You are quite pleased with yourself. The spider goddess has accepted your gift to her, and given time, you can easily imagine a position of power inside the Drow matriarchy. However, when you leave the temple, the town alarms sound.
Male Drow don sleek armor, and the priestess mutter words of supplication, fueling their magic. When the shrouded forms come, you almost let out a sigh of relief.
It was a motley crew of Duergar, Svirfneblin, and Grimlocks, with a few haggard humands thrown into the mix. They were weary in appearance, and unkempt in apparel, wearing only the basest rags, and as well armed as they appeared.
You and a group of warriors easily dispatch them, and just when you clean the knife off of your dagger, a strong concussive force slams you to the ground.
Unable to turn your head, your range of sight is askew, but you can clearly make out a new cluster of shadows. Man high, and covered in billowing robes, when they finally come within range of your darksight, your blood freezes.
They were Illithids, a whole inquisition, and any member of the Underdark worth their salt knows the power they hold in the caverns.
Octopoid heads with squirming tentacles, and sharp, shrewd eyes full of malice.
Another warrior, paralyzed as well lays in front of you , and the leader of the inquisition pauses, and the thrusts his tentacles into the hapless man, and consumes his brain, tentacles eagerly lapping any that missed his gaping gullet.
He approaches you, and makes a gesture. Strong arms pick you up, and a musky odor assails you. It is without a doubt a troll.
The inquisition gathers a handful of other prisoners, sating their appetite for psychic energy on the rest.
Being carried through the tunnels to certain doom, you wonder what to do.