Copperheads: Betrayal and Strange Runes and Burning Dead, oh my (short update 02/12)
- Thread starter arwink
- Start date
Black_Kaioshin
First Post
Wow! Great game you have there. I've been lurking in the shadows for a while now, but I felt that I should finally speak.
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
arwink
Clockwork Golem
“This is interesting,” Amarin says, staring at the great adamantine door. “There’s faint traces of power in the metal. That’s not supposed to be possible – usually psions just store it in crystals.”
His eyes glow with a rainbow sheen as he examines it in detail, the telltale sign that he’s searching for traces of psionic energy imbued in the portal. Everyone else just nods, standing a little further back from the god-forged doorway while Halgo and Geoffrey are debating the meaning of various runes inscribed across its length.
Even with the potions to assist with the march, people are tired. The dwarven soldiers maintained a brisk pace, and pushed some of the weaker members past their normal capacity of endurance, but despite the lack of sleep and the hard march the Copperheads are still awake and relatively healthy. Even Amarin, easily the member who felt the exertion the most, perked up to his normal self when he saw the imposing sight of the doorway to Durkannan’s Shame – a shining disk that stands over five men high, with glowing runes running along its length. Everyone else gave the door a wide berth while divination magic’s were used upon it, but the Charosian scholar quickly ambled up for a closer look.
“Do you see any sign of defensive powers imbued?” Halgo asks. Amarin just shrugs.
“Nowhere near that kind of power,” he says. He walks back over to his companions, notebook in hand. “And there isn’t anything particularly dangerous about what I’m registering. Mostly seems to be related to the doors ability to open and close.”
“The runes say the same thing,” Geoffrey says. His head hurts as he tries to remember the meanings of the hundreds of small inscriptions, but his training serves him well. “Most of them will only react to the power of the gods, so everything more or less agrees with Yurgar’s description. It looks like we’ll be getting in and out on St Cuthbert’s blessing.”
“That’s good news,” Halgo mutters. “We should probably try to leave the door open then, just in case whatever is in there decides to eat you and let the rest of us go. I don’t much fancy the rest of my life in a giant cave I can’t leave.”
“Your concern is touching,” Geoffrey says.
“Just don’t die,” Halgo tells him. “I know there’s nothing usual in that plan, but we should probably stick to it a little closer than usual in there. Especially you.”
Halgo falls back to explain the difficulty of opening the door to the others, mentioning the importance of keeping Geoffrey alive if the rest of the group wants to leave. Geoffrey just readies his holy symbol, faces towards the door, and begins to pray. The warm energy of St Cuthbert’s blessing starts to wash through him, flowing through the holy symbol and towards the metal portal. Runes start to flicker and light up as the energy caresses them, but they quickly die. Geoffrey feels the energy stop flowing abruptly, as though there was something blocking the flow. It isn’t an unfamiliar feeling – the channelling of divine energy has always been an inexact art – but for a moment he considers that St Cuthbert himself may be hesitant, holding back his divine energy in order to protect Durkannan’s secret.
“As ever, Lawgiver, I am your servant,” Geoffrey reminds his deity, just in case, and he starts the process again. This time the flow of energy flow freely, igniting all the runes with a pale blue glow. In the distance, the sound of moving chains can be heard, and slowly the doors to Durkannan’s shame slide open.
Geoffrey walks forward, mace at the ready and holy-symbol in hand, while the rest of the party follows close behind. Inside the caves, the walls and ceiling are streaked with black soot, although here and there patches have been brushed away by a slight contact. The floor is similarly marked, but there is sign of several creatures passing through, their footprints marking the blackened surface. Yip gently squeaks to catch everyone’s attention and points to one of the footprints. Halgo looks, puzzled as to what’s exiting the kobold – it’s a human footprint, much like the others. Then he takes a closer look at the blank spot, and sees the texture of the stone underneath.
“Damn,” he mutters, leaning over to examine it more closely. Yip is quietly tapping on the shoulders of Geoffrey and Amarin, pointing his find to both of them even as Halgo is confirming his opinion.
“What’s up?” Blarth asks. The half-orc has his sword out, its coppery light spilling over the strange cavern.
“The stone,” Halgo says “On the floor, and on the walls. Something melted it away – it’s turned liquid and then reset.”
“Like lava,” Amarin says eagerly. “I’ve seen books about what happens when a volcano erupts – the stone turns into hot quicksilver I think.”
“Not quite,” Halgo says. He stands up, a smudge of soot staining his cheek as he tugs his short beard. “The stone here isn’t volcanic, not this low. Something happened in here, probably long ago, but whatever it was caused the kind of heat that convinces granite to melt like candlewax.”
“Magic?” Blarth asks.
“Nothing I know about,” Halgo says. “Fireballs aren’t this hot, and even the ninth sphere of spells are unlikely to generate this kind of heat. We’re talking about something on the level of ancient red dragons, the flames of some of the nastier parts of hell, Elder elementals and the divine servants of fire gods; that sort of thing.”
Everyone thinks about this for a few moments.
There is an ominous clang as the adamantine doors swing shut behind the party, another row of runes marking the interior.
“Oh yeah,” Geoffrey says. “Anyone else getting a bad feeling about this?”
His eyes glow with a rainbow sheen as he examines it in detail, the telltale sign that he’s searching for traces of psionic energy imbued in the portal. Everyone else just nods, standing a little further back from the god-forged doorway while Halgo and Geoffrey are debating the meaning of various runes inscribed across its length.
Even with the potions to assist with the march, people are tired. The dwarven soldiers maintained a brisk pace, and pushed some of the weaker members past their normal capacity of endurance, but despite the lack of sleep and the hard march the Copperheads are still awake and relatively healthy. Even Amarin, easily the member who felt the exertion the most, perked up to his normal self when he saw the imposing sight of the doorway to Durkannan’s Shame – a shining disk that stands over five men high, with glowing runes running along its length. Everyone else gave the door a wide berth while divination magic’s were used upon it, but the Charosian scholar quickly ambled up for a closer look.
“Do you see any sign of defensive powers imbued?” Halgo asks. Amarin just shrugs.
“Nowhere near that kind of power,” he says. He walks back over to his companions, notebook in hand. “And there isn’t anything particularly dangerous about what I’m registering. Mostly seems to be related to the doors ability to open and close.”
“The runes say the same thing,” Geoffrey says. His head hurts as he tries to remember the meanings of the hundreds of small inscriptions, but his training serves him well. “Most of them will only react to the power of the gods, so everything more or less agrees with Yurgar’s description. It looks like we’ll be getting in and out on St Cuthbert’s blessing.”
“That’s good news,” Halgo mutters. “We should probably try to leave the door open then, just in case whatever is in there decides to eat you and let the rest of us go. I don’t much fancy the rest of my life in a giant cave I can’t leave.”
“Your concern is touching,” Geoffrey says.
“Just don’t die,” Halgo tells him. “I know there’s nothing usual in that plan, but we should probably stick to it a little closer than usual in there. Especially you.”
Halgo falls back to explain the difficulty of opening the door to the others, mentioning the importance of keeping Geoffrey alive if the rest of the group wants to leave. Geoffrey just readies his holy symbol, faces towards the door, and begins to pray. The warm energy of St Cuthbert’s blessing starts to wash through him, flowing through the holy symbol and towards the metal portal. Runes start to flicker and light up as the energy caresses them, but they quickly die. Geoffrey feels the energy stop flowing abruptly, as though there was something blocking the flow. It isn’t an unfamiliar feeling – the channelling of divine energy has always been an inexact art – but for a moment he considers that St Cuthbert himself may be hesitant, holding back his divine energy in order to protect Durkannan’s secret.
“As ever, Lawgiver, I am your servant,” Geoffrey reminds his deity, just in case, and he starts the process again. This time the flow of energy flow freely, igniting all the runes with a pale blue glow. In the distance, the sound of moving chains can be heard, and slowly the doors to Durkannan’s shame slide open.
Geoffrey walks forward, mace at the ready and holy-symbol in hand, while the rest of the party follows close behind. Inside the caves, the walls and ceiling are streaked with black soot, although here and there patches have been brushed away by a slight contact. The floor is similarly marked, but there is sign of several creatures passing through, their footprints marking the blackened surface. Yip gently squeaks to catch everyone’s attention and points to one of the footprints. Halgo looks, puzzled as to what’s exiting the kobold – it’s a human footprint, much like the others. Then he takes a closer look at the blank spot, and sees the texture of the stone underneath.
“Damn,” he mutters, leaning over to examine it more closely. Yip is quietly tapping on the shoulders of Geoffrey and Amarin, pointing his find to both of them even as Halgo is confirming his opinion.
“What’s up?” Blarth asks. The half-orc has his sword out, its coppery light spilling over the strange cavern.
“The stone,” Halgo says “On the floor, and on the walls. Something melted it away – it’s turned liquid and then reset.”
“Like lava,” Amarin says eagerly. “I’ve seen books about what happens when a volcano erupts – the stone turns into hot quicksilver I think.”
“Not quite,” Halgo says. He stands up, a smudge of soot staining his cheek as he tugs his short beard. “The stone here isn’t volcanic, not this low. Something happened in here, probably long ago, but whatever it was caused the kind of heat that convinces granite to melt like candlewax.”
“Magic?” Blarth asks.
“Nothing I know about,” Halgo says. “Fireballs aren’t this hot, and even the ninth sphere of spells are unlikely to generate this kind of heat. We’re talking about something on the level of ancient red dragons, the flames of some of the nastier parts of hell, Elder elementals and the divine servants of fire gods; that sort of thing.”
Everyone thinks about this for a few moments.
There is an ominous clang as the adamantine doors swing shut behind the party, another row of runes marking the interior.
“Oh yeah,” Geoffrey says. “Anyone else getting a bad feeling about this?”
arwink
Clockwork Golem
The doors are quickly examined, but the interior shows no sign of any locking mechanism besides the runes.
“It’ll probably open when you channel divine energy at it,” Halgo points out.
“Probably,” Geoffrey agrees.
“We should check to make sure,” Blarth says.
“Maybe, but it might be worth assuming we’re right,” Geoffrey says. “We have no idea what might be lurking in here, and St Cuthbert will not be pleased if I squander his power so freely. If I open the doors for no reason, I may not be able to turn back any undead we encounter.”
“I thought you were supposed to be good at this?” Halgo asks.
“I am,” Geoffrey says cautiously. “But I’ve never really tested the limits of my ability. In theory, I should be able to turn several times more, but the doors require great energy and it may take more than one attempt. A single check may tell us or we need to know, but we may well be forced to squander the ability in order to be sure.”
“Squander away,” Halgo says. “I’d rather know that we could get out – if we come up against undead, we can negotiate with them the same way we deal with everything else.”
“How do we negotiate with things?” Amarin asks, oblivious to the dwarf’s irony.
“We let Blarth hit them,” Halgo says cheerfully. “Several times, if necessary. It usually does the trick.
Geoffrey channels yet more divine energy towards the portal, just to be sure that they open as easily from the inside, and everyone breaths a sigh of relief when the portals crack open once more.
Outside, the quartet of dwarven guards are watching impassively.
“Just checking,” Geoffrey tells them, tucking the holy symbol under his armour. One of the guards nods in understanding as the doors shut once more.
“Cheerful, aren’t they?” Amarin asks.
“We’re violating the inner sanctum of their gods greatest shame,” Halgo reminds him. “They’re hardly happy about it.”
“Well, there is that,” Amarin admits. He lets out a short sigh. “I just don’t understand this religion thing, you know. We don’t really believe in gods back home.”
“That could be a very sensible decision,” Halgo says. “Remind me of that after all this is over.”
There are tracks leading deeper into the caves from the entry chamber, the smudged patches of soot an easy path to follow. By the light of Blarth’s sword, they can make out another passage leading off from the far side of the room, but it shows little sign of use. Their minds on the task, the Copperheads set off after the obvious sign of intruders.
The stone corridor twists and turns for a while, and every now and then Halgo pauses to check the stone hidden beneath the layers of soot. It still has the half-formed, curved look of melted stone that has re-set and it quickly becomes obvious that the entire cave network is likely to have suffered the same fate.
“Is this better or worse?” Amarin asks curiously, his pen paused over his notepad.
“We’ve travelled nearly a hundred feat,” Halgo points out evenly. “Whatever power or magic did this has covered at least that much, probably more. Let’s just say I don’t want to run into it.”
After a few minutes walk, the corridor splits. The group gathers for a few minutes at the intersection, examining the scuffmarks that lead off in both directions. The question of right or left is easily decided.
“Right,” Yip says sagely. “Yip hear noise, smell something down there.”
No one can think of a reason to oppose the kobolds advice, and no pressing reason to take the left passage manifests itself, so they quickly advance down the corridor with the small kobold in the lead. It opens out into a wide cavern, dimly lit by a stream of lava that runs through its centre. In the dim shadows, Yip can make out giant statues that bear a passing resemblance to orcs, as well as a stone bridge over the fiery liquid. Further details are lost, however, when his keen ears catch the sound of a bow being fired. His quick reflexes let him snatch a missile out of the air, a pleased expression coming over his face as he uses the arrows momentum to spin it like a marching baton before tossing it aside.
His glee lasts all of a second, before a second arrow burries itself in his stomach.
“It’ll probably open when you channel divine energy at it,” Halgo points out.
“Probably,” Geoffrey agrees.
“We should check to make sure,” Blarth says.
“Maybe, but it might be worth assuming we’re right,” Geoffrey says. “We have no idea what might be lurking in here, and St Cuthbert will not be pleased if I squander his power so freely. If I open the doors for no reason, I may not be able to turn back any undead we encounter.”
“I thought you were supposed to be good at this?” Halgo asks.
“I am,” Geoffrey says cautiously. “But I’ve never really tested the limits of my ability. In theory, I should be able to turn several times more, but the doors require great energy and it may take more than one attempt. A single check may tell us or we need to know, but we may well be forced to squander the ability in order to be sure.”
“Squander away,” Halgo says. “I’d rather know that we could get out – if we come up against undead, we can negotiate with them the same way we deal with everything else.”
“How do we negotiate with things?” Amarin asks, oblivious to the dwarf’s irony.
“We let Blarth hit them,” Halgo says cheerfully. “Several times, if necessary. It usually does the trick.
Geoffrey channels yet more divine energy towards the portal, just to be sure that they open as easily from the inside, and everyone breaths a sigh of relief when the portals crack open once more.
Outside, the quartet of dwarven guards are watching impassively.
“Just checking,” Geoffrey tells them, tucking the holy symbol under his armour. One of the guards nods in understanding as the doors shut once more.
“Cheerful, aren’t they?” Amarin asks.
“We’re violating the inner sanctum of their gods greatest shame,” Halgo reminds him. “They’re hardly happy about it.”
“Well, there is that,” Amarin admits. He lets out a short sigh. “I just don’t understand this religion thing, you know. We don’t really believe in gods back home.”
“That could be a very sensible decision,” Halgo says. “Remind me of that after all this is over.”
There are tracks leading deeper into the caves from the entry chamber, the smudged patches of soot an easy path to follow. By the light of Blarth’s sword, they can make out another passage leading off from the far side of the room, but it shows little sign of use. Their minds on the task, the Copperheads set off after the obvious sign of intruders.
The stone corridor twists and turns for a while, and every now and then Halgo pauses to check the stone hidden beneath the layers of soot. It still has the half-formed, curved look of melted stone that has re-set and it quickly becomes obvious that the entire cave network is likely to have suffered the same fate.
“Is this better or worse?” Amarin asks curiously, his pen paused over his notepad.
“We’ve travelled nearly a hundred feat,” Halgo points out evenly. “Whatever power or magic did this has covered at least that much, probably more. Let’s just say I don’t want to run into it.”
After a few minutes walk, the corridor splits. The group gathers for a few minutes at the intersection, examining the scuffmarks that lead off in both directions. The question of right or left is easily decided.
“Right,” Yip says sagely. “Yip hear noise, smell something down there.”
No one can think of a reason to oppose the kobolds advice, and no pressing reason to take the left passage manifests itself, so they quickly advance down the corridor with the small kobold in the lead. It opens out into a wide cavern, dimly lit by a stream of lava that runs through its centre. In the dim shadows, Yip can make out giant statues that bear a passing resemblance to orcs, as well as a stone bridge over the fiery liquid. Further details are lost, however, when his keen ears catch the sound of a bow being fired. His quick reflexes let him snatch a missile out of the air, a pleased expression coming over his face as he uses the arrows momentum to spin it like a marching baton before tossing it aside.
His glee lasts all of a second, before a second arrow burries itself in his stomach.
Mathew_Freeman
Adventurer
Nice use of channeling power, Arwink. I've always thought that clerics should have a chance to use that more often than they do.
arwink
Clockwork Golem
Tallarn said:
Yes, well, um...look, over there
As close readers may have noticed, I'm not real big on using undead as opponents. This is just a trait of my games for some reason - a hold-over from previous editions where I didn't like level drain and a kind of mental block regarding the dead whenever I start flipping through a monster manual. In a game like the copperheads, where characters like Yip and Halgo are fairly reliant on fighting opponents with a physiology (for sneak attack) and a Will save (for Halgo, and to a lesser extent Amarin's, major spells), the undead are even rarer than normal for my games.
So it was around this point that I decided to start paying attention to the characters abilities and ensure they get to use some that were laying by the wayside - so Blarth was getting a bunch of low-HD bad guys to cleave, Halgo was getting weird magic and in-character sneakiness to engage in, and Geoffrey was getting a chance to...er...use the extra-turning feat he'd taken way back at 1st level?
So naturally, when I eventually clicked that Geoffrey had a feat that he was never getting to use, I set about designing an adventure designed to cater for that. As I told people at the start of the game, I really wanted to make sure he used up every single turning attempt he had for the day. I've since allowed him to shift it out, seeing as there's really not much point in having it with my style of game (although I'm not sure he did, and I should probably write another turn-check intensive adventure if he didn't).
As a side note - A large part of the reason I used the Depth's of Rage adventure was because it had so many skill checks that Yip was good at - balance, escape artist, tumble, etc. Yip's player is usually the guy whose running around playing barbarians and gnolls, so I really wanted an adventure that showed off the advantages of being a monk (or monk/rogue/fighter, as the case may be). Unfortunately, the skill checks weren't really necessary for the adventure and instead of being a bunch of cool moments for Yip, they were just an endless succession of annoyances for everyone else.
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