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

[arwink]

They ride into Borr to a hero’s welcome, the people of the small city yelling congratulations and thanks as the Copperheads pass through on their way to the palace. Already there’s a small number of warriors walking around wearing dwarf-steel weapons, and there are Thorbeck dwarves selling their wares in the town market. While everyone is acutely aware that the alliance hasn’t made the fledgling kingdom safe, they are at least safer than they were several months ago. The people have hope, even though they’d not truly realised it was missing.

The group is taken directly to the King’s Hall. Gunnar is already there, dressed in a velvet doublet and leaning against the wall just outside the King’s Table.

“I’ve been paid to act as the kings tracker,” he announces without noticeable enthusiasm. “Not much of a job, but the retainers good.”

Before anyone can ask a question, Oleg and his advisor can be heard arguing through the door.

“I know what you want to do to them, Cammar,” Oleg’s voice booms, “But the kingdom isn’t in a position to punish them. Our position is tenuous, and whether you like it or not One-Eye and his band are essential for our survival. Alienate them, force them from these shores, and many of the outlying settlements will die.”

“Death is a part of life, your majesty,” Cammar’s voice replies calmly. “But Justice is eternal. The three of them have killed, murdered, and they will die for their crimes. It is the emperors law, not mine, but I will enforce it. You have your alliance now, an alliance forged with my people I remind you. You no longer need to rely on rabble such as these mercenaries.”

“Rabble?” A third voice wheezes. “One-eye and his band are Reldanfolk born, warriors and soldiers of skill and daring. You insult them, myself and all Reldenners by calling them rabble and mercenaries.”

“Do I?” Cammar asks blandly. “How careless of me.”

“Enough,” Oleg orders. “I have guests…no, I have heroes to greet. We will continue this conversation later, when the two of you have had time enough to calm down.”

There is a murmur of consent, and within a moment High Justicar Cammar and the stooped form of the settlements War Priest both exit the room. Cammar catches Geoffrey’s eye and nods curtly, subtly letting the cleric know that an immediate report will be expected the moment he’s freed from the King’s presence.

“Enter,” Oleg calls, and everyone filters into the room. Oleg stands at the head of his table, his lean framed stooped slightly as his legs rest against the tables edge.

“It is good to see you all once more,” Oleg says, and although his voice retains its usual direct tone there is a note of trepidation there. “The four of you have done all that was asked of you and more, giving more hope to my kingdom than it has ever had. You have my gratitude, and my eternal thanks. Know that from this point on, all of you will be regarded as true friends of Borr. Your time in the city shall be taken care on, indeed you are welcome to share the hospitality of my guest lodge should you wish it. While you stay with us, you will be treated as well as any imperial noble.”

Oleg permits himself a wry smile, and claps his hands twice.

“Beginning right now,” he says warmly. Within seconds the table is covered by all manor of food, the best that Borr has to offer. Robed servants hurry about the room, filling wine glasses and ale mugs with silent enthusiasm.

“Let us eat,” Oleg says grandly. “And you can tell me all you can of your adventures...”

They talk, they eat, and through it all everyone can sense the undercurrent of worry that’s gnawing at the king. Well, almost everyone. Blarth seems strangely oblivious to the subtleties of the situation, and it’s possible Yip is far to drunk to comprehend, but the others are slightly more aware. Even worse, they can sense that another royal request is coming.

Sure enough, at the end of the meal Oleg stands and regards them all gravely.

“My thanks for you service,” he says simply. “And my regret of asking you for more help so soon after your return, but I need the kind of aid that only men of your kind can provide…”

 

[Mathew_Freeman]

It's always the way. No-one in command in fantasy settings can ever resist the temptation to offer you more work.

 

[Lela]

The respite can only be brief. Afterall, they're famous now.

 

[Dungannon]

I just hope there're no gravy stains on Geoffrey's report.

 

[Graywolf-ELM]

It took me a couple of days to read through all 19 pages of posts, but I finally caught up. I like the story form you've put the sessions in.

Question? Did they use the magical earring during the games for passing commands, or did the new guy up on the goalposts not know about it?

Thanks for the enjoyable read.

 

[arwink]

The group is, indeed, famous within Borr's boundaries. To make matters worse, when I ran the numbers on the country, the Copperheads are one of only a dozen or so characters higher than 4th level and the only group of such characters (the others rule towns, run a mercenary company,work independently for the king or serve as High Priest of Arezz or the High Justicar).

And, to be honest, I figured that if you want to go adventure in a gods-forsaken frozen wasteland with a total population the size of a single large town back in the empire, you get used to being asked to undertake new adventures constantly with little chance of pay. If you want to get rich the conventional way, you stay in the empire and kill people for money

Question? Did they use the magical earring during the games for passing commands, or did the new guy up on the goalposts not know about it?

Thanks for the enjoyable read.

Great to have you aboard.

The earring gets slightly more use than I mention in the storyhour, mostly when Blarth is seperated from the group. It's generally agreed that I'll just submerge the buzz of it into the background unless someone says something important about Blarth.

Mostly, for the match, they relied on the time-honored sporting tradition of shouting at one another. Blarth may have heard them a little more clearly through the confusion, but mostly they didn't worry to much about secrecy.

 

[arwink]

Cammar Vengallar chews his mutton slowly, glaring at the door. The two kobolds that stand on either side of the portal hold themselves at stiff attention, unwilling to meet the aging clerics steely stare. Vengallar barely notices his guard’s rigid nervousness. He reaches a gauntleted hand out and snatched the mug of dirty Reldannar wine, swills it over his palate.

It’s been three hours. Why hasn’t Cromwell reported.

The High Justicar of Borr tries to force such thoughts from his mind, spears another slither of mutton on the end of his fork and tears it free with his teeth. He gains a small measure of satisfaction as he scrapes the metal of the form along his lip, feels the points’ slowly teasing the thin skin. Geoffrey is a soldier of the church, a warrior and a justicar that had served with distinction in his novitiate. The unruly nature of his companions, the strange reports the other kobolds made about his Brother of the Fist, none of these were necessarily the clerics fault.

Cammar Vengallar twisted free a chunk of bred and soaked it in the watery stew. The heavy sound of gauntlet against door echoed just as he forced the sodden lump into his mouth. He swallowed quickly and glared at the portal once more.

“Justicar Cromwell, ready to report,” the voice on the other side announced. Cammar permitted himself a brief smile.

“Enter.”

Cromwell strode into the hall, the Drakkarite on his heels. Both men held themselves at rigid attention as the High Justicar watched them.

“I take it your mission for the king was a success.”

“Sir,” Cromwell said.

“Report,” Cammar ordered. “Tell me anything that may be of use.”

Cromwell speaks, running through the group’s actions with military precision. Cammar returns to his food, eating slowly as he listens. Most of the events are fairly mundane, the kind of danger and combat any justicar faces in the wild. It isn’t until Cromwell begins to speak of Thorbeck, and the acquisition of the Charosian citizen that had followed them back to civilization, that the High Justicar gives them his full attention.

“You say that you were paid to protect the psion?” He asks. Cromwell nods cautiously, and for a moment Cammar thinks he can see a flash of fear in his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Was the trade worthwhile?”
“Merchant give us scroll,” Blarth announces eagerly. “Bring us back from dead.”

The flash of fear behind Cromwell’s eyes is replaced by a look of anger. Cammar Vengallar permits himself to arch an eyebrow and looks to Cromwell in surprise.

“Let me see it,” Cammar orders. With a wary look, Cromwell digs through his pack and produces the roll of vellum. Cammar unfurls it and scans the sigils written there. They are jagged and harsh to look at, obviously the work of a crude culture. Even worse, the texture of the parchment seems strangely odd. The High Justicar pulls one hand free from its gauntlet and runs it over the scroll.

“Are you aware of what this is written on?” He asks.
“I thought leather,” Cromwell replies, but the look in his eyes reveals that he’s not entirely sure that’s true.
“That’s human skin, Justicar,” Cammar announces sternly. “And those runes are like nothing I’ve seen forged by human hand. I’m holding onto this for the moment – it will be returned to you once its origins are ascertained and I’m assured that it contains no lingering evil.”

“Agreed, sir,” Cromwell announces. His blue eyes blaze with carefully held anger, the kind of emotion that would almost be imperceptible to anyone who hadn’t spent their life learning to read the most subtle cues. Cammar smiles to himself. The rage would be good for the young Justicar, give him the strength to get the job done. He nods at the young cleric to continue and soaks in all he can about the dwarven kingdom.

“Very well,” Cammar says. “Now tell me about the meeting you just had with the King. Word for word, I wish to know what was said…”

 

[arwink]

And just as I was getting back into the swing of daily updates, I swan into the thread to announce that it'll be at least a week until the next one. Long Weekend in Oz this weekend, so I'm heading south with Capellan and Geoffrey's character for a Con.

But, given that we've finally covered all the "Coming Up" events that I'd announced way back on page seven or so of this thread, I'll leave you with some of the high-lights of the upcoming updates.

Coming up, we've got:

• Low-down skullduggery at the city forge

• Yip killing something three times his size all by himself

• Some Very Angry Goblins

• An Even Angrier Half-orc

• And the Tomb of a Dead God.

Although first we'll find out exactly what they were asked to do at the King's Dinner

 

[Lela]

Go YIP!

 

[Agent Yip]

Alas, I can't recall Yip's old password and have no response. Thus, Yip's been promoted, donned a black suit, sunnies and an earpiece.

You're slowly catching up there Arwink. We'll have to try harder now.