Gen Con Memories

Friday, July 29, 2011

I attended my first gaming convention in 1995. Home for a summer between college semesters and with my regular high-school D&D game done and buried thanks to all of the players attending school in different states, I was aching to throw some dice, kill some monsters, and take their stuff. So I headed over to the Thunderbird Hotel in Bloomington, Minnesota and entered a whole new world of public gaming.

At Twin Con I played my first session of Living City, the original shared-world RPG campaign, and met a lot of local gamers who shared my gaming interests. I won a contest for a unique dagger designed by a local artisan, with LC stats to boot, and played a ripping game of Circus Imperium ("Whip the beast! Whip the beast!"). Most importantly, I picked up a sign-up form for Gen Con, and within a week of Twin Con I was registered for the biggest and best American gaming convention of them all.

I'd long wanted to attend this gaming Mecca (then held, naturally, at Milwaukee's MECCA Convention Center) thanks to previews and coverage in Dragon Magazine and Polyhedron, the official newszine of the RPGA Network that brought me the Living City campaign I'd so enjoyed at Twin Con. I knew that all the big gaming companies timed their major releases for the show, and that it attracted tens of thousands of "alpha gamers" from all over the world to play all sorts of games, shop in the cavernous exhibit hall, and learn from game professionals in panels and seminars. But until 1995, I'd never managed to have the right combination of time, money, and transportation to make my dream of hitting Gen Con a reality.

Flush with exciting stories of my fun time at Twin Con, I managed to convince a small gaggle of my local gamer buddies to accompany me on the road trip to Milwaukee. I recruited these guys from my old high-school-era gaming circles, and while none of them were as rabid as I was about gaming, they agreed to come with me and help split the cost of the hotel room.

That first Gen Con was a marvel. Until you've been to the show you can't really imagine how impressive it is to see 30,000+ gamers take over the downtown core of a major city. You have no idea what it's like to stand in an enormous dealer room filled with just about every gaming company you can think of, with booths staffed by some of the same names you usually see on book covers. It was an amazing experience, and one I swore almost instantly to repeat on an annual basis.

That's me on the right, manning the original Paizo "booth" with Dungeon editor Chris Thomasson.

For whatever reason, though, my buddies were not quite so enthusiastic, and so when the time came to sign up for Gen Con 1996, I couldn't convince any of my old gaming friends to come with me. Slowly but surely, by attending several local Living City events, I was developing a new cadre of gaming buddies, but only a year after I first got involved with LC, none of those relationships had gelled to the point where I felt comfortable sharing a hotel room with those guys. So I did the unthinkable, and decided to head out to Gen Con all by myself.

Even though it was my second Gen Con, 1996 feels like my first when I think back on it, because I felt like such a fish out of water that year. Without the companionship of pals to take in the convention with me, I ended up setting my own schedule and doing the things that I wanted to do, exclusively. And around then that meant haunting the various TSR seminars (especially when they had to do with my beloved World of Greyhawk campaign setting), playing a ton of RPGA events, and scouring the dealer hall for out-of-print AD&D modules I'd somehow missed the first time around. It was enormously fun, but I went into it quite nervous. It's hard to feel lonely among 30,000 fellow gamers, but with no hotel roommates and no friends to share the experience, I was worried that I wouldn't have any fun at all. I felt more like an isolated newbie than I ever had that first year.

I needn't have worried. I was far, far too busy to ever feel lonely. Within the first day I'd met up with the local RPGA'ers, and the convention's relentless programming had me seated at game tables around the clock. A funny thing happened at those game tables. I started recognizing gamers from the previous year, and they started recognizing me. The next year, 1997, I split a room in the vaunted (and, let's face it, probably haunted) Hotel Wisconsin with 11 other RPGA fanatics, some from my native Minneapolis and some from all over the country. I began to travel with these new friends, hitting game days and cons in Iowa, Wisconsin, Michigan, Ohio, and even Florida. Far from being alone, as I'd feared the previous year, I was developing a huge network of hard-core gaming buddies all over the country.

Here I am about two years later. I can't recall what year this was, but I'm certain it was the last time I did Gen Con in a T-shirt...

At Gen Cons between 1996 and 1998, my questions at various TSR seminars (along with, I must admit, a ton of critical commentary on the old TSR area on America Online) brought me to the attention of a few D&D contributors, who soon hired me on as a freelance continuity consultant for Greyhawk and Planescape projects. That work brought me to the attention of Wizards of the Coast's Lisa Stevens, who hired me for real in 1999 to join the RPGA staff as editor of Polyhedron and the head honcho of the network's Living Greyhawk campaign, which was to coincide with the launch of third edition Dungeons & Dragons in 2000.

Gen Con 1999, my fifth consecutive appearance, was the first time I attended the show as a gaming professional. The following year I launched Living Greyhawk and helped manage the RPGA's presence at the show, which dominated a massive arena complete with stadium seating and poorly lit subterranean passages. A lot of the volunteer coordinators of the Living Greyhawk campaign turned out to be guys I'd played RPGA games with those first couple of years, solidifying friendships with gamers who had been strangers only a few short years before.

By 2002, I'd been transferred from the RPGA to the periodicals division of Wizards of the Coast, which was spun off to form Paizo Publishing. This gave me a whole new Gen Con experience—helping to run a dealer hall booth for what amounted to a tiny, start-up company. "Booth" is probably too bold a word, as the first Paizo booth was really just a small table with a few posters taped to the wall of the D&D castle mega-booth.

Here I am the last year in Milwaukee with Eric Noah of EN World fame.

Since 2002, I've been one of the few constants of Paizo's presence at Gen Con. Most of the original Paizonians have moved on to other career opportunities, but I'm still around, standing behind a decidedly larger booth, with a decidedly larger set of responsibilities as publisher than I had as the lowly magazine section editor of 2002.

And here I am, about to head out for my 17th consecutive Gen Con, and my mood couldn't be further from the trepidation of 1996, when I attended the convention alone. Because with nearly 20 years of the convention behind me, I now understand that a gamer can never be truly alone at Gen Con. Each annual convention is a chance to reacquaint myself with old friends and make a ton of new ones. Where once I worried that not a single person there knew who I was, these days I can barely walk from my hotel to the Paizo booth in less than an hour, because I end up running into so many old friends.

If you've never been to Gen Con, or if this is your very first year to attend and you're a bit nervous about what's in store, take if from me. You needn't worry. Gen Con has a way of making gamers feel right at home, and once you've attended one time, you'll have so much fun that your biggest concern coming out of the show will be how you're going to manage to attend next year.

And when you do come back, swing by the Paizo booth and say hi. I'll be there, eager to meet you.

Erik Mona
St. Petersburg, Russia

Meet the Iconics: Lirianne

Thursday, July 28th, 2011

Lirianne is the iconic character for the gunslinger class from Ultimate Combat. To read the story for Hayato, the iconic samurai—another class featured in Ultimate Combat—click here.

Shieldmarshal Dahmok's greatest failing was teaching his middle daughter to read. After the loss of their mother, a lively but capricious elven explorer who viewed ten years and three children as a "fling," he had hoped to rear homebody children. Even with their halfblood status stretching the years he spent with his treasured children, the old marshal shuddered at the knowledge that one was already slipping away.

	Illustration by Wayne Reynolds

While older Suzeressa took to the practical household arts and younger Milliceene pursued a love of natural sciences, middle-born Lirianne lost herself for hours at a time in tales of shining knights, devious fairies, and mighty dragons—all subjects absent from her homeland of Alkenstar. Raised among bricks, smoke, and bureaucracy, the young half-elf dreamed of the life of adventure and fantasy promised by the collection of fairy tales left by her absent mother and her own ever-growing library of penny dreadfuls. Naturally, she aspired to follow in her father's footsteps and become a shieldmarshal, protecting Alkenstar from the hostile giants and hideous mutations of the Mana Wastes. Preferring to keep his little girl safe at home, Dahmok calmly explained she could never become a shieldmarshal, running with the first excuse he could come up with—that her beloved long hair would become entangled in firearm mechanisms. To his surprise, he awoke the next morning to discover Lirianne grinning like a fool, with her long tresses roughly chopped, eagerly packed and ready to follow him to work.

For twenty years, the little half-elf pushed herself to meet ever more insane requirements laid down by her aging father. Schoolmates nicknamed her "the Phantom" as she vanished often to practice her quick draw or memorize technical volumes. Tutors and governesses thought her adle-brained as she sat staring, redrawing engineer's schematics in her mind rather than follow her lessons. Even before she was old enough to entertain her first romance, she had mastered the construction and firing of a rifle, and could reckon complex trajectories by eye alone.

An old man and long since retired by the time his daughter reached womanhood, Dahmok could no longer forbid her entry into the shieldmarshals. But the old patriot's influence lived on in his successors, and to honor his service they assigned Lirianne to a quiet domestic position, safeguarding farming settlements along the secure Alkenstar-Martel road. Ten years of her life passed rounding up drunks and mediating water rights, eating away at her passion for adventure in ways her father's disapproval never could. Her childhood dreams eventually forgotten, Lirianne's steely eyes dulled with the tarnish of a thousand mundane details.

It was kismet when a storm of wild magic blew off the Spellscar Desert, past Alkenstar, and into her jurisdiction. The rampant arcane energy, fallout from centuries of wizard warfare, warped space and time around it. The magical swells lashed out, reshaping hillsides, boiling sand into glass, and calling forth bizarre creatures from the dawn of history. The only marshal at hand, Lirianne leapt into service. As townsfolk huddled in their cellars and buildings crumbled into twisted forms of misbegotten wood and bone, a bolt of green lightning lashed out, striking the half-elf even as she confronted the storm's abominations.

Lirianne awoke soaking and half-drowned on distant shores. The bizarre country was flush with thick forests and green hills—plant life like she'd never seen. Wandering inland, she soon encountered a lumber caravan beset by malicious fey. In a heartbeat, a childhood's worth of stories welled up inside her, and she rushed into battle with a passion long since forgotten. The grateful caravan loaded her with all the supplies and information she could manage, confirming that her inexplicable odyssey had deposited her cleanly in the midst of those same shining knights, devious fairies, and mighty dragons who had occupied so much of her youth.

Now a wanderer in the strange land of Avistan, Lirianne struggles to balance her resurgence of childhood wonder and adult dedication to justice, all while confronting her long-ignored elven blood. While thoughts of family and the familiar industrial life of Alkenstar occasionally tug at her roaming heart, sights remain unseen and people remain unsaved, and Lirianne will be damned if she'll fail in either.

Crystal Frasier
Production Specialist

Master of Devils Sample Chapter

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

by Dave Gross

In Master of Devils, Dave Gross takes Pathfinder Venture-Captain Varian Jeggare and his hellspawn bodyguard Radovan into the distant land of Tian Xia in search of a magical pearl, where things quickly go awry. Trapped in the body of a devil, Radovan finds himself held hostage by the legendary Quivering Palm attack and fighting on behalf of a mysterious master.

Chapter Sixteen: Phoenix Warrior

The basilisk slithered through the streets of Khitai. Now and then it lunged, always at a child or a pretty girl who froze in place. The monster’s orange eyes bore down until its victim shrieked. Then it shook green and yellow scales out of its mane and danced away.

Children gathered the scale-shaped leaf wrappers and ate the sweet bean cakes inside. The eight-legged basilisk moved along to the next throng of children, its painted silk skin rippling at every turn. The bare feet of the men inside the monster slapped the pavement in time with the festival drums.

I was the opposite of the basilisk, a monster hidden beneath the silk cover of a man.

Even without Burning Cloud Devil’s magic, it was a good enough disguise. Unless someone got close, I could have been another of the big northern barbarians who’d come south looking for mercenary work. I was glad I’d picked up a black rice hat with a brim so low it had an eye slit in the front. I felt like a kid playing at knights in armor, but at least no one had run screaming when I came into town.

Burning Cloud Devil was still holed up at the inn. I’d wandered off to find a smith to repair my big knife. As an afterthought I asked him to make a new one just like it, only big enough for my devil hands. We negotiated until I got tired of pantomime. I showed him the big smile, and we had a deal.

The rest of the day I figured I’d take in the sights. There was no point telling Burning Cloud Devil where I was going. After our long journey back from the western mountains, and a hundred failed attempts to teach me his Quivering Palm technique, he said he needed to catch up on his sleep.

After the business with the Moon Blade Killer, we’d both had some rough nights. More than once I’d woken from nightmares of the boss writhing inside a dragon’s belly. Across the fire, Burning Cloud Devil twitched in his sleep, soaked with night sweat. I figured he dreamed of Spring Snow in the same damned place.

Despite the nightmares, I wasn’t buying his “need some sleep” excuse. He’d been wound up tight since I showed him the silver sword. He said he didn’t believe I’d seen Spring Snow, but I could tell it was gnawing at him. I’d seen it a thousand times before with the boss.

Burning Cloud Devil wasn’t slipping away to rest. He was off to get stinking drunk.

Weeks ago I’d figured out that most of the joints he called “tea houses” were really taverns. Let him drink, I figured. At least it spared me more lessons on clarifying my soul or maintaining the perfect nature of my body or some other airy stuff. When he wasn’t full of wine, he was full of bad poetry.

Since I’d seen her face, I had a hard time picturing Spring Snow with this guy. She struck me as a good kid, full of life at one time. She had to have been a lot more fun than he was. Burning Cloud Devil didn’t deserve someone like her.

The way I saw it, he was responsible for the deaths of the family back at the restaurant. Sure, it was me the Moon Blade Killer had come to kill, but Burning Cloud Devil knew it would happen. He’d tricked me into burying the wrestler’s head. He might as well have murdered those boys and their father himself.

Anyway, it had to be his fault. Otherwise, it was mine.

I couldn’t stand to think that.

Among the festival crowd, a woman dressed as a warrior caught my eye. Her golden scale armor glittered in the sun. She held one of those long-bladed glaives, sort of halfway between a spear and a sword. Where its grip met the blade twined a golden phoenix.

Something told me she hadn’t dressed up for the festival.

Most people in town hadn’t given me a second glance, but this woman stared in a way that made me think she could see through the brim of my hat. In other circumstances, I’d tip her a wink, but she was the one who threw me a fetching smile.

Normally, that’s all the encouragement I need. Instead of taking her up on the invitation, I walked away.

Until Burning Cloud Devil released my body, I was in no fit shape for a cuddle. And yeah, I knew that probably wasn’t what her smile meant, but it was what it made me think about.

Likely she wanted a whole different kind of trouble. Without Burning Cloud Devil around to slap me up with the fight whammy, there was nothing in it for me.

She called after me in Tien. “Face me, devil.”

I kept walking. A few steps later, a wave of nausea rolled through me. She’d thrown a spell on me.

I ran down a narrow lane between a block of townhouses and a spice shop. Waiting for me at the other end was a woman dressed identically to the first, except she held a scepter with a golden phoenix on its head. She looked exactly like the other woman.

Twins, of course.

Under other circumstances, I’d have been tickled. With their thick jaws and thin noses, they were no beauties, but they were all right. Later there’d be time to imagine the scenarios that could have been, assuming I survived this little tryst.

She pointed the scepter at me. Its wings began to move, its feathered breast glowing red.

I didn’t wait to see the result. I pulled a little juice from inside the core of my spirit and jumped from the ground to land on the roof of the spice shop.

No matter how many times I did that trick, “flying” never got old. Burning Cloud Devil said it came easily to me because of my abundant ki. Sometimes I wondered whether I’d still be able to do it when I got back to my regular body. It’d be a useful trick, not to mention one hell of a lot of fun.

My first step crunched through the roof tile. I weighed a lot more these days, so I stuck to running along the beam lines. A few more tiles clattered away behind me, but I made it to the other side without falling through. I leaped down onto the next lane, heard a cry, and looked around to see who I’d startled.

There was no one in the street except the armored woman. She lunged, twirled the glaive, and stepped back. I realized she’d already hit me only when the front of my rice hat fell off, revealing my face.

She gave me a smug smile and turned her blade so the reflected sunlight light dazzled me. I shaded my eyes until she turned the blade again, showing me the opposite side.

On the metal was etched a familiar symbol. I’d seen it in Minkai. It was the mark of Shizuru, goddess of ancestors and honor. This woman wasn’t just a warrior.

She was a paladin.

Her smile vanished as she advanced, whirling the long blade. I turned to run, but there she was on the other side, this time with the golden scepter.

“Xifeng.” The one with the scepter saluted her sister. “The honor of first attack is yours. Smite the evil beast!”

Xifeng returned the salute. “I thank you, Dongmei. I accept your charge and—”

“Listen, ladies, thanks all the same, but no smiting today. Despite my looks, I’m not actually evil.”

Hey, I’m entitled to my opinion.

“It says it is not evil,” said Dongmei, translating my devil-speech to Tien. Good for her, I thought. Know your enemy. Speak the language. Maybe we’ll have a drink later.

“Impossible,” said Xifeng. “I see its aura. It is a fiend from Hell.”

“Cheliax, actually,” I said. Dongmei’s face remained blank, so I did boat-on-the-wave with my hand. “Far across the sea, on the other side of the world.”

Dongmei showed me her palm, two fingers up, thumb nestled to the side. She said a few words in the language of angels, which I never learned because it’s got no decent curses. A pale golden circle formed around us. Motes of holy light danced in the alley like dust under a bright window.

“Say it again,” demanded Dongmei. “Tell us you are not truly evil.”

“I’m not— I’m actually a perfectly— The thing is—”

I couldn’t say the words. Her magic turned them to dust in my mouth.

“You condemn yourself!” cried Dongmei. “Not even a devil can tell a lie within the Circle of Truth.”

Xifeng’s slipper scuffed the ground behind me. Even in armor, the woman was quick. She damned near succeeded where the Moon Blade Killer failed. I moved just in time to make sure it was only the rest of my hat that fell onto the street.

I jumped back to the roof. Xifeng vaulted up behind me. I let her chase me across a couple more buildings while I searched for an escape route.

No dice. Dongmei had already cut me off, running up steps of air on the other side. I’d seen that trick before. It meant a god was listening to her prayers.

I was fighting both a paladin and a priest. If there’d ever before been a question of my going to Hell, it was answered now.

I tossed a handful of darts to keep her occupied. She covered her face with her arm, but the little blades glanced off an invisible barrier a few inches from her skin.

A crunch on the roof tiles warned me of Xifeng’s attack. To make sure I knew it was coming, she added a battle cry. “Shizuru, guide my hand!”

I leaped away. The roof exploded in yellow light inches away from me. Sharp tile fragments bit into my face and neck.

Xifeng’s battle cry was mighty.

I feinted a forward roll and swept her legs with a kick. Xifeng fell for it, and then she fell for it—right off the side of the roof.

It’s always funnier when something like that happens to a paladin.

	Illustration by Florian Stitz

I grinned as I turned to face Dongmei. She had just finished calling down a spell, her arms raised to heaven to receive it.

It landed on me, a pillar of roaring flames. I threw back my head to laugh—fire doesn’t bother me when I’m cloaked in Hell—but out of my mouth came a howl of pain.

The holy fire was hot and cold and something else I can’t explain. It hurt far more than the burning I feel just before fire turns me big. My hair floated up like I was underwater. My clothes rustled but didn’t so much as smoke.

My grin turned into a snarl.

“All right, sister, you got my attention.”

Dongmei’s eyes widened. She ran and leaped to the next building, once more walking on an invisible stair. I sent a pair of darts after her, putting one just above her shoulder blade. She faltered but didn’t fall.

The gap was wider than those I’d jumped before. I pumped my legs, my clawed toes tearing divots in the burning roof. I threw myself across the street and landed hard on the opposite roof, leaving the burning building behind me.

Dongmei’s fingers sketched another spell. She babbled holy words.

I charged across the tiles, diving into a tumble to come at her from below. My palm caught her on the breastbone. I let my fingers do the spider-crawl strike Burning Cloud Devil taught me. I sealed them with the final blow.

Dongmei recognized the attack. Her face paled. She slapped at her sternum, gasping as I raised my fist and squeezed it tight.

I felt no invisible strings between my fingers and her heart. I still hadn’t got the knack.

Her color returned. She raised her scepter.

I shot her a fast one in the breadbasket. My knuckle spurs pierced her armor.

She pressed her hand against my forehead. I felt her pulse fluttering through her palm. The last few syllables of her spell came out in blood, but she pronounced them well enough for her goddess to hear.

The goddess replied.

Holy fire erupted out of my brain. Hot tears poured down my face, so thick I feared they might be my melted eyeballs. Dongmei showed me a pained smile of triumph as her face blurred from my vision.

My thoughts melted away next. All I had left inside my head was hatred. My hand found the grip of the big knife. I brought it up hard and low, through Dongmei’s belly and up into her chest.

She didn’t scream. The only sound was the scrape of my blade across her metal armor and the bone beneath. I lifted her up, twisting and jerking the blade to tear her heart to pieces. The cloud over my vision drifted away.

“Sister!” Xifeng screamed from the edge of the roof.

I turned to show the paladin what I’d done with her sister. Dongmei’s blood was on my face, running down my lips and across the long, ragged teeth of my big smile.

Across my shoulder, Dongmei stretched a feeble arm toward Xifeng. For an instant, the gesture plucked at something that had slipped down deep inside me. It was something important, something I used to value. I couldn’t think of its name.

Whatever it was, I didn’t need it anymore.

Xifeng stood at the edge of the roof. She raised her hand toward her sister’s.

Dongmei’s weight lifted off of me. Her body faded away, but the ghost of it floated toward her sister. As their outstretched hands touched, the image of Dongmei vanished. Xifeng stood alone, her sword-glaive in one hand, the phoenix scepter in the other.

She tucked her sister’s weapon inside her belt and assumed a fighting stance.

“You want some of the same?” I said.

There was no one to translate, but she was done talking. She came on like a storm.

I drifted back and tried another kick, but she set the butt of her weapon into the tile and blocked me. The dark wood was hard as steel. There’d be one hell of a bruise on my instep.

She attacked with both the blade and the spiked butt of the glaive. She was strong as a bull, and fast. It was all I could do to bring up my arms to protect my body. The blade hit hard, but it couldn’t cut the sleeves of my enchanted robes. Xifeng noticed and redirected her blows to my hands, face, and feet.

Her limited targets gave me breathing room. With the big knife I gave her a good shot in the shoulder, hard enough to bloody her golden scales. The wound barely slowed her.

I followed up with a knee to the belly, but she faded back and stepped to my right. She’d gulled me!

The blade creased the back of my skull. The bone cracked, and I felt a cool rush of air slip inside. I rolled away, expecting a finishing shot to land where my head had been.

Xifeng anticipated that, too. The butt of her glaive slammed into my mouth. I choked on blood and the shards of my teeth.

Something came apart inside me. It felt as though some enormous hand had grasped my spine and cracked it like a whip. Everything I saw turned the color of blood. I clutched and clawed, kicked and raked, snarling and spitting like an animal.

It didn’t matter what I touched. I ripped it in my hands, shredded it in my ruined teeth. Shattered tile, metal, and flesh filled my mouth. At last I felt a hard kick on my ass, and I fell off the roof and face-first onto the pavement.

I came up spitting fragments of paving stones.

Mocking laughter rained down from another roof across the street.

“The gods punish you for starting another fight without me,” said Burning Cloud Devil. His voice was equal parts amusement, irritation, and wine.

He sat cross-legged on the edge of a bakery roof. Cradled in his legs were a steam basket and a wine jug. He’d brought refreshments for the show.

The sun exploded behind me. That’s how it felt, anyway.

I turned, shielding my eyes from the radiance. On the roof stood the silhouettes of both sisters, each holding her weapon. They stepped forward. Each was bloodied, but Dongmei’s wound now appeared little more than a deep cut.

They hesitated at the sight of Burning Cloud Devil. He laughed at their reaction.

“The Phoenix Warrior! I meant to seek her out, but only after you had mastered the Quivering Palm.”

“Maybe you can give me a hand,” I said. Even in devil-speech, my words came out a mushy mumble through my broken teeth. “Which sister you want?”

“Which sister?” He juggled a hot dumpling one-handed. “There is but one Phoenix Warrior.”

I figured he meant Dongmei, then, since she carried the phoenix scepter. I pointed at her. “Almost got that one.”

Dongmei scoffed. “Burning Cloud Devil, let us see what fiend you have summoned to plague our town.” She touched the butt of Xifeng’s glaive to wet her fingers with blood.

My blood.

She blew it like a kiss onto a strip of white parchment and read the words that formed there. “Radovan Virholt Norge kel Zogreb Dokange the Flaying Tongue Fell Viridio ...This is not a name!”

In her hands, the blood turned her parchment completely red before trickling down her fingers. She cast it away like a filthy thing.

Burning Cloud Devil choked on his dumpling. “So many!”

Dongmei and Xifeng raised their arms to the sky and bathed in healing radiance. I’d have to start all over.

“Bitches cheat,” I said. “Come on, Lefty. You can take the little one.”

Burning Cloud Devil lost his smirk and glared at me. All right, I admitted. That was a little mean. But if he hadn’t come to fight, he could use all the encouragement I had to offer.

Dongmei ran down her steps of air to stand twenty feet away to my left. Xifeng hit the ground on the right. They raised their weapons and closed in toward me.

“It is a pity you were not a more diligent student,” said Burning Cloud Devil.

Before I could ask what he meant by ‘were,’ Xifeng made a flourish with her glaive. Despite my tough robes, I was shy of that blade, but I was tired of running. I sidestepped, but her attack was only a feint. On the ground between us, Dongmei’s shadow swallowed up mine and kept growing.

I leaped aside just in time to avoid her massive fist. It struck the ground like a boulder, and I kept rolling away. She’d grown taller than me, bigger than an ogre.

On the roof, Burning Cloud Devil laughed. His voice echoed through the streets and shook the shutters. He wrote on a sheet of paper on his knee.

“Take your notes later!” I shouted.

Xifeng came for me in earnest. Her glaive smashed a hitching post where my legs had been an instant earlier.

It was time to get away. I ran up the street and skidded to a halt. The city guard had arrived. They formed a barricade of pikes and shields. I turned to run down the street, dodging the giant Dongmei and her smaller but still vicious paladin double. Beyond them, another phalanx of guards appeared.

I looked around, but every path was closed. There were archers on the rooftops, and every door and window had shut.

“A little help!”

Burning Cloud Devil washed down the last of his dumplings with a huge swig of wine. “Very well,” he said. “But only if you use the Quivering Palm.”

“I can’t—” What the hell. I could give it a go. “Fine!”

“Put them close together.” Burning Cloud Devil’s voice whispered in my ear. I heard it as clearly as if he’d stood behind me, but he remained on the rooftop. He dropped the empty jug and steam basket and assumed a horse stance.

He let the giant kick me around a little while I focused on keeping Xifeng’s blade from my neck. At last, the spell that made Dongmei big wore off. I rolled toward a wall, ran three steps up the side, and flipped back to kick her in the face.

It was a heavy blow made worse by the claws on my toes. Four deep grooves cut across her face, and for a second I thought I’d taken out an eye. In an instant, the wound faded to half its depth. She whipped around to strike me with her glowing scepter. I leaped out of the way.

From the other side, Xifeng screamed as she lunged for me. I twisted aside and felt her blade slide across my shoulder blades. One glimpse of her angry face showed me she’d suffered half the kick I gave Dongmei.

“Now,” whispered Burning Cloud Devil. “Strike both at once.”

I crouched low and struck both women at once. My palms hit just below the breastbone. The fingers of my left hand traced out the pattern of a cage, or a net. I’d never thought of it that way before, but I knew it could capture a life.

Xifeng gasped.

The fingers of my right hand moved also, but too slow.

Dongmei slapped my hand away.

“Do as I do,” hissed Burning Cloud Devil.

For another second I tried to remember the moves he had made through my left hand. Then I gave up and just tried to feel them.

I struck again, hitting both women in the same place. My fingers moved, this time faster than Burning Cloud Devil could command them. They formed the same patterns, built the same cages. Xifeng and Dongmei cried out as one. Their bodies trembled and became translucent. They moved together, forming a single person holding Xifeng and Dongmei’s weapons in either hand. She fell to her knees.

I rolled back and stood. A cool calm washed over me, but underneath I felt the heat of anger. They—she—had meant to kill me, but now I was the one who held her life in my palm. I felt it trembling there, like a hummingbird.

“Mercy,” moaned the Phoenix Warrior. “Spare me.”

“Crush her,” whispered Burning Cloud Devil. “Prove what you have learned.”

“I didn’t come after you,” I told her. “You came after me.”

“Please.”

I needed another reason. “You broke my teeth.”

She opened her mouth, but before she could plead again, her courage returned to clamp her jaw shut.

“You have this coming,” I told her. I wanted to believe it, too.

I closed my hand. A bird-shaped flame leaped from her chest and flew away. In its wake, the buildings caught fire as the woman’s corpse fell onto the dusty street.

Purchase the whole novel here.

Coming Next Week: A brand new Radovan and Jeggare mystery on the high seas, courtesy of Dave Gross!

Dave Gross is the author of numerous Pathfinder Tales novels and stories. His adventures of Radovan and Jeggare include the novels Prince of Wolves and Master of Devils, the Pathfinder's Journals "Hell's Pawns" and "Husks" (published in the Council of Thieves Adventure Path and the upcoming Jade Regent Adventure Path, respectively), and the short stories "The Lost Pathfinder" and "A Lesson in Taxonomy." In addition, he's also co-written the Pathfinder Tales novel Winter Witch with Elaine Cunningham.

Ultimate Combat Preview #2

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

During the preview banquet at PaizoCon this year, I boasted that Ultimate Combat had a gigantic feats chapter, which started off with a seven-page table, summarizing all the feats. While that is impressive, I realized later that I made a mistake—the feats table is nine pages long!

This week we're going to take a look at the feats chapter a bit more closely, since it is such an important part of this book. This chapter contains 256 feats, suitable for characters of every race and class. There are feats to grant bonuses with nets, feats that let you mix a hex with an unarmed strike, and feats that nearly let you rip off your opponents head! While many of them are combat feats, there are a few new feat categories as well. Grit feats modify and amplify the abilities of the gunslinger class, while style feats represent fighting forms and techniques, primarily employed by martial art masters, such as the monk. Take a look at this chain of style feats.

Illustration by Dmitry Burmak

Crane Style (Combat, Style)
Your unarmed fighting techniques blend poise with graceful defense.
Prerequisites: Dodge, Improved Unarmed Strike, base attack bonus +2 or monk level 1st.
Benefit: You take only a –2 penalty on attack rolls for fighting defensively. While using this style and fighting defensively or using the total defense action, you gain an additional +1 dodge bonus to your Armor Class.

Crane Wing (Combat)
You move with the speed and finesse of an avian hunter, your sweeping blocks and graceful motions allowing you to deflect melee attacks with ease.
Prerequisites: Crane Style, Dodge, Improved Unarmed Strike, base attack bonus +5 or monk level 5th.
Benefit: Once per round while using Crane Style, when you have at least one hand free and are either fighting defensively or using the total defense action, you can deflect one melee weapon attack that would normally hit you. You expend no action to deflect the attack, but you must be aware of it and not flat-footed. An attack so deflected deals no damage to you.

Crane Riposte (Combat)
You use your defensive abilities to make overpowering counterattacks.
Prerequisites: Crane Style, Crane Wing, Dodge, Improved Unarmed Strike, base attack bonus +8 or monk level 7th.
Benefit: You take only a –1 penalty on attack rolls for fighting defensively. Whenever you use Crane Wing to deflect an opponent's attack, you can make an attack of opportunity against that opponent after the attack is deflected.

This is one of the easiest style feats to qualify for, but the trick with these feats is that you cannot utilize more than one style feat at a time, and you cannot use the other feats in the chain unless you are using the base style feat as well. While this means you can get some pretty good abilities if you just focus on one chain, getting into multiple chains forces you to make decisions about which abilities you want on a given round.

Of course, the chapter also features some new teamwork feats and a new classification of feats called Performance feats, which give you an edge when fighting in an arena or other theater of blood. Take a look at these two, one from each category.

Shake It Off (Teamwork)
You support your allies and help them recover from crippling effects.
Benefit: When you are adjacent to one or more allies who also have this feat, you gain a +1 bonus on saving throws per such ally (maximum +4).

Murderer's Circle (Combat, Performance)
After savaging your foe, you circle like a hunter ready for the kill.
Prerequisites: Dodge, Acrobatics 4 ranks.
Benefit: When you spend a swift action to make a performance combat check after scoring a critical hit or performing a combat maneuver, and you are adjacent to the target of the critical hit or combat maneuver, you can move to any other space that is adjacent to the target without provoking attacks of opportunity. You must have a clear path to that space and the ability to reach it by spending a move action. If you end this move in any space other than the one where you started, you gain a +2 bonus on the performance combat check.

I must admit, I picked those two to show off due mainly to their awesome names. There are a lot of really great feats in this book and I would love to show off all of them to you, but you'll just have to check them out for yourself when the book releases next week. For our final preview, we're going to take a look at some of the great new rules systems found in this book, including vehicle combat!

Jason Bulmahn
Lead Designer

The Future of Pathfinder Society Organized Play, Part XIX: Retuning the Rules

Monday, July 25, 2011

We're just over a week away from Gen Con 2011 and the launch of Pathfinder Society Organized Play's fourth year, dubbed "The Year of the Ruby Phoenix", and the entire editorial staff seems to be under the permanent effects of haste and insanity. While I'm burning the midnight oil from both ends (sorry 'bout the mixed metaphor, but it's accurate), I thought I'd make a short post to preview some of the revisions to the campaign rules themselves, as will appear in the newest version of the Guide to Pathfinder Society Organized Play, which we'll have out shortly.

For full details on these and other changes, you'll have to wait for the full rules, but here's a hint at some of what's in store. Note that none of these rules go into effect until August 4, 2011, when the revised Guide will actually become legal and valid.

• The nearly out-of-print Seekers of Secrets will be removed from the Core Assumption, replaced with the brand-new Pathfinder Society Field Guide, releasing at Gen Con. This book includes new Prestige Awards unique to each of the 10 factions, new archetypes, spells, equipment, and a section on vanities, which are purchasable with Prestige Points and allow you to own a business or a manor house, have minions and servants to provide you bonuses, and grant you membership into exclusive clubs like thieves' guilds and hunting lodges.
• Day Jobs are being simplified, and will now be a single Craft, Perform, or Profession check, with all relevant modifiers. Some vanities or Prestige Awards will allow you to use different skills for such checks, including the much requested Sleight of Hand.
• Characters will be able to switch factions by paying Prestige Points to represent the fewer favors their new faction owes them. All PCs will receive one free faction change beginning on August 4 that must be used before the first session played in Season 3. If you don't play any Pathfinder Society during Season 3, you'll have to pay to change factions in Season 4.
• New PCs will no longer be restricted from purchasing magic items at character creation. They will still be limited by having only 150 gp to spend on such items, and can't buy anything not on the Always Available list, but now you can start with a scroll or a potion if you've got the money for one!
• Characters of new factions playing old scenarios will do a faction mission from one of the original five, earning prestige as if that mission had been tied to your faction all along. The pairings will be: Grand Lodge > Osirion; Lantern Lodge > Qadira; Sczarni > Taldor; Shadow Lodge > Cheliax; and Silver Crusade > Andoran.
• Since Season 3 will feature only one faction mission per scenario, with a second Prestige Point tied to the completion of the overall scenario, Season 0 scenarios with 1 Prestige Point available can be run as written, while scenarios from Seasons 1 and 2 will treat one faction mission as the overall objective and the other as the faction specific objective to maintain the same 2 Prestige Points per scenario.
• The Guide will also include rules for rebuilding elements of characters using open playtest rules, or when an errata or FAQ of an existing rule causes it to work significantly differently than before.

I guess that's about all I have time for at the moment, because I still have to get the guide polished off and ready to go, not to mention our four new scenarios and Gen Con special, Blood Under Absalom. (The art you're seeing here is a sample of what players in these new adventures have in store, by the way.) Oh, and revised pregens. Yeah, those are finally coming out, as well.

Next week, in the twentieth and final installment of the Future of Pathfinder Society Organized Play blog series, I'll talk a little about some of the exciting gaming opportunities we have planned for Gen Con and reveal the heretofore unmentioned exclusive prizes players in Pathfinder Society and Pathfinder Roleplaying Game delve events will have a chance to win at the show!

Mark Moreland
Developer

Last Chance to Vote!

Friday, July 22nd, 2011

Don't forget that this weekend is your last chance to vote on the ENnine awards! Paizo's been nominated in a number of categories, and we'd love your support. Our nominations include:

Best Adventure: Pathfinder #43: The Haunting of Harrowstone
Best Art, Interior: Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Inner Sea World Guide
Best Cartography: Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Inner Sea Poster Map Folio
Best Monster/Adversary: Pathfinder RPG Bestiary 2
Best Production Values: Pathfinder RPG Bestiary 2
Best Setting: Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Inner Sea World Guide
Best Supplement: Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player's Guide
Product of the Year: Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Inner Sea World Guide AND Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player's Guide

Voting ends this Sunday, so get out there and vote!

James Sutter
Fiction Editor

Golarion Day: Inner Sea Magic Preview

Thursday, July 21, 2011

	Illustration by Roberto Pitturru

Well, because you asked for it, here's a preview of some elements taken from the upcoming Pathfinder Campaign Setting book, Inner Sea Magic. I'm including excerpts from two different sections of the book—one of the possible results for unleashing primal magic (as might occur if you try to cast spells in the Mana Wastes) and one new hex that the winter witch archetype grants access to (and yes they do gain a bonus on all cold spells they cast).

Excerpted from "Sample Primal Magic Effects": 75–78 Strange telekinetic forces rip through the area, attempting to trip all creatures in a CR x 10 foot radius. The event makes a trip combat maneuver check against all available targets, using a CMB of 10 + CR. Any creature tripped by the event has its equipment reorganized and tangled by the mischievous telekinesis. Until a creature takes a minute to reorganize its belongings, retrieving a stowed item is a full-round action.

Excerpted from "Spells": Frozen Caress (Su): Whenever the winter witch casts a touch spell, she can infuse the magic with cold as a swift action. This grants the spell the cold descriptor, and adds 1d4 points of cold damage to the spell's effect. If the touch spell allows a saving throw, a successful save negates this additional cold damage.

And here's one more preview—the names of all 39 spells that appear in the book, presented in alphabetical order:

Aroden's Spellbane Bladed Dash Bladed Dash, Greater Blast Barrier Call Weapon Crusader's Edge Eaglesoul Eldritch Conduit Eldritch Conduit, Greater Fleshcurdle Forceful Strike Geb's Hammer Geniekind

Hungry Darkness Hunter's Lore Ice Spears Impart Mind Khain's Army Kiss of the First World Light of Iomedae Martial Marionette Martyr's Bargain Music of the Spheres Orchid's Drop Pugwampi's Grace Shadow Barbs

Shining Cord Siphon Magic Song of Kyonin Spell Absorption Spell Absorption, Greater Spellscar Suppress Primal Magic Tattoo Potion Transfer Tattoo Vengeful Comets Vex Giant Weaponwand Zone of Foul Flames

James Jacobs
Creative Director

Plow and Sword

by Robert E. Vardeman

Chapter Four: Last Stands

"We should leave," Beeah said, tears in her eyes. "If what you say is true, we can't fight Lord Suvarian."

"Who is he?" piped up young Rayallan. The boy looked around curiously. Rorr caught his breath looking into the boy's face. He saw Ulane there, never quite sure what was going on but interested all the same. And usually wrong when he decided.

"He thinks he's got the right to take our property," Fren said.

Rorr wasn't sure about his older stepson. Some of Beeah shone through, but none of her fearfulness. And Fren lacked the wide-eyed wonder Rayallan showed. He wished the boy were older. He could use a strong arm protecting his back.

"He is a petty lord, like—" He bit off the rest. There was no point describing Suvarian in terms they wouldn't understand. "I've seen men like him. Thievery is always their first move."

"He's got a lot of armed men," Rayallan said. "Fren said there were half-orcs. I've never seen one." The longing in the boy's voice also reminded Rorr of his brother. Never quite brave enough to explore his world, but always certain something lay just beyond the horizon. Ulane had died unfulfilled in so many ways.

But he'd had a loving wife and two fine sons. Rorr let out breath he hadn't realized he held.

"If we run, we will have nothing. The harvest will be lost. The house and everything in it will be destroyed."

"We can take some things..." Beeah looked around in despair.

"The Torvans probably thought the same. If they got away, it was with little more than what they wore."

"That was a lot of grain that burned," Fren said. A wild light came to his eyes. "You should have seen it blow up. It was like—"

"Like what will happen to our grain, to our house and barn unless we fortify," Rorr said. At some point listening to his sons and watching his wife agonize over losing hard-won furniture and keepsakes, he had decided. They would fight.

"How?"

"Board the windows. Rayallan, you're good with a hammer. See to using that pile of cut planks out back."

"I'm good with a hammer? You mean it? Yes!" He rushed off, excited at being praised—and needed. Rorr hoped that the boy would live to brag about it.

"What can we do?" Beeah asked. Fren scowled at his mother as she wrapped her arms around him in a fiercely protective hug. "Fren and I can help."

"They use fire arrows. Water will keep anything surrounding the arrow from burning, but the arrow itself cannot be extinguished."

"Tongs," Fren said suddenly. "Fire tongs. And heavy gloves. I can pluck the arrows out that way!"

Rorr nodded. It wasn't likely to work the way his son thought, but it might save some damage.

"What are you going to do?" Beeah wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold. She shook. Rorr moved to comfort her, then realized there was no time. He heard the pounding of hooves in the distance.

He swung about and went to the oak where the hole among its roots still beckoned. Dropping to his knees, he pulled the final oilcloth-wrapped package from the ground. He stripped away the thick cloth and gripped the sword within. It felt familiar in his hand, bringing with it memories of other times. He settled the buckler on his left arm, adjusted his greaves, then went out to face the riders before they had a chance to set fire to his house.

A quick glance over his shoulder showed his younger son hammering furiously to fasten the wood over the windows. Rayallan paid attention to nothing but his work. Every blow of his hammer drove a nail in. Some took two strikes, but Rorr approved. Through the open door he saw his wife and other son moving furniture so the doorway could be blocked in a few seconds.

He had no more time to consider how the defense went. A dozen riders approached, slowing and finally coming to a halt.

"You're still here," the lead rider called. He urged his horse forward a few yards, cutting the distance between them in half. He wore light plate armor emblazoned with the sigil the others had worn. An articulated glove on his right hand curved around the saddle horn. His ungloved left hand dangled free at his side but was only inches away from a large shield, also decorated with the gerfalcon rampant.

"It's my land." Rorr held his sword at his side and partially behind him to hide it from the man.

	"Lord or no, Suvarian is far from noble."

"I'm Lord Suvarian."

Rorr knew the lord expected a reply. He remained silent.

Suvarian bristled and drew his sword, brandishing it over his head.

"You defy me, man of dirt. You are a farmer. I am lord of all these lands! Go to your knee! Show me respect."

"You're a cattle herder who takes on airs," Rorr shot back. "Are you truly royalty? Or are you some squire's bastard son out to make a name for himself?"

Suvarian roared and galloped forward, sword slashing. Rorr stepped to the left side of the lord's horse, forcing the man to awkwardly reach across his body in a futile attempt to land a blow. Before he could gauge the proper distance, he was past Rorr and fighting to wheel his horse about.

Rorr looked at the other soldiers. They wore heavier armor than the men he had killed. None carried a bow and arrow. That brought a slow smile to his lips. He might have destroyed all their bowstrings, or perhaps these were Suvarian's personal guard and fancied themselves swordsmen. They sat awkwardly on their horses and seemed uneasy with their weapons.

"These are back-stabbers, not fighters," Rorr said. He pointedly turned his back on the dozen soldiers and faced Suvarian. "Take them and go. I have work to do."

Rorr widened his stance as Suvarian prepared for another attack.

"I have wasted enough time. Leave or die!"

"How many of your men have I killed already? I lost count. A battle scribe will be needed for the tally if you refuse to leave now."

"You? You, a farmer?" Suvarian barked the words, but a hint of uncertainty came and he looked over at his guardsmen. He boasted for them—and to bolster his own courage. The failed first attack had obviously unsettled him. "Give this whelp a sword. I would fight him."

"After I kill you," Rorr asked, "your men will depart?"

Suvarian laughed. It carried a hint of madness in it.

"You cannot slay an armored knight. I am lord of these lands and a master swordsman!"

A rider came up with a sheathed sword. He threw it to the ground beside Rorr.

"Then your death will be mourned near and far." Rorr kicked the sword aside without looking at it. "I prefer to use my own."

He lifted the sword from where he had held it at his side. Sunlight glinted off the intricate hilt, the fine etching on the blade, the wicked, slightly curved tip and the edge so sharp that it cut through the air without even the softest whisper.

The soldier who had dropped the sheathed sword moved away a few yards. He called to the others, "He has an Aldori dueling sword!"

This caused momentary furor among the men.

"Where did you find the sword, farmer?" Suvarian called. "You can hurt yourself with such fine steel."

"I never so much as nicked myself through three border wars." Rorr lifted the sword to display the intricately decorated boss at the end of the hilt.

"A swordlord's seal. Where did you steal that, plowboy?" Suvarian sounded less sure of himself.

"It has been my soul and companion for four years."

The lord's face drained of blood. "You are a thief and a liar!"

"I challenge you, Suvarian. Fight or leave my land now!"

The soldiers murmured when their lord did not instantly move to slay the impudent peasant.

"You," Lord Suvarian called to them. "Yorrial, Juston, Jerra—kill him! Fight him!"

"I challenged you, Suvarian."

"All of you, attack! Kill him!" Suvarian tried to force his horse to back away, but the animal balked.

His warriors milled about until one finally let out a battle cry and galloped forward. Rorr looked from Suvarian to the attacking soldier. He took a quick double step to the side, ducked, threw up his buckler to deflect the slash, and straightened his bowed legs. His sword tip found the spot at the vulnerable bottom of the rider's armor. Rorr felt first resistance, then none, then resistance again as the blade drove through internal organs. As the rider toppled, Rorr yanked back his blade. He held it high, letting the dead soldier's blood run down the small channels on the Aldori sword so the others could see.

A second warrior started an attack, then veered away.

Rorr turned his back on the tiny knot of fighters and faced Suvarian. The man fought to control his horse. Rorr walked forward, tongue clacking at a pace and frequency to unsettle the horse further. It had worked before during many battles where he had faced impossible odds. It worked again.

The horse reared and tossed Suvarian to the ground. The lord landed hard on his back and struggled to sit up. His armor wasn't full plate, but the pretender found it too heavy to move.

Rorr stopped a pace away, eyeing the fallen lord. Suvarian screeched like an owl as Rorr slashed. The shriek turned to a blubbering sob as Suvarian realized the cuts had done nothing but sever the leather straps holding his armor.

"Stand and fight," Rorr said coldly. "If you don't, I'll kill you like a rabid dog."

Suvarian rolled from side to side, then shucked off the armor like a snake molting its skin. He struggled to hands and knees, then forced himself to stand. He clutched his sword in a clumsy double-handed grip.

"I'll cut out your eyes and feed them to crows," Suvarian said in a shaky voice.

Rorr tapped his cheek with the boss at the end of his hilt in silent prayer to Gorum. Then he flashed the sword in a mocking salute.

Suvarian attacked. His assault was primitive, and Rorr hoped that his own untrained sons would have done better, had he handed them a sword.

A quick flurry of parries and a simple thrust sent Suvarian staggering away, a long cut across his torso.

"Kill him, you cowards! Do as I order!" Suvarian gripped his weapon fearfully, more like an ax than a sword. His eyes widened in fear as Rorr slashed the air. The lord switched from threatening to cajoling. "A thousand acres of pastureland to whoever kills him. Two thousand!"

Rorr heard nothing behind him to hint that any of Suvarian's soldiers found the offer intriguing enough to die for. He stamped his foot and sent Suvarian scuttling away.

"You don't deserve to die by my sword—not this sword, with so proud a history." Rorr thrust the blade into the ground so hard it quivered for several seconds. He saw calculation come to Suvarian's eyes. The lord's courage returned as Rorr advanced, weaponless.

"You are a fool, farmer." Suvarian screamed and charged.

Rorr watched, gauged where the pretender's foot would be planted, then swept up his shovel where it had been thrust into the ground at the middle of a plowed row. He swung the tool with his right hand as he parried Suvarian's thrust off the buckler. The tiny shield whined with the impact—and Suvarian fell facedown, tripped up by the shovel's shaft.

The man tried to rise, but Rorr's patience was at an end. He gripped the shovel handle with both hands and swung, batting the sword away. A foot in the middle of Suvarian's back forced him flat again and pinned him there.

A quick look up told Rorr what he needed. None of Suvarian's brigands made a move to aid their lord.

"You should not prey on those unable to fight back," Rorr said.

"I'll see you executed!"

"No, you won't." The shovel rose and fell. Suvarian's head rolled away and stared off down a plowed row, as if making a final examination before approving the straight furrow and deep, even cut.

Rorr left the shovel buried in the ground, walked deliberately back to where his sword thrust up. He withdrew it from the dirt, prepared for a fight against the remaining soldiers.

Only dust met his eyes. When the cloud settled, his view was unobstructed all the way to the trees at the far side of his land, save by the occasional bush or sapling. Those would be removed as autumn plowing went on.

He turned and saw Beeah and his two children. Fren and Rayallan stared openmouthed at Suvarian's body. His wife's eyes never left him.

"I'll tend to this," he said. "Go back to the house. You did a good job of fastening the planks over the windows, Rayallan. Now get your brother to help you remove them."

"There's no more?" Fren sounded disappointed.

"Go," Rorr said, but there was no crack of command in his voice. He was no longer a commander of men. A father directing his sons was more appropriate now.

"Aw, Pa," protested Fren. Then he punched his brother in the shoulder and challenged him to race back to the house. Only when they were halfway back did Beeah step up.

"I don't understand," she said. "How—?" She looked at Suvarian, then jerked away from the gory sight.

"No one threatens my family or my land."

Fear widened her eyes—fear of her husband.

"We have work to do."

She opened her mouth to speak, then clamped it shut once more as she shook her head.

"I'll plow. When the boys are done with the house, send them back. There will be work for them in the fields."

"He was a lord," she said, her voice cracked with emotion. "He will have an heir."

"He was nothing but a brigand."

"Someone else will come. If not his heir, then another in his company. What will we do then?"

Rorr looked at his wife and held up the shovel. She recoiled. He drove the blade into the ground, then heaved the dirt high into the air. Wind caught the soil and scattered it. Beeah backed off, then almost ran to the farmhouse.

Rorr took a deep breath, threw the shovel aside, and went to harness the plow horse. It took close to a half-hour to return to the field with the horse dutifully pulling the plow. Rorr spit on his hands and bent forward to guide the plow. There was real work to be done.

He didn't even look up when the cougar howled in the distance.

Coming Next Week: A sneak peek at Dave Gross's latest Pathfinder Tales novel, Master of Devils.

Robert E. Vardeman is the author of more than fifty science fiction and fantasy novels, including both original series such as Cenotaph Road, War of Powers, and Swords of Raemllyn, as well as tie-in novels for such notable properties as Tom Swift, God of War, Battletech, Star Trek, and Magic: The Gathering. He has been nominated for the Hugo Award for Best Fan Writer, and is one of the founders of the New Mexico science fiction convention Bubonicon. For more information, visit his website.

Art by Carlos Villa.

Ultimate Combat Preview #1

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Time slips by so quickly during the summer months that it seems like a new rulebook is just around the corner. As it turns out, Ultimate Combat is due to release in just a few weeks. From now until Gen Con, we will be showing off some of the exciting new options for characters and GMs alike that hide inside this blood-drenched tome.

To kick things off, I can think of no better way than to take a look at the classes chapter of Ultimate Combat. This book features one brand-new class, the gunslinger, as well as two alternate classes, the ninja and the samurai. In addition, all of the classes that focus on melee or ranged combat get a host of new archetypes in this book. Take a look a this list.

Illustration by Mauricio Herrera

Alchemist: This section presents the beastmorph and ragechemist archetypes.
Barbarian: This section includes the armored hulk, scarred rager, sea reaver, titan mauler, true primitive, urban barbarian, and wild rager.
Bard: This section includes the archaeologist, daredevil, and dervish dancer.
Cavalier: This section includes the beast rider, emissary, gendarme, honor guard, luring cavalier, musketeer, standard bearer, and strategist.
Cleric: This section includes the crusader, divine strategist, evangelist, and merciful healer.
Druid: This section includes the ape shaman, bat shaman, and boar shaman, as well as the world walker.
Fighter: This section includes the armor master, brawler, cad, dragoon, gladiator, tactician, thunderstriker, tower shield specialist, unarmed fighter, and unbreakable.
Gunslinger: This section includes the gun tank, musket master, mysterious stranger, and pistolero.
Inquisitor: This section includes the iconoclast, spellbreaker, and witch hunter.
Magus: This section includes the kensai, myrmidarch, skirnir, and soul forger.
Monk: This section includes the flowing monk, maneuver master, martial artist, master of many styles, sensei, sohei, and tetori.
Paladin: This section includes the divine hunter, empyreal knight, holy gun, holy tactician, knight of the sepulcher, and sacred shield.
Ranger: This section includes the battle scout, deep walker, falconer, trophy hunter, warden, and wild stalker.
Rogue: This section includes new rogue talents, plus the bandit, chameleon, charlatan, driver, knife master, pirate, roof runner, sanctified rogue, and survivalist.
Wizard: This section includes the arcane bomber, siege mage, and spellslinger.

Of course, some of these classes get other new rules as well, such as rage powers, rogue talents, and the like. Some of these archetypes can make for some versatile and powerful characters. I myself am playing with one of these archetypes in a campaign being run by our illustrious publisher, Erik Mona. Take a look at the Maneuver Master.

Maneuver Master (Archetype)
The maneuver master specializes in more complicated moves than simple damage-dealing strikes.
Bonus Feat: In addition to normal monk bonus feats, a maneuver master may select any Improved combat maneuver feat (such as Improved Overrun) as a bonus feat. At 6th level and above, he may select any Greater combat maneuver feat (such as Greater Grapple) as a bonus feat. At 10th level and above, he may select any maneuver Strike feat (such as Tripping Strike) as a bonus feat.
Flurry of Maneuvers (Ex): At 1st level, as part of a full-attack action, a maneuver master can make one additional combat maneuver, regardless of whether the maneuver normally replaces a melee attack or requires a standard action. The maneuver master uses his monk level in place of his base attack bonus to determine his CMB for the bonus maneuvers, though all combat maneuver checks suffer a –2 penalty when using a flurry. At 8th level, a maneuver master may attempt a second additional combat maneuver, with an additional –3 penalty on combat maneuver checks. At 15th level, a maneuver master may attempt a third additional combat maneuver, with an additional –7 penalty on combat maneuver checks. This ability replaces flurry of blows.
Maneuver Defense (Ex): At 3rd level, if a maneuver master has an Improved combat maneuver feat, any creature attempting that maneuver against the maneuver master provokes an attack of opportunity, even if it would not normally do so. This ability replaces still mind.
Reliable Maneuver (Ex): At 4th level, as a swift action, a maneuver master may spend 1 point from his ki pool before attempting a combat maneuver. He can roll his combat maneuver check for that maneuver twice and use the better result. This ability replaces slow fall.
Meditative Maneuver (Ex): At 5th level, as a swift action, a maneuver master can add his Wisdom modifier on any combat maneuver check he makes before the beginning of his next turn. He must choose which combat maneuver check to grant the bonus to before making the combat maneuver check. This ability replaces purity of body.
Sweeping Maneuver (Ex): At 11th level, a maneuver master can make two combat maneuvers as a standard action, as long as neither maneuver requires the maneuver master to move. He may perform two identical maneuvers against two adjacent enemies, or he may perform two different combat maneuvers against the same target. This ability replaces diamond body.
Whirlwind Maneuver (Ex): At 15th level, once per day as a full-round action, a maneuver master can attempt a single combat maneuver against every opponent he threatens, as long as the combat maneuver does not require movement. He makes a single combat maneuver check, and it applies to all targets. This ability replaces quivering palm.

After the first session, I can tell you that this archetype has been a blast to play. We will be looking at some of the fun toys for the monk in more detail next week, but let me close out with one last list of class-filled fun. Here is the revised and expanded list of fighter weapon groups. Weapons marked with one asterisk (*) can be found in the Advanced Player's Guide, while those with two asterisks (**) are from Ultimate Combat. Enjoy and see you all next week.

Axes: bardiche*, battleaxe, dwarven waraxe, greataxe, handaxe, heavy pick, hooked axe**, knuckle axe**, light pick, mattock**, orc double axe, pata**, and throwing axe
Blades, Heavy: bastard sword, chakram*, double chicken saber**, double walking stick katana**, elven curve blade, falcata*, falchion, greatsword, great terbutje**, katana**, khopesh*, longsword, nine-ring broadsword**, nodachi**, scimitar, scythe, seven-branched sword**, shotel**, temple sword*, terbutje**, and two-bladed sword
Blades, Light: bayonet*, butterfly sword**, dagger, gladius**, kama, kerambit**, kukri, pata**, quadrens**, rapier, short sword, sica**, sickle, starknife, swordbreaker dagger*, sword cane*, and wakizashi**
Bows: composite longbow, composite shortbow, longbow, and shortbow
Close: bayonet*, brass knuckles*, cestus**, dan bong**, emei piercer**, fighting fan**, gauntlet, heavy shield, iron brush**, light shield, madu**, mere club**, punching dagger, sap, scizore**, spiked armor, spiked gauntlet, spiked shield, tekko-kagi**, tonfa**, unarmed strike, wooden stake*, and wushu dart**
Crossbows: double crossbow*, hand crossbow, heavy crossbow, heavy repeating crossbow, light crossbow, light repeating crossbow, and tube arrow shooter**
Double: dire flail, dwarven urgrosh, gnome hooked hammer, orc double axe, quarterstaff, and two-bladed sword
Firearms: all one-handed**, two-handed**, and siege firearms**
Flails: chain spear*, dire flail, double chained kama**, flail, flying blade**, heavy flail, kusarigama**, kyoketsu shoge**, meteor hammer**, morningstar, nine-section whip**, nunchaku, sansetsukon**, scorpion whip**, spiked chain, urumi**, and whip
Hammers: aklys**, battle aspergillum*, club, greatclub, heavy mace, light hammer, light mace, mere club**, taiaha**, tetsubo**, wahaika**, and warhammer
Monk: bo staff**, brass knuckles**, butterfly sword**, cestus*, dan bong**, double chained kama**, double chicken saber**, emei piercer**, fighting fan**, jutte**, kama, kusarigama**, kyoketsu shoge**, lungshuan tamo**, monk's spade**, nine-ring broadsword**, nine-section whip**, nunchaku, quarterstaff, rope dart**, sai, sansetsukon**, seven-branched sword**, shang gou**, shuriken, siangham, tiger fork**, tonfa**, tri-point double-edged sword**, unarmed strike, urumi**, wushu dart**
Natural: unarmed strike and all natural weapons, such as bite, claw, gore, tail, and wing
Polearms: bardiche*, bec de corbin*, bill*, glaive, glaive-guisarme*, guisarme, halberd, hooked lance**, lucerne hammer*, mancatcher*, monk's spade**, naginata**, nodachi**, ranseur, rohomphaia**,tepoztopili**, and tiger fork**
Spears: amentum**, boar spear*, javelin, harpoon**, lance, longspear, pilum*, shortspear, sibat**, spear, tiger fork**, and trident
Thrown: aklys**, amentum**, atlatl**, blowgun, bolas, boomerang*, chakram*, club, dagger, dart, halfling sling staff, harpoon**, javelin, lasso*, kestros**, light hammer, net, poisoned sand tube**, rope dart**, shortspear, shuriken, sling, spear, starknife, throwing axe, throwing shield**, trident, and wushu dart**
Siege Engines: all siege engines**

Jason Bulmahn
Lead Designer

Vote for the ENnies!

Monday, July 18th, 2011

It’s that time again! The fabulous folks over at the ENnies have released their nominations for this year's awards, and Paizo is honored to have been nominated in several categories! Check it out:

Best Adventure: Pathfinder #43: The Haunting of Harrowstone
Best Art, Interior: Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Inner Sea World Guide
Best Cartography: Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Inner Sea Poster Map Folio
Best Monster/Adversary: Pathfinder RPG Bestiary 2
Best Production Values: Pathfinder RPG Bestiary 2
Best Setting: Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Inner Sea World Guide
Best Supplement: Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player's Guide
Product of the Year: Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Inner Sea World Guide AND Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player's Guide
...plus an honorable mention for Best Free Product with the Ultimate Combat Playtest PDF!

What's more, there are also several awesome Pathfinder community folks on the ballot, such as Chronicles: Pathfinder Podcast up for Best Podcast and the d20pfsrd for Best Website!

As you probably already know, the ENnies are the most prestigious award in the RPG world, and the reason they're so prestigious is that, while a carefully selected team of judges make the nominations, anyone can vote on them. It's a chance for the gaming public to get together and honor their favorite games and designers, and the voice of the people will be heard. So what will you vote for? There are a lot of great games on the ballot, and voting ends this Sunday, July 24th. Head over to the ENnies voting booth and cast your vote today!

James Sutter
Fiction Editor

The Future of Pathfinder Society Organized Play Part XVIII: Ensure the Decemvirate doesn't take advantage of Pathfinder agents.

Monday, July 18, 2011

For decades, a growing segment of the Pathfinder Society's membership has become disillusioned with the Decemvirate. Whether they hold personal grudges against the masked leaders of the Society for slights they feel were never remedied or watched too many of their friends suffer for the good of a Society that seemed to thank them very little, these rebels' numbers have surged in recent years, swelling the Shadow Lodge's membership. In 4710 AR, several fringe cells of the underground resistance movement broke off from the main body of the Shadow Lodge, and began a series of open attacks on the Grand Lodge and those loyal to it. The Decemvirate, recognizing that there was a real problem to be addressed, quelled the rebellion by bringing the Shadow Lodge back into the fold, acquiescing to some of their demands, and sending strike forces to hunt down and eliminate remaining cells of radical Shadow Lodge agents. Many still feel the Decemvirate has further to go to remedy the injustices carried out in the Society's name, though they are glad to be in good standing with the Society once again—even if many also believe they were brought back into the Grand Lodge so the Ten could keep a closer eye on them.

Well, folks, here we are. Just over two weeks left before Gen Con and only two Pathfinder Society Season 3 preview blogs left before the Year of the Ruby Phoenix kicks off. That means we're up to the last of the 10 factions from which players may choose their PCs' allegiance. Since the Year of the Shadow Lodge began, a not-insignificant portion of the players in the Pathfinder Society campaign have asked, "How do I join the Shadow Lodge?" In two weeks, they can do so easily.

The Shadow Lodge began as a clear villain organization who wanted to use the Pathfinder Society's resources for their own gain. But over time, as more and more people expressed dissatisfaction with how the Decemvirate treated the body of their organization, the more we at campaign HQ started to wonder ourselves what the implication would be to have PCs working for the Shadow Lodge.

In the end, we realized that the villains the Shadow Lodge represented would need to evolve to better fit the campaign. Luckily for us, we made this decision in plenty of time to get that evolution to take place over the course of Season 2 such that now, looking back on the Year of the Shadow Lodge, someone can follow the metaplot and watch how the organization went from evil mustache-twirling villains to Pathfinders with legitimate complaints against their leadership. By Season 2's conclusion, those playing all the scenarios over the course of the season can see that some of the Shadow Lodge's agents were too easily manipulated and misguided by influential members of the group into initiating open hostility with the Grand Lodge in hopes of destabilizing it.

Now, however, everything's been smoothed over, at least for the most part. Both the Shadow Lodge and the Decemvirate have a way to go before they trust one another fully, and both sides now must follow through on their ends of the bargain. As the first sign of the Society's willingness to do so, a new service has been added to those which may be purchased with Prestige. Beginning in Season 3, a PC may pay 5 PP to have her body recovered by a rescue team. This means you no longer have to worry about being left in a sealed tomb or abandoned on another plane of existence. As long as your body still exists (meaning no disintegration), you can get out!

Members of the Shadow Lodge, for their part, must now help the Pathfinders quell any remaining rebel cells that may exist throughout the Inner Sea region, including any featured in Season 2 scenarios that a new player or someone catching up on missed scenarios may play a year or two down the line.

So there you have it: the 10 factions available for play in Season 3 of Pathfinder Society Organized Play! Next week, we'll take a look at the revised Guide to Pathfinder Society Organized Play and go over a few of the more notable rules changes or clarifications you can expect to find within. See ya next Monday!

Mark Moreland
Developer

Illustrations by Damien Mammoliti and Maichol Quinto. Widescreen version here.

Deep, Dark, and Deadly!

July 15, 2011

It's been awhile since we've had a wallpaper, and this one's a doozie. Featuring some stunning artwork by Damien Mammoliti and Maichol Quinto, and themed around Dungeons of Golarion, it showcases Alain venturing into the Red Redoubt of Karamoss, a massive siege-fortress outside Absalom constructed by a combination of the machine-mage Karamoss's mechanical minions, powerful magic, and Numerian technology.

In the forefront is the leader of the kobolds living in the Candlestone Caverns, deep beneath rural Andoran. You definitely want to watch out for him!

Hyrum Savage
Marketing and Organized Play Manager

Golarion Day: Oni

Thursday, July 14, 2011

When we updated the ogre mage for the Pathfinder RPG Bestiary, we did a bit more than just bring his statistics in line with what he should be for a CR 8 foe. We made him into an oni. Alas, we didn’t have room to give oni as a full-on race of evil outsiders proper justice in that book, beyond mentioning that, yes, there were more oni out there.

This Gen Con, with the release of the first installment of the Jade Regent Adventure Path, we’ll be fixing that. Pathfinder #49 features an article about the oni, and for the duration of this Adventure Path, new oni will appear in the Bestiary. (And chances are better than good that you’ll be seeing even more oni near the end of the year!) Pictured here are four of those new oni—the fire yai, ice yai, water yai, and wind yai—oni closely associated with actual giants.

James Jacobs
Creative Director

Plow and Sword

by Robert E. Vardeman

Chapter Three: Relics of the Past

Rorr used the shovel to turn dirt amid the tree roots until he struck the buried packages. He dropped to his knees and used his hands to brush away the remaining dirt, revealing several small packets and one larger one. That last one he ignored, instead pulling the oilcloth wrappings free from one of the smaller bundles.

Inside lay bronze wrist guards. He ran his fingers over their nicked, rough surfaces. At one time they had been smooth. Proper care demanded that he smooth down the deep cuts and curls peeled back from the surface.

Rorr settled them on his forearms without further consideration of proper appearance. They would do. Greaves followed. He sat with his legs thrust out as he adjusted them. A long-bladed knife came next, its keen edge gleaming in the starlight. Rorr had always taken better care of it than his wrist guards. The final package he drew forth, blowing off dust and dirt, was a small buckler. The faded sigil couldn't be discerned.

At one time, that would have bothered him. No longer.

Settling the strap around his left wrist, Rorr turned the buckler this way and that, feeling the strain on muscles unused for a year and longer. He picked up the knife and sheathed it behind the buckler, then stood.

The greaves felt awkward on his legs, and the right wrist guard chafed. If he had worn it earlier, the half-orc's arrow wouldn't have penetrated his flesh. More than once, the brass guards had safely turned away arrows or sword thrusts. They might have to again.

He returned to the bodies of Lord Suvarian's brigands. No matter that they claimed to be on a royal mission—Rorr knew them for what they were. Killers. Thieves. Highwaymen, and nothing more. He dragging the bodies out to the field where he had already plowed, laying them heel to head, then covered that row with dirt. It provided a sorry grave for the soldiers, and animals would come to dine on the carrion. Rorr wanted only to keep the corpses out of sight from his wife and children.

Soon enough they would see death. Of that he was certain, but until then he would shield them however he could.

With long strides, he went to the nearby coppice most likely to shelter the soldiers' horses. A small smile came to his lips when he saw the steeds. It took only a few minutes for the horses to accept him. Rorr selected one and mounted. The other would serve as a second plow horse afterward.

Afterward.

Rorr couldn't find the trail taken by the two soldiers, so he simply relaxed his hold on the reins and let the horse have its head. It would return to the camp it had left. If not, he suspected it would take him in the proper general direction. As he bounced along, he half slept, letting his mind settle. There had been other battles, and he knew the need to be rested.

Yet in those other battles, his wife and their children had not been at risk. This bored into Rorr's brain and rooted around, turning him uneasy. Some might say marrying his brother's widow was wrong, but he had known Beeah long before Ulane wed her, and he would not leave his brother's wife to starve, or take up with a lesser man. Their sons were strong and smart and would make good farmers one day. Ulane was the better farmer, but Rorr had not been a poor student. Life on their childhood farm near Gralton had been easier, with better soil, longer seasons, and access to irrigation. But for all the challenges here, Rorr knew this farm could be proved, and they would all flourish.

Asmodeus take upstarts like Suvarian, who thought to steal what he could not otherwise own.

Rorr perked up when he saw a pair of low campfires in the distance. Dawn was still two hours from arriving, fresh and cold. Again, he resented Lord Suvarian's intrusion on his schedule. The fields had to be properly prepared, and winter cover planted to ready them for spring.

As sharp as his eyesight was, he saw no movement in the camp. No dim shape passed in front of the glowing coals in the fire pits. Those in the camp slept. Did they follow military procedure enough to post sentries? What of warding spells? It wasn't unusual for a minor sorcerer or priest to travel with a war party and cast simple spells or offer healing. Putting out a simple ward spell was a moment's work, even for an apprentice.

The closer he rode, the more he doubted any magic had been employed. They thought they were safe in their numbers. Force of arms against dirt farmers was enough to correct any small misjudgment in that respect. What did they fear a man armed only with a pitchfork, when they had bows and arrows, swords and shields?

He slipped from horseback and grabbed the reins, leading the reluctant horse away from the rude corral at the far side of the camp. Undoubtedly the horse remembered being fed and watered there. Rorr secured the reins in such a way that the horse could nibble at tough grass and dying plants, then advanced on foot.

Buckler kept low and away from the fire to prevent a warning reflection, he moved to within a few paces of the sleeping men. A slow count of dark blanket-covered lumps told Rorr that six men slept. He backed away, circled the camp, and counted horses.

Eight.

Two sentries had been posted away from the camp, but neither had spotted him as he approached. Rorr considered his route to the camp and decided that the guards either slept on duty—a crime punishable by twenty lashes in most armies—or he had inadvertently chosen the proper direction where each picket thought the other had returned to camp.

If each sentry made a half circuit of the camp, he decided that the first had to be some distance from the camp amid a tangle of thorn bushes. No soldier waited at such a place. Rorr looked up into the tree above the thicket. A slow smile came to his lips. A dark knot lodged in the crook of the trunk and first limb could only be a large hunting cat—or a sleeping soldier.

	"A man may try to forget the past. But his arms remember."

Rorr slowly paced in the opposite direction. Pulling a guard from the tree was easy enough, but the noise would alert the others. Better to deal with the second guard, if he had remained on the ground.

He almost stumbled over the sleeping sentry. The man sat with his back against a tree trunk, legs drawn up and head resting on his knees. His sword lay at his right side where he could grab it in an instant.

If he were awake.

Rorr moved like a disembodied spirit, bent and silently lifted the sword from the ground. The guard stirred, sneezed and then returned to his dreams. Rorr backed from him, the captured sword gripped tightly. It fit his hand poorly. The guard's fingers were shorter, stubbier, the breadth of his hand far less than that Rorr's. Not the hand of a swordsman, but of a craftsman.

Suvarian sent pot-throwers to fight farmers. Rorr couldn't help sneering. He was about to throw the sword away when the guard sneezed again and looked up.

The man died on the point of his own sword, thrashing about noisily before having the good grace to die. Rorr left him impaled on the sword and returned to the camp. None of the soldiers had stirred from the commotion, but that didn't mean the other sentry hadn't been alerted. He circled the camp once more, approaching the distant picket high in the tree.

He heard snoring before he got close enough to reach up and grab the man's ankle. With a quick jerk, he dislodged the man, who fell heavily to land belly-down. Rorr dropped so his knee drove into the small of the man's back, pinning him. With a quick move, he reached around the struggling man's throat, caught his chin, and twisted hard to the side. The man died immediately.

Rorr stepped back, panting with the exertion. He felt a little sick to his stomach at the deaths, then remembered what these brigands had done to the Torvans. The entire family might have been murdered. If they hadn't, they had been driven away from their land and harvest. It was not a choice he would want to make.

He sighed. He knew how he would respond if it came to that. He would leave the homestead behind to save Beeah and the boys. Cursing Thom Torvan for making a similar decision did no good.

He looked through the trees and saw the first hint of dawn—it was likely false dawn, the lightening before a deeper darkness followed by the sun creeping above the horizon. Time crushed down on him as surely as he had thrust his knee into the dead soldier's back.

Moving faster, making more noise, he returned to the camp. Most of the sleeping men held their swords or lay alongside them, making removal difficult. He poked through the contents of their gear, taking each bowstring he found. The knife slid from its sheath on the back of his buckler and chopped the strings into short pieces. He found the longbows and similarly tended to their strings. Then he began sawing and hacking at the arrows in quivers. A hundred arrows he broke or cut the fletching off.

Only one arrow had been dipped in the oily black substance that had ignited Torvan's granary. Rorr lifted it from a separate quiver and peered at it in the darkness. A skin sheath prevented air from touching the incendiary liquid. He slung the quiver over his shoulder and settled the arrow, not sure how he could use it.

He took one last look around the camp and knew he had destroyed what he could. The remaining six fighters began to stir as daylight filtered through the trees. Rorr walked steadily to the horses tethered to a rope. His knife rose and came down, its sharp edge slicing through the restraining rope. He waved his arms and spooked the horses.

As they ran off, the men in camp realized something was seriously wrong. They drew swords and reached for bows.

Rorr laughed at the archers' impotence, but the swordsmen came for him, yelling to be sure all their companions were awake and alert to the danger.

He swung, used his buckler to deflect the nearest soldier's thrust, then stepped close and drove his blade up under the lowest rib and into a beating heart. Before he yanked the blade free, that heart ceased throbbing. The warrior fell to the ground.

He saw the other five note his expertise, coming to the realization that only through united action might they continue to live.

"To his flanks! Move, damn your eyes!" The soldier bellowing orders from the center was either an officer or someone the others obeyed without question.

Rorr reached into the quiver and used the edge of his blade to peel away the skin sheath around the fire arrow. He waved it around above his head until it ignited. For a moment, the fighters retreated.

He laughed loudly. The light from the fire arrow cast shadows on his face, turning him into something less than human. The instant of their hesitation would be short. He flung the arrow directly at the officer, forcing him to dance back.

In the confusion, Rorr stepped into the forest, found a trail, and fell into a ground-devouring stride. The brigands were slower following, giving him the chance to pop into a clearing, get his bearings off the rising sun, then strike out directly for his own horse.

He stepped up into the saddle and wheeled the mount around just as three pursuers burst out of the woods after him. Rorr had no reason to fight them. They were without horses, at least until they tracked them down.

His heels raked the horse's flanks and set it galloping in the direction of his farm.

This skirmish was not a battle. The true battle would come when Lord Suvarian learned of his men's failure. Rorr had to prepare his family for the final fracas. Either they would defeat Suvarian, or Rorr and his family would die.

He put his head down and rode faster for his farm.

Coming Next Week: Blood in the fields in the final installment of Robert E. Vardeman's "Plow and Sword."

Robert E. Vardeman is the author of more than fifty science fiction and fantasy novels, including both original series such as Cenotaph Road, War of Powers, and Swords of Raemllyn, as well as tie-in novels for such notable properties as Tom Swift, God of War, Battletech, Star Trek, and Magic: The Gathering. He has been nominated for the Hugo Award for Best Fan Writer, and is one of the founders of the New Mexico science fiction convention Bubonicon. For more information, visit his website.

Art by Carlos Villa.

Outmaneuvered II: Revenge of the Grappled

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

About a month ago I was punished... er.., I mean rewarded with the task of answering questions about combat maneuvers in the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game. The blog was so well received that I quickly promised to do another one in short order. Well, projects flew by, and I got pulled away, and short order dragged out into weeks, but now I'm back, and here to answer more pressing questions about combat maneuvers.

Ready?

Illustration by Tyler Walpole

Question: What kind of attacks can you make while you are being grappled? Specifically, if I'm being grappled, can I forgo escaping the grapple to make a full-attack action with a natural, unarmed attack, or attack with light weapon, getting any and all iterative attacks if possible with that action?

Yes. Furthermore, you don't even have to make these attacks against the creature grappling you. While do suffer the normal –2 penalties on attack rolls while grappled, and you are limited in the types of attacks you can make, you gain all the normal attack rolls such an action would normally give you against any creature within your reach.

If you're the one grappling the creature, you can also make your normal attacks, but realize that this ends the grapple. Most of the time you're better off selecting the grapple option that allows you to deal damage to your target as a single unarmed attack, natural attack, or an attack with a light weapon. While you do not get more damage potential based on any iterative attacks, you do not have to make an attack roll. The damage is automatic with the successful grapple check. And let's face it; if you're performing this maneuver, chances are you're pretty good at it.

Lastly, while it should go without saying, keep in mind that attacks of opportunity are not possible while you are grappled, unless you have some feat or other effect that specifically allows them in that condition.

Question: Both the bull rush and drag combat maneuvers say that you have to move the foe in a straight line either forward or backward, depending on the combat maneuver you are performing. What exactly does that mean if the person performing the maneuver is moving diagonally?

When one of these maneuvers tells you to move a foe forward or backward in a straight line, start by placing a point in the middle of your space and make a line to the center of your target's space. Then extend that line in the direction you are trying to move your foe. If you succeed in performing the maneuver you can move your foe into any square that line crosses, depending on how much movement your check grants you.

In the case of a bull rush, if you do not move into the square your foe occupied, and you move that creature more than 5 feet, you cannot reposition this line based on the opponent's new location. The bull rush continues to follow the original line. But if you do move into a new space as part of the maneuver and then continue to move your foe, you can reposition the line of movement each time you change the location of your space, granting you more options when it comes to your foe's final positioning.

When adjudicating the movement of larger creatures, this system may create movement that seems out of the ordinary or conceptually improbable. Your GM has final discretion when determining what squares you can bull rush or drag a creature into or out of.

Stephen Radney-MacFarland
Pathfinder RPG Designer

The Future of Pathfinder Society Organized Play, Part XVII: Use the Pathfinder Society's Resources To Do Good in the World

Monday, July 11, 2011

When the existence of so many factions within the Pathfinder Society began to become apparent, many were dismayed, especially those who took umbrage at the Society's resources being used for ethically questionable purposes or personal gain. Unable to eliminate such elements as the Shadow Lodge from the ranks of the organization, an influential group of Pathfinder clerics, paladins, and servants of good-aligned deities banded together to form their own faction—the Silver Crusade—as an answer to these undesirable offshoots of the Society. While a crusade in name only, the Silver Crusade models itself after the staunchly good silver dragon, making a valiant effort to use the Society's influence, reach, and resources to do good throughout the Inner Sea region and beyond.

If there's one thing the faction system has taught us since Pathfinder Society Organized Play began just a little less than three years ago, it's that players want to be good guys. Until now, that means most people have been playing Andoren Pathfinders who fight against tyranny, oppression, and slavery. But what about those paladins who don't want to be asked to act against the law or clerics who are less concerned with politics than they are healing the sick and helping the downtrodden?

The answer, of course, is the focus of this week's blog, the fourth of five new factions and one I expect to be very popular among players currently in Andoran only because of lack of other "good" options. This faction is the Silver Crusade, led by Sarenite paladin Ollysta Zadrian, an ex-Pathfinder with countless connections within the organization. While the faction's name may bring to mind knights in shining armor and religious zealotry, it's less a traditional campaign or holy war than a crusade of the mind and motivations—a group of like-minded Pathfinders set on helping one another spread the word and good will of their respective faiths wherever the Decemvirate may send them.

Continuing our previews of Pathfinder Society tie-in content in the forthcoming Pathfinder Society Field Guide, here's a look at one of the faction-specific prestige awards members of the Silver Crusade can purchase with their Prestige Points once they've earned enough Fame.

Beacon of Good (Fame 5, 2 PP) The Shining Crusade gives you a shining wayfinder (see page 55) emblazoned with the emblem of a silver dragon. If you lose your shining wayfinder, you can purchase a new one for an additional 2 PP. Members of the Silver Crusade who are caught selling shining wayfinders for their own profit are exiled, and must switch factions.

Now I bet you're wondering what a shining wayfinder is, right? It wouldn't be much of a tease if I gave you everything, though, would it? Oh, okay. You've been patiently reading these for 17 installments now, so I guess I can give a bit more: a shining wayfinder functions like a normal wayfinder, but also lets the user cast detect evil at will and protection from evil on herself once per day.

That's all you get from me this week, though. No more. You're just going to have to wait until next Monday for me to talk about the fifth and final new faction: the Shadow Lodge! Have a good week, Pathfinders.

Mark Moreland
Developer

Twenty-Eight Years of the Best Four Days in Gaming

Friday, July 8, 2011

	Illustration by Clyde Caldwell

Has it really been 28 years already? It seems like only yesterday that my friend Rich Rydberg and I were setting up our tent at a campground in Kenosha, Wisconsin, and excitedly talking about our first Gen Con. The year was 1984, and Rich was in my AD&D group at St. Olaf College, in Northfield, Minnesota. For the previous three years, we had seen all the coverage on Gen Con in Dragon magazine and dreamed about going to the king of all conventions, but it took until 1984 for all the stars to align.

The convention wasn't very big back in those days. The Parkside gymnasium where the dealer hall was located was hot as heck. But you could see all the luminaries of gaming easily. I ran into Gary Gygax the first day I was at the con! I even got Clyde Caldwell to draw a picture of my first D&D character, and it sits on my wall here at work. The biggest discovery for Rich and me was the RPGA. Since this was our first convention, we had registered for a bunch of random AD&D games, and boy were some of them bad. We hadn't realized how good our home game was compared to some of the games we played in at the con. RPGA changed all that with great adventures run by some of the best DMs in the business!

The RPGA became the center of my Gen Con world for the next four years as the convention moved to the MECCA convention center in Milwaukee. I literally played RPGA events from early morning on Thursday until the last slot on Sunday. Frank Mentzer ran me through The Temple of Elemental Evil. I got to play in the first Oriental Adventures tournament. And slowly, I rose to the top, becoming one of the first Grand Masters and eventually Paragon players.

Now, RPGA tournaments were a lot different back then. This was before Living City, so all the tournaments were either skill challenges like the AD&D Open, or they were roleplaying-based tournaments, where you were given a random character and you had to roleplay it on the spot, and at the end of the tournament, your fellow players graded all the players at the table, with the one with the highest total winning that table!

Of course, it wasn't all RPGA. One convention, I got to play in the first public game using the AD&D Battlesystem, and Rich and my opponents were none other than Ed Greenwood of Forgotten Realms fame, and Mike Nystul, whose character created Nystul's magic aura among other things.

My RPGA years came to an abrupt end when I started my first gaming company, Lion Rampant. In 1987, we released Whimsy Cards and the highlight of my show was selling a pack to Dave Arneson. The next year, we came out with Ars Magica and it won Best Game of the Year in the RPGA Gamer's Choice Awards. I'll never forget Rich yelling at me from across the dealer hall as he raced from the RPGA breakfast banquet carrying our trophy.

	The First Wizards of the Coast Booth

The years went by and Gen Con became a business convention for me. As I entered the business side, I got to meet all of the luminaries of the industry and talk with them as peers. Gen Con was very social, with deals being talked about at the Safe House late at night. I went from Lion Rampant to White Wolf to Wizards of the Coast in the span of five years. Check out the crazy picture of me at the first Wizards of the Coast booth. We shared the booth with a small little internet start-up, America Online. Back then, it was all Talislanta and The Primal Order, but Magic: The Gathering would become the shot heard around the world in 1993.

Magic almost didn't make it to Gen Con in '93. The shipment got delayed in customs and I literally had to have it put on an airplane so that it arrived Saturday morning at the convention. Word had spread of the game and we literally sold it as fast as we could take money and write receipts. The next year, we had lines that wrapped around the convention hall, with people standing in line for many hours to get limited quantities of Arabian Nights, Legends, Antiquities, and The Dark.

One cool Gen Con moment happened one year when the staff of TSR and the rest of the industry agreed to a huge Nerf gun fight in the TSR Castle before the hall opened up for business. All the other companies ganged up on the TSR folks and a ton of fun was had by all as we all blasted each other with Nerf until we laughed ourselves silly. Imagine over 100 of the industry's finest running around screaming like kids. It was magical.

My next favorite Gen Con memory was when I worked the TSR Castle as a member of the TSR staff in 1997 after Wizards of the Coast bought the company. I was one of a handful of WotC employees who stayed in Lake Geneva that summer and became part of the D&D brand team when the staff transitioned to Seattle later that year. But for the summer of 1997, I worked at TSR and tradition was that the TSR staff all worked hard at Gen Con each year. Wearing my TSR shirt and talking fans off the ledge (everyone was worried about what was going to happen to D&D now that WotC had bought it) in the TSR Castle are moments I will always cherish!

At Gen Con 1999, I was part of the team that announced the impending release of the third edition of D&D the next year. We had this huge auditorium where we trotted out guest after guest from Gygax and Arneson to Cook and Adkison. Seeing the excitement as we let a lot of the cats out of the bag was really cool. And then everyone got one of my favorite t-shirts, the one where it had a list of things people didn't like about previous editions that were getting fixed in third.

	The release of the Pathfinder RPG Core Rulebook at Gen Con 2009.

2002 was my first Gen Con as an owner of Paizo. We had a small table in the WotC booth, where we sold subscriptions to Dragon, Dungeon, and Star Wars Insider. 2003 had us schlepping Silver Boba Fetts. 2004 was the year of the Undefeated cheerleaders. 2005 saw the mountain of Shackled City hardcovers. 2006 saw the release of our GameMastery line of system independent products.

Another great moment was 2007, the year we launched the Pathfinder Adventure Path line. Knowing that Dragon and Dungeon were going away, but that we had this awesome line of adventure product that included some of the best folks in the industry, was satisfying. 2008 saw the release of the Pathfinder RPG Beta. All of us were floored when we sold out of the print version of our Beta playtest. I thought we would be burning the unsold copies. Now it is a collector's item!

Of course, the year 2009 saw the release of the Pathfinder RPG Core Rulebook. The buzz had been amazing building up to this release, but we weren't prepared for the rush of people trying to be the first to buy the book. The Paizo staff ran around like shepherds, trying to tame a semblance of order into 500+ people descending on the booth at the same time. By the time the line went around the booth and into the art show area, I knew something had to happen. So Erik and I grabbed a bag and offered to let people give us $60, get their book, and get out of the line. Many people took us up on that offer.

Now 2011 Gen Con is just a few weeks away. I wonder what stories will be crafted from the Best Four Days in Gaming this year?

Lisa's Gen Con Pictures

Lisa at Gen Con 1992.	Lisa at Gen Con during the WotC years.	Lisa at Paizo's first booth at Gen Con 2002.	Lisa at the Paizo booth at Gen Con 2004.	Paizo staff at Gen Con 2006.

Lisa Stevens
Paizo CEO

Golarion Day: Where Do the Goblins Live?

Thursday, July 7, 2011

There's a lot of fun information about goblins in the upcoming Pathfinder Player Companion, Goblins of Golarion—things like new character traits, goblin spells and magic, goblin feats, some new subdomains, and lots of fun tidbits about what it is to be a goblin in the first place. One thing I'm particularly delighted we got to do, though, was include a section that talks about all of the significant (and some not-so-significant) goblin tribes of the Inner Sea region. Check out this map that lists their locations. They're all over the place!

Cartography by Rob Lazzaretti

James Jacobs
Creative Director

Plow and Sword

by Robert E. Vardeman

Chapter Two: The Lord's Due

Rorr exploded through the wall of flames and stumbled past, finding relative cool beyond. The fire arrow had not yet spread its fury deeper into the granary, but he knew that the building and its grain stores were already far past saving.

"Fren!"

"Pa! Over here!"

Rorr followed the faint sound, again grimly satisfied that his stepson once more called him father. That was an obstacle he had long sought to overcome. His brother's son was not his own. How could he be both uncle and father to the boy? Yet he wanted to. It had proven difficult for all of them—Beeah especially, since she had to see her children's father reflected in him. Rorr knew he was a pale reflection of Ulane, but the resemblance was still there.

"This way! I can't get the door open!"

Rorr coughed as he skirted the bin of grain. Torvan had the central bin filled and had left a path around it, possibly to afford easier access to the oldest grain first. He passed more than one portal that might open to pour out a steady flow of the harvest wheat.

Gasping for breath, he ran into Fren before he saw him. The smoke had become too thick, and his eyes watered.

"It's a door to the outside, but I can't open it. I tried to go back, but the flames—!"

Rorr threw back the latch, but the door refused to open. He hunkered down, then blasted out, shoulder smashing through the wood. For a moment he thought he would be held captive in the center of the door. Then the hinges broke and he tumbled outside. Smoke billowed out.

"Are you all right?" Fren laughed without humor. "The door swung inward, not out. We were—"

Rorr extracted himself from the wood, splinters poking from his body like porcupine quills. He scooped up his stepson and ran, ignoring the boy's frantic attempts to break from his grasp. Gasping from exhaustion, he finally dropped Fren and pointed.

"Horse. Get on. "

"I'm not a child! You—"

Rorr once more engulfed his stepson in a powerful hug and clumsily mounted. Even before he had his seat, his heels raked at the horse's flanks, getting it moving. The horse had barely gone fifty yards when the granary exploded like the very sun. Burning grain cascaded down in fiery flutters around them. Rorr kept the horse trotting along at its top speed. Only when the roar diminished did he slow and turn to look back.

"What happened?" Fren coughed and wiped soot from his face. "The grain?"

"The dust catches fire easily. Trapped inside the granary, it exploded."

"You knew that would happen?"

"I've seen such things before." Rorr said. In truth, he had loosed such a ferocious storm on others before, for the same reason as the brigands.

"What are we going to do?"

Rorr let his stepson find a less awkward seat on the horse. He took a deep breath to clear his lungs, then said, "We search for the Torvans, but I don't think we will find them."

"Do you think they got away before the soldiers came?"

Rorr said nothing.

∗ ∗ ∗

"There was nothing you could do to save the grain?"

Rorr smiled a little at his wife's question. Always the practical one, Beeah. He shook his head.

"Since you found no trace of them, I can only assume they simply left."

"Ma, it wasn't like that. There were these soldiers, and Pa stood up to them." Fren looked at Rorr with a glimmer of respect. "He saved me when the granary caught fire."

Rorr hadn't bothered relating the details. Letting Beeah know only what was necessary seemed most prudent. Worry over brigands and the like served no purpose, now that the attackers lay dead.

"We need to finish plowing," he said. "As much fun as speculating about Thom Torvan and his family might be, it does nothing to prepare us for the winter."

"He's right," Beeah said, lips drawn into a disapproving line. "No time to waste now. We can sit around the fire this winter and spin wild tales of how Thom and Ganley are off somewhere with that brood of theirs, enjoying the fine weather on a southern beach."

"But Ma, those men were killers. They—"

"Work, young man. Now. You too, Rayallan. You weren't finished sorting through the onions."

"Aw, Ma, there aren't any rotten ones."

"Then start with the potatoes. Small ones in one pile, larger ones in another."

The two boys went off, but Beeah reached out and stopped her husband. He winced, just a little, as her fingers gripped his forearm.

"What really happened there?" She peeled back his bloody sleeve to reveal the wound he had field-bandaged before returning. "Are the Torvans dead?"

"Didn't find bodies. They might be dead." He forced a smile. "Or they might be relaxing on that southern beach, waiting for winter to freeze our bones so they'll have a laugh on us."

Beeah started to say something, hesitated, then muttered, "You're just like Ulane."

"We are—were—brothers," he said, unsure of what else to say.

"The plague did so much damage. I thought we were safe. The Torvans, not a one of them caught it. No one else this side of Pitax caught it."

"Except Ulane." Rorr hugged her, then pushed back as he became self-conscious about such a display of affection. He realized he was trying to convince himself that the past meant nothing, and that the future didn't hold a fate like the Torvans'. "There're fields to be plowed, and I don't trust Fren to cut a straight row."

"With that worthless horse, how could he? It wanders from side to side like a drunken gnome. Get on, now." Making her words light did nothing to brighten the darkness in Beeah's eyes. Rorr quickly left.

He could deal with a balky plow horse, or the annoying worms that gnawed at the roots of his crop. Even the brigands who had plundered the Torvan farm.

That last worried at him as he walked slowly to the field. Brigands would have stolen, not destroyed. Selling such bounty in Port Ice would have brought enough wealth to keep them in whores and ale for the entire winter. Something about the destruction wasn't right.

"All hitched and ready to plow," Fren called, seeing him approach.

"Why didn't you begin? There're miles of rows to be plowed." He bent, caught up a thick, dry clod and tossed it playfully at his stepson. Fren dodged it easily.

"The horse wants you and nobody else."

"That's an inventive excuse. Get to moving the rocks at the far side of the field into a stack so I can keep a straight row."

Rorr slid the reins over his shoulder, took the plow handles, and called to the horse to begin pulling. As terrible a riding horse as this one was, it had strength and surefootedness in the field, and more often than not it dropped a load to help with fertilizing. The first two long rows went well, with the brittle husks cut and turned under the soil to rot and give sustenance to new crops in the spring. On the third, Rorr stopped and stared.

His eyesight was keen, and the approaching riders became visible minutes before his son saw them. Then even the boy could not miss the riders.

"Who are they, Pa?"

"Don't say a word when they get here. No matter what I say, you obey instantly. Understood?"

"But—"

"Understand?" The edge in his voice made the boy recoil, then nod slowly.

	"A thief in livery is still a thief."

Rorr stepped away from the plow, wiped sweat from his forehead, then faced the four riders. All wore tabards with the same coat of arms he had seen on the brigand's shield. He started to order Fren to the house, but the lead rider motioned and another rode to a position where such retreat would be cut off.

"Stay close," Rorr said in a low voice. Louder, "Who might you be?"

"Soldiers of Lord Suvarian, peasant. Show respect for vassals of your lord."

"There's no lord to rule over this land. This stretch of the River Kingdoms hasn't had royalty to govern it since the last border war."

"That has changed. Suvarian claims this land all the way to Brevoy."

"The farm is mine. By edict of Duke Gessmen."

"Who is dead in a border skirmish. How is it you claim ownership through a duke long deceased, yet deny Lord Suvarian's rule?" The soldier rode closer. Soot lay heavy on his tabard, disguising much of the gerfalcon rampant coat of arms. The man wore leather armor beneath and carried his sword in a scabbard slung from his saddle and under his left leg. The scar on his face, his lean body and quick, nervous movements, told of a soldier anticipating battle.

"I want only to farm my land in peace."

"Peace," the rider said, sneering. "There can be none as long as you befoul Lord Suvarian's land."

"This is my land," Rorr said stubbornly.

"Pa, he—"

"Quiet," Rorr snapped. He saw the outrider's amused expression, but the soldier watched like the bird sigil on his chest. It would take but an instant to draw his sword and swoop down should Fren bolt for the house.

"My lord—your lord—claims all this land for grazing. He has a vast herd and supplies the war effort along the Sellen."

"Then grain would be in demand. I can sell—"

"Milord doesn't want your filthy grain. It's not even fit for his cattle. If you leave this land now, it will return to grass by the summer and provide proper fodder."

"Where would you have us go?" Fren pushed past Rorr and stared at the soldier, too young and foolish to understand fear.

"What does it matter? Leave. Your neighbors have departed."

"The Torvans? Where are they?" Rorr saw the smirk and how the warrior unconsciously touched the soot on his armor.

"It doesn't matter. Perhaps they have gone to the Boneyard. If you want to avoid meeting them in Pharasma's sweet embrace, leave."

"No!" Fren jerked free of his stepfather and moved forward, fists small and bony.

"One of them has sand in the gizzard," another soldier said, amused.

"Give him a sword, Darrotte," ordered the leader. "I would see if their skill matches their fine words."

The warrior reached behind his saddle and whipped out a short sword. He held it high to catch the sun, flashed it in Rorr's direction, then sent it wheeling through the air. It landed point down in the plowed ground at Rorr's feet.

Rorr held Fren back to keep him from seizing it. "We're farmers," he said. "What chance would we have against four warriors?"

"The best in Lord Suvarian's army," bragged the leader.

"It would be doubly foolish for a farmer to fight you, then."

"They would drive us from our land!" Fren showed his outrage, but Rorr tightened his grip to hold the boy back.

"Keep the sword. You might need it—as you leave Lord Suvarian's pastureland!" The leader laughed, pulled hard on his horse's reins and motioned for his men to follow. They galloped away.

Only when they were out of sight did Rorr release his stepson.

"You can't let them chase us away. This was my father's land! My real father!" Fren's eyes welled with unshed tears of rage.

"This is what I think of their weapons." Rorr yanked the sword from the dirt, placed the point at an angle against the ground, and stomped down hard. The blade broke raggedly a few inches above the hilt. Rorr flung the piece in his hand as far away from him as he could.

"Coward," Fren grated. He ran for the house.

Rorr let the boy go. It would do no good to explain that these four meant nothing. They were messengers only.

But messengers could be dangerous. Rorr heaved a deep sigh, then returned to his plowing. The cold wind blowing from the north chilled him more than ever.

∗ ∗ ∗

Rorr poked at the food on his plate. Both Fren and Rayallan had chosen not to sit at the table with him. He understood but did not approve. He looked up at Beeah and said, "This is our land."

"It's Ulane's," she said, not meeting his gaze. "There's no reason for you to fight for it."

"It's our land," he said harshly. "Ulane is dead. Would you have me die at the end of a sword wielded by those brigands?"

"Fren said they were a lord's officers. Knights."

"You would have me fight them? Or give in to them? Make up your mind."

"Do as you see fit. You always do." Beeah threw down her spoon and left Rorr alone at the table. He dropped his own spoon and went outside into the cold night air. The stars burned brightly above, and he made out the patterns he had used for so long to navigate. The pointers showing the route northward beckoned.

"This is my farm," he said as he looked over darkened fields. It mattered little to him whether the thief called himself a lord or a brigand. Theft was theft, and he would not be chased away.

He went to the barn, saw a shovel Fren had left out, and picked it up. The night's dew would cause the tool to rust, but he didn't put it away inside the barn. Instead he walked, slowly at first and then with longer strides, to the small hill a hundred yards behind the house. At the summit he looked down at the grave.

He had buried his brother here. Then he had married his brother's wife. Rorr had not intended that, but he had come to love Beeah. He was less sure of her affection for him. A widow with two young children faced a difficult life.

The past year had been good. Crops, improvement on barn and house, long days and enjoyable nights—he thought enjoyable for them both, though he could never tell.

This was his land. His family's.

Voices carried up from downslope. Swords glinting in the starlight, two men made their way toward his barn. Their words drifted up to him.

"...burn him out."

"We should kill them all, as we did the others. Suvarian would approve."

"You're a bloodthirsty one, Darrotte."

Rorr heard admiration, not denunciation, in that simple statement. He gripped his shovel with both hands and hurried down the hill toward the barn.

The two soldiers heard his approach and greeted him with leveled swords.

"The farmer must be sleepwalking," Darrotte said. "Why else would he confront two of Lord Suvarian's warriors?"

His companion chuckled. "We dare not tell the lord of this one's death. He would accuse us of drowning kittens."

"You have one chance only," Rorr said, squaring off and lifting the shovel. "Leave and I won't kill you."

"Ho! A threat! He won't hurt us!"

"I said I won't kill you," Rorr clarified.

Darrotte smiled. "No, plowboy. You won't."

The soldier with Darrotte rushed forward, sword lifted for the kill. Rorr saw flashes of light and shadow, but the path of the sword was obvious. He swung the shovel, deflecting the sword off its blade with a long blue spark. The impact staggered the soldier, letting Rorr sidestep, then thrust out his foot.

The soldier crashed to the ground and the cutting edge of the shovel descended, chopping into the back of his exposed neck. The slight resistance of the yielding spine signaled another death at Rorr's hand.

The farmer ducked, avoided Darrotte's savage circular slash, then drove forward, arms circling the warrior's waist. With a grunt, Rorr stood and squeezed. Hard. The sudden constriction caused Darrotte to drop his sword.

Rorr tightened his hold around the small of the man's back even more. Work-hardened muscles driven by fury powered his grip. The sound of thunder drowned out the man's cries. Rorr felt something give. He relaxed, dropped the still living man to the ground.

"My back. You broke it." Darrotte's voice was tight with pain and fear, but strangely calm. "You will die, farmer. My lord will kill you slowly."

"No," Rorr said, picking up the shovel. "He won't."

The edge of the blade rose and fell.

Rorr stepped back and looked at the two dead men. They should be buried, but to what purpose? Not to hide their deaths, certainly. Lord Suvarian had sent them on a mission. When they didn't return, others would be dispatched.

With these deaths, Rorr realized, the fight was not over. It had just begun.

Coming Next Week: Screams in the night in Chapter Three of Robert E. Vardeman's "Plow and Sword."

Robert E. Vardeman is the author of more than fifty science fiction and fantasy novels, including both original series such as Cenotaph Road, War of Powers, and Swords of Raemllyn, as well as tie-in novels for such notable properties as Tom Swift, God of War, Battletech, Star Trek, and Magic: The Gathering. He has been nominated for the Hugo Award for Best Fan Writer, and is one of the founders of the New Mexico science fiction convention Bubonicon. For more information, visit his website.

Art by Carlos Villa.

Surviving Dagon...

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

If you've ever crawled out from the depths of the Abyssal sea of Ishiar after battling Dagon and his infinite number of monstrous creations for days on end, you may have an idea of what finals week of my last quarter at Western was like. The stress was immense, and I'm just as confused as you are as to what the Shadow in the Sea was doing in Bellingham, Washington. Nonetheless, I emerged victorious—or at least alive. When I found out I got the job for Pathfinder Developer at Paizo a few weeks later, it was like breaking through the Outer Rifts and finding myself in Elysium. I'd done it! I'd finished college and gotten the job and was now working in the same offices as the authorial titans of roleplaying lore! Hooray!

I'd gotten a taste of what it was like to work among the titans over a year ago, while I was Editorial Intern at Paizo. I shared a cube with Crystal, and it was a bit quieter around the office, and I was paralyzed most days with excitement and anxiety at the mere prospect of being in the same building as all these writers whose names I had seen countless times on the books among my shelves at home.

Now, I share a cube with the editors, Judy, James, and Chris, and Wes says I'll be moving over to the developer side in a while. It's not as quiet in the office, since the company's grown a lot even since just last year, and there are a ton of new faces since I last stepped foot in the building. It's exciting to work alongside both people I've worked with before and those whose names I've only seen in print, and I'm looking forward to contributing my humble services alongside these industry giants. They've got me working hard already, and I'm currently concentrating on Faiths of Corruption and the Jade Regent Player's Guide, which are going to be totally sweet, let me tell you.

While my joining the Paizo team is pretty exciting in and of itself (I'm excited anyway!), I am also pleased to report that the PRD has been updated to include rules from both Bestiary 2 and Ultimate Magic. Check it out!

Patrick Renie
Developer

The Future of Pathfinder Society Organized Play, Part XVI: Use Pathfinder Missions as a Front for Personal Gain

Monday, July 4, 2011

A loose affiliation of Varisian swindlers, thieves, and smugglers, the Sczarni don't have much in common with the average Pathfinder. But to many, there's little distinction between someone who robs the grave of an ancestor and someone who cons one out of her night's dinner. Thus, when Sczarni and Pathfinders come to town, both are often lumped into the same category by suspicious natives and watchful legal authorities—troublesome people to watch out for. Though not officially allied, many Pathfinders work with local Sczarni throughout the region to aid one another in surviving, hopefully gaining a leg up in their own endeavors in the process.

Since the earliest days of Pathfinder, Varisians have been a large part of the world. We did, after all, start out with three Adventure Paths set in Varisia. So it was only natural that we include a faction aligned with what is arguably our most thoroughly developed part of Golarion. But we didn't just want an ethnic Varisian faction, as we'd then need Ulfen, Kellid, Mwangi, and Garundi factions as well. Similarly, a political faction didn't seem right given the fractured nature of Varisia's three major city-states, as we would have had to choose which city would get a faction and which wouldn't. So we started to think about what elements of Varisian life most aligned with the Pathfinder Society.

The Sczarni seemed to fit quite well, so we went with them. I swear there was no knee-breaking involved in the decision. People have, after all, been asking for a long time to make Sleight of Hand checks as their Day Job rolls. The fact that people wanted to play pickpockets and con artists seemed fairly obvious. We expect this faction to appeal to people currently playing Taldor-faction PCs, and many of its faction missions will deal with deception and pilfering with a more criminal than political manipulation bent.

Anyone who's played the Pathfinder Society Quest: Ambush in Absalom will recognize the faction's head, a man named Guaril Karela, who operates all of Absalom's Sczarni activity out of his dockside curiosity shop, the Pickled Imp. He'll likely assist the Pathfinder Society in getting goods or people past unfriendly city watchmen, through hostile territory, or even out of some legal binds they may find themselves in. If he and those agents loyal to him happen to make some money along the way, how does that hurt anyone else?

That brings our new factions revealed to three, leaving just two more to go before Gen Con! Next week, we'll look at the Silver Crusade, the new "good guy" faction that should appeal to paladins, clerics of any good-aligned deity, and characters who want to help others while they travel the world working for the Decemvirate. Until then, all you Americans, enjoy the day off, and we'll see you tomorrow!

Mark Moreland
Developer

Golarion Day: Field Guide Art Preview

Friday, July 1, 2011

In the buildup to our print deadline for Gen Con, we saw a fair amount of book schedules get a bit of "compression," with books that should be being worked on (and thus previewed) a month apart being separated by a few weeks. Or in this case... ONLY a week. Last week we previewed some art from Dungeons of Golarion, but the Pathfinder Society Field Guide is right on its heels! And what kind of field guide would it be if it didn't have a section that talked directly about the things eager new Pathfinders might face in the field? Challenges like daemon-spawning portals, angry dinosaurs, and vengefully violent six-armed animated statues?

Well... no one ever said that being a Pathfinder was easy, I guess.

Illustrations by Maichol Quinto and Florian Stitz

James Jacobs
Creative Director