Advanced Race Guide Preview: Letting the Cat out of the Bag
Tuesday, May 1.35, 2012
Actually, we are letting the cat out of the book. Last week, after previewing the tengu section of the Advanced Race Guide, we asked you what you wanted to see next. We received many good suggestions, but it seems that many of you wanted to see the catfolk.
These lithe and agile creatures make excellent monks, rangers, and especially rogues, but they also have a mysterious side, as they are sometimes able to control luck and can draw on supernatural powers and spells that are very catlike in nature. This week’s preview examines just some examples of these themes in the catfolk section.
Illustration by Kieran Yanner
Catfolk Rogue Talents
The following rogue talents can only be taken by catfolk.
Deadly Scratch (Ex): A catfolk rogue with this talent can apply poison to her claws without accidentally poisoning herself. A catfolk rogue must have the cat’s claws racial trait and the poison use class feature before taking this talent.
Disarming Luck (Ex): Once per day, when a catfolk rogue attempts to disable a device and fails by 5 or more, she can reroll the check as a free action. She must take the result of the reroll, even if it’s worse than the original roll.
Graceful Faller (Ex): A catfolk rogue with this talent lands on her feet even when she takes lethal damage from a fall. If the catfolk rogue also has the nimble faller racial trait, she takes damage from any fall as if it were 20 feet shorter than it actually is.
Nimble Climber (Ex): A catfolk rogue with this talent gains a +4 bonus on Climb checks. If she has the climber racial trait, she can take 10 on her Climb checks even when in immediate danger or distracted.
Single-Minded Appraiser (Ex): A catfolk rogue with this talent is skilled at determining the value of sparkly things. She can always take 10 when appraising gems and jewelry.
Vicious Claws (Ex): A catfolk with this talent uses d8s to roll sneak attack damage instead of d6s, but only when she uses her claws to make the sneak attack. A catfolk rogue must have the cat’s claws racial trait before taking this talent.
Catfolk Feats
Catfolk have access to the following feats.
Black Cat
Bad luck befalls those who dare to cross you. Prerequisite: Catfolk. Benefit: Once per day as an immediate action, when you are hit by a melee attack, you can force the opponent who made the attack to reroll it with a –4 penalty. The opponent must take the result of the second attack roll. This is a supernatural ability. Special: If you take this feat and don’t already have all black fur, your fur turns completely black when you take this feat.
Catfolk Magic Items
The following magic items are often created and used by catfolk.
This pair of magical softpaw boots (see above) allows the catfolk wearing them to gain extra maneuverability while moving through hazardous areas. As a free action, the wearer can click her heels together to grant herself a +5 competence bonus on Acrobatics checks made to move through threatened squares or to move through an enemy’s space without provoking attacks of opportunity for up to 10 rounds per day. The rounds need not be consecutive. Furthermore, anytime the wearer of the boots successfully moves though the space of an enemy without provoking an attack of opportunity, she gains a +2 bonus on attack rolls against that enemy until the end of her turn.
Construction
Requirements Craft Wondrous Item, cat’s grace; Cost 700 gp
Catfolk Spells
Catfolk have access to the following spells.
Steal breath School transmutation [air]; Level bard 2, druid 2, sorcerer/wizard 2, witch 2 Casting Time 1 standard action Components V, S Range close (25 ft. + 5 ft./2 levels) Target one living creature Duration 1 round (see text) Saving Throw Fortitude negates; see text; Spell Resistance yes
You pull the breath from a creature’s lungs, dealing damage and leaving it unable to speak, use breath weapons, or cast spells with verbal components. If the target fails its saving throw, it takes 2d6 points of damage, and it cannot speak, use breath weapons, or do anything else requiring breathing, and a visible line of swirling air leaves the target’s mouth and enters your mouth.
If, during the duration, the target moves out of range or line of effect to you, the spell immediately ends. This spell has no effect on creatures that do not need to breathe air.
As early as Season 1, the Pathfinder Society Organized Play campaign has featured a number of multipart scenarios—mini campaign arcs designed to tell longer and more complex stories than a single 4-hour gaming session can provide. Whether in the form of four-part series like The Devil We Know, Echoes of the Everwar, and the Tier 12 retirement arc The Eyes of the Ten; a three-part arc like this season’s The Quest for Perfection and last season’s The Heresy of Man and Shades of Ice; or a two-part story such as The City of Strangers, Shadow’s Last Stand, and Before the Dawn, the level of continuity between segments and the arcs’ overall scopes have varied quite a bit in the last three years.
One of my goals as developer of the Pathfinder Society Scenarios line is to make multipart scenarios feel more cohesive and to provide players with a sense of accomplishment for completing these long format series. But finding the right balance of telling compelling, immersive stories and meeting the needs of the organized play campaign’s unique design parameters hasn’t come easy. And we’re still trying out new things.
Earlier this year, we released the Wonders in the Weave series, a Tier 5–9 two-part arc introducing characters to the Hao Jin Tapestry, the private demiplane the Society won as part of the Ruby Phoenix Tournament at the season’s halfway point. In this series, we tried something new with the mutliparters: we provided a boon at the end of the first installment, The Dog Pharaoh’s Tomb that grants no inherent bonuses. But having this boon on the Chronicle sheet immediately preceding the second chapter in the series, Snakes in the Fold allowed characters to earn a second boon that is only awarded for those PCs playing the story in order and without interruption between.
That method worked okay, but we still felt there was room for improvement. So with the release of last month’s Tier 7–11 scenario, Pathfinder Society Scenario #3–20: The Rats of Round Mountain, Part I: The Sundered Path, we had a chance to try a different tack with multipart boons. We were further motivated to push the envelope by the specific circumstances of this mini-arc’s plot: the PCs travel to the center of a hollow mountain in Part I, and then venture into a ratfolk stronghold within the mountain in Part II. It didn’t make sense for PCs to make a long trek, then magically be outside the mountain and even back on the Material Plane doing other adventures, partaking in a Day Job, or even buying equipment, then suddenly be back in the middle of the mountain at the start of the next adventure. If it were so easy to get back and forth from the mountain’s center to Absalom, why did they need to journey there on foot in Part I?
The solution we came up with is this: at the end of The Sundered Path, PCs are given a choice to remain there, forgoing the ability to purchase equipment or spellcasting services, make Day Job checks, or participate in other scenarios, or to hand-wave their characters’ continuity but sacrifice their ability to get a larger boon as a reward for playing the two scenarios back-to-back. Since PCs inside Round Mountain who choose the former are assumed to have been there continually before the start of Part II, Pagoda of the Rat, they won’t receive a faction handout for the scenario, and only need to complete a faction mission if they want to; players doing both scenarios continuously will automatically receive full prestige for the second part of the series. What the other benefits of sticking it out are, I’m going to keep under my hat, but I think folks will be pleased with the rewards.
Be sure to participate in the discussion of this topic below, or on our Pathfinder Society messageboards, and let us know what you think of this experiment.
We're getting to deep into the previews for the Rise of the Runelords Pathfinder Battles set that I've almost run out of pictures to show you! A handful of minis remain yet to be revealed, but I'm pleased to report that some of them are among the coolest in the set!
Today I'd like to show off two Small miniatures from the set that leave a very big impression.
Up first is the dreaded Kobold Champion! This lizard-like warrior woman might look a bit like a rank-and-file kobold, but she's in fact encountered late in the campaign, and boy does she ever pack a surprising punch! Although the Rise of the Runelords campaign contains only one Kobold Champion, we decided to slot this figure in the common rarity, reasoning that game masters can always use more well-sculpted kobolds to swarm over their players at any level!
It's probably a bit difficult to tell from the small photos here, but this figure has a remarkable number of paint steps for both a common miniature and a Small miniature, making her really stand out despite her diminutive size. From the paint gradient on her legs and tail to the bright blue tongue, this is one of several minis in the set where I think to myself "I can't believe this awesome mini is a common!"
Up next is the Redcap, a fey menace from real-world mythology with a long history in fantasy gaming. To my knowledge, no Redcap has previously appeared as a prepainted plastic miniature, which makes it a great addition to the Rise of the Runelords set. This little guy comes with the appropriate metal boots, oversized scythe, and the eponymous red cap. As fitting the Redcaps' role in the Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path Anniversary Edition campaign, we've slotted the Redcap in as a common, so you can easily collect a bunch of them.
That's it for this week's preview. The set contains at least two more size-Small figures, as well as a few more exciting surprises.
There's lots of great stuff yet to come! Enjoy the weekend, and don't forget to get in some gaming!
You've probably heard that Paizo is working with Goblinworks to produce Pathfinder Online, a massively multiplayer online roleplaying game. Goblinworks has been giving you snippets of our plans in the biweekly blog posts on goblinworks.com, and we've been getting your feedback on the Pathfinder Online messageboards here on paizo.com. Well, we're now ready to kick off the next phase of Pathfinder Online.
Today we announced a Kickstarter project to help us build the Pathfinder Online Technology Demo. Go take a look at the press release or visit the Kickstarter project page to find out what this Kickstarter is all about, and then come back here so I can share some details you'll want to know. Don’t worry, I’ll wait right here...
...Did you read it? Pretty darn cool, huh?
Goblinworks.com has its own blog today talking about the Kickstarter, so head over there when you're done here for more details on that. What I want to talk about here is the Thornkeep book!
Since the Pathfinder Online Technology Demo itself isn’t something that we can offer to Kickstarter patrons, we had to go outside the box for our Kickstarter rewards, and the Thornkeep book seemed like the perfect answer.
Thornkeep has a Pathfinder Online logo on the cover, but make no mistake—Paizo is handling this book just like any of our other Pathfinder products. It's set in the very same world of Golarion as our other roleplaying products, and contains 100% official Pathfinder campaign setting material for use with the Pathfinder RPG.
The first half of the 64-page Thornkeep book is a Pathfinder RPG sourcebook covering the town of Thornkeep and its surrounding area. Thornkeep is part of the River Kingdoms area, which is the setting for Pathfinder Online. (You could also drop Thornkeep into almost any wooded area in your own campaign setting.) As we mentioned in one of our earliest Pathfinder Online blog posts, Thornkeep is one of three starting locations for PCs in the MMO—it's the chaotic frontier town that Ryan dubbed our "hive of scum and villainy" (think a fantasy version of Deadwood). (You even helped us name Thornkeep in our first online poll!)
We thought it would be cool to allow folks to explore Thornkeep's various dark corners in their Pathfinder RPG sessions before Pathfinder Online is released. We will be using this book as our guide when we're building its digital equivalent. We're even going to have a small dungeon in this book that will map directly to the one featured in the Technology Demo. So not only will you be getting a guide to one of the towns in Pathfinder Online, but you'll also be getting the first look at how content from the RPG transitions to Pathfinder Online, as well as how content from the MMO might find its way to your gaming table!
Rich Baker, author of Thornkeep!
When we were looking for somebody to write the sourcebook material for us, we went to our good friend Rich Baker. This is Rich's first time working on Pathfinder, but he has been involved with classic D&D campaign settings from the Forgotten Realms to Birthright, and we figured it would be fun to see how he would approach Thornkeep! I've seen his partial turnovers already, and they're awesome!
So what about the second half of the book? That's going to be a behind-the-scenes look at the creation of Pathfinder Online, including excerpts from our internal design document, plus design sketches and early artwork for the MMO, as well as essays from Goblinworks and Paizo team members designed to give you insight into the making of the MMO. Consider this a backstage pass to all of the goings-on at Goblinworks!
Of course, we couldn’t have a cool product like this without a Wayne Reynolds cover. The cover image you see here is a mock-up—Wayne should have the real Thornkeep cover done by PaizoCon, and we plan to unveil it at our banquet!
Thornkeep isn't the only Kickstarter reward, though. There are lots of fun rewards for folks at all levels of pledge support! You could even come to Paizo for a day, play a Pathfinder game with your dream Paizo GM, and have a four-hour dinner with your GM, Goblinworks CEO Ryan Dancey, and myself. Check out all of the Kickstarter rewards and help us get to the next step in the development of Pathfinder Online. We wouldn’t be here without you!
The undead crocodile lashed out with its tail now, rather than its mangled jaw, and Ameyanda could not entirely avoid the blow. She staggered almost to the edge of the wobbling—and now disintegrating—tussock.
For an instant, she seriously considered drawing a mambele across her own throat. Considered, and dismissed.
If they keep me alive, that's their mistake.
Still, she'd prefer not to leave herself helpless. Again she cast about, desperate for any advantage...
And saw it, almost buried in the muck and sticks.
The White Leech who'd struck down Seyusth was moving in on her, again with club rather than blade raised. Even through the rain, the sour reek of old sweat, rotting teeth, and poorly tanned hides was worse than the undead.
She let the club come, raising crossed mambeles to parry only at the last instant, allowing the blow to send her sprawling.
Oh, Grandmother Sun, this is going to hurt!
Agony, white hot and piercing, as her hand came down upon the tiny prize she'd noted a moment earlier. It was crippling, nauseating; her whole body spasmed, and she could feel the object shifting inside the flesh of her palm.
But they wouldn't find it there, and the rain should wash away the worst of the blood before the enemy could grow suspicious.
Racked by pain, Ameyanda didn't have to fake helplessness as the White Leech swarmed over her, confiscating her weapons and tying her arms with rough hemp before dropping her like a sack of tubers into the massive skiff.
∗∗∗
She didn't pass out precisely, but the wash of pain, exacerbated by the rough handling, smothered her mind in a thick caul. It was some moments before she once more became aware of her surroundings.
She shivered, and realized that she lay in water two fingers deep—accumulation from the rain. She was lying on the deck of the skiff, which was now surging through the swamp with that unnatural speed she'd noticed earlier.
And now she saw how.
Clamped to the rear corners of the raft with thick iron spikes, a pair of undead torsos worked effortlessly and tirelessly with heavy poles to keep the craft in motion. Someone had taken a few sizable bites of excess flesh out of one of the torso's shoulders.
Swallowing bile, she scooted to look around. To her right lay one of the men the White Leech had attacked, also bound. Apparently hostilities had resumed after the mutual enemy was down. He sported fresh bite wounds, and was already shivering with fever.
Instinctively, she glanced down at her stomach and legs, searching for similar bites.
"You will not find any," breathed a weak voice from her left. "The obese one did that to him in battle, not after capture."
"Seyusth?" She twisted and flopped to face her companion. "Are you—oh, gods and spirits!"
"It appears," the lizardman said, "that the White Leech has experience countering a shaman's magics."
A pair of small logs had been lashed together with leather straps and hemp, forming a rough T.
And to that, Seyusth had been crucified.
A squared metal stake pinned both feet to the heavy branch. Each arm was nailed down with a length of iron curved in a rough U, penetrating palms and wrists both. Ugly, primitive sigils, etched in corrosion and flaking rust, wound in uneven spirals around the spikes.
No spellcasting, not without his hands. And no shape-changing, presumably, not pinned as he was. Amayanda needed no eldritch knowledge to sense the magics, cold and sickly, emanating from that profane iron.
She couldn't help him. All she could offer was the courtesy of not asking something stupid like, "Are you all right?"
Instead, she asked, "What do we know?"
"Galgur the Gullet always has room for one more prisoner."
Seyusth took a few deep breaths before answering. "Their leader is the big one. The men call him ‘Galgur the Gullet.' From what little I overheard, while he may answer to the White Leech chieftain..."
"Montirro the Thrice-Blind," Ameyanda reminded him.
"Yes. He may answer to this Montirro, but not often. His band controls this region of White Leech domain with relative autonomy."
"Good. I thought we were in trouble there, for a moment."
The lizardman couldn't muster a laugh, but his snout pulled back from his teeth in what Ameyanda assumed was a polite grin.
"Issisk?" she asked after a moment's pause.
"Not here. I never saw the unliving one close, but he appeared the wrong build to be Issisk."
Ameyanda nodded, shifted without thinking, then gasped at the renewed pain.
"I am sorry," Seyusth told her.
"It's not as though I could expect you to rush to help me," she said, struggling for a light tone.
"No. It is my fault you are here. My fault either of us had to be here."
"How is that, precisely?" This was starting to sound disturbingly like a deathbed confession—did lizardfolk do that?—but Ameyanda hardly cared what he was saying. As long as he kept speaking, he was conscious; as long as he was conscious, he wasn't dead.
"Years ago, emissaries of the Terwa Lords approached us. They wanted Haa-Ok to serve them, as a—a stepping stone—in Mwangi. I opposed this, as did many others. To join with the Terwa would be to betray our traditions, our heritage; to become something the world never intended of us. But I was merely an apprentice shaman, and my protests carried little weight. My mentor, Errash, supported the alliance. Further, he claimed the spirits of the Expanse supported it as well."
Seyusth's words were coming slower, now, between heaving, labored breaths. "After several moons of debate and consideration, Haa-Ok sent some of our own to announce our assent to the Terwa Lords. The band was led by Hasseth, our greatest warrior, as a sign of respect. I was to go with them as well, to offer what magical protections I could along the way.
"I proved insufficient. Perhaps we took too long for the Terwa's liking? Perhaps they had some other plot. We never knew. We were attacked along the way; only I survived, due to my magics, and then only barely. But worse, when I finally made my way home, I found that Errash had been slain in his sleep! No agent of the Terwa should have proved able to infiltrate our home, murder our shaman, and depart undetected!
"It could only mean that the spirits had removed their protections from him. They could not, after all, favor such a hideous alliance. Some good came from the catastrophe, then, for while a few of my people still argue, even to this day, to join the Terwa, most are wise enough to heed the spirits' signs."
Seyusth lapsed into a fit of coughing, which in turn tugged at the spikes and set his wounds bleeding anew. Several of the men up front glanced their way, attracted by the sudden spasm. A few laughed; one flicked his tongue in and out, like a reptile.
"How does that make what happened to Issisk your fault?" she insisted. Keep talking. Stay awake...
"I... After becoming shaman to Haa-Ok, I spoke long about the evils of the Terwa Lords and those who follow them. And many of our youth took those lessons deeply to heart. We sent hunting bands far from our territories, in part, to patrol against Terwa incursion from the Sodden Lands. And Issisk's band... I found them well beyond their accustomed terrain. I fear they went looking for the enemy, and it was this that brought them to the White Leech."
"And we're so delighted it did!"
The voice was soft—not with kindness, but like a smothering pillow—and high as a young girl's. Ameyanda looked up at the obese bulk that now kept much of the rain from her skin; she could not even imagine how a body that fleshy could approach so quietly. Or without rocking the entire skiff.
He squatted so that the jiggling of his thighs threatened to slap against their feet. Ameyanda could smell not merely sweat, but mildew and the seepage of open sores.
She could see, too, the cause of his misshapen jaw. His teeth had been removed and replaced, via foreign magics or surgeries, with twin ridges of serrated bone.
As much to keep from gagging as anything else, Ameyanda spoke. "‘Delighted'? Why?"
Galgur ignored the question. "Did we hear," he asked Seyusth, "that you dislike the Terwa lizards? Oh, that's really too bad, since we'll be trading you to them. Not for a while, though. We've a friend who would dearly love to speak with you first!"
The shaman hissed, deep in his throat.
"And you two..." He turned to Ameyanda and the other captive. "We'll put you in the swamp for a time. You'll be so much more succulent after you've softened and ripened!"
It wasn't the laughter and cheers of the White Leech that sent a shiver through Ameyanda's spine, but the string of anticipatory drool that dangled from Galgur the Gullet's maw.
∗∗∗
The village had been built in part on a gentle hillside. It had probably been beautiful, pastoral gardens and fields of crops. But that was before the coming of the eternal storm.
Now most of it was permanently submerged, the wooden buildings rotted to skeletons of what they'd been. A few, however, stood tall enough, and high enough on the hill, that a story or two protruded from the swamp. These, too, harbored the restless stench of decay and rough smears of various molds. Still, with the use of uncountable patches and slapdash repairs, they remained good enough for some.
Galgur's faction of the White Leech called them home.
They'd approached the hillside through a veritable thicket of peculiar reeds. Protruding stiffly, reaching almost a man's height above the waters, they didn't appear remotely natural to their surroundings.
And now Ameyanda knew why.
"We'll put you in the swamp for a time. You'll be so much more succulent after you've softened and ripened!"
Despite her best efforts, or the shame it brought, she'd finally panicked. First the bag, yanked over her head and sealed around the neck with some viscous sludge. It smelled of light tanning and animal fat, and it had one of those long reeds—long, hollow reeds—protruding from one side.
And then she'd felt herself manhandled, strapped by leather cords to a heavy log, and tossed in to lie amidst the others.
They didn't even mean to kill her first. Let her lie, submerged in the marsh, half-buried in muck, until her waterlogged skin came loose on her flesh. Only then, she knew, would they haul her up—a primitive rope-and-pulley system dangled from an overhanging cypress branch—to feast.
So yes, as the world went away save for the sound of the torpid waters beyond the bag and the patter of rain on the surface, gradually slowing as the squall finally passed, she'd thrashed, bucked, screamed in panic.
But only for a moment.
No large animals, was her first rational thought. Galgur and his men wouldn't want anything to rob them of a meal, so they must have some means of keeping the bigger predators away from their "crop." Nets in the water, perhaps. It meant there was nothing—well, nothing large enough to kill her outright—to be attracted by the blood.
And there would be a lot of blood.
Ameyanda pulled her left wrist toward her shoulder, as far as the straps would allow—and then kept pulling. For minutes beyond count, she pressed the ball of her hand against the leather, against the soft wood of the log. The pain was enough to draw another scream. So be it; let them think she howled in terror, if they could hear at all through the breathing reed.
She pushed; she twisted. And slowly, agonizingly, the jagged crocodile tooth—one she'd knocked from the unliving creature's mouth, the thing she'd deliberately fallen upon and concealed within her own meat—slid from her skin.
She'd expected that she might need to free herself of bonds; she'd never begun to imagine the circumstances in which that need would arise.
Her fingers seized up, twitching, and she almost dropped it. The breath caught in her throat as she bobbled at it, and she almost cried in relief when she once more held it firm. The hand was weak, limp with pain and a growing infection she could already feel.
But it would do. It had to do.
In tiny twitches, Ameyanda began to run the edge of the tooth over the leather, again and again.
∗∗∗
"I know what you did."
It was hearing his own language, more than the words themselves, that yanked Seyusth awake through the fog of pain. The room smelled of rotten wood, and as he pried his eyes open, he could see huge blotches of mold and water damage on the walls.
The room was also at a slight angle—no, he was at a slight angle. They hadn't even bothered to stand the stake to which he was crucified straight up; just leaned it in the corner.
And then full awareness finally flooded through him, and he lowered his gaze to the one who'd addressed him.
"Issisk! Leaves and scales, you live!"
The younger lizardfolk stood in the chamber's open doorway, perhaps a bit scrawnier than Seyusth recalled, but healthy enough. He nodded once, but otherwise offered no response.
"They allow you to move freely?" Seyusth asked.
"Largely. They keep eyes on me, to ensure I do not attempt to leave, but otherwise I do as I will."
"A strange sort of imprisonment."
"And what makes you believe I am a prisoner, Seyusth?"
It was, somehow, shocking to the core of his soul and the precise answer he'd anticipated, both at once. "I don't understand. Issisk, why—?"
"They needed another of our people," Issisk said, his voice oddly flat, even for a reptile. "They grew accustomed to having one of us work alongside them, to serve as spy in Terwa territory, or negotiator with their patrols, or scout who could swim farther than any human."
"Accustomed to..." Seyusth was feeling dizzy, and not only from his wounds or the precarious angle.
"The one who had been with them was dying. They were hunting our kind when they came across my patrol. I was the fortunate survivor, and I chose cooperation over consumption. And I had some time to converse with my tribesmate before he died of his illness."
"Who... Who was...?"
"I thought you would never ask."
Issisk stepped aside, and a second lizardman strode—no, shambled—through the door. The dull scales and gaping holes were sufficient to tell Seyusth that this was the undead who had attacked him in the swamp.
But this near, he could also see details he'd missed at the time—including a face that, though partially worn away, he recognized.
"Oh, spirits. Hasseth..."
"As I said, murderer," the younger one hissed, "I know what you did."
Coming Next Week: The gritty, rain-soaked conclusion of Ari Marmell's "Hell or High Water."
Ari Marmell is an author and game designer, and has written extensively for Dungeons & Dragons, Magic: The Gathering, World of Darkness, and more. His novels include the independent dark fantasy novels The Conqueror's Shadow and The Warlord's Legacy, the young adult fantasy Thief's Covenant, and the morbidly humorous The Goblin Corps, among others. For more information, see his website at mouseferatu.com.
Some time ago I played in a campaign that Jason Bulmahn was running. One of the many highlights of the campaign was Chuko. This was James Jacobs's tengu character, who always shouted "Wark!" when he was excited. My whole conception of tengus comes from Chuko. They are strange little creatures that steal and mark things with flags. Tengus can be unreasonable and stupidly heroic. Chuko was not the sharpest egg in the nest, just a strange little outcast in a far-off land. James played it to the hilt. If you get the chance to play Pathfinder with James, make him play a tengu. Oh, and make him wear a silly hat.
Sorry for the last bit, James.
When it came to reviewing the tengu section of Advanced Race Guide, there was a lot that made me shout, "Wark!" I think Chuko would approve! Now I want to play a tengu.
Here are just a few highlights from the section.
Tengu Equipment
Tengus have access to the following equipment.
Illustration by Paul Guzenko
Signal Kite Kit: Though wingless, tengus have long cast their thoughts toward the sky and flight. Built from paper glued to bamboo frames, their kites are painted with various colors and pictures. In addition to flying kites as a leisure activity, tengus also fly kites of various shades and patterns to send signal messages. Tengus have developed an extensive code of signals and can use their kites to display complex messages visible at great distances. A signal kite kit includes six small colored kites that can be hooked together in different patterns to facilitate complex messages. The kit also includes a spool and 300 feet of twine. Sending or interpreting a signal kite's message functions as described in the Bluff skill, but the sender and anyone trying to understand the message must also know Tengu.
Terror Kite: This small kite is usually painted with a fierce face and bright colors and is edged with serrated wooden blades. Its twine is strengthened by soaking it in glue and sometimes with crushed glass to give it a slight cutting edge. The kite has hardness 5 and 3 hit points. Participants in a kite battle make alternating sunder combat maneuvers against each other's kites; each successful maneuver allows a competitor to roll 1d6 points of damage against the opponent's kite. When a kite reaches 0 hit points, it is broken or its string is cut, and its player loses the match. In some matches, points are awarded for touching the kite's top to the opponent's string, with the winner being the first to reach a set point total. Those interested in kite-fighting may select the terror kite as a weapon for the purpose of feats such as Weapon Focus and Weapon Specialization, and apply these bonuses on kite damage rolls and on their sunder combat maneuver attempts made while using terror kites.
Tengu Feats
Tengu have access to the following feats.
Long-Nose Form
You can shift into the form of a human with an unusually long nose. Prerequisites: Character level 3rd, tengu. Benefit: Once per day, you can assume the form of a human whose nose is the length of your beak. This spell-like ability functions as alter self with a caster level equal to your level. While in this form you gain the scent ability and a +2 bonus to your Strength score. Because your long nose in this form clearly indicates you are not fully human, you do not gain the normal bonus to Disguise checks for using a polymorph effect (however, you could possibly explain the nose as an unfortunate curse or deformity, or hide it with an item such as a plague doctor's mask).
Tengu Spells
Tengus have access to the following spells.
Theft Ward School abjuration; Level cleric 1, inquisitor 1, sorcerer/wizard 1, witch 1 Casting Time 1 standard action Components V, S Range touch Target one object Duration 1 day
You ward a single object in your possession against theft. You gain a +10 bonus on Perception checks to notice someone trying to take the object from you.
Hey! Tell us what you want to see next. We want to know what you're excited about.
Pathfinder Society in Croatia, Bosnia, and Slovenia (or South Eastern Europe Calling)
Monday, May 7, 2012
Last month, we highlighted Denmark and Venture-Captain Diego Winterborg's efforts to grow Pathfinder Society there. We now shift our focus to southeast Europe. Venture-Captain Zrinka Znidarcic's report on Pathfinder Society in Croatia, Bosnia, and Slovenia was a very interesting read for me and I hope all of you find it interesting as well.
It is interesting being a Venture-Captain of the only multinational region that encompasses three different countries (one of them being in the European Union). But, here we are, after barely 9 months of Pathfinder Society presence and it's already been a wild ride. From what I can tell, this presence promises to continue and grow.
Geographically speaking, Croatia is a small sliver of a country squished between Slovenia to the northwest and Bosnia and Herzegovina to the southeast. The capital of Croatia is Zagreb and this is the home base for Pathfinder Society in the tri-country region.
It all started like anywhere else—with a home group and an overeager GM. I started gaming in 1996. After many years of playing, graduating from the university, moving back home, and trying to find somebody to GM fantasy roleplaying games, I learned that the only way to make anything happen game-wise was to go ahead and do it (contrary to my usual disposition). I started my GMing career in 2003, and as soon as Pathfinder Roleplaying Game appeared, we switched all the characters and never looked back, going on to play Pathfinder Adventure Paths (which we still do to this day).
At the time, Croatian fantasy fandom had just two significant gaming conventions—Sferakon (the oldest Croatian convention established in 1979) and Istrakon (established in 2000). At some point, Sferakon had organized RPG events, but none since 2002. Most people were quite happy with having home groups and there was little organized public play.
With only two gaming stores that didn't do so well—one closing its business and the other changing owners a few times and giving up on ordering RPG books—there was no local support for RPGs.
The region didn't fare well either. Our northern neighbor, Slovenia, organized several gaming conventions that didn't really take root and the fandom had retreated mostly into individual home groups. Bosnia and Herzegovina is still an unconquered land with almost no RPG players I am aware of (please email me if you live there and are interested in organizing Pathfinder Society).
But, several things happened. A lecture on the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game at Istrakon 2010, followed by two tables of demo scenarios, gained traction and interest and we had a fair number of interested players at Istrakon 2011. At the end of August, my Venture-Lieutenant, Maja Skvorc, and I announced the first PFS event in the only friendly local gaming store, Carta Magica. We just wanted to see what would happen. With over 20 people showing it for that first game day, it was clear there was a real interest for the Pathfinder RPG and Pathfinder Society in Zagreb.
Currently using Carta Magica as the base for regular weekly sessions, we now count on three tables (generally 12–16 players) on regular basis. Higher-level characters are still a small minority so we've just started scheduling one table for them. With the fluctuation of players, we already have more than 70 people signed up on Warhorn.net for our scheduled events. It is also interesting to note that most players are in their mid-twenties and younger, and among the GMs, we have both experienced and new ones. In fact, several of the most active GMs started playing tabletop roleplaying games initially with Pathfinder Society.
Meanwhile, in Zagreb, a group formed in 2011 called SRP (Section for Roleplay) founded by Ana Rajner and Bozo Spoljaric. This was the first such group dedicated to roleplaying games of all kinds (tabletop and LARPs) with the goal of promoting and enabling play. Besides regular lecture-a-week (Pathfinder RPG was their first), they also started organizing Game Days every 2 to 3 months. This is where Croatian Pathfinder Society attracts the largest numbers of players. So far, we have hosted three such events and we see promise of even greater growth.
Another association is being established as we speak at Igranje.org. They not only have tabletop games as primary interest, but will also be able to provide completely free venue for Pathfinder Society Organized Play.
It is really amazing to watch how tabletop gaming has emerged in Croatia during the last year, and hopefully this is just the beginning.
Istrakon 2012 featured the first multiplayer session, Year of the Shadow Lodge, and was the first big convention with a strong organized play presence. With 12 tables in 2 days, it was a great success.
This year, Sferakon was the host of Eurocon 2012 on April 26–29. Being mostly a literary convention, never known for any significant gaming program, it was a great start for Pathfinder Society at the oldest Croatian convention. Most importantly, a group of Slovenian players were present all 3 days. They are more than willing to start growing Pathfinder Society in Slovenia and we're already making plans for the first Pathfinder Society event there.
The future looks bright and interest in the game keeps growing as more people are coming back to the hobby. Two new regional conventions have been announced, one in Sarajevo this summer and one in Slovenia this November, and that will be an excellent chance to start increasing Pathfinder Society outside our home base.
In the end I want to send a huge thank you to all the GMs for their hard work, to all the players who are the lifeblood of Pathfinder Society, and all the organizers who give us the support to share the hobby we all love. I want to especially thank Mike for having the faith in us and giving this weird little region a chance.
If you are in another country and do not have a Venture-Captain, but think you can do as good a job as Zrinka did above, please do not hesitate to send me a write-up about Pathfinder Society play in your area of the world and include some photos.
Mike Brock Pathfinder Society Campaign Coordinator
Pathfinder Battles Preview: The Gross, the Bad, and the Ugly
Friday, May 4, 2012
We're getting close to having revealed all of the miniatures in the upcoming Pathfinder Battles set, Rise of the Runelords! It seems like only a few weeks ago that I started showing of sculpts and paint masters, but in fact it's been months, and as I type this the production run of miniatures is trundling through the factory. All of the paint schemes have been approved, all the decisions have been made, and now all that's left is the waiting for the early August release.
Well, the waiting and a few more previews, that is!
Two weeks ago I promised something ugly, and today I'm fulfilling that dark pledge with three figures from the murkier side of the set. These are nasty dudes you definitely don't want to run into in a dark alley, and all three of them make creepy additions to your game table.
Up first is the Ogrekin, a nasty in-bred half-ogre whose clan is the centerpiece of “The Hook Mountain Massacre,” the third chapter in the Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path. With rippling muscles and a deformed (really gross) head, this bruiser wanders the wilderness looking... well, let's just say he's “looking for love,” and leave it at that. This common miniature is technically Medium-sized, but he's pushing the top-end of that scale, and makes for a really intimidating figure.
Faceless Stalkers were created in ancient times by the mysterious aboleths as interlocutors with the various air-breathing races of the surface world. Via a painful biological process, the creatures can warp and contort their form to take on the appearance of an enemy. When not pretending to be your wife or best friend, these guys run around in the gross, misshapen form revealed here. The photograph above doesn't quite show off the nasty detail of reddish ink in all of the nooks and fleshy crannies along this guy's skin (especially on his back). The Faceless Stalker is statted up in Bestiary 2, but even if you don't have that resource, this common figure doubles as any kind of hideous humanoid. Ick!
Last up today we have a friendly neighborhood initiate in the local cult of homicidal slasher maniacs, known to the denizens of Varisia as the Skinsaw Cultist! This common figure makes a nice rank-and-file cultist. His skinsaw mask and war razor root him firmly in the Pathfinder Campaign Setting, while his robes and general creepiness make him a good troop-builder for a wicked cult in any campaign.
That's it for this week. I've only got a few more sculpts to show off, but I promise that some absolutely amazing stuff is still waiting to be shown! Come back next week for another early look at Rise of the Runelords Pathfinder Battles miniatures!
"I know that the Imjaka, dwelling so near those reaches, have made a greater study of these ‘scavenger gangs' than I," Seyusth continued. "That, Ameyanda, is why I come to you, though finding you proved far from simple."
This time, Ameyanda didn't bother to suppress her sigh. "All right," she said, once more hefting her pack. "Lead the way, shaman, and tell me what you know."
Seyusth spoke of his travails as they began to walk, and the huntress—so far as her exertions allowed—listened.
"It was over half a moon," he explained, "before we realized that the hunting patrol was overdue. Another moon, and more, before I could make my own apprentice ready to see to Haa-Ok's needs during my prolonged absence. And then, as I told you, almost another moon still before I finally tracked down the remains of Issisk's band."
"Remains?" If this lizard is hauling me into the Sodden Lands to retrieve a body...
"A smattering of parts, not entirely rotted into the soil. No intact bodies, and no remaining tracks. So I spoke a time with the serpents and birds and toads of the area."
"Of course. Who wouldn't?"
"It was then I learned that Issisk was led away in chains, the others slain and their bodies taken. And I learned that the attackers were not my people but humans, both living and unliving."
Ameyanda staggered to a halt, her skin breaking out in goosebumps despite the sapping heat. She swallowed hard. "Unliving? Your cousin was taken by the dead-who-walk?" She'd never faced such horrors herself, but the folklore of her people was rife with them.
"Alongside the living, yes."
She felt her lips moving in silence. Seyusth watched her, unblinking.
"Does this pose a problem for you?" he asked finally.
"A problem? I think this is a bit more severe than a ‘problem'!" Still, it was enough to stiffen her resolve. She'd almost announced that she was going back, but no.
The Imjaka repay our debts. Ameyanda would not be the one to violate that tradition, no matter what.
Especially not when that one detail—the presence of the dead-who-walk—was indeed sufficient to suggest to her which of the savenger gangs they sought.
The White Leech. Grandmother Sun, help us...
"Seyusth is a powerful shaman, but woefully ignorant regarding the Sodden Lands."
"All right, shaman. Follow me; I know who you're searching for."
They trekked beneath shrouding canopies of leaves and low-hanging lianas, over fallen logs and rotten fungi, through brambles and ferns glistening with condensation and sticky secretions. Seyusth slipped through without effort; thorns and foliage ran off him like water. Ameyanda, for all her skill, had a harder time. More than one scrape or sting brought a grunted curse, and her resentful gaze on the lizardman's back nearly set his vest to smoldering.
Embarrassment, more than pain, chafed her. It had been many years since Ameyanda had required anyone else to slow their passage through even the wildest jungle.
"You are certain this White Leech is the band we seek?" Seyusth asked.
"They're the only border scavengers who make use of the dead-who-walk. Rumor and tales have it that their chieftain, Montirro the Thrice-Blind, learned his necromancies from the Koboto people themselves."
"I had heard that the Koboto sacrifice anyone who nears their lands."
"True."
"Then how—?"
Ameyanda shrugged. "As I said, rumor and tales. But that the White Leech raises the dead is no mere tale. I know warriors who have seen it themselves."
"But can you be certain the White Leech is the only such band?" he pressed.
"As certain as you can be that Issisk still lives."
The following miles passed without further conversation.
∗∗∗
They crossed no border. No fences, no signposts; no mighty river or towering escarpment marked the transition.
The trees grew sparser, their roots and branches more crooked. Fern leaves and winding briars gave way to hanging mosses and slender reeds. The lush scent of loam and sprouting things wafted away beneath the odor of rot and stagnant pools.
The mud grew thicker, more greedy as it tugged at scaled or sandal-wrapped heels. Worse, it became vaguely caustic, just enough to cause irritation and a sanity-threatening itch.
By the time they'd passed beyond the mud flats into the swamp proper, the filthy, lukewarm water was almost a relief.
This far from the sea and the eternal hurricane dubbed the Eye of Abendego, the Sodden Lands were indeed simply a swamp, if a swamp with abnormally deep patches and river-like currents. Ameyanda knew that the further west they progressed, the worse it would become. Mires of impossible size, plague-bearing floodwaters as deep as any lake, a barrage of wind and rain so constant as to wear down the heaviest stone.
They shouldn't have to go so far—to the huntress's knowledge, the White Leech operated primarily here in the outskirts—but even this was far from pleasant.
When the shallow marsh began to develop waves high enough to slap at her chest, and a tepid, breath-like gust began to herald the promise of rain, Ameyanda pulled a face and reached out to stop her companion in his tracks. Already she had to raise her voice to be heard over the building winds.
"We're not going much farther in this without a raft of some sort," she told him, running a hand through the stubble on her scalp. It itched, and retained a surprising amount of water, but she hadn't had the opportunity to shave her head in days.
Seyusth stepped aside to haul a thick vine from a nearby cypress. "Use this to secure yourself."
"Secure myself to wh-augh!"
Ameyanda leapt backward, splashing murky water in all directions, as the shaman shifted. One moment, a lizardman; the next, over the span of seconds, his limbs drew into his body and thickened, his torso elongated, his snout lengthened. His pebbly flesh bulged in some spots, smoothed in others.
Lurking in the water, eyes and nostrils protruding menacingly, was a full-sized crocodile.
"Warn me before you do that!"
The crocodile, in a very familiar and languid expression, blinked.
"You can't speak when you've turned yourself into an animal?"
Blink.
"Oh." Ameyanda stepped forward—less gingerly than she felt—looped the vine around the reptile's chest, and climbed aboard. Not the most comfortable mount, but it must beat walking.
After hours of being tossed about by the beast's wriggling swim, her arms and legs bruised raw against its knobby hide and savaged mercilessly by vermin both above the water and below, she wasn't so sure of that anymore.
Early the following day—not that one could tell it was day, given that the pounding rains still hadn't moved on—Seyusth apparently scented or detected something. With an abrupt twitch that nearly unseated his partner, the crocodile shot through the swamps on a new course.
Ameyanda, who knew that asking him what they were doing was a waste of time and breath, instead wasted that same time and breath in a litany of curses.
A reed-covered hillock was their destination. Seyusth had barely climbed atop the rise before shifting back into his natural shape. Anyone with lesser reflexes than the huntress would have been sent sprawling.
"You have some steed etiquette to master," she groused at him. "Why—?"
"There." Black talons pushed a tuft of reeds so she could see. "Are those White Leech?"
In what amounted to a wide corridor of swamp hemmed in by cypress walls, a pair of skiffs moved sluggishly across the water. The wood of the haphazard vessels was stained with old blood—old and dry enough that the rain washed absolutely none of it away. The men aboard were clad in tatters and leather scraps, held together by everything from cowhide straps to sodden twine, and armed with roughly hammered and sharpened scrap metal. One man poled each of the skiffs, while the others argued over the choicest cuts of... something that had once drawn breath.
"Difficult to tell," Ameyanda told him, struggling to peer through the downpour. "We're in their territory, but I wouldn't know how to tell the White Leech by sight. They... No," she said with sudden certainty. "They're not White Leech."
"How do you know?"
"Because," she said, pointing at the ominous shapes suddenly looming from the corridor of trees, or rising from beneath the swamp to surround the skiffs and their frantic crew, "I'm fairly sure those are the White Leech."
They seemed no more than phantoms, obscured by the downpour. Some of the silhouettes that formed from within the trees, or from deep within the murky waters, appeared humanoid. Others were most assuredly nothing of the kind.
That the first group they'd spotted were thrown into utter panic by the arrival of the second was clear enough, but precisely who the newcomers were, or what about them was so horrifying, neither the brown-skinned huntress nor the green-scaled shaman could see.
The feeblest remnants of what might have been shouts or screams drifted through the downpour.
"We must get nearer!" Seyusth yelled in her ear.
"How wise of you, great shaman," Ameyanda retorted with bitter sarcasm. "And how do you suggest we..." But the lizardman had already dived into the choppy swamp.
"Spirit-damned lizard," she hissed at the fading ripples. He'd retained his natural shape, but even so, Ameyanda knew she couldn't match his speed in the water. Still grumbling under her breath, she hung her quiver of spears across the thickest reeds—the weapons would just float away anyway—checked that both mambeles were snug in their sheathes, and waded reluctantly into the waters.
Even over the course of only a few dozen paces, the treacherous mud, the submerged and rotting logs, and the abnormal waves conspired to constantly alter the depth of the swamp. At times she was submerged to the waist; at others, the crests of those waves passed over her head, slapping her across the face with filthy water and reeking algae. Still, she preferred to wade, though she was a strong swimmer; she wanted to keep her feet under her and her eyes at least mostly clear.
She finally clambered once more onto a solid surface—a floating tussock of sticks, moss, and mud—and spent a moment gasping for breath, coughing up water, and trying with all her might to strangle the lizardman with her eyes. "Some of us," she began, "do not swim like—"
"Look."
Whatever protests remained died in Amayanda's throat.
One of the primitive skiffs had already been overturned, partly smashed to kindling by a reptilian juggernaut of flaking scales and protruding bone. Two more crocodiles—though these two were alive—had surfaced alongside the undead monstrosity to snap at men in the water. Nearby, bobbing almost peacefully in the currents and waves, five of the dead-who-walk, naked and sloughing waterlogged flesh, advanced on the remaining raft.
Beyond those, the huntress could begin to make out the details of the larger force emerging from the tree line. A skiff of prodigious size, stained white, led the way, followed by two of more traditional girth. The men standing on those skiffs, hooting worse than the charau-ka and waving rusted blades overhead, wore leather armor clearly formed from a wide variety of creatures. Not a single greave, spaulder, or breastplate matched any other, and while some were obviously crafted from the tanned hides of swamp beasts—crocodiles and great snakes, primarily—others appeared mammalian and even, on occasion, humanoid in origin. A few of the latter still sported locks of hair, flapping wildly in the rain.
At the forefront, bellowing to shame an enraged elephant, was the most monstrous man—if man he was—Ameyanda had ever seen. Easily half again as tall as she and monstrously obese, he must have outweighed any three of the others put together. Rolls of fat, maggot-pale and glistening with rainwater, bulged from between the slapdash components of his armor. He carried a hammer, its head large enough for a halfling to have used as an anvil, waving it about with apparent ease. His head and jaw seemed subtly misshapen, but that could have been an illusion of distance, combined with his straggly, sickly hair—thinning up front, hanging to his shoulder blades behind.
That mass of flesh and his smaller allies blocked Ameyanda's sight of whoever or whatever poled the skiff from the rear, but it shot forward with startling speed, seeming to crush the waves before it. Already they were near enough to their victims for the most lithe of the White Leech warriors to leap from one raft to the other.
"We," Seyusth announced suddenly, a gleam in his golden eyes, "could certainly do with local allies. The enemy of my enemy, as your people say..."
Had Ameyanda not been so astonished, so horrified and repulsed, by the blasphemies of the White Leech—had she not still been trying to gather her breath—she might have stopped him. As it was, by the time she registered what he was doing, it was already too late.
"Seyusth! Damn it!"
The shaman rose, arms held high. The combatants might not have noticed his appearance, distracted as they were, until the first of the lightning bolts roared from the heavens.
Several of the White Leech fell to the deck of the skiff or into the ever-hungry waters, their bodies blackened. Their gelatinous mountain of a leader recoiled, one arm raised to protect his face. The skin along that arm, and across his gut, turned red, then black, but he hardly seemed to notice.
Almost immediately, every eye present scanned their surroundings and fixed on Seyusth. Though the attack had not come from him directly, nobody was stupid enough to think the stroke a coincidence.
The lizardman opened his mouth, perhaps to shout something to the men he'd meant to rescue, when the entire mass of humanity and undead—including those whom the White Leech had just been slaughtering—began shoving their rafts through the water, closing on the startled shaman.
"The scavenger gangs," Ameyanda hissed through heaving breaths, "always band together against outsiders!"
"I see..."
"Get us out of here!"
Seysuth stepped to the far side of the floating tussock, presumably to once again assume his own crocodile form and carry them beyond the reach of the slower skiffs.
The undead crocodile erupted from the swamp like a breaching whale.
The snout, a battering ram of dead scales, rotting flesh, and stained bone, slammed the shaman backward to land sprawled, half in the swamp. It spun, its jaws a gaping pit to the Abyss. The overwhelming miasma of decay, to say nothing of the sprayed droplets of liquefying muscle, nearly paralyzed the Imjaka warrior.
Nearly.
Ameyanda leapt from the quivering mass of vegetation, tucking her knees high, just barely clearing the oncoming snout. Crying aloud, she kicked down with both legs, slamming the jaws together and down into the tussock. Now crouched atop the shambling horror, she drove both mambeles deep into its flesh.
Muscle tore; bone splintered; chipped teeth flew to land scattered amidst the twigs. For a living creature, a fatal blow.
For the unliving crocodile, an inconvenience.
"Seyusth!" She stepped off the mangled snout, blades raised. "I could do with some—"
The sound of splashing water, thrashing limbs, and the impact of something on roughened flesh suggested that the shaman had his own problems.
The crocodile snapped, attempting to skewer her with the edge of a broken jaw. Ameyanda backpedaled, seeking any escape, and glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Seyusth fall.
A handful of the dead-who-walk had followed their crocodilian ally through the waters and clambered atop the floating isle. One lay, truly dead, lacerated by the shaman's spear; another had been brought down by a second lightning bolt from on high. But even as Seyusth turned to handle a third, a head broke the surface of the swamp—a humanoid head not mammalian, but reptilian.
Seyusth froze, his whole expression slack. Ameyanda could only assume he was trying to tell if the unliving thing was the missing Issisk. And in that moment of distraction, one of the White Leech leapt from the skiff—gods and spirits, how did that ponderous vessel move so swiftly?—and slammed a thick cudgel into the lizardman's skull.
A cudgel... yet he carried a serrated falchion in his other hand.
Ameyanda saw the grin of the monstrous fat man, the clubs and ropes held by his fellows, and knew they had something far worse than a quick death in mind.
Coming Next Week: Capture by the scavenger gangs in Chapter Three of "Hell or High Water."
Ari Marmell is an author and game designer, and has written extensively for Dungeons & Dragons, Magic: The Gathering, World of Darkness, and more. His novels include the independent dark fantasy novels The Conqueror's Shadow and The Warlord's Legacy, the young adult fantasy Thief's Covenant, and the morbidly humorous The Goblin Corps, among others. For more information, see his website at mouseferatu.com.
Are you coming to PaizoCon 2012? Want to run one or more events during the show? Attendee event submission is now open! All you need to do is copy and paste the following event questionnaire into an email sent to events@paizo.com, and we'll consider your event for the convention. Make sure to answer all questions for every event you plan to run at Paizo Con.
This event submission process is for attendee-run games; don't submit Pathfinder Society events here. Once attendee event submission has closed on May 11, we'll schedule attendee events, special Paizo-staff games, panels, and other events into a master schedule that participants will select in the standard “event lottery” fashion.
For each event you'd like to run, please provide the following information:
Event Name
Event Description (up to 200 words)
Category (RPG/Workshop/Panel, etc.)
Organizer Name (include email address as registered on paizo.com)
Game Master Name
Game/Rules/System (3.5 OGL, Pathfinder RPG, etc.)
Game Edition (3.5 OGL, Pathfinder RPG, etc.)
Will you be providing pregenerated characters? (Yes/No)
Age Rating (10+, 13+, 17+, etc.)
Game Complexity (Normal, Hard, etc.)
Experience Required (Novice/Veteran/Varies, etc.)
Are there prizes awarded? (Yes/No)
Remember, please copy and paste the above 12 questions into your email for EACH event you plan to run at PaizoCon. Send your completed attendee event descriptions to events@paizo.com. Attendee event submissions are due 5/11/12, and the full event lottery will be posted shortly. Space is limited, so not all events will be scheduled.
We look forward to another great year at PaizoCon, and attendee events are a huge part of what makes the show so exciting! Make sure you get your details in soon, and we'll see you at PaizoCon 2012!
Jeff Alvarez Vice President of Operations
PS: Regularly scheduled Wednesday web fiction will go live tomorrow!
Everyone knows goblins have an unnatural love of fire. They love to see it flicker and burn to the sounds of their enemies' screams. While goblin adventurers, in an effort to get along with other more squeamish races, may control their pyromaniac urgings, others learn to harness that power and focus it into devastating force.
Of course, since the goblin section of the Advanced Race Guide has plenty of options for fiery destruction, an alchemist archetype focusing on fire seemed like a good fit, so this week we present you with the fire bomber. As you'll notice from this archetype, there are many more options for goblin mayhem in this book, from a host of feats to some new discoveries, but you will just have to wait until the book comes out to check those out.
Fire Bomber (Alchemist)
Fire bombers are exceptionally good at using bombs to burn creatures and blow things up, but are not quite as good at creating other types of bombs or extracts. A fire bomber has the following class features.
Weapon and Armor Proficiency: A fire bomber treats torches as a simple weapon.
Illustration by Andrew Hou
Fire Bombardier (Su or Ex): At 1st level, when a fire bomber throws a bomb that deals fire damage, all creatures in the splash radius take an additional point of damage per die of fire damage dealt. Fire bombers only add their Intelligence bonus to damage from bombs or alchemical substances that deal fire damage. This otherwise works like the alchemist's bomb and throw anything abilities. This ability alters bomb and throw anything.
Bonus Feats: A fire bomber can select the Burn! Burn! Burn!, Fire Tamer, or Flame Heart feat in place of a discovery.
Fiery Cocktail (Su): At 4th level, whenever a fire bomber uses a discovery that deals damage other than fire damage, he can split the damage dice evenly between the bomb's primary damage type and 1d6 points of fire damage; when there is an odd number of damage dice, the odd die of damage comes from the primary damage type. For example, an 8th-level fire bomber could throw a concussive bomb that deals 2d6 points of fire damage and 3d4 points of sonic damage. Additional effects from the bomb still apply, but the save DC for admixture bombs is reduced by 2. This replaces the alchemist's 4th-level discovery.
Fire Body (Ex): At 8th level, a fire bomber adds elemental body I to his extract list as a 3rd-level extract. Elemental body extracts prepared using fire body are limited to fire elementals only. This ability replaces poison resistance +6.
Improved Fire Body (Ex): At 10th level, fire bombers add elemental body II to their spell list as a 4th-level extract. Elemental body extracts prepared using improved fire body are limited to fire elementals only. This ability replaces poison immunity.
Greater Fire Body (Ex): At 14th level, fire bombers add elemental body IV to their spell list as a 5th-level extract. Elemental body extracts prepared using greater fire body are limited to fire elementals only. This ability replaces persistent mutagen.
Discoveries: The following discoveries complement the fire bomber archetype: fire brand, rocket bomb (see sidebar); explosive bombs, fast bombs, inferno bomb, precise bombs (Advanced Player's Guide); breath weapon bomb, explosive missile, immolation bomb (Ultimate Combat); bottled ooze, confusion bomb, strafe bomb (Ultimate Magic).
I took a break from the Gen Con push today to write this blog post, and my mind started to wander. I thought a bit about days gone by and how last year at this time we were under just as much pressure trying to get Ultimate Combat off to the presses in time. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Anyway, I also thought to myself, "Self, what sort of blog were you writing this time last year?"
"Aha!" myself answered. "I can do a search and find out!"
Now, those of you who've been following our Monday Pathfinder Society blog posts for a while likely remember this time in spring 2011, when we had a very lengthy series of posts covering "The Future of Pathfinder Society Organized Play." In fact, that series was when we started doing weekly posts and claimed Monday as our own special day of the week. So I checked back to Part VII of that series from May 2. And lo and behold, that was when we announced the title of the current season, the Year of the Ruby Phoenix.
"Self, you should do the same thing for Season 4 in your blog post for Monday," I said. And it seemed a reasonable suggestion, so I agreed.
Season 4 of the Pathfinder Society Organized Play campaign will be entitled Year of the Risen Rune. The focus of the season is going to be the Pathfinder Society's burgeoning lodge in the Varisian city of Magnimar—the focal point of the forthcoming Shattered Star Adventure Path, which also debuts at Gen Con 2012. While that Adventure Path won't be sanctioned for Pathfinder Society credit and won't use the faction system we have in the organized play campaign, there will be a lot of overlap between the Adventure Path and the Pathfinder Society campaign. So whatever campaign you play, you'll have lots of options for exploring the untamed frontier region of Varisia and the ancient Thassilonian ruins located there.
We'll have a lot more information about both the Shattered Star Adventure Path and the Year of the Risen Rune in the coming months, but until we get closer to the launch of these exciting adventures, check out the venture-captain who Pathfinder players of all ilks are likely to get to know very well—Sheila Heidmarch—and the Pathfinder Society season's shiny new logo.
Sheila Heidmarch Illustration by Kieran Yanner
The Year of the Risen Rune and the Shattered Star Adventure Path both launch at Gen Con 2012 this August!
I'm pleased to report that all but one of the miniatures in the Rise of the Runelords set have been approved (we're still tinkering with a final paint scheme on that last one to get it right), and we stand on the precipice of an important deadline. WizKids is about to order all of the paint for this set, so that the production run can begin in earnest. That means Rise of the Runelords miniatures will soon be spooling their way down the factory line, which means the set's August release is now visible on the horizon.
Last week, we posted images of the set's packaging to paizo.com, and it took an astute reader all of 11 minutes to realize that the packaging constituted a stealth preview of a previously unseen miniature, and revealed one of the big secrets of the Rise of the Runelords set.
As many of you know, we had to remove three Huge miniatures from the original set mix in order to keep production costs under control. Since I'd revealed the set included a Huge White Dragon in the very first raft of spoilers I leaked about the set here in this blog, and since we'd already revealed three Huge miniatures (the Treachery Demon, Lamia Harridan, and Storm Giant), many folks reasonably concluded that the fourth unrevealed Huge must be the aforementioned White Dragon.
Alas, as the packaging preview revealed, the Huge White Dragon will NOT be in the Rise of the Runelords set after all, as it was one of the three Huge miniatures we had to cut for cost reasons. The decision had nothing to do with the quality of the sculpt (which is EXCELLENT), but more to do with its versatility outside the Rise of the Runelords set. For we have every intention of releasing the White Dragon in an upcoming release, possibly sooner rather than later.
But some minis in this set are designed specifically for use with the Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path to the degree that moving them to another set simply isn't an option. The actual fourth Huge figure in the set is one such miniature. I give you, the Karzoug Statue:
Here we have the treacherous Karzoug, Runelord of Greed, the biggest of the big bads of the Rise of the Runelords campaign, come to life as a giant animated statue. When I say “giant,” I'm not kidding. The Karzoug Statue is the tallest and largest of the four Huge miniatures in the set, cutting an imposing figure appropriate for its role in one of the key climactic encounters of the entire Adventure Path. He's so big we actually had to change the Huge Booster packaging after we'd finished it just so he could actually fit in the box.
WizKids's sculptors and painters have done a fantastic job with this miniature, making it look like it is actually made of stone, with little cracks and weathering that add realism to this imposing figure. It looks a bit simple in the tiny photograph, but the detail on this giant miniature is amazing. Karzoug Statues generally come one per Huge case, making it a rare figure.
Next up we have Lamatar Bayden, a one-time commander of [SPOILER!] who saw better days as a hopeless romantic. Now, his command is lost, his romance is shattered, and he's trapped in the form of a hideous ice wight. Accordingly, WizKids sculpted this miniature in clear plastic. Lamatar's sharp icicle fingers and crown are completely clear, granting the rare miniature a (wait for it) chilling effect.
Lastly today we have one of the coolest miniatures in the set, The Mithral Mage! This remnant from the ancient empire of the Runelords has shiny mithral skin, which makes killing him a real pain late in the Rise of the Runelords campaign. The detailed paint steps on The Mithral Mage's costume really steal the show, here, and his dynamic pose perfectly suits his arrogant and imposing personality. He's a rare miniature, and one of the major villains of the last third of the campaign.
Looking over this blog, I'm reminded what a deadly and awesome campaign the Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path really is. I'm thrilled to get a chance to create a set of miniatures specifically to support the campaign, and I'm pleased that the 65-figure size of the set allows us the chance to include a few cool campaign-specific miniatures like the ones previewed in this blog.
Next week I think I'll jump back to monsters, and show off a few minis no one has even guessed are in the set, yet!
As 2004 opened, there was a cloud hanging over Paizo. The reality that Star Wars Insider and the Star Wars Fan Club were going away in a few short months really hit home. Star Wars accounted for more than half of Paizo's revenue, and supporting the company purely on income from Dragon and Dungeon wasn't going to work. I personally had two options. The easiest would be to shut down the company. As I mentioned in my first anniversary blog, it takes a long time to get paid for magazine sales, and while that makes starting up a magazine very difficult, it also means that if you stop publishing, money keeps coming in for almost a year. It would have taken a while, but eventually, we'd have been able to recoup most of the money that Vic and I had invested in Paizo.
The other, much more daunting option was to try to replace that lost revenue. Subscription and advertising revenue would dry up immediately, of course, and that would hurt a lot, but we would still be receiving big Star Wars Insider newsstand checks for almost a year after our final issue went out in April. That gave us some time to ramp up new business to replace the lost income. We had already launched Undefeated in 2003, and were hopeful that it would start to pick up some of the slack. The other arrow in our quiver was the venerable Amazing Stories magazine, which had been included in the license along with Dragon and Dungeon when we took over Wizards of the Coast's magazine business. Amazing Stories launched in 1926 as the world's first magazine dedicated to science fiction. TSR had acquired it in 1982 and published it for 13 years, putting it on hiatus just a couple of years before Wizards acquired TSR. Wizards almost immediately brought Amazing back, publishing it for about 3 years before resting it themselves in 2000. We decided to try to make it work yet again, with the staff from Star Wars Insider mostly moving directly to Amazing and Dave Gross becoming the magazine's 16th Editor-in-Chief.
This time, we had a slightly different plan. Amazing Stories had always focused almost entirely on prose fiction, with short stories making up the bulk of each issue. We wanted to continue running great original fiction, but we also wanted to cover the rest of sci-fi/fantasy genre: movies, TV shows, comics, video games, etc. We were hoping that we could make a magazine that appealed to fans of science fiction and fantasy, and that the expanded media coverage would make the magazine appealing to a larger advertising base.
Michonne Bourriague and Amy Allen pose with members of the 501st Legion at the Star Wars Fan Club Dinner With the Stars.
But before we relaunched Amazing, we needed to finish up our run on Star Wars Insider and the Official Star Wars Fan Club, and we didn't take that job any less seriously while our time was running out. In February, we held the first and only Fan Club Dinner with the Stars here in Seattle to coincide with Emerald City Comicon. Our guests were Michonne Bourriague (Aurra Sing in The Phantom Menace), and Amy Allen (Aayla Secura in Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith, which hadn't yet been released). In addition to dinner with the guests, attendees received a stash of Star Wars merchandise supplied by Paizo and Lucasfilm, and a special autographed souvenir photo ticket created just for the event (we still have a few of those for sale here on paizo.com).
Paizo's final issue of Star Wars Insider in April revealed Episode III villain General Grievous, who had previously only been seen in animated form. And as my reign as President of the Official Star Wars Fan Club concluded, I got a chance to go down to San Francisco and dig around in the Star Wars product archives, which was a real thrill for Vic and me as collectors.
With the loss of Star Wars, Dragon became king at Paizo, boasting both the largest number of subscribers as well as the best newsstand sales. Dragon #315 was the first issue ever published which had support for every D&D campaign setting—19 of them—from Forgotten Realms and Greyhawk to Red Steel and Hollow World. Dragon #319, coupled with its sister publication Dungeon #110, gave 3.5 DMs everything they might need to set a campaign in the world of Dark Sun. Dragon #320 celebrated the 30th anniversary of D&D with one of my favorite pieces of cover artwork ever!
Lisa Stevens at the Paizo booth sporting the Warduke T-shirt made for theDungeon relaunch and Erik Mona showing off the T-shirt designed for the relaunch of Dragon.
The biggest news for Dragon that year came at Gen Con, in the form of a relaunch that began with Dragon #323. We had heard from our readers that our issues were often too hit-or-miss for them—with narrow themes such as Dark Sun or ninjas, there was always some portion of the audience that wouldn't find it useful. And if a large enough group skipped a particular issue, we'd lose money on it. So our new goal was to provide something for everyone with every issue. Since many of Dragon's readers were players, we started the Class Acts section, which would include a short article for each of the core classes. We also put more consideration into balancing the types of articles that made up each issue to ensure that we didn't leave anyone out. For the most part, this seemed to really work, and Dragon's sales started to improve.
With the continuation of the Adventure Path concept we'd launched the previous year, things were also looking up for Dungeon. 2004 ended up being one of the most important years for the magazine, and its success eventually heralded Erik Mona's rise from Editor-in-Chief to Publisher and James Jacobs' rise from Associate Editor to Creative Director.
Dungeon #111 introduced the first-ever adventure for Eberron, and the following month saw Dungeon's most ambitious issue ever: Erik and James worked with Gary Gygax and Robert J. Kuntz to revise and expand Kuntz's famous Maure Castle superdungeon. This issue also marked the first and only time that Dungeon had just one massive adventure packed between the covers.
The Undefeated cheerleaders and the temporary tattoos from Gen Con 2004.
At Gen Con, Dungeon also had a relaunch with issue #114, with even bigger changes than we'd made in Dragon. First off, Polyhedron went away as the companion offering to each Dungeon issue. This was significant to Erik especially, as he had come up through the ranks as Polyhedron's Editor-in-Chief, and the magazine held an important place in his heart. But readers were making it clear to us that Polyhedron was a very divisive feature, and if we wanted to give Dungeon a chance to catch up to its more successful brother, Polyhedron had to go.
We also moved Dungeon to a format that featured one low-level, one mid-level, and one high-level adventure in each issue. This gave DMs a treasure trove of adventure content that ensured there was something that could fit their campaigns no matter what levels they were currently playing. In addition to the three adventures, Dungeon would now feature new campaign content in each issue. Dungeon #114 revisited the Isle of Dread and saw the start of Monte Cook's "Dungeoncraft" and Wil Wheaton's "Wil Save" columns. It also featured the very popular "Mad God's Key," the first published work by Jason Bulmahn. The end of 2004 saw the final adventure in the Shackled City Adventure Path and the start of the well-received three-part Greyhawk Istvin series.
Undefeated magazine grew a little bit, finding new subscribers and appearing in a few more mass-market outlets. However, we were still having trouble getting the traction that we really needed in our key market: hobby game stores. At Gen Con, we had Paizo's most controversial promotion ever: the Undefeated cheerleaders, who applied Undefeated temporary tattoos to con-goers arms. It definitely helped drive traffic to the Paizo booth, even if not everyone was happy about us having "booth babes."
Spider-Man adorns the first Paizo issue of Amazing Stories.
Amazing Stories launched in September, though we offered a sneak peek at Gen Con in August. The first issue showed off Amazing's new look with a Spider-Man movie cover. It also had my favorite thing we published in Amazing Stories: Dave Gross had devised a column called "1,000 Words," where we would provide a writer with a picture, and they would write a story using—you guessed it—1,000 words. Harlan Ellison—er, sorry... "Harlan Ellison®"—was pegged to write the first installment, but due to a miscommunication, he wrote only 100 words. When we pointed out the problem, Harlan befuddled us again by turning in... another 100 words. Desperately, we reached out to Neil Gaiman, who saved the day by writing a hilarious 800-word introduction to Harlan's 200-word story. I couldn't stop laughing!
At the end of August, Paizo moved into new offices on Richards Road in Bellevue. Located just a few blocks away from our first office space, it finally gave us room to give everybody a desk—and most importantly, we actually had warehouse space, and no longer had to stack back issues in the hallways (something that had caused many frowns from the fire inspector).
The biggest change we made at Paizo, though, was largely hidden behind the scenes until late in the year. Webmaster Rob Head added programmer Gary Teter to our web team, and the two of them spent months building an infrastructure that would completely transform paizo.com. Our original website had really been little more than a portal to sign up for magazine subscriptions and a place to post news releases. In August, we rolled out a new paizo.com complete with messageboards, which quickly become home to an incredible community. And in November, we launched our e-commerce store selling not just Paizo's own products, but for the first time offering thousands of gaming items from hundreds of gaming companies. Our first day's sales, on November 24, 2004, weren't earth shattering—in fact, we only did $1,124.56 in total sales the first week! (Trivia: the first non-Paizo product sold through the site was White Wolf's World of Darkness: Antagonists hardcover.) Though it started slow, eventually the paizo.com community and our web store would become two of the most important things that keep Paizo running.
The Paizo office on Richards Road and a peek through the front door, where David Neri answers calls at the new office. To the right, Prepress Manager Kelly O'Brien shows off our high-end Creo Veris machine, used to create color proofs for each page of our magazines.
We'd also had a few big staffing changes at Paizo. After Mary Franklin left the company to join Lucasfilm—where she still is today—Jeff Alvarez, who had started only the previous year as a Customer Service Representative, was made Director of Operations. Keith Strohm was promoted to Chief Operating Officer in August, and in October, Erik Mona was promoted to Editor-in-Chief of both Dragon and Dungeon, a well-deserved change of title for all of his hard work on Dungeon and Polyhedron that year.
The entire Paizo staff had worked their butts off in 2004, but at the end of the year, I was faced with a very tough choice. Even with the launch of Amazing Stories and the growth of Dragon, Dungeon, and Undefeated, Paizo wasn't even coming close to making up the lost revenue from Star Wars Insider. We had finally located the flaws in Johnny Wilson's "Three-Legged Stool" model of the magazine business (detailed in the "Debunking the Three-Legged Stool" section below). Our cash reserves were depleted, and I had actually started to put some of my retirement money into the company to make ends meet—something I had promised myself that I would never do. The stress on me personally was the highest that I have ever borne in my 25 years in the industry. I now knew what they meant when they said that Conan ruled over Hyboria with a heavy brow. There was one particular moment that will forever be etched into my brain: It was a Friday in early December, and Vic and I were driving home from the office late in the evening. It had been a particularly hard day, with money being tight and a bunch of bills going unpaid. I had been agonizing over spreadsheets with sobering names like 2005Hardline.xls, 2005BudgetcutUndft.xls, 2005NoAmazing.xls, 2005BudgetSmallSalaries.xls, 2005Budgetcutpeople.xls, and 2005Armeggedon.xls.
You have to understand, the people at Paizo are my friends. And with just a few keystrokes on a spreadsheet, I was potentially destroying lives, or at least changing their trajectories forever. The stress took over while driving home and I had to pull over to the side of the road and started bawling. I knew in my heart that I needed to make some drastic changes to give the company a chance to survive. I needed to cut Amazing Stories and Undefeated and all of their staffs to give Paizo a chance. But at that moment, sitting on the side of the road, I just wanted all of it to end. I turned to Vic and said, "I am done. I can't do this anymore. Let's just close it all down. I don't care about the money anymore. I just don't want to feel like this each day. I am not strong enough to carry this burden." If I had been alone, I might just have ended Paizo on that day; I was that low. But Vic picked me up, got me talking about the good things we had at Paizo. Got me thinking about how this wasn't the end, just a very large bump in the road.
But it still was a very hard time for me. The first thing I did was lay myself off. There was no way that I was going to draw a paycheck if I had to lay off a bunch of my colleagues. I would work for free and not get paid again until Paizo was on better footing. Then, on December 16, I had to do something that I promised myself I would never do: I had to lay off a bunch of people. All told, six people lost their jobs that day.
At the end of the day, Paizo was a lot leaner and focused. For now, we were the Dragon and Dungeon magazine company. But laying off six people wasn't magically going to put us on the path to prosperity. There was a LOT of hard work to be done in 2005. We needed to start building the foundations of an entirely new company.
Employees who started in 2004 (in order of hiring date):
Jenny Bendel, Director of Marketing
Gary Teter, Software Developer
Ole Sorensen, Graphic Designer
Sarah Robinson, Graphic Designer
Mike Schley, Graphic Designer
Jeff Berkwits, Editor-in-Chief, Amazing Stories
Jason Bulmahn, Associate Editor
Employees who left in 2004 (in order of their end date):
Mary Franklin
Patrick Velotta
Lisa Chido
Wade McNutt
Matthew Beals
Matt Sernett
Dave Gross
Jenny Bendel
Theresa Cummins*
Kyle Hunter*
Michael Mikaelian*
Jenny Scott*
Ole Sorensen*
Jeff Berkwits*
*laid off as part of the cancellation of Amazing Stories and Undefeated
Debunking the Three-Legged Stool
In our first anniversary blog, we mentioned Johnny's Wilson's "three-legged stool" model for magazine publishing, which dictates that successful magazines need to garner revenue from three streams: newsstand sales, subscriptions, and advertising.
Unfortunately, 2004 was the year that we discovered the major flaw in Johnny's model.
We knew that Undefeated was never going to attract a ton of subscribers; instead, we hoped to make most of our money on that title by selling to the hobby gaming market which—unlike sales to newsstands—couldn't be returned and was generally finalized within 90 days. We planned to bolster that solid, predictable income with advertising revenue from game publishers.
Amazing Stories took the opposite tack. We didn't expect much at all in the way of hobby sales, but we hoped to maintain a decent newsstand presence, and, over time, build a small-but-loyal subscriber base like we enjoyed with Dragon and Dungeon. We hoped to attract advertising from book and comic publishers and TV and movie producers.
Best of all, we had a shortcut that would give Amazing an immediate newsstand presence. Newsstands effectively have standing monthly orders for magazines. They may adjust that order from month to month, but once they start buying from you, they generally keep buying from you. The surprising part is that these standing orders aren't done by magazine title, but by something called a bipad. Once you have a bipad, you can actually replace one magazine with another, and the standing order will essentially transfer to the new title. And our distributor told us that we'd be able to use the Star Wars Insider bipad to launch Amazing Stories, so we wouldn't have to spend time and money to convince newsstands to pick up the new magazine—it would be automatic.
In our last blog, we explained that it took over a year to get final newsstand sales figures for a particular issue, so it wasn't until early 2004 that we had full data on even our first few all-Paizo issues of Dragon, Dungeon, and Star Wars Insider. Accountant Dave Erickson and I spent a couple of months poring through that data, and we finally emerged with a spreadsheet that let us predict sales data for recent issues with a fairly high degree of accuracy. Which meant the real analysis could begin.
By the end of 2004, we finally had enough data to prove that magazines don't actually make money from newsstand sales. It turns out that almost all of the costs associated with newsstand distribution increase in direct proportion to the number of copies you distribute; there are almost no economies of scale to be had. Therefore, increasing the number of copies you distribute doesn't increase your margin at all. The only way to increase the potential profit on newsstand sales is to increase the magazine's sell-through—that's the percentage of magazines that you've actually sold to customers once all the returns have been finalized. But it turns out it's virtually impossible to improve sell-through in any long-term way.
Unlike hobby stores, newsstands get to return any magazines they don't sell. This means that there's no risk associated with them ordering too many copies. In fact, retailers deliberately order more than they expect to sell, for a couple of good reasons. The most obvious is that they can't sell magazines they don't have, so ordering more than they think they'll need ensures that they'll have copies to sell in case sales are better than expected. Less obvious is the fact that it's easy for customers to overlook a small stack of magazines on the stand. On a shelf with dozens of different titles, a single copy of a particular magazine can literally get lost in the crowd; it's harder to overlook a stack of four or five copies. So retailers don't just want an extra copy or two on hand‚ they want an extra stack or two. So, no matter how many copies you sell in a month, retailers will order more the next month, assuring that if your sales continue to be strong, your sell-through percentage will stay pretty much the same. And if the next issue proves to be less successful, then they'll just return more copies, decreasing your sell-through, and the fees associated with the extra printing and the extra returns will likely wipe out any extra revenue you may have earned from the previous issue doing so well.
What is good sell-through, anyway? Anything above 30% was considered pretty good in the industry. Our best-ever issues were in the neighborhood of 40%. That means that 60% of the issues we printed were destroyed unsold. A bad issue would have sell-through in the 10% range. So not only were we sometimes paying to print almost nine times as many copies as we actually sold, but we were also paying to have all those copies trucked around the country, put out on newsstands, removed from newsstands a month later, and then destroyed. Along with, of course, a fee to the distributor for tracking all of that activity for us.
At this point, you may be wondering how all of those other magazines on the newsstand survive if none of them make any money. The answer is that those magazines make their money almost solely from advertising. (Open up a popular newsstand magazine and look at the masthead—that's magazine lingo for the credits page—and you'll usually find that the advertising sales staff vastly outnumbers the editorial staff.) These magazines are willing to lose piles of money on newsstand distribution in order to get people to buy them. The reason is that the more readers they have—whether profitable or not—the more they can charge advertisers to reach those readers. (This also explains why they often have low, low cover prices that don't even cover the cost of printing, or subscription rates that don't even cover the cost of postage, much less printing and editorial costs.)
But specialty magazines like Dragon and Dungeon can't bring in the same kinds of ads that those magazines can. They're not going to pull high-revenue ads for cars, cigarettes, or designer watches. At best, we might get ads for video games or high-profile fantasy novels‚ and those only because of Dragon and Dungeon's strong position in those markets, the result of decades of history. Amazing Stories and Undefeated didn't have that going for them.
Generating ad revenue is a difficult business. Advertisers want to know that the money they're spending on advertising results in increased sales. But it's usually very hard for advertisers to determine whether their ads are bringing them customers. From the publisher's side, we could provide estimates of the number of people that were potentially reading the ad, and we could talk about the prestige of being in the magazine. We could even tell them how some distributors would only carry RPG products that were being advertised in Dragon. But we couldn't tell them how much of a return they'd get on their investment. And as the internet became a more viable—and more measurable—means of spreading the word and selling products, magazine ad sales became harder and harder to do.
Worse still, even when we did manage decent ad sales, actually getting paid was a difficult prospect. Leaf through a bunch of old Dragon magazines, and you'll find loads of ads from game publishers and game stores that aren't in business anymore. In many cases, those folks were already in trouble when their ads were in print, and paying us was among the least of their worries. Now, look at some of those full-page ads from big companies... would it surprise you to learn that many of them didn't bother paying us either? The only recourse we had to keep people paying was that we wouldn't run more of their ads until their accounts were paid up—but if companies decided they didn't really need to advertise with us, we were just out of luck. Eventually, we required advertisers to secure ad placements with credit cards, and that helped eliminate most of the deadbeats—but it also reduced the number of people willing to place ads with us. Couple that with the start of a recession, where advertising is among the first things to drop from a company's budget, and you have a very difficult business indeed.
Now recall that our intent for Amazing Stories was to make its money on the newsstand and from advertising, and that we had the benefit of the Star Wars Insider bipad to launch Amazing. Well, shortly before launch, we learned that we had been misinformed about the bipad. We'd have been able to use the bipad if Insider had ceased publication, but because it was simply going to another publisher, the bipad had to go with it. That left us needing to spend months upon months and thousands upon thousands of dollars to build up an unprofitable newsstand presence from scratch, just so we could get circulation numbers high enough to begin the daunting task of trying to attract advertisers that might want to pay us. We hadn't yet realized it, but before our first issue even hit the stands, the world's oldest sci-fi magazine's days were once again numbered.
So what about Undefeated, with its non-returnable hobby sales revenue? We mentioned last month that if we could just get every game store in the country to buy two copies, we'd be set. (And frankly, we probably could have gotten by with just one copy per store.) But what we hadn't considered was the low value proposition for hobby distributors. Hobby distributors make a percentage of the retail price of everything they sell to their retailers. They have a limited amount of time each month in direct contact with each retailer, though, and if they have the choice between spending five minutes trying to get them to buy an $80 trading card game display box or trying to get them to buy an $8 magazine, well, the game makes them 10 times the money. After 10 issues, we realized that we weren't going to get around that fact, and coupled with the lack of ad revenue, we had to pull the plug on Undefeated.
Working with creative people in a high-stress environment such as magazine publishing can lead to crazy and fun times. In 2004, a meme started with photos of employees slapping Advertising Director Rob Stewart. Of course, it was all choreographed. As time went on, the phony slaps became more and more animated. Here are a number of pictures of folks doing "The Slap" on Rob.
From Left to Right: Amanda Titus, David Neri, Erik Mona, Keith Strohm, Sarah Robinson, and Sean Glenn.
Lisa Stevens CEO
The Bulmahn Cometh
2004 was a crazy year for me. I was working for an architectural firm in Milwaukee while moonlighting with the RPGA as one of the Living Greyhawk campaign directors. My duties included writing, editing, and approving adventures, so I decided to try to get published in Dungeon, sending them an adventure that was tied into Living Greyhawk. Erik and James liked the idea and published "Mad God's Key" in Dungeon #114.
I had always wanted to work in the game industry, and with a publishing credit under my belt and a few years’ experience working with Wizards, I decided to shoot for the moon and applied for a job in Wizards of the Coast's R&D department. I was incredibly surprised when I made it all the way to the end of the process, and in July, Wizards flew me out to Seattle for a face-to-face interview. I knew the job at Wizards was a long shot, so it came as no real surprise when they eventually offered the job to someone else.
But while I was in town for the Wizards interview, I also paid a visit to Paizo, where Erik hastily put me to work combing through the slush pile. As it turns out, while Wizards was interviewing me, they were also interviewing Dragon editor Matt Sernett for a different position, and when they hired Matt a few months later, that left Paizo with a job opening. Erik dropped me an email to let me know that Paizo was hiring, and just two weeks later, after a few quick calls and an interview, I was driving out to Seattle. My first day of work was October 11.
The whole time was rather surreal. I was incredibly excited to be working on Dragon, a magazine I had been reading since I was a kid, but I didn't know much about how magazines were put together. It was a steep learning curve, but I had plenty of time in my life for work. I was living in a tiny place with rented furniture until my belongings back in Milwaukee could be packed up and shipped out to join me. I didn't know anyone other than my coworkers, so I didn't have too many distractions. That said, I nearly quit and drove back to Milwaukee just a few weeks later.
Everything had seemed to be going fine. I was finally getting a handle on how the job worked when Erik came back into the editorial pit and closed the door—and nobody ever closed that door. He explained to everyone that Paizo was laying off a number of employees and putting Undefeated and Amazing Stories on permanent hiatus. I was shocked. I was worried that I had joined a company that was in danger, and I'd left behind a good stable job to do it. Later that afternoon, I pulled Erik aside and asked him if I should plan to move back to Milwaukee. After all, my old lease wasn't even up, and I was pretty sure I could get my old job back. He reassured me that Dragon and Dungeon were doing great and that I had nothing to worry about, but it took me a few more weeks to come to believe that. Looking back, sticking with Paizo was the best decision I've ever made.
The first of the charau-ka died before he knew he was in danger.
The huntress had tracked the apes and the traitor from the kraal of the Imjaka, through towering boles and curtains of hanging vines; across mattresses of leaves and fungi-infested soils that greedily retained the prints of passersby. Those who had hunted alongside her had long since turned back, unwilling to press so far from home.
But she would not turn back. The traitor Okamsi had been her friend; that made the tribe's vengeance her responsibility.
When she caught up to the baboon-faced, musk-and-feces-perfumed ape-things, they had halted beneath a thick canopy of branches, apparently arguing in their hooting, grunting language. They numbered three, which worried the huntress—not because she feared such odds, but because they had numbered five, plus Okamsi, when they'd first set out.
So where had the others gone?
She watched, wary of some snare or deception, but eventually the argument came to an end. The trio of charau-ka prepared to set out once more, and still no sign of the missing.
Time, then, to put her doubts aside.
Spears hissed through the canopy, shredding clusters of leaves. The first, a light and springy thing with a broad head of iron, sank into the back of the first ape-man, followed almost instantly by the second. Spears three and four were in the air, seeking fresh targets, before the perforated charau-ka had crumpled to the loam.
Hooting and screeching, the remaining simian warriors leapt aside, allowing the missiles to sink harmlessly into the earth. Hauling thick, knotted cudgels from the leather harnesses that were their only garb, they spun to face their unseen attacker. One slammed his club to the earth, shrieking in challenge. The other leapt for the branches, dangling by one hand and one prehensile foot, sniffing at the air.
Fleet as the jaguar, agile as the gibbon, the huntress leapt from the cover of the trees. She was a lithe, wiry figure, her skin darker and richer than the fertile soils on which she stood, marred only by the faded scars of an old burn spread unevenly across her left shoulder and her neck. Other than the white of her eyes and teeth, the only brighter hue in either her garb or her complexion came from a lion-skin kilt, partially slit so as not to impede her steps. From a belt of cowhide hung her quiver of throwing spears, and a pair of empty sheaths.
In each hand she held the former occupants of those sheaths: her faithful mambeles, wicked crescents of iron, almost like sickles with extra blades protruding at all angles.
She was taller than the charau-ka, but she had seen the strength and ferocity of the foul creatures before and knew better than to be fooled by their size. For an endless instant, human and charau-ka locked burning, unblinking eyes. Then they were coming at her. Their shrieks grew higher until they were a fire in the ears, and they crossed the intervening distance—whether afoot or swinging from the heavy branches—with a speed that astonished even the experienced Imjaka huntress.
Astonished—but not dismayed.
The huntress let fly, sending a mambele whistling through the air as she dove. Leaves and mushrooms crunched, the latter emitting a pungent and unhealthy smell as she rolled on one shoulder, passing just beneath the reach of the tree-borne charau-ka's bludgeon.
Her second enemy, though still roaring his fury, had jerked to a halt at the impact of the many-pointed weapon. It protruded from his chest—not deep enough to reach anything vital, but agonizing enough.
The forward tumble brought her back to her feet—or rather, to her knees, ending in a crouch before her diminutive foe. She yanked the mambele from his chest, twisting to widen the wound. That second jolt of pain, in turn, bought her enough time to bring her arms—and her blades—together across his throat.
"Ameyanda fears no man or beast, but only a fool ventures into the Sodden Lands."
Both mambeles, one already blooded, the other pristine, dug through simian fur and flesh. First a gout of the charau-ka's blood spattered across the earth, followed by his weapon—and then the charau-ka itself.
Hanging now by his feet, the surviving simian hurled a pair of stones, produced from spirits-knew-where. The huntress knocked the first aside with a desperate backhand, iron blade sparking on the jagged rock, but she'd no way to avoid the second. All she could do was rise from her crouch so that she took the stone against leather-warded chest rather than unprotected head.
Dyed the crimson-brown of drying blood, the jerkin was boiled and hardened to turn aside spears and arrows, yet she felt her flesh bruise, her rib shuddering but thankfully not cracking with the impact.
She needed to close, fast. Fortunately, the damn monkey's acrobatics and elevation didn't give him nearly the advantage he anticipated.
Again the mambele flew, followed swiftly by the second. The charau-ka swung aside on one foot, allowing both blades to sink harmlessly into the wood; but then, she'd known full well that he would.
In the brief seconds of his dodge, the huntress broke into a run and leapt. Hands calloused by a life in the wilds of the Mwangi Expanse closed around the rough bark. Even as the charau-ka spun back her way, she swung forward, wrapping her calves around the creature's torso just below his arms. A sharp twist of the waist was enough to shake the bough and, more significantly, yank the ape-man from his perch to land headfirst on the jungle floor.
It wasn't much of a fall, not nearly enough to kill. No, it was the woman landing on him even as he bounded upright, both mambeles once more in her hands and angled sharply downward, that did the trick.
Silence, then, save for the huntress's sharp breaths. Still alert for the missing charau-ka, she carefully cleaned her blades on the creature's hairy hide before sheathing them. She then made her way to the spears, jutting from soil or flesh, retrieving those that might be reused, salvaging the iron tips from those that could not.
"If you seek the human, you will not find him."
She spun to face the thick screen of foliage from which the voice had come. It had an odd sound to it: raspy, slightly mangled, as though spoken by someone unaccustomed to the regional dialect.
Or, she realized when the figure stepped into the open, by a mouth that was never meant to pronounce the words.
He stood perhaps a head taller than she. Scales the murky green of stagnant swamp water faded gradually into a sallow tan across his throat and chest. A crest of similarly colored spines ran from atop his head to the base of his tail. He wore only an open vest and loincloth of some mammalian hide, but his eyes gleamed with cunning and the black talons of one hand were wrapped around a feather-and-bone-bedecked spear.
It was only as she completed her fleeting inspection that she realized she had no way of knowing if "he" was in fact male. She'd just assumed, perhaps due to the voice.
Her own hands lingered near the mambeles, but if the newcomer was hostile, he could have struck from concealment. Warily, she straightened and ran a hand over the prickly stubble that was the only hair atop her scalp. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"I have watched these charau-ka since before midday. They met earlier with one of the great speaking gorillas of Usaro. A wizard, surely, for it disappeared soon after, taking two of the charau-ka and a human with it. They may be anywhere now, perhaps even Usaro itself. As you clearly track them, I assume it is the human you seek?"
She growled something she hoped, afterward, the reptile wouldn't be able to translate. "Yes, damn it. It is."
The lizardman nodded, though whether the gesture meant the same thing coming from him as it would from her, she was unsure.
"I am Ameyanda," she said, remembering at least a sliver of etiquette while the bulk of her attention was focused on figuring out what she was supposed to do now. "Of the Imjaka."
"Seyusth, of Haa-Ok. And I know you already, Ameyanda of Imjaka."
"Grandmother Sun's blessings on—what? You know me?"
"I know you, yes. I am, in fact, seeking you, not those." He gestured with an empty hand toward the apish corpses.
"Why?" Her own hand edged again toward her weapons.
"I seek one of my clan, my..." He paused, blinking languidly, perhaps trying to recall the proper word, or to explain a concept that didn't translate. "‘Cousin,' is the nearest term in your language. You will help me retrieve him."
"Is that so? Seyusth, not only have I my own hunt to—"
"You cannot find your missing human any time soon. You have no means of tracking him."
"Not only have I my own hunt," she repeated through a cage of clenched teeth, "but why, by all the gods, would I involve myself in yours?"
"Because, Ameyanda of the Imjaka, you owe me your life."
A pause; a blink; a breath.
"Oh. You're that lizardman."
∗∗∗
Ameyanda had no difficulty remembering. She still dreamed about it.
She felt the crunch of twigs and fungi beneath her feet, saw the trees and fronds whipping by to either side, heard her own desperate gasps echoed in the panting of Mbamsi and Entandwi. She gagged as the ominous musk—not quite reptile and not quite avian, but distilled from the worst of both—seeped malevolently into those breaths, as if taunting. And she heard the cracking and snapping, hissing and spitting, as the pack closed far, far too rapidly from behind. They were smaller than most of the predatory thunder-lizards of the Mwangi, those raptors, but they were large enough, fierce enough, and horrifyingly cunning enough to take down prey far stronger than the three Imjaka youths. They'd already lost Xabadzi to the raptors' initial ambush.
Ameyanda and her friends would follow him soon enough.
Or they would have, had the grasses themselves not come to the rescue. Wiggling like serpents, they intertwined with the pounding talons of the raptors. Yanked to a halt, some so swiftly that they toppled, the thunder-lizards began to slash and chew at the suddenly hostile flora.
They might, perhaps, have gnawed themselves free soon enough, but the trio's fortune had not yet run out. From a sky largely bereft of clouds, the lightning cracked. When the first of the raptors was seared, shrieking in pain, the others redoubled their efforts. By the time the third had suffered the same agonizing fate, the rest wanted nothing more than to be elsewhere. Finally ripping themselves free, the surviving members of pack scattered, their prey forgotten.
For a moment, as Ameyanda had turned, wide-eyed, toward Mbamsi and Entandwi, she caught a glimpse of one of the mysterious lizardfolk, deep in the jungle's shadows. Ameyanda knew little about magic, then, but she knew that what she'd witnessed had in no way been natural. Tentatively, she raised a hand in greeting.
Her reptilian savior had solemnly returned the gesture before vanishing into the trees.
∗∗∗
Ameyanda dragged her mind across the intervening half-decade and back to the figure she'd never thought to see again.
"I owe you," she admitted, her voice low. "And the Imjaka repay our debts."
"Good," was all Seyusth offered in reply.
Stifling a sigh, the huntress went to retrieve the woven satchel of supplies that she'd left in the hollow of a winding tree root before engaging the charau-ka. "You could explain yourself, at least," she suggested sourly. "Why come to me? Could the other Haa-Ok not—?"
"My people have no desire to assist me. Our journey may take us into the territories of the Terwa Lords."
"And those are who?"
"The..." Again, Seyusth seemed briefly at a loss. "What is your term for my kind?"
"Your...? Oh. Ah, ‘lizardfolk.'"
His snout twitched as though he'd just swallowed something that had decided to bite back. "Yes. The ‘lizardfolk' of the western swamps are not like Haa-Ok, or our neighboring tribes. They are fiercer. More bloodthirsty."
Ameyanda hefted the satchel over her shoulder. "We've had trouble with lizardfolk raids now and then. Them?"
"Most probably. The Terwa Lords—those who rule the swamp tribes—seek expansion and conquest. They have attempted, at times, to annex even tribes far into the Mwangi, either through promise or threat. The former emptier than the latter, I think."
"They're your enemies," she said. "And your tribesmen—uh, tribeslizards?—will not risk invading their lands over one missing person."
"You understand precisely. I attempted to locate Issisk—the missing one—myself, but my knowledge of the region proved insufficient. It cost me an entire moon of wasted effort."
Ameyanda was frowning, tapping a hand idly against her quiver. "I'm a skilled warrior," she said without braggadocio, "and I've seen your power... shaman?"
"As accurate a term as any."
"But I don't believe the two of us can fight an entire nation, Seyusth."
"You misunderstand. While we may pass through their territories, the Terwa do not have Issisk. If he lives, he is in the hands of the swamp's savage humans."
The satchel fell back to the soil with a dull thump. "You mean the scavenger gangs," she hissed, a fair imitation of a reptile herself. "When you say ‘the western swamps'... You mean to take us into the Sodden Lands."
"If that is what you call the storm-drowned territories beyond the jungle's edge," the lizardman told her, "then yes."
Coming Next Week: A journey into hurricane-wracked wastelands in Chapter Two of "Hell or High Water."
Ari Marmell is an author and game designer, and has written extensively for Dungeons & Dragons, Magic: The Gathering, World of Darkness, and more. His novels include the independent dark fantasy novels The Conqueror's Shadow and The Warlord's Legacy, the young adult fantasy Thief's Covenant, and the morbidly humorous The Goblin Corps, among others. For more information, see his website at mouseferatu.com.
When planning out Advanced Race Guide we knew that humans were going to give us some trouble. What do you give the race that has the cleanest slate and the most open-ended bonus options? We sat down and had to ask what makes humans... well, human.
We came up with a short list of human virtues. One of the strongest human virtues on the list was versatility. Humans are downright tenacious in their ability to adapt and thrive. Few human cultures are tied to the ancient traditions and stubborn cultural and martial forms of other races. Even humans in well-established cultures have a dramatic tendency to delve deep into their experience and intrinsic gumption to not only survive but also thrive when the chips are down. The following group of human racial feats was designed to emulate human’s intrinsic versatility.
Critical Versatility (Combat)
An open mind and combat training grant versatility to your critical hits. Prerequisites: Fighter level 11th, human. Benefit: Once per day, you can spend 1 hour practicing maneuvers to gain one single critical feat that you meet the prerequisites for. You gain the benefits of the chosen critical feat until you choose to practice a different critical feat.
Fast Learner
Your progress gains extra versatility. Prerequisites: Int 13, human. Benefit: When you gain a level in a favored class, you gain both +1 hit point and +1 skill rank instead of choosing either one or the other benefit or you can choose an alternate class reward.
Martial Mastery (Combat)
You broaden your study of weapons to encompass multiple similar weapons. Prerequisites: Martial Versatility, fighter level 16th, human. Benefit: Each combat feat you have that applies to a specific weapon (e.g., Weapon Focus) can be used with all weapons in the same weapon group (Ultimate Combat 45).
Martial Versatility (Combat)
You further broaden your study of weapons to encompass multiple similar weapons. Prerequisites: Fighter level 4th, human. Benefit: Choose one combat feat you know that applies to a specific weapon (e.g., Weapon Focus). You can use that feat with any weapon within the same weapon group. Special: You may take this feat more than once. Each time it applies to a different feat.
Next week we will start delving into the next chapter of the book with a look at an old favorite.
One of my top goals from day one has been to see a facelift to the Pathfinder Society home page, and the creation of various sub-pages that will link to it. Though I can’t provide much details of what the final results will look like yet, I can say that one of the areas it will include is a section on the history of Pathfinder Society Organized Play.
It is important that new players can join the Society at any time and look back at what has happened in regard to the storyline from previous seasons. At the same time, veteran players will be able reflect back on what happened during a season they participated in. This is especially true as we move forward with the revamp of faction missions and season-long faction goals having lasting effects on future storylines, the viability of the factions’ existences, and rewards that characters in certain factions can earn. The first goal to accomplish this was a recap of Season Two, Year of the Shadow Lodge.
I met with Wolfgang Baur at Neon Con last November to discuss how we could get more Pathfinder, specifically Pathfinder Society, into Kobold Quarterly. When I pitched the idea of a Season Two recap in the spring issue, KQ #21, he seemed excited. I reached out to Nicholas Gray, a very devoted player I knew from my days in Atlanta, and he agreed to write up a summation that included the major plot points from the scenarios that revolved around the Shadow Lodge insurgency. Once the summer issue of Kobold Quarterly is released, and the new Pathfinder Society home page goes live, this article will also appear on the history section. A big thank you goes out to both Wolfgang and Nick for making the idea become a reality. You will also be able to find a recap of Season 3, Year of the Ruby Phoenix, shortly after Gen Con on the same page.
Switching focus from the history of Pathfinder Society to the future, in the past 4 to 6 weeks, I have assigned six new Venture-Captains to the Society to help grow PFS in their regions. Some were announced on the messageboards. Others have recently been assigned. Regardless, I wanted to write a few words to make sure they receive the recognition and thanks they deserve for stepping up and taking the reigns of PFS in their regions.
The two newest Venture-Captains to be assigned are James Engle in Cleveland, Ohio and James Hebert in New Orleans, LA.
James Engle will not only will be focusing his efforts on the Cleveland area, but he will also be helping coordinate the growth of Pathfinder Society in Canton and Akron as well. He advised me during his interview process that he would help out Toledo if there were a need.
James Hebert will expand outside of New Orleans and reach out to Lafayette and Lake Charles to the west, and Biloxi, Mississippi to the east. He also advised a trip to Baton Rouge may not be out of the question if there were interested stores or players looking to set establish games as well. Although it nearly killed me to put a Saints fan into a Venture-Captain position, I have faith that James can rise above the normal expectations of Saints fans and do a good job with Pathfinder Society. ;-)
We also added Michael McNerney in Columbus, Ohio, Karim Majeri in Paris, France, and Daniel Luckett in Western Michigan. Finally, we promoted Venture-Lieutenant Clint Blome to full Venture-Captain status of the Omaha, Nebraska region.
You have my thanks, and I’m sure the appreciation of your local players, for all of your efforts in coordinating Pathfinder Society.
Mike Brock Pathfinder Society Campaign Coordinator
Pathfinder Battles Preview: Behold the Black Arrows!
Friday, April 20, 2012
I'm on the road this week, so today's preview will be short and sweet.
In recent weeks, we've showed off a lot of monsters and villains from the Rise of the Runelords set of Pathfinder Battles prepainted miniatures. This week, I'd like to show off a trio of key NPCs that might prove to be enemies OR allies in the course of the Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path, the notorious Black Arrows rangers!
I'm really pleased with how awesome these minis turned out. Best of all, they make for great player character minis, and perfect stand-ins for whatever kind of warrior-types you might need in your campaigning beyond the Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path.
First up we have Jakardros Sovark, an uncommon human ranger who happens to be the stepfather of Shalelu Andosana, Varisia's famed elf ranger protector. Jakardros lost an eye somewhere along the way, but I assure you that hasn't hurt his skill with the bow and arrow!
Next up is Vale Temros, an uncommon human ranger/fighter with two axes and a whole lot of hurt to unleash on his enemies! I'm thrilled with how well Vale turned out, and in-hand I think he's one of the best miniatures in the set. I'd certainly love to put him on my table as either a PC or NPC!
Last up we have Kaven Windstrike, an uncommon ranger/rogue who might not turn out to be quite as helpful as his Black Arrow fellows. Unfortunately, Kaven's sword snapped off before we could grab a good photo of him (the paint masters are made of a much more brittle plastic than the final figures), so you'll have to use your imagination to see his supremely awesome sword. (Ok, it's pretty much just a normal sword, but as long as we're imagining...).
Be sure to get your own Black Arrows by preordering a Standard Case of Rise of the Runelords Pathfinder Battles minis, or set up an ongoing case subscription to ensure your best chance of getting all 65 figures in the set!
That's it for this week. Next week, I promise something gross and monstrous!
Avast there, ye scurvy swabs! This week sees the release of Pathfinder Adventure Path #55: The Wormwood Mutiny, which includes, among other things, four new familiars for you swashbuckling spellcasters out there. But pirates stole into our computers during the dead of night and made off with some valuable loot—the bonuses these familiars grant their masters! Fortunately, we tracked down the villainous knaves on the open seas and recovered our lost cargo—and took a few extra bits o’ plunder for ourselves.
So without further ado, here’s the rules for the pirate familiars presented in The Wormwood Mutiny, with a few other pirate familiars thrown in for good measure!
Other Piratical Familiars
Trained animals are extremely popular among pirates, serving as pets, ships’ mascots, and company on lengthy voyages. Pirate spellcasters prove no different than their shipmates in their interest in pets, and find having exotic familiars wins them bragging rights and a degree of status. Creatures like blue-ringed octopuses, goats, hawks, rats, lizards, king crabs, monkeys, rats, scarlet spiders, snapping turtles, vipers, and weasels all serve as existing examples of potential pirate familiars that appear in either the Pathfinder RPG Bestiary or Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Magic. Additionally, the statistics for many existent familiars might be used to represent more exotic, piratical familiars. The following table presents a variety of such exotic familiars, statistics that can be used to represent them, and the benefits of having them as familiars (which, in some cases, vary from the familiar creatures whose statistics they share).
Jendara followed Tam's light, feeling the cave's blackness like velvet pressing against her skin, her nostrils. She wanted to run outside before the cave smothered her. But she couldn't stop thinking of that horrible wail. It wasn't Kran—he could make a few sounds, but none so loud or carrying. She reminded herself of that fact again and again.
It still made her skin crawl.
"Remember," Tam called over his shoulder. "Keep an eye on the person ahead of you. The floor of these places isn't always—"
His voice cut off in a scream and his light disappeared.
Jendara darted forward. "Tam!"
"Jendara, stop!" Vorrin shouted.
She froze. By the glow of her lantern, she could see the sudden drop Tam hadn't. The tunnel opened into great mouthing darkness that her lantern barely began to light. "Are you all right?"
"My arm's caught." Tam grunted. "Caught bad."
Vorrin knelt beside her. "I can wrap a rope around this bit of stalagmite, lower you down. Be some work getting the two of you up again, but I can manage it."
Jendara held her lantern over the cliff’s edge, getting a glimpse of Tam's red hair about seven feet below her, just above the floor of what must be a vast cavern. The cliff broke up into long fingers of rock at the bottom, and he hung from the crotch of the two tallest. Jendara shook her head. "Damn, that's ugly. Let's do this fast before he loses an arm."
Somewhere in the darkness, the wail sounded again. Jendara felt gooseflesh prickle as she passed her length of rope to Vorrin.
"Make a good knot when you join those."
He brushed his fingers down her cheek. "The best."
She didn't watch him tie the two ropes together or wrap the rope around the rock, just moved her lantern out of the way and rubbed dirt into the palms of her hands. She didn't need any sweat to make climbing harder.
Vorrin wrapped the rope around her waist and tied it tight. She clambered over the cliff edge, and after only a moment's climbing could hear Tam's pained breathing below her. He was too much the islander to groan or whimper—the raw rasp of his inhalations was as bad as a scream. But there was no way to climb faster. No light, no ladder, just her fingers and toes searching out purchase on the cracked rocks.
Suddenly Jendara's palms went sweat-slick. Her fingers slipped off the narrow handhold, and for a sickening second she swung from the end of the rope, her face scraping the cavern wall.
"Jendara!" Vorrin yelled.
Then her foot found a hold, a rock spur of some kind. "I'm okay!"
And wished she'd been quiet as a frenzied barking sounded out in the darkness.
"Gods," Tam groaned. Jendara could see what he saw, a brightening in the distance like flickering torchlight. She thought of the goblin dog scat on the boat and climbed faster.
The bottom of the cliff came as a surprise. Now that she was down, Vorrin's hands were free to hoist the lantern, lighting up Tam and the rocky ground.
The goblin dog's snarl echoed off the walls of the great cavern. Jendara loosened the rope from her waist and stretched on tiptoe to work it around Tam's. His breathing was just tiny gasps now. Every ounce of his body hung from the pinned arm.
Jendara locked her arms around his thighs, grunting as she lifted him up out of the vise. A horrible squeak choked in his throat, and the big man went limp. "Damn it," she whispered. She could only hope he'd regain consciousness soon. She couldn't get him back up that cliff on her own.
Pressing herself against the rock that had gripped him, she pushed off again, getting a little higher. Tam coughed and wriggled. Suddenly all his weight was on Jendara and she staggered.
"Vorrin, he's free!"
"Islander, pirate—but most of all, mother."
The light disappeared, and after a second some of the weight came off Jendara.
Behind the rocks, the goblin dog shrieked. Jendara stiffened as she heard a sound she knew only too well, the dry scrape of air moving in a throat that had never spoken. Kran's strange laugh.
"Kran!"
She pushed Tam back against the cliff face, propping him against the wall. She could smell the blood seeping from his scraped and mangled shoulder. "Be right back, friend."
Then she was off. She wished for her own lantern, but guttering torchlight guided her forward, as did a cacophony of sounds: the hollow wailing, a clatter of stones, the hideous sounds of goblin speech.
A goblin dog lay twitching on the cave floor, the end of a very familiar pocketknife jutting out of its eye socket. Its rider had rolled free, and swung a torch around its swollen gray head to block the volley of rocks Kran lobbed at its face. One goblin, alone. Jendara grinned to herself and felt for her belt axe. She could handle one goblin scout and a dead dog.
The belt axe soared through the air. The wet thud of it sinking into the goblin's skull was like music.
Kran dropped his rocks and ran to the dead dog. He jerked his knife free and began to cut at the black pack on the dog's back, which wailed and wriggled. Jendara reclaimed her axe and jogged to his side.
It was no pack, she realized. The glossy black hide belonged to a bear cub, a cut seeping blood along its side. She held its paws as Kran struggled to cut the last of its ties. The white blaze on its nose triggered prickles on the back of her neck.
A grizzly rampaging last night. An island under attack this afternoon.
A goblin scout here right now.
"We've got to get out of here." She tucked the bear cub under her arm and grabbed Kran by the hand, racing for Tam and the only way she knew out of the cave.
"Vorrin! Hurry up!" she bellowed. She didn't wait for him to begin pulling. She slapped Kran on the butt and urged him up the cliff, scurrying behind him. One-handed, weighed down by the bear, she still made it up before Vorrin finished hauling Tam.
They worked together to half-drag Tam out of the tunnel and down to the beach. By the time they hit the sand, they could see the goblin torches flickering at the mouth of the cave, brighter than the faint orange of sunset over the sea.
"How did you know there were more?" Vorrin asked.
"The bear," Jendara grunted, shifting Tam's weight against herself. "The goblins must have scared it last night when they took to the caves. The attack on Black Bay Island was a distraction."
Oric jerked awake from his post on a washed-up log. "Wha—"
But Jendara cut him off. "Run back to your village. If there's trouble, let us know."
His eyes were huge as he nodded and dashed away.
Jendara could already smell smoke. Her stomach sank as they rounded the headland. Flames stained the sky. Oric stood frozen, staring at his burning village.
Behind them, goblin riders whooped and cheered.
Jendara passed her son the injured bear cub. "Kran, run to the Milady and arm yourself. Help the crew protect the docks. And take Oric!"
The boy looked pale, but did as he was told. Jendara smiled up at Tam. "I sure hope you can fight left-handed."
He gave a weak laugh and took up a fighting stance. Jendara felt heat course through her veins, the ice that gripped her all day melting away. She rubbed the tattoos on the backs of her hands and chuckled to herself.
"Little bastards don't know what they're in for."
∗∗∗
Jendara stood beside the mound of goblin dead and waited for Vorrin to pass her the torch. Her arms ached with exhaustion, but she felt proud: proud of herself and the people she'd helped defend. A group of women stood close by, and at least one smiled at her. She'd forgotten that, whatever other duties the women of the islands might have, they could still fight. They weren't so different, she and them.
A great roar came up from the docks as the villagers cheered for their returning kin. But many minutes passed before Jendara made out the shapes of the returning war party, and even in the moonlight, she could see a grimness in their approach. The man in front led a shorter figure on a rope.
Oric jumped up from his seat beside Kran. "Father! You're home!" He dashed toward the men but stopped as the torchlight revealed the scowl on his father's face.
"What happened?" Morul growled. "Smoke fills the sky above the island. We found this filth looting the tavern on Black Bay. And all the village gathers here to make a bonfire?"
Vorrin handed the torch to Jendara, and she held it a moment above the goblins. "Not just any bonfire. While you fought the fires on Black Bay Island, the main goblin troop prepared to attack your village under the cover of darkness. They would have succeeded, too, if not for our sons and their furry friend here."
Kran hugged the bear cub, who made a sleepy grumble.
"Bears? Boys? I don't understand."
The wise woman stepped forward. "Know that we only lost one building—the meeting house—and have only two wounded. Jendara and her people helped greatly."
Morul tugged the rope lead hard enough to send the small, dirty man at its end sprawling. "And what of this trash?" Gorg groaned from the sand, but didn't move.
Jendara smiled. "I have an idea." She beckoned to Morul and, when he joined her beside the bonfire, murmured quietly for a moment.
He looked from the cowering Gorg to the villagers to the pile of dead goblins. And then to Jendara. "You truly are Erik Eriksson's daughter, aren't you?"
She laughed and lit the bonfire.
∗∗∗
Vorrin watched Jendara finish tucking the blankets around a sleeping Kran and a snoring baby bear. He waited for her to close the cabin door behind her and join him on the deck. The night was clear and the stars brilliant.
Jendara could tell he wanted to say something—something meaningful and true about the day, about helping the village women fight off the goblins, about finding Kran, about everything they had done. But he knew better. Instead, he settled for standing with her and grinning as they watched a small boat row out of the harbor. "Nice of Gorg to chip in like that. Glad he didn't have any hard feelings after that beating we gave him."
"You'd think he'd need his ship, but it was thoughtful of him to leave it to the village for rebuilding materials." Jendara laughed, then sobered.
She reached out to the grizzly fur, still sitting on the deck. "You know, it's funny how this bear saved so many people. If the goblins hadn't driven her out of the caves, she would never have lost her baby or attacked Yul's sheep. Kran wouldn't have followed his ears down into that cavern. Right now, we'd be sailing for the mainland, and a lot of people would be dead."
"That's some bear." Vorrin studied the moon a moment. "Are you disappointed that we missed the tide?"
She shook her head. "No. Not one bit. It felt nice tonight. Like being part of someplace. Like having a home."
He reached for his pipe and lit it, puffing until the coals glowed red. "You know, when we get done selling this load, maybe we should come back here. It'd make for a nice summer harbor."
Jendara looked sideways at him. "You saying we should tie up for summer?"
He puffed the pipe again. "There should be a place we can take the ship for repairs and supplies. A place to let Kran get his land legs. What do you think?"
She nodded, and felt herself begin to smile. Behind his pipe, Vorrin was doing the same.
Neither of them had used the word "home." But for two retired pirates, it was a pretty good first step.
Coming Next Week: Scaly adventures in the Sodden Lands in Ari Marmell's "Hell or High Water"
Wendy N. Wagner is the author of short stories in such anthologies and magazines as Armored, Way of the Wizard, Rigor Amortis, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and more. She is a regular contributor to inkpunks.com, and can be found online at winniewoohoo.com.
Hey, everyone. Last week we got a little sidetracked, but we are back this week with the promised preview of the Advanced Race Guide. As part of the treesinger druid archetype, elves can gain a number of plant companions in place of a druid’s normal natural bond ability. Below you will find the full rules for these leafy companions.
Plant Companions
Each plant companion has different starting sizes, speed, attacks, ability scores, and special qualities. All plant attacks are made using the creature’s full base attack bonus unless otherwise noted. Plant attacks add the plant’s Strength modifier on the damage roll, unless it has only one attack, in which case it adds 1-1/2 times its Strength modifier. Some plant companions have special abilities, such as scent. Plant companions cannot gain armor or weapon proficiency feats, even as they advance in hit dice, and cannot use manufactured weapons at all unless their description says otherwise.
As you gain levels, your plant companion grows in power as well. It gains the same bonuses that are gained by animal companions, noted on Table 3–8: Animal Companion Base Statistics on page 52 of the Core Rulebook. Each plant companion gains an additional bonus, usually at 4th or 7th level, as listed with each plant choice. Instead of taking the listed benefit at 4th level, you can instead choose to increase the companion’s Strength and Constitution by 2.
Illustration by Anna Christenson
Carnivorous Flower
Starting Statistics:Size Small; Speed 30 ft., climb 10 ft.; AC +2 natural armor; Attack bite (1d6); Ability Scores Str 10, Dex 17, Con 15, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 10; Special Qualities low-light vision, scent.
4th-Level Advancement:Size Medium; Attack bite (2d6); Ability Scores Str +4, Dex –2, Con +2; Special Attacks rage (1/day, as the barbarian class feature for 6 rounds).
Crawling Vine
Starting Statistics:Size Medium; Speed 20 ft., climb 20 ft.; AC +2 natural armor; Attack slam (1d4); Ability Scores Str 13, Dex 17, Con 13, Int 1, Wis 12, Cha 2; Special Attacks grab; Special Qualities low-light vision, scent.
4th-Level Advancement:Size Large; AC +1 natural armor; Attack slam (1d6); Ability Scores Str +8, Dex –2, Con +4; Special Attacks constrict 1d6.
Puffball (Floating Fungus)
Starting Statistics:Size Small; Speed 20 ft., fly 60 ft. (average); AC +1 natural armor; Attack thorn (1d4 plus poison); Ability Scores Str 10, Dex 15, Con 12, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 6; Special Attacks poison (Frequency 1 round [6], Effect 1 Con damage, Cure 1 save, Con-based DC); Special Qualities low-light vision.
4th-Level Advancement:Ability Scores Str +2, Con +2.
Sapling Treant
Starting Statistics:Size Medium; Speed 30 ft., climb 30 ft.; AC +1 natural armor; Attack 2 slams (1d6); Ability Scores Str 15, Dex 10, Con 12, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 7; Special Qualities double damage against objects, low-light vision.
4th-Level Advancement:Size Large; AC +2 natural armor; Attack 2 slams (1d8); Ability Scores Str +8, Dex –2, Con +4.
Next week will continue on our tour of Chapter 1: Core Races with a look at some new feats for human characters.
One of the defining characteristics of the Pathfinder Society Organized Play campaign that separates it from other organized play programs is the faction system. A few weeks ago, Paizo Publisher Erik Mona, Campaign Coordinator Mike Brock, and I spent an obscene amount of time in a few very long meetings really digging into factions to determine what worked with their current implementation, what was lacking, and how we could improve them, and in doing so improve the quality of the Pathfinder Society campaign as a whole. We came up with a lot of great ideas, and Mike and I have hinted at them in recent weeks on the messageboards. Well, today I'm going to pull back the curtain a little bit and reveal a few of the changes we have in store in a bit more detail.
First, starting in Season 4, all 10 factions will have a specific goal they hope to achieve over the course of the year. In general, we'll be moving away from the original metaplot of the factions vying for control of Absalom, as the campaign has expanded to incorporate the entire Inner Sea region to a much larger extent than was anticipated in Season 0. These goals will be clear and will be disseminated to all members of a given faction by the faction heads at the start of the season. Make sure all your Pathfinder Society characters are registered on paizo.com and that your email address and privacy settings are updated before August so you'll be sure to get any missives your faction leader may send. All Pathfinder Society scenario designers will receive an overview of the factions' plans in order to incorporate opportunities to achieve these goals into their respective scenarios.
Note that I said opportunities and not missions? Faction missions aren't going away, and you'll still get faction missives from your faction head at the start of a scenario. But except in specific cases where necessitated by the circumstances, faction missions won't just be a specific skill check you need to make or else fail the faction mission. They'll be more general, and tied to the overall faction goal for the season. While we'll make sure there's an opportunity presented in each scenario for members of each faction to put forward their factions' goals (and any specific tasks suggested in the scenario's faction handouts), we'll also be allowing for more player creativity.
For example, Andoran's goal for a season (and this isn't their goal next season) might be to bring slavers to justice. In a particular scenario, the PCs may encounter a merchant in Osirion whom they can discover has ties to slavers. Andoran faction PCs who discover this can then deal with the guy as they see fit, or if they miss this clue, they can use their time in the markets in a later encounter to put together a list of slavers operating out in the open in the markets of Sothis. In both cases, the PCs are helping their faction toward the overall season goal, and while we will present an opportunity to do so without the need to go off the rails, PCs will be rewarded for taking the initiative and going beyond these suggestions.
Another hot topic of discussion has been the so-called "faction war," in which each faction competes with the rest to be the winner of a given season. We're revising this faction-versus-faction paradigm, instead measuring each faction's success against its own goals to achieve varying degrees of success. Thus, a faction whose members get all their possible prestige in a given season achieve 100% success, and the results of their actions will play out in the ongoing, unfolding plot of the campaign. Similarly, a faction that struggles a bit and only gets 80% of its potential prestige might not achieve its ultimate goal but will certainly see the results of its many successes. Finally, a faction that only reaches the lowest threshold of success might see in-world consequences of its failures, which may determine the faction's goals the following season (perhaps calling into question the faction's very existence).
We've got some pretty deep and (we think) fun plots developing for all 10 factions, and the authors of our four Gen Con scenarios are already working to incorporate those threads into their adventures. Stay tuned this summer for more information from your faction heads about what your PCs are going to be working toward in the next year.
Up first is the Lamia, a creature with ties to ancient Greek mythology and a strong pedigree in fantasy roleplaying games. Appropriately placed on a Large base, this nasty creature has a hateful streak you've really got to look out for. The common miniature also a great likeness of the art from the Pathfinder Bestiary.
Here we have the Lamia Kuchrima, the weakest of the lamia-kin. These flying creatures flock to the mountain skies of Varisia, as they have since the distant days of the ancient Runelords. Many dwell there still, and player characters in the Rise of the Runelords campaign will be facing several as they hack their way to the hidden city of Xin-Shalast at the campaign's conclusion. We've placed this figure at the common rarity, making it easy to gather a whole flight of them.
This figure isn't a lamia, but we think she's plenty cool. This Huge Storm Giant towers over player characters. The creatures feature heavily in the final encounters of the Rise of the Runelords campaign, and this powerful warrior is ready to usher things to a thunderous climax.
We wrested our Advanced Race Guide preview back out of the hands of Tuesday's pernicious pirates. Inside this upcoming tome of cutting-edge characters and radical races you'll find all the information you need on creating members of all three of the races previewed here, along with any other exotic beings you’ve ever wanted to play or can possibly imagine. Check back next Tuesday for your first look at some of the Advanced Race Guide's new rules, with a focus on its woodsier wonders...
Really this time.
Illustrations by Ben Wootten, Anna Christenson and Rayph Beisner
"Where's my son?" Jendara's voice rumbled like a great beast's growl. Vorrin gripped her elbow, hard.
The boys stared back at her for a second, then bolted.
"Come back!" Jendara yanked her arm, but Vorrin kept his grip.
"They won't talk to you," he snapped. "Hell, you scare me."
Yul chuckled. "You're right, mainlander. The boys will run home to hide. We'll go door to door. I know their fathers."
But as he led them deeper into the village, a hunting horn blew a long blast, then two short. Yul stiffened. "That's the call to town meeting. The emergency signal."
"We'll come," Vorrin said, and tightened his grip on Jendara's arm. She could feel her heart pick up its beat. An emergency, and Kran missing...
The narrow walkways filled with people, all chattering in high, tense tones. Everyone hurried toward the peak-roofed structure at the center of the village, the only building unclad by turf, and painted in dizzying shades of reds and blues. The church and meeting house. Jendara's family had practiced no faith, but town business was serious religion for anyone in a small town. She'd spent plenty of time in her own village's meeting hall. Just looking at it made her feel smaller and younger.
But her shoulders stiffened as she stepped inside. An elder in a wise woman's black kirtle and chemise stood beside a bandaged man, who alone sat on a wooden bench. The right side of his beard was blackened, in some places singed to the skin. The woman offered him a mug, and he sipped at it with a grimace.
Yul leaned to whisper at Jendara and her friends: "That's Birn, the chief's son from our neighbormost island. Their best fighter."
The cold prickling on Jendara's neck intensified. Instinct told her that whatever trouble had beset Birn somehow touched her son.
Another man stepped onto a podium. His red cloak proclaimed him a leader of some kind, and his craggy face bore more than a passing resemblance to Yul's. "Grave news, my friends. A goblin raiding party attacked our neighbors. Birn here rowed an hour to bring half a dozen wounded children to be treated by our wise woman."
Birn looked up, unflinching as the woman in question tightened a bandage around his right hand. "Most of our warriors are away, on a trading expedition. Our women and older children even now fight the fires the creatures have set. Our own wise woman was ripped apart by their dogs."
Jendara shook her head. This was bad news. With the benefit of surprise, a crew of goblins could wreck an entire village. Those people needed help. But she didn't have time to go on a rescue mission. She had a son to find. She began to turn away from the speakers, but paused as her eye caught movement at the front of the room. A towheaded boy hurried toward the man in the red cloak. She would have recognized him anywhere.
She tugged Yul's fur vest. "That's the one who stole my boy's tassel."
He frowned. "My nephew, Oric. We'll have to wait for the meeting to finish before we approach my brother."
Jendara shifted on impatient feet, listening as the warriors around her suggested and discarded course after course of action. Several of the women spoke quietly to the wise woman and then hurried off to their duties: preparing the warriors' fighting gear, gathering medicine, darting over to the wise woman's cottage to tend the injured children. Even if this was her home village, Jendara knew she wouldn't be joining them. She had taken on a warrior's life when she joined the pirate crew, closing the door on such domestic fellowship.
Yul caught her attention and they pushed forward through the crowd. His brother had neatly divided the group into parties, and now he clasped wrists with each of the men he'd commanded to lead. For a moment, Jendara pitied the goblins. These men knew battle, with their seamed faces and silvered scars. Most islanders practiced trade as the seasons turned, but in a land of quick tempers and fierce pride, everyone brought their shields and belt axes to the trading table.
"Yul." The leader clapped his brother on the shoulder. "I thought you'd stay with your wife. Her belly is fit to burst."
"Ayuh, her time is near." Yul leaned closer to his brother's ear. "I didn't come to volunteer, Morul. I came to ask you about your boy. I fear he brought harm to a visitor, the son of my new friend Jendara."
"Islanders give little credit to a mainlander like Vorrin."
The light-haired boy crept back into the shadows behind his father. Jendara narrowed her eyes at him.
Morul grunted. "There's a boatload of injured here to tend, and a second to follow. There are goblins on Black Bay Island and no idea how they got there. I've got a war party to lead and defenses ready. I've no time to talk about children."
"I'll help with your goblins if you help with my boy," Jendara interjected. "Just need a word with your son, that's all. Get my boy back safe."
Morul looked Jendara from head to toe. He could be Yul's twin, he looked so much like the craggy farmer, and a sharp intelligence flared behind his blue eyes. The islanders followed him not just for his brawn, but his brain. "Why are you so worried about your boy, woman?"
She set her jaw. "He's a mute. Plenty of folks reckon that's reason enough to give him trouble."
Morul nodded. "Ayuh, that's reason to worry." He glanced at her belt axe. "You any good with that thing?"
Vorrin spoke first. "I served beside her in many battles. She's faster and meaner than any man I've ever sailed with." Beside him, Tam nodded.
The leader of the islanders looked unimpressed.
Jendara tried not to shift impatiently. Her father would have never taken Vorrin's word, either. "My father led the men of his island in twenty-five battles and never lost a one. He trained me like I was his son, and kept me at his right hand for six trading parlays."
"And his name?"
"Erik Eriksson the White."
Both Yul and Morul looked pleased. It was not a great or famous name, but well traveled. Like her abilities with axe and sword, trade was in Jendara's blood naturally. Everyone knew Erik Eriksson the White.
"A fine man and long missed. I will accept your offer of help against the goblins." Morul turned to the boy. "Oric is a boy for pranks. Come here, lad."
The tow-headed boy slunk toward them, his hands twisted behind his back.
"Show me the tassel," Jendara snapped. Kran would have been familiar with the steely tone.
Oric put out his hand, the yellow tassel sitting on his palm. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Morul cuffed the side of the boy's head. "An islander speaks with pride even if he fears his punishment."
"I'm sorry!" Oric barked, stiffening his spine.
Jendara took the tassel. "Do you know where the mute boy—my son—went?"
Oric nodded. He cleared his throat. "Some visitor men on the pier told us you were a pirate. So we told Kran he ought to visit the pirate caves at the end of the island. That's all."
Jendara glanced at the tassel and raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, we took his hat and we messed around with it. And we told him he was nothing but a chicken liver if he didn't go down to the caves and come back with gold to prove he'd been there. But that's it! He even took his hat back." He looked up at her, then added in a mumble, "He gave my cousin a black eye."
Jendara felt a moment's pride for her boy, quickly overrun by anxiety. "Caves?"
Morul's lips thinned. "I doubt he went too far in, but it's an extensive network. Oric, take the visitors to our home. Get lights and rope."
Jendara nodded. "We'll join you as soon as we can. Thank you for your help."
She followed Oric out of the meetinghouse, the others following behind. Yul tapped her shoulder, his face troubled.
"I must go home to my wife now, but I wish you luck in your mission."
She thanked him for his help, and clapped him on the arm before hurrying after the others. Oric moved swiftly, gathering supplies from the family storehouse and then leading the rescue party down the beach. The sun's rays cast long, pale fingers of light across the sea, their touch failing to ease the chill in Jendara's heart. Goblins to fight, her son exploring in the darkness—it all felt like bad omens.
They rounded the headland of the beach, and she could see the caves cut into the cliffs at its end. There were multiple openings at different points in the rock face, and for the first time, her own fear touched her, freezing her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She was a child of open farmland and open sea. She had never been in a cave before.
"Kran!"
Tam shook his head. "Spare your voice, lady. The way the waves echo in there, ain't no point shouting." He turned to Vorrin. "You mind if I lead? I grew up playing in caves like these."
Vorrin happily agreed.
Tam stopped a moment to light the lanterns Oric had brought for them. He smiled at the boy, who looked anxious. "Why don't you be our lookout, lad? If we need help, we'll shout for you, and you can run back to the village."
"I can do that, sir."
"Great. Then let's go into the first cave. It looks like it's right at the water line and the easiest to get into."
Jendara eyeballed the rocks flanking the cave's entrance. They looked rough and slick, the waves spitting up foam that clung to their dark flanks. One misstep, and a boy would tumble into the water. A boy or his mother, she reminded herself. She was glad she had a good sense of balance after working on ships all these years.
The yellow glow of Tam's lantern lit up the dark hollow of the cave, and as Jendara followed behind him, her own light redoubled the glow. It wasn't much of a cave, just ten or twelve feet gnawed into the cliff wall. A battered rowboat bobbed on the waves, as if sheltering peacefully while waiting for its owner.
"What's this?" Tam murmured, peering inside. He jumped back, nearly toppling off the rock he'd been balancing on.
"What is it?" Vorrin asked.
But Jendara could see for herself the still figure at the bottom of the boat, the long white hair and singed black cloak. The wise woman from Black Bay Island.
Tam leaned over again, his nose wrinkling as he pointed out a smear of dung on the gunwale. "I'm not sure, but this looks like goblin dog to me."
Jendara balled her hands into fists. The sliver of ice burning down the back of her neck had been a true warning, not the trite discomfort of an overprotective mother. There were goblins on this island, and given goblins' love for dark holes in the ground, the little bastards were probably exploring the same damn cave her son was.
"Well, whatever it is, one thing's for sure," Tam said slowly.
"What?" Jendara growled.
"No one's in this cave."
They picked their way out of the lowest sea cave and stared up at the other entrances. The cave mouths looked far above the beach, dark and unwelcoming. The sun sank another degree lower in the sky.
"Time to climb." Jendara slung her length of rope over her shoulder and reached for the first handhold in the cliff face.
Somewhere above, something wailed, its voice hollow and unbearably sad.
Coming Next Week: The stunning conclusion of Wendy Wagner's "Mother Bears."
Wendy N. Wagner is the author of short stories in such anthologies and magazines as Armored, Way of the Wizard, Rigor Amortis, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and more. She is a regular contributor to inkpunks.com, and can be found online at winniewoohoo.com.
Avast! We've stolen your weekly Advanced Race Guide* preview because the Skull & Shackles Adventure Path starts now! Download the free Skull & Shackles Player's Guide, full of ideas and advice to help create all sorts of scallywags, swashbucklers, and other seaworthy characters perfect for this piratical campaign. Also, look inside for a preview of some of the high-seas challenges and new subsystems you can expect to see featured in the most grog-guzzling, plank-walking, keelhauling Pathfinder Adventure Path to date.
If you haven't already made your mark and subscribed to Pathfinder Adventure Path for the Skull & Shackles Adventure Path, there's still time. But Pathfinder Adventure Path #55: "The Wormwood Mutiny" releases soon, so get onboard before this ship leaves port!
F. Wesley Schneider Captaining Editor
*We'll give it back to later in the week... if ye be lucky. Yarr!
Pathfinder Society in Denmark (or Tidings from the Viking Lodge)
Monday, April 9, 2012
Illustration by J.P. Targete
Last month, we highlighted the UK and Venture-Captain David Harrison's efforts to grow Pathfinder Society there. We now shift our focus to the north and the land of the Vikings. Venture-Captain Diego Winterborg's report on Pathfinder Society in Denmark was a very interesting read for me and I hope all of you find it informative as well.
Denmark is a Scandinavian country made up of a peninsula that is geographically joined to Northern Germany, called Jutland, and a large number of islands southwest of Sweden, the largest of which are Funen and Zealand. Its size and population are roughly the equivalent of Tennessee. Greenland and the Faroe Islands are part of the Danish Rigsfællesskab, or Commonwealth.
The Pathfinder Society Organized Play campaign made its arrival in Denmark in February 2010 when a few friends and I went to a small RPG convention in the town of Odense. Danish RPG conventions are, by their nature, rather small events, and are largely dominated by indie games and a lot of deep-immersion, psychodrama players, so it goes without saying that we made quite an impression with our loud combat-heavy, dice-rolling RPG, which we ran in the convention's common area, for all to see. While we fully expected a lot of people would be provoked by our very different approach to gaming, it gave us an excellent opportunity to engage them in a discussion about the merits of “our game.” By the end of the convention, what started out as a four-man event had drawn in a score of new players and totaled some 10 sessions.
During the summer of 2010, we arranged a game day in honor of then Pathfinder Society Campaign Coordinator, Joshua J. Frost, who was making Copenhagen his first stop on his European tour. His tour culminated at Paizo Con UK that year. Frost was very keen on having a solid PFS presence in Europe, and in Denmark I volunteered for the position of regional coordinator. That is how Denmark, being a small country by most standards, was fortunate enough to be assigned a Venture-Captain with the first round of selections, when the program was born in the fall of 2010.
Early in the fall of 2010, the first game days were planned at the game store, Fantask, in Copenhagen. While the venue is very small and only allows for a single session every other weekend, it has been very reliable and has been a constant for over a year.
Pathfinder Society has since had annual representation in Denmark's two largest gaming conventions, Viking Con and Fastaval, as well as other smaller conventions and game days in and around Copenhagen.
This winter Jacob Trier, who had just recovered from serious illness, volunteered for the position as Venture-Lieutenant based in Jutland. This addition will ensure a stronger presence in the western half of Denmark. By next month, regular store games are expected to start in Dragon's Lair in the city of Aarhus and this year's Fastaval convention will have a locally based Pathfinder Society coordinator.
In 2011, Viking Con and Fastaval had nine Pathfinder Society tables each. This was satisfactory as a very small core of players and GMs drove our continued interest in Pathfinder. This year, however, we are seeing the emergence of more private gaming groups and expect to have a growing GM base for 2012's events.
The primary Pathfinder Society events scheduled for 2012 in Denmark are:
Spilfestival, on March 24, features Blood under Absalom as its highlighted event. This marks a milestone for the Pathfinder Society in Denmark as it is the first time a Pathfinder Society multi-table special will be run here.
Fastaval, April 4–8: Danish Pathfinder players will get their first opportunity to play the Season 3 exclusive, The Cyphermage Dilemma. We have 15 tables scheduled over the four days.
Viking Lodge Game Days are planned for July 28–29. Started in 2010, this is fast becoming a Danish tradition. The plans for this event are still in the planning stages. Participants can count on being among a good number of Paizo fans and having a full day of Pathfinder Society games, followed by a night out in Copenhagen afterward.
Viking Con 31, October 19—21, is Denmark's largest gaming convention and we will certainly have something special to offer to Pathfinder Society players.
Danish Pathfinder Society events are also receiving a measure of Paizo convention support, which hopefully will increase interest and send a strong signal that Paizo pays attention to its international fans.
To facilitate continued growth of Pathfinder Society, we are making plans with public libraries to start having monthly game days. The success of this plan is still dependant on GMs volunteering to run games. Initially, I am planning game days in Copenhagen libraries only. But, the public library network in Denmark is rather extensive and Pathfinder Society has the potential to reach veritably every Danish roleplayer interested in participating in an organized play campaign.
This brings me to one of my most important points about roleplaying in Denmark. The RPGA and Living Greyhawk never established themselves in our country, and the very concept of an organized play campaign is very new to Danish gamers. According to my friendly local gaming store, Pathfinder RPG sales are increasing, and continued convention scheduling and internet exposition is bound to draw players into the fold one handful at a time. While events to date remain small, we always know we will be among friends as we strive to continue increasing our numbers.
If you live in Denmark or Southern Sweden and are interested in trying out Pathfinder Society Organized Play, you can keep up with our growing community on our website, pathfindersociety.dk. Danish convention organizers and store owners interested in hosting Pathfinder Society events should contact me at pathfinder.society@live.dk.
Diego Winterborg Venture-Captain
If you are in another country and do not have a Venture-Captain, but think you can do as good a job as Diego did above, please do not hesitate to send me a write-up about Pathfinder Society play in your area of the world and include some photos.
Mike Brock Pathfinder Society Campaign Coordinator
For my money, that three-verse song from the opening encounter of "Burnt Offerings," the very first Pathfinder Adventure Path adventure, is as responsible as anything for the huge success of the Pathfinder Adventure Path line. Over the years (and really more or less immediately), gamers began to equate Pathfinder with goblins, and the creepy little critters (as envisioned by artist Wayne Reynolds and Paizo creative director James Jacobs, the song's author) soon became a sort of unofficial mascot for the Pathfinder brand.
The Rise of the Runelords Pathfinder Battles fantasy miniature set gave us a great opportunity to revisit the first Pathfinder adventures, and we knew we needed to include as many goblins in the set that we could.
This week, I thought I'd show off most of the goblin miniatures from the Rise of the Runelords set to celebrate the fact that at long last, we're ready to reveal the set's product descriptions, prices, and case configurations!
I'll get to that a bit later. First, let's talk about goblins!
First up we have the common Goblin Commando, an elite goblin troop to supplement the Goblin Warrior or Goblin Hero from Heroes & Monsters. As you'll note in the Goblin Song above, goblins are no fans of horses, which is why this trooper's makeshift pole-arm is called a horsechopper.
Mounts beware!
Speaking of Goblin Commandos and mounts, here we have the vicious Goblin Commando on Goblin Dog, an uncommon figure that plays prominently in several encounters of "Burnt Offerings," especially in the raid on the town of Sandpoint that kicks off the entire campaign. August's Rise of the Runelords Anniversary Edition expands this encounter, working Flip-Mat: Town Square to set the scene. All you need to make it perfect is to add miniatures, and this guy is designed specifically for that purpose.
Here we have the leader of the goblins harrying Sandpoint, Warchief Ripnugget on Stickfoot. This teensie tyrant barks orders at his tribe from the back of a giant gecko, making the PCs' encounter with him (and with this rare miniature) one they won't soon forget.
There are at least two more goblin-related miniatures coming in later previews, so if you can hear one of the twisted verses of James Jacobs's Goblin Song echoing over the horizon, it's because we're not quite done with goblins yet!
The Nitty Gritty
We've been teasing product details for months, and I'm pleased to report that everything has finally fallen into place so that we can reveal all of the little details about the size of the set, when it will come out, and how the cases will be packaged. Click through to the various product pages for price and additional details.
Pathfinder Battles: Rise of the Runelords Set Details
Release Date: August 2012 Set Size: 65 prepainted plastic miniatures
The Standard Booster
Rise of the Runelords Standard Boosters contain four collectible miniatures. Each blind box contains a random selection of miniatures from the set, including one Large figure and three Medium or Small figures. Many figures feature colored clear plastic spell effects, crystals, and the like, and these figures range from monsters to important NPCs to Pathfinder iconic characters like Seoni and Harsk.
Standard Boosters come in the following configurations:
Single Standard Booster
8-ct. Standard Booster Brick
32-ct. Standard Booster Case (4 bricks)
The Huge Booster
The Rise of the Runelords set contains four Huge figures, from the Treachery Demon to the Lamia Harridan (shown below) to two figures we haven't revealed yet. The large size and relatively small number of these figures makes it impractical to include them in the Standard Booster, so WizKids created a new product configuration: The Rise of the Runelords Huge Booster. Each blind-boxed Huge Booster contains a single Huge figure from the Rise of the Runelords set.
Huge Boosters come in the following configurations:
Single Huge Booster
6-ct. Huge Booster Case
The Rune Giant
As we revealed last week, the biggest miniature in the set is the towering Rune Giant, our first Gargantuan miniature! The Rune Giant has been produced in extremely limited quantities, and is available for purchase only to retailers (from their distributor), paizo.com Pathfinder Battles case subscribers, and customers who pre-order a Standard case (while supplies last). For more details, visit the Rune Giant product page.
Subscribers
Customers with an Ongoing Pathfinder Battles Case Subscription receive the right to purchase the Rune Giant at 75% off the listed retail price, and are guaranteed access to this extremely rare figure at a rate of one per case ordered. They'll also receive a coupon code good for 20% off the purchase price of one Encounter Pack (such as Champions of Evil) and the standard 20% case subscriber discount on all Pathfinder Battles singles purchases made on paizo.com.
Completing the Set
We've worked hard with WizKids to pack the cases in such a way that customers who purchase a case of Standard Boosters, a case of Huge Boosters, and the Rune Giant can reasonably expect to complete the entire 65-figure set. While we cannot guarantee that this will happen due to the unlikely potential of packing errors at the factory, the intention is that a full line of cases will get a nearly complete set.
So that's it! The long-awaited full details on the long-awaited Rise of the Runelords Pathfinder Battles set!
Next week we'll be mack with more previews and more exciting miniatures reveals!
We're just a few weeks away from shipping out the first chapter of the Skull & Shackles Adventure Path to subscribers. To get your peg legs itching, here are two pieces of art from Pathfinder Adventure Path #55: The Wormwood Mutiny. Both depict life aboard a pirate ship, albeit on different sides of the coin. Whether you find infamy and plunder upon the high seas or end up swabbing the decks, anchors are lifting soon and the life of a pirate awaits! Be sure to check back next week for the release of the free Skull & Shackles Player's Guide.
Illustrations by Craig J Spearing and Mariusz Gandzel
Kran tapped his slate, louder this time, and Jendara gave in, looking up from her ledger. The boy's blue eyes gleamed as his chalk squeaked, underlining the word "please" a second time—his equivalent of begging. Jendara's lips moved as she read the note.
"You want to play marbles on the beach? With some village boys?"
He nodded his head, making the yellow tassels of his cap dance. The tip of his nose was pink from the cold sea air.
She grunted. "Just don't take too long. Captain Vorrin wants to catch the outgoing tide, and that means all packed up by sunset."
He swiped his slate with his sleeve, scribbled a thanks, and then darted down the gangplank. Jendara's eyes followed him along the pier until he cut over to the small strip of beach. She trusted Kran more than most mothers trusted their eight-year-olds, but she liked knowing where he was. He didn't get social invitations very often. There weren't many on the islands who could read, or who'd go near a god-touched boy with no speech.
She realized she was holding her quill too tightly, and put it down. Anyway, someone was approaching the ship-turned-market square: a big man with the dung-crusted boots of an island farmer. He reminded Jendara of her father, and she tried not to smile at him. Bad enough being a woman in this business; it wouldn't do to look soft.
"You got something real heavy in that pack of yours." She cleared the ledger and writing case off the table to make room for his wares. She'd been buying lots of ivory and whalebone this trip—always in high demand on the mainland—but whatever he carried in his pack looked soft. Furs, maybe.
"Ayuh. It's a load alright." The man dropped his bag with a thud that made the table creak. He undid the knotted ties and the sack slid open, revealing a pile of deep brown furs.
"What did you catch?" The fur felt sleek and oily beneath her fingers, the hairs coarse.
He didn't answer at first, working with the bag. Now Jendara could see that this great mass wasn't a stack of pelts, but one magnificent hide, and her heart quickened. This could be worth a lot of gold to the right buyer.
He began unfolding the hide. "It's big."
"Grizzly?"
"Ayuh." He shifted on his feet, frowning as he recollected. "It was in with the sheep, killing anything that moved. Had to protect my stock."
A paw hit the ship's deck, and she could see claws longer than her own hand. She couldn't imagine facing something so huge gone on a killing spree. "How'd you kill it?"
"Arrow through the eye. Then I jumped on its back and cut its throat." He'd uncovered the head, well cured and massive, but marred by a white patch of fur like a lightning bolt down the nose. "Woulda kept it, but the wife said it was probably unlucky, way it was acting. Figured you'd give me a fair price for it."
Jendara mentally calculated a few figures. It was a good pelt, and she knew a dealer in Magnimar looking for quality winter furs. She named her price, and the farmer grinned hugely. He spat on his palm and stuck it out, just as her father had done every deal he ever struck. She spat on her own and shook as fiercely as he did.
"We should drink. This deal is good for both of us."
"Yul is a typical islander—gruff and hard, but kind all the same."
She looked out at the docks. No one else approached, and the sun was already low in the sky. She doubted anyone further would be looking to trade with her. "All right."
Someone laid a hand on her shoulder. "You two mind a little company?"
Jendara shrugged. She hadn't heard Vorrin behind her, but wasn't surprised by his sudden appearance. Her husband, Ikran, had asked Vorrin to look after her and Kran as he'd lain bleeding out on the deck of a captured caravel. She couldn't hold it against either of them, much as she wanted to.
"You have a name, Bear Hunter?" Vorrin put out his hand. "I'm Vorrin, captain of this ship."
The farmer's lips thinned as he took Vorrin's measure. Vorrin's close-cropped black hair and thin mustache were a strike against him here on the archipelago. His accent, city-fine, didn't help. The farmer hooked his thumbs in his belt, a conspicuous rejection of the hand. "I am Yul."
"Lead us to the nearest ale, friend." Jendara stepped between the two men, hurrying Yul down the gangplank. She could feel Vorrin's eyes on her back, and could easily imagine the irritated expression. He abided the Ironbound Archipelago because she wanted to do business here, because he loved his nephew and believed in keeping his word. But he didn't like this cold, rough land.
The crunch of gravel beneath her boots made Jendara smile. It had been one thing to leave the islands for the man she loved, but she'd never felt right when she was away. Here the stone lay just beneath the tough heath, and the beaches were long stretches of gray rock and gravel. Even the land was hard here. It went without saying that the people worked hard, fought hard, and grew hard as frozen leather under the wind's cold buffeting.
But business had been brisk in this town, and the wind a constant reminder that she had a trade route to finish before the winter sea grew too rough for Vorrin's ship, the Milady. Jendara hadn't taken a moment to visit the village. It wasn't so different from the place where she'd grown up. The steep peaks of the house roofs stood out from the green turf climbing up the walls, the houses themselves snuggled down into the earth. They could withstand any storm, stay warm in any gale—little tough houses for big tough people.
A donkey huffed at her as they passed a lean-to where animals could wait out of the weather. Jendara patted its shaggy head and then hurried to catch up as Yul pushed opened the nearest door, releasing the pungent tang of peat smoke and spilled ale.
Jendara stepped inside and was struck by the realization that she had been here before. She could remember sitting at the little bar, rubbing oils into the backs of her still-itching hands, tossing back drinks that burned her throat but eased the fresh sting of the tattoos. She touched the back of her hand, the now-old ink covered by fingerless gloves. She could easily imagine the black jolly rogers beneath the wool, puffy and peeling as they had that night. So it must have been the end of her first pirate tour, pockets loaded and a lust to prove herself filling her heart.
Yul nodded at the barkeep, a shaven-headed man as broad as Yul and just as bearded. The man filled three tankards in quick succession, sliding them down the bar without a word. Jendara drank a long pull of the foaming stuff.
"Well, well, if it ain't the famous Jendara. I thought the rumors of you turning respectable were gullshit, but look at you out here, drinking with the farmers."
Jendara put down her tankard with deliberate softness. She turned to face the voice—one of those nasty, thin voices she'd come to associate with cowards. There was no point ignoring it: men like this only responded to intimidation. She folded her arms across her sheepskin vest and let her ice-blue eyes speak for her.
A short and dirty man stood in front of the nearest table, where a knot of men sat drinking. The little man sneered. He wasn't a native—the brown hair and narrow jaw, far too small for all his yellow teeth, proved that. From the waves of fish stench wafting off his layered sweaters, she imagined him a very minor pirate who made ends meet by fishing.
The worst kind of pirate. The jolly rogers on the back of her hands felt suddenly hot, as if Besmara, chief bitch and goddess of all pirates, agreed with Jendara's pronouncement.
She peeled off her gloves slowly, letting everyone in the bar see the tattoos.
"Jenny, Jenny, Jenny." The weasely man took a swig of beer and grinned down at her. She remembered him now. He'd once asked Ikran for a position on their boat, and she'd had to throw him overboard when he didn't like Ikran's answer. Gorg. That was his name.
Gorg's grin grew wider as he leaned toward her. "You still watching over that mute brat of yours?"
The jolly roger seemed to laugh as her knuckles connected with Gorg's face, splitting the skin over his cheekbone with the force of the blow. He screamed and dropped to his knees—not incapacitated, but going for his boot knife. Jendara lashed out with her heel, launching the man backward across the room.
She hadn't paid attention to other men at the table, but they must have been Gorg's friends, because they exploded up from their seats, snarling. Men screamed. Knives hissed free of their scabbards. Jendara laughed and slipped her axe free of her belt.
The weapon's haft shook with its own mirth as she brought the blunt end down on a man's skull, then jerked her arm backward, slamming the handle's butt into another man's solar plexus. Both sailors dropped. Jendara looked around for more, but Grog was already draped senseless across a chair, and the last of his companions was currently dangling from Vorrin's fist, toes not quite touching the floor.
The tavern door flew open, the low light of afternoon like a lighthouse beam cutting through the thick air. A man stood framed in the doorway. Jendara recognized him as Vorrin's first mate. Silence filled the room.
Vorrin released the man he'd been holding up by the sweater-front. The sailor crumpled to the ground. "Tam? Something the matter?"
"Ayuh." The word reminded Jendara that Tam was a fellow islander. He hesitated in the doorway.
"Well what, man?"
"It's the boy." Tam stepped inside, bobbing his head uncomfortably. "I saw a whole group of lads come racing up from the beach, laughing like loons. But Kran weren't with 'em."
Jendara felt her knees go soft, and she put her hand down on the bar to steady herself.
"Looked down the beach, but there weren't no sign of the boy. Figured we ought to go look for him."
Jendara sheathed her axe and moved toward the door. Vorrin clapped his hand on her shoulder. "Don't go off half-cocked."
She shook his hand loose. "I've got to find my son."
"No purpose going by yourself," Yul warned. "Folks don't tolerate strangers around here."
Jendara's lips thinned. She knew it was true—knew the close-knittedness of islanders—but resented it anyway. "He isn't like other boys. There's been trouble other places."
Yul didn't ask for details, but opened the door. "I'll help you look for him."
Jendara nodded curtly, rage boiling her veins, some of it residual, some of it the goddess's, and most of it for anyone who might hurt her child. Beyond Yul's shoulder, a knot of sniggering boys huddled under the lean-to where the donkey had waited. A growl bubbled up in Jendara's throat.
But she did, just from their wicked laughter, their covert glances. She did know, from the hush that fell over the little group as they saw the strangers coming their way. A shiver of cold warning ran down her spine.
One of the boys held a yellow tassel between his fingers. A yellow tassel just like the ones she'd sewn onto Kran's hat.
Coming Next Week: A mother's fury in Chapter Two of Wendy Wagner's "Mother Bears."
Wendy N. Wagner is the author of short stories in such anthologies and magazines as Armored, Way of the Wizard, Rigor Amortis, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and more. She is a regular contributor to inkpunks.com, and can be found online at winniewoohoo.com.
After five rounds of intensive competition, amateur game designer Mike Welham has won RPG Superstar 2012!
RPG Superstar is the largest annual tabletop roleplaying design contest. The popular vote of paizo.com's more than 200,000-strong fan community chose Mike Welham's Doom Comes to Dustpawn Pathfinder Module proposal. Welham will receive a contract to write the full adventure for Doom Comes to Dustpawn, which will be released in January, 2013.
On behalf of the judges and Paizo Publishing, as well as the many voters, congratulations again to the rest of our Top 4 contestants Steve Miller, James Olchak, and Tom Phillips.
We've been talking about it for many months now, but we're finally getting close to the release of the Advanced Race Guide. So, the time has come to start giving you some previews of this hefty tome of racial options and lore.
To start, I thought I'd give you an overview of what to expect in the book. Inside, you will find four large, meaty chapters, filled with rules and information concerning all of the core races and just about every player-friendly race you'll find in the Bestiary, Bestiary 2, or Bestiary 3. The first chapter covers the core races, giving you ten pages of information about the race, including new alternate racial traits, favored class options (for all of the classes), archetypes, feats, gear, spells, and magic items. Following this up in the second chapter are sixteen races given six full pages each to explore new options, including alternate racial traits, a handful of favored class options, archetypes, and some additional rules to round out your choices. While not as common as the core races, any one of these selected races would make for a fine PC or companion (with your GM's approval, of course). Finally, we shift focus to fifteen uncommon races. Each one of these gets two pages, presenting race history, a few alternate traits, favored class options, an archetype a few additional rules to get you going.
After giving you a mountain of racial options for 38 different races, you'd think we would be just about out of space, but no. The final chapter of the book contains a complete system for designing your own races, balancing them against the others in the book, or even going above and beyond, creating more powerful races that emulate monsters from a Bestiary or your own imagination. This system went through a significant playtest a while back, and we think that with the final tuning, you're really going to enjoy tinkering with this system.
But enough of my rambling. Let me give you a brief preview of what you can expect in Chapter One of the book. Take a look at this art from the stonelord paladin archetype found in the dwarf section. This guy slowly transforms into stone as he goes up in level, gaining DR, a host of immunities, and the ability to summon a small earth elemental to serve him! Next week, we will continue to explore Chapter One, looking at some leafy friends.
I almost lined this holiday boon up perfectly with its in-game date and real-world date. When I realized it was my 6-month anniversary (wow, time flies), I was torn. What better way to celebrate than to help Pathfinders fight undead? But I felt my state of PFS blog was slightly more important, so I delayed this holiday blog for a week.
Managing Editor F. Wesley Schneider wrote the description below of Conquest Day, and where you’ll also find a special Pathfinder Society Chronicle sheet you can download and apply to a Pathfinder Society character. Conquest Day is mentioned on page 248 of The Inner Sea World Guide.
Every year, on the 26th of Pharast, Elder Architect Oblosk—oldest member of Nex’s Council of Three and Nine—ascends to the highest balconies of the Bandeshar in Quantium. In a voice made thunderous by the platform’s magic, the wizened pech councilman spends the hours from dusk to just past noon enumerating the atrocities committed by the necromancers of Geb upon the people of Nex, culminating with the disappearance of the archwizard Nex himself. At the conclusion of this record of national wounds, the country’s eleven other council members join Oblosk in renewing their yearly vow to neither forget nor forgive the Gebbites’ atrocities and to again swear in their lost ruler’s name to endlessly wage war against their ancient enemies.
On this day, known as Conquest Day, all the people of Nex are expected to share in their leaders’ oaths, to celebrate the shared patriotism of their wondrous nation, and to remember the sacrifices of heroes past. This also makes it a day for many Nexian wizards to reveal deadly new spells, gigantic constructs, and audacious arcane masterworks—which many creators promise to be the doom of their foes. Even throughout the rest of the Inner Sea region, many crusaders, rebels, and zealots observe Conquest Day as a day to renew blood oaths, launch long-planned battles, and finally take revenge. It is a day for words of honor, a day for battle cries, and a day where glory most favors the bold.
A bit dreary with all the talk of battles and undead and disappearing archwizards and the like, but hey, at least it is better than Taxfest (and yes, that’s also on page 248).
Mike Brock Pathfinder Society Campaign Coordinator
Things are moving fast and furious on the Pathfinder Battles front, with the Rise of the Runelords set moving ever closer to its August release. We're currently designing the packaging for the set, and I can say with confidence that we will be posting full product release details such as price and product configuration in next week's preview blog.
Before that happens, though, we've got one more standard preview, and in honor of the gremlins who have kept some of the details secret and prevented us from posting the product pages to date, I've decided to dedicate this week's preview blog... TO EVIL!
First up this week we have the ancient lich Azaven, a key villain from the second half of the Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path. Some of you may remember Azaven as Kazaven, his original name. We changed it in the upcoming hardcover collection of the campaign to prevent confusion with the dragon Kazavon from Curse of the Crimson Throne and Varisia's Kazaron River. I still remember the day five years ago when the Adventure Path staff realized it had used three nearly identical names in less than a year, and the new edition of the campaign was the perfect chance to make this minor change to clear up any lingering confusion.
Azaven's name may have changed, but he's still as treacherous and imposing as ever. This rare miniature has a cool crown and a gnarled staff. With pallid skin and a scraggly beard, Azaven represents a lich that hasn't quite rotted away to a skeletal state like the one in Heroes & Monsters. I think the two of them make a nice team, and I'm sure your players will too!
The image shown here is a paint master. The final production miniature will have additional painted detail on the hem of his cloak.
A lich not evil enough for you? How about a half-demon filled with the pure evil of the Abyss? Did I mention she's quite the looker? This gorgeous Alu-Fiend figure is a common, because you "get" to fight a bunch of them in the Rise of the Runelords campaign. They make great minions for the Succubus from Heroes & Monsters.
This is one of those miniatures that you can't believe is a common when you hold it in-hand. The detail on the open hand, the face, and the back of the outfit is just breathtaking, and I'm not just saying that because this figure is a serious hottie.
Last up this week is the Yeth Hound, a traditional canine foe with a long history in mythology, fantasy fiction, and fantasy gaming. Yeth Hounds are particularly honored allies of the twisted aasimar villain Nualia we showed off a few weeks ago, but they also make devastating enemies in their own right.
They're common, making it easy to build an encounter with a pack of these fearsome creatures.
So that's it! The last preview before you can click through and start ordering these miniatures directly off the product page.
Thanks for being patient with the product details. It's almost impossible to believe, but there are still several awesome minis we have yet to reveal. Be here next week to be among the first to see the next batch!
The paizo.com homepage in late 2003 showing off our ability to take subscriptions!
As January 2003 rolled in, the rose-colored glasses that accompany any new venture had faded, and it had become obvious to me that relying on the expertise of others wasn't working out—I needed to gain a full understanding of the complex magazine business myself. So I spent many a long hour in the offices of Paizo's resident magazine gurus, Publisher Johnny Wilson and Circulation Manager Pierce Watters, asking questions and challenging common practices. I also took the month of February to lock myself in my home office and pore over all the financial data we had, looking for better ways to make a profit in the magazine business.
One thing that made my analysis difficult is that we didn't yet have final sales figures on a single Paizo issue. While the publishing part of the magazine business happens at a breakneck pace, the distribution end of things operates at near-glacial speeds. Newsstands and bookstores have the ability to return unsold magazines for up to ten months after they're no longer available for sale, so the distributor holds back part of the publisher's revenue from sales as a reserve against these late returns. So, even though we had sent out first issues to the printer in July 2002, we wouldn't have final sales figures for those issues until late summer. And those were issues that had begun life under Wizards of the Coast; we wouldn't see final figures for the first magazines that Paizo was entirely responsible for until late 2003, nearly a year and a half after we started.
This also means that it took us ages to see the results of changes we made. If we came up with an idea for a particular issue, it would take a couple of months for that idea to reach the newsstand, and by the time we had final sales figures on that issue, a full year had passed. We liked to imagine that making running changes to a magazine must be a lot like trying to turn an oil tanker in the dark with no instruments.
One of the first things we figured out was that we were paying too much to have an outside firm handle our subscriptions. I did an in-depth analysis of where the money from a subscription goes, and determined that there was very little margin for error. If we needed to send out a single replacement for a lost issue, it pretty much destroyed any profit we might have had on that subscription. If we needed to send more than one renewal notice, same thing. And the fees that our subscription service charged made things even worse.
But bringing subscriptions in-house was a big task. Our staff was set up to create magazines; we didn't have the customer service or data management people we'd need to handle subscriptions ourselves. We figured out quickly that we needed to take advantage of the internet to cut down on the costs for data entry and sending renewal notices. If we could get subscribers to move away from sending in checks in response to mailed renewal notices, shifting them to renewing online with notices delivered by email, we could actually begin to make some profit on subscriptions. But that meant we'd need a website that could process credit cards and a robust database to keep track of customers and issues sent. At the time, nobody in the world provided e-commerce solutions for managing magazine subscriptions over the web.
Enter Rob Head, one of Vic's friends from high school who had been working at Amazon. We hired him to create our very own subscription fulfillment system from scratch—a system that has successfully evolved to support all of the business we do today. (Rob also provided Paizo with our first unofficial motto: "We suck less every day.")
We also needed to make changes to the magazines themselves. At the time, Dungeon magazine was bimonthly, but with each issue having a higher page count than the monthly Dragon. I quickly figured out that we would need to charge close to $12.99 per issue to bring in the same profit as the smaller Dragon issues, and that just wasn't feasible on the newsstand. So, in May, Dungeon/Polyhedron went monthly with a smaller page count and a lower cover price.
But the most important development for Dungeon in 2003 was a bit more subtle: the debut of our first ever Adventure Path, The Shackled City, in the March/April issue. The idea for running a full-length campaign in Dungeon, one adventure at a time, predates the start of Paizo, but the process of turning that idea into reality took long enough that the concept only saw fruition in our hands. Dungeon #97 included Chris Perkins's "Life's Bazaar" adventure, set in the town of Cauldron. The reaction to The Shackled City was nothing short of fantastic, yet little did we realize that the Adventure Path would eventually become our flagship brand, and our salvation in our most difficult time.
Dungeon #97 also marked the debut of our first PDF product, a free web enhancement containing extra content that we couldn't fit into the issue. In the future, PDFs would become a huge part of Paizo's success, but at the time, it was just a way to keep Chris Perkins's overwriting from ending up on the cutting room floor!
Later in the year, Chris once again wrote too much, leading to our first for-sale PDF, the Tu'narath City Guide supplement for Dungeon #100. This PDF provided an entire githyanki city to go with our Incursion super-event, a huge crossover that ran in Dragon #309, Dungeon #100, and Polyhedron #159, each cover featuring one part of a three-piece mega-cover by Wayne Reynolds. (Wayne's original triptych hangs in my office today.)
The following issue of Dragon, #310, had the first-ever 3.5 DM Screen polybagged with it. The screen was a huge success, driving record sell-through in stores and increasing our subscription numbers quite a bit.
I had also realized that Paizo had a bunch of resources that weren't being used to their fullest. While the editorial staffs of Dragon and Dungeon rarely had a spare moment, the editors of Star Wars Insider (which Lucasfim limited to eight issue per year) and the people who handled advertising, circulation and print brokering could easily shoulder the burden of adding a new magazine to the fold. So Johnny came up with Undefeated, a magazine about competitive games such as card games, board games, and miniatures games. When Johnny was at Wizards of the Coast, he had helmed a magazine called Top Deck, which had pretty good sales. Top Deck was linked to Magic: The Gathering, an advantage we didn't have, but we figured that if we could capture even a small amount of the Top Deck crowd with Undefeated, that would be good enough for Paizo. We did the math, and worked out that if we could just get each hobby store in the country to order two copies of each issue, we'd be set. We also knew that companies that published CCGs, board games and miniatures games had more money to spend on advertising than RPG companies, and since there were no magazines dedicated to covering them, we figured we'd be able to bring in decent advertising revenue. In addition, the fact that Paizo was built entirely on licensed magazines we didn't own—and that could someday go away—wasn't lost on me. Undefeated was our first shot at building equity in something we owned.
We announced the magazine on April 9 with the tagline "Covering Games You Can Win... Because Nobody Likes a Loser!" A stealth mission of Undefeated was to serve as a test bed for taking subscriptions in-house. On June 6, we announced that you could subscribe to Undefeated on paizo.com. We used the next few months to tweak our system, hire a full-time customer service staff, and figure out how to port all of the legacy data from our third-party fulfillment service before we moved the other three magazines' subscriptions to our website later in the year.
Undefeated was a huge part of our Gen Con push that year, as the first issue was released at the con, introducing thousands of gamers to our new baby.
Lisa Stevens and Mary Franklin address the crowd at the Brown Derby during the first Official Star Wars Fan Club breakfast.
On the Star Wars front, our primary efforts revolved around making Star Wars Insider more than just a magazine—we wanted it to be the voice of a revived Star Wars Fan Club, which had been reduced to little more than a magazine subscription over the years. The original Star Wars Fan Club offered exclusive merchandise to its members, so in that vein, we worked out a deal with Hasbro to be the exclusive seller of a special silver Boba Fett action figure. Again, there was a stealth objective here—we wanted to test our ability to take orders for and ship a product through paizo.com. The silver Fett was a huge sales success, with the barrage of people making a run on paizo.com bringing the site down for a short while and lines of folks stretching out of the Paizo booth at Origins, San Diego Comic-Con, and Gen Con.
The summer of Fett also saw us launch a series of Star Wars Fan Club Breakfasts. The first was held at the Brown Derby restaurant at Disney/MGM Studios in Orlando, coinciding with their annual Star Wars Weekends event. Hundreds of ardent Star Wars fans got up very early to get one of the coveted silver Fetts, and to meet Jeremy Bulloch and Peter Mayhew, who played Boba Fett and Chewbacca respectively. We then took the whole group into the park for an early morning Star Tours ride before the day's regular festivities kicked in.
At our other three conventions that year, we had Jeremy Bulloch and Daniel Logan (young Boba Fett in Episode II) at our booth signing silver Fetts. They were also guests at our Fan Club breakfasts at Gen Con and Comic-Con, with Star Wars author Mike Stackpole filling that role at Origins.
We also adjusted the content of Star Wars Insider to appeal more to the ranks of Star Wars collectors. In addition to including more articles on collectibles, we arranged to reveal upcoming Hasbro toys for the very first time in each installment of a new regular column called "Toybox."
Vic Wertz shows off the Holiday Yoda action figure at San Diego Comic-Con 2003.
Later in the year, Paizo spearheaded a partnership with Hasbro, Del Rey, and Scholastic to offer an exclusive Clone Wars short story collection (get the free 1 MB PDF here!) that bundled original Star Wars fiction with select Hasbro toys for the first time. And at the end of the year, we celebrated the holidays with our second exclusive Star Wars action figure, the lovable Holiday Yoda, inspired by the Christmas card artwork of Ralph McQuarrie.
The end of the year also saw a big change in the management of Paizo with the departure of Johnny Wilson. As I mentioned earlier in this blog, I spent a lot of 2003 analyzing the magazine business and coming up with ideas about how to make it work better for Paizo. This led me to clash quite a bit with Johnny as I questioned decades of common industry practices that he considered sacrosanct. Eventually, it became apparent that our differences were too vast to reconcile, so on December 8th, we announced his departure from Paizo. While this move relieved some of the pressure in the office, it also put me in a position I didn't intend to be in when we started Paizo: I was now fully in charge of a business that I had all of 18 months experience with. It was daunting, but I had a great staff. Nevertheless, I needed some additional help running the company, so I brought in Keith Strohm, whom I had worked with as part of the Dungeons & Dragons Third Edition team at Wizards of the Coast.
The final big event of 2003 happened at the very end. As Vic and I were about to leave the office to join the rest of the staff for a holiday screening of Return of the King, I received a phone call from Lucasfilm. They were invoking a clause in our contract that would allow them to end our license should Johnny Wilson ever leave Paizo. They had put this clause in at the beginning of our relationship because of my lack of experience with magazines—they wanted to be protected if Johnny, the guy who knew the business, left. I had also spent a lot of the year convincing Lucasfilm of the potential I thought the Fan Club held, and it turns out I'd done that perhaps too well—they now wanted to manage it themselves. They gave us a few months to tie things up before Star Wars Insider went away, which takes us into 2004, so I'll talk more about the implications to Paizo in the next anniversary blog. (Needless to say, after receiving that news, Vic and I weren't much in the mood for watching Return of the King, so we went home and only shared the news with the company the next work day.)
As 2003 ended, there were a lot of big questions for Paizo. Could I run the company without the years of magazine experience that Johnny had brought to the table? Could Paizo survive the loss of its biggest magazine, Star Wars Insider? Could we continue to make the hard decisions we needed to become more profitable?
Employees who started in 2003 (in order of hiring date and with the title we originally hired them for):
Sean Glenn, Art Director
Rob Head, Webmaster
James Jacobs, Associate Editor
Rob Stewart, Advertising Director
Greg Hanson, Customer Service Representative
Jeff Alvarez, Customer Service Representative
Wade McNutt, Customer Service Representative
Jeremy Walker, Customer Service Representative
Kelly O'Brien, Prepress Supervisor
Patrick Velotta, Graphic Designer
Jenny Scott, Editor
Amanda Titus, Customer Service Representative
Dave Neri, Warehouse Manager
Mike McArtor, Assistant Editor
Keith Strohm, Vice President
Wes Schneider, Assistant Editor
Employees who left in 2003 (in order of their end date):
Dawnelle Miesner
John Dunn
Scott Ricker (now Okumura)
Stacie Fiorito (now Magelssen)
Jesse Decker
Greg Hanson
Chris Thomasson (now Youngs)
Johnny Wilson
Wailam Wilson
A Star Wars Fan's Dream Comes True
One of the benefits of being the president of the Official Star Wars Fan Club and publishing Star Wars Insider was being invited to Australia to see the filming of the final Star Wars movie. Vic Wertz, Dave Gross, Mary Franklin, and I got to spend three glorious days on the set of Episode III: Revenge of the Sith watching the filming, including much of the final lightsaber duel between Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi. We also interviewed many of Lucasfilm's department heads, including props, stunts, wardrobe, makeup, special effects, set design, production, and editing. This culminated in a lunch with the maker himself, George Lucas. Here I was, watching the last days of filming of the last Star Wars movie—an event that I will cherish for the rest of my life!
Maximum Play
One little-known 2003 project was, like Undefeated, an attempt to leverage our expertise—and extra bandwidth—in prepress and printing. From the beginning, Paizo did our own prepress work, something many companies outsourced at the time due to its specific expertise and relatively high equipment costs. But Wizards of the Coast had been doing all of its prepress in-house, so we inherited the necessary skills and equipment. Our Production Manager, John Dunn, felt that we could make some money selling our prepress services to other companies, and he spent much of 2003 pitching our services to no avail before he left to do print management for Microsoft.
We did have one bite, though: one of Johnny's friends was starting a company called Play Interactive in order to publish a videogame magazine to be sold through GameStop stores, so Johnny offered up our services as prepress and print coordinators. Paizo would receive the finished magazine files and Play Interactive would pay us to handle things from there. Vic and I had insisted that Play Interactive put money into an escrow account to cover their costs before we began work, but Johnny decided to proceed without waiting for payment. Of course, by the time Maximum Play #1 hit our warehouse, things had already started to break down. Play Interactive's deal with GameStop had gone south, and they couldn't pay us. Play Interactive quickly disbanded, leaving us holding the bill, and with no place to sell the already printed magazine to recover our costs. We eventually won a lawsuit against Play Interactive, but, as they say, you can't get blood from a stone, so we never recouped a dime, and the cost of the lawsuit just increased the amount of money we lost on this little venture. You can still buy a copy of the first—and only—issue of Maximum Playhere on paizo.com: it's a lasting memory of a deal gone bad.
Lisa Stevens CEO
"That's Not A Desk": The Wes Schneider Story
Today, I would think, "That's not a desk. Desks are about 2-1/2 feet tall. This is over 3 feet tall and attached to the wall—making it a mailing counter." At the time, though, still less than 96 hours off the plane from my former home in Maryland, all I could think was: "I'm here. I have a desk. I work on Dragon." Then I smirked, because my face was cracking trying to hold back another bout of maniacally delighted laughter.
Less than a week earlier, when Dragon magazine Editor-in-Chief Matt Sernett asked if I could start Monday, I told him of course! It's only a 3,000-mile move to a place I've never been—it's an adventure! I'd known since 10th grade that I wanted to be the editor-in-chief of Dragon magazine, so it's not like I was going to say no.
The Paizo offices were not glamorous in 2003, but it'd be years before I realized that. All I knew was that this was how the world of professional gaming and magazine publishing looked: four magazines' worth of staff in one room broken up by cube walls, stacks of Wizards of the Coast-branded boxes stacked in corners and squirreled away under desks, leaking black beanbag chairs, enough RPG manuals to fill three games stores, a galaxy worth of Star Wars tchotchkes, and desks crammed with incoming and outgoing manuscripts, sketches, letters, interviews, previews, and articles all created by the best-of-the-best in the gaming world, each aimed at its own sickeningly imminent deadline. It would take days to take it all in, but there wasn't any time for that—Dragon #314 had to get out the door. (Pro Tip: The first thing you do at your new magazine job should NOT be to criticize the cover of the issue hours away from shipping—even if that's not how Strahd looks, and even if you're still right a decade later.)
The next few months were professionally about learning the ropes the Paizo way, coming to live with deadlines, sitting and editing on top of my misproportioned desk, getting the inside story on the gaming industry, and undergoing the quintessential new guy rite of passage: shoveling through the mountain of unsolicited article proposals in the slush pile (sorry P. L., the crawling head has some dues to pay before it gets an ecology). My education in the history of Dungeons & Dragons beyond my second edition roots also started about this time. With freshly minted Dungeon Editor-in-Chief Erik Mona laying the foundations for elaborate schemes like Maure Castle (and eventually the Age of Worms Adventure Path), the Dragon and Dungeon editorial pit was awash in inspiration from gaming's oldest and fondest-remembered adventures. Only a few years later, many would start considering revitalized stories and characters from these early adventures among Paizo's and the magazines' signature talents—a knack we still indulge as often as possible today.
Unprofessionally, those first days were for figuring out what I'd gotten myself into. Mike McArtor and I had been hired as Dragon's new assistant editors at the same time, and as we both sported similar hairstyles and facial hair at the time, many staff members either couldn't initially tell us apart or didn't realized there were two of us—a matter that was urgently addressed and led to the destruction of all evidence of my goatee-wearing days. Happenstance and insane odds also had it that I'd moved all the way across the country and into the apartment directly next door to James Jacobs, which began a long (and still ongoing) tradition of movie marathons, commute-based collaborations, and thoroughly blurred professional/personal boundaries. Dave Gross, editor of Star Wars Insider at the time and man of a dozen congenial but often mysterious agendas, also made it a point to introduce the company's freshest fish to Seattle's vibrant art and film culture—ensuring that I'll live in this city for as long as it runs a film festival. In the office's cramped quarters, any moment without a headset blaring meant listening to coworkers, typically Sean Glenn, Kyle Hunter, and Erik Mona's mile-a-minute, in-joke riddled banter on the bleeding edge of nerdery (key pieces of which I started transcribing into a still-living document that gets printed out for every other Paizo Christmas party, and that—for reasons of legality and good taste—will never be publicly shared).
It's been a while since I was the newest and youngest guy at Paizo, and since I've done every editorial job there is at a company where "editor" means "guy who does everything." We've come a long way from being a bunch of distinct operations with a communal living space. There have been plenty of laughs and raised cups, but also a fair share of yelling and even a few tears—that's what you get when you have a group of the world's most passionate gamers devoted to putting out projects they're excited to use in their games. But after nearly a decade and almost a third of my life, one thing about Paizo has remained the same since my first day: it's definitely still an adventure.
F. Wesley Schneider Managing Editor
James Jacobs: Fifth Time's the Charm
It took me five tries to get hired to work on RPG stuff.
Attempt 1: I was told that I interviewed well, but that I hadn't done enough design work for D&D—as such, the magazine department at Wizards of the Coast (where I was working at the time in the Sales department processing mountains of Pokémon orders) didn't have a good idea of my skills and strengths as a designer/developer/editor (AKA "as a writer"). Owen K. C. Stephens ended up getting the job I was interviewing for.
Attempt 2: A few years later, with several more adventures and articles and even a few hardcover book credits under my belt, I interviewed again, this time for an assistant editor position on Dragon. They ended up hiring one of my closest friends, Eric Haddock, instead, because he had more experience editing.
Attempt 3: Not long after, I interviewed again... but they hired Matt Sernett instead because he came into the interview with actual "had worked on a magazine before" experience.
Attempt 4: By this point, the magazine business had been spun off and Paizo Publishing was up and running. A new design position opened in Wizards of the Coast's R&D department, and I interviewed for that position and felt VERY good about my chances. By that point I'd helped write quite a few D&D hardcovers and who knows how many adventures and articles for the magazines (including a few that had become relatively notorious—thanks, Book of Vile Darkness!) A few days later, on the day I knew that R&D would be making their decision, I was walking down the hall at lunch to go get a soda from the machine. I happened to look out the window and saw Chris Perkins shaking Jesse Decker's hand. Both were smiling.
Attempt 5: My phone rang at work a week or so later (it was still a few weeks before Jesse Decker would be leaving Paizo to come work at WotC)—it was Johnny Wilson. His words, more or less: "They took one of my guys, so I'm gonna take one of theirs—do you want to come work at Paizo as an Associate Editor on Dungeon?" Since that had more or less been my dream job since the mid '80s when I'd had my first published work appear in Dungeon #12... I said yes.
I started work in the middle of the year, and from the very beginning I knew that I'd indeed found the proverbial dream job. Here are a few memorable highlights from my first half-year working at Paizo that convinced me I'd finally landed the job I wanted to stay at as long as they'd let me keep hanging around...
Playing in a D&D game where the CEO of the company was playing as well. Lisa played an ogre-mage, if I remember correctly. May have been a gold Dragon, though. Being the boss lets you play the best monsters, apparently.
Sitting across from Sean Glenn's desk, I got to see all the incredible art as it came in, and also got to watch how he built each issue of Dungeon into a work of art from nothing more than an art order and a big bucket of words.
One of my first tasks that first week: Erik dropped a document on my desk and said, "Here's stats for Rary. He's 23rd level. Make sure he's a badass." No pressure!
Kyle Hunter getting worked up enough to grab the plastic rim off the top of a cubicle and wield it like a katana. I still don't remember what I said to get him that freaked out. I should have written it down.
Watching a snake fight a hawk in the Paizo parking lot.
Finding out about Erik's fear of bears.
Watching Wes adjust to the rinky-dink desk they had to build for him in the hall because we'd run out of desks. Ha.
Reading adventures by new authors like Richard Pett, Greg A. Vaughan, and Nicolas Logue, and getting to decide that they'd be put into print. And getting a picture of Warduke on the cover of the magazine.
The day Erik accidentally clicked on a particularly "festive" Christmas-themed link that, while he managed to close the browser before the picture loaded completely, still scarred many of us for years to come.
Finding out that one of Wes's superpowers was an uncanny ability to bowl REALLY WELL.
All in all... good times! And I still had the one and only performance of Operation Banjo Thug, a (false, alas) pterodactyl sighting, the chance to work with Rob Kuntz on Maure Castle, the excitement of ordering my first magazine cover (Dungeon #119), seeing an adventure I wrote get turned into a stage production, and more to look forward to in the years to come!
James Jacobs Creative Director
Sean Glenn gets settled into his new surroundings!
Vic Wertz, Lisa Stevens, Mary Franklin and Dave Gross along with Star Wars magazine editors from around the world on the set of Episode III: Revenge of the Sith!
Johnny Wilson and Vic Wertz challenge all comers at the Gladiator Arena at Gen Con and Origins.
Two Boba Fetts! Jeremy Bulloch and Daniel Logan show off their silver action figure incarnation.
The Paizo booth in 2003. In picture: Mary Franklin, Vic Wertz, Lisa Stevens and Mike Mikaelian.
"Hurt a little?" Krunzle began. "Then perhaps we could—" He was unable to continue because his senses were now reporting that his insides and outsides had apparently changed places, and that his entire carcass had subsequently been consumed by a raging firestorm wrapped in a freezing blizzard, then crushed to the size of an ant—and not a very big ant, at that.
He was next conscious of screaming hoarsely, and then vision returned, along with the rest of his sensorium, which advised him that all his systems were now running normally—except for his fear-measuring capacity, which was strained to its limit. He closed his mouth and took in a long, shaky breath through his nostrils. "Please," he said, "don't do that again."
"Typical," said the woman. "I free you from a serious enchantment—a service, I want to point out, that I perform at no charge. And do I see gratitude? Do I hear so much as a murmur of thanks?"
"Thank you," Krunzle murmured.
"Too late now," she said, picking up the knucklebones and rolling them expertly between her palms. "Now let's see what you can do for me in return."
"I thought you said there was no charge."
"Typical," she said again, shaking her blonde locks. She threw the bones onto the tabletop, regarded them for a long moment, then said, "Apparently, the answer is: nothing. You're not part of my future at all."
Krunzle heaved a sigh of relief, until the thought occurred that the bones might be saying he was not part of anybody's future. The demon worshipers next door could likely use a spare body. And he knew that some of the uses to which the bodies were put rendered them useless for any future employment.
She had picked up the amulet again. "So he sends in a thief to steal this piece of gimcrack, which the idiot Didmus gave to the equal idiotic Galathea as some sort of mawkish love-token."
Krunzle dared to interrupt. "Who," he said, "are Didmus and Galathea?"
Again, that look that his teachers used to give him, then she shook her head as one does who accepts that some shortcomings must be borne with. She said, "Galathea is the girl from whom you took the apprentice's eye. She is my daughter. And Baalariot's, for that matter. Didmus is a half-grown half-wit of a sorcerer's apprentice. They think they are in love."
"You and Baalariot are married?" he said.
Again, the look of disbelief. "Men and women do not have to be married to produce children," she said. "Baalariot wants to wed her to one of Hedvand's courtiers. I have a better plan: she will train to become a priestess of Nocticula, cementing my relationship with the cult."
"And Didmus," the thief said, his mind beginning to form the picture into whose frame he had been pressed, "what does he want?"
She assumed an exasperated look. "What does any young man want?"
"He doesn't happen," Krunzle said, "to play the zither?"
"I wouldn't put it past him."
For all its academic shortfalls, Krunzle's intellect was adept at plans and schemes, his own and others'. The pieces now fell into place. He debated for a moment as to whether he should voice his conclusions—but only for a moment. If he was right, events would shortly reveal the facts for themselves, and he would gain nothing by too late a revelation.
"I believe," he said, "that I am here as a diversion."
Hortenza's brows consulted each other, then her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment a heavy concussion sounded from downstairs. The building shook, and shards of plaster sifted down from the hole in the corner of the ceiling.
The priestess recovered quickly. "The bastard!" she said, reaching for the ebony rod and striding to the door. She slammed it behind her and he heard the click of the lock. He gave her a moment to clear the corridor outside then went to kneel at the keyhole, reaching for his picks.
But, even in her hurry, Hortenza had been thinking a step ahead of him. The pick would not engage the tumblers. He went to the table, where she had left the apprentice's eye, and brought it to bear on the door. The lock made the stone glow bright red.
Krunzle said a short and pungent word, then turned to the hole in the ceiling. He pushed a small table underneath, then leapt atop it. When he stood upright, his head and shoulder poked through the opening, so that his eyes rose just above the level of the packed-earth roof.
The open space was in darkness and silence, except for the sound of a zither being inexpertly tuned. Then the thief heard a noise like sand rushing through a giant hourglass, as the great blind snake slithered across the roof toward him. He ducked down and, after a moment, the sound ceased.
The lock clicked. The door opened. In the moment between the two events, Krunzle put the table back where he had found it and himself where Hortenza had left him. The witch stepped through the doorway, panting from the stairs and presumably from the effort of dragging an unwilling young woman all the way up from the sub-basement.
"A good thief knows when to make himself scarce, and Krunzle is better than most."
She flung Galathea into the room. "You stay here, or so help me..." She left the threat implied as she turned to the thief and said, with a meaningful glance at the hole in the ceiling, "Keep her here, and I will make it worth your while. Let her go, and...” She pointed a tapered fingernail at him and left the rest to Krunzle's imagination.
Then she was gone, the door slammed. The girl tried the opener, found it locked, and stamped her foot, saying under her breath a word that was not supposed to be available to gently reared maidens. She looked at Krunzle, and the thief recognized the parents in the child.
"You're thinking," he told her, just to get the process rolling, "what it will cost you to secure my assistance."
She folded her arms. "Well?"
"What have you got?"
She showed her fingers, unringed, her wrists unbraceleted, her neck unlaced. "I had only one thing, an amulet with a green stone."
He patted a bulge in his upper garment. "I already have that."
She stared at him for a moment, then sighed and slipped one arm out of her shift, followed by the other. A loud detonation from outside in the street caused her to pause, then she continued, slipping the garment down to her waist.
"This is scarcely the time," Krunzle said.
She had been about to wriggle the shift down over her hips. "Then what?"
"How well do you know the snake?"
"Hothet? He used to guard me in the cradle."
"Will he obey you?"
She casually signaled an affirmative, as if serpent-commanding was a universal skill.
"Then get dressed and get up on the table."
She looked up at the hole. "The roof is too low, the walls to either side sheer."
"Leave that," he said, "to me."
He boosted her through the gap, then fluidly followed. He crouched next to the hole, ready to duck back down, but then he saw the great reptile coiled at her feet, its spade-sized head rubbing against one thigh.
From the side of building that faced the street came another crump! accompanied by a brief yellow glare. Almost immediately, there followed a metallic rattling sound, like iron hail striking cobblestones. The thief crept to the parapet and looked over. Below in the street, Baalariot stood, legs spread, a nimbus of red light about his head like a halo, one hand holding a carved staff whose upper tip ended in an amorphous cloud of stygian darkness which kept spitting out little zig-zags of white lightning. He raised the implement and pointed it at where the front door would be—with Hortenza presumably in it.
From the blackness at the end of the staff rushed a torrent of colorless force, flecked with sparks of gold and black. The angle of his view prevented Krunzle from seeing where it struck, but he knew the effect must be less than overwhelming when he heard a hiss of rage from directly below him, followed by a rumbling, trundling sound, as of iron-shod wheels on stone. Now a shimmering wall, blue and almost transparent, moved outward from the shrine toward the wizard, rolling back his rush of energy until Baalariot gestured with his staff and the outflow ceased.
The wall moved on, however, even picking up speed, and its outer edges began to curve inward so that soon it would form a tube around the wizard. He made a downward chopping gesture with one hand, while speaking a stream of syllables, and the center of the approaching barrier began to melt and dissolve. A moment later it winked out of existence.
Krunzle heard another hissed curse from below him, and a snarling sound from her opponent. He thought it best to withdraw before either parent became aware of him. Something was now snarling and bellowing in the street below, accompanied by the stamp of heavy, hoofed feet on the cobbles. The animal roars were soon met by a chittering sound, as if ten thousand maddened insects were clashing their mandibles. The tramp of iron-shod hooves was overlaid by a skittering, whispering noise. Krunzle imagined a horde of chitinous scorpions, their pincers clicking, flooding across the street to swarm up some rough beast.
Then he decided there was no profit in imagining such unpleasantness. He crept back across the roof to Galathea, finding the snake asleep in a coil and the girl indulging in some impatient toe-tapping. He felt a brief twinge of compassion for poor, love-sick Didmus, who must eventually learn that the girl's parent's temperaments had bred true in their offspring.
But that was not his concern. "This way," he said, and led her to where his grapnel and knotted rope still hung from the neighboring roof. As she took hold of the cord, the love song from above began again. She went up quickly, and the thief after her. They followed their ears to a corner of the tenement roof sheltered by movable walls of plaited bamboo.
A tender moment ensued, then Krunzle intervened to say, "It would be wise to leave here before the battle below ends and the winner—assuming there is one—comes looking for the prize."
Didmus, a gawky youth with ears almost large enough to serve as wings, said, "I have a carriage. We'll go to my uncle's manse. A priest of Erastil lives next door. We'll be married before midnight."
Galathea looked down at her shift, its hem soiled from the unswept roof. "Married?" she said. "In this?"
Krunzle felt another brief spasm of sympathy for the apprentice wizard, but said, "In what quarter of the city is your uncle's manse?"
The youth's cracked voice said, "By the night market, near the Druma Road Gate."
"Then let us go."
And so, with eldritch lights and harsh sounds fading behind them, they fled the lower city. Didmus, a generous sort for a budding wizard, pressed into Krunzle's hand a small purse of gratitude when they dropped him off at the market. The thief used the funds to buy a change of clothing and a broad-brimmed hat that would obscure and shadow his face.
He pinned the apprentice's eye to his new headgear, then settled himself beside an untenanted booth at the edge of the market. When the gate opened in the morning, he would be first out of it and on the road to Druma and its capital, Kerse, where the streets were literally paved with gold and the walls of the houses inset with gems.
Krunzle had long had a hankering to see Druma. He sat with arms resting on his knees, and head resting on arms, and dreamed of easy locks and unlatched windows.
Follow the rest of Krunzle's adventures in the new Pathfinder Tales novel Song of the Serpent!
Coming Next Week: Piracy and parenthood in the Ironbound Archipelago in Chapter One of Wendy Wagner's "Mother Bears."
Hugh Matthews is a pseudonym of critically acclaimed science-fantasy author Matthew Hughes, who is responsible for more than a dozen novels and is often called the "heir apparent" to the legacy of Jack Vance, particularly for his Archonate series. His novel Template was republished by Planet Stories, and his first Pathfinder Tales novel, Song of the Serpent, also features intrepid thief and confidence man Krunzle the Quick.
The time has come to determine this year's RPG Superstar™! For Round 5, each of our Top 4 competitors have submitted a 3,000 word Pathfinder Module adventure proposal. They've rolled with the puches and absorbed feedback from the judges and voters, and now it's time to see who will come out on top!
Congratulations again to our Top 4! Get to voting and determine who will become RPG Superstar™ 2012! Voting ends on April 2 at 2PM Pacific Time.
The ultimate winner of RPG Superstar™, announced April 3, 2012, will write a Pathfinder Module to be published in early 2013. The 2011 RPG Superstar champion module, Sam Zeitlin’s The Midnight Mirror, releases in April 2012.
Do you like your combats bloody? When you score a critical hit or your enemy fumbles, do you want viscera to spray across the screen in you mind? Do you like the sound of your vanquished foe’s body slam against the walls of that cliff you threw him down? Then you probably already have the GameMastery Critical Hit Deck and Critical Fumble Deck. Paizo now offers them in digital form, as the iCrit and iFumble apps and they are available for both iPhone and Android.
The iPhone versions of these apps have been up for a while. Many of you have already downloaded them and we’re glad you like it. We hope the Android users will be just as pleased with the new versions.
This is the beginning. We are moving forward with more digital tools. We want to make tools that are useful and fun. We want to make tools that you will use and love because they aid the game you love to play.
We have some ideas. We have some secret plans. But you folks have an opinion on everything, and as a group, you folks buy nearly everything. What do you want to see in future phone and tablet tools for Pathfinder?
Mid-year Report of the Pathfinder Society Campaign
Monday, March 26, 2012
Illustration by Eva Widermann
Today is my six-month anniversary at Paizo. The time has flown since September 26, 2011. Usually, State of the Union/State/County/City addresses are given on an annual basis. In the future, I will most likely present this report at the yearly Pathfinder Society Members’ Meeting at Gen Con. However, this being my first year and with all the changes that have taken place, and in light of the goals set for the future, I thought it was important to give a report of how my first six months on the job have played out.
First and most importantly, I want to thank all of the Venture-Captains and Lieutenants, regional and convention coordinators, GMs, and people I use as a sounding board (you know who you are). Without all of you, I would not be able to achieve everything listed below and make Pathfinder Society as great as it is. I also want to thank all of our players and fans. Without you, I wouldn’t have an awesome job to come to each morning. So, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of your efforts and support.
The Pathfinder Society Organized Play campaign has already seen numerous positive improvements and changes. Here is a short list of things we’ve accomplished together in just six months:
Established the Venture-Lieutenant program and the recruited more than 75 new Venture-Captains and Venture-Lieutenants to help us grow Pathfinder Society by presenting a Paizo 'face' in many local areas.
We've addressed our leadership, our organization, our ground game, and our rules. And we couldn't have done any of it without all of you.
All that is great, but it's not enough. We're not done yet (which means that we all have more work to do). I'm excited about the future of the Society. In particular, the following items on my now-less-than-secret list excite me:
The Grand Convocation interactive will return at PaizoCon 2012.
A second, competitive round has been added to the Pathfinder Society Special at Gen Con 2012.
My goal is to meet as many Pathfinder Society players, GMs, and coordinators as I can face-to-face. I encourage you to introduce yourself to me at those conventions.
The plotline for Season 4 has been laid-out, and Season 5 has already been put into a rough draft.
We are looking at ways to make faction missions have a meaningful impact on the campaign and make more sense as presented in scenarios.
Improve our Retailer Support program, including upgrades to the website interface to make it more user-friendly for both retailers and customers.
Improve the GM Rewards program (we already made some adjustments to 5-star GMs as noted above).
I would like to see the creation of the three campaign documents that were discussed on the April 4, 2011 blog.
Expanding the Venture-Captain program to additional areas in North America, as well as increasing the number of Venture-Captains internationally.
Working with Paizo’s web team to implement a more user-friendly web interface for event coordinators.
The last six months have been a great learning experience for me. I continue to transition from a regional coordinator mindset to one of a global campaign administrator. There have been some bumps in the road, but nothing that has proven insurmountable. I already knew that the Pathfinder Society community is smart, diverse, and very passionate. It is amazing how much energy and enthusiasm you all have for the game and it is very inspiring. Likewise, the people here at Paizo are some of the most creative and different-thinking people I've ever met. It's as amazing as you'd think it would be.
I will finish by letting everyone know that I will continue to do the best job I can to grow and improve the Pathfinder Society campaign. Sometimes I will make mistakes. But, when I do make a mistake, I will own up to it. As always, I am available for all of you to reach out to me with concerns, criticisms, thoughts, suggestions, venting, and ideas via email, private message, Skype, phone call, an in-person visit, carrier pigeon, written letter, message spell, pony express, contact other plane spell, or sending spell.
Mike Brock Pathfinder Society Campaign Coordinator
Ardent followers of our Friday Pathfinder Battles preview blog surely noticed its absence last week, when necessity pulled me away to the wild frontier of Las Vegas for the GAMA Trade Show, an important game industry event that draws publishers, distributors, and retailers from around the country. While at GTS, I had a chance to sit down and chat with my counterpart over at WizKids, and our discussion covered where the Pathfinder Battles line has been, and where it's headed in the future.
We spoke for the first time about the set after the next set (which we haven't even announced yet, but which is already in sculpting!). Sales have been strong for the line, and retailer comments at the show were very positive.
WizKids leaked a few details about Pathfinder Battles at a GTS presentation, including that the Rise of the Runelords set will have two booster configurations. The Standard Booster contains four figures, one Large and three either Medium or Small. The set also contains four Huge figures, sold in random single-figure Huge Boosters. Unlike with Heroes & Monsters, these two booster configurations will come in two different case sizes, so that retailers (and customers) will be able to re-order the size of booster that they need.
Although we are very, very close to being able to reveal specific details about price and availability, we still lack a couple of pieces of critical information that are preventing us from posting the product page so you can preorder these exciting figures right this very second. I expect that to change very soon, so keep your eyes on this space!
At the GAMA Trade Show, WizKids also revealed the worst-kept secret of the line, finally officially identifying the set's premium miniature: the Rune Giant! This gorgeous Gargantuan figure towers over Medium, Large, and even Huge figures, and with his enormous sword he cuts an imposing figure on your game table.
The final miniature will have elaborate tattoos all over his skin, inspired by the original rune giant art by Wayne Reynolds. That's the Vampire from Heroes & Monsters down there by the Rune Giant's shin. I thought you guys would appreciate a sense of just how big this figure is relative to, say, a player character miniature.
Like the Huge Black Dragon of Heroes & Monsters, this figure is produced in extremely limited quantities, and will be available to purchase by customers who subscribe or preorder cases of Rise of the Runelords Standard Boosters (as well as through select retailers). Details on pricing and exactly how you can be sure not to miss this amazing figure will come shortly.
WizKids also revealed another much-anticipated figure, the rare Runelord Karzoug the Claimer, arch-villain of the entire Rise of the Runelords campaign!
This pose was drawn from a chapter-opener image from Ultimate Magic, depicting Karzoug in battle against a hated foe. Both the magical spell effect launching from Karzoug's left hand and the flames of his pole-arm are rendered in tinted clear plastic, adding to the energy effect. With gorgeous fine detailed painting along the hem and embroidery of his robes and lavishly detailed equipment and clothing features, this is a miniature your players will long remember and really relish defeating.
Lastly this week, I wanted to show off a figure that WizKids didn't reveal at the GAMA Trade Show. I wanted to pick a monster, and I wanted to pick something distinctly Pathfinder, something emblematic of the Pathfinder brand that maybe wouldn't have ever appeared if not for the original Rise of the Runelords campaign.
I decided on this guy, the brutal Sinspawn Axeman.
This miniature is an armored, souped-up version of the Sinspawn miniature we previewed weeks ago. As the campaign gets tougher, the player characters actually fight more of these axe-wielders than they do the regular type from the Pathfinder RPG Bestiary, which is one reason we've put both of them in the common rarity.
That's it for this week! We've still got plenty more awesome figures to preview in the weeks and months to come, as well as a lot more specifics on price, exact configuration, and other important details.
The Top 4 competitors in RPG Superstar 2012 are hard at work on their adventure proposals, which are due tomorrow at 2 p.m. Pacific Time! This weekend the four judges and guest judge James Jacobs review these entries, and on Tuesday, March 27, they go live for public reading and voting!
Don’t worry, competitors, you still have more than 24 hours to go before the deadline! James, Mike, Steve, Tom... good luck!
His first awareness was of the ache in his ribs, that swelled every time he took a breath. He cursed the pain, then thought, No, wait, I'm still breathing. That has to go on the positive side of the ledger. He took a deeper breath and groaned, his emotions mixed.
"Get up," said a voice from somewhere above him: female, but without the girlish tone of the amulet-wearer. This was a mature contralto, with strong overtones of I am used to being obeyed. Krunzle opened his eyes and discovered he was lying on a thick carpet. He recognized the hole in the ceiling.
A toe nudged his sore ribs—bruised, not broken, he deduced—and the voice said, "Up."
From this vantage, she seemed extraordinarily tall, an impression that did not diminish when he struggled painfully to his feet and found that she still overtopped him so that he had to crane his neck to meet her eyes. In doing so he discovered that his neck was joining his ribs in registering a complaint of maltreatment. "Ow," he said, rubbing it.
She looked to be of middle years, except for a face as smooth and ageless as magic could make it. She wore a complex headpiece of entwined snakes fashioned from some pale metal, inset with eyes of polished opal. Hair the same shade as that of the girl in the cell cascaded down onto a robe of pale silk, marked in red and black arcane symbols.
"I am Hortenza, and this is my house," she said. "Name yourself."
He did so, without resorting to sleights or subterfuges. She did not look the type to enjoy a frivolous puzzle.
She studied the thief. Krunzle had seen much the same expression on the faces of farmwives deciding which chicken would have its neck wrung for the stewpot. As if interested in the decor, he looked about him. The room was still windowless; there was one exit, besides the one he had made.
"Meddling in the affairs of spellcasters is rarely advisable."
As if she could read his thoughts—and perhaps she could—she said, "The door is locked and the snake is on the roof. He likes to take sleeping birds. But he'd rather have you."
Krunzle thought of several things he could say, but none of them seemed likely to profit him. He remained silent while she studied him some more. Meanwhile, the geas was urging him to escape, and to do so loudly. He focused mentally on the impossibility of doing so, and the urge quieted. Thanks to Cardimion for making it discriminating, he thought.
By now, his new captor seemed to have seen all there was to see. She said, "Baalariot sent you."
Again, the thief saw nothing to be gained by speaking. After a moment, she said, "Answer."
"I did not hear a question."
Her hard face hardened further. She raised a finger whose nail tapered to a black lacquered point and pointed it at him. The air around him crackled and he smelled a whiff of sulfur, then he became aware that every bone in his body had suddenly become hot enough to scald the flesh that touched it. The pain lasted only moments, but the memory of it lingered after she lowered the digit.
"Oh, yes," he said, "that question. Indeed, Baalariot sent me."
"To steal Galathea."
His eyebrows knitted themselves in confusion. "He called it something else."
That brought him a quizzical look. She studied him again, then said, "What, exactly, did he call her?"
Krunzle blinked. Her? But he was in no position to offer a correction. "He called it an apprentice's eye."
As a young student, the thief had never risen to the top of any class in literature, history, or philosophy. His was a practical intelligence, best expressed through his hands, whose remarkable deftness at eye-bamboozling speed had won him his nickname. But his inability to recite even the best-known dates and precedents used to win him a certain look from the preceptors at the day school, a look that said, Can this oaf really be that much of a thimble-wit?
He was seeing that look again, on the face of the witch. Now she looked down at the carpet, where the amulet with the color-changing cabochon lay, the polished, uncut stone now green again. The snake's coiled embrace must have pressed it to him. Indeed, he suspected the hard stone was responsible for one of the bruises on his ribs. The moment he noticed it, he involuntarily stooped and picked it up.
"That?" she said. "You want me to believe he sent you for that?"
The darkening expression on her face told Krunzle that he needed her to believe it, because it was the only explanation for his conduct that he was able to offer.
She was studying him even more closely now. "You're not one of his coterie."
"I have never been a joiner," Krunzle said.
"A hireling?"
"Not as such."
She picked up the amulet and held it to him. The green stone turned red. "Ah," she said.
"Why does it do that?" he said.
"It is an apprentice wizard's tool," she said. "It perceives the energies involved in magic, and mostly serves to prevent the inexperienced from touching that which might do them harm. Right now, it tells me that you have been ensorcelled."
She tilted her head in thought then added, "Which might make you dangerous. Don't move."
She went to a cupboard that stood against the wall, opened a door, and selected an object from several that were stored there. She brought it back and he saw that it was a tube carved from black crystal. She put it to her eye and inspected him through it.
"Ah, Baalariot," she said. "Always the obvious. Of course it would be Cardimion's Discriminating Geas." She went back to the cupboard, chose other items from its contents and brought them to a table. Then she moved a brazier to the same part of the room and, with a mere motion of one hand, ignited its charcoal. She inspected the things she had arranged on the table—Krunzle saw scrimshawed ivory, an ebony rod, some old, time-worn knuckle bones, a scrap of pale hide tattooed with blue runes, a diminutive, oddly shaped skull—then she began to perform actions beyond his comprehension.
"If we were out in the street," she said, touching this and elevating that, "I could scarcely make a dent. But I have an arrangement with Our Lady's sanctuary next door, and that gives me access to a power that..." She broke off, concentrating while she tapped the black rod a precise three times on the top of the skull, then covered the bone with the tattooed skin. The air inside the room was suddenly charged with energy. Kunzle felt a crackling in his ears. Then she looked over at him and aimed the rod in his direction, saying, "This will probably hurt a little."
Coming Next Week: The final chapter of Hugh Matthews's "Krunzle the Quick."
Hugh Matthews is a pseudonym of critically acclaimed science-fantasy author Matthew Hughes, who is responsible for more than a dozen novels and is often called the "heir apparent" to the legacy of Jack Vance, particularly for his Archonate series. His novel Template was republished by Planet Stories, and his first Pathfinder Tales novel, Song of the Serpent, also features intrepid thief and confidence man Krunzle the Quick.
This summer we're unleashing Ultimate Equipment, a massive tome full of all sorts of equipment both magical and nonmagical. Last time, Sean asked you about what kind of items you would like to see in the book, and we got a bunch of magic item ideas. This week we're asking again, but this time we're looking for something a little more... well, mundane.
What kind of nonmagical equipment do you think should be in this book? It will feature all the nonmagical equipment found in the Pathfinder RPG Core Rulebook, the Advanced Player's Guide, and Ultimate Combat, as well as a bunch of nonmagical equipment that we produced for the Advanced Race Guide, including weapons and armor. But what other sort of nonmagical things should be in this book? Specifically, we're looking for those nonmagical pieces of equipment that should be in the game, but that we haven't yet published.
You may have already heard that longstanding Paizo freelancer, messageboard crusader, flumph preservationist, and all around great guy Adam Daigle has officially signed on as Paizo’s newest developer. Well, this week he showed up at the office, terrified and disheveled after several straight days of driving all his belongings up from Texas in a truck he’s absolutely not qualified to drive.
In order to show him what swell folks we are, a couple of us headed over to help him move into the Paizo dormitories (AKA a nearby apartment complex). Since fewer than 24 hours is clearly enough time to get his life in order, he’s already set up in the office, learning the ropes by trying not to fall asleep while whimpering quietly in his new cube. Pretty soon he’s going to find out about all the projects he’s already late on, and when he does, I thought it might cheer him up to have a nice welcome thread on the blog.
So please join me in saying: Welcome, Daigle! Now get to work!
Daigle arrives in true Paizonian fashion.
Captain of Industry Wes Schneider proves he’s not above sparing some time for the little people.
Hobo Beard Patrick says, "I could totally live in here..."
Daigle knows that the key to moving is properly labeling the boxes.
“Get back in there, Renie! You don’t come out until Blood of Angels is developed!”
Mark Moreland is ashamed.
Sutter obeys the golden rule of moving: Always make sure that it’s the owner who drops the expensive thing.
Since everybody’s working around the clock on the Rise of the Runelords Anniversary Edition Hardcover, Wes and I decided it was time that we broke the glass and unleashed Uncle Sutter’s Emergency Storytime Blog!
Back in January, we had a reading/launch party for Death’s Heretic at the University of Washington bookstore. It was a ton of fun, and as it happens, Wes used the wonders of modern technology to capture me reading part of the book’s prologue. So if you’re bored at work and want somebody to read fantasy stories to you, bust out your headphones and enjoy! The end of the clip even contains my soon-to-be-patented ghoul voice...
To the top four competitors: congratulations! Though I’m not a guest judge this round, I will be the person developing the winner’s submission, so I thought I’d take the opportunity while you’re putting together your adventure proposals to offer some advice. Chances are good that the same elements I touch on here are the same things Clark, James, Neil, Ryan, and Sean will be looking for and judging you on next weekend, so pay attention!
1. Scope: Every year at least one competitor puts forward an adventure proposal that simply couldn’t fit in a 32-page print product. The judges will ding you for this hard, and even if you win by popular vote despite that, the physical limitations of the medium will necessitate changes from your proposal that may jeopardize your winning vision. A Pathfinder Module typically has around 20,000 words, with 1,800 of those restricted to appendixes. That means you have around 18,000 words to describe all the backstory, characters, and locations in the adventure, as well as all the stats contained therein.
The average encounter is 500 words (including statblocks). If you anticipate using 10,000 words of your final adventure detailing a cult’s lair, know that you’re going to need (and have room for) about 20 encounter areas. Some of these will be fights that have statblocks that push them over the average, and some will be mostly empty rooms with only a paragraph or two of text to even that average out. But if you set half of the adventure in a giant castle that couldn’t reasonably have less than 20 rooms, chances are you’ll have to cut a lot of the contents within, or cut other elements of the adventure to make room. If everything you propose is vital to the story, then cutting things can drastically change the adventure from the proposed concept.
2. Simplicity: Another thing we see every year are what we’ve termed “wahoo” elements in folks’ proposals. I understand why some competitors want to pull out all the stops with complicated and cinematic fights, locations, villains, and adventure premises: you want people to think your adventure will be the coolest to play. But consider that the more we need to explain something—whether it’s a rules subsystem or the complex way an encounter in a weird location plays out—the less words you have to tell your story. You’ll note we often save our rules subsystems for Pathfinder Adventure Path books, where they can be explained as independent articles that don’t eat into the adventures themselves. This is because we don’t have room for such things in most 32-page modules. Tell an engaging story that relies on plot, memorable characters, and interesting locations rather than a few complicated, off-the-wall elements; your job, my job, and the GM at the table’s job will be easier, and if it’s a good story, the players will enjoy it just as much as something wacky, as long as their PCs partake in something meaty.
Along the same lines, consider the number of sources needed to run the adventure and especially to run any single NPC. If your adventure hinges on a creature from the Bestiary 3 who has levels in both alchemist and rogue and uses an archetype from Ultimate Magic, you’ve necessitated the use of four books to design, develop, and ultimately run that character. In most cases, the same story can be told with only one or two books, everyone has an easier time, and the encounter can be just as memorable.
3. Scale: The assignment this year is to propose a 9th-level adventure. That means it assumes a balanced party of four 9th-level PCs and thus needs to be able to account for some of the things a 9th-level party can do. By this point in a character’s career, she has become a mover and shaker on the national or even regional stage. A 9th-level spellcaster can cast such spells as commune, dominate person, polymorph, raise dead, scrying, teleport, and true seeing. It’s not unreasonable to assume they also have a few higher-level spells on scrolls, which are more than affordable in limited quantities. Characters of this level should always be assumed to be able to fly, turn invisible, and take on whatever disguise they want, and encounters that hinge on them not being able to do these things will fall flat. Large parties of creatures with class levels to bring them up to the right CR are likely to stretch credulity, in that a meager thieves’ guild wouldn’t typically have a lot of people in it with more than a few levels; they’d have already taken over the whole town, not to mention that masses of low-CR creatures are literally speed bumps overcome with a single area of effect spell. All of these are the sorts of things to keep in mind when deciding if a general premise or specific encounter is appropriate for characters running through your adventure.
4. Format: Pathfinder adventures (and Pathfinder Modules specifically) follow an established format. When coming up with your idea, consider whether it will work within the format it will be published in. Could the “story so far” fit on a page or two at most in the Adventure Background section? Can the events of the adventure itself be summed up quickly and concisely in the Adventure Summary? Would you need to use more than the two and a half pages of maps most Pathfinder Modules get? Does the story have a clear beginning, middle, and end that could be broken into three distinct parts or acts? Does it contain a new monster and can that monster be run without us needing to print its stats twice (i.e. the base creature in the appendix and a version with class levels in the adventure itself)? Is there a location in the adventure that, while set in Golarion, could be easily ported to a different setting or dropped into a GM’s game independent of running this adventure? All of these are parts of the Pathfinder Module format, so it’s important you build an adventure that adheres to these elements.
And now that I’ve fully channeled Neil Spicer with my lengthy post, I’ll let you get back to the task at hand. I hope the above advice is helpful and doesn’t discourage you from proposing the story you really want to tell. Rather, I hope it encourages you to find creative ways to tell that story in a way that will both capture the voters’ attention and garner the backing of the judges and your potential future employers here at Paizo. Best of luck, gentlemen!
He descended several flights of steps, took a number of turns along torch-lit corridors, and came at last to the threshold of a windowless cell deep below ground. The glowing orb entered and Krunzle did likewise. Once within, the light blinked out, and he had a momentary glimpse of a small, winged man fluttering out through the open doorway and disappearing along the corridor.
Krunzle made to put his head through the opening to see the creature more clearly, but the air that filled the exit now demonstrated the ability to become a clear, springy substance that flung him back into the room. By the light from the corridor, he looked around and found an ill-smelling pallet, a rough stool, and a terra cotta oil lamp with a wick of greasy wool. He was able to just reach this last item around the edge of the door to meet the torch ensconced in the passageway and, with the lamp's feeble light, sat down on the stool and took out the scroll.
It was written in a script that he could read, and he quickly took in what it had to tell him. He was to wait until the pixie returned to lead him out of his cell. Then he must go to a house in the lower town—a map to find the place, an image of its exterior, and a second, multi-leveled map of its interior were provided. He was to find his best way in, locate something called an "apprentice's eye"; the note said that the geas he was under would ensure that he recognized the object when he saw it.
You may use whatever means and procedures you deem appropriate, said the note, but if you offer violence against any persons within the house, the hand you raise will instead strike you where you have already felt a blow.
Once he had achieved the goal of the mission he was to bring the apprentice's eye back to Baalariot. The note said that while exiting the target area he was encouraged to make as much noise and commotion as possible.
"Why would I do that?" he asked the walls of his cell. He received no answer.
Krunzle turned over the single sheet of parchment, but there was nothing on the other side. He reread the note again and, when he realized that the letters were steadily fading away, applied himself to memorizing the map before it disappeared.
A few moments later, he was left with two things: a blank piece of scraped sheepskin and a question. The question was: what was an apprentice's eye?
Then came a third: an overwhelming urge to sleep.
∗∗∗
He awoke to find that his various pains had faded. He was also hungry, and was glad to find that while he slept someone had brought him a platter of bread and cheese, as well as a stoneware jug that proved to contain an almost drinkable wine. He refreshed himself, then sat on the stool and contemplated his predicament. He failed to see any immediate advantage to being the slave of a spied-upon wizard. Nor did he envision that his situation would much improve: as he understood these things, spellslingers tended to rely on conjured assistants, like the pixie, for their domestic needs. They generally kept no slaves—which meant that upon successful completion of his mission, he would become surplus to Baalariot's requirements. The wizard would cast around for some useful purpose that a superfluous thief-slave could serve. Several images came to Krunzle's mind, none of them encouraging.
His early education at a rather prestigious rogue’s academy had taught him the cardinal rule of the thief's life: always have a plan. He quickly devised a scheme that had two parts. Part one: break the enchantment that bound him to Baalariot's will. Part two: depart Elidir at maximum speed.
He was sure he could execute part two with energy and dispatch. Part one, however, remained a problem. His mind failed to gain traction, and soon he lacked the leisure to pursue the matter, because now the winged manlet returned, hovering in the corridor at the center of his globe of light.
Krunzle stood and the light moved away. He was able to exit the cell as if the air in the doorway was nothing but air. He strode after the guide, and noticed that he was not retracing the route that had brought him down from Baalariot's chamber. Instead, he and the winged fairy-man proceeded deeper into the warren of dark rooms and barely lit corridors beneath the wizard's manse, until he came to a narrow space which contained a spiral iron staircase leading up and a rough table on which were spread several items Krunzle recognized.
They had all be taken from his person after he had been delivered to the Gyve, and they constituted the tools of his trade: picks and slips; grapples and cords; a double-bent tube with mirrors inside that bent light and allowed him to peek around corners, under doors, and through windows without being seen; and a handful of other objects.
Krunzle was glad to recover them. Not only were they useful, but as part of his first tasks as a journeyman, he had personally made each one of them. Thieves could not usually afford much sentimentality, but an exception was made for the toolkit. He disposed of them in the various concealed pockets and loops that abounded in his garments, and felt slightly better about the course of events.
He was given little time for satisfaction, however. No sooner had he stowed the last implement, than the pixie flew up the staircase, illuminating the darkness above. Krunzle experienced a strong desire to follow and began to climb. He noted, with faint gratitude, that his groin no longer pained him with every lift of a foot.
No sooner had he risen out of the small room—it turned out to have been the bottom of a shaft—than the globe of light disappeared. In complete blackness, Krunzle felt the flying creature flutter past him as it went back to wherever it perched when not on duty. He was unable to do likewise and continued to ascend until he arrived at a confined space that offered not the slightest glimmer of light. He felt in front of him and found a wooden surface which, when he explored further and discovered a simple latch, turned out to be a door.
But thieves' caution prevented him from opening the portal until his searching fingers discovered what he expected to find: another moving part at eye level that, when he slid it aside, uncovered a peephole. He peered out and saw a darkened Elidiran alley, lit only by a few gleams leaking through the closed shutters of houses that turned blank walls to the narrow passage.
He opened the door and stepped out, then looked up at the evening stars to orient himself. The map appeared on the screen in his mind—no magic there, but the mental discipline learned in the academy and practiced ever since—and he set off for the lower town. His route avoided the city's major thoroughfares and plazas, leading him instead along narrow, twisting alleys and down flights of stone steps that reeked of urine and rotting vegetables. Clearly, he thought, whoever occupied the house to which he was headed did not enjoy the elevated social status of the wizard who was sending him.
The building, when he came to it, was not imposing. Mud brick rather than stone, it stood two stories high, with a flat roof; he knew from the map, though, that its foundations had been dug down three levels, creating sub-basements and even a bottomless pit. Baalariot hadn't said anything, but Krunzle knew enough about magic-wielders to have reasoned out that anyone who could steal from a wizard was likely to be another practitioner of the arcane arts. Wizardry and subterranean chambers seemed to be an infallible combination. Maybe it was a matter of containing unruly powers; or maybe it was just that depth muffled the screams.
His urge to get to the target eased when he came to the mouth of an unlit passageway that met the sloping street on which the house stood. His vantage point was several doors down from the entrance, which featured a sturdy-looking front door between tapered pillars, all carved with some complex design he was too far away to see clearly, flanked by two torches that burned with a green flame. There was something about the arrangement of the portal that argued less for decor than for defense.
He would not be going through that door. Some thieves preferred the direct and obvious approach—get in, grab it, and get out while they're still blinking—but Krunzle was an old-fashioned practitioner of the full art.
He wondered how much leeway Cardimion's Discriminatory Geas would grant him. Experimentation revealed that he could move a certain distance from the target structure, but only enough to circumnavigate it. If he tried to go farther, he experienced shaking limbs, nausea, and a sense of impending dread. When he struggled to overcome the resistance, his fist swung up and struck him sharply in an eye whose surrounding flesh was still tender from the wart-nosed torturer's attentions.
Trial and error over, the thief turned his attention to the house that contained the apprentice's eye. The memorized map had highlighted an area in a lower, though not lowest, level of the building. There was probably a concealed entrance much like the one through which he had made his exit from Baalariot's manse, but it would be a waste of time to look for it. He worked his way around the building and its neighbors again, seeking the opportunity that would make the task easier.
The house had not been constructed as a detached structure; its sides abutted directly against the neighboring buildings; its front was two stories of sheer, unbroken mud brick; its rear was separated from the alley behind by a walled courtyard, also lit by green flames.
The courtyard presented easier access but too much light, the thief decided; besides, the rear wall was as unwindowed as the front.
He examined the buildings to either side: one was of stone, tall and solid as a bank, but a half-hidden glyph near the door identified it in the language of thieves and street people as a temple of the demon Nocticula, which meant that its main use was as a brothel, and not a particularly safe one. The other building was a rickety, three-story tenement, with a wooden staircase running up the rear wall to give the residents false hope that they'd be able to escape in the event of a fire.
A lifetime of professional experience told Krunzle that a mud-brick building's greatest weakness was in its roof. He went up the fire steps with practiced quiet, slipping past the noises of clattering pots, squalling babies, and arguing couples, all overlaid by what sounded like a semi-skilled musician singing a maudlin love song while endeavoring to accompany his cracked voice on an out-of-tune zither. At the top of the stairs, a wooden ladder led to the tenement's flat roof. He scaled it and rolled silently onto a surface of dried mud overlying matted reeds.
The zither player was up there, somewhere. But the shadows were thick enough. Krunzle rose to a crouch and made his way to the lip of the roof where it overlooked the mud-brick house, paused to listen for any sounds that indicated someone might be enjoying the upper air—though he was fairly sure the zither-player's amelodic strains would have driven indoors all but the profoundly deaf. He slowly raised his head above the low parapet until he could see down. The flat space was empty and unlit. Krunzle readied a grapnel and its knotted cord.
Moments later, he was crouched in darkness. He had chosen one of the corners of the roof above the front wall. He knew that rooms at the rear of a building were more likely to contain servants busy at their tasks; front rooms were for the quality, who more frequently left them empty while they sashayed out to enjoy privileges denied their underlings.
He took a small, sharp blade from his toolkit and applied its point to the roof's packed-earth surface. The desiccated soil broke into powdery flakes, and soon he had exposed a layer of dried reeds laid over a network of thin laths of wood. He removed a patch of reeds and beneath it saw the pale gleam of plaster.
New tools came to his hands. He drilled a tiny hole through the plaster, inserted a thin tube fitted with an eyepiece, and a moment later he was seeing a fly's eye-view of a sitting room illuminated by brass lamps whose wicks were turned low. The decor tended toward erotically curved furnishings and draped swathes of faux-soie. The room was otherwise empty.
Busy seconds passed, then the thief was standing on the thick-pile carpet beneath a Krunzle-sized hole in the ceiling.
He padded silently to the closed door, opened it, and saw a corridor ending in a downward-leading staircase lit from below. He crept to the top of the stairs and listened, hearing a faint bustle of kitchen noises and beneath it a female voice half-raised in a monotonous chant.
He went down to the ground floor. The clatter of pots and pans grew louder; it came from somewhere to the rear of the building and down another level. The chanting also increased in volume; it originated from behind a pair of large, ornate doors that must lead into a room that took up all of the ground floor's front. A wizard would have his study there, he thought. Or perhaps a witch.
Krunzle looked about. So far he had seen nothing worth stealing, even if this had been a burglary of his own devising. It was possible the apprentice's eye, whatever it was, was in the front chamber, being chanted over right this minute. If not, it would be somewhere it could be kept safe and perhaps guarded. Again, experience told him that somewhere would probably be below ground, behind layers of defense.
He searched his memory for the image of the map Baalariot had provided. He recalled the symbols for more downward-leading steps and soon found them, through they were behind a double-locked door, strongly made, itself concealed behind a wall hanging that depicted a decidedly female person making an intimate though unlikely connection with a snake at least twice her length. Krunzle swiftly picked the locks, opened the door, and stepped through to a small landing above a set of narrow stone steps that circled down into darkness.
"So this is the apprentice's eye."
A rank smell wafted up from the stairwell. Krunzle didn’t recognize the odor, but some part of him decided that it was the kind of reek that ought to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. Cautiously, ears straining the silent darkness, he began to descend.
He counted fifty steps before his outstretched hand encountered a barrier: another door, also well locked. He again deployed his picks and with small effort soon had the way clear. Beyond was yet more darkness, but here the acrid stench was far stronger.
Krunzle put his head through the doorway and looked to either side. There was a dim glow, enough to show him that the door opened onto a vaulted subterranean passage. The source of the illumination was a thin bar of yellow light that he took to be a leak of lamplight from under a door at one end of the corridor. The other end was unlit and ended in a blank wall with what seemed to be a pool of stygian black at its foot. The pit, Krunzle thought. The stench came from there.
Krunzle went on silent feet to the source of the light. It was definitely another door, but there were no locks, only a thick iron bar that slid into a slot in the stone wall. And, his fingers told him, another peephole.
The thief peeped, and saw a windowless cell not much bigger than the one in which he had spent part of the day, but with a good carpet on the floor, a three-wick oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, a narrow cot (though with pillow and quilt), and a table and chair.
Seated on the chair, back turned to the door, was a small figure in a plain white shift—by the narrowness of the shoulders and the fineness of the golden, collar-length hair, either a young woman or an older child. She (or he) was concentrating on something in her (or his) lap.
Krunzle studied the scene, angling to look through the peephole into the corners of the room. He saw no intimations of danger. After one last visual sweep, he slid the latch and eased open the door.
The figure in the chair turned and looked up at him over one shoulder—a girl on the cusp of becoming a woman, startled in the act of reading poetry from the small book now visible in her grasp. Then surprise turned to excitement tinged with pleasure. "Did he send you," she said, "to rescue me?"
Krunzle ignored the girl's question. You will recognize it when you see it, Baalariot's note had said. And now, as the thief looked at the slim, young figure, and especially at the chain around her neck, and most especially at the amulet that hung from it, he knew.
He stepped into the cell, reaching for the apprentice's eye. It looked like nothing all that special. It was a palm-sized circle of some shiny metal, in the center of which was set a large green cabochon. Around the rim ran a legend carved in a script he could not read.
The young woman stood, her face showing alarm. "Wait!" she said.
"I can't," he said, and took hold of the gaudy thing, giving it a yank that expertly parted the chain. As he did so, two events occurred: the unfaceted green gem in the center turned red; and something cold and strong curled itself around one of his ankles and rapidly rose up his leg. The stench that had been so powerful in the corridor was overwhelming now.
Krunzle held tightly to the amulet—the geas made sure of that—at the same time as he tried to shake his leg free of whatever had seized it. He looked down and saw a broad, triangular head, clad in leprous white scales, its eyes filmed and blind but its forked tongue aflickering. The head connected to a thigh-thick, limbless body that continued to slither toward him along the floor of the corridor, even as it slid upward and addressed its huge strength to the task of squeezing air and life from his torso.
He toppled headlong onto the carpet as the great snake opened its fanged maw and hissed into his face.
"Oh dear," said the girl in white.
Coming Next Week: The perils of working for wizards in Chapter Four of Hugh Matthews's "Krunzle the Quick."
Hugh Matthews is a pseudonym of critically acclaimed science-fantasy author Matthew Hughes, who is responsible for more than a dozen novels and is often called the "heir apparent" to the legacy of Jack Vance, particularly for his Archonate series. His novel Template was republished by Planet Stories, and his first Pathfinder Tales novel, Song of the Serpent, also features intrepid thief and confidence man Krunzle the Quick.
The Top 4 competitors have rolled with the punches and absorbed feedback from the judges and the voters. Now they are making that last push toward the finish line. Now is the time to double down in their efforts and write a proposal for an exciting adventure that'll impress the judges and the voters.
Congratulations to the Top 4—they've survived three rounds of voting and four rounds of sometimes-harsh judge commentary. They've caught the eye of the people at Paizo who make freelance assignments. Each of them has an eye on the prize: getting to write an adventure module and get it published, in print, with his name on the cover. The winner supplies the text, Paizo takes care of the rest. The proof of the winner's quality will be in game stores all over the country.
The deadline for Round 5 entries is March 23rd and submissions for will go live for voting March 27th at 2 PM Pacific time.
The ultimate winner of RPG Superstar™, announced April 3, 2012, will write a Pathfinder Module to be published in early 2013. The 2011 RPG Superstar champion module, Sam Zeitlin’s The Midnight Mirror, releases in April 2012.
Last week we sent the Advanced Race Guide to the printer. In the very near future we’ll be sharing some previews of this book, which is chock-full of new options for characters of all playable races. Until then, we thought we would whet your appetite by showing off this books amazing cover, painted by the lovely and talented Wayne Reynolds.
And now, just for fun, if you were writing a caption for this cover, what would it be? You get extra points for fun, creativity, and humor... as well as good taste.
One of the largest benefits of working as developer on a shared-world campaign like Pathfinder Society Organized Play is having the ability to gather data about how the community uses our products and improve them based on that data. In addition to the extremely helpful Pathfinder Society messageboards, where Campaign Coordinator Mike Brock and I can interact directly with some of our most active and engaged GMs and players, we also have the benefit of looking at literally thousands of tables’ worth of reported session data entered by GMs and event coordinators. This goldmine of information lets us keep a close eye on campaign trends, such as what level scenarios are most often played, which are particularly deadly, and what factions have a higher rate of success in their respective missions. When combined, the synergy of objective data from session reports and subjective feedback from the messageboards, direct email and personal interaction with players and GMs, and a mixture of the two from our growing network of volunteer regional coordinators is nearly unmatched, at least compared to the level of feedback we can get on our other product lines.
About this time last year, prompted by community feedback, I started looking closely at the average size of tables in Pathfinder Society games. Specifically, I was looking at what percentage of reported sessions were played by six or more PCs. The evidence was staggering. While seven-person tables are a relative rarity (as they should be), six-person tables are undoubtedly the norm in Pathfinder Society Organized Play. So I took that data and let it simmer for a while as I continued my routine development tasks.
A few months ago, in a conversation with Mike and a few other members of the editorial team, we were bouncing around the idea of giving GMs a little bit more power to scale adventures to accommodate parties of different sizes. Coming up with a means for GMs to scale encounters up proved incredibly difficult, and there wasn’t an elegant or easily implemented solution. But putting in guidelines for scaling encounters down was much easier.
Thus, beginning in Season 4, all Pathfinder Society scenarios will be designed with six PCs in mind, effectively increasing the CR of all encounters to accommodate larger parties. Each adventure will provide specific changes to apply for parties of four PCs, maintaining consistency in how the scenarios are altered, but giving a bit more latitude to account for table variance. Because five- and seven-person tables are both reasonably equipped to handle a six-person challenge, tables of both sizes should be run without any changes.
So that’s the plan! In true Pathfinder Society fashion, however, we’re eager to hear what the community thinks, so be sure to leave your thoughts in the comments below! And because we like you all so much, here’s a piece of art from the recently released Pathfinder Society Exclusive Scenario: The Cyphermage Dilemma, which your local regional coordinator or 4- or 5-star GM can run for you.
The Paizo office is abuzz with activity as the schedule shifts into overdrive in advance of the big summer releases. We're shipping the Pathfinder RPG Advanced Race Guide today, and final pages of the Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path Anniversary Edition are spooling off the new color printer and into the hands of eager editors. Most of you will enjoy the fruits of our recent activity later this summer, perhaps at Paizo Con or Gen Con, but in order to get all this great stuff to the printer in time for its release, Paizo central is buzzing NOW.
As I write this sitting on my couch at 2:32 AM, I've just finished looking over the color proofs of the first chapter of the Rise of the Runelords, “Burnt Offerings,” by our own James Jacobs. James really set the tone for the Adventure Path (and Pathfinder Adventure Paths in general) with his devious adventure. When we decided to feature the Rise of the Runelords in the upcoming Pathfinder Battles set with our partners at WizKids, one of the things that excited me most was the opportunity to bring some of James's brilliant NPCs to full-color life in plastic.
This week in the Paizo Blog, we'll take a look at four NPCs from “Burnt Offerings.” I'd call them all villains, but that would mean spoilers, and I wouldn't want to do that to you. Besides, at least one of these folks could be convinced to join your party as you venture through the town of Sandpoint and the nearby goblin enclave of Thistletop.
First up we have Tsuto Kaijitsu, a half-elf about town whose obsessions help to embroil the player characters in the events of the Adventure Path. Tsuto's sister is the already-previewed Ameiko Kaijitsu, and players will have occasion to encounter both of their miniatures on the field of battle. Tsuto also makes for a good player character miniature. Like all of the miniatures in this week's preview, Tsuto is rare.
Tsuto's obsession is Nualia, an aasimar who is not one of Sandpoint's most upstanding citizens, to put it lightly. She's got a demon hand, a belly full of scars, and a nice big sword to carve up player characters. It took us a few tries to get Nualia's pose correct, but I'm very happy with how it came out. I love the way she's beckoning her enemies to approach.
Lyrie Akenja is another interesting adventurer and Varisian wanderer pulled into the schemes of Tsuto and Nualia. This figure gave us a chance to incorporate a familiar into a spellcaster miniature. Lyrie's little cat is super cute. This figure works great as a player character, too.
Lastly today we have Orik Vancaskerkin, a fighter who like Lyrie found himself drawn into the affairs of Nualia and her minions. Whether or not he counts as one of those minions is really up to the player characters, meaning this figure could easily double as a friend or a foe. Like Lyrie, he makes an excellent player character miniature. Orik is only one of many Vancaskerkins in the Varisia area. Others appear in other Adventure Paths (and at least one more will soon appear as a Pathfinder Battles miniature!).
That's it for this extremely busy week! I'll be meeting in person with the folks from WizKids at the GAMA Trade Show in Las Vegas next week, and I hope to reveal specific release details (including cost, case information, and more) shortly thereafter.
Incidentally, that means we'll be taking a break from previews next Friday, as I'll be on the road and scheming wonderful schemes.
The official playtest period for the Round 4 encounters is over and voting is open! Voting closes Monday, March 12, so you still have a few days if you want to playtest the encounters. Whether or not you get a chance to playtest, be sure to read the entries and playtest feedback from other gamers, then cast your vote. Next round is the big challenge: create an adventure proposal for a 32-page Pathfinder Module. The winner of RPG Superstar gets paid to write that adventure, and Paizo will publish it in 2013!
Turn and run they did, the leader of the three knife men just missing having his collar caught by the guard captain. With admirable agility, they sped toward the caravanserai gate, dodging around—or under—mules and camels, leaping over bales and chests, weaving between startled drivers and merchants.
"Stop them!" Idrix bellowed, and his guards leaped to obey. But horse-archers were at their best in the saddle and with their weapons strung. On foot, their recurved bows still in their cases, they were no more agile than anybody else in the crowded compound, and certainly less direly motivated than the three now become fugitives.
Still, the guards at the gate were quick enough to swing the portals closed. Their quarry immediately veered toward the nearest wall, which had an elevated walkway behind its crenellations, reached by sets of wooden steps. Two of them chose separate stairs, took them three at a time and vaulted over the top, without pausing to ascertain what they might land on.
The third, he of the low brow and unsettled gaze, had found no steps within easy reach and had instead opted for several heaped bales of velvet, from which he hoped to spring across a narrow distance to the walkway. But the bales were too loosely stacked to offer firm footing, and he missed his leap, tumbling back to the hard-packed earth at the feet of a hurrying archer. The guard used one of those feet to kick the smaller man sprawling, then used it again to hold him fast to the ground until one of his fellows, with practiced skill, arrived to truss the captive's wrists and ankles securely with bowstrings.
They hauled the prisoner before Idrix and the caravan's headmen, who ordered him taken to where the three dysenteric guards lay in the hospice. Fingers were angrily pointed and curses bitterly flung, then the captive was taken to the city gate and handed over to the provost, whose bailiffs hauled him off to the Gyve.
In a dank, foul-smelling chamber deep below ground, the prisoner declared himself an innocent pearlmonger from Merab, a victim of conspirators and mistaken identity. But the steward's torturers knew their craft well, and soon it was established that the man's true name was Krunzle, sometimes known as Krunzle the Quick, a self-proclaimed master thief. He named his confederates, a pair of locals he had hired on in Elidir.
The plan had been to join the caravan as replacements for the guards they had dosed with loose-leaf, a powerful diarrhetic. Then, while ostensibly standing night guard, they would appropriate as much as they could carry in the way of light but valuable goods, and disappear into the landscape until the caravan had moved on.
"Have you anything more to add?" the interrogator said.
Krunzle could think of several things he wanted to say to the hulking, wart-nosed torturer, but none of them would have served him well. He shook his bruised head, spraying a few last drops of blood.
They manacled and fettered him, then took him to a lightless cell and left him there, groaning on damp straw that stank of black mold and worse. The night passed, and then the morning, though the semi-conscious prisoner had lost his inner sense of time's passage, and neither breakfast nor lunch arrived to mark the hinges of the day.
At some point, a bailiff came and collected him. As Krunzle limped, clanking, up the stone stairs, he said, "Am I being taken before the magistrates?"
His escort laughed gently. "We are an impoverished land, grimly overtaxed by our Chelish overlords. We cannot afford to waste the court's time."
"But I wish to plead my case!"
The bailiff spoke as if to a not-very-bright child. "Your 'case' evaporated when you confessed."
"But the confession was extracted by torture!"
"Most are. We are, as I say, efficient."
They had arrived at the top of the stairs. The bailiff unlocked a sturdy door and led the shackled thief, blinking in the noonday glare, out into a courtyard. At one side was a wooden hustings, with a set of stairs leading up. At the top of the steps were gathered some bored, official-looking personages, while at the bottom stood a line of about a dozen wan-faced men and women who all wore the same heavy wrist-and-ankle jewelry as Krunzle's.
"What is it to be?" the thief said. "Axe? Noose? Garrote?" He shuddered. "Not the half-strangle followed by disemboweling?"
The escort chuckled indulgently. "I have said, we are a poor country. We don't waste good flesh and sinew." He delivered Krunzle to the rear of the line. "Now stand there until it's your turn to go up."
A horn blew and the courtyard's outer gate opened. In came a motley crowd of Elidiran citizens who bustled over to the line of prisoners and began to poke and prod their persons. Krunzle noted that great attention was being paid to the thickness of arm and leg muscles, and struggled to recall if cannibalism featured in the city's reputation.
Few of the newcomers gave the thief more than a passing glance. A plump Elidiran in a merchant's robe and a floppy hat squeezed his lean bicep. The man's mouth twisted in a disparaging moue, and he made a backhanded gesture as if Krunzle was a fly to be shooed away.
"Baalariot gets straight to the point."
The inspection of the goods completed, the first prisoner in line was called up and bidding began. Krunzle was no expert in slave-market economics, but it seemed to him that the bidding was neither enthusiastic nor competitive: most of the items went for a few pieces of silver.
Then it was his turn. He laboriously mounted the hustings and looked out over the diminishing throng. Purchasers were leading their new acquisitions away, and only two faces looked up at him. One, the merchant who had prodded him, gave his head a shake, turned and walked off. The other was the gaunt, blade-nosed man from the tavern and the caravanserai. He regarded Krunzle with a dispassionate aspect and said, "One copper."
There being no other bidders, the official in charge of the auction banged the butt of his staff of authority on the boards and said, "Sold."
Krunzle was hustled down the steps and into the care of the man in the figured robe, who scarcely cast a glance in his direction as he paid over the single coin and signed a document held out to him on a scribe's copy board. Then he signaled to the bailiff that the manacles and fetters should be struck off.
A few moments later, lighter by several pounds of iron, Krunzle regarded his purchaser from the corner of his eye as he assessed his own condition. Being unfed for a whole day had sapped some of his vigor, and the torture had taken even more out of him, but once out the gate and into the warren of streets and alleys around the Gyve, he thought, there might come an opportunity or two...
His thoughts were interrupted by the tall man's action. He placed a round metal object against Krunzle's forehead and voiced an obscure word. The thief felt a coldness that penetrated through to the inner reaches of his skull, and for a moment his eyes bulged of their own accord. Then the medallion was withdrawn and the sensations ebbed.
"Strike yourself smartly," said the man who had bought him, "in the groin."
Krunzle was framing a derisory reply when a bolt of agony shot from his crotch to every other part of his torso, and the breath left his body. He found himself in an involuntary, knock-kneed crouch, a posture which gave him a good view of his own fist still wedged into the softness at the apex of his legs. The strangled sound he made was as much from surprise as pain.
"Good," said the man who had bought him. "Now come with me."
∗∗∗
"You have inadvertently done me a service," said Krunzle's purchaser when they were settled in the sumptuous room to which the thief had been led. They had reached it by traversing half the city, climbing to the elevated district where large public buildings and major temples predominated. Then they had ducked down an alley—by then Krunzle was walking almost normally—and through an unobtrusive gate in a blank wall, across a small courtyard and through a heavy ironbound door that opened when the robed man said a quiet word.
"I am Baalariot," he said, seating himself on a backless chair made of polished wood and curved aurochs horns. "My profession should be obvious to a discerning thief. You are now in my service."
From the man's portentous tone, Krunzle deduced that he was expected to express a respectful gratitude. Somehow the sentiment eluded him, but he judged that the circumstances—especially the residual ache between his legs—called for a measure of dissembling. "I look forward to—" he began, and was interrupted.
"Spare me the soft-soaping," Baalariot said. "I would rather trust to my skills than to your feigned goodwill."
Krunzle was not pleased at having been bought for small change and introduced to a novel form of self-abuse, but he smiled and agreed that his owner was a gentleman of rare insight.
Baalariot raised an eyebrow. "You are a canny one," he said. "I believe you will not only succeed in your mission, you may even survive."
The implied possibility that he might not survive whatever the wizard contemplated immediately focused the thief's attention. "What mission?" he said.
The other man preened the lay of his robe and said, off-handedly, "One that requires an able member of the thieving profession."
"Ah," said Krunzle, "I see where the error lies. I am but a traveling pearlmonger from—"
"Shh," said Baalariot, and Krunzle found that his lips and tongue would no longer obey his brain. "I've seen your transcript from the Gyve," he said. "More to the point, I know how you inveigled your way into the caravan's guards troop. You even fixed it so poor Idrix had to talk you into taking the job."
Speechless, Krunzle replied with a confessional lift and settle of eyebrows and shoulders.
"You showed intelligence and resource," said the man in the chair, "and, as I say, you've done me a service. I was on my way to Kerse to purchase someone like you from the Kalistocracy's prisons—they catch some of the cunningest specimens there, you know—but now you've saved me many days travel, there and back. Plus, you were a bargain."
Krunzle's face and hands now expressed a desire to communicate. "You may speak," said his owner, "so long as you do not waste my time. And,"—he glanced around at the walls of the chamber—"so long as you do not use... blunt language."
The slave found that his vocal apparatus was his own again. He thought he understood the admonition against blunt speech, and said, "You have bought me to 'acquire' something for you?"
"Technically, to 'acquire' something back from the one who 'acquired' it from me."
"And my reward?"
Baalariot moved a finger in a circular gesture. Krunzle felt a sudden intrusion, like a whirlwind of red-hot sand, in an intimate orifice. After a moment, it ceased, and so did his hopping about. "I see," he said.
"Good," said the wizard. "Best not to labor under any misapprehensions."
Krunzle gave over fanning the seat of his breeches. "So what is this object?"
"I cannot say."
"You don't know?"
"I know," said the wizard. "But I cannot say." He gestured toward the walls of the chamber. "Some of the spiders and cockroaches are in thrall to the... opposition. If I speak the name of the... object, it will be reported."
Krunzle wrinkled his brow. "And I'll wager you can't tell me who the opposition is, either."
"I said you were canny. The small eavesdroppers do not understand much," he tilted his head toward one wall, "but they are empowered to notice certain key words and report their utterance to the one who commands them. Then that person listens in. Sometimes, also, the listener tunes in at random intervals."
"Why don't you just kill the vermin?"
"Because they would be replaced by something else, and that something might be more difficult to circumvent."
"So how do I–"
"I will instruct you in your duties," Baalariot said, loudly, with a meaningful flick of his eyes toward the walls. "The floors must be swept morning and evening, the censers and braziers continually refilled..." He went on listing domestic requirements, but meanwhile, his hand slipped inside his robe and emerged with a small scroll, tightly rolled and tied with a horsehair. This he proffered to Krunzle, who took it and secreted it within his own upper garment.
"Your quarters are in the lower basement," the spellcaster finished. "You will remain there when not on duty. You will take your meals—two a day—in the servants' refectory, and—"
The wizard broke off, and Krunzle presumed that whatever force informed him of the surveillance had also signaled its end. He pointed at Krunzle and made a few incomprehensible sounds, then said, "There. I have placed you under the influence of Cardimion's Discriminating Geas. You will go to your quarters and study the scroll. When a chime sounds, you will set off on the mission detailed there."
"But," said the thief, "I don't know what I'm—" There was no point finishing the complaint because he found that he was suddenly possessed by an overwhelming desire to find the lower basement and read the scroll. He exited the room and found a corridor. For a moment he did not know which way to go, but then a small globe of light appeared in the air some distance away. When he turned toward it, it moved off at a walking pace. He followed it.
Coming Next Week: The perils of secret missions in Chapter Three of Hugh Matthews's "Krunzle the Quick."
Hugh Matthews is a pseudonym of critically acclaimed science-fantasy author Matthew Hughes, who is responsible for more than a dozen novels and is often called the "heir apparent" to the legacy of Jack Vance, particularly for his Archonate series. His novel Template was republished by Planet Stories, and his first Pathfinder Tales novel, Song of the Serpent, also features intrepid thief and confidence man Krunzle the Quick.
Our Top 8 contestant have had their entries playtested by you and it's time to vote! This round, our contestants have created a Golarion Location, Map and Encounter. Round 4 included a new twist, where each submission is being playtested and each encounter uses monsters from the Pathfinder Battles Heroes & Monsters miniatures. Fan votes will determine who of the Top 8 advances to Round 5, where the Top 4 will be submitting a Pathfinder Module adventure proposal. All finalist submissions, complete with judge and reader commentary, are posted to the paizo.com messageboards.
Voting ends on March 12 and the Top 4 will move on to Round 5. You can change your mind anytime until voting closes Monday, February 12 at 2 PM Pacific Time
The ultimate winner of RPG Superstar, announced April 3, 2012, will write a Pathfinder Module to be published in early 2013. The 2011 RPG Superstar champion module, Sam Zeitlin’s The Midnight Mirror, releases in April 2012.
Now that we’re wrapping up the last of the Advanced Race Guide, the design team is starting to work on Ultimate Equipment. This hardcover will cover all kinds of mundane and magical items for the Pathfinder RPG. As we have a little time before the text goes over to the editors, we’d like to give you one last chance to provide feedback for the book. Is there a kind of magic item that you’d like to see in this book? Is there an item category that’s lacking? Is there a class or game mechanic that is underrepresented in the item lists? Leave your feedback to this blog entry and we’ll see what else we can cram into the book!
Edit: Just to clarify, this book is basically a "shopping catalogue" of items fantasy adventurers may want to own and have a reasonable chance of purchasing. It isn't introducing any new rule systems or subsystems (such as legacy weapons), rework character wealth by level or the problems with the "big six" magic items, or introduce new magic item slots, new classes or archetypes, clarifications or expansions of the crafting or magic item pricing rules, castles and furniture, shift existing items to different slots, include magical equivalents of technological items (cell phones, portable stoves), items that duplicate or invalidate class abilities or feats, or futuristic weapons. We are adding new magic items to every single magic item slot. In particular, we'd like to know if there are any mundane items, weapons, or armor that fill a niche which isn't already covered in the game.
Pathfinder Society in the UK (How the Brit Faction Earns Prestige)
Monday, March 5, 2012
Illustration by Ben Wootten
Like many of the Pathfinder Society player base, most of my experiences and understanding of Pathfinder Society Organized Play is based on what I have seen, experienced and organized in the United States. However, the campaign and player base is a worldwide network. What I have learned since stepping into the Campaign Coordinator role is that Pathfinder Society experiences can be varying and different in other parts of the world, including Canada. This includes the way game days and conventions are organized, the expectations of the campaign’s past, current, and future scenarios, and the direction the campaign should move toward.
I think one of the most important responsibilities of a Campaign Coordinator is trying to understand the make-up of the entire fan base, not just the largest percentage of the players. I also think the campaign can be better served if all of us have a better understanding of how our fellow gamers participate, promote, and try to grow Pathfinder Society in their own regions of the world.
With that in mind, I plan to devote one blog a month to a different region where there is an active Pathfinder Society presence. I have tasked my international Venture-Captains with sending me a write-up of what Pathfinder Society is like in their part of the world. Most of what you will read is in their own words. There may be some slight editing changes, but by and large, what you will be reading is the Venture-Captain’s perspective on what Pathfinder Society is like under their guidance in their region.
I hope all of you will find the articles as interesting and informative as I do. First up is the United Kingdom under the direction of Venture-Captain Dave Harrison and Venture-Lieutenant Rob Silk. I plan to attend Paizo Con UK this year, and am excited to get an insight into what I can expect when I arrive in mid-July (and no, I do not fear the curse). Without further ado, I present Dave Harrison’s report on Pathfinder Society in the United Kingdom.
The Pathfinder Society is global, not just on Golarion but also in our world! While it has its origins in the United States, it has been active in the UK since its inception. And so, I’ve been asked to introduce you all to Pathfinder Society play in the UK.
Who am I to talk about this? My name is Dave Harrison, also known online as Wintergreen, and after being a GM and playing roleplaying games for far too long, I’m a self-confessed Paizo addict who has somehow become the UK Venture-Captain. Of course, it’s not just me over here. I’ve lost count of the many players and GMs we’ve recruited over the last few years. Oh, that’s not a royal “we” by the way. I’m also including my co-conspirator and Venture-Lieutenant, Rob Silk, in all of this. (Make sure you pronounce Lieutenant the British way too!)
Pathfinder and Paizo itself have always been popular here in the UK. When Paizo staff members have come over from the US, we have made sure they have felt very welcome despite any differences in the roleplaying cultures—two countries separated by a common hobby?
The Pathfinder Society was officially launched in the UK at Gen Con UK 2008 with a contingent of Paizo staff and that was an immediate success. Pathfinder Society games were sold out and everybody was talking about the quality of the scenarios. From that, I managed to talk my way into helping organize GMs and games at several conventions. Flush with success, I did something that might be called foolish, and has certainly influenced my life! I asked, on the Paizo messageboards, if there was any interest in a UK-based Pathfinder Society convention—our very own version of PaizoCon. The answer was positive and, somehow, one of the most disorganized of roleplayers found himself setting up a new convention. Thankfully, with the help of a lucky Bluff roll, I managed to talk a few other people into helping me!
So the first PaizoCon UK ran in July 2009 at Aston University’s Business School & Conference Centre. I’ll admit, even on that Saturday morning, I was worrying that nobody would turn up and I’d be sitting alone in a large room for the whole weekend.
Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. Over fifty people attended, including special guests such as our PaizoCon UK regular Richard Pett, some awesome GMs, and a fantastically keen group of players. Our only missing element was that Nick Logue, then Pathfinder Society Campaign Coordinator, couldn’t attend. Even so, by the end of the Sunday, people were already talking about how it would go next year! Even before I finished asking about doing another one, I heard a resounding “YES!”
The next year we had over 70 people attending, including Pathfinder Society Campaign Coordinator Joshua Frost, and we were given the opportunity to playtest the Year of the Shadow Lodge event. We also have a tradition of a Friday Night Balti meal to get everybody socializing at the start of the convention. Thankfully the waiters don’t bat an eyelid when we ask for a table for everybody.
By 2011, we had grown to over 100 people gaming across three different rooms in the conference center. Although one special guest, Pathfinder Society Campaign Coordinator Hyrum Savage, had to drop out at the last minute, we still held the Grand Melee where our high-level team “Szallus’ Mighty Taldan Beard” won through with a world-beating score. We concluded the convention with Shadow’s Last Stand, bringing the Year of the Shadow Lodge to a satisfactory conclusion.
This year, we will once again be at Aston University on the 21st and 22nd of July, with a host of almost 150 delegates and special guests, including Richard Pett, Eva Widermann, and many European Venture-Captains and Venture-Lieutenants, and Pathfinder Society Campaign Coordinator Mike Brock is braving the rumored curse to help us with an Olympic Class PaizoCon UK. Full details can be found on our website at www.paizocon.co.uk.
PaizoCon UK is our flagship, the Pathfinder Society convention for the UK, but it is far from the only event we attend (some might say dominate when the Pathfinders are noisily adventuring) in the UK. I have made efforts to ensure Pathfinder Society is represented at other major UK conventions, particularly Conception, the UK Games Expo, Oddcon, and Dragonmeet. Pathfinders turn up at many smaller conventions, fan-organized events, and regular games held at clubs, societies, and players’ homes.
So what do we have planned for Pathfinder Society in the UK?
Certainly we continue to grow—particularly into other parts of the UK besides England. Plans are in motion for a PaizoCon Wales, and Scotland and Ireland have growing numbers of Pathfinders. I am constantly recruiting GMs, more people willing to do my job for me by running and organizing games at conventions. We have more and more special events planned as well. Details will be disclosed at a future date.
While the UK lacks the US tradition of games being run in stores, such events are something I am working on. A few such events have already taken place and, inspired by the Beginner Box Bash event, we are planning a “Learn to Play Pathfinder” day at the Sheffield store Patriot Games on March 31st.
Convention organizers and store owners who wish to have Pathfinder Society events in the UK should contact me via paizoconuk@hotmail.com or through our website at http://paizocon.co.uk/ for support.
I am very proud to say that here in the UK the Pathfinder Society has established an excellent reputation for roleplaying, quality adventures, and skilled GMs. Convention organizers invite us to their events where we are consistently over-subscribed. Most of all, I am happy to report that when players are talking, I hear descriptions of heroic deeds, intriguing personalities, and thrilling adventures—exactly what gets reported in the Pathfinder Chronicles!
Dave Harrison Venture-Captain
And there you have it, our first international Pathfinder Society blog. If you are in another country and do not have a Venture-Captain, but think you can do as good a job as Dave did above, please do not hesitate to send me a write-up about Pathfinder Society play in your area of the world and include some photos.
Mike Brock Pathfinder Society Campaign Coordinator
Pathfinder Battles Preview: Ogre the River and Through the Woods...
Friday, March 2, 2012
One of the best parts of working at Paizo is getting to see the brand new art fresh as it arrives in the office. When a new Wayne Reynolds cover painting makes its way to the art department, editors and developers flock to the big monitors to check out the latest masterpiece. It's become a sort of ritual around here.
Five years ago, when we first launched the Pathfinder Adventure Path, we marveled as each new volume brought a fresh take on a classic fantasy monster. Wayne's goblins on the very first Pathfinder cover (flavored by James Jacobs's insane portrayal in the text) immediately conveyed our plans for the new Pathfinder product line—delivering a fresh new take on the classic themes and monsters of fantasy gaming.
In Pathfinder Adventure Path #3, “The Hook Mountain Massacre,” author Nicolas Logue cranked the “fresh new take” into overdrive in his portrayal of ogres as monstrous inbred hillbilly brutes. Wayne Reynolds gave Nick's ogres a puppet-like look that pushed the creepiness even further.
Just as we'd done with the goblins in volume #1, we wanted to give Pathfinder's ogres a distinctive take, and a distinctive visual look. Nick and Wayne delivered, creating an adventure that remains one of the most memorable and unsettling of Pathfinder's entire run to date.
You'll get a chance to play this great adventure (or play it again) in July with the release of the Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path Anniversary Edition hardcover. The Rise of the Runelords Pathfinder Battles prepainted miniatures set will support the campaign, with tons of miniatures inspired by images from the adventures.
Including three amazing ogres!
Up first is the uncommon Ogre, your general rank-and-file maniac. Like all three ogres in the set, this handsome gentleman comes directly from Wayne Reynolds's cover of “The Hook Mountain Massacre,” and he's never looked better. Don't tell the Ogre from Heroes & Monsters, but he's the runt of the litter when placed next to his, um, kin from Hook Mountain!
YEE HAW! Look out for this here big fella with the huge club! We call him the Ogre Brute on account of him swinging around that big stick, but he works just fine as a rank-and-file warrior. He's an uncommon like his brother.
On Hook Mountain, it takes a strong ogre indeed to keep all the family in line. In this set, that duty falls to the brutal Jaagrath Kreeg, a rare miniature with a leering smile and lust in his beady little eyes. I can say with authority that your players will love killing these guys, and you'll love putting them out on your game table.
Details on the release date, format, and price of the Pathfinder Battles Rise of the Runelords set are still being solidified by our partners at WizKids.
And in late-breaking far-future news, I now have a pretty good idea what will be in the NEXT Pathfinder Battles set. I can promise exciting Pathfinder Battles previews at this time in this space for many, many more months to come!
The Round 4 entries for RPG Superstar are live! Take a look at the locations and encounters designed by the Top 8, playtest the encounter with your group, and post your results! Your playtest feedback may be what pushes a competitor into one of the Top 4... or knock him out of the running entirely!
Voting opens Tuesday, March 6, and closes Monday, March 12!
It was a good plan, cunningly simple. It just didn't go the way the planner had meant it to.
A caravan from Egorian arrived in the late afternoon at the heavily fortified caravanserai just outside the walls of Elidir. The merchants who had pooled their resources—and defenses—into the cavalcade of fifty mule-drawn wagons and forty pack animals intended to remain at the way station until the following midday so that they could pick over the best offerings of Elidir's purveyors of precious goods. Those exquisitries would be added to the caravan's panniers and coffers that already bulged with fine wares from half a dozen lands around the Inner Sea. Then at noon the next day, the caravan would move on, bound for the luxury markets of Kerse in Druma.
While the hauling and carrying beasts rested and the traders chaffered, safe within the caravanserai's crenellated walls, half of the sixteen-strong complement of horse-archers were granted leave to visit the city's taverns and brothels, while the half who had lost the coin toss stayed behind and remained vigilant.
Three of the liberty contingent went no farther than a raucous and crowded establishment just inside the city gates, where they called for a keg of strong ale. While they were waiting for the drink to be fetched, they bellied up to the board stretched along one wall and filled wooden plates with bread and meats spiced with the fiery local sauces. They looked around for seats and saw no empty tables, only one long trestle that had half its bench-seats unfilled.
A trio of travelers were already seated at the table, by their style of dress identifiable as a small-scale merchant and his assistants. The former good-naturedly waved the guards to take the empty places. A lean, saturnine figure seated at the head of the table, wearing a robe marked with obscure symbols, gave no indication that he was aware of any of them. His blade-like nose was buried in an antique libram bound in red leather and marked with strange devices, and he sipped something green from a tall, slim glass without removing his hooded eyes from the page.
The guards accepted the travelers' invitation. They sat, and names and origins were politely exchanged, then the ale arrived and some time was spent washing away the throat-dust accumulated between Egorian and Elidir. The merchant then leaned forward and raised a finger as if to begin a conversation, but was forestalled by the man in wizard's garb, who put down his book and directed a question to the guards.
"Your caravan leaves when?"
"Midday tomorrow," the senior of the archers answered.
"Will it take on passengers?"
"We usually do. You'll have to ask the head men at the caravanserai in the morning."
The spellslinger nodded and, without thanking the guard, returned to his reading. A moment later, the first course of his meal was brought by the serving girl, and he addressed himself to the food without removing his gaze from the book.
Meanwhile, the leader of the trio of merchants, who said he was a pearlmonger from Merab across the Inner Sea, and now bound for Kerse, asked about road conditions ahead. Because the guards had accompanied similar caravans along this route, they were able to offer expert advice.
The self-described pearl merchant, a small and wiry fellow with a narrow brow and eyes that seldom settled in one position, said, "It is good that honest travelers share their intelligence. The roads are full of highwaymen and ditch-haunters, desperadoes all of them, who will slit a throat for a half-polished button."
The senior man of the archers agreed that it was a sad world, yet not altogether so. "Were it not for bandits and brigands, I would still be pushing a plow and swallowing horse farts in the hill country below the Menadors, instead of seeing other lands and drinking good ale in amiable company."
Hearing such an ably argued view, the pearlmonger declared himself forced to agree. He proposed a toast, and when the guards hoisted their wooden mugs, he insisted that they let him top up their ale with good arrack from the big black bottle he had been sharing with his assistants.
The caravan guards gladly accepted, and offered a toast of their own. It was soon decided that more of the strong-flavored arrack was needed, and the narrow-browed fellow raised an imperious finger to summon the serving maid. Events then settled into a repetitive pattern: more healths were drunk, songs were sung, anecdotes and spicy stories told, and lasting friendships boozily sworn. Somewhere early on in this process, the reader irritably snapped his book shut and left the tavern.
He also left, barely touched, a spiced apple dipped in plum sauce. The alleged pearlmonger scooped the desert toward him and devoured it with two quick bites. Soon after, he and his companions declared themselves spent. They retired to their rooms, while the archers continued to fill and empty their cups from the bottles of arrack the Merabite had kindly left behind.
As the first gray light of day glimmered over the mountains that separated Isger from Druma, the three guards rose, albeit unsteadily, to return to the caravanserai. They knew themselves to be well under the spell of strong drink, but that was nothing new. They could spend the morning sleeping off the effects of the carousal, while their employers chaffered with the merchants of Elidir. By the time the caravan set off again, the archers would be able to sit a saddle. And their ability to put a gray-fletched arrow into a hand-sized target at a hundred paces would be unimpaired.
"Never trust a knifeman."
Halfway between the gate and the caravanserai, the first of the guards experienced a sudden shifting of his innards, as if a large and liquid weight had decided to fling itself from one side of him to the other. He stopped abruptly, and his face assumed an unusual aspect that paradoxically combined deep uncertainty with a dread conviction. He then walked with a rapid, spraddle-legged gait to a stand of low bushes beside the road, his fingers fumbling at the ties and points of his breeches.
The other two archers stopped to make rude noises and offer tactless comments at their companion's expense. But after a moment, their smiles collapsed as their own faces assumed the same haunted expression they had been mocking. Now each of them hurried to find his own bush.
Some time later, three pale and groaning figures presented themselves at the caravanserai's gates. Idrix, the captain of the archers, was called. He examined the men and declared them unfit for service.
"A belly flux," he said, and ordered them to report to the caravanserai's hospice, to be collected when the caravan returned on its way out of Druma. Their pay would be docked.
"I will go into the city," he told his second in command, "and see what I can find in the way of replacements. I don’t want to go up into the mountains under strength."
He was not happy about having to choose from what Elidir had to offer. It was common knowledge among fighting men of many nations that the Goblinblood Wars had robbed Isger of every warrior who knew which end of a sword to hold, and those who were left were either untested youths or haunted-eyed old veterans long since lost to drink. As he rode toward the city gate, the captain was thinking that he might be best advised to visit the slave market and see if there were any well set-up foreigners with military experience for sale.
Just outside the gate, he reined in as three men in leather and buckram came out. They paused to adjust their packs and touch the tips of their staffs together, as travelers often did for luck at the beginning of a journey. They were none of them large, but each had a hard and wiry look to him, and Idrix could see, even at a casual glance, at least eight daggers and throwing knives distributed about their persons.
"Gentlemen," he said, "would you be Druma-bound, by any chance?"
The apparent leader of the trio, a low-browed fellow with restless eyes, looked up at him with suspicion. "What business is that of yours?" he said. "If you're thinking we three are easy meat for a highwayman on a tall horse, here's an opportunity to change your opinion."
There was a vertical post set in the ground near the road outside the gate. Hedvend VI's judges sometimes sentenced certain classes of malefactors to be bound there, exposed to the caprices of passersby until they thoroughly repented of their offenses or expired—whichever came first. The post was untenanted this morning, but within moments of the wiry man's words, and after a brief flurry of motions, the wood was suddenly pierced by a half-dozen blades, their hilts aquiver from the impacts.
"Impressive," said the guard captain.
The three travelers were already working their weapons free of the wood and returning them to scabbards and sheaths. "It means so much to us to have won your high regard," said the low-browed one. He tucked away a short but wide-bladed throwing knife and turned to face the high country to the east.
"Wait," said Idrix.
The other man turned an irritated gaze his way. "We have a long, uphill walk ahead of us and the sun is already above those peaks."
"How would you to like to ride instead of walk?"
The knife-thrower's look of suspicion only deepened.
"And be paid for it," the captain added.
"We are busy men. If you have something to say, stop poncing about and say it."
Idrix was not used to being talked to in such a manner, but he swallowed his irritation and told them he was three guards short of a full complement and wished to offer them employment.
The three looked at him with suspicion, then gave each other questioning glances. A brief negotiation followed, during which Idrix was driven far off from his offering price. Detailed terms of service were also haggled over, the leader of the three initially expressing horror at the thought that when the caravan laagered for the night, they would have to stand watch on the perimeter.
"Well," said Idrix, pushing back his helmet and scratching his head, "where would you spend your nights when you're on the road alone?"
"We make a fire," said the smaller man, "then move out into the darkness and dig shallow trenches, where we lie under a layer of bushes and bracken. We watch in turns, and should any night-lurker creeps up to the fire, we silently leap up, our finely balanced knives in hand, and"—he made a whispery sound: whit, whit, whit—"soon he has gained a new and unsought knowledge of life's capacity to play cruel tricks."
Idrix contemplated making a comment, then decided not to. Instead he said, "Night sentry duty is a necessary part of your duties."
The three regarded him without enthusiasm. Then the leader said, "Can we at least stand watch together? We are used to supporting each other."
The guard captain found that a reasonable condition, and after a few more details were worked out, an agreement was struck and he led them back to the caravanserai to sign them onto the rolls. Within the fortified compound, the traders and their drivers were efficiently repacking wagons and saddlebags, preparing to set off at noon. Idrix and his three reluctant recruits wove their way through an organized chaos of stamping hooves, swearing men, tangles of harness, and side-stepping beasts to the spot where the merchants who had commissioned the whole enterprise stood in conversation with some persons from Elidir.
A half-dozen individuals were gathered around the caravan's owners, seeking to purchase the right to join the cavalcade, it being the safest means of crossing the wild lands between Isger and Druma, where goblinoids of various sorts still occasionally ambushed travelers. As the archer captain and the three new guards came up, one of the passage-seekers, a sinewy, grim-featured specimen in an ankle-length robe marked with strange runes, turned his head and noticed the trio.
"You!" he said. "Do you know you spoiled my dinner and gave me indigestion that kept me up half the night? You and those damned archers!"
The low-browed one looked anywhere but at the wizard, saying, "You mistake me, sir, for another..."
"No, I don't —" began the accuser, but then he broke off and his hooded gaze went from the three newcomers to the guard captain, whose brows were now knitting up a skein of suspicion.
"Aha!" the gaunt man said, "I've smoked it! You nobbled the guards so you could take their—"
As he'd been speaking, the pearlmonger's face had been showing growing alarm, and his hand had been moving smoothly and slowly toward the haft of one of the knives strapped to his chest. The man in the figured robe saw the way things were going and moved his own hand in a particular motion that ended with the fingers configured in precise arrangements. He spoke two syllables.
The accused man's hand now attained its goal, but when he sought to draw the throwing knife—and as his companions made similar attempts—they all found that the blades were fixed permanently in their scabbards.
A moment of silence and suspension occurred. Then the low-browed man said, in a whisper all could hear, "Run!"
Coming Next Week: Thieves and wizards in Chapter Two of Hugh Matthews’s "Krunzle the Quick."
Hugh Matthews is a pseudonym of critically acclaimed science-fantasy author Matthew Hughes, who is responsible for more than a dozen novels and is often called the "heir apparent" to the legacy of Jack Vance, particularly for his Archonate series. His novel Template was republished by Planet Stories, and his first Pathfinder Tales novel, Song of the Serpent, also features intrepid thief and confidence man Krunzle the Quick.
The Top 8 for RPG Superstar have completed their Round 4 entries! This round, our contestants have created a Golarion Location, Map and Encounter. Round 4 included a new twist, where each submission is being playtested and each encounter uses monsters from the Pathfinder Battles Heroes & Monsters miniatures. Fan votes will determine who of the Top 8 advances to Round 5, where the Top 4 will be submitting a Pathfinder Module adventure proposal. All finalist submissions, complete with judge and reader commentary, are posted to the paizo.com messageboards.
The submissions and judge reviews are now live! Discuss the entries and vote for your favorites, as well as engage in the playtest. Voting starts on March 6 and ends March 12, and the Top 4 (by votes) will move on to Round 5.
The ultimate winner of RPG Superstar, announced April 3, 2012, will write a Pathfinder Module to be published in early 2013. The 2011 RPG Superstar champion module, Sam Zeitlin’s The Midnight Mirror, releases in April 2012.
If I have the pounce ability and I charge with a lance, do my iterative lance attacks get the extra damage multiplier from charging?
No, for two reasons.
One, because a lance only deals extra damage when you’re riding a charging mount—not when you are charging.
Two, even if you have an unusual combination of rules that allows you to ignore the above limitation, it doesn’t makes sense that those iterative attacks gain the damage bonus. To make that second attack, you have to pull the lance back and stab forward again, and that stab doesn’t have the benefit of the charge’s momentum. (The Core Rulebook doesn’t state that you only get the damage multiplier on the first attack with a lance because there is no rule in the Core Rulebook that allows a PC to charge and take multiple attacks with a weapon, so that combination didn’t need to be addressed.)
If I drink a potion, do I automatically forgo my save against that potion?
No. Nothing in the potion rules says it changes whether or not you get a saving throw against the spell stored in the potion. Even if someone hands you a potion of poison and tells you it’s a potion of cure serious wounds, you still get a save.
Does the dodge bonus from the “offensive defensive” rogue talent (Advanced Player’s Guide, page 131) stack with itself? Does it apply to everyone, or just to the target I’m attacking?
There are two issues relating to this rogue talent.
One, in the first printing it provided a +1 circumstance bonus against the attacked target, which was a very weak ability. The second printing update changed it from a circumstance bonus to a dodge bonus, but accidentally omitted the “against that creature” text, which made it a very strong ability.
Two, it doesn’t specify whether the dodge bonus stacks with itself, and because this creates a strange place in the rules where bonuses don’t stack from the same source but dodge bonuses always stack. While we haven’t reached a final decision on what to do about this talent, we are leaning toward this solution: the dodge bonus only applies against the creature you sneak attacked, and the dodge bonus does not stack with itself. This prevents you from getting a dodge bonus to AC against a strong creature by sneak attacking a weak creature, and prevents you from reaching an absurdly high AC by sneak attacking multiple times in the same round.
For Gen Con 2012, we plan to make this the biggest and best Gen Con yet! I am scheduling 750 tables of Pathfinder Society over the four days. We are also bringing the GM 101 workshops that debuted at Paizo Con (and were discussed in last Monday’s blog) to Gen Con. They will hopefully be a hit and draw in new players and GMs to Pathfinder Society, as well as make active Pathfinder Society players take the next step and help to GM in their home regions.
We will be hosting Pathfinder RPG Beginner Box Introductions. During nine of the 10 slots at Gen Con, we are setting aside four tables at each slot for these events. These are scheduled with new players in mind. The first 45–60 minutes will be exploring the contents of the Beginner Box, explaining the rules, and reviewing the pregenerated characters. The final 4 hours of each slot will be playing through the four 1-hour adventures that were offered during the Beginner Box Bash.
In addition, we are adding a Pathfinder Kid’s Track to our gaming area. We are focusing on players aged 6–12 and we will be using the Beginner Box for this as well. Each Kid’s Track slot will be 2 hours long and each player will receive a check-off card, very similar to what was used at the Beginner Box Bash. The first hour teaches roleplaying and rules and reviews the pregenerated characters found in the Beginner Box. During the second hour, one of the four 1-hour adventures used during the Beginner Box Bash will be played. We will be restricting tables to four children players and are requiring a parent or guardian be present with each child (or multiple children if they have two or more interested in participating) for the entire 2 hours. The parent or guardian will assist the child when needed. But, we want to make this a good and memorable experience for the kids that attend Gen Con, who often find little they can participate in, especially with others their own age. We will be scheduling eight slots per day for the Kid’s Track. However, we are only scheduling one adventure each day. If a child comes back and plays a different adventure each of the 4 days, he will be able to present his check-off card and receive a special certificate. We may also have other giveaways or special prizes. I will be very picky when choosing volunteer GMs for the Kid’s Track. I prefer to have schoolteachers and other professionals with experience dealing with children, but I will consider GMs who are parents even if they do not deal with children regularly in their profession. If you are volunteering to GM the Kid’s Track, please make sure to include all of your credentials. Also, since these are scheduled as 2-hour blocks, a GM will be required to run two Kid’s Track slots back to back in a 4-hour block to count as one slot of credit toward GM rewards.
Finally, we are adding an invitation-only second round to the Gen Con Special: Race for the Runecarved Key! The first round will be what you have come to know and love as the Pathfinder Special. It will be 75 tables all working together to overcome some nasty problem the Decemvirate wants dealt with. However, the change this year is that we are adding a special, secret scoring system. The top three tables from each tier will advance to the invitation-only second round.
This second round will be one of the deadliest dungeons ever explored by the Pathfinder Society, and only the very best of the organization’s agents even have a chance of surviving. Again, let me emphasize—this will be a true and deadly test of the Pathfinder Society’s best teams. It is almost a guarantee some Pathfinders will die. Make sure to bring your A-game. The first round will be made available to qualifying conventions worldwide after Gen Con 2012 as it is every year. However, the second round is only being offered this once—at Gencon 2012.
At this point I am looking at restricting the GM pool to only 4- and 5-Star GMs. To top it off, the players that advance to the second round will trade in their Chronicle sheets received after the first round as their tickets to this invitation-only event. When they complete the second round, they will receive new Chronicle sheets with a very special boon. We haven’t forgotten about our volunteer GMs for the special either. We didn’t want them to miss out on the opportunity to play in the invitation-only second round. So, we will be entering all Round 1 GMs into a drawing, were we will pull six names. Those six GMs will then receive a seat at a 16th table of the second round.
The observant readers may have caught that I just mentioned 16 tables and are scratching their heads that three tables from each tier and the special GM table don’t add up to 16 tables. Well, you are right. Like last week’s blog that announced a special Tier 12+ event at Paizo Con, we are adding a Tier 12+ to both rounds of this year’s Gen Con special! The special will be written for Subtiers 1–2, 3–4, 5–6, 8–9, 10–11, and 12+, and we'll actually have 19 tables of round 2.
Now, let’s talk about the GMs and volunteers we need to pull all of the above off and make it an awesome Gen Con.
I need a minimum of 125 volunteer GMs for Pathfinder Society games, Beginner Box Introductions, and Kid’s Track events. I’ll continue taking volunteer GMs until the slots are filled, at which point I will create a waiting list in the event a scheduled GM has to cancel his or her Gen Con trip for whatever reason. I also need eight Volunteer Assistants for each slot of the show. These folks will not GM during their volunteer slots, but will instead help me run Pathfinder Society HQ—including marshalling, collecting tickets, distributing GM packs, and entering tracking sheets into the database—and will be our go-to guys and gals for all things Pathfinder Society.
Below you will find the reward structure for volunteering at Gen Con 2012. Keep in mind that you’re volunteering for slots, not a specific event. I will let you know the slots and scenarios you have been assigned as soon as possible. You may designate what tier scenarios you wish to GM but this is not guaranteed to be filled. I will do the best I can to accommodate your requests. My target date to get all GMs their assigned schedules is April 10. This should allow you plenty of time to plan a schedule, before the May 20 event registration, with your friends and family who are also attending Gen Con 2012. Please let me know via email which days you will be at the convention and how many slots you are volunteering for at Gen Con 2012.
Volunteer Tiers and Rewards
Tier 1 GM Volunteers
Tier 1 GM volunteers are my every day GMs. They are invaluable to making the show a success. Tier 1 GMs must select and volunteer for a MINIMUM of 7 slots. Tier 1 GMs may feel free to volunteer for more than 7 slots if they so desire. Any slots over 7 will be used as overfill GMs. Overfill GMs are requested to show up for muster but will be free for the slot if a scenario has all of its assigned GMs present. I only have room for 80 Tier 1 GM volunteers so don't delay in volunteering for this tier. Volunteers will be chosen on a first-come, first-served basis, though I reserve the right to select volunteers who have previously worked for Paizo over new volunteers. Please do not volunteer for Tier 1 if you have any doubts that you won't be able to attend the show. Tier 1 GMs receive:
A FREE 4-day Gen Con 2012 badge
A FREE 1/4 of a hotel room in the Hyatt Regency Hotel
A $10 per slot voucher for Paizo.com credit, useable at the show or anytime after, including with your subscriptions
A FREE limited edition Paizo Publishing Gen Con 2012 T-Shirt
Tier 3 GM Volunteers
While the rewards for volunteering for this tier are smaller, the majority of my volunteers will come from Tier 3. Tier 3 GMs must volunteer for a MINIMUM of 5 slots. Tier 3 GMs receive:
A FREE 4-day Gen Con 2012 badge
A $10 per slot voucher for Paizo.com credit, useable at the show or anytime after, including with your subscriptions
A FREE limited edition Paizo Publishing Gen Con 2012 T-Shirt
Tier 4 GM Volunteers
This is the minimum volunteer level. Tier 4 GMs must volunteer for a MINIMUM of 3 slots. Tier 4 GMs receive:
A $10 per slot voucher for Paizo.com credit, useable at the show or anytime after, including with your subscriptions
A FREE limited edition Paizo Publishing Gen Con 2012 T-Shirt
Volunteering for One or Two Slot
While we will gladly accept anyone who wants to run just one or two slots during the show, there are no rewards for doing so other than our thanks.
When Volunteering...
Please be specific about what days and how many slots you are volunteering for. I will assign folks to slots and scenarios on an as-needed basis. I will update the needs in the thread below as I receive volunteers, so you may look there to remain up to date on where we still need help. You must have a gencon.com account and you must include your gencon.com account number in your email or I won’t be able to get you a badge (obviously this is only for volunteers who are volunteering for 5 or more slots). Finally, include your Paizo.com email account so I can make sure you receive the scenarios in your downloads.
Slot 1: Thursday 8 A.M. to 1 P.M. Slot 2: Thursday 1 P.M. to 6 P.M. Slot 3: Thursday 7 P.M. to Midnight Slot 4: Friday 8 A.M. to 1 P.M. Slot 5: Friday 1 P.M. to 6 P.M. Slot 6: Friday 7 P.M. to Midnight (Gen Con Special Round 1) Slot 7: Saturday 8 A.M. to 1 P.M. Slot 8: Saturday 1 P.M. to 6 P.M. Slot 9: Saturday 7 P.M. to Midnight (Gen Con Special Round 2) Slot 10: Sunday 9 A.M. to 2 P.M.
All Gen Con 2012 volunteers please email me at mike.brock@paizo.com with the subject line Gen Con Volunteer.
Thanks in advance for volunteering, good luck, and have a great spring and summer convention season!
Mike Brock Pathfinder Society Campaign Coordinator
There's just no two ways about it. If you read through this Pathfinder Battles Rise of the Runelords preview, you're putting yourself at risk of some plot spoilers. If you plan to play through the campaign, I highly recommend that you do not look super-closely at the miniatures I'm revealing today, as they could spoil a couple of fun surprises in the Adventure Path.
Our new Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path Anniversary Edition hardcover is set to release this summer around the same time as the Rise of the Runelords miniatures set (still no specifics on release date or price for the miniatures, alas). The hardcover collects the entire classic first Pathfinder Adventure Path in a newly revised edition, with plenty of fun bells and whistles we'll be revealing over the next few months.
So a lot of people who have not yet had a chance to play the campaign will soon get that chance. If you think you'll be one of them, and you want to maintain your sense of surprise as long as possible, I suggest that you stop reading immediately.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Spoilers Ahead!:
First up this week we have Aldern Foxglove, a local lord encountered by the player characters in the opening encounters of the campaign. Foxglove serves as an ally and patron to the heroes, and stars in some additional expanded encounters in the hardcover, written by James Jacobs, who introduced Aldern the first time way back in Pathfinder Adventure Path #1.
Aldern is one of many NPCs to receive a new illustration in the Anniversary Edition. In many cases, we ordered these new pieces of art specifically because we knew the character needed a miniature. In the original, we only ever saw an image of Aldern's face, so this time we wanted to make sure that we captured his entire body. I think this figure, a rare, also doubles nicely for any male noble, city dandy, or even a well-dressed bard player character.
And here we have the rare The Skinsaw Man, who for whatever reason seems to have gotten a hold of a familiar jacket. I won't say much more here, other than to mention that this figure has a long purple tongue you can't quite make out in the photo, and that the splattered blood effects bring me much personal joy and satisfaction.
A noble figure like Aldern Foxglove could really use a well-dressed woman at his side, and for these purposes we've included the cunning Lucrecia, also a rare figure. Lucrecia makes a great figure for any female noble, and she plays an important role in the middle part of the Rise of the Runelords campaign. Generally speaking, we try to limit specific characters to the rare rarity. While everyone can use a nice figure of a noblewoman holding a glass of wine, you don't really need a ton of them. Placing these specific figures at the higher rarity also gives our partners at WizKids the opportunity to layer on some really great detail, like the brocade work on Lucrecia's dress and the detail on her corset. Given how many folks liked the unarmed Human Druid from Heroes & Monsters as a townsfolk figure, I think a lot of people are going to get a kick out of Aldern Foxglove and Lucrecia!
And because every preview blog needs a good monster, here's the uncommon Lamia Matriarch. This Large snake-woman has multiple uses throughout the campaign, covering two major enemies in the first half of the Adventure Path. I don't include her in this blog for any other reason. None at all. Humm dee dummm dee dooo.
So! I hope you guys dig this latest batch of releases. They look great in hand, and I'm thrilled to have them in the set. By the time you read this, an agent of WizKids is already at the Paizo office, having delivered the very final miniatures for us to approve and photograph for future preview blogs.
That means the final details on the Rise of the Runelords set, such as price and official release date, must be just over the horizon!
Right now the Top 8 are working like mad to finish the Round 4 challenge by tomorrow’s deadline. Their location-encounters go live on Tuesday, but there’s a unique twist to this round—the competition schedule includes a week for the public to have an open playtest of these encounters. This has never been done before in RPG Superstar, and we strongly encourage you to playtest at least one of the Top 8 encounters and post your playtest feedback in the encounter’s thread on the RPG Superstar messageboards.
Voting begins on March 6th, and we expect the playtest feedback will greatly help sort out who’s moving on to the Top 4 and the final design challenge for RPG Superstar 2012!
In Song of the Serpent, veteran thief Krunzle the Quick gets caught burgling the house of a powerful Kalistocrat of Druma, and in exchange for his life agrees to attempt a dangerous mission to recover the merchant's runaway daughter. Such things are not so easily done, however, and in this chapter Krunzle has just been captured by the thugs in charge of a thriving mining town...
Chapter Four: A Promising Young Troll
When he awoke this time, he was at least unbound. He was lying on his back on a wooden floor in a dark place. But he knew he was not alone from the hubbub of voices and motion around him. Something startling had happened—no, frightening, he thought as his senses fully reassembled themselves and reported for duty—and a crowd of people were reacting to it by putting as much distance between themselves and the something as their circumstances allowed.
But their circumstances were not liberal; the mob had not gone far away, though the panicky cries and curses suggested they would have liked to. Krunzle also suspected that, given the chance, the unseen melee of forms struggling against each other in the darkness would have welcomed the opportunity to bathe—surely, nobody wanted to reek of filth, sweat, rotten meat, and untreated sores. And over it, a strong stink of charred meat.
His head ached, but at least it was clear. He sat up, and as he did so he heard from behind him the tramping of hard-soled boots on planks, accompanied by a faint light that grew stronger. He turned his head and, seeing vertical stripes of light, realized that they were gaps between the timbers of a heavy door. Someone was approaching the other side, carrying a light.
A rattle of iron keys, then the turning of an unoiled lock, and now the door was pushed in. A big man armed with a club bent to peer under the low lintel of the doorway, extending the oil lamp into the room. "What's all the ruckus?" he said.
He didn't seem to have directed the question at Krunzle, and the thief used the presence of the light to look about him. He was sitting on the floor of a large room, its walls made of squared-off logs. The room contained three or four score men—ragged, filthy, scrofulous-looking men—who were crowded in a group against the far wall, their eyes large in the lamplight.
The eyes were frightened and focused on Krunzle—except he now saw that the mob's collective gaze kept going to something on the floor between him and them. Something man-sized and man-shaped that, when the fellow with the lamp came into the room, casting more illumination on the scene, was revealed to be a man. Or at least most of one. And what was left of him was dead.
The man with the club stepped past the thief and bent to examine the body. Krunzle took the opportunity to rise. He thought about making a break through the open door, but decided he was far too wobbly on his feet. And for all he knew, in the blackness that seemed to be outside this jail—for ragged men, a strong door, and a man with a key and a club all said jail to Krunzle—he'd run straight over the lip of the gorge.
The corpse was that of a heavily muscled man with a scarred face and no hands or forearms. Above where his elbows should have been were charred stumps, still smoking. His eyes were wide open, as was his mouth, creating an impression that his final emotion had been huge and painful surprise.
The jailer made a noise of confirmation, straightened, and poked the club gingerly in Krunzle's direction. "You," he said, "back off. Over in that corner, and stay there." When the traveler raised both hands in a gesture of non-confrontation and did as he was bid, the man with the club pointed at a couple of the ragamuffins and said, "You two, haul this out and dump it in Skanderbrog's trough."
The indicated pair crept forward, took the corpse's ankles, and began to drag it toward the door. "Wait," said the jailer, then stooped to rifle the body's rags, which Krunzle noted were in better condition than any of those worn by the other men in the cell. Having found and pocketed a few items, the man with the club said, "Carry on."
He remained in the room, eyeing Krunzle warily, until the corpse detail returned. Then he pointed the club at the thief again, said, "No more trouble," and left, taking the lamp with him.
Krunzle heard the key turn in the lock again. Before the light went, he had seen rags and sacking on the floor near him. He scooped these into a pile, then lay down. Over on the other side of the room, he heard stirrings and mutterings and a few curses as the crowd of ragged men composed themselves for what remained of the night.
None of them came too near Krunzle, for which the traveler was grateful. Their stench was not to his liking. He raised a hand to carefully waggle his jaw, poked with his tongue at the loosened tooth, and contemplated the general ache in his skull. He had known worse.
He needed sleep. Tomorrow would bring more information about his predicament, and perhaps some means of improving it. His last thought was to wonder again what Skanderbrog was.
∗ ∗ ∗
Krunzle, along with the other slaves, was roused at dawn by the clanging of an iron bar on an iron triangle hung outside the strongroom. The door was flung open by another man with a club, and the slaves roused themselves from where they had slept on the floor and rushed outside. The thief rose and followed.
He found himself on a broad platform made of planks, close to the edge of the gorge. The ragged men were clustered around a big cauldron near the door to the barracks. They'd taken rough wooden bowls and were dipping them into the big pot and slurping the contents. More tough-looking men with cudgels—some of them had coiled whips at their belts—stood around, some of them telling the ragged men to hurry up and finish.
Krunzle went to the pile of bowls, found one that was not too encrusted with dried remnants of previous meals, and moved toward the cauldron. He could not help but notice that those in his path—or even well wide of it—moved out of his way. Even the bruisers seemed chary of coming too close to him.
He dipped the bowl into the stuff in the pot—some kind of pasty gruel afloat with chunks of spoiled vegetables—and brought it to his lips. It tasted like pig swill, the kind given to swine who were not highly prized by their owner. But he reasoned that the day was not likely to offer better nourishment, and he remembered someone saying last night that he would be "moving baskets of ore." That was not work to be undertaken on an empty stomach.
He saw the red-bearded Ulfen who had beaten him at Wartnose's behest come down from the town and speak a word with a big-shouldered guard who looked to be in charge. The thief recognized this one too: he had been one of the men who had come to take him from Room Thirteen. Now Redbeard went back the way he had come and the head guard cast his gaze over the workers, until he found the one he was looking for. "Raimeau!" he called. "You show the new man what to do!"
A gangling young man with long locks of prematurely gray hair got up from where he'd been eating, drained the final few drops of gruel from his bowl, then wiped its wet inner side with a finger to lick off the absolutely last remnants. He tossed the bowl onto the heap of others and came very slowly toward the traveler, his hands extended in a gesture that said he hoped for no trouble.
Krunzle noticed that Raimeau's eyes went from his to the thing around his neck and back again. The traveler put the facts together. To the young man he said, "You have no need to worry about this,"—he moved a hand to indicate Chirk—"as long as you leave it alone."
"Have no fear," said the other. "Seeing what happened to Chenax was instruction enough for me."
"Chenax was the man with no hands?"
"He was, though he had a very hard pair of fists before he met you, and had no qualms about using them."
At that moment, a whistle blew and the slaves moved toward the edge of the platform. "Work?" said the thief.
"Work," said Raimeau. "We'll be hauling baskets of ore from the face up to the crusher. Watch where you put your feet, because there are no railings on the ledge or the scaffolding. One misstep, and you'll be joining Skanderbrog for dinner. Like Chenax is about to do for breakfast."
The thief focused on the immediate. "Are Chenax's shoes still available?" He indicated his stockinged feet. "Mining is no work for the unshod."
"They will be if Skanderbrog hasn't had breakfast yet. He usually doesn't bother to peel his fruit."
∗ ∗ ∗
"So this is a Skanderbrog."
Skanderbrog, it turned out, was a name—a name that had been given to a juvenile male troll by his mother, who after nursing him through childhood and teaching him the rudiments of trollery, had handed young Skanderbrog the forequarter of a deer and sent him down from the mountains to see if he could establish a territory for himself and get on with life. But Skanderbrog had been unable to find a niche that was not already occupied by larger and more experienced trolls. Starving, he had come down to forage on the outskirts of Ulm's Delve. After eating a couple of unsuccessful gold-panners—they made poor meals, being half-starved themselves, living off leaves and roots while striving for the elusive gleam in the pan—he had been trapped in a pit that Wartnose's mage had caused to be dug and lined with charms.
The man with the wart on his nose was, as the thief might have expected, the same Boss Ulm by whose order Ulm's Delve barred "thieves, filchers, bun-passers, vagrants, and holy-fakers." The skeletally thin wizard he employed was Mordach the Prudent, and the red-bearded Ulfen was Brundelaf, the outfit's chief enforcer. He even knew the name of the brawler who had clipped him: Little Fost, he was called—apparently there was a larger version somewhere in the world. The thief thought he would as lief as not be spared the experience of making Big Fost's acquaintance.
Raimeau was both the knowledgeable type and the sort who liked to tell what he knew. As they descended the scaffolding then stepped off the trestle-work to where a broad ledge had been cut in the rock face, he filled Krunzle in on the history of Ulm's Delve. By the time they had wrested a pair of sturdy shoes from the feet of dead, handless Chenax, laid in a broad wooden trough at one end of the ledge, near a cave sealed behind a grillwork of black metal, the thief was well briefed.
Boss Ulm had established himself quite solidly here in the Rumples, as this stretch of hilly country was called. Hearing of the gold strike and the rush of goldbugs into the region, he had come with his henchmen to establish the first saloon, brothel, and hardware emporium—in tents at first, though a sawmill was one of his earliest accomplishments, so that he could put up more enduring structures.
Once the instant town was booming, and Brundelaf and Little Fost and the others had eliminated any doubts as to who was in charge, Ulm had begun to think larger thoughts. He had hired Mordach the Prudent and set him the task of locating the source of the alluvial gold that had the prospectors lining the river's banks, panning and sluicing. The mage had cast his runesticks and questioned a number of subterranean beings he managed to summon and bind. Finally, he had marked a spot halfway up the south side of Starkriven Gorge, as the sheer canyon upriver from the town was called.
Ulm had established a claim to the gorge by the simple expedient of sending his bullyboys to throw out the handful of gold-hunters who were trying to work the gravel beneath the swift-running water at its bottom. He then moved the infant town to the edge of the chasm and began to develop a mine.
Mines require miners. These Ulm acquired by the simplest and least costly of measures: he promulgated several ordinances, signed by himself as de facto Reeve of Ulm's Delve. He knew that gold camps attract more than goldbugs; they attract several categories of persons who are skilled in separating prospectors from their pokes of dust and the occasional nugget. Boss Ulm made many of these activities illegal—the penalty for engaging in such banned enterprises was to be sentenced to an indefinite span of labor in the mine or the sawmill. He soon had a sizable, though resentful, work force.
Ulm had them build a trestle-work of timbers from the gorge's bottom to its top, and cut a wide ledge at the level where the seam of gold within the rock came closest to the rock face. Some of his enslaved card sharps, cutpurses, badger-gamers, and sandbaggers were set to hacking their way through to the gold, while others carried baskets of split rock to the surface, piling up the ore where Ulm had put more of his prisoners—there seemed to be an unending supply—to building him a crushing mill.
In the early days, the work had gone slowly, but the pace speeded up considerably when Mordach was able to bring Skanderbrog—in massive leg fetters of hammered iron—into the picture. Accommodating the troll required extra shoring up of the scaffolding, the cutting into the rock of a cell barred with a thick grill of charmed iron—the cell outside which Chenax waited to make his final contribution to Boss Ulm's wealth—and the manufacture of a huge hammer and chisel scaled to the young monster's size. But the investment was worth it. After a couple of the least-motivated workers were delegated to become troll-fodder, in full view of the rest of the work force, the mine's productivity increased severalfold.
Krunzle was on the ledge with Raimeau, trying on the dead man's shoes—they almost fit—when the whistle blew again. "We should leave here," the other man said. "Skanderbrog's coming out." As he spoke, a creak of metal on metal announced that the iron grillwork covering the opening at the end of the ledge was being winched upward on unseen cables. The thief needed no more encouragement but went quickly back the way they had come.
The young troll emerged into the morning light, blinking. Krunzle could see that he was not full grown: his undertusks thrust up no more than a few inches and he was barely twice the thief's height, even allowing for the stooped, bent-kneed stance that was common to his species. But his months of enslavement to Boss Ulm, each day spent swinging a hammer with a head as big as a man's torso to drive a long, thick chisel into resisting rock, had put even more muscle onto Skanderbrog's arms and shoulders than most mature trolls ever achieved. Trolls were generally averse to hard labor, preferring to make their livings by leaping from concealment onto passersby of whatever species. After overwhelming their prey with sudden, massive violence, they would sit down immediately to eat them raw. Trolls actually preferred cooked food, but most were too lazy to bother gathering fuel and going through the process of kindling a fire.
Skanderbrog's attention was drawn to the trough. He picked up Chenax in both his talon-tipped hands and brought his long snout down to sniff the body's charred arm-stumps. He clearly found the scent unpleasant, and delicately pulled Chenax's upper limbs from their sockets, much like a man twisting the wings off a cooked fowl, and threw them into the gorge.
The iron entrance to his cave closed behind him. He ignored it, and hunkered down on his haunches. A single twist of his wrist and Chenax's head popped off in his hand. He tossed the morsel into his mouth and Krunzle heard it crunch between the wide molars. Skanderbrog chewed, it seemed to the traveler, quite thoughtfully for a troll, his gaze moving across the crowd of slaves ranged over the flat and inclined surfaces of the scaffolding. He focused most clearly, however, on Mordach the mage, who had come down from above, along with a crew of torch-bearing men from Boss Ulm's cadre of enforcers.
While Skanderbrog made short work of the rest of Chenax, spitting out a metal belt buckle before swallowing the last of his meal, the men formed a double line of fire across the ledge between the troll and any possibility of his escape up or down the trestle-work. Mordach took up a position behind the twin rows of lit torches, raised his hands skyward, so that his sleeves fell back from his stick-thin arms, and shouted several harsh syllables.
The troll reacted as if he had experienced a sudden toothache. He shook his head, spittle flying from his black lips and prominent bottom tusks, and got to his feet. The look he gave the mage and the torchmen would have rendered Krunzle in instant need of a toilet, preferably one behind a locked and troll-proof door, but the men did not flinch. One or two of them even jeered and made rude noises with their tongues and lips.
Skanderbrog took only three steps, then paused where a sheet of canvas covered something against the gouged rock of the cliff face. He bent and threw back the heavy fabric as if it were the lightest cloth; beneath were his hammer and chisel. Mordach sent another string of syllables his way, and the young troll took up the tools and faced the rock. He set the chisel's edge into a crack, drew back the hammer, and slammed it forward. The collision gave off an almost musical chink, and a chunk of rock separated from the cliff and fell at Skanderbrog's feet. He swiveled, stooped, and bashed the hammer against the lump of stone, smashing it into fragments. Then he turned, straightened, put the chisel back against the wall, and repeated the process.
The torchmen parted enough for Mordach to step through to the fore. The troll eyed him askance but continued to cut rock from the cliff face and reduce it to smaller pieces. The mage's arm moved in a sweeping motion aimed at the ledge, and a rune carved into the nail of his index finger glowed with a light that made Krunzle's eyes ache, even at a distance. A smoking line appeared on the floor of the ledge just short of the growing pile of rock fragments. The troll paused in his work, sniffed at the air above the line, and growled. Then he went back to work.
Mordach and the torch-bearers departed, climbing the scaffolding's steps back up to the town, though not before the wizard favored Krunzle with a considering gaze. When the steps were cleared, the overseers hurried the slaves to form two parallel lines from the ledge up to the top of the gorge. Baskets were passed down from above until every man had one. The thief and his minder were pressed into line, becoming two links in what would become a continuous double chain to move baskets up and down the scaffolding.
Now a slave with a long-handled iron rake stepped up to Skanderbrog's growing pile of broken stone. Gingerly, the man extended the tool and pulled some rock across the line, which had now ceased to smoke but remained plain on the ledge's surface. As the rake's heavy tines grated on the stone, the troll paused in his labors and turned his head slightly toward the sound. Immediately, another slave, whose only function appeared to be to watch Skanderbrog, hissed a warning. The rake man stepped back. But the troll only growled again, then with a grunt, swung the hammer against the chisel head. The first man in the basket chain scooped rock into his basket then passed it to the slave beside him, who passed it in turn to the next man.
And so went the morning. For the first hour, Krunzle was in the upward-moving chain, taking a loaded basket from his left and passing it to his right. It took about half a minute for a basket to be loaded with Skanderbrog's output, so that every thirty seconds he had to bear a load for a few moments. At first, it wasn't hard, but as the minutes piled up, his shoulders and lower back began to ache, and his forearms to cramp. Raimeau was opposite him in the second chain, passing empty baskets downward to where the troll kept making fresh material for them to shift.
After an hour, a whistle blew and the two chains changed jobs. Krunzle welcomed the relief. But all too soon, it seemed, the whistle sounded again, and he was back to the hard life. By now the sun was well up, and the rock face caught and reflected its heat. Sweat ran down the thief's face and chest, soaked his shirt to his back, made his eyes sting with its salt. He reminded himself that he had sworn never to engage in brute labor—a vow he had seldom broken, and then only at the order of a magistrate who could command guardsmen with whips and truncheons to enforce their sentences.
The whistle blew again, and Krunzle was back to passing empty panniers. "Do we get lunch?" he said to Raimeau, working opposite him.
"More gruel," was the answer. The man next to Raimeau made a face. "Sometimes with a cat or a few rats in it."
Krunzle grunted. It was time to find a new occupation. But he was surprised at the idea that emerged from the back of his mind—until he realized that the thought had not been his, but Chirk's.
Are you insane? he thought back at the snake. Even here I am too close to the troll.
But the thought formed: after lunch, the snake wanted him to take the place of the man with the rake.
Why? But in a moment, he knew the reason. Chirk wanted to have a conversation with Skanderbrog. You are insane, Krunzle thought. No one ever benefited from a conversation with a troll, unless it was the troll—a little diversion before dinner.
The word formed in his mind: Nonetheless.
No, returned the thief, and that is final.
But it wasn't. Chirk showed him pictures: Mordach the Prudent dissolving the thief in a vat of acid, then draining it away to retrieve the unharmed bronze serpent from among his smoldering bones; Mordach sliding Krunzle into a blue-flamed furnace, then raking through the ashes for the again-unharmed Chirk; Mordach coating the traveler with a sticky, sweet syrup and staking him down between two great anthills, returning later to—
Enough! said Krunzle. He will do one of these things?
A moment later he knew that Mordach was delayed only because he had not yet decided which of these methodologies would create a maximum reduction of Krunzle with a minimum effect upon the object around his neck. The mage was known, after all, as "the Prudent."
∗ ∗ ∗
Lunch was gruel and rotten pumpkin. Krunzle found a few flakes of gray meat in his, and swallowed them without comment. The work had given him an appetite as well as an acute awareness of several muscle groups that he had always taken for granted. He cataloged his aches and pains and swore to himself that Boss Ulm would one day render up an accounting for each and every one of them.
While they were eating, Mordach the Prudent returned and, with the torchmen to shield him, renewed the strength of the boundary spell he had cast that morning. Then he went back to town, throwing Krunzle a considering gaze as he passed.
The whistle blew and the thief said to Raimeau, "Come, and quickly." They descended the rough wooden steps as lightly as could be allowed by Krunzle's ill-fitting shoes and the prospect of plunging to a deadly battering on the rocks below. By the time the basket lines were reformed, he was standing near the mage's deadline—still visible, though no longer smoldering—with the rake in hand. Raimeau was beside him, wearing a look of deep uncertainty when he wasn't casting fearful sideways glances at the troll, the monster sitting with his back against the wall, glowering at them and the rest of the uncooperative world.
The man who had used the rake before said, "Give me that." To add emphasis, he scooped up a fist-sized rock and cocked his arm.
But it seemed to the traveler that the man did not have the full conviction that the implied threat required. Chirk? he thought.
Instead of an answer from the recesses of his mind, Krunzle saw the man lower his arm. The chunk of rock rattled among others in a basket, and the fellow—and his assistant, though not without a muttered threat to Raimeau—joined the basket chain.
The gray-haired man was regarding the thief with even more trepidation than when they had first met. "What?" said Krunzle, turning to where Skanderbrog was levering himself to his splay-toed feet and taking up his tools again.
"You don't know?" said Raimeau, keeping his voice low.
"Assume I don't." Krunzle raked a pile of rock toward the man whose job it was to fill the baskets.
"The snake," his partner whispered. "It glowed, kind of purple, but when you look at it too long black spots start floating before your eyes. It did that when Chenax tried to take it."
"Oh, that," said Krunzle, "of course. I'm familiar with the effect."
"Get to work!" The shout came from above, where one of Ulm's bullyboys was pushing his way down the steps between the lines of basketmen, and reaching for a whip coiled at his belt. Krunzle turned and began to rake rock.
Skanderbrog hacked at the cliff face as if it were his direst enemy. The muscles of his shoulders and arms bulged and flexed as he swung the hammer that seemed to weigh no more than a switch of willow. Raimeau watched the troll closely, speaking a warning whenever the creature gave over attacking the wall of rock and turned to smash the boulders at his feet into pebbles. For that phase of the operations, the thief and his helper stood well back.
Even so, a flying shard opened Krunzle's cheek. He felt the sting, then a warm trickle making its way down through the dust on his face. The troll looked up from his work, snuffling, his nostrils dilated. He stared at Krunzle, and for a few seconds the traveler knew what it was to be a rabbit undergoing inspection by a fox. Though he was well beyond the mage's line, still he took a step backward.
As he did so, words formed in the back of his mind. He pushed them back where they had come from, saying, I don't think so. One of my longstanding rules is not to draw the attention of man-eating monsters. It has served me well so far and—
A jolt of pain shot up from the base of Krunzle's spine to rattle his skull. He felt an even larger one forming where the first had begun, like a thundercloud boiling up on the horizon.
Well, if you insist, he thought. Ideas began to form in his mind, a strategy for gaining the troll's cooperation. Krunzle watched the sequence of thoughts unravel, then said, in his inner voice, No.
A jolt of pain shot up from his spine again. He spasmed, hissing, so that Raimeau looked at him in alarm. The thief ignored the man and the troll, which had also glanced his way, and said to Chirk, I did not say ‘no' to the project, but only to your approach.
He was surprised to hear a voice, soft and sibilant, speak in his head. It makes sense, came the reply. The creature must hate Ulm and Mordach. A chance to take revenge—
Krunzle cut off the voice. You are collecting crumbs, ignoring the cake.
How so?
Let me show you. He received no response and took the silence for acquiescence. Aloud, he spoke to the troll in a carrying whisper: "Skanderbrog! Do you enjoy your work?"
The creature was back at work on the rock face. Krunzle saw it regarding him from the corner of one eye while the hammer and chisel continued to gouge out chunks of gold-bearing ore. Over the clink of iron on iron, he heard a deep-throated growl. "You mock me?" Skanderbrog said.
"Don't mock him," said Raimeau. A full-body shiver had taken possession of Krunzle's helper. "He doesn't like being mocked."
"I cannot pass the line," said the troll, "but these can." He nudged the pile of broken rocks with the end of the chisel.
"It's true," said Raimeau. "Boss Ulm had a half-orc overseer named Horkak who used to stand just clear of Mordach's line. He would mimic Skanderbrog's labors and make uncomplimentary comparisons. One day, the troll picked up a piece of ore and threw it at him. The boundary spell heated the stone so greatly that it exploded in Horkak's face. He fell into the gorge and broke on the rocks."
"Horkak tasted bad," Skanderbrog said. "Too much gristle." He turned his head to look Krunzle up and down. "You will be more tender."
The thief would have gladly ended the conversation at that point, but Chirk was insistent. "I do not mock," Krunzle said. "I wondered if you had had enough of working for Boss Ulm. If you might want to move on."
Skanderbrog addressed himself to the rock face. "I do not like to work," he said. "But before I was captured, I starved. I ate frogs and dug for worms. I tried to make a place for myself in a cave on the edge of Grunchum's territory, but he drove me away. The same happened when I went into the land of his neighbor, Brugga. Here, at least I eat well and do not sleep on wet leaves."
Krunzle smiled to himself as he raked the cracked ore toward the men who filled the baskets. "Still," he said, "it's no life for a promising young troll."
The hammer rang on the chisel. Another great wedge of rock fell at Skanderbrog's feet. "It is true; I am not content," he said. "But I am resigned to my fate."
Krunzle let a few moments pass, then he said, "What kind of weapon does Grunchum wield? Or Brugga?"
Skanderbrog turned to smash the wedge of gray stone. He cocked his head, remembering. "They are traditionalists," he said, "and favor the long cudgel. They are not particularly adept, but they make up for it in sheer power."
"Do they eat well? As well as you have been eating this past little while?"
It was obviously not a question that had occurred to the troll, if indeed questions ever did. "Now that I think of it," Skanderbrog said, "probably not. The odd deer. Or a bear when they're still in winter sleep."
"And would either of them have developed the kind of muscles that now adorn your upper body?" Krunzle said.
Again, the troll took a long moment while the dull teeth of his mentality engaged the issue. "Grunchum was big-bellied, but his legs were spindly for a troll. Brugga looked as if he had had a good winter. But he's getting long in the tooth."
Krunzle nodded. "So would either of them expect to be confronted by a well-fed, hard-shouldered young challenger armed with an iron-headed hammer? Not to mention a sharp iron spike that he could throw like a spear?"
The troll paused, the hammer poised. He held the chisel out at arm's length and studied it. "I would have to think about that," he said. He set the iron spike into a crevice, and brought the hammer down. Splinters of rock flew.
"You might also think," Krunzle said, "about how comfortable a territory an enterprising troll might make by combining both Grunchum's and Brugga's. You did say they were neighbors?"
Skanderbrog had gone back to cutting more rock from the cliff. He did not answer, but his expression was as thoughtful as his kind could manage.
We'll let it cook for a while, Krunzle told Chirk.
Where did you learn about trolls? the snake said.
I know nothing about trolls in particular, said the traveler, but I know what it is to be young and seeking for a place in an uncooperative world. Don't you?
Chirk was a while in responding. My history, it said at length, is different from yours.
Yet we are both bound to another's service, aren't we?
The snake was even longer in giving an answer, so that the traveler thought he would receive none. Finally, he heard, You should know that I am not as easily gulled as a troll.
Coming Next Week: A brand new, standalone adventure featuring Krunzle!
Hugh Matthews is a pseudonym of critically acclaimed science-fantasy author Matthew Hughes, who is responsible for more than a dozen novels and is often called the "heir apparent" to the legacy of Jack Vance, particularly for his Archonate series. His novel Template was republished by Planet Stories.
The Top 8 for RPG Superstar have been announced and are advancing to Round 4, where our contestants will be creating a Golarion Location, Map and Encounter. The plot thickens, as they will also be playtesting these Encounters and using monsters from the Pathfinder Battles Heroes & Monsters miniatures. In this round, fan votes determine who advances to Round 5, in which the Top 4 will submit a Pathfinder Module adventure proposal. All finalist submissions, complete with judge and reader commentary, are posted to the paizo.com messageboards.
The Top 8 have until Friday, February 24 to complete their write up on their Location, Map and Encounter. On February 28, Paizo will reveal judge comments on all 8 submissions to the general public, who will then get to discuss the entries and vote for their favorites, as well as engage in the playtest. Voting starts on March 6 and ends March 12, and the Top 4 (by votes) will move on to Round 5.
The ultimate winner of RPG Superstar, announced April 3, 2012, will write a Pathfinder Module to be published in early 2013. The 2011 RPG Superstar champion module, Sam Zeitlin’s The Midnight Mirror, releases in April 2012.
Inappropriately Sized Firearms (Ultimate Combat, page 136): Does this allow a Medium or smaller creature to use larger firearms of any size?
The text of the rule is, "The size of a firearm never affects how many hands you need to use to shoot it." The intent of that rule was to prevent a Medium character from using a Small rifle as a one-handed pistol; it wasn’t intended to let a Medium character use a Large, Huge, Gargantuan, or Colossal two-handed firearm as a two-handed weapon. Just like with non-firearms, a creature cannot wield a weapon that’s far too big or small for it. Specifically in the case of firearms, a Medium character can’t use a two-handed firearm sized for a Large or larger creature, and a Small character can’t use a two-handed firearm sized for a Medium or larger creature.
Pounce (Bestiary, page 302): If have this ability, can I make iterative attacks with weapons as part of my full attack?
Any attack sequence you can perform as a full attack is allowed as part of the charge-pounce-full attack. For example, a barbarian with the greater beast totem rage power gains pounce universal monster ability and could make iterative attacks with manufactured weapons as part of her charge-pounce-full attack.
Spell Combat (Ultimate Magic, page 10): Can a magus use this ability with cantrips?
Yes. It is not limited to spells of level 1 or higher.
Rage Mutagen (Ultimate Combat, page 25): Is the Strength bonus for this archetype ability in addition to the normal bonus for a Strength mutagen?
No, the +6 replaces the normal +4 Strength bonus of the alchemist’s Strength mutagen. This will be clarified in a future printing of Ultimate Combat.
Page 25—In the Ragechemist archetype, in the Rage Mutagen class feature, change the first sentence to read as follows:
"At 2nd level, whenever a ragechemist creates a mutagen that improves his Strength, that mutagen’s bonus to Strength increases by +2 and penalizes the alchemist’s Intelligence score."
Last week, we announced the final batch of Season 3 Pathfinder Society scenarios, as well as the Season 4 scenarios debuting at Gen Con Indy in August. As of the writing of this blog, however, no one noticed the first signs of a slight change to the Pathfinder Society scenario release schedule that these scenarios represent. So, in honor of President's Day here in the U.S., let me illuminate you!
First, since PaizoCon 2012 will be taking place in the first week of July instead of the middle of June, we decided to delay the release of the June scenarios (#3–23 and #3–24) so that they debut at PaizoCon. Since these four scenarios will be out within a week of one another for their PaizoCon debut, they will serve as the traditional four June scenarios and will wrap up the Year of the Ruby Phoenix storyline and segue straight into Season 4's metaplot.
I know many people will notice that this means Season 3 has two fewer scenarios than anticipated. That observation is correct, but unavoidable. Convention season is incredibly taxing on the limited organized play staff we have here, and doing 10 scenarios and 2 mutli-table specials in less than three months simply proved too daunting a task, especially when the finish line (meaning release date) of each month's portion of those products was often at the start or middle of a month rather than the end, when our production schedule is designed to have new material available.
What this does mean, however, is that we're moving the release of Pathfinder Society scenarios from the last week of each month to the first week of each month beginning in September. So instead of waiting nearly two months between the four Gen Con scenarios and the two follow-up adventures in September, we'll have new material roughly every four weeks. That also means that our production schedule will be able to more easily handle the extra workload each summer, as our new material will already be ready for early July and August release.
So there's a peek at what's changing in the coming months, and we've got a few more things left to reveal before Season 4 kicks off, but it's still a good five months away, so we'll hold off for those. There's still a lot of Season 3 left, after all.
So far we’ve revealed plenty of monstrous menaces soon to appear on your game table as part of this summer’s new Rise of the Runelords Pathfinder Battles prepainted miniatures set. This week, we’ll bring things back to earth with a look at some familiar friends you just might recognize from the Pathfinder world.
Before I get into the new miniature reveals, I need to point out that we still don’t have all of the specifics about when exactly this set will come out, how much it will cost, or how many figures will be in each booster box, but things have been moving steadily forward on these fronts, and I expect to be able to reveal details shortly.
Until then, we wait. I hope to soothe the ennui by showing off more awesome miniatures from the set.
These miniatures support the Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path Anniversary Edition, which is scheduled for a July release. The images shown below are “paint masters,” meaning they are the painted miniatures our partners at WizKids send to their factories as guides for how the production run should be painted. Expect a little variance between these images and the final miniatures, but this is what they’ll be shooting for.
Because these are pre-production images, they’re also missing some of the fine detail work on things like tattoos, fine costume design details, and similar flourishes. These are added at the factory as a final step, so if it looks like Seoni is missing a few tattoos below, don’t despair! They’re coming soon!
Anyway, on to this week’s previews!
This uncommon figure represents Ameiko Kaijitsu, one of Pathfinder’s very first NPCs, and one who has grown to become an important figure in the Pathfinder world thanks to the events of the Jade Regent Adventure Path. Way back in the Rise of the Runelords AP, Ameiko was a simple owner of Sandpoint’s Rusty Dragon Inn, but she went on to become a very important figure whose destiny spans the globe of Golarion. She appears here kitted out in her adventuring gear, ready to help your player characters in either campaign.
The elf fighter/ranger Shalelu Andosana is older than the town of Sandpoint itself, but over the centuries she’s come to view the place as home. She makes an excellent ally and information source for the players in Rise of the Runelords, and her appearance in the Jade Regent Adventure Path means that this uncommon miniature, like Ameiko above, comes in doubly useful for Pathfinder GMs running both campaigns. Plus, female elf ranger with a bow = great miniature for lots and lots and lots of player characters.
So far we’ve managed to fit an iconic character or two into each of our Pathfinder Battles releases, and Rise of the Runelords is no exception. The first iconic in this set (an uncommon) is Harsk, the iconic ranger. I love the detail WizKids was able to achieve with Harsk’s face, and some of the detail on his outfit is absolutely amazing. Artists and sculptors always complain about Wayne Reynolds’s highly complex original art for Harsk, but we think WizKids did a great job capturing the detail and nuance of this popular character.
Speaking of popular iconic characters, they don’t come more popular than this lovely lass, the inimitable Seoni! Seoni made her debut on one of the covers of the original Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path issues, so we knew we had to include her in the set (at the uncommon rarity). And I’m thrilled that we did. WizKids definitely met the challenge with this figure. The picture above is pretty good, but in-hand this miniature is absolutely gorgeous, with a great color to it and lots of excellent sculpt details. Fans of Seoni might notice that her tattoos and some of the pattern on her outfit is missing. As I mentioned above, that stuff will be coming at the factory, and what we’ve seen so far looks terrific.
That’s it for this week! The Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path is a dangerous campaign, but these familiar faces will help you make it through alive, if not exactly unscathed!
We’re revealing the finished Round 4 rules on Friday. In the meantime, here’s a preview of the two twists we’re adding to the encounter round this year.
Twist #1: All creatures appearing in your encounter must be drawn from the miniatures in the Heroes & Monsters set of the Pathfinder Battles minis line!
Twist #2: The Round 4 entries are revealed on February 28, but voting doesn’t start until a week later because we’ve added a week for open playtesting of the encounters!
Voting closes on Monday, February 20th and the Top 8 winners are announced on Tuesday, February 21st. In the meantime, competitors should look over last year’s Round 4 rules and FAQ.
The hag or ogre wife or whatever she was stepped into the room, still looking like a sweet grandmother with her knitting bag and little spectacles. Then she saw the dead spider lying on the hearthrug.
She screamed in horror, rushing over. “You fiendish little pig! What have you done?” She picked up the corpse. “My baby! My poor precious one! Speak to me!”
Her knitting bag fell to the floor, Norret’s glove on top. While I was frozen with fear, my spirit wasn’t. It grabbed the glove and pulled it on.
The unicorn’s jewel shone on the back, glowing with ruby light.
But I wasn’t the only one using more hands than he rightfully should. “Oh no, none of that,” snapped Madame Eglantine. Just like she sometimes seemed to have more eyes, she now definitely had more arms. While two were cradling the dead spider, two more appeared and wove a magic pattern in the air. Then I was looking at not one Madame Eglantine but five, each as monstrous as the last.
I swung the poker at the nearest one and she shattered like a soap bubble. The rest laughed mockingly like a chorus of schoolgirls. My spirit swung at another. The glove’s jewel blazed with light as that illusion vanished as well.
“What are you, you horrid brat?” snarled the three remaining Eglantines. “A sorcerer? An oracle? Some halfling wizard masquerading as a child?”
I swung again, but missed. “I’m the one who’s going to stop you, you cannibal witch!”
A ghostly wind began to blow. The cobwebs fluttered and another bell jar toppled from the mantel, its head bowling across the floor.
“Oh, I’m not the cannibal,” laughed Madame Eglantine. “I have never eaten my own kind. All my husbands were human, and while I ate every last one after he violated my private sanctum, the only true cannibal here is you...”
As she said this, she became fatter and squatter, her body becoming more hunched and spidery, until all that was left was a garden spider the size of a woman, a cross-shaped marking on her back big enough to protect a wedding cake from a whole troop of dancing pixies. It was the mother of the horrible little spider I’d killed, mirrored three times, moving around one another like walnut shells shuffled by a charlatan hiding a pea.
I screamed and ran at them, hitting one with the poker while my spirit swung at another. The illusion before me popped on contact with the iron bar, but my spirit felt the glove slap the spider’s flesh, burning it, antitoxin meeting toxin.
Madame Eglantine hissed and reared. Then the sound of ladylike laughter issued from her horrible spidery maw and webbing shot from her abdomen, a great net like you’d throw to snare songbirds for a pie, thick and sticky as bird lime.
It covered me and I was stuck fast, both me and the fireplace poker, her web pulling taut against the walls as it dried. But my spirit’s hand was still free and I slapped at her again with the glove.
The last illusion vanished with a flare of ruby light. Then the spider shifted back to the form of the spider-armed woman. She reached into her bag and drew forth one of her knitting needles, ebony capped with silver. She waved it about like a wand, weaving magical patterns in the air and clicking her tongue like a Mwangi witch out of a story. A gray ray shot from the tip, hitting the glove.
The light of the unicorn’s jewel died, the spider woman smothering its good Galtan magic with her evil foreign spell. I felt my soul’s hand slapped back as the glove fell to the floor.
She picked the glove up with the tip of her knitting needle as if it were a dead rat. “Just what are you?” She flipped the glove into her knitting bag, stuffing it down to the bottom with the wand. “I’m curious to find out...”
She shifted back to the form of the giant spider. Then she crawled over me, her huge bloated mass avoiding the sticky strands the web. She leaned close, her horrible fangs dripping venom, and bit me.
I felt pain, and then nothing, the poison numbing, putting my limbs to sleep and freezing them, like when you wake from a nightmare but still can’t move.
But the nightmare was not over. The spider woman tenderly, carefully, bit through the strands holding me on the left and the right. She freed the fireplace poker and threw it to the floor. Then she put her claws on me and began to spin me, like a woman twirls a drop spindle. Webbing flew from her abdomen, smooth and soft as silk, wrapping around me, cocooning me as she had Norret.
At last she stopped spinning me. I was terribly dizzy, but my eyes focused as she turned back into a woman. But not all the way. She still had eight eyes and six arms. Then the most horrible thing—her bottommost pair of arms reached into her bag, pulled out a half-finished stocking, and began to knit as if nothing were odd at all.
“Now what are we going to do with you, Orlin?” she mused. “You’re a bit young for husband material, though your brother’s comely enough, if a trifle thin.” She poked Norret’s middle with one long-fingered hand. “Yes, too thin for my tastes. But I’ll plump him up once I have the right charms brewed...”
She picked up the two heads tumbled on the floor, placing them back on the mantel. Norret moaned. Madame Eglantine paid no mind. She looked into her bag and selected a different knitting needle. She mumbled a charm and waved it over a pile of broken glass. Half the pieces flew up and reformed into a bell jar. She repeated the charm and the other was restored as well.
Norret opened his eyes halfway and saw me. “Orlin...” he whispered. “Her bag... bottle... spiderbane...”
He was delirious, but my body was paralyzed by poison, and my spirit as well. A fine time for it to be properly tethered to my body.
But I was not the only spirit about. While I couldn’t feel my jaw, I could sense it opening. “Rhodel...” I croaked.
"Galt’s people don’t take kindly to monsters in their midst."
Madame Eglantine fussed with her dead husbands’ hair and so didn’t see the knitting bag behind her tip on its side. One by one the balls of yarn rolled out, as if an invisible kitten were investigating them. She replaced one of the jars as Norret’s glove appeared, the unicorn’s jewel still dead from the spell. Then as the second jar was being replaced, a crystal flask rolled free. Pretty and faceted, it was a treasure that once belonged to the duchess of Dabril. It was filled with a golden liquid.
“There, much better.” Madame Eglantine looked at her husbands’ heads, now back in their places. Then she looked mournfully at the dead spider. “Poor little dear. I’ll have to put her in the garden and plant a fruit tree. Maybe a sour cherry.” She turned. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
Then she saw the bottle floating up.
She dropped both the dead spider and the half-finished sock as she sprang forward, grabbing the flask with all her hands before Rhodel could work the stopper free.
“Oh, tricky,” she said admiringly. “Very tricky. But not tricky enough. Your brother said this held my doom, but he talks too much. I got the jump on him, and the same with you, Orlin. But I do wonder what it is. A poison for spiders, perhaps? Maybe some grand mithridate like the glove, or an antivenin to sour my venom in its sacks? I suppose I—”
A girl appeared next to her, a beautiful young woman dressed in the livery of a page of House Devore.
“Who are you?” asked Madame Eglantine, shocked.
“Death,” replied Rhodel. She ripped the bottle from the spider woman’s hands with the strength only the dead could possess and pulled the stopper free. “Never trouble a child of Dabril!” She threw the contents into the witch’s face.
Rhodel disappeared, the empty bottle and stopper clattering to the floor as Madame Eglantine screamed, clawing her eight eyes with all six hands. Then she stopped screaming as the room became filled with the overwhelming scent of honeysuckle.
“Perfume?” Madame Eglantine gasped. “Perfume? That’s all you have?” She exploded into gales of laughter. “Oh, that’s rich! That’s the cream of the jest! Two riddles solved for the price of one! You, my child, are nothing more than a baby bone oracle! And your brother? Not even an alchemist! A mere puffer who thought to bluff me with a bottle of perfume!”
With that, the windows began to spring open, one by one, the cobwebs ripping free as Rhodel let in the fresh air of the garden outside.
The fresh air—and the wasps and bees from the garlands of eglantine that hung about the house.
Madame Eglantine screamed as the insects swarmed her, stinging her as she shifted into her monstrous spider form. She sprayed webbing as quickly as a magician conjures scarves, but still more came, drawn by the pure scent of honeysuckle absolute.
Then came a droning buzz loud enough to be a roar. Bumblebees the size of lapdogs and wasps the size of small ponies came through the windows, the pets of Calistria, goddess of trickery and vengeance.
The spider woman played her own tricks, multiplying her form with one illusion, turning herself invisible with another. But the swarm was too great for the decoys to last, and the scent of Norret’s perfume unerringly guided the wasps to their prey. Madame Eglantine was stung again and again, until at last she was as paralyzed as Norret and I, trapped as a bloated spider with a woman’s head.
It was then that the wasps did as they always do when they win a battle: They returned to their nest with their prey, as well as the bodies of their fallen comrades—for to a wasp, meat is meat—and any other meat they can find.
The corpse on the table was carried off. The heads of Madame Eglantine’s husbands as well. Even the slab of half-smoked man-bacon from the hook at the back of the hob.
Lastly, the wasps looked at Norret and myself, still paralyzed and caught in the spider’s webs. They bit us free, picked us up in their claws, and carried us back to the nest as well.
Meat is meat, after all.
∗∗∗
Fortunately for us, their nest was the temple of Calistria, and Mistress Philomela knew us.
We were cut free from the webs with Calistrian daggers, had the poison neutralized with one spell and our wounds healed with another.
There was no balm for the horrors I’d seen save holding my brother’s hand. I knew he must have seen worse during the wars, and I understood why he had to bring me back.
Family is worth more than any gold, even if you come back wrong.
“Gingerbread?” offered Mistress Philomela. We were back on her balcony, sitting beside each other on the yellow divan. She held out a plate. On it were three gilded figures: a wasp, a dagger, and a beautiful elven woman.
I took the dagger. I didn’t want to have anything to do with cannibalism, even in the form of gingerbread.
Norret must have felt the same, since he took the wasp.
Mistress Philomela took the one in the shape of her goddess and delicately nibbled her ear. “The only thing sweeter than the cakes of Calistria is the taste of revenge.”
A great cry of exultation came up from the crowd. Rather than a load of fresh prisoners being delivered by tumbrel cart, there was only one late arrival, but arriving in style: a gilded, magical chariot borne by giant wasps hove into view, driven by one of the priests of Calistria, dressed in a golden loincloth that left little to the imagination, especially when it flapped aside. But hanging from the back of the chariot was what truly captured the interest of the crowd: a horrible monster, half woman, half spider, paralyzed by wasp venom, a look of terror on her eight-eyed face because she knew what her fate would be.
The priest did three laps of the street, to greater cries of bloodlust each time, until at last the Gray Gardener on the guillotine’s platform signaled for him to land. He did.
There was then the usual dry speech about the values of Liberty and the enemies of the people, as well as the thanks of the people for those who’d apprehended the enemies of the Revolution, especially fiends and monsters. It was then that I realized I was supposed to stand.
Norret squeezed my hand and I stood next to him. Mistress Philomela stepped aside and applauded us and the rest of the crowd below followed suit. I also realized I was still holding the barely nibbled gingerbread dagger. I raised it over my head. “Victory!” I cried.
“Liberty! Equality! Fraternity!” responded the crowd.
“Vengeance,” added Mistress Philomela with an amused smile.
The execution of Madame Eglantine was very much like any other. Madame Margaery’s blade was hoisted up. Madame Margaery’s blade came down. A woman’s head bounced into the basket. A giant spider’s body lay on the stage. The crowd cheered, all except a group of women in the front row who for once stopped their knitting, looking at the head in the basket, then at each other with expressions of mute horror. The Gray Gardener standing on the stage looked down at them with his gray mask.
You know he was thinking exactly what they were thinking.
There would be questions for Madame Eglantine’s head. Questions for the heads of her husbands. Questions for myself and Norret.
I already knew my answers. We had rehearsed them before.
We were two brothers from Dabril. My brother was a veteran who had returned from the war. My father and brother had died, so my mother remarried, and my brother had taken me with him to be his apprentice when he returned to the capital. Any peculiarities about me were likely just a bit of sorcery unlocked when I was ill. Nothing more.
Norret squeezed my hand. I looked at him. He smiled and bit off the wings of his gingerbread wasp. I smiled back.
Mistress Philomela was wrong. Revenge was sweet, but the sweetest thing was fraternity—having a brother there for you.
Coming Next Week: A sample chapter from Hugh Matthews’ upcoming Pathfinder Tales novel, Song of the Serpent, plus a fantastic new illustration from Eric Belisle!
Kevin Andrew Murphy is the author of numerous stories, poems, and novels, as well as a writer for Wild Cards, George R. R. Martin's shared-world anthology line. His previous Pathfinder Tales stories include "The Secret of the Rose and Glove" (also starring Norret) and "The Fifth River Freedom," the fourth chapter of Prodigal Sons in the Kingmaker Pathfinder's Journal. For more information, visit his website.
Our Top 16 contestants have submitted their Round 3 CR 7 monsters! These round three submissions have been revealed to the general public with judges’ comments. Discuss the entries and vote for your favorite! Voting ends on February 20 and the Top 8 by votes will move on to Round 4. You can change your mind anytime until voting closes Monday, February 20 at 2 p.m. Pacific time.
The ultimate winner of RPG Superstar, announced April 3, 2012, will write a Pathfinder Module to be published in early 2013. The 2011 RPG Superstar champion module, Sam Zeitlin’s The Midnight Mirror, releases in April 2012.
Last week’s FAQ blog was so popular, we made a sequel!
In a world where FAQs run rampant...
What does “with” in the Special line for the Feral Combat Training feat (Ultimate Combat, page 101) mean for monks making a flurry of blows?
Normally a monk who has natural attacks (such as a lizardfolk monk with claw attacks) cannot use those natural attacks as part of a flurry of blows (Core Rulebook 57). Feral Combat Training allows you to use the selected natural attack as if it were a monk weapon—you can use it as one of your flurry of blows attacks, use it to deploy special attacks that require you to use a monk weapon, apply the effects of the natural weapon (such as a poisonous bite) for each flurry of blows attack, and so on.
The feat does not allow you to make your normal flurry of blows attack sequence plus one or more natural attacks with the natural weapon. In other words, if you can flurry for four attacks per round, with this feat you still only make four attacks per round... but any number of those attacks may be with the selected natural weapon.
Can I use Cleave (Core Rulebook, page 119) or Great Cleave (page 124) to cleave to or from an image created by a mirror image spell (page 315)?
No. If your initial attack hit the caster, you can’t cleave to an image as if it were an actual creature. If your initial attack hit an image, you failed to hit your intended target (the caster), and therefore can’t cleave. As you can’t specifically target an image (because you can’t tell the images from the actual caster), you likewise can’t aim for an image and try to cleave to another image.
Can I use magic missile (Core Rulebook, page 309) to destroy one or more images from a mirror image spell (page 315)?
No. Magic missile targets a creature and does not require an attack roll, so it bypasses all the images and always hits the caster.
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