Editing Ilsenhoon the Mind Flayer Ministrel (section)

===Chapter 11===
It was a long walk back to the drow city. Surprisingly, it was not deep underground. Instead, it was carved into the side of a deep canyon. The drow led the line of captives down several rickety ramps and finally into a large underground meeting hall. Opposing the entrance was a large stone throne, adorned with scorpions. The drow lined up their captives so that all were facing the throne.

A moment later, the drow matriarch appeared from a hidden door behind the throne. It glanced up and down the row, its eyes settling on Ilsenhoon before it sat upon the throne.

“Kneel!” one of the drow captors shouted, punching a crew member in the stomach, making him double over onto the ground. The rest fell to their knees rather quickly, hoping to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Ilsenhoon remained standing, however.

He took the cuffs off his wrists and let them clatter to the ground as he stepped forward. AN ILLITHID DOES NOT GET CAPTURED. AN ILLITHID MERELY PLAYS ALONG. ANY OTHER ASSUMPTION IS ASININE.

The matriarch hissed an order, and the other drow in the meeting hall drew weapons and closed in. Ilsenhoon just gave them the wide grin again and thought to the matriarch, AND ALSO, BY THE TIME THIS IS ALL THROUGH, YOU WILL BOW TO ME, BITCH.

As the drow charged forwards, Ilsenhoon concentrated, drawing upon an ancient pact with the old gods. A bright light shone down upon him. The drow charging forward all looked into the light, their eyes narrowing a bit from the brightness. In the light they saw fast, unfathomable creatures of impossible dimensions, covered with eyes and tentacles, tongues and pustules. Before their eyes they saw a creature the size of a planet get swallowed whole by something no larger than a pinhead, and yet it remained the same size.

The drow all shrieked in horror, turning from the light in such obvious pain. As the light dimmed, Ilsenhoon was half-way towards the equipment pile. The drow shook off the fear and turned their attentions back onto the mind flayer.

Hearing a battlecry close behind him, Ilsenhoon turned backward, seeing a particularly large drow close behind, and let loose a storm of psychic energy towards it. The dark-skinned creature faltered for a moment before tumbling forward, and coming to a stop on the stone floor, blood oozing out its ears.

Ilsenhoon reached the equipment pile and snatched up the guitar, before sliding to a stop while giving the instrument two quick strums, both chords conflicting violently with each other. The next drow charging towards Ilsenhoon fell to its knees, clutching its ears in pain.

The third drow raised a hand crossbow and fired as the other three moved in. Ilsenhoon wasn't quite fast enough, and the bolt nailed him right in the shoulder , the tip just barely poking out the other side. Giving the drow a loathing glance, he readied himself, but rather than strumming the guitar, instead he reached out with his mind, grasping the drow's psyche and choked as hard as he could. In reality, the drow's eyes turned bloodshot and blood began leaking out of his nose, ears and tear ducts before he fell backwards.

Three drow remained. They circled around Ilsenhoon, each holding a kukri at the ready. As one darted in, Ilsenhoon deflected the blow with his guitar, but the other two took the opportunity to strike as well, scoring deep cuts on his back. Ilsenhoon winced and pushed back against his main attacker, sending a sharp note after it, which cut into it like a knife, sending it reeling backwards.

He spun round at the other two. COME ON, FELLAS. I'M SURE YOU'LL DO BETTER THAN YOUR FOUR FRIENDS. I MEAN, IT'S NOT LIKE THEY WERE YOUR SUPERIORS, WERE THEY? He laced the thoughts with magic, causing them to cut deep into the drow's heads like timebombs, just waiting for the right time to off.

One drow advanced, but the words caught up with it, and it hesitated momentarily, but long enough for the spell to complete. A quiet pop echoed around the room as a portion of the drow's skull exploded outwards.

Ilsenhoon stared at the final guard, HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF A BROWN NOTE? He asked, patting his guitar. DEATH IS ONE THING, HUMILIATING DEATH IS ANOTHER. The drow quirked an eyebrow for a moment before understanding dawned on its face. It backed away slowly before turning around and running at full speed out of the meeting hall.

Looking proud, Ilsenhoon turned towards the Matriarch, NOW ABOUT THAT KNEELING THING. The Matriarch smirked, but said nothing. Instead she stood, narrowed her eyes and began to change. Her body shifted, armored plates grew on her flesh, a tail sprouted. Her arms grew into giant pincers. Right before Ilsenhoon's eyes, the drow matriarch transformed into a giant, black scorpion, ready to fight.

Troublesome. He'd expected the matriarch to be a cleric, not some sort of druid. He backed off as the scorpion advanced, snapping pincers his way, and setting up a clear shot for its tail.

He backed away into the rest of the captives, who, up until now, had been watching the fight with fear. Now as the giant scorpion scuttled towards them, they all stood and ran out of the cave, albeit awkwardly as they were still chained together.

Ilsenhoon was at a loss. He dodged left and right, hoping to find an opening somewhere in the scorpion's attack, but none presented itself. A quick snap caught the side of his left thigh, leaving a deep wound almost to the bone. Limping away, he made a quick, telepathic prayer to anyone who would hear him, asking for assistance.

A stirring of an answer came... not from without, but from within. Several voices, all within his own thoughts began to voice themselves. They spoke of a being called the Summer Queen, and her songs. One of them flooded his head, and he couldn't resist but playing a haunting, but powerful melody on the guitar. He instinctively aimed it towards the scorpion, which recoiled in pain with a chittering hiss.

Ilsenhoon took the momentary opportunity to back outside, onto the rickety rope bridges that connected the canyon city. The scorpion followed after, but it didn't seem altogether too stable on the planks.

Ilsenhoon backed off onto the platform behind him and waggled a finger disapprovingly at the scorpion, and strummed two sharp notes on his guitar, sending the chords off like daggers to cut the ropes on the bridge. An almost human look of rage and despair hit the scorpion's face as the bridge gave out underneath it.

Ilsenhoon descended another set of bridges to the platform the matriarch landed on. Its body was broken, now fully drow again, leaving limbs bending in directions they truly shouldn't. Ilsenhoon stepped on one of her hands, eliciting a sharp scream of pain from the thing's gurgling throat.

IT MAY NOT BE PROPER KNEELING OR BOWING. BUT IT SEEMS LIKE GROVELLING ENOUGH TO ME, his thoughts cracked in the matriarch's mind. He bent down, lifting the drow's head and began to wrap his tentacles around it. One slipped around the broken creature's neck, strangling it, while two kept it still and the fourth made for the thing's eyes, wriggling into the sockets and bursting them like oversized maggots, so that even in death, the matriarch would be unable to see again.

His mandibles dug into her skull and eagerly consumed her brainmatter, savoring the taste of new magic, new history and best of all, the flavor of a leader.

Afterwards, he pushed the corpse off the edge of the platform, letting it fall to the bottom of the canyon before quickly departing the area, before more drow arrived.

As he made it back to the campsite, he found the rest of the crew there, getting out of their shackles and packing up the ship, readying it to leave immediately. Giving the jungle one last look, Ilsenhoon boarded the ship as well and settled in for the long trip back.