Muste didn't stay to find out whether his ploy to break the core of the invading force bore fruit or not, but based on the ensuing screams he made an educated guess that it was successful to some degree. Back at the entrance to the dungeon, he turned and slammed his back to the wall, holding a tentacle to his chest as he heaved, a mix of exhaustion from the exposure to the outdoors and the adrenaline that spiked through his mollusk-like body causing him to jiggle as he caught his breath.

To his surprise, none of the filthy humans took pursuit, and he walked back in, expecting them to have clumped up together to face off aginat Oracle and the rest of the much more courageous co-workers. And there, he saw three of them their backs to each other, as well as the headless priest: his facial tentacles curved into an evil smile. They had now seen him, and he saw the mage about to cast a spell.

"Magic Missile!" The illithid burbled as a counter, and using his grimoire as a focus channelled forth a bolt of arcane might that soared through the dark chamber, aiming it right in the wizard whelp's torso. Maybe it wouldn't do too much damage, but knowing how frail his own spell-casting kind are, he might be able to take him out.