>>5225339>>5225321>>5225253>>5225220>>5225214>>5225206>Attempt to converse with the sword chorister.You break from the party as they continue forth. You may do well to attempt some conversation with the swordswoman, at the very least. You might assuage her to treat your party with more care upon your return to the surface. Her wails begin to grow thin, her voice hoarse and weak from the sobs. You take your chance at the window of silence.
“You there.” You attempt a greeting, facing down the stone wall. “The swordswoman. No. 9, correct?”
“Ooohhh..” The chorister’s voice breaks. Her speech is muttering, gibbering nonsense, nonsensical words and phrases weakly slipping from her mouth between snivels. “..Father Wilhelm.. Where have you gone..? Emil.. M-my.. my sword, please.. No, Emil, you needn’t cry. Father Wilhelm will return.. A-and he’ll keep his promise, too.. Oh, Emil.. Where have you gone?”
“You’re wasting your time.” The dhampir rests against the wall behind you, arms folded and head lowered. “She was given inhuman regenerative ability, enough to prevent death no matter the injury. But the process is unimaginably painful–incomprehensible for humans–and it drove her mad long ago. She won’t understand you and you won’t understand her.”
“I see.” You glance back to the stone door, the swordswoman’s whispers crept up from under it, before you continue your walk along after your guide.
“You and the berserker can take advantage of this shrine. The doll and I will wait by the exit.” The dhampir murmurs, throwing up a hood and guising her features. “We’ll all leave when you come for us.”
You nary have time to ask why as she slips back and away from your side. The hall comes to a quick close and opens up to another vast room before you. The SHRINE here is unlike the others. It’s cleanly, with little dust nor ash to speak of. A number of implements hang from the walls and lay strewn across the ground–blades, knives, axes, cleavers, whips and crosses.. A number of monster hunting tools.
The vast majority here look to be MONSTER HUNTERS. You spot some of the AUF ARSENE from earlier–MILLICENT, too. You see a number of CHURCH CHORISTERS around as well, resplendent white garb and a sense of arrogance hang around them. A hooded figure chained to a wall, a number of GRAVE GOODS on a cloth lain out before him. And another, lone few figures–RESURRECTIONS, from the looks of it.
“Just a hodgepodge of stuck up assholes.” The berserker grunts at your side.
>Speak to the GRAVE GOOD merchant.>Speak to the AUF ARSENE.>Speak to the CHURCH CHORISTERS.>Speak to the RESURRECTIONIST.>Continue on. You needn’t waste time here.>Write-In. 