It had been disappointing, to be sure. There had been an anticipation
that the Illithid Queen would be interested in mentoring Alacazar and the
fleeting visits had betrayed what he had thought were a shared look between
her and he that "Soon, I will call for you." As his seventeenth birthday
approached, the things he would say to her when finally allowed to speak and
a resolve to impress swirled about his head.
Then that day came. Whispers that the queen had descended to join the rest
of the hive had been heard all morning and afternoon. Finally, as night
began to fall, he saw her sitting on a bench, surrounded by her royal guard.
"Alacazar, approach," said one of the guardsmen gruffly.
She slowly stood up and looked him over.
"I find you unfit," she said and sat back down.
In that moment, Alacazar knew that was all there was to be. She did not
vacillate, she did not reconsider. What was so offensive to her tastes he
would never know, and he knew that he would never get an opportunity to
approach or ask.
So began a new life for Alacazar, one away from The Great Hive.
Swirls of black mist surround a floating octopus man. His skin is black
and appears to be wet to the touch. Thin and scarred, his limbs hang limply
by his tiny frame. Eyes blinking slowly, sliding over a thin layer of
slime. He would probably only be about four feet tall, were he standing on
the ground, tiny compared to anyone but a gnome.