"I know you harbor doubts, let me explain..." The artificer droned on, but Michel didn't hear him. He was listening to something just past.

You are unworthy of it.

Planescape Survival Guide (the handy-dandy guide, not the comic ) #1, Beholders:

LevelHDBABFort
RefWillSkill Points
Special 1st1d8+1+2
+2+2(8+Int)

A warning is in order here for this story. Given the nature and personality of this particular Baernaloth, the level of blatant violence and gore is much higher in this story than in previous ones. So please do keep that in mind before reading this. And also, this story is significantly longer than the previous entries in the Baernaloth cycle.“From time to time I pause before a mirror to draw back my lips and gaze at the truth… Show me your smile and I will show you your fate.” – Matt Cardin, “Teeth”

“So here’s the way it works out: if you don’t give them water for a day, then they don’t go to the toilet. Give them water once, and they go to the toilet once; take pity on them and give them water twice – they go to the toilet twice. So it’s pure and simple common sense: just don’t give them anything to drink.” – Alexander Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago Vol 2, pp 495-496

She was not always evil, say the legends. She was not always as she is now. Other places, other times, other myths in the weaving. Made before the Twin Rivers joined with the Ma’at and swept outwards, rippling a greater truth across all the many worlds and planes. And not wholly forgotten, even now. Set apart, and treasured, and harboring a hidden power. (It was before the waking of the baern…)

Nalla Kond Vellus is a stern woman of few words. She always seems to be watching with her piercing, gray eyes. When engaged in conversation, she speaks clearly with a quiet yet brassy voice. She speaks with a slight accent that is difficult to place. Those that converse with her quickly realize that her normal muteness is not for any lack of intelligence.

Somewhere in the distant past... an illithid slave world on the Prime... It's dark and it's cold. All round me is the persistent sound of dripping sewerage... at least, I think its sewerage. I just can't see anything in this infernal darkness. It certainly smells like it though... You'd think the tentacle-heads would treat their meals a little better than this...