You don’t remember your own name or how you got into the bowels of the Illithid machine. In fact, you remember very little, but there are several things you have discovered over the last few days.
1. You are a gnome of advanced years and even more advanced intelligence. You go by the nickname Whitebeard, obviously due to your appearance.
2. You are a slave in an underground city of Illithid, or mind flayers, as they are commonly called.
3. You have a knack for engineering. You are tasked with maintenance and simple projects regarding electrified cables, capacitors, and the springs and gears of some giant powered clockwork mechanism. These tasks are simple, though, and your old mind churns with ideas of much greater complexity.
4. You have a knack for magic. Arcane words to half remembered spells drift though your mind. Occasionally, a complete spell comes clearly into focus, but after you caused one of the Illithid to burn to death, they stunned you with their psionic abilities and cut out your tongue. So now you cannot utter a single word, much less cast a spell.
5. The Illithid can read your mind. Every time you start to make progress on something they didn’t instruct you to do, they appear and scramble your poor brain. It’s not a complete scramble, as bits of your memory linger after each incident, but it is more than enough to cause you to guard your thoughts very carefully.
6. You have found a way to think about possibilities of escape by re-associating your thoughts with random silliness, which appears to confound your captors.
7. Using your new method of deceptive thinking, you have devised some possible secret projects that might aid in your escape…
a. You remember something about explosives, and you might have the materials to craft some.
b. You might be able to construct some sort of helmet that could give you protection from the illithid phychic powers.
c. You have a vague memory of a healer. If you can get to her, maybe she can surgically graft you a new tongue so that you could cast spells again.
Currently, you work on a blown capacitor while trying to decide which project to pursue first and abstractly applying your thoughts to a rather amusing limerick.
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