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Copperheads: Betrayal and Strange Runes and Burning Dead, oh my (short update 02/12)
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<blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 932421" data-attributes="member: 2292"><p><em>Tuesday, September 19th, 508 AF</em></p><p></p><p>Dawn comes to Bellhold.</p><p></p><p>The light finds its way into rooms of all kinds, creeping in through the gaps between curtains or the cracks in shutters. To many, the light goes unnoticed. Dawn has a long history of arriving in town, it has happened every day for time unknown. Few but the farmers and the bakers feel the need to be up and about before the suns first beam touches the ground, and none seem to treat the event as something out of the ordinary. </p><p></p><p>The four men known as the Copperheads sleep, gradually recovering from an evening that was partly spent curbing Blarth’s rising panic and partly spent congratulating him on the good fortune of becoming a father. The light spills on Geoffrey’s face, but he merely mumbles through a mouth made dry from to much wine and adjusts the drapes on his rented room. Blarth tosses and turns in his hut, his dreams haunted by thoughts of his own missing parents and the future of his own child. Yip is awake as the light hits his room; he notices little as he meditates on the virtues of duty and abstinence in an attempt to rectify a night of indulging in honey-mead and ale. In a room at the back of the Millinery, Gladys Halroth is beyond sleep. Her rest has been scarce since the dwarven tenant moved in upstairs, his thunderous snores seeping through the wooden floor a mere hour after Halgo slumbers. The elderly hat-maker is perhaps the first inhabitant of Bellhold proper to see the light, and certainly the first to open a window and greet the new day. </p><p> </p><p>She is also the first to faint at the surprise of what the new day brings. </p><p></p><p>She isn’t the last.</p><p></p><p>The light of dawn isn’t enough to wake the citizens of Bellhold, but the thundering voice that cuts through sleep like an avalanche is more than adequate. Hundreds of eyes snap open as the cry echoes against the mountains that surround the town.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: blue">I HAVE COME FOR FIDELITY OF KHEST. IT IS KNOWN TO ME THAT HE VISITED THY SETTLEMENT, AND THAT NEAR THY SETTLEMENT HE DIED. PROVIDE ME WITH HIS LOCATION OR HIS CORPSE, OR I SHALL BE FORCED TO BECOME VEXED WITH THEE.</span> </p><p></p><p>People leap from beds, suddenly awake with an intensity and alertness that few knew they were capable of. Many fly to their windows, peeking from their windows to catch sight of the speaker with a booming voice. </p><p></p><p>Dawn has not come to Bellhold. At least, it has not come yet. Instead, a shining member of the Celestial Host hovers above the town with a radiance that lights the town as brightly as pure daylight. His expression is dour, verging on angry, and the very way he hovers in the air speaks of impatience and irritation.</p><p></p><p>Many townsfolk follow Gladys Halroth’s example and faint dead away. One is brave enough to heft a shoe at the flying celestial, as though it were merely an irritating dog or bird singing a welcome song to dawn. Fortunately for the peasant, the celestial either fails to notice or ignores the attempt that falls several dozen feet short of the height at which it hovers. Everyone else attempts to cower in fear, praying for deliverance.</p><p></p><p>In his hut, Blarth glances at the celestial once more before cursing the loss of a good shoe and his hung-over aim. He returns to bed, grumbling about the way the angel shines hurting his eyes. </p><p></p><p>In the temple of St Cuthbert, Yip unwinds from his meditative pose and watches the flying creature in awe. Something within him shifts and twists at the sight of the shining light, but it is a weak and feeble instinct that is easily controlled. Yip swallows once, keeps his eyes locked on the hovering creature and waits for what is to come.</p><p></p><p>Halgo gazes out the window, a grin on his face. “Nice illusion,” he thinks to himself. “I wonder who’s creating it. It’ll require an enormous amount of power.”</p><p>He watches for a few seconds longer, waiting for the weight of his disbelief to cause the sight to slough away to nothingness. It doesn’t, remaining strong and real enough to burn itself onto his eyes. For a few seconds Halgo’s grin remains frozen on his face, then he realises that there’s an actual real, honest-to-the-gods angel hovering above town. He lets out something that could be a gibber, then clutches at his backpack and it’s precious contents in a panic. “If I live through this,” he mutters to himself, “I need to secure things better.”</p><p></p><p>On the third story of the Bell and Clapper, Geoffrey Cromwell starts climbing into his armour. He keeps half an eye on the window as he straps on greaves and readies his shield, watching as the hovering angel starts to patrol back and forth over the town. For a moment Geoffrey thinks the creature’s golden eyes are turned on the inn’s window, and the cleric must take a deep breath to keep from quailing in fear. </p><p></p><p>As the angel starts its third circle over the town, Geoffrey is ready. He ensures his holy symbol is displayed prominently on his chest, that his shield and morning star are as presentable as they can be made on short notice. Then, with another breath to shore up his bravery, the cleric of St Cuthbert strides towards the stairs and the front door of the inn. He has his morning star clenched in a sweaty grip, his shield held forth with a precision he hasn’t known since he took his first vows as a warrior-priest.</p><p></p><p>“Greetings, Shining one,” Geoffrey calls from the inn’s courtyard, reflexively slipping into the language of religious scholarship and formal greeting. It seems a hollow and empty cry next to the booming expanse of the angel’s voice, but Geoffrey’s call is enough to catch the creature’s attention. “I am Geoffrey Cromwell, servant of St Cuthbert of the Cudgel, Guardian of the tenets of Law and Justice. If you have some business in town, would perhaps consent to speak with me.” </p><p></p><p>The Angel’s eyes lock with Geoffrey’s, blazing with raw power and righteousness. With a nod, it draws a sword composed of pure flame and swoops towards the cleric.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="arwink, post: 932421, member: 2292"] [i]Tuesday, September 19th, 508 AF[/i] Dawn comes to Bellhold. The light finds its way into rooms of all kinds, creeping in through the gaps between curtains or the cracks in shutters. To many, the light goes unnoticed. Dawn has a long history of arriving in town, it has happened every day for time unknown. Few but the farmers and the bakers feel the need to be up and about before the suns first beam touches the ground, and none seem to treat the event as something out of the ordinary. The four men known as the Copperheads sleep, gradually recovering from an evening that was partly spent curbing Blarth’s rising panic and partly spent congratulating him on the good fortune of becoming a father. The light spills on Geoffrey’s face, but he merely mumbles through a mouth made dry from to much wine and adjusts the drapes on his rented room. Blarth tosses and turns in his hut, his dreams haunted by thoughts of his own missing parents and the future of his own child. Yip is awake as the light hits his room; he notices little as he meditates on the virtues of duty and abstinence in an attempt to rectify a night of indulging in honey-mead and ale. In a room at the back of the Millinery, Gladys Halroth is beyond sleep. Her rest has been scarce since the dwarven tenant moved in upstairs, his thunderous snores seeping through the wooden floor a mere hour after Halgo slumbers. The elderly hat-maker is perhaps the first inhabitant of Bellhold proper to see the light, and certainly the first to open a window and greet the new day. She is also the first to faint at the surprise of what the new day brings. She isn’t the last. The light of dawn isn’t enough to wake the citizens of Bellhold, but the thundering voice that cuts through sleep like an avalanche is more than adequate. Hundreds of eyes snap open as the cry echoes against the mountains that surround the town. [COLOR=blue]I HAVE COME FOR FIDELITY OF KHEST. IT IS KNOWN TO ME THAT HE VISITED THY SETTLEMENT, AND THAT NEAR THY SETTLEMENT HE DIED. PROVIDE ME WITH HIS LOCATION OR HIS CORPSE, OR I SHALL BE FORCED TO BECOME VEXED WITH THEE.[/COLOR] People leap from beds, suddenly awake with an intensity and alertness that few knew they were capable of. Many fly to their windows, peeking from their windows to catch sight of the speaker with a booming voice. Dawn has not come to Bellhold. At least, it has not come yet. Instead, a shining member of the Celestial Host hovers above the town with a radiance that lights the town as brightly as pure daylight. His expression is dour, verging on angry, and the very way he hovers in the air speaks of impatience and irritation. Many townsfolk follow Gladys Halroth’s example and faint dead away. One is brave enough to heft a shoe at the flying celestial, as though it were merely an irritating dog or bird singing a welcome song to dawn. Fortunately for the peasant, the celestial either fails to notice or ignores the attempt that falls several dozen feet short of the height at which it hovers. Everyone else attempts to cower in fear, praying for deliverance. In his hut, Blarth glances at the celestial once more before cursing the loss of a good shoe and his hung-over aim. He returns to bed, grumbling about the way the angel shines hurting his eyes. In the temple of St Cuthbert, Yip unwinds from his meditative pose and watches the flying creature in awe. Something within him shifts and twists at the sight of the shining light, but it is a weak and feeble instinct that is easily controlled. Yip swallows once, keeps his eyes locked on the hovering creature and waits for what is to come. Halgo gazes out the window, a grin on his face. “Nice illusion,” he thinks to himself. “I wonder who’s creating it. It’ll require an enormous amount of power.” He watches for a few seconds longer, waiting for the weight of his disbelief to cause the sight to slough away to nothingness. It doesn’t, remaining strong and real enough to burn itself onto his eyes. For a few seconds Halgo’s grin remains frozen on his face, then he realises that there’s an actual real, honest-to-the-gods angel hovering above town. He lets out something that could be a gibber, then clutches at his backpack and it’s precious contents in a panic. “If I live through this,” he mutters to himself, “I need to secure things better.” On the third story of the Bell and Clapper, Geoffrey Cromwell starts climbing into his armour. He keeps half an eye on the window as he straps on greaves and readies his shield, watching as the hovering angel starts to patrol back and forth over the town. For a moment Geoffrey thinks the creature’s golden eyes are turned on the inn’s window, and the cleric must take a deep breath to keep from quailing in fear. As the angel starts its third circle over the town, Geoffrey is ready. He ensures his holy symbol is displayed prominently on his chest, that his shield and morning star are as presentable as they can be made on short notice. Then, with another breath to shore up his bravery, the cleric of St Cuthbert strides towards the stairs and the front door of the inn. He has his morning star clenched in a sweaty grip, his shield held forth with a precision he hasn’t known since he took his first vows as a warrior-priest. “Greetings, Shining one,” Geoffrey calls from the inn’s courtyard, reflexively slipping into the language of religious scholarship and formal greeting. It seems a hollow and empty cry next to the booming expanse of the angel’s voice, but Geoffrey’s call is enough to catch the creature’s attention. “I am Geoffrey Cromwell, servant of St Cuthbert of the Cudgel, Guardian of the tenets of Law and Justice. If you have some business in town, would perhaps consent to speak with me.” The Angel’s eyes lock with Geoffrey’s, blazing with raw power and righteousness. With a nod, it draws a sword composed of pure flame and swoops towards the cleric. [/QUOTE]
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