Mathew_Freeman
Adventurer
OK, game details please! Just how badly did that go? 
Copperheads: Betrayal and Strange Runes and Burning Dead, oh my (short update 02/12)
- Thread starter arwink
- Start date
arwink
Clockwork Golem
Tallarn said:OK, game details please! Just how badly did that go?
On the whole, badly. I don't have exact notes on how badly, but I'll give you a rough idea.
For starters, Murkad is a ranger with favored enemy- humans, so he had bonuses to damage and sense-motive rolls there. His level of distrust for the situation, coupled with Geoffrey's not terribly high Bluff score, meant he was fairly sure they were going to pull something.
When it came to the hitting, Murkad had the phenomenally high strength you'd expect from a half-orc, with a potion of bulls strength on top of that. I don't think I critted, but I do remember Murkad did max-damage with both strikes. His feat list basically read: Quick Draw, Exotic WEapon Proficiency (Double Axe), Ambidexterity, Two Weapon Fighting.
Everyone watched the half-orc take something like 12 points of damage from Geoffrey's hit, then watched Geoffrey take twenty or thirty points in retaliation. At the time, Geoffrey was the healthiest person in the group, so all of a sudden they weren't big on continuing the ambush. At this point everyone was still 4th or 5th level, so they were feeling kind of fragile
Strangely, I was more or less expecting Murkad to die. And I keep expecting Murkad to die every time I use him in an adventure, but somehow or another he doesn't. One of those strange rules of DMing - the NPC's you put in as background color and cannon foder are always the ones to survive.
Edit: and I've just noticed that this points me at the half-way point of the story to date. W00T!
Last edited:
arwink
Clockwork Golem
Murkad leaves, his treasure is recovered, and his healing potions are applied to Geoffrey to ensure the head-wounds don’t lead to his death. The first potion barely brings colour back to the wounded clerics face, but the second is enough to return him to consciousness.
“Did we get him?” he asks.
“No, not in the slightest,” Halgo says cheerfully. “But if it makes you feel better, the healing potions he promised us for safe passage are what’s keeping you alive at the moment.”
“He still gave them to you after a fight?” Geoffrey asks, still a little slow on the uptake.
“Sure,” Halgo says agreeably. “If by fight you mean apologised for your rash behaviour and showed him the door. You were our best bet for taking him down, Geof. We saw how fast you fell and reassessed the situation. I’m sure you would have done the same thing were you not face down on the floor and bleeding to death at the time.”
The dwarf’s irony is lost on Geoffrey as he sinks back into unconsciousness. That, or he’s feigning the condition in order to avoid being further disgusted by his companion’s lack of loyalty to his plan.
“He’s going to be cheerful when he feels better,” Brind comments.
“I’m sure he’ll forgive us,” Halgo says blithely. “After all, we did get the gold and we will promise to help him take Murkad down next time we meet.”
“You think there will be a next time.”
Halgo looks at the white scar starting to form on Geoffrey’s brow.
“I’m almost sure of it.”
There’s a slight pause as both men consider their situation for a moment.
“Weren’t we here looking for some elves?” Brind asks.
“Swords, apparently,” Halgo explains. “Tainted steel. Carried by elves.”
“We’re giving up on that?”
Halgo points towards the rubble-filled passageway that leads to the goblin-kings lair.
“I figure it’s that way,” he says. “You want to start digging? We found the sword used by the Lords of the Steading – that should count as a win for now. If someone goes to the effort of excavating a crudely constructed, mineral free goblin caves in order to get a cursed sword that’s not even magic, I figure they deserve it.”
Brind considers this for a few minutes.
“Yeah,” he says. “You’re probably right.”
The evening is spent in the caves, nursing the group’s wounds and making sure Geoffrey will be ready to travel the following day. Everyone tries to sleep, but no one rests easy with the thought that Murkad may return to slit through throats in the night. The next morning Geoffrey is fully conscious and relatively lucid, albeit tinged with a wounded sense of betrayal every time someone tries to talk to him. After a quick breakfast of dry rations, the group sets about making the long climb back to the surface. Yip and Amarin scout the tunnel leading upwards with the aid of a spider-climb, reporting that its nearly two hundred feet of winding rock, a risky climb for an reasonably strong commoner, but near fatal for the wounded Geoffrey and Brind in their armour. With numerous complaints the pair remove their armour and start to climb up the ropes secured by Yip on the rocky outcroppings. It takes the better part of a few hours, but eventually they reach the surface and haul their gear and armour up after them.
The journey back to the Steading is uneventful, although Geoffrey is constantly distracted by divots in the ground that may be half-orc tracks. Their arrival is low-key, barely acknowledged by anyone other than Teag. This lasts all of an hour, before Halgo returns the ancestral blade of the Ulgar’s to the lord of the Steading, and the group is suddenly the focus of a great feast and a few thousand gold coins reward. For all the extravagance Heiron Ulgar attempts to heap upon them, the Steading is a military outpost where luxuries are rare. The group dallies for a few days in the name of politeness, but soon hurries back to the town of Bor where the gratitude of the king lets them live a lifestyle of a slightly higher calibre.
Weeks are spent training and item crafting in the luxury of the kings guest house, and no-one chooses to notice the slow creep of time leading into winter. Yip learns more of the warrior’s craft from Brind before the mercenary heads north to the Steading once more, while Halgo spends his days poring over a spell book, honing his skills with magic. Geoffrey finds precious little time to work on his skills, quickly finding himself pressed into dull clerical work at the temple by the High Justicar, chasing minor criminals and passing judgements over neighbourhood disputes. Despite showing a public face of gratitude to Geoffrey for easing the tension caused by the conflict with the crown, it’s obvious that Cammar has little intention of forgetting or forgiving having his will defied.
The person who is kept most busy, however, is Amarin. The young psion spends his days travelling through the town, gathering stories and information about the cold and attempting to aid those most harmed by the business with the swords. He tracks down Malden and gives him a well-crafted dagger taken from the goblin caves in order to help get his forging business re-started, and when it becomes obvious that the young man has only the most rudimentary of forging skills the psion gets him a job in one of Teag’s warehouses as a quartermaster. There Malden proves to have a better head for figures than he does skill with the forge, and settles into a comforting career. By night, Amarin tries to hone his psionic powers, stretching them in new directions that he’s rarely considered in his sedentary scholars lifestyle. Many of his attempts are failures, but there are enough positive results that he thinks he could master new powers in the very near future.
All in all, time passes easily. There are few incidences of violence, beyond an unfortunate incident at the Church when a visiting Amarin tries to study some of the other Yips and has to be rescued from the horde of furious kobolds that descended upon him. It isn’t until the bulk of their work in town is done that someone notices the shorter days and cold chill of late autumn in the air, and the question of where to spend the winter comes up. They have nothing but warnings to go on when making the decisions, but they take it on faith when they are told that travel during mid-winter is risky at best – the snowstorms are fierce and the long nights bring humanoid creatures of all kinds out of the mountains. Any settlement in Bor would be pleased to host the heroes, paying them for their services over the winter months if only they would agree to stay and fight alongside the militia when raids occur. The possibility of sailing back to the Empire is raised, but quickly over-ruled – boats leaving during the late burn of autumn are rare, and the voyage is treacherous to say the least.
In the end, only one choice truly seems to be open to the group should they wish to spend winter in anything remotely resembling comfort.
“Thorbeck,” Halgo suggests, and everyone is quick to agree.
“Did we get him?” he asks.
“No, not in the slightest,” Halgo says cheerfully. “But if it makes you feel better, the healing potions he promised us for safe passage are what’s keeping you alive at the moment.”
“He still gave them to you after a fight?” Geoffrey asks, still a little slow on the uptake.
“Sure,” Halgo says agreeably. “If by fight you mean apologised for your rash behaviour and showed him the door. You were our best bet for taking him down, Geof. We saw how fast you fell and reassessed the situation. I’m sure you would have done the same thing were you not face down on the floor and bleeding to death at the time.”
The dwarf’s irony is lost on Geoffrey as he sinks back into unconsciousness. That, or he’s feigning the condition in order to avoid being further disgusted by his companion’s lack of loyalty to his plan.
“He’s going to be cheerful when he feels better,” Brind comments.
“I’m sure he’ll forgive us,” Halgo says blithely. “After all, we did get the gold and we will promise to help him take Murkad down next time we meet.”
“You think there will be a next time.”
Halgo looks at the white scar starting to form on Geoffrey’s brow.
“I’m almost sure of it.”
There’s a slight pause as both men consider their situation for a moment.
“Weren’t we here looking for some elves?” Brind asks.
“Swords, apparently,” Halgo explains. “Tainted steel. Carried by elves.”
“We’re giving up on that?”
Halgo points towards the rubble-filled passageway that leads to the goblin-kings lair.
“I figure it’s that way,” he says. “You want to start digging? We found the sword used by the Lords of the Steading – that should count as a win for now. If someone goes to the effort of excavating a crudely constructed, mineral free goblin caves in order to get a cursed sword that’s not even magic, I figure they deserve it.”
Brind considers this for a few minutes.
“Yeah,” he says. “You’re probably right.”
The evening is spent in the caves, nursing the group’s wounds and making sure Geoffrey will be ready to travel the following day. Everyone tries to sleep, but no one rests easy with the thought that Murkad may return to slit through throats in the night. The next morning Geoffrey is fully conscious and relatively lucid, albeit tinged with a wounded sense of betrayal every time someone tries to talk to him. After a quick breakfast of dry rations, the group sets about making the long climb back to the surface. Yip and Amarin scout the tunnel leading upwards with the aid of a spider-climb, reporting that its nearly two hundred feet of winding rock, a risky climb for an reasonably strong commoner, but near fatal for the wounded Geoffrey and Brind in their armour. With numerous complaints the pair remove their armour and start to climb up the ropes secured by Yip on the rocky outcroppings. It takes the better part of a few hours, but eventually they reach the surface and haul their gear and armour up after them.
The journey back to the Steading is uneventful, although Geoffrey is constantly distracted by divots in the ground that may be half-orc tracks. Their arrival is low-key, barely acknowledged by anyone other than Teag. This lasts all of an hour, before Halgo returns the ancestral blade of the Ulgar’s to the lord of the Steading, and the group is suddenly the focus of a great feast and a few thousand gold coins reward. For all the extravagance Heiron Ulgar attempts to heap upon them, the Steading is a military outpost where luxuries are rare. The group dallies for a few days in the name of politeness, but soon hurries back to the town of Bor where the gratitude of the king lets them live a lifestyle of a slightly higher calibre.
Weeks are spent training and item crafting in the luxury of the kings guest house, and no-one chooses to notice the slow creep of time leading into winter. Yip learns more of the warrior’s craft from Brind before the mercenary heads north to the Steading once more, while Halgo spends his days poring over a spell book, honing his skills with magic. Geoffrey finds precious little time to work on his skills, quickly finding himself pressed into dull clerical work at the temple by the High Justicar, chasing minor criminals and passing judgements over neighbourhood disputes. Despite showing a public face of gratitude to Geoffrey for easing the tension caused by the conflict with the crown, it’s obvious that Cammar has little intention of forgetting or forgiving having his will defied.
The person who is kept most busy, however, is Amarin. The young psion spends his days travelling through the town, gathering stories and information about the cold and attempting to aid those most harmed by the business with the swords. He tracks down Malden and gives him a well-crafted dagger taken from the goblin caves in order to help get his forging business re-started, and when it becomes obvious that the young man has only the most rudimentary of forging skills the psion gets him a job in one of Teag’s warehouses as a quartermaster. There Malden proves to have a better head for figures than he does skill with the forge, and settles into a comforting career. By night, Amarin tries to hone his psionic powers, stretching them in new directions that he’s rarely considered in his sedentary scholars lifestyle. Many of his attempts are failures, but there are enough positive results that he thinks he could master new powers in the very near future.
All in all, time passes easily. There are few incidences of violence, beyond an unfortunate incident at the Church when a visiting Amarin tries to study some of the other Yips and has to be rescued from the horde of furious kobolds that descended upon him. It isn’t until the bulk of their work in town is done that someone notices the shorter days and cold chill of late autumn in the air, and the question of where to spend the winter comes up. They have nothing but warnings to go on when making the decisions, but they take it on faith when they are told that travel during mid-winter is risky at best – the snowstorms are fierce and the long nights bring humanoid creatures of all kinds out of the mountains. Any settlement in Bor would be pleased to host the heroes, paying them for their services over the winter months if only they would agree to stay and fight alongside the militia when raids occur. The possibility of sailing back to the Empire is raised, but quickly over-ruled – boats leaving during the late burn of autumn are rare, and the voyage is treacherous to say the least.
In the end, only one choice truly seems to be open to the group should they wish to spend winter in anything remotely resembling comfort.
“Thorbeck,” Halgo suggests, and everyone is quick to agree.
arwink said:Everyone watched the half-orc take something like 12 points of damage from Geoffrey's hit, then watched Geoffrey take twenty or thirty points in retaliation. At the time, Geoffrey was the healthiest person in the group, so all of a sudden they weren't big on continuing the ambush. At this point everyone was still 4th or 5th level, so they were feeling kind of fragile
This is what you get when you follow a lawful neutral god and you break your word. And, of course, he'll never live it down.
Similar Threads
