Sister Mara finds several lingering magical auras on Tripe's body, including on his spear and several potions in his belt pouch- two blue potions and an orange concoction along with a wand in the form of a bone carved with ruins, a bit of human hair tied around the end. He's wearing a blood spattered suit of masterwork studded leather, a leather satchel full of masterwork embalming tools and a recipe book of some kind. In addition, there are mundane alchemical items- two flasks of acid, two flasks of alchemist's fire, two smokesticks, two thunderstones and a tanglefoot bag.
In the lab, Yang estimates that if all the equipment were packed up, he would have a full alchemist's lab at his disposal. In the bookshelves, he finds a unique set of tomes and notes: Secrets of the Chymists of Life in Death. The volumes detail (in sometimes vague and apocryphal terms) the complex methods of raising the dead through chemical means. Some passages seem to be written in code- likely known only to those that practice Tripe's profession.
Twenty five feet on the opposite side of the pit, the passage ends in a wide doorway blocked by long red curtains.
Jus' bag the loot, I could carry it all if needed.
On the opposite side of the pit, past the laboratory- so above Kua, Mara and Auron's current position.
I'll stuff the loot 'ere first eh. Then we'll see down the end past the reds curtain.
Uwais looks across the pit towards the curtains. "How shall we be getting across?"
Try this, give it a whirl and hopes it sticks into something.
Auron fishes out a grappling hook tying it to a 50ft coil of hemp rope..
While Auron pulls out his rope, he glances toward the side and spots a few sturdy-looking planks that may be long enough to bridge the gap.
Be with you in a moment." Kua will walk back up the stairs and around to the top of the pit.
Give way eh mates?
Auron whirls the hook and rope and tries to catch a suitable surface.
"Why are you swinging rope, when the boards may work?" Yang evaluates the planks to see if they might be able to support his weight.
The planks are solid and straight with no signs of wear- they may creak a bit, but as long as Yang keeps the jumping up and down to a minimum, it should hold.
Eh, I was thinking that ye may need a handhold to get across huh, big man? I wouldn't bet to hope you had a way of falling safely down if ye lost footing.
Auron stops whirling about his hook and stows it in his backpack sheepishly.
With the planks down near one of the walls, you have a fairly reliable bridge across the pit, though it creaks a bit under Yang's bulk and Auron's armored frame. When you near the red curtain, a woman's voice calls out from within.
"Come no closer! I've no quarrel with you and will leave peaceably."
The voice pauses.
"You killed him, didn't you?"
"If you mean Tripe, then yes, we did," Sister Mara responds warily to the voice behind the curtain. "But who are you? A prisoner? Or an accomplice?"
"Yes, I suppose I was an accomplice in a manner of speaking. More of a patient- and lover. My name is Esme Varisi: I am saddened that Svilennius is gone, but I bear you no ill will. His hatred and obsession left little room for reason."
Come out woman, I'd not be kind if you has tricks about.
Auron readies a javelin, sure that some form of deceit is afoot.
"And how do I know you won't slaughter me the instant I step out of this room? You hardly sound the merciful type. I propose that you give me an hour to quit the Ossuary and you will find no trace of me when you return."
Woman, I am a knight and me word is me honor. I promise I wouldn't strike you if you mean no 'arm. I think me mates 'ere would agree to offer 'elp if ye'd barter with lore of the area.
Diplomacy:
"Our goal was Tripe, you are not. We are not so bloodthirsty as him, I think."
aid another diplomacy
"Yes, I suppose I was an accomplice in a manner of speaking. More of a patient- and lover. My name is Esme Varisi: I am saddened that Svilennius is gone, but I bear you no ill will. His hatred and obsession left little room for reason."
"A patient, you said? How so?" Sister Mara asks, honestly confused "Are you saying that Tripe's activities were all to help you?"
"Draw the curtains.", the woman says. For a moment, you're confused- is she talking to you?
Skeletal fingers pull aside the red curtains in front of the entrance, revealing a large chamber with a vaulted ceiling and bearing the distinct impression of habitation rather than the bare abandonment of the rest of the Ossuary. Lit candelabras reveal old tapestries hanging from the walls to ward off the subterranean chill and a threadbare carpet covering the floor. Shabby furniture- a few chairs and tables, an armoire, and a dresser- flanks a large canopied bed in the center of the room, topped with satin sheets and a heap of lumpy pillows.
Flanking the doors on either side are glassy black skeletons dressed in womens' funerary garb. Sitting on the bed would be Esme. At one time, she may have been beautiful. But now her skin is rotting and putrid and her once-lustrous blonde hair hangs lank and lifeless. She wears a fashionable formal dress and other accoutrements; while they would be fine on a living woman, they seem garish and vulgar against her decaying flesh. Heavy makeup and cloying perfume seem to have been applied to mask the damage- but it's a lost cause.
"It would be wrong to say that I was the entire reason Svilennius came here- revenge was never far from his thoughts. But, believe it or not, I became as I am while I was alive. I was afflicted with a magical wasting disease less than a year ago. None of the doctors or temples in Korvosa could cure me, barring a miracle of some sort. I would be dead in a year if I didn't find some sort of solution. I came to Kaer Maga hoping that I could learn something in Ankar-Te.... but I didn't have the time left to learn advanced necromancy, nor could I afford any treatment."
"I had given up hope when I met Svilennius. He was the only person willing to help me and he was successful. But he had difficulty replicating the results he had with me... until you killed him."
“I am sorry for your condition,” says Detressa, somewhat coldly. “That is a horrible thing to afflict anyone. But fate – whether fair or not – had found you. To cheat such certain death by so unnatural a means, when not even the servants of the gods could do so, is to go against the will of Lady Pharasma.”
More of a patient- and lover.
Esme's expression tightens and she stands.
"If I had had a large enough donation I'm sure Pharasma's will would be a bit more mutable. But I used the means I had at my disposal. If your fate were an early death, you would seek to defy it as well... and if you wouldn't, one among your companions would. Now that you've had a chance to gawk, will you permit me to leave? Or are you determined to enforce your vision of Fate?"
More of a patient- and lover.
Esme's expression tightens and she stands.
"If I had had a large enough donation I'm sure Pharasma's will would be a bit more mutable. But I used the means I had at my disposal. If your fate were an early death, you would seek to defy it as well... and if you wouldn't, one among your companions would. Now that you've had a chance to gawk, will you permit me to leave? Or are you determined to enforce your vision of Fate?"
Yang inches a bit closer, not hiding his fascination with the woman. "Most ... interesting. Successful, you say he was? Can you tell me? Your life still ended, yes? Would that not be failure?" There is no taunting or malice in Yang's voice; his questions are driven solely by curiosity.
Yang inches a bit closer, not hiding his fascination with the woman. "Most ... interesting. Successful, you say he was? Can you tell me? Your life still ended, yes? Would that not be failure?" There is no taunting or malice in Yang's voice; his questions are driven solely by curiosity.Esme's expression tightens and she stands.
"If I had had a large enough donation I'm sure Pharasma's will would be a bit more mutable. But I used the means I had at my disposal. If your fate were an early death, you would seek to defy it as well... and if you wouldn't, one among your companions would. Now that you've had a chance to gawk, will you permit me to leave? Or are you determined to enforce your vision of Fate?"
Esme entertains Yang's inquiries with equanimity.
"I am undead- but I am free-willed and retain my memories prior to my death. I cannot create others of my kind, like a ghoul or a vampire, nor do I require sustenance like them. Ironically, it may be easier to prevent my decay as an undead than it was while I was among the living."
Kua stares, wide eyed at Esme as she speaks. From his days of wandering beneath Kaer Maga, he is unaccustomed to hearing something so horrific speaking so eloquently. The Duskwarden holds his tongue and watches on, ready to defend his friends if need be.
Uwais bites his tongue against the urge to shout. "She's clearly an abomination against nature," the halfling mutters low, so only his allies can hear him, "but I'm loathe to attack something that only wants to live, as long as it means no harm to us." Waya still growls, upset by the preponderance of undead. Uwais places a calming hand on her neck. "Still, stranger things have happened in Kaer Maga."
I've given me word not to 'arm her, and I'se seen worst in the streets above. If she still has the will to live an' this is not by choice then let 'er go.
Yang inches a bit closer, not hiding his fascination with the woman. "Most ... interesting. Successful, you say he was? Can you tell me? Your life still ended, yes? Would that not be failure?" There is no taunting or malice in Yang's voice; his questions are driven solely by curiosity.Esme's expression tightens and she stands.
"If I had had a large enough donation I'm sure Pharasma's will would be a bit more mutable. But I used the means I had at my disposal. If your fate were an early death, you would seek to defy it as well... and if you wouldn't, one among your companions would. Now that you've had a chance to gawk, will you permit me to leave? Or are you determined to enforce your vision of Fate?"Esme entertains Yang's inquiries with equanimity.
"I am undead- but I am free-willed and retain my memories prior to my death. I cannot create others of my kind, like a ghoul or a vampire, nor do I require sustenance like them. Ironically, it may be easier to prevent my decay as an undead than it was while I was among the living."
"What of your disease? Can others get it?" he continues. To the others, he definitely doesn't seem interested in destroying the woman.
I've given me word not to 'arm her, and I'se seen worst in the streets above. If she still has the will to live an' this is not by choice then let 'er go.
"Agreed. If we let the snake go, I do not see why this is different."
“It’s entirely different,” mutters Detressa, clenching her fists. “I certainly don’t want to die anytime soon,” she answers the abomination, “but I respect the will of the gods. If it is my time, it is my time – and your time has come and gone. What you have now is not life, it is barely existence, and if it were up to me I would not let you walk out of this place.” The priestess looks around at her companions, disapprovingly at Auron, pleadingly at Sister Mara and thoughtfully at the rest.
“It is not entirely up to me though – I’m not the leader of this group. If my companions are willing to let you go, I’m not sure I have the power to stop you myself. I would implore them to give you the end that the god’s and nature demand – but that is a choice that their own heads and hearts must determine.”
Eh, priestess, if Pharasma wants ta claim 'er, then she will, one way or the other, by yer 'and or by another's. I'll not lose sleep letting this one go.
Sister Mara has been standing back from the group, listening carefully to all that the undead woman has said. The young inquisitor finds herself conflicted. On the one hand her hatred against undead and her desire to see all such creatures destroyed compel her to strike the undead woman down before she can say another word. On the other hand the doctrine of the Dawnflower teaches Her faithful to offer offer compassion and peace to those who do not revel in destruction and who may seek redemption.
Sister Mara:
"I understand your feelings, Sister," Mara says to Detressa. "Believe me, I would like nothing more than to see all undead abominations purged from the face of Golarion. Yet the undead are allowed to walk in the streets of the city above!" The inquisitor's voice betrays a hint of bewilderment at the seeming madness of the residents of Kaer Maga.
"However, regardless of my personal prejudices, the Dawnflower teaches that we should offer compassion and peace to those who truly do not wish harm to others. I have listened carefully to what this poor woman has said. I sense that she does not pose a danger to others, and that she is being honest with us when she says that she will leave the Ossuary and never trouble the church of Pharasma. I will not stand in her way."
“It’s entirely different,” mutters Detressa, clenching her fists. “I certainly don’t want to die anytime soon,” she answers the abomination, “but I respect the will of the gods. If it is my time, it is my time – and your time has come and gone. What you have now is not life, it is barely existence, and if it were up to me I would not let you walk out of this place.” The priestess looks around at her companions, disapprovingly at Auron, pleadingly at Sister Mara and thoughtfully at the rest.
“It is not entirely up to me though – I’m not the leader of this group. If my companions are willing to let you go, I’m not sure I have the power to stop you myself. I would implore them to give you the end that the god’s and nature demand – but that is a choice that their own heads and hearts must determine.”
Yang looks to Detressa. "Ah, yes, her destruction is the will of the gods. Of course, keeping her alive is also the will of the gods. It is merely a question of which gods, yes?"
He turns back to Esme. "Again, please forgive my persistence. Your disease, will that be caught by others? Do you know what it is?"
Detressa sighs at Mara’s answer. “Have you ever heard of an undead thing that was not, or did not turn to evil?” she asks, but she seems to have realised that she has lost this battle.
“This is not right,” she says to the creature, trying one last time. “It is against the will of Pharasma, it is something that I think you will regret, this non-life that you have chosen over natural death, and you deny your friends and family the chance to mourn you, remember you as you were in life, and move on with theirs, knowing that you are where you are supposed to be in the afterlife.”
Detressa sighs at Mara’s answer. “Have you ever heard of an undead thing that was not, or did not turn to evil?” she asks, but she seems to have realised that she has lost this battle.
"No, I have not," Sister Mara replies, clearly not pleased with her own decision. "But Sarenrae's message is that any who express a desire to live a life of peace must be given the opportunity. Only those who serve the Rough Beast must be shown no mercy."
“It’s entirely different,” mutters Detressa, clenching her fists. “I certainly don’t want to die anytime soon,” she answers the abomination, “but I respect the will of the gods. If it is my time, it is my time – and your time has come and gone. What you have now is not life, it is barely existence, and if it were up to me I would not let you walk out of this place.” The priestess looks around at her companions, disapprovingly at Auron, pleadingly at Sister Mara and thoughtfully at the rest.
“It is not entirely up to me though – I’m not the leader of this group. If my companions are willing to let you go, I’m not sure I have the power to stop you myself. I would implore them to give you the end that the god’s and nature demand – but that is a choice that their own heads and hearts must determine.”
Yang looks to Detressa. "Ah, yes, her destruction is the will of the gods. Of course, keeping her alive is also the will of the gods. It is merely a question of which gods, yes?"
He turns back to Esme. "Again, please forgive my persistence. Your disease, will that be caught by others? Do you know what it is?"
She shakes her head.
"As far as I know, I am not contagious. If you want proof, take a look at Svilennius' corpse. I've spent more time with him than any other living person since I came down with this and he has no symptoms."
Detressa sighs at Mara’s answer. “Have you ever heard of an undead thing that was not, or did not turn to evil?” she asks, but she seems to have realised that she has lost this battle.
“This is not right,” she says to the creature, trying one last time. “It is against the will of Pharasma, it is something that I think you will regret, this non-life that you have chosen over natural death, and you deny your friends and family the chance to mourn you, remember you as you were in life, and move on with theirs, knowing that you are where you are supposed to be in the afterlife.”
Esme laughs bitterly.
"My friends and family have long since mourned me, priestess. Even if it is a 'non-life' as you've said, it's more than what Pharasma had in store for me. I trust my own decisions far more than the will of a distant god.""Now," she says to all of you,"will you let us pass?"
A thought occurs to Kua and a sense of urgency enters his voice. "If we allow you to leave Estus, where will you go? The way we came in is sealed, and it leads into a cathedral of Pharasma anyway. I don't think you would last long if you passed through those doors." Kua's eyes narrow as he speaks. "Is there some other penetration into the ossuary? One that leads into the undercity?"
Detressa shakes her head in frustration at Mara’s argument, sure she would have had an ally in the undead hating inquisitor. Finding little or no support amongst her companions for her position, she steps back, a sour look on her face to allow the undead menace to pass. She briefly considers attacking the creature anyway, hoping that her companions will join her, but she was never the type to act rashly. Her ears prick up at Kua’s question.
Excuse me, Esme, did you mention 'us', who else is with you?
Auron, keeps his javelin ready, although non-threateningly. Auron gives out a low whistle, Jhaik bounds next to his master, tongue wagging expecting a treat.
Excuse me, Esme, did you mention 'us', who else is with you?
Auron, keeps his javelin ready, although non-threateningly. Auron gives out a low whistle, Jhaik bounds next to his master, tongue wagging expecting a treat.
Uwais gives a nod at Auron's question. He checks his sling, ensuring that it is loaded in his hand.
A thought occurs to Kua and a sense of urgency enters his voice. "If we allow you to leave Estus, where will you go? The way we came in is sealed, and it leads into a cathedral of Pharasma anyway. I don't think you would last long if you passed through those doors." Kua's eyes narrow as he speaks. "Is there some other penetration into the ossuary? One that leads into the undercity?"
"I understand that there are more than one.", the cadaverous woman responds,"I intend to strike out past the wormfolk on the east side and descend below to find a way out- perhaps I can barter with it for a route."
Esme picks up the red sheet of the bed and wraps it around herself to hide her features and decaying flesh.
Excuse me, Esme, did you mention 'us', who else is with you?
Auron, keeps his javelin ready, although non-threateningly. Auron gives out a low whistle, Jhaik bounds next to his master, tongue wagging expecting a treat.
Esme gestures to the two skeletons in evening dresses holding the curtains open.
"My handmaids, of course. A lone woman needs protection in such a dangerous place."