The mindflayer's enclave

Your line leads you into one of the two biggest buildings. Here, a grey-ish looking gnome is inspecting the slaves. Afterwards they are led into one of the adjacent rooms, as he writes something down into a big book on a pedestal.

Cleric, that damned airhead, has somehow managed to get several spots ahead of you, and is already being led into one of ghe doors.

Then it hits you.

That stupid numbskull of an orc! He has sorted the two of you into the wrong line! You're in a room full of women!

"Let's see." the gnome says once it's your turn, inspecting your ballgag. "Another halfling for Mistress' account." He jots something down into that huge book of his. "We've had a huge influx of halflings lately, looks like someone's village got raided huh?" He laughs a toothless laugh.

"Hmmmfbl!" You try to inform him of the orc's mistake.

"What? Look I don't have the time to chat it up with every **** that...", he squints at you, then almost falls from his high chair from laughing. "He did it again. Two time's in a row even! Look I don't know what to tell you, that orc out there has a pretty high bar, you'd need to clear to pass as male. I'll tell you the same thing I told blondie a minute ago. With looks like yours, the drow won't even care." He winks a dirty wink at you and resumes writing as if the issue had been resolved. Has this old man gone senile? You're fuming.

"So, where do we send you..." He reads something from a stack of papers next to his book. "Straight to the block it is. You'll go through that door over there." He points to a door with a picture of a crate above it, on the crate stands a vaguely humanoid figure with bound hands. Another dwarf, a **** as well going by attire, appears next to you, and pushes you through the door. "Off you are, to an uncertain fate!", you hear that insufferable gnome cackle behind you.

The crowd in front of you murmurs and shuffles. You're standing on a crate, in your new, white underwear, which the slaves back at sorting put on you. To your shame, this new set of underwear includes a wide, white strap across your chest. As if you had any breasts that needed hiding. The slaves washed you, powdered you, checked you for parasited and disease, and loaded you onto a cart.

And now, you're here. On a market square in this horrible city. Being sold off to the highest bidder. And currently, the highest bid is coming from something you have had nightmares about. A group of mindflayers. Illithids, as your science book called them. They surely can smell your exquisite brain from down there, with watering tentacles and growling stomaches.

"Sold."

You go pale. You were hoping that drow noble, that was also bidding on you, would seal the deal. But it looks like the illithid's pockets ran deeper. So long my beautiful, beautiful mind, you think to yourself, while you still can.

The illithids take you by the literal leash, and lead you into what appears to be a society of their own. With strange crystals and contraptions littering their carverns and homes. They seem to co-exist with the drow of Menzoberranzan. This city's name, as you've leaned during sorting.

They bring you into a large room, full of lights and arcane symbols, and make you sit down in a strange machine. A helmet is lowered onto your head, your view blocked out by it's dark, colored glasses, which replace your own. Then they turn it on, and you feel psychic tendrils probing at your mind. Do you resist?

Roll a will save.