[ Even Jarlaxle has no room for humor. It must be dire, then. (He picks up the thoughts now clear to him, now that his co-leader has nothing to shield his mind, and realizes what that disorienting feeling might be.) Though as the fog that seems to rest heavy on his mind begins to clear a little, the organic design of the ship feels both terribly familiar and not at all.

He has never been aboard a nautiloid, but a nautiloid this clearly is. The sweeping curves and breathing components of illithid design are unmistakable.

He takes the hand and gets to his feet, too shaken to feel irritated with the world and himself about having to accept even that much assistance. ]

They've robbed you quite thoroughly, [ he comments, far more lightly than he feels, as he begins to feel the comforting gathering of psionic energy come back to him now that he is properly conscious and thinking. ] Illithids have no great love for your usual assortment of trinkets and artifacts - I can't imagine they will put it to any good use. It would be wasteful not to scour this place and get it all back.

[ Where Jarlaxle leads, he'll follow. He's still a little too dazed to get his bearings more than room by room. ]