Copperheads: Betrayal and Strange Runes and Burning Dead, oh my (short update 02/12)

[Peterson]

“Damn,” Halgo thinks, eyeing the runes that float over Amarin’s head. “Those are draconic.”

Then Amarin falls to the ground, limp and bleeding from his noise. From down the corridor a deep voice chuckles.

“FREEEEEEEEEE!”

Heheheh. Excellent.

Another great update. Nicely wrote and update? (Impatient? Me? Nah....)

Peterson

 

[Graywolf-ELM]

Then Amarin falls to the ground, limp and bleeding from his noise. From down the corridor a deep voice chuckles.

“FREEEEEEEEEE!”

I think that falls under the old dungeoneering category of "OOPS."

GW

 

[Khynal]

Hooray! The Story Hour is getting updated again.

 

[The Padre]

As the player of Geoffrey Cromwell I just wanted to say after rereading a few of our old adventures I really wish the Copperheads was still running. Maybe after two of our esteemed members return from their international galavanting the game will return. I hope so. In any case, Arwink, keep up the good work of bringing back the memories

A note to the unwary though, do NOT trust Halgo. I think the Copperheads exist sometimes only because Halgo has a use for us. If that were ever to change, we would all be lost......

Dave
aka Geoff

 

[Khynal]

A note to the unwary though, do NOT trust Halgo. I think the Copperheads exist sometimes only because Halgo has a use for us. If that were ever to change, we would all be lost......

Now, now, he's just goal oriented.

 

[Capellan]

Have you ever stopped to think that maybe he's just sneaky and conniving because you treat him like he is?

Poor, misunderstood Halgo. Does someone a huge favour, and all he gets is suspicion ...

 

[Peterson]

Actually, you just need people to keep bumping the storyhour out of obscurity right about the time my net connection gets repaired (after nearly five weeks of spotty access so far). Then the guilt of not-updating just gets to me

How about two weeks later? Cause this is one of them "bumps".

Peterson

 

[Sheltem]

And this also is another


BUMP!

 

[arwink]

Yep, the bumps work. At least, they work when I see them. I really should subscribe to the thread again if the e-mail notification has been reactivated.

Good news: I found my notes for these sessions, so I'm no longer flying blind.
Bad news: The last two weeks has been kind of hectic.

I've got a short update ready to go, will try and get a longer one ready to post by the end of the weekend.

 

[arwink]

The corridor seems to stretch on forever, winding backwards and forwards towards the deep breathing of something LARGE and HEAVY in the distance. Amarin is barely conscious, stumbling forward on pure instinct and following the mental tug of his psi-crystal. Everyone else is on edge, weapons out, the bad feeling of impending doom settling into the pit of their stomach.

They make a long list of things they really don’t want to be at the other end of the tunnel as they walk. An elder dragon. One of the major demons. Elementals. Halgo exhausts his thorough knowledge of planes lore and the kinds of creatures that are commonly bound, trying to prepare the others for what they could find.

“Maybe it go?” Blarth mentions hopefully at one points.

Amarin burbles a few times, and everyone can make out something about the psi-crystal being carried in the chaos of words.

They feel the heat just before they find the stairs, a moist warmth that feels like they just stepped into a sauna. There’s a complex pattern of runes at the bottom of the stairs, still glowing from the last shreds of power running through them. Halgo and Geoffrey both identify them immediately as the building blocks of soul magic – a living spell born when a creature sacrifices part of its own essence to give it life.

Cautiously they climb the stairs, moving as warily as they can to avoid sudden ambush. Up the stairs and into the chamber, heat rising as they climb. There are the shattered pieces of ice scattered down the stair well, quickly melting into nothingness. Halgo looks at it, judges the temperature in the air, and immediately figures that it probably originates from the para-elemental plane. That doesn’t, he thinks to himself, bode well.

They reach the top of the stair.

The creature that waits for them is squatted in the shattered remains of an icicle, an aura of black and red flames flickering over its skin. It looks like a giant orc, topping twelve feet in its crouched position, but the face is both more savage and more noble than any orc the group has seen. Iron tusks loom from an oversized mouth. Skin the color of burnished bronzewood. It burns constantly, scalding the stone ceiling. Steam and mist rise to the roof, gathering in a slow drip of condensation. It rolls the psi-crystal across the back of one hand, mammoth muscles rippling beneath the polished sheen of its skin.

Baleful eyes fix on Amarin, and the cruel mouth opens into a gleeful grin.

“GREETINGS LITTLE KEY,” the creatures voice rumbles, echoing through the cave. “HOW GOOD OF YOU TO COME.”