Sister Mara turns her skill at identifying magic at the bronzed ball- it does indeed contain some faint traces of divination, as well as abjuration magic and transmutation. Its function, however, remains a mystery...
Quick, cast detect plot mcguffin!
Knowledge- Religion DC 20 (looking at the statue):
Spoiler:
The strange statue represents the Peacock Spirit- an obscure Thassilonian deity of mind, body and soul, whose worship ended with the empire's fall.
The stone door at the opposite end of the L shape from the statue seems to be barred from the other side.
Finding neither magic nor mechanical trap, Sister Mara extracts the iris with nary a pop. Revealed is a small hollow containing a ball made of a bronzed metal that is warm to the touch. Looking at it closer, you can see that the ball is criss-crossed with tiny seams.
Uwais' keen gaze surveys the strange statue, allowing himself to be absorbed into the details of the carving... until his eye stops on the iris of the eye at the top of the feather. The iris appears to be a separate piece that could be removed.
While inside the room, the druid also notes a heavy set of stone doors at the end of the room opposite the statue and an inscription on the floor.
Though veiled behind the plumage of the soul, the Eye still sees, unblinking, through all the ages, from the beginning to the end of time. When the Three are One and the spirit becomes flesh, the Seal may be opened and the Sleepers awakened. And the glorious apocalypse shall consume us all.
From where the Sister stands, there is ten feet of space between the doorway and the wall in the next chamber. Looking left, she can see a dead end where the puckered flesh of the "door" meets the wall to form an alcove of sorts. To the right, the chamber continues ten feet before hitting a corner- it appears to be an "L" shaped room or corridor with the door you're standing in comprising the short leg of the shape.
The corner on the right is dominated by a large statue depicting a tall feather emblazoned with a large open eye. Though aparently carved from stone, it gleams in your light with a gold-green iridescence.
The stone carving slots into the niche. Starting with the carved rune and spreading out through the stone block it begins to transform- from solid rock to a rippling wall of flesh. As you watch, the mass shudders and a bloody wound opens down the center, widening with an unpleasant moist ripping sound to reveal a passage into another chamber.
The depression itself looks like one of those weird runes that decorate the ossuary here and there... Thassilonian or something. The strangest thing is that the depression isn't to a mechanism- the "door" isn't even really a door now that you're looking closely at it. Just a solid block of stone carved to look like a door.
Retracing your steps through the Ossuary, you return to the long corridor leading south from the guardposts where you discovered the secret entrance to Tripe's lair. The ten foot wide corridor continues for approximately fifty feet more, before taking a right turn to the east and ending at a pair of stone doors. After a thorough examination by Kua and Sister Mara, the door is deemed safe. With a slow rumble, the Duskwarden pushes the edifice open and steps inside.
You enter a twenty by thirty foot chamber with heavy black curtains draping the walls, a thick layer of dust carpeting the floor. In the middle of the opposite wall, you see another set of double doors- this one featureless except for a strangely shaped depression in its center.
After a warm, fresh meal and a few moments to collect yourselves and upgrade your gear you find yourselves once more descending the hidden spiral staircase into the Ossuary near Tripe's makeshift laboratory. The acrid scent of the necromancer's chemical concoctions assail your nostrils, undercut with the mustiness of the tomb itself. Your eyes adjust once more to the long grey corridors often illuminated by little more than the magical and mundane lights you've brought with you.
Let me know the marching order and where you're heading.
As per RAW, the alchemist's lab weighs forty pounds in total- maybe Yang wants to drop that off at home or ask the priests to watch it for him?
From the Cathedral, those of you that are heading out emerge into the Bottoms district. Enclosed as it is by the vast vaulted expanse of the city's walls and lit by lanterns and torches, it could not be further from the eerie silence of the Ossuary. Laughter and boisterous chatter resound through the streets along with the sounds of smithing, carpentry and other blue-collar crafts. While the residents of the district look fairly typical for Kaer Maga, now and then someone passes by and you notice an odd scar, brand or tattoo. Others occasionally miss eyes or fingers- legacies of previous lives when they were the property of others.
Uwais waves to a few passing acquaintances as he leads the way to a tavern he's familiar with. Marked with a wooden sign depicting a pair of knives crossed over a shield that resembles a plate, it's called the Sword and Board. The warm food and ale is a welcome change from the rations you packed for your expedition and, as per local custom, Kua eats free since he's a Duskwarden.
Sister Mara walks through the streets, occasionally receiving a "Hail, Sister" from passing residents until she comes to a locksmith's shop. Taking a few moments to look over the selection of picks, she finds a set that's to her liking. Exchanging the coin with the shopkeep, he says, "If you plan to liberate more than just treasure with these, Sister, I wish you the best of luck."
Crypstmistress Nerissia looks you each of you in the eye once more.
"If there are no other questions, remarks or revelations, I will bring the news of your success to the High Priestesses."
Anything else? Any purchases you want to make in the city?
"That is why I cannot accept your payment, Cryptmistress," Sister Mara says, having pointedly not taken the pouch of coins when offered to her. "As Detressa said, I also allowed the creature to depart freely, despite my own feelings with respect to the undead. But the creature chose not to attack us when we were weakened from our battle with Tripe, and I sensed that it - she - spoke truthfully when she expressed her desire to continue her existence in peace without causing harm to innocents. The Dawnflower teaches us to offer compassion and peace to those who truly do not wish harm to others, and to show no mercy only to those who revel in slaughter. I know that does not agree with your doctrine in this matter, but I must hold true to my Goddess' tenets. However, I will hunt her down without mercy if I hear word that she lied to us and is causing harm to others."
"Now, if you still desire my assistance, I will help the others clear the remainder of the Ossuary's catacombs of its remaining dangers - at no cost to the Church of Pharasma. However, I will understand if you wish for me to leave your employment at this time."
The priestess inclines her head.
"Very well. I must disagree, but as you have said, that is the fundamental difference between our faiths. If it does not offend your sensibilities, then by all means continue in the task we have hired you for. I did agree at the outset, however, that the sum would be 600 coins divided amongst you- your companions will have to decide who takes your share if you do not wish it."
Detressa Venci wrote:
Detressa bows her head still further. “I am sorry Cryptmistress, I beg and pray for the goddess’s forgiveness. I had exhausted the Lady’s gifts in the battle with Tripe and was unable to prevent the thing’s escape on my own ... and not one of my companions was willing to help. I will do my best to track the thing down if it remains in the city, should I be allowed.”
"I will discuss the matter with our superiors as to the best method of moving forward- this is a delicate situation. For now it is best to continue with the task at hand if you still plan to clear the Ossuary."
The Cryptsmistress' expression remains unchanged but her eyes flash with a turbulent anger.
"Tripe's accomplice escaped? Into the city? I believe I stressed at your entrance that this was a discrete matter. Now you tell me that one of those that desecrated the dead have fled- what's more, a free-willed undead creature- with all of their knowledge of what happened? And are you aware that there is but one law- one true, unbroken law in Kaer Maga? No free-willed undead amongst the populace. Even the degenerates of Ankar-Te maintain this law. Whether or not you see an 'indication', as you put it Sister, does not mean that this monster cannot create more of its kind."
She shakes her head, a frown dropping the corners of her mouth and a furrow appearing in her brow.
"But I suppose now it is too late. I thank you for your efforts, but I cannot say that I am satisfied with this news. And I would certainly expect more from a priestess of Pharasma, much less one accompanied by a servant of the Dawnflower. Whatever this abomination told you, whatever you witnessed, it remains a threat to both the church and the city- if not now, then in the future."
"Simply loathsome.", says the Cryptsmistress, her icy demeanor remaining almost unchanged. She doesn't seem the slightest bit surprised by your answer. "You are certain that he acted alone?"
From the folds of her robe, she pulls out a small iron key and walks to where St. Feodric stands with his mace held aloft. Crouching, she fits the key into a small lock in the stand and opens a safe hidden beneath the statue. She pulls out six small pouches of coin, handing one to each of you.
"Here is your payment for dealing with the matter. The offer remains if you wish to clear the rest of the Ossuary's catacombs. And for your benefit, sir...", she says to Auron before handing him the payment set aside originally for Badang,"this matter must remain private. My superiors and I will be quite upset if news of this event should spread beyond these walls."
"Tripe, you say? Svilennius Tripe? That's a name I had never thought to hear again... but it makes perfect sense, now. How was he carrying all of this out?"
A few of the Pharasmin priests have quite a start as your troop of adventurers and canines walk through the Ossuary several hallways away from your point of entry. With Detressa's guidance, you shortly find the exit through the Godsmouth and back up the cliff to the Cathedral. The dry wind from the Storval Rise is a welcome change of pace from the musty Thassilonian catacombs where you've spent the last few days, even warm and dry as it is. Judging from the sun's position, it is late in the afternoon that you've emerged.
Just as quickly, you are back under the dark vaulted ceiling of the Bottoms district, entering the Cathedral through one of the main entrances. Once more crowding into the chapel to St. Feodric, Detressa returns to you shortly with Cryptsmistress Nerissia.
"I am glad to see you have all returned!", she says- only a wisp of a smile touching her icy demeanor. "I trust you were successful in discovering our body thief and.... excuse me, who are you?", she says, looking at Auron. "Didn't a different man enter with you?"
After an uneventful evening (?) in the archive, you rise once more well rested and eat more of your cold rations before heading back out to Tripe's lab. If the smell was foul yesterday, it's even worse now as the scent of chemicals and rotted flesh mingle and settle into a sickening miasma.
You trudge up sixty feet or so on the spiral stair to find yourselves in a tiny chamber no larger than a closet, a seam in the wall indicating a space where a door may swivel out. After Kua takes a moment to examine the portal for traps and mechanisms, he pushes the door aside. Not a gear or hinge squeaks as it swivels aside- revealing a lit chamber that looks very similar to the Ossuary level maintained by Pharasma's faithful. A few bodies wrapped in funerary shrouds sit in their niches to either side of the hidden door, nary a cobweb or trace of dust in sight.
Yang sniffs, raising a thick finger in protest.
"No offense to our employers or the good Sisters..", he says, gesturing to Sister Mara and Detressa,"...but I would prefer to study those papers, as I have stated. My own, ah, inquiries into matters of the, ah, biological, may be perhaps furthered with their examination."
He puts both palms together, nodding his head.
"And as you are aware, I am no necromancer. My work will not offend your exalted faiths."
The embalming tools are worth maybe 50 gold by your estimation: they're used already and how many places will you be able to pawn it off, really? They are kind of well made, though, so they can probably fetch something.
You remember traveling a little while with an alchemist. In conversation, he told you that formulas and theories were more prized in his craft than raw materials alone. To the right buyer, these notes could fetch you a good 500 gold.
The alchemist's lab- all flasks, burners and pots of chemicals packed up into boxes weighing about forty pounds- could fetch you around 140 gold to the right buyer.
Back at the archive, you set up camp once more and tend to your wounds. With the possible exception of Kua, each of you is starting to feel a bit claustrophobic- days without seeing the sun or other people has left you with a disturbed internal clock and the air- while not as stuffy as you might expect in an ossuary- isn't turned out as often as it would be even in the city above.
Still, you feel stronger than you did yesterday- the focused use of your skills during your time exploring has left you feeling more confident in your abilities, even if yesterday's contentious decision still leaves a foul taste in the rest of your mouths.
Okay, rested up, memorize spells, leveled up. If you want to I.D. any stuff that may be magical, give me some spellcraft rolls along with detect magic.
The smell in the bedroom- cloying perfume with an undercurrent of sweet rot- would be unpleasant on its own, but the overpowering smell of chemicals, dead bodies and the less savory aspects of the mortician's trade combine to make the stench almost unbearable. Neither canine in the party appear to be pleased.
Thanks for the heads up, Bryan. I've got a lot to do at work and I'm running late on illustrations this month (I hate drawing architecture), but I'll post as I can. I expect things to taper off during the month anyways.
Okay, let me know your watch rotation and give me perception checks for those watching the door. When I have a chance, I'll try to put together a map of where you've gone so far- though I think Max has done a really good job of mapping it out up to this point as well.
Draped in her makeshift cloak, the scent of embalming fluid, decay and perfume is a bit less cloying than it would be otherwise as Esme passes, her two skeletal handmaidens in tow.
"My thanks.", she says in passing,"Should you require... well, should your personal compunctions allow you to seek my aid on a matter, I will be found in Ankar-Te."
With that, she crosses the pit and the laboratory to disappear from sight.
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.
Auron wrote:
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."
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?"
“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."
"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.
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."
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?"
"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."
"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."
"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."
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?"
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.
Sorry, a little late...
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.
Stabilize check for Trevor (DC 10, -2 penalty): 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (16) - 2 = 14
Stabilize for Arasmes (DC 10, -5 penalty): 1d20 - 4 ⇒ (19) - 4 = 15
Aldous falls to the ground, holding his breath and watching his comrades' fates through one eye. The skeletons cease their assault, the flames wreathing them dying down to a few smoldering flames. One grabs the fallen Luka by the limp shoulders, the other taking Trevor. The two begin to drag them from the room, down the western passage. At the very least, Trevor and Arasmes still seem to draw breath.
That hope dies, however, as Aldous feels rather than sees a foul presence enter the room. The hair on the back of his neck tingles and his heart races into his throat. A pair of translucent ankles enter his field of vision, the ghostly flesh badly burned and blistered in patches. The figure bends down, its blazing eyes level with Aldous' own.
"A lucky thing that you're here...", it rasps,"... as there is much to be done."
Aldous' Will save: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11
The wizard's mind is wracked as a foreign will takes possession- a calculating intelligence, a thirst for vengeance and an appetite for terror washing over the scholar's mind, forcing his own personality into the background.
The Splatter Man stands in his borrowed flesh and brushes the dirt and grime from his clothes, a grin of anticipation crossing his lips. Freedom at last.
The End
Was the concentration check to cast defensively or in case you get an attack of opportunity? In the interest of speeding things along, I'll assume the latter.
The skeleton menacing Arasmes lashes out as he begins his spell:
Skeleton 1 AoO: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
1d4 + 2 + 1d6 ⇒ (4) + 2 + (4) = 10
But is deflected by the scholar's magical barrier.
Trying to weave around the attacking undead while casting a spell is too much for Aldous after that spill off the horse- he loses his place in the incantation, conjuring little more than a noxious puff of green smoke.
The skeletons renew their assault against Arasmes and Trevor:
Skeleton 1 vs. Trevor: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
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