Stupid Human Problems

[wrecking_yard]

I'd caught Klorota's flicker of notice when I got my first good look at the damn thing and was reminded of Delilah's wolves, so the sense of Attention with a considering pause when we get somewhere to rest is not a surprise. I settle to clean and check over the pepperbox with a vague acknowledgment.

{You had (some form of) recognition.} There's a tiny prod the direction of the flicker of memory of the wolf blocking the door out, but it's faint; Klorota seems to have noticed that it's something to be careful of.

|Necromantic servitor I've encountered before - still sorting how similar they are.|

There's an unsettled thoughtful pause, as much as I'm sure most wouldn't believe an illithid could BE unsettled. Something about it is bothering him, on a scale he doesn't want to ignore; he tugs on the memory of Kima's part of the story, that our mutual enemy has an artifact of the god of undeath.

Gods, just what I need - a possible surprise personal stake down here. |I don't know what god they followed, if any, or if there's any chance of a connection.|

They may not have looked over physically, but I definitely have their apprehensive attention. {They?}

I set down my tools and settle for feigning a catnap; I'm liable to accidentally injure myself working on it during this conversation, although I can feel Delilah's name etched into one of the barrels as I settle the pepperbox. I'm not sure where to start on why it feels easier to explain this to an Illithid - No, I know why, Klorota is completely disconnected from human society and their only interest is cautious pragmatism about a potential threat; they're not interested in gory details and aren't a being where I need to worry about them deciding to do something stupid on my behalf. It's a discussion of a tactical concern, not floundering around the streets begging for help or trying to convince a paladin not to go off and get killed.

Klorota's still listening and waiting for me to figure out where to start on an explanation.

They wanted something - below Whitestone. |Do you know anything about-| I focus on the image of a map; Craghammer that we're under marked, the larger continent, where and how far Whitestone is in relation to the dwarven city. |Anything that might be deep underground in this area?|

It takes Klorota a minute to respond, basically giving me a (busy) signal while sifting through their own memory - then answering with a blank; they know nothing about what might be underground in that area. |The other horn perhaps?|

My turn to think. I hadn't been old enough to learn any of the details of the old family charge; the Briarwoods had no end of frustration over that, I just knew the normal common knowledge story about the Sun Tree sealing some great evil...

Well, no. There was the story Archie's grandmother had mentioned, about the dwarves in the area being enslaved to build some kind of structure; it was either built underground or pulled underground and the Sun Tree was planted over it, the surviving dwarves had thrown in with my ancestors after that. |Likely not. The vaults Kima described were built by servants of the gods, removed from where Orcus's followers might have kept them.| And Klorota was paying enough attention to have caught what I did remember of the story. I'm not sure if it's a relief that the Briarwoods weren't after the sibling of the horrible artifact we're dealing with, or more of a worry that their goal remains an unknown.

Klorota tugs at my attention, back to the wolf and its creator as a question; methodology and if there's any chance of similarity that might yield useful information.

I manage a brief image of Sylas and Delilah as I saw them when they entered the grounds originally, before things went to Hell, trying very carefully not to invoke any of the images of what came later, and then try to focus on the image of the wolf outside the abandoned manor - the one that I was taken out with the help of a paladin. |More controlled. Could almost pass for a big wolf without a close look, visibly rotting in places but not showing blatant alteration. Parts could function separated from the whole.| The hind legs, twitching after the front half of it had been obliterated by gunshots and divine power; the way the wolf face tore open in multiple directions to a maw where it was visible that it wasn't teeth all the way down at that time like the creature we just fought,

And the one that had blocked our escape, the face closing up back to ‘could be mistaken for normal’ suddenly at footsteps behind us up the hall because Sylas had caught up -

I feel my throat tighten and the outline of every scar from the imprisonment after, the bloody massacre, Sylas blocking the other side of the hallway covered in blood with a visible unnatural gleam in his eyes,

and then there's a strange sensation that's a different kind of skin crawling as Klorota's presence gets much more pervasive - like having some alien horror carefully grabbing on to hold me still mentally while shoving whatever boxes I'd opened shut.

|Thank you.| He's definitely still curious, but he's blocking all of it off to almost nothing beyond the aftershock rattling and an academic outline of what happened. |They betrayed and murdered my family for whatever's down there. I barely escaped years ago. I've been hunting anything of theirs I can find outside the city but I haven't learned anything about their plans or what they might be tied to.|

Disappointed acknowledgement, but the slight vertigo and creeping wrong of the contact isn't pulling back immediately; Klorota doesn't want to let go until I'm more steady because they don't want risk one of us being unable to react if there is a sudden threat, and because Lady Kima might take it as something hostile he did and he doesn't want that stupid fight.

"Y'allright there, lad?"

I get jarred back to my surroundings by a hand on my shoulder - Lady Kima and Pike are both hovering nearby with clear concern, and some of the others are looking over; Klorota's still sitting watching the fire with no visible sign of attention, but their tentacles are mostly still, with occasional little confused tics.

"You went pale and looked pretty distressed." Kima's worried; she's sharp and it figures she'd pay attention that much.

"I'm fine, that thing just stirred a few bad memories."

"The fuck have you been through for THAT to remind you of anything?" Vax is now giving me a spectacular look over the fire.

I give him a lopsided and probably not very sane grin. "A lot."

Kima looks more sharply concerned and is giving me her own version of the 'is this related' look Klorota had given me.

I take a deep breath; Klorota's still holding whatever strange psychic steadying they started, even if it is more obvious and unsettling than I'm used to. "There was a necromantic servitor at an abandoned manor a bit before I met the rest of the group - not the same kind of construction and behavior, just horrifically warped, and I was thankfully not the only one poking around at the time."

Everyone else seems to mostly accept it, but there's more sense that they're accepting that I don't want to talk about it and am confident it's not related than that they think that's honestly the whole story.

"If anything comes to mind that might be connected-"

"You have my word I will tell you everything immediately, Gods forbid it comes to that." I pat Kima's hand on my shoulder; my coordination's a little off even with - or perhaps because of - Klorota still steadying me with enough contact to feel slightly drunk and nauseous. It's the kind of feeling that normally goes with the more awful, sick kind of overly drunk.

Kima sits back down while I'm focusing on getting bearings and Klorota is carefully withdrawing the brief invasion; I'm still light headed by the time it settles back to 'Normal conversational/ambient contact' again.

|You avoid this with your comrades?| Klorota is definitely confused that I told them more than I have anyone in Vox Machina.

|I've had bad experiences the last time I tried to explain to another surface dweller - they thought I was crazy and didn't believe me.|

Klorota flags my attention toward everyone else and how I've been working with them in an incredulous query - calling bullshit on the idea they wouldn't believe me.

|That's worse.| I don't want to lose all of them to the Briarwoods, too.

Klorota gives me a long, last impression of being deeply dubious about my handling of the entire situation, then drops attention on me with the clear decision that it's not their problem.