Copperheads: Betrayal and Strange Runes and Burning Dead, oh my (short update 02/12)
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arwink
Clockwork Golem
Tuesday, September 19th, 508 AF, Continued
Dust billows up as the Angel alights in the midst of the courtyard. It towers over Geoffrey, standing over twice the cleric’s six-foot frame, but it still manages to seem graceful as it kneels, sword forward in a gesture of respect. Geoffrey responds in kind, his brain quickly dredging up as much information on the courtesies of the shining host as it can after a night of good wine and revelry. It’s all he can do to keep his hands on his morning star as he holds it forward.
“GREETINGS, GEOFFREY CROMWELL, SERVANT OF ST CUTHBERT,” the Celestial booms. “I AM KNOWN AS CHEALRIOTH ON YOUR PLANE, WARRIOR OF THE SHINING HOST AND CHAMPION OF LADY CHANCE. IT IS GOOD TO MEET ANOTHER WARRIOR-SERVANT OF THE GODS IN A PLACE SUCH AS THIS.”
“The pleasure is mine, Chealrioth,” Geoffrey offers. He blinks a few moments as he attempts to gaze directly at the shining celestial. “Do you think, perhaps, you may dim your radiance long enough that we may speak with one another in the spirit of camaraderie. I am still mortal, for all the kinship we share in our devotion to our masters, and such light as yours is strong to mine eyes.”
In an instance, the radiance is dimmed to the light of a lantern rather than a blazing star. Geoffrey is forced to blink a few times as his eyes adjust to the gloom that settles over Bellhold once more. When his eyes can see once more without watering, he can make out the form of a green-skinned humanoid over fourteen feet tall, with white feathered wings that curl slightly around the celestials body as though it were embarrassed to be seen without its illumination.
“MY APOLOGIES,” Chealrioth says. “I AM NOT OFTEN REQUIRED TO SPEND TIME IN YOUR PLANE, AND YOUR WAYS REMAIN STRANGE TO ME.”
“No apology is needed,” Geoffrey says. “Is it not the nature of all but the gods to start without knowing everything. Understanding comes with time and experience.”
“INDEED,” Chealrioth says. A look of sudden consternation flashes across his face. “IT VEXES ME THAT I MUST ASK THIS, GEOFFREY CROMWELL, BUT I HAVE BEEN CHARGED WITH A GRAVE DUTY THAT MUST BE FULFILLED. CAN YOU SPEAK FOR THIS TOWN?”
“The people of this town are free,” Geoffrey says cautiously. “Few can speak for them, and I fear thy arrival has frightened those who would into hiding. They are but simple folk, content in their life and unknowing of the greater celestial mysteries. They presence is strange and startling to them, so I beg you hold them in no disrespect. In their absence, I will attempt to aid you in your duty.”
“THAT IS FAIR,” Chealrioth says. “THE MISTAKE IS MINE. ALL CREATURES ARE THEIR OWN, AND NONE SHOULD BE PERMITTED TO SPEAK FOR ALL. MY DUTY BLINDS ME SOMETIMES. IT HAS BEEN A LONG TASK, ONE THAT HAS KEPT ME FROM PRESSING TASKS ON MY HOME PLANE, AND I FEAR THE TIME ON YOUR WORLD HAS LEFT ME IMPATIENT.”
“I say again, no apology is needed,” Geoffrey says. His jaw starts to ache with the formalism of talking to the emerald angel, his brain with the desperate need to remember the correct protocol when addressing a greater celestial. “What is thy mission, Chealrioth, Warrior of the Shining Host?”
“I COME ON BEHALF OF THE LORD SIMON HUMAN-BORN, LORD OF KHEST AND FAVOURITE OF MY LADY OF CHANCE. THE HEART STONE OF ONE HE HOLDS DEAR, ONE FIDELITY OF KHEST, HAS GONE DARK AND THE YOUNG MAN’S SOUL IS LOST TO THE NETHERWORLD. MY TASK IS TO FIND FIDELITY’S REMAINS, TO PUNISH THOSE RESPONSIBLE FOR HIS DEATH , AND THEN TO RETURN WITH BEFORE RETURNING THEM TO MY SUMMONER.”
Geoffrey nods slowly in agreement, slowly placing the names in the angel’s explanation. Simon of Khest is a familiar name, a human-born hero of the Demon-stone wars who has outlived all other heroes by virtue of a reincarnation into elven form. The venerable cleric had served as advisor to the Lords of the Halark Coasts since the region joined the empire, and was known to be protective of the descendents of his former allies and comrades.
“I have spend many months in this town,” he announces, “and never have I heard the name Fidelity of Khest. Is it possible he travelled unknown, or that he hid his identity?”
Chealrioth nods.
“IT IS POSSIBLE. MANY TIMES THE LORDLING HAS FLED FROM MY LORDS PROTECTIVE GAZE, AND HE HAS LONG LEARNED TO HIDE HIS IDENTITY IF HE WISHES TO AVOID EASY PURSUIT.”
Chealrioth shifts slightly, his wings rustling slightly as he relaxes his stance a little. For a moment, it even looks as though the celestial is feeling sheepish.
“IT IS NOT,” He booms softly, “AN UNCOMMON OCCURRENCE. THE LORD FIDELITY FANCIES HIMSELF AN ADVENTURER IN THE VEIN OF HIS GRANDFATHER, BUT HE HAS NOT YET LEARNED THE FAVOUR OF MY LADY AS HIS GRANDSIRE ONCE DID.”
“Do you think, Noble Chealrioth, you could provide me with a description of the young Lord of Khest? Perhaps I may have seen him, but not penetrated his disguise.”
Chealrioth nods once, gesturing and summoning an image in the air. Geoffrey studies the illusion for a few moments. It is recognisably the face of Thrash, albeit with longer hair and lacking the vacant expression that settled in the young rangers eyes as he travelled with the Cleric.
“He is known to me, Chealrioth,” Geoffrey says. “He travelled for a time with my companions and myself, serving as a warrior against the evil that settled in a cave on yonder mountain. It is to my sorrow that I was present when he was slain, cut down by a horde of goblin warriors in an effort to save myself and my companions. May it please you to know that we have already extracted vengeance on his slayers for the death of our comrade, and that he rests beneath a cairn in the cave where he was slain.”
The emerald head of Chealrioth swings towards the caves, his eyes narrowing as though he can see through the very mountain stone to see the resting place of his quarry. His expression is grim, and his eyes blaze with fire as he turns back to Geoffrey.
“MY THANKS, GEOFFREY CROMWELL, FOR YOUR DIRECTIONS AND YOUR ACTIONS IN AVENGING THE FALLEN LORD. FORGIVE ME FOR MY IMPATIENCE, BUT I WILL COLLECT THE LORDS REMAINS DIRECTLY. MUCH TIME HAVE I SPENT TRACKING HIM, AND I LONG TO RETURN TO THE RADIANT LIGHT OF MY LADY. CONVEY MY APOLOGIES TO THE PEOPLE OF THIS TOWN, FOR I MEANT NOT TO FRIGHTEN THEM AS MUCH AS I DID.”
“The pleasure would be mine, Chealrioth,” Geoffrey says. From the back of his mind, the traditional farewell of Chealrioth’s goddess wells up. “Good journey and high favour, noble one.”
Chealrioth’s eyebrows raise in surprise as he lifts off the ground.
“GOOD JOURNEY AND HIGH FAVOUR, GEOFFREY CROMWELL. MAY WE MEET AGAIN.”
Wings beat against the air, creating a cloud of dust that seems to engulf the young Cuthbertite cleric. Within seconds, Chealrioth becomes a flare of light against the backdrop of the mountains. Already Geoffrey can see doors opening, heads peering out of windows as the townsfolk realise the angel is gone.
“Well,” Geoffrey mutters to himself. “That was invigorating.”
“Are you okay?” Tokket asks, emerging from the inn. Geoffrey shakes his head, holding forth a hand that trembles like a leaf.
“I think I need a strong drink.”
As he turns and walks towards the inn, the celestial comes bursting forth from the cave at the peak of Saddle Mountain. Although few can see it, Geoffrey knows the angel has Thrash’s corpse in his grip.
“LORD SIMON IS TRULY VEXED AT YOU, YOUNG MAN,” the celestial booms. If he says more, the sound in lost in the distance as it flies towards Khest.
Dust billows up as the Angel alights in the midst of the courtyard. It towers over Geoffrey, standing over twice the cleric’s six-foot frame, but it still manages to seem graceful as it kneels, sword forward in a gesture of respect. Geoffrey responds in kind, his brain quickly dredging up as much information on the courtesies of the shining host as it can after a night of good wine and revelry. It’s all he can do to keep his hands on his morning star as he holds it forward.
“GREETINGS, GEOFFREY CROMWELL, SERVANT OF ST CUTHBERT,” the Celestial booms. “I AM KNOWN AS CHEALRIOTH ON YOUR PLANE, WARRIOR OF THE SHINING HOST AND CHAMPION OF LADY CHANCE. IT IS GOOD TO MEET ANOTHER WARRIOR-SERVANT OF THE GODS IN A PLACE SUCH AS THIS.”
“The pleasure is mine, Chealrioth,” Geoffrey offers. He blinks a few moments as he attempts to gaze directly at the shining celestial. “Do you think, perhaps, you may dim your radiance long enough that we may speak with one another in the spirit of camaraderie. I am still mortal, for all the kinship we share in our devotion to our masters, and such light as yours is strong to mine eyes.”
In an instance, the radiance is dimmed to the light of a lantern rather than a blazing star. Geoffrey is forced to blink a few times as his eyes adjust to the gloom that settles over Bellhold once more. When his eyes can see once more without watering, he can make out the form of a green-skinned humanoid over fourteen feet tall, with white feathered wings that curl slightly around the celestials body as though it were embarrassed to be seen without its illumination.
“MY APOLOGIES,” Chealrioth says. “I AM NOT OFTEN REQUIRED TO SPEND TIME IN YOUR PLANE, AND YOUR WAYS REMAIN STRANGE TO ME.”
“No apology is needed,” Geoffrey says. “Is it not the nature of all but the gods to start without knowing everything. Understanding comes with time and experience.”
“INDEED,” Chealrioth says. A look of sudden consternation flashes across his face. “IT VEXES ME THAT I MUST ASK THIS, GEOFFREY CROMWELL, BUT I HAVE BEEN CHARGED WITH A GRAVE DUTY THAT MUST BE FULFILLED. CAN YOU SPEAK FOR THIS TOWN?”
“The people of this town are free,” Geoffrey says cautiously. “Few can speak for them, and I fear thy arrival has frightened those who would into hiding. They are but simple folk, content in their life and unknowing of the greater celestial mysteries. They presence is strange and startling to them, so I beg you hold them in no disrespect. In their absence, I will attempt to aid you in your duty.”
“THAT IS FAIR,” Chealrioth says. “THE MISTAKE IS MINE. ALL CREATURES ARE THEIR OWN, AND NONE SHOULD BE PERMITTED TO SPEAK FOR ALL. MY DUTY BLINDS ME SOMETIMES. IT HAS BEEN A LONG TASK, ONE THAT HAS KEPT ME FROM PRESSING TASKS ON MY HOME PLANE, AND I FEAR THE TIME ON YOUR WORLD HAS LEFT ME IMPATIENT.”
“I say again, no apology is needed,” Geoffrey says. His jaw starts to ache with the formalism of talking to the emerald angel, his brain with the desperate need to remember the correct protocol when addressing a greater celestial. “What is thy mission, Chealrioth, Warrior of the Shining Host?”
“I COME ON BEHALF OF THE LORD SIMON HUMAN-BORN, LORD OF KHEST AND FAVOURITE OF MY LADY OF CHANCE. THE HEART STONE OF ONE HE HOLDS DEAR, ONE FIDELITY OF KHEST, HAS GONE DARK AND THE YOUNG MAN’S SOUL IS LOST TO THE NETHERWORLD. MY TASK IS TO FIND FIDELITY’S REMAINS, TO PUNISH THOSE RESPONSIBLE FOR HIS DEATH , AND THEN TO RETURN WITH BEFORE RETURNING THEM TO MY SUMMONER.”
Geoffrey nods slowly in agreement, slowly placing the names in the angel’s explanation. Simon of Khest is a familiar name, a human-born hero of the Demon-stone wars who has outlived all other heroes by virtue of a reincarnation into elven form. The venerable cleric had served as advisor to the Lords of the Halark Coasts since the region joined the empire, and was known to be protective of the descendents of his former allies and comrades.
“I have spend many months in this town,” he announces, “and never have I heard the name Fidelity of Khest. Is it possible he travelled unknown, or that he hid his identity?”
Chealrioth nods.
“IT IS POSSIBLE. MANY TIMES THE LORDLING HAS FLED FROM MY LORDS PROTECTIVE GAZE, AND HE HAS LONG LEARNED TO HIDE HIS IDENTITY IF HE WISHES TO AVOID EASY PURSUIT.”
Chealrioth shifts slightly, his wings rustling slightly as he relaxes his stance a little. For a moment, it even looks as though the celestial is feeling sheepish.
“IT IS NOT,” He booms softly, “AN UNCOMMON OCCURRENCE. THE LORD FIDELITY FANCIES HIMSELF AN ADVENTURER IN THE VEIN OF HIS GRANDFATHER, BUT HE HAS NOT YET LEARNED THE FAVOUR OF MY LADY AS HIS GRANDSIRE ONCE DID.”
“Do you think, Noble Chealrioth, you could provide me with a description of the young Lord of Khest? Perhaps I may have seen him, but not penetrated his disguise.”
Chealrioth nods once, gesturing and summoning an image in the air. Geoffrey studies the illusion for a few moments. It is recognisably the face of Thrash, albeit with longer hair and lacking the vacant expression that settled in the young rangers eyes as he travelled with the Cleric.
“He is known to me, Chealrioth,” Geoffrey says. “He travelled for a time with my companions and myself, serving as a warrior against the evil that settled in a cave on yonder mountain. It is to my sorrow that I was present when he was slain, cut down by a horde of goblin warriors in an effort to save myself and my companions. May it please you to know that we have already extracted vengeance on his slayers for the death of our comrade, and that he rests beneath a cairn in the cave where he was slain.”
The emerald head of Chealrioth swings towards the caves, his eyes narrowing as though he can see through the very mountain stone to see the resting place of his quarry. His expression is grim, and his eyes blaze with fire as he turns back to Geoffrey.
“MY THANKS, GEOFFREY CROMWELL, FOR YOUR DIRECTIONS AND YOUR ACTIONS IN AVENGING THE FALLEN LORD. FORGIVE ME FOR MY IMPATIENCE, BUT I WILL COLLECT THE LORDS REMAINS DIRECTLY. MUCH TIME HAVE I SPENT TRACKING HIM, AND I LONG TO RETURN TO THE RADIANT LIGHT OF MY LADY. CONVEY MY APOLOGIES TO THE PEOPLE OF THIS TOWN, FOR I MEANT NOT TO FRIGHTEN THEM AS MUCH AS I DID.”
“The pleasure would be mine, Chealrioth,” Geoffrey says. From the back of his mind, the traditional farewell of Chealrioth’s goddess wells up. “Good journey and high favour, noble one.”
Chealrioth’s eyebrows raise in surprise as he lifts off the ground.
“GOOD JOURNEY AND HIGH FAVOUR, GEOFFREY CROMWELL. MAY WE MEET AGAIN.”
Wings beat against the air, creating a cloud of dust that seems to engulf the young Cuthbertite cleric. Within seconds, Chealrioth becomes a flare of light against the backdrop of the mountains. Already Geoffrey can see doors opening, heads peering out of windows as the townsfolk realise the angel is gone.
“Well,” Geoffrey mutters to himself. “That was invigorating.”
“Are you okay?” Tokket asks, emerging from the inn. Geoffrey shakes his head, holding forth a hand that trembles like a leaf.
“I think I need a strong drink.”
As he turns and walks towards the inn, the celestial comes bursting forth from the cave at the peak of Saddle Mountain. Although few can see it, Geoffrey knows the angel has Thrash’s corpse in his grip.
“LORD SIMON IS TRULY VEXED AT YOU, YOUNG MAN,” the celestial booms. If he says more, the sound in lost in the distance as it flies towards Khest.
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Mathew_Freeman
Adventurer
Sorely vexed, indeed.
Great stuff, mate!
Great stuff, mate!
arwink
Clockwork Golem
I'm going to try to get a last update done before the weekend's gaming starts, but they'll be a bit scarce for the next two or three weeks due to assignment marking.
In place of todays update, I'll offer instead some background notes to the last update:
Simon Human-born and the Demon-stone war mentioned in the last update are basically references to the first 3e campaign i ran, in which Khynal, Durhon and Yip were all players. I didn't want to make a huge amount of references to that campaign, largely because Capellan and Geoffrey didn't join the group until very recently, but I did want to have it floating around in the background so the players who were there had a sense of continuity.
Simon was Khynal's PC, a cleric of the luck goddess that was probably one of the most reasonable, sobre and generally level-headed people you could ever hope to meet. Even after a series of reincarnations had transformed him into a gnoll, and later an elf.
I think, eventually, the guards at his temple just let anyone in who claimed to be Simon as long as they didn't look human. That was how often he'd head off to adventure, and come home looking completely different. He's now an Ancient Elf with Epic levels, a nominal leader of the region but largely leaving the job to the family of his two comrades in arms. He's currently an epic level cleric, and busies himself with keeping the Khest line safe and preventing numerous wizards and idiots around the empire from finding and experimenting with chunks of demonstone. It's a full time job.
Thrash/Fidelity's Grandsire was a Wild Elf Barbarian named Justice (Played by Yip), who later got turned into a human. Bad luck all round, and he's at least two hundred years dead by the time the Copperheads game starts. His family is primarily human or half-elven (he was a tad indescriminate in his conquests), and all of them are primarily long lived regardles of race. It's largely thought that Justice is hanging in Valhala.
The last character from the game, the rogue/wizard Drakius, dissappeared not long after the war was over, leaving his wife and children to run things in his place. no-one knows exactly where Drakius went, but he had put together a small task force of wizard/rogues to help him collect and store evil artifacts to ensure they weren't used against the kingdom as they were in the Demonstone war. It's thought that he succeeded, to some extent, but he's been MIA for over a hundred and fifty years.
In the next update: News about heading north, Blarth abandoning his responsibilities and Yip getting beaten up by dagger-wielding rat-fairies.
In place of todays update, I'll offer instead some background notes to the last update:
Simon Human-born and the Demon-stone war mentioned in the last update are basically references to the first 3e campaign i ran, in which Khynal, Durhon and Yip were all players. I didn't want to make a huge amount of references to that campaign, largely because Capellan and Geoffrey didn't join the group until very recently, but I did want to have it floating around in the background so the players who were there had a sense of continuity.
Simon was Khynal's PC, a cleric of the luck goddess that was probably one of the most reasonable, sobre and generally level-headed people you could ever hope to meet. Even after a series of reincarnations had transformed him into a gnoll, and later an elf.
I think, eventually, the guards at his temple just let anyone in who claimed to be Simon as long as they didn't look human. That was how often he'd head off to adventure, and come home looking completely different. He's now an Ancient Elf with Epic levels, a nominal leader of the region but largely leaving the job to the family of his two comrades in arms. He's currently an epic level cleric, and busies himself with keeping the Khest line safe and preventing numerous wizards and idiots around the empire from finding and experimenting with chunks of demonstone. It's a full time job.
Thrash/Fidelity's Grandsire was a Wild Elf Barbarian named Justice (Played by Yip), who later got turned into a human. Bad luck all round, and he's at least two hundred years dead by the time the Copperheads game starts. His family is primarily human or half-elven (he was a tad indescriminate in his conquests), and all of them are primarily long lived regardles of race. It's largely thought that Justice is hanging in Valhala.
The last character from the game, the rogue/wizard Drakius, dissappeared not long after the war was over, leaving his wife and children to run things in his place. no-one knows exactly where Drakius went, but he had put together a small task force of wizard/rogues to help him collect and store evil artifacts to ensure they weren't used against the kingdom as they were in the Demonstone war. It's thought that he succeeded, to some extent, but he's been MIA for over a hundred and fifty years.
In the next update: News about heading north, Blarth abandoning his responsibilities and Yip getting beaten up by dagger-wielding rat-fairies.
Last edited:
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