flower, countless white Mind Flayer Tadpoles swimming joyfully back and forth within. It retrieved one, the worm-like creature writhing and crawling across its palm.
It walked over to the Githyanki warrior and placed the soft-bodied creature directly upon her face.
The Mind Flayer Tadpole crawled slowly upward along her cheek, and beneath her terrified gaze, extended four slender tentacles. Parting its beak lined with dense, minuscule teeth, it burrowed directly into her eye, creeping deep into the recesses of her brain.
This was the manner of propagation for the Mind Flayer race. Though they were ancient beings possessed of formidable psionic powers, their sexless bodies meant they could only ensure the continuation of their kind through parasitism and transformation.
In just seven days, this Githyanki warrior would become one of the Mind Flayers.
*
The Nautiloid appearing abruptly in the skies above the city instantly seized the attention of the populace. Amidst the frantic shouts of the watchtower guards, claw-like tentacles wrapped tightly around the spire; mere seconds later, the tower shattered instantly into countless fragments, kicking up a billowing cloud of dust.
People, no larger than ants against the backdrop of the Nautiloid, ran and wept, fleeing wildly from the endless tentacles plunging from the heavens. Yet all effort was futile; wherever the tentacles swept, the fleeing crowds vanished instantly, reappearing the very next second inside the holding pods within the Nautiloid.
The Mind Flayers were hunting for slaves; they needed more living beings to transform into their own kind.
Just as despair gripped the populace, a dimensional portal roughly the size of the Nautiloid materialized behind it. Amidst several roars, a massive Red Dragon lunged forth, bearing Githyanki warriors upon its back and charging straight toward the Nautiloid.
They had pursued the Nautiloid relentlessly, their sole objective to slay their ancient nemesis!
The warriors and the Red Dragon operated in seamless coordination, swooping high and low to block the Nautiloid's path. Seizing an opportunity, a Red Dragon soared above the vessel, clamped its jaws onto the fragile hull, and jerked its head upward. A massive rupture tore open across the Nautiloid, and sheets of blistering flame spewed from the dragon's maw, scorching the ship's interior.
Pain coursed through the entire hull. Being a living entity, the Nautiloid shuddered violently, causing even the Mind Flayer in the control room to stagger. Connecting its neural tentacles, the creature immediately initiated spatial teleportation with the ship.
Yet the Githyanki, as their veteran adversaries, were well-versed in such Mind Flayer tricks and certainly wouldn't let them escape. Initiating their own teleportation, they gave relentless chase.
The Red Dragon's golden reptilian eyes peered through the torn breach, locking onto the Nursery still burning amidst the inferno. Hot steam puffed from its nostrils, and with a wide jaw, it unleashed another torrent of flame.
"Boom!"
Superheated by the intense temperature, the Nursery instantly detonated. Simultaneously, the Mind Flayer triggered another spatial jump, yet this time, they were cast directly into the First Circle of Hell—Avernus.
*
Ethemon awoke amidst scorching flames and rumbling explosions. The pods that had previously hindered his movement seemed to have lost control, swinging open with just a gentle push.
He vaulted out of the pod. Absolute devastation met his eyes: several pods that had held slaves were now empty, while the occupants of those still sealed slumped sideways, devoid of life. Fire raged everywhere, and not far away, a Mind Flayer corpse lay sprawled rigidly upon the ground.
Ethemon blinked, his blue eyes filled with blank confusion.
Where was he? What was he doing beforehand? Why could he remember nothing besides his name?
As he pondered, trying to dredge something from the depths of his mind, a blinding, tearing agony ripped through his entire head. It felt as though blood were surging violently within his skull, casting a crimson veil over all his past memories.
"Damn it!" Ethemon pressed his hands against his splitting head, temporarily abandoning the effort to dig deeper.
He could not linger here; the ambient temperature was rising steadily, the flames showed no sign of abating, and the ground trembled violently from time to time. There was no telling when this place might collapse, and he needed to find a safe haven as quickly as possible.
Scouting the room swiftly, Ethemon grabbed a blood-stained old dagger for self-defense. The central pool triggered a few rapidly flashing fragments in his mind: the runaway pod, the Githyanki woman collapsing to the ground, and that unhesitatingly departing figure.
That Githyanki warrior who had been infected with the Mind Flayer Tadpole—she had awakened before him and evidently escaped already.
Recalling that he, too, had been parasitized, Ethemon grimaced with quiet vexation, shoved past the repulsive sphincter membrane, and pressed onward to the next compartment.
The moment he stepped into the new chamber, a sickening stench mixed with the reeking scent of blood assaulted his nostrils. On the experimental table to his right lay a Goblin, soaked in dark, dried blood—it was thoroughly dead.
Ethemon paid it little mind, striding forward without pause. Already, he could hear the muffled roars of a dragon in the distance.
"We are trapped! Save us!"
A strange voice echoed directly inside Ethemon's mind. His muscles tensed instinctively as he swept his gaze around in sharp vigilance—nothing was there.
Ethemon raised an eyebrow, earnestly tracing the source of the voice. Guided by the neural apparatus upon the platform, he manipulated the rise and fall, revealing a naked Elf lying convulsing upon the surgical table, limbs limp and entirely lacking motor function. The voice was coming directly from him.
After a moment's consideration, Ethemon decided to step closer and investigate. Though he had merely been looking for a potential ally, when he drew near, the corners of his mouth twitched involuntarily.
The Elf was already dead; his cranium had been removed, leaving his brain exposed to the air, twitching and writhing ceaselessly. And that cry for help was originating from the brain itself!
"That's right! Save us from here, let us be free once more!" The exposed brain quivered with eager anticipation. "Please, before they come back—they're coming back!"
Ethemon tightened his grip on the dagger behind his back and asked in a calm voice, "You sound terrified. How am I supposed to help you?" Was this an Intellect Devourer? A pet raised by the Mind Flayers. Simultaneously, Ethemon realized that the only reason he could hear the Intellect Devourer's voice was because of that accursed Mind Flayer Tadpole nestled inside his own head.
"Get us out of this body! Release us from this cage, I beg you!" The shrill voice was fraught with anxiety, as though dreading whatever impending return it kept babbling about.
Ethemon hesitated for a single second before plunging his dagger into the gap of the Elf's skull, deftly and swiftly prying the Intellect Devourer free.
It felt slick, slimy with blood, and warm—a weak, squishy little lump of flesh.
A mere fraction of more force, and he could turn this thing into pulp.
The sudden surge of destructive impulse gave Ethemon pause for a fleeting second. Taking advantage of this brief distraction, the Intellect Devourer scuttled rapidly away from Ethemon's hand. The brain, which had previously been no larger than two palms, instantly sprouted long tentacles and four legs from its underside.
"We are free. Freedom is ours once more, friend."
Fine. Missing his chance, Ethemon didn't dwell on it. He needed an entity capable of gathering information, and this Mind Flayer puppy fit the bill nicely.
"Hurry, we must reach the Nautiloid helm! We are needed there! Only there can we guide ourselves out of the Hells."
Wait. The Hells?!
Ethemon's expression shifted drastically. Abandoning any further thought of the chattering Intellect Devourer, he vaulted off the platform and dashed outside in three long strides.
The sky was a bruised black-and-red. Red dragons soared and twisted through the air, while countless black specks swooped down from the distance to attack—imps pouring forth from the fortress. Roars of combat echoed everywhere, the landscape transformed into a battlefield of rolling smoke and towering flames.
Before he even had time to curse his damned situation, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Razor-sharp intuition prompted Ethemon to lunge sideways, instinctively slashing out with his dagger as a nimble silver blur flipped down from the heights. Wielding a longsword, the Githyanki warrior raised it to strike down, barking, "Wretch, your time has come!"
A familiar link surged instantly from the depths of his mind; his brain convulsed and his skin began to prickle. Flashes tore through Ethemon's consciousness—the image of a red dragon, a gleaming silver sword, a stranger's face, and, for a split second, his own reflection. These were not his memories, but those of the Githyanki before him.
Their minds had been bridged together by the Mind Flayer Tadpoles.
"Ah, my head!" Evidently, the Githyanki had accessed Ethemon's memories as well. Truth be told, the warrior was somewhat bewildered; his own mind was currently a blank slate, and heaven knew what the Githyanki had witnessed.
Upon receiving the memories, the warrior instantly shed his aggressive hostility, his expression shifting instead to one of sheer ecstasy. "Tsk'va! You're no slave—Vlaakith be praised! Together, we might actually stand a chance of surviving this!"
A Githyanki who talked to themselves, likely knew the current situation, and possessed a definitive objective.
Ethemon nodded in a gesture of truce. "Got any suggestions?"
The warrior evidently appreciated Ethemon's decisiveness, gesturing toward a corner where a group of Imps were feasting heartily. "First, we slaughter these imps. Then we locate the helm and take control of this Nautiloid."
"As for this thing—" The female warrior cast a disgusted glance behind Ethemon, where the Intellect Devourer was scurrying along on its four stubby legs to keep up with them. "So long as it believes we are Mind Flayer slaves, it will remain this obedient. It might even prove useful in the upcoming fights."
Ethemon turned in astonishment to see the Intellect Devourer waving its little tentacles, as if cheerfully greeting him.