Copperheads: Betrayal and Strange Runes and Burning Dead, oh my (short update 02/12)
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arwink
Clockwork Golem
Yip coughs a small mouthful of blood onto the ground, one paw groping for a healing potion as the other pulls the arrow free from its place in his flesh. He can hear the distinctive metal clank of his comrades coming up behind him, the sounds of spells being cast.
He’s even distantly aware of more arrows coming out of the darkness, but with his instincts honed by pain he nimbly stumbles aside. Geoffrey and Blarth are both charging towards the lava-pool, Amarin and Halgo letting loose with spells and psionics. Then he catches sight of a potion vial spinning through the air, its reddish contents sloshing dangerously as it moves. His own potion stoppered with one of his fingers, Yip leaps to the side mere seconds before the thrown vial lands and billows into a fireball.
The pain in his stomach is intense as Yip tumbles, beating at a few clinging sparks with his free paw, and even as he rights himself he brings the healing potion to his lips. Flesh fuses together, the taste of blood recedes into a memory, and the empty potion vial smashes against the floor.
The wound in his stomach healed, Yip gets his first real look at the field of battle.
Glitterdust suddenly flares into existence around a figure lurking on the shoulder of one of the statues, a lean humanoid wearing a silvery facemask that resembles a serpent. One of Amarin’s constructs, this time crafted to resemble a silvery mongoose with wings, suddenly skitters across the sky towards another archer with a similar mask that hides on the head of a second statue. Geoffrey has leapt onto the wall, his slippers of spider climbing allowing him to avoid the lava and travel along the wall. Blarth is faced with a more difficult path – the stone bridge is crumbling and requires anyone crossing to jump from place to place. Despite his great strength, the half-orc seems discouraged from making the attempt by the lava’s great heat and a pair of mask-wearing warriors waiting on the far side. Both the warriors are armed with large, curved swords that require two hands to use, and they stand ready to knock anyone who lands on their side of the bridge back into the water. Yip spies a third archer, on the far side of the from Geoffrey’s advance and the fluttering construct, so the kobold quickly leaps onto the wall with his own slippers and starts scurrying towards the final archer, his paws flexing angrily as he sees the shortbow swinging in the direction of Amarin. As he sprints, Yip hears the telltale roar of Blarth using his flute, and the sickening sound of one of the sword-wielding warriors falling into the fire as his eardrums rupture. The other warrior merely screams, as does the glitter-dusted archer.
Two of the archers fire, their arrows far less accurate when the targets are aware of their presence. The third swings his bow widely, trying to aim by sound alone, and Halgo watches with delight as the missile goes wide. Even as the archer attempts to slink back into the shadows cast by the statue he’s standing on, it’s obvious that the glitterdust has blinded him as effectively as it highlights his position, the sniper stumbling as he takes a tentative backwards step and almost falling from his perch. Yip reaches his target and flicks out a paw that paralyses the snipers arm, drawing a cry of surprise from his opponent as he whirls and tries to draw a dagger to keep between the kobold and himself.
Blarth leaps over the crack in the bridge, his armoured form landing noisily next to the still-staggered swordsman. Luckringer flashes in the reddish light of the lava, and the second swordsman follows the first into the molten liquid. Geoffrey and Amarin’s construct start teaming up against the third archer, the wall-crawling cleric and the fluttering mongoose taking turns to batter at the snake-masked enemy. Although the snake-mask is quick to draw a long knife, his haste to avoid his opponents proves to be his downfall. Like the other two snipers, he has taken a position on the shoulder of a statue nearly thirty feet high. Unlike his companions, he isn’t as sure-footed, and he slips from his perch and bounces noisily to the floor. The construct dives downwards towards the prone form, delivering a final blow that ensures he never regains his feet.
At the rear of the combat, Amarin is struggling to load his crossbow. He’s dimly aware that there are snipers out there, and that he has little chance of hitting either of them, but something about trying to load the weapon makes him feel better about his situation. His bird-thin arms struggle with the crank, pulling back the bowstring and trying to place the bolt in at the same time. Whether Amarin is as surprised as the blinded sniper when he accidentally misfires the crossbow is debatable, but in the fleeting moments of pain the sniper has after the misfired bolt pierces his thigh is certainly a clear indication that he got the raw end of the accident. Fortunately the sudden shock of being shot is enough to distract him from his more immediate problems, and at least he never has to watch the ground rushing towards him.
Or, at least, that’s the thought Amarin consoles himself with as the sudden pang of guilt over killing his first human being seeps into his soul.
The final archer, barely holding his own against Yip, does little to live up to the devastating effectiveness of his first attack. Skilled as he is with the bow, the sniper is no match for the kobold monk in hand to hand, and once both Geoffrey and the construct move in to assist the kobold and split the archers guard, the kobold’s small paws are quick to snap leg bones and send the archer tumbling to the floor. This sniper does have to watch the floor rushing to meet him, but he handles it stoically and with a minimum of screaming.
He’s even distantly aware of more arrows coming out of the darkness, but with his instincts honed by pain he nimbly stumbles aside. Geoffrey and Blarth are both charging towards the lava-pool, Amarin and Halgo letting loose with spells and psionics. Then he catches sight of a potion vial spinning through the air, its reddish contents sloshing dangerously as it moves. His own potion stoppered with one of his fingers, Yip leaps to the side mere seconds before the thrown vial lands and billows into a fireball.
The pain in his stomach is intense as Yip tumbles, beating at a few clinging sparks with his free paw, and even as he rights himself he brings the healing potion to his lips. Flesh fuses together, the taste of blood recedes into a memory, and the empty potion vial smashes against the floor.
The wound in his stomach healed, Yip gets his first real look at the field of battle.
Glitterdust suddenly flares into existence around a figure lurking on the shoulder of one of the statues, a lean humanoid wearing a silvery facemask that resembles a serpent. One of Amarin’s constructs, this time crafted to resemble a silvery mongoose with wings, suddenly skitters across the sky towards another archer with a similar mask that hides on the head of a second statue. Geoffrey has leapt onto the wall, his slippers of spider climbing allowing him to avoid the lava and travel along the wall. Blarth is faced with a more difficult path – the stone bridge is crumbling and requires anyone crossing to jump from place to place. Despite his great strength, the half-orc seems discouraged from making the attempt by the lava’s great heat and a pair of mask-wearing warriors waiting on the far side. Both the warriors are armed with large, curved swords that require two hands to use, and they stand ready to knock anyone who lands on their side of the bridge back into the water. Yip spies a third archer, on the far side of the from Geoffrey’s advance and the fluttering construct, so the kobold quickly leaps onto the wall with his own slippers and starts scurrying towards the final archer, his paws flexing angrily as he sees the shortbow swinging in the direction of Amarin. As he sprints, Yip hears the telltale roar of Blarth using his flute, and the sickening sound of one of the sword-wielding warriors falling into the fire as his eardrums rupture. The other warrior merely screams, as does the glitter-dusted archer.
Two of the archers fire, their arrows far less accurate when the targets are aware of their presence. The third swings his bow widely, trying to aim by sound alone, and Halgo watches with delight as the missile goes wide. Even as the archer attempts to slink back into the shadows cast by the statue he’s standing on, it’s obvious that the glitterdust has blinded him as effectively as it highlights his position, the sniper stumbling as he takes a tentative backwards step and almost falling from his perch. Yip reaches his target and flicks out a paw that paralyses the snipers arm, drawing a cry of surprise from his opponent as he whirls and tries to draw a dagger to keep between the kobold and himself.
Blarth leaps over the crack in the bridge, his armoured form landing noisily next to the still-staggered swordsman. Luckringer flashes in the reddish light of the lava, and the second swordsman follows the first into the molten liquid. Geoffrey and Amarin’s construct start teaming up against the third archer, the wall-crawling cleric and the fluttering mongoose taking turns to batter at the snake-masked enemy. Although the snake-mask is quick to draw a long knife, his haste to avoid his opponents proves to be his downfall. Like the other two snipers, he has taken a position on the shoulder of a statue nearly thirty feet high. Unlike his companions, he isn’t as sure-footed, and he slips from his perch and bounces noisily to the floor. The construct dives downwards towards the prone form, delivering a final blow that ensures he never regains his feet.
At the rear of the combat, Amarin is struggling to load his crossbow. He’s dimly aware that there are snipers out there, and that he has little chance of hitting either of them, but something about trying to load the weapon makes him feel better about his situation. His bird-thin arms struggle with the crank, pulling back the bowstring and trying to place the bolt in at the same time. Whether Amarin is as surprised as the blinded sniper when he accidentally misfires the crossbow is debatable, but in the fleeting moments of pain the sniper has after the misfired bolt pierces his thigh is certainly a clear indication that he got the raw end of the accident. Fortunately the sudden shock of being shot is enough to distract him from his more immediate problems, and at least he never has to watch the ground rushing towards him.
Or, at least, that’s the thought Amarin consoles himself with as the sudden pang of guilt over killing his first human being seeps into his soul.
The final archer, barely holding his own against Yip, does little to live up to the devastating effectiveness of his first attack. Skilled as he is with the bow, the sniper is no match for the kobold monk in hand to hand, and once both Geoffrey and the construct move in to assist the kobold and split the archers guard, the kobold’s small paws are quick to snap leg bones and send the archer tumbling to the floor. This sniper does have to watch the floor rushing to meet him, but he handles it stoically and with a minimum of screaming.
arwink
Clockwork Golem
“Right, who were these bastards?” Geoffrey demands, applying healing magic to Yip. Although the wound in the kobolds stomach has closed, the pain has returned almost as soon as the adrenaline from the fight wears off. Everyone else is already two steps ahead, gathering together the corpses and pulling free any treasure and identifying marks. Their small supplies of gold, marked with the sign of a serpent, are set aside as are the silver snake-masks. More importantly, two vials of amber liquid similar to the one thrown at Yip are found in one of the archer’s pouches. The liquid is quickly dubbed a fireball potion, and they are given to Yip to ensure they are thrown with accuracy when needed. The valuables divided, the more important of who they are is returned to and addressed in force.
“We only have the archers to go on,” Halgo says, “but I’d say they’re Sulrathi. Dark skin and hair, the style of the swords, and the masks.”
“Southern Sulrathi,” Amarin pipes up. “If you look at the robes, they’re different to the style worn by the nomads that keep trying to invade your countries.”
“What’s the difference?” Geoffrey says, picking up a snake-mask and a holy symbol that resembles a coiled serpent. “A sulrathi is a sulrathi?”
“Well, they’re generally more organised,” Amarin says, his eyes rolling back slightly as he tries to remember some obscure texts. “And, to be honest, if the southerners had invaded your empire none of you would have an empire to stand in. They’re more driven, and their magic is almost as powerful as the Seldarni academies of the time and they’re more skilled in the arts of tactics. The Imperial states, particularly Thilt and Chulduur, were in no state to…”
“It’s okay,” Geoffrey interrupts. “We get it.”
“You did ask,” Amarin says. “In any case, the southern Sulrathi tend to build cities rather than live in nomad clans, and their religions tendencies are known to be slightly darker than their northern kin.”
“They worship dif’rent gods?” Blarth asks.
“No, but they have a different church,” Amarin explains. “And the priests tend to be politically powerful, rather than some shaman or prophet struggling to keep feuding tribes united for a vision of conquest.”
“So why didn’t they win?” Geoffrey asks. “If they could have done it, why didn’t they step in when the northerners invaded? Why let the empire form?”
“Partially, its because they had to fight their way through the old kingdoms to invade the empire,” Amarin says cautiously. “That’s not necessarily a fight they could have won. Mostly, though, it’s because they don’t care. They do what their priests tell them to, and the priests aren’t big on temporal power.”
“What they want then?” Yip asks.
Amarin shrugs.
“I’m not really sure,” he says. “I’ve never really made a detailed study of Sulrathi theology, or any theology really. What little I know comes from historical sources.”
“They want entropy,” Geoffrey says. He holds up the coiled snake symbol, it’s silvery surface catching the red light of the cave. “The symbol of Set. From what I remember, he’s supposed to be destroying the world and giving birth to all evil. Chaos, destruction, devastation, lies; all of them are his stock in trade. The Church has a standing order to execute any clerics found within imperial territory without benefit of a trial.”
“You do seem to do a lot of that,” Amarin murmurs quietly, but he’s quickly learning the wisdom of keeping such comments from Geoffrey in times of tension.
“The real question,” Halgo rumbles, his tone slightly concerned, “is what a bunch of desert dwellers, particularly sulrathi that live in an area further south than the borders of the empire, are doing in a cave half a world away from their homeland that contains some kind of gods secret, particularly when they don’t desire temporal power.”
Everyone thinks about this for a second.
“Actually,” Geoffrey ventures. “The really frightening question is how a bunch of Sulrathi made it onto Bor, then cross country, and then into the tunnels, without being noticed by anyone other than the dwarves."
"Actually, to be fair, the dwarves didn't notice them - not for long," Amarin corrects. "I mean, I'm assuming that guards that notice things tend not to end up dead without getting off some kind of warning..."
"He doesn't know us that well yet," Halgo mutters to himself, grinning, but everyone takes the psions point. It's not a cheerful thought.
Geoffrey sighs.
"We might have to have a conversation with Oleg about magical security on the docks," he says. "And we should probably mention the prospect of border patrols sweeping the coast-line - I don't think the current method of relying on an impenetrable coastline, savage wilderness and freezing cold is really working as well as he thinks it is..."
“We only have the archers to go on,” Halgo says, “but I’d say they’re Sulrathi. Dark skin and hair, the style of the swords, and the masks.”
“Southern Sulrathi,” Amarin pipes up. “If you look at the robes, they’re different to the style worn by the nomads that keep trying to invade your countries.”
“What’s the difference?” Geoffrey says, picking up a snake-mask and a holy symbol that resembles a coiled serpent. “A sulrathi is a sulrathi?”
“Well, they’re generally more organised,” Amarin says, his eyes rolling back slightly as he tries to remember some obscure texts. “And, to be honest, if the southerners had invaded your empire none of you would have an empire to stand in. They’re more driven, and their magic is almost as powerful as the Seldarni academies of the time and they’re more skilled in the arts of tactics. The Imperial states, particularly Thilt and Chulduur, were in no state to…”
“It’s okay,” Geoffrey interrupts. “We get it.”
“You did ask,” Amarin says. “In any case, the southern Sulrathi tend to build cities rather than live in nomad clans, and their religions tendencies are known to be slightly darker than their northern kin.”
“They worship dif’rent gods?” Blarth asks.
“No, but they have a different church,” Amarin explains. “And the priests tend to be politically powerful, rather than some shaman or prophet struggling to keep feuding tribes united for a vision of conquest.”
“So why didn’t they win?” Geoffrey asks. “If they could have done it, why didn’t they step in when the northerners invaded? Why let the empire form?”
“Partially, its because they had to fight their way through the old kingdoms to invade the empire,” Amarin says cautiously. “That’s not necessarily a fight they could have won. Mostly, though, it’s because they don’t care. They do what their priests tell them to, and the priests aren’t big on temporal power.”
“What they want then?” Yip asks.
Amarin shrugs.
“I’m not really sure,” he says. “I’ve never really made a detailed study of Sulrathi theology, or any theology really. What little I know comes from historical sources.”
“They want entropy,” Geoffrey says. He holds up the coiled snake symbol, it’s silvery surface catching the red light of the cave. “The symbol of Set. From what I remember, he’s supposed to be destroying the world and giving birth to all evil. Chaos, destruction, devastation, lies; all of them are his stock in trade. The Church has a standing order to execute any clerics found within imperial territory without benefit of a trial.”
“You do seem to do a lot of that,” Amarin murmurs quietly, but he’s quickly learning the wisdom of keeping such comments from Geoffrey in times of tension.
“The real question,” Halgo rumbles, his tone slightly concerned, “is what a bunch of desert dwellers, particularly sulrathi that live in an area further south than the borders of the empire, are doing in a cave half a world away from their homeland that contains some kind of gods secret, particularly when they don’t desire temporal power.”
Everyone thinks about this for a second.
“Actually,” Geoffrey ventures. “The really frightening question is how a bunch of Sulrathi made it onto Bor, then cross country, and then into the tunnels, without being noticed by anyone other than the dwarves."
"Actually, to be fair, the dwarves didn't notice them - not for long," Amarin corrects. "I mean, I'm assuming that guards that notice things tend not to end up dead without getting off some kind of warning..."
"He doesn't know us that well yet," Halgo mutters to himself, grinning, but everyone takes the psions point. It's not a cheerful thought.
Geoffrey sighs.
"We might have to have a conversation with Oleg about magical security on the docks," he says. "And we should probably mention the prospect of border patrols sweeping the coast-line - I don't think the current method of relying on an impenetrable coastline, savage wilderness and freezing cold is really working as well as he thinks it is..."
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Graywolf-ELM
Explorer
The Flurry of updates is appreciated.
I am borrowing some of Arwink's enhanced kobold's for an update to the module B1. The magic room with various magical liquids is now a room being used to breed different kinds of Kobolds. Evil Kobold Sorcerer genetic manipulation, is how the Black Tongue Kobolds will make it into my world. There will be a few mistakes around as well in the lower caverns.
I am borrowing some of Arwink's enhanced kobold's for an update to the module B1. The magic room with various magical liquids is now a room being used to breed different kinds of Kobolds. Evil Kobold Sorcerer genetic manipulation, is how the Black Tongue Kobolds will make it into my world. There will be a few mistakes around as well in the lower caverns.
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