The thralls revolted. The expeirment had taken many years by this point, and my most favored, Nylia, was grey at the temples when she came to me, armed with a sword, and told me to hide. Of course, as expected, I was horrified to see her with a weapon and grabbed at her with my thoughts, ready to destroy her for her treachery - but what it came to be, when she shook off the effects with a will I did not know she had - she put the blade to my throat and proclaimed that I had given her mercy - and it was to be repaid.
The city burned, and horrific fires took many a quarter - as the stone was itself set to flame. Adventurers, dark and determined and beautiful in their way, took the city, and poured a powerful acid into the pool of the elder-brain, severing its thoughts from our own. They slew the great mind, and silenced a hundred thousand bits of the minds that had come before, but in doing, I was given a relapse into this stat eof mind - where it may be cold and silent, but I am no longer as ... fretful.
That is not to say they did not find me, in my laboratory, with Nylia, and that large brutish half-orc who I had given the gift to. Both sat at a table with me, and I dictated to them and gave to them my things, that it may be remembered, and sought after, that my research may continue. Consigned to death, I would not dignify my fears with the mammilian flailing about and screaming.
And when they came for me, when their arrows were drawn and the gleaming blade of Carsomyr who gave off a flame likened to the terrible star so high above, I stood, and waited, hand upon my staff.
I waited, as they entered, as they saw my two thralls quietly gathering the books, scrolls, and journals. They entered and I chose to face my end with my tendrils low and my red eyes staring.
I think it confused the simple creatures, for they lowered their weapons, and I was allowed to breath a moment more than I had planned.