paizo.com Recent Blog Posts in Erik Monapaizo.com Recent Blog Posts in Erik Mona2011-07-14T19:09:58Z2011-07-14T19:09:58ZTwo Pieces of Tarnished Silver--Chapter Five: Home Fires Burnhttps://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5lc6t?Two-Pieces-of-Tarnished-SilverChapter-Five2011-05-18T17:00:00Z<a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" align="right" border="0" /></a>
<h1>Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</h1>
<p>by Erik Mona</p>
<h2>Chapter Five: Home Fires Burn</h2>
<blockquote>
<p>Aebos's fist crashed into Creeg's jaw with the force of a battering ram. The alchemist made a meek little sound, spun once, and collapsed upon the garden floor. Korm had seen lesser blows from the cyclops's fists snap the necks of men much hardier than Epostian Creeg. Perhaps the punch had killed him. A fitting end for a traitor. </p>
<p>At the foot of the low stair, cloaked in the form of a centaur, Juval cackled loudly. "That was unexpected! How very exciting. I had not known there would be entertainment prior to my collection of the fee."</p>
<p>Korm stepped toward the demon, his hands held palms forward in a submissive gesture. "I am Korm Calladan, and this is my friend, Aebos. We have no quarrel with you, and have come only to negotiate the return of winds to the seas surrounding the <i>Relentless</i> and the kingdom of Nex."</p>
<p>The creature turned its piercing eyes to Korm. Crimson flames smoldered under thick red eyebrows. "The almighty Nex created his demon ships for battle, did he not? This is a war vessel, designed for conquest. What harm does the lack of wind do to the <i>Relentless</i>? I can power the ship through storm and calm alike. If lesser ships are rendered useless, it is to our tactical advantage."</p>
<p>Korm frowned. He had not expected reason from a creature born of multiversal chaos. Convincing Juval to abandon its gambit without giving up the bag of treasure was bound to be more difficult than simply asking nicely, but Korm wasn't ready to give up yet. If they were to dissuade the demon, he would have to find an angle. And to do that, he had to keep it talking. He decided to start with the obvious.</p>
<p>"So those statues, they're former hosts? Old shells you keep around to remind you of past victories?"</p>
<p>"Oh, no," Juval said, its face masked with scorn. "By the time these wretches invaded my domain I'd long had my fill of human frailties. They were mere invaders. Victims. Three hundred years ago the <i>Relentless</i> ran aground near Lirgen, and over the centuries natives of those rain-cursed lands found their way onto the deck and explored the ship's lower quarters, seeking treasures. Instead they found the lens and their way into my domain. Among the earliest was a snake-haired medusa, whom I inhabited to great effect. Her eyes saw the world more vividly than any I had used before. Better, her form granted me the ability to cast any who beheld it into stone. Here, let me show you."</p>
<p>Juval's centaur form twisted upon itself, the rear legs pushing up into its torso even as the fiery red beard withdrew into a sharpening, increasingly feminine jaw. Korm's mouth fell slack as Juval's mop of ropey hair writhed and undulated, transforming before his eyes into a profusion of squirming green snakes. Juval's arms extended into lanky, gnarled emerald branches tipped with jagged claws.</p>
<p>"No!" cried Epostian Creeg, throwing his hands in front of his face. Korm met Juval's eyes just as the demon's pupils took on an ophidian cast. A dull power seemed to emanate from those hateful eyes, anchoring Korm to the ground and forbidding him from looking away. </p>
<p>The tips of his toes began to ache, and Korm imagined them hardening to gray stone within his boots, the transformation creeping rapidly, inexorably up his legs, over his groin, and into his trunk. He wondered when it would finally kill him. When his frantic heart stopped within a shell of rock? When the march of stone reached his eyes and he could no longer see? Or would the transformation preserve his consciousness so that he might live forever as a statue, feeling minute pain in every chip and scratch over the uncountable years he would spend trapped in this demon's personal Abyss? And when erosion set in, and all that was once Korm Calladan had crumbled to dust, would he still maintain his sense of self? </p>
<p>But Korm's toes did not turn to stone. His heart continued to race in his chest. Juval, now wholly a medusa, cackled with delight.</p>
<p>"You've nothing to fear from my gaze, child," it said in a voice that dripped with newfound femininity yet remained unmistakably that of the demon. "That body died out long ago. I can assume its image now only because it remains in my memory. For I now inhabit a shapechanger, and can become any creature that once was mine. No more can I create statues, but with a thought I can make my own body a gallery of the forms I have worn before.</p>
<p>"No, swordsman. The statues are not reminders of my previous forms. They are something far more useful. They remind me that though I control all aspects of this realm, the keys to its front gate are not in my possession. I must remain ever vigilant against unwanted intruders."</p>
<p>"But we are not unwanted," replied Korm. "Epostian Creeg brought us here. You and he had some kind of deal, didn't you?"</p>
<p>"I do not deal directly with wretches like that dandy on the ground," Juval spat. "My accordance is with his mistress, the Lady Iranez. That she uses intermediaries to deliver my price is a sign of weakness and lack of trust. Most disappointing."</p>
<p>"I also find Creeg most disappointing," Korm said. "But I assure you his offer is not genuine. As far as I can tell, he is acting as his own agent in this. In fact, the Lady Iranez instructed us to deliver a portion of treasure culled from the finest of her personal collection. Aebos, show our host what we have been authorized to deliver."</p>
<p>The cyclops reluctantly reached into the linen sack and withdrew a sturdy platinum tiara bejeweled with a rainbow of scintillating colors. A fine silver necklace chased with glittering rubies looped around the apex of the delicate crown and curled over Aebos's massive thumb to dangle invitingly. </p>
<p>Juval cackled, the snap of its derisive laughter sharper for the chorus of hissing snakes that accompanied it. When finally the demon's pleasure subsided into a fit of rough chuckles, it spoke, shaking its head. "You are a fool. What good does a pretty bracelet or a handful of coins do me here? I am trapped forever in this Hell of my creation, never to visit a market or fancy ball. Wealth as you understand it means absolutely nothing to me."</p>
<p>"I'm certain that we can come to some accommodation," replied Korm.</p>
<p>"As am I," Juval replied. "Creeg spoke true. My accordance with his mistress calls for the delivery of a new, interesting form once every decade. I inhabit that form until I tire of it, at which point I demand a new one." Juval turned briefly toward the murdered satyr atop the garden's central dais. "The last three deliveries Iranez has made have not been sufficiently interesting, and so I have stilled the waters of her beloved homeland until the quality of her offering equals the value of my service."</p>
<p>Aebos began carefully returning his treasures to the linen bag. The corner of Korm's mouth twitched. Things were about to go to hell, he thought, but at least if they managed to get out of here that bag of treasure would accompany them to Quantium.</p>
<p>Korm's mind raced to concoct a way to defeat the demon. If he stalled the creature, perhaps Creeg could rouse himself and come to their aid. Even the thought of pinning their hopes on Epostian Creeg—who had already proven himself their enemy—made Korm's stomach turn. He brought his left hand to rest on the grip of his saber, unsure what to do next. Juval seemed to read his thoughts.</p>
<p>"There is nothing you can do to win the day. The cyclops is already mine. I control every aspect of the world within the lens. I control every aspect of the <i>Relentless</i> itself, down to the finest detail. And now, thanks to eons of effort, I extend my control even to the waters surrounding the ship. And through those waters I control the fate of a nation. You should have known better than attempt to bargain with a demon, Korm Calladan. We are not limited by human frailties, weaknesses, or desires."</p>
<p>There it was again. The demon controlled every aspect not just of this gloomy underworld, but of the ship that surrounded it. Korm smiled. His sword might not be up to the challenge of killing a demon, but perhaps another avenue presented itself.</p>
<p>"Who was Durvin Gest?" asked Korm. </p>
<p>"No one of consequence," snapped Juval, in a manner that suggested otherwise. After a moment's consideration, it continued. "You remind me of him. Lean like a predator. Sword on the right hip, though Gest's was a true blade and not a needle like yours. He was a stronger man than you, from a better era, but the prototype is the same.</p>
<p>"You even have his eyes. Sharp as a forest drake. Gray as a wolf."</p>
<p>"You sound very familiar with those eyes," said Korm. Juval's own eyes flared, but the demon kept its face placid, as if it had barely noticed the comment. The calm extended only as far as its brow, where its serpentine hair writhed in disdain, each tiny ophidian face registering its personal disgust at his impudence. Behind Juval, on the small rise at the center of the valley, the burning manor house flared mightily. Korm felt its warmth on his cheeks.</p>
<p>"I knew him well. In the fifty centuries since a wizard's treachery left me formless and bound eternally within the lens, hundreds of visitors have ventured here—many of them human like you. Pathetic creatures. Frail. Singularly obsessed with protecting their lives yet incapable of doing anything meaningful with them. A human will always, always sell out its principles to preserve its life, but so few manage to think beyond petty concerns like family and community. </p>
<p>"But Durvin Gest was unfettered from sentimentality. He sought to use his ephemeral human life exploring the world, taking in its marvels, and leaving his mark in the form of deeds and tales that would long outlive him.</p>
<p>"A quest of limitless scope requires a vessel of limitless capability, and so Durvin Gest claimed the <i>Relentless</i> by virtue of sword and guile. And in time..." Juval turned to glance at the burning home behind it, "In time, he even conquered me."</p>
<p>Korm raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>"I led the conquering hero all over the world. Around the Horn of Garund, through the straits of lost Azlant, and to the far shores of Arcadia. After every stop, Gest returned here to our home together. He told me of the people he had defeated and the mysteries he had solved. He brought me funerary masks and axeblades and bones and books, eagerly sharing the panorama of a larger world beyond the <i>Relentless</i>. A world I would never truly see. His triumphs became my triumphs. As his image of the world exploded with mystery and wonder, so did mine extend beyond the confines of my eternal prison. Our lives became linked."</p>
<p>Aebos snapped his fingers, finally understanding what Korm was driving at. "The symbol on the dining room wall! That's your doing! You and Durvin Gest had a partnership!"</p>
<p>"We had a <i>bond</i>. I knew that the captain of the <i>Relentless</i> was a truly exceptional human, and so I took on more than just a human form. I attempted to think like a human thinks. To aspire as the greatest of humans might aspire. To be the companion that this exceptional human desired. To be exceptional together."</p>
<p>"Plenty of exceptional humans are trapped on Nex's seas," said Korm. "Because of you I even ate a couple of them. Many more exceptional humans will starve when ships can't reach port. You've got to put an end to this." Slowly, deliberately, Korm withdrew his slender blade from its scabbard. "And if you don't, we're going to have to kill you."</p>
<p>Juval threw back its medusa head in a wicked laugh. "You do remind me of him, Korm Calladan. Curious and confident to the point of recklessness. You came here, to a world I command to face off with a creature older than your race's eldest empire. And you come in the company of a lout and an addict, wielding nothing but an unmagicked blade."</p>
<p>"I object!" said Korm. "Aebos is far from a lout."</p>
<p>"Even in the face of certain death you remain jovial. Just like him. But Durvin Gest never returned from his final adventure. By now he must be centuries dead."</p>
<p>Behind Juval, the burning manor exploded in a bright conflagration. As the fire cloud lifted, it left behind no sign that the home had ever been there at all. Korm suspected a similar transformation was now taking place in the ship's dining room on the other side of the lens. </p>
<p>"I no longer believe in exceptional humans," said Juval. "The age of the human is over. The form has expired its appeal. I thought a shapechanger would cure the ennui of my imprisonment, and in truth I will miss it. But I find myself limited to only forms I have inhabited before. A shapechanger will come again. In ten years' time I can even demand one from Iranez, or again Nex's waters will fall still.</p>
<p>"But I may never get another chance at a cyclops."</p>
<p>The medusa fell slack and slumped to the ground, its cheek slamming into the edge of a step with a dull thud. While the body itself remained motionless, the details of its appearance undulated and rippled. The brown linen garment lost definition and melded with the body beneath, which grew increasingly gaunt and malnourished. Its serpentine scales smoothed even as the tendrils of its hair withdrew into the skull. The feminine face sagged until it resembled the early outlines of a hollow-eyed bust. Its vacuous mouth hung crooked and low. It was no longer a medusa. </p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Juval.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Juval_500.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="360px"><i>"I think I understand now why Durvin Gest might have chosen Juval as a companion."</i></td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>It was no longer Juval. Korm turned to Aebos to shout a warning, only to realize that he was too late. His friend was down on one knee, bent over and struggling to steel himself against some unseen assault. As the swordsman rushed to his side, Aebos slackened his shoulders and sighed. Korm placed his hand upon his companion's arm. Aebos turned to him.</p>
<p>"They say that the cyclopes can see the future," the demon said in Aebos's voice. An unseen chorus echoed the words. "I wonder if your cyclops ever saw himself with his hands around the throat of his most trusted ally?"</p>
<p>Juval grabbed for Korm, a wicked smile upon its face, murder in its single eye. Korm rolled along the outside of Juval's attack in a move that always confounded Aebos in their many sparring sessions. But the cyclops was no longer Aebos, and Juval seemed prepared for his dodge. It spun to meet Korm's movement, swinging its forearm in a clothesline strike that swept Korm off his feet and put him on his back upon the ground. </p>
<p>Juval looked down at the swordsman and opened its mouth for some further insult, only to double over at the waist, clutching its arms to its stomach. Korm saw anger and confusion on his friend's face. "The form of the cyclops," Juval muttered with difficulty, "it burns! The pain is intolerable!"</p>
<p>Juval fell to both knees and moaned. Korm scrambled away from the demon and got to his feet. It crushed him to see Aebos in so much pain, but he reminded himself that the demon was not Aebos at all. Creeg had said that Juval pushed aside the spirits of the forms it inhabited, so the best he could hope for at the moment was that whatever plagued Juval so terribly had no effect upon his friend. Juval clawed at its stomach, trying to tear a hole in Aebos's leather armor to get at the source of the pain within. From between the demon's outstretched fingers Korm saw a flash of golden radiance that seemed to come from within the cyclops's body. </p>
<p>Juval turned its baleful eye upon Korm, and the swordsman recognized determination on the face of his friend. He immediately felt a blasphemous presence slice its way into his psyche, slashing the bindings between his body and mind and thrusting his consciousness aside. He no longer controlled the movements of his form, but as he sensed his hand reach for the grip of his saber he felt the familiar softness of the supple leather handle and realized that if he could feel texture through his alien hands, Aebos must surely have experienced the horrific pain that had forced Juval to flee. Sword fully drawn now, Juval turned Korm's head to regard the stricken Aebos, pitched over on one side upon the ground. He took a step toward the cyclops and raised the sword for a mighty blow. </p>
<p>Korm felt a sharp scratch in the pit of his stomach. Juval brought his hand to the point of pain, and at the touch a hundred daggers exploded within him. Juval threw back Korm's shoulders and screamed in anguish, his puppetry of Korm's form finally matching exactly the intentions of its owner. Korm felt as if a swarm of insects was tearing him apart from within. </p>
<p>Although Juval seemed reluctant to look directly at it, from his peripheral vision Korm beheld a corona of crackling golden light shining from his abdomen, and he instantly realized what had happened. Creeg had poisoned them both—and himself—from the moment he first had met them, no doubt hoping for exactly this result. Each point where golden fire seemed to scorch his innards away must have been some remnant from one of Epostian Creeg's flakes of golden seasoning. But understanding the source of the pain gave Korm no control over it, and hope vanished within seconds of the excruciating onslaught. Korm realized that the pain that wracked both puppet and master would soon kill them both. Epostian Creeg had won. </p>
<p>Korm was willing to die, if that meant Aebos would live. He had no control over his own body anymore, but perhaps he could extend his mind to touch that of Juval's, find some kernel of goodness that would confound it into remaining in his body long enough for Creeg's golden flakes to do their fatal work on them both. He did his best to push the pain to the back of his mind and opened himself to the imposter dwelling within him. He managed to contact only a tiny sliver of the demon's mind, a thundering abyss of resentment, hatred, arrogance, and anger. Such a mind offered little for him to work with. </p>
<p>Before Korm could formulate a plan, however, the demon slipped away, leaving him in control of his faculties once more. The pain left immediately upon Juval's withdrawal, though Korm felt a warm glow in his stomach that convinced him that Creeg's poison still provided a defense against another possession attempt. His heart jumped as he looked to Aebos, fearing that Juval would make another play for his promised tribute. But Aebos lay gathering his senses on the ground, free of demonic inhabitation. </p>
<p>A flurry of movement on the steps drew Korm's attention to the squirming shapechanger, who writhed in pain on the ground, stomach glowing with a golden radiance. Somehow Creeg's golden flakes had transferred back with it so that even the shapechanger's body had been infected. Not all of the flakes, of course, but enough to constrict Juval in paroxysms of pain. As if summoned by his triumph, Epostian Creeg stepped past Korm to approach Juval.</p>
<p>"You are all fools," he said, dabbing his bloody mouth on the back of his hand. Already an angry bruise marred the side of the face where Aebos had struck him. "Iranez of the Orb has more pressing matters to attend to than placating her demon. You have outlived your usefulness, Juval. We knew that a cyclops would be too tempting a morsel for you, so the Orb found us one. Then it was only a matter of fattening it up with a substance anathema to you, and we knew you would undo yourself. And you did. </p>
<p>"But poison has no command over demons!" cried Juval.</p>
<p>"Indeed it does not," replied Creeg. "But what you have ingested—what's now become a part of you—is not poison at all, but a violation of multiversal law. You act as if you are poisoned because it is a biological process that is killing you. Or killing your mortal form, but that is good enough for our purposes, as your formless soul will die just as surely."</p>
<p>"I—I do not understand," Juval said through gritted teeth. </p>
<p>"When you started causing us trouble, the Lady Iranez ordered me to learn what I could about demons, in particular how to combat their ability to possess victims and steal their bodies. This led me to discover an order of celestial azatas known as the Golden Host, who made war against demons countless aeons ago. They had no natural protections against possession, so they bathed their skin in eldritch extracts anathema to demonkind. When a demon possessed the azata, its soul and the azata's became the same being, trapped within the imprisoning golden skin."</p>
<p>Both Korm and Aebos had regained their senses and approached Epostian Creeg and Juval. The alchemist continued his narration, as much to brag to his companions as to inform the demon of its impending fate. "This process violated the fundamental rules that govern the multiverse. A creature of utter good or utter evil is either one thing or the other. A demon cannot also be a celestial. So the multiverse compensates by erasing the contradiction. And thus did the azatas of the Golden Host discover a method to poison the unpoisonable. A fascinating study in alchemy I might never have discovered if not for you. Go to your oblivion knowing that you have my most sincere appreciation."</p>
<p>"These creatures are not of the Golden Host," declared Juval through the shapechanger's gritted teeth. </p>
<p>"Of course not," Creeg scoffed. "Such a creature would never accede to subterfuge, and would never agree to our plan. So I didn't even bother asking it. I simply summoned the creature, murdered it, and dried its skin for later ingestion by our bait." At that word, the alchemist smiled a blood-soaked grin at Aebos.</p>
<p>"Just think, Juval. If you had truly been one of those humans you hate so much, you would have been perfectly safe from our plan. I hope it makes your blood boil to know that in the end, it was one of us that finished you."</p>
<p>The shapechanger's image rippled and twisted, refining itself into the form of a beautiful human woman with luxurious long red hair to match the familiar crimson eyes. The indistinct body smoothed and took on the curves of a shapely human woman garbed in the clothes and gear of a traveling adventurer. </p>
<p>"I was human once," Juval said in a soft, feminine tone wholly free from the muffled chorus that had previously accompanied everything the demon said. "I could learn to be again." It turned to look Korm straight in his gray eyes. "This is how Durvin Gest saw me. How I truly am."</p>
<p>Aebos hesitated. Korm reached into the pouch at his side and clutched the cylinder of glass containing the rest of Creeg's golden flakes.</p>
<p>"Do not trust it," Korm said. "I have touched its mind. There is nothing good left in it." </p>
<p>Epostian Creeg gasped as he recognized the thin golden flakes contained within the jar in Korm's fist. The swordsman stepped back to get the most of his swing and punched Juval in the face so hard that his hand shattered its teeth and penetrated its mouth. He withdrew his hand rapidly, wincing as the demon's jagged mess of a mouth cut furious channels in his bare flesh. But he left the smashed jar within. Aebos closed both hands around Juval's head and, for good measure, shook the demon violently to ensure even distribution of the flakes. </p>
<p>The creature's form shifted urgently as it jerked around in the cyclops's clutches. The fingers of the demon's hands melded and sharpened into cruel talons, which tore handfuls of flesh from Aebos's shoulders and arms. The cyclops released his grip and backed away from the fight. All detail fled Juval's form, which once again assumed the shapechanger's emaciated natural frame. With a surprising burst of energy, it lashed out at Creeg, throwing the alchemist fifteen feet away to land with a sickening crunch. Juval spat a dollop of blood upon the stairs and spoke through broken teeth in a raspy, desperate voice.</p>
<p>"You have hurt me, worms. Worse than any mortals have managed before, but I am afraid I have digested all of your foul meal, and yet I live. Perhaps an ounce more and I would have been undone. But I am not so greedy as to inhabit any of you again. I will have to content myself with tearing you limb from limb. A pity that you have no more of Creeg's poison."</p>
<p>Korm rushed Juval, saber raised for a deadly slash. On the downswing, Juval caught the blade in the palm of its hand, instantly heating the metal to soft, useless slag. The demon slapped Korm across the face with a backhand, sending him sprawling on the verge of unconsciousness.</p>
<p>With a touch of triumph to his movement, Juval spun to face Aebos on the ground, only to find himself looking directly into the eye of the cyclops. A wide grin split Aebos's massive head.</p>
<p>"I've been eating Creeg's poison since breakfast yesterday, and I have plenty left here in my belly. But I'm more than willing to share."</p>
<p>With that, Aebos opened his mouth and brought the index finger of his left hand to the back of his throat. Almost immediately, the cyclops let loose a powerful torrent of vomit directly in Juval's face, filling the demon's slack-jawed mouth. Even from where he lay upon the ground, Korm could see the sparkle of tiny golden flakes within the spray.</p>
<p>The golden glow at the pit of Juval's stomach spread across the whole of its body, and when the flash of light slowly faded, nothing of the demon or the shapechanger remained but the dying echoes of an all-too-human scream. </p>
<p><center>∗ ∗ ∗</center></p>
<p>From the deck of the <i>Relentless</i>, Korm and Aebos looked on as Iranez's crew put the <i>Queen's Lament</i> to the torch. A strong wind spread the fire quickly to the mainsail, which erupted into a curtain of flame. Iranez of the Orb and Epostian Creeg stood upon the bridge atop the sleek demon ship, while the boat's crew rigged enormous sails upon its impossibly thin masts for what must have been the first time in ages.</p>
<p>Korm clasped the bag of treasure tightly. Iranez had looked disappointed upon their return, but proved true to her word, allowing them to keep what they had earned. Even now Korm felt the <i>Relentless</i> pulling away from the <i>Queen's Lament</i>, catching the fresh westerly wind that would bring them to Quantium. </p>
<p>"Aebos, my friend," he said. "I think we are finally getting free of our troubles. It's all uphill from here. I'm not thrilled about going to Quantium, but at least we're moving."</p>
<p>Aebos shrugged. "I am eager to reach the city," he confessed. "I don't know about you, Korm, but I could use something to eat. I'm starving."</p>
<br />
<p><b>Coming Next Week</b>: A sneak preview of Robin D. Laws's new Pathfinder Tales novel, <a href="http://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy8kc4"><i>The Worldwound Gambit</i></a>!</p>
<p><i>Erik Mona is the Publisher of Paizo Publishing and one of the primary architects of the Pathfinder campaign setting, as well as the former Editor-in-Chief of </i>Dungeon<i> and </i>Dragon<i> magazines. His previous game books have won numerous awards, and include the <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/35E/v5748btpy82t7"></i>Pathfinder Campaign Setting Gazetteer<i></a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/pathfinderRPG/v5748btpy8ief"></i>The Inner Sea World Guide<i></a>, </i>Expedition to the Ruins of Greyhawk<i>, <a href="https://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy7ym6">"The Whispering Cairn" in </i>Dungeon</i> #124</a> (which kicked off the Age of Worms Adventure Path), and <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/adventurePath/legacyOfFire/v5748btpy8735"></i>Pathfinder Adventure Path #19: Howl of the Carrion King<i></a>, among many others. To find out more about Erik, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Erik-Mona-Author/140667695961838?sk=info" target="nofollow">visit his Facebook page</a>.</i></p>
<p><i>Art by John Stanko.</i><p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, John Stanko, Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver, Pathfinder Tales, demons —><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/monsters/demons">Demons</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/johnStanko">John Stanko</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction/twoPiecesOfTarnishedSilver">Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</a></p><a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" align="right" border="0" /></a>
<h1>Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</h1>
<p>by Erik Mona</p>
<h2>Chapter Five: Home Fires Burn</h2>
<blockquote>
<p>Aebos's fist crashed into Creeg's jaw with the force of a battering ram. The alchemist made a meek little sound, spun once, and collapsed upon the garden floor. Korm had seen lesser blows from the cyclops's fists snap the necks of men much hardier than Epostian Creeg. Perhaps the punch had killed him. A fitting end for a traitor. </p>
<p>At the foot of the low stair, cloaked in the form of a centaur, Juval cackled loudly. "That was unexpected! How very exciting. I had not known there would be entertainment prior to my collection of the fee."</p>
<p>Korm stepped toward the demon, his hands held palms forward in a submissive gesture. "I am Korm Calladan, and this is my friend, Aebos. We have no quarrel with you, and have come only to negotiate the return of winds to the seas surrounding the <i>Relentless</i> and the kingdom of Nex."</p>
<p>The creature turned its piercing eyes to Korm. Crimson flames smoldered under thick red eyebrows. "The almighty Nex created his demon ships for battle, did he not? This is a war vessel, designed for conquest. What harm does the lack of wind do to the <i>Relentless</i>? I can power the ship through storm and calm alike. If lesser ships are rendered useless, it is to our tactical advantage."</p>
<p>Korm frowned. He had not expected reason from a creature born of multiversal chaos. Convincing Juval to abandon its gambit without giving up the bag of treasure was bound to be more difficult than simply asking nicely, but Korm wasn't ready to give up yet. If they were to dissuade the demon, he would have to find an angle. And to do that, he had to keep it talking. He decided to start with the obvious.</p>
<p>"So those statues, they're former hosts? Old shells you keep around to remind you of past victories?"</p>
<p>"Oh, no," Juval said, its face masked with scorn. "By the time these wretches invaded my domain I'd long had my fill of human frailties. They were mere invaders. Victims. Three hundred years ago the <i>Relentless</i> ran aground near Lirgen, and over the centuries natives of those rain-cursed lands found their way onto the deck and explored the ship's lower quarters, seeking treasures. Instead they found the lens and their way into my domain. Among the earliest was a snake-haired medusa, whom I inhabited to great effect. Her eyes saw the world more vividly than any I had used before. Better, her form granted me the ability to cast any who beheld it into stone. Here, let me show you."</p>
<p>Juval's centaur form twisted upon itself, the rear legs pushing up into its torso even as the fiery red beard withdrew into a sharpening, increasingly feminine jaw. Korm's mouth fell slack as Juval's mop of ropey hair writhed and undulated, transforming before his eyes into a profusion of squirming green snakes. Juval's arms extended into lanky, gnarled emerald branches tipped with jagged claws.</p>
<p>"No!" cried Epostian Creeg, throwing his hands in front of his face. Korm met Juval's eyes just as the demon's pupils took on an ophidian cast. A dull power seemed to emanate from those hateful eyes, anchoring Korm to the ground and forbidding him from looking away. </p>
<p>The tips of his toes began to ache, and Korm imagined them hardening to gray stone within his boots, the transformation creeping rapidly, inexorably up his legs, over his groin, and into his trunk. He wondered when it would finally kill him. When his frantic heart stopped within a shell of rock? When the march of stone reached his eyes and he could no longer see? Or would the transformation preserve his consciousness so that he might live forever as a statue, feeling minute pain in every chip and scratch over the uncountable years he would spend trapped in this demon's personal Abyss? And when erosion set in, and all that was once Korm Calladan had crumbled to dust, would he still maintain his sense of self? </p>
<p>But Korm's toes did not turn to stone. His heart continued to race in his chest. Juval, now wholly a medusa, cackled with delight.</p>
<p>"You've nothing to fear from my gaze, child," it said in a voice that dripped with newfound femininity yet remained unmistakably that of the demon. "That body died out long ago. I can assume its image now only because it remains in my memory. For I now inhabit a shapechanger, and can become any creature that once was mine. No more can I create statues, but with a thought I can make my own body a gallery of the forms I have worn before.</p>
<p>"No, swordsman. The statues are not reminders of my previous forms. They are something far more useful. They remind me that though I control all aspects of this realm, the keys to its front gate are not in my possession. I must remain ever vigilant against unwanted intruders."</p>
<p>"But we are not unwanted," replied Korm. "Epostian Creeg brought us here. You and he had some kind of deal, didn't you?"</p>
<p>"I do not deal directly with wretches like that dandy on the ground," Juval spat. "My accordance is with his mistress, the Lady Iranez. That she uses intermediaries to deliver my price is a sign of weakness and lack of trust. Most disappointing."</p>
<p>"I also find Creeg most disappointing," Korm said. "But I assure you his offer is not genuine. As far as I can tell, he is acting as his own agent in this. In fact, the Lady Iranez instructed us to deliver a portion of treasure culled from the finest of her personal collection. Aebos, show our host what we have been authorized to deliver."</p>
<p>The cyclops reluctantly reached into the linen sack and withdrew a sturdy platinum tiara bejeweled with a rainbow of scintillating colors. A fine silver necklace chased with glittering rubies looped around the apex of the delicate crown and curled over Aebos's massive thumb to dangle invitingly. </p>
<p>Juval cackled, the snap of its derisive laughter sharper for the chorus of hissing snakes that accompanied it. When finally the demon's pleasure subsided into a fit of rough chuckles, it spoke, shaking its head. "You are a fool. What good does a pretty bracelet or a handful of coins do me here? I am trapped forever in this Hell of my creation, never to visit a market or fancy ball. Wealth as you understand it means absolutely nothing to me."</p>
<p>"I'm certain that we can come to some accommodation," replied Korm.</p>
<p>"As am I," Juval replied. "Creeg spoke true. My accordance with his mistress calls for the delivery of a new, interesting form once every decade. I inhabit that form until I tire of it, at which point I demand a new one." Juval turned briefly toward the murdered satyr atop the garden's central dais. "The last three deliveries Iranez has made have not been sufficiently interesting, and so I have stilled the waters of her beloved homeland until the quality of her offering equals the value of my service."</p>
<p>Aebos began carefully returning his treasures to the linen bag. The corner of Korm's mouth twitched. Things were about to go to hell, he thought, but at least if they managed to get out of here that bag of treasure would accompany them to Quantium.</p>
<p>Korm's mind raced to concoct a way to defeat the demon. If he stalled the creature, perhaps Creeg could rouse himself and come to their aid. Even the thought of pinning their hopes on Epostian Creeg—who had already proven himself their enemy—made Korm's stomach turn. He brought his left hand to rest on the grip of his saber, unsure what to do next. Juval seemed to read his thoughts.</p>
<p>"There is nothing you can do to win the day. The cyclops is already mine. I control every aspect of the world within the lens. I control every aspect of the <i>Relentless</i> itself, down to the finest detail. And now, thanks to eons of effort, I extend my control even to the waters surrounding the ship. And through those waters I control the fate of a nation. You should have known better than attempt to bargain with a demon, Korm Calladan. We are not limited by human frailties, weaknesses, or desires."</p>
<p>There it was again. The demon controlled every aspect not just of this gloomy underworld, but of the ship that surrounded it. Korm smiled. His sword might not be up to the challenge of killing a demon, but perhaps another avenue presented itself.</p>
<p>"Who was Durvin Gest?" asked Korm. </p>
<p>"No one of consequence," snapped Juval, in a manner that suggested otherwise. After a moment's consideration, it continued. "You remind me of him. Lean like a predator. Sword on the right hip, though Gest's was a true blade and not a needle like yours. He was a stronger man than you, from a better era, but the prototype is the same.</p>
<p>"You even have his eyes. Sharp as a forest drake. Gray as a wolf."</p>
<p>"You sound very familiar with those eyes," said Korm. Juval's own eyes flared, but the demon kept its face placid, as if it had barely noticed the comment. The calm extended only as far as its brow, where its serpentine hair writhed in disdain, each tiny ophidian face registering its personal disgust at his impudence. Behind Juval, on the small rise at the center of the valley, the burning manor house flared mightily. Korm felt its warmth on his cheeks.</p>
<p>"I knew him well. In the fifty centuries since a wizard's treachery left me formless and bound eternally within the lens, hundreds of visitors have ventured here—many of them human like you. Pathetic creatures. Frail. Singularly obsessed with protecting their lives yet incapable of doing anything meaningful with them. A human will always, always sell out its principles to preserve its life, but so few manage to think beyond petty concerns like family and community. </p>
<p>"But Durvin Gest was unfettered from sentimentality. He sought to use his ephemeral human life exploring the world, taking in its marvels, and leaving his mark in the form of deeds and tales that would long outlive him.</p>
<p>"A quest of limitless scope requires a vessel of limitless capability, and so Durvin Gest claimed the <i>Relentless</i> by virtue of sword and guile. And in time..." Juval turned to glance at the burning home behind it, "In time, he even conquered me."</p>
<p>Korm raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>"I led the conquering hero all over the world. Around the Horn of Garund, through the straits of lost Azlant, and to the far shores of Arcadia. After every stop, Gest returned here to our home together. He told me of the people he had defeated and the mysteries he had solved. He brought me funerary masks and axeblades and bones and books, eagerly sharing the panorama of a larger world beyond the <i>Relentless</i>. A world I would never truly see. His triumphs became my triumphs. As his image of the world exploded with mystery and wonder, so did mine extend beyond the confines of my eternal prison. Our lives became linked."</p>
<p>Aebos snapped his fingers, finally understanding what Korm was driving at. "The symbol on the dining room wall! That's your doing! You and Durvin Gest had a partnership!"</p>
<p>"We had a <i>bond</i>. I knew that the captain of the <i>Relentless</i> was a truly exceptional human, and so I took on more than just a human form. I attempted to think like a human thinks. To aspire as the greatest of humans might aspire. To be the companion that this exceptional human desired. To be exceptional together."</p>
<p>"Plenty of exceptional humans are trapped on Nex's seas," said Korm. "Because of you I even ate a couple of them. Many more exceptional humans will starve when ships can't reach port. You've got to put an end to this." Slowly, deliberately, Korm withdrew his slender blade from its scabbard. "And if you don't, we're going to have to kill you."</p>
<p>Juval threw back its medusa head in a wicked laugh. "You do remind me of him, Korm Calladan. Curious and confident to the point of recklessness. You came here, to a world I command to face off with a creature older than your race's eldest empire. And you come in the company of a lout and an addict, wielding nothing but an unmagicked blade."</p>
<p>"I object!" said Korm. "Aebos is far from a lout."</p>
<p>"Even in the face of certain death you remain jovial. Just like him. But Durvin Gest never returned from his final adventure. By now he must be centuries dead."</p>
<p>Behind Juval, the burning manor exploded in a bright conflagration. As the fire cloud lifted, it left behind no sign that the home had ever been there at all. Korm suspected a similar transformation was now taking place in the ship's dining room on the other side of the lens. </p>
<p>"I no longer believe in exceptional humans," said Juval. "The age of the human is over. The form has expired its appeal. I thought a shapechanger would cure the ennui of my imprisonment, and in truth I will miss it. But I find myself limited to only forms I have inhabited before. A shapechanger will come again. In ten years' time I can even demand one from Iranez, or again Nex's waters will fall still.</p>
<p>"But I may never get another chance at a cyclops."</p>
<p>The medusa fell slack and slumped to the ground, its cheek slamming into the edge of a step with a dull thud. While the body itself remained motionless, the details of its appearance undulated and rippled. The brown linen garment lost definition and melded with the body beneath, which grew increasingly gaunt and malnourished. Its serpentine scales smoothed even as the tendrils of its hair withdrew into the skull. The feminine face sagged until it resembled the early outlines of a hollow-eyed bust. Its vacuous mouth hung crooked and low. It was no longer a medusa. </p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Juval.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Juval_500.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="360px"><i>"I think I understand now why Durvin Gest might have chosen Juval as a companion."</i></td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>It was no longer Juval. Korm turned to Aebos to shout a warning, only to realize that he was too late. His friend was down on one knee, bent over and struggling to steel himself against some unseen assault. As the swordsman rushed to his side, Aebos slackened his shoulders and sighed. Korm placed his hand upon his companion's arm. Aebos turned to him.</p>
<p>"They say that the cyclopes can see the future," the demon said in Aebos's voice. An unseen chorus echoed the words. "I wonder if your cyclops ever saw himself with his hands around the throat of his most trusted ally?"</p>
<p>Juval grabbed for Korm, a wicked smile upon its face, murder in its single eye. Korm rolled along the outside of Juval's attack in a move that always confounded Aebos in their many sparring sessions. But the cyclops was no longer Aebos, and Juval seemed prepared for his dodge. It spun to meet Korm's movement, swinging its forearm in a clothesline strike that swept Korm off his feet and put him on his back upon the ground. </p>
<p>Juval looked down at the swordsman and opened its mouth for some further insult, only to double over at the waist, clutching its arms to its stomach. Korm saw anger and confusion on his friend's face. "The form of the cyclops," Juval muttered with difficulty, "it burns! The pain is intolerable!"</p>
<p>Juval fell to both knees and moaned. Korm scrambled away from the demon and got to his feet. It crushed him to see Aebos in so much pain, but he reminded himself that the demon was not Aebos at all. Creeg had said that Juval pushed aside the spirits of the forms it inhabited, so the best he could hope for at the moment was that whatever plagued Juval so terribly had no effect upon his friend. Juval clawed at its stomach, trying to tear a hole in Aebos's leather armor to get at the source of the pain within. From between the demon's outstretched fingers Korm saw a flash of golden radiance that seemed to come from within the cyclops's body. </p>
<p>Juval turned its baleful eye upon Korm, and the swordsman recognized determination on the face of his friend. He immediately felt a blasphemous presence slice its way into his psyche, slashing the bindings between his body and mind and thrusting his consciousness aside. He no longer controlled the movements of his form, but as he sensed his hand reach for the grip of his saber he felt the familiar softness of the supple leather handle and realized that if he could feel texture through his alien hands, Aebos must surely have experienced the horrific pain that had forced Juval to flee. Sword fully drawn now, Juval turned Korm's head to regard the stricken Aebos, pitched over on one side upon the ground. He took a step toward the cyclops and raised the sword for a mighty blow. </p>
<p>Korm felt a sharp scratch in the pit of his stomach. Juval brought his hand to the point of pain, and at the touch a hundred daggers exploded within him. Juval threw back Korm's shoulders and screamed in anguish, his puppetry of Korm's form finally matching exactly the intentions of its owner. Korm felt as if a swarm of insects was tearing him apart from within. </p>
<p>Although Juval seemed reluctant to look directly at it, from his peripheral vision Korm beheld a corona of crackling golden light shining from his abdomen, and he instantly realized what had happened. Creeg had poisoned them both—and himself—from the moment he first had met them, no doubt hoping for exactly this result. Each point where golden fire seemed to scorch his innards away must have been some remnant from one of Epostian Creeg's flakes of golden seasoning. But understanding the source of the pain gave Korm no control over it, and hope vanished within seconds of the excruciating onslaught. Korm realized that the pain that wracked both puppet and master would soon kill them both. Epostian Creeg had won. </p>
<p>Korm was willing to die, if that meant Aebos would live. He had no control over his own body anymore, but perhaps he could extend his mind to touch that of Juval's, find some kernel of goodness that would confound it into remaining in his body long enough for Creeg's golden flakes to do their fatal work on them both. He did his best to push the pain to the back of his mind and opened himself to the imposter dwelling within him. He managed to contact only a tiny sliver of the demon's mind, a thundering abyss of resentment, hatred, arrogance, and anger. Such a mind offered little for him to work with. </p>
<p>Before Korm could formulate a plan, however, the demon slipped away, leaving him in control of his faculties once more. The pain left immediately upon Juval's withdrawal, though Korm felt a warm glow in his stomach that convinced him that Creeg's poison still provided a defense against another possession attempt. His heart jumped as he looked to Aebos, fearing that Juval would make another play for his promised tribute. But Aebos lay gathering his senses on the ground, free of demonic inhabitation. </p>
<p>A flurry of movement on the steps drew Korm's attention to the squirming shapechanger, who writhed in pain on the ground, stomach glowing with a golden radiance. Somehow Creeg's golden flakes had transferred back with it so that even the shapechanger's body had been infected. Not all of the flakes, of course, but enough to constrict Juval in paroxysms of pain. As if summoned by his triumph, Epostian Creeg stepped past Korm to approach Juval.</p>
<p>"You are all fools," he said, dabbing his bloody mouth on the back of his hand. Already an angry bruise marred the side of the face where Aebos had struck him. "Iranez of the Orb has more pressing matters to attend to than placating her demon. You have outlived your usefulness, Juval. We knew that a cyclops would be too tempting a morsel for you, so the Orb found us one. Then it was only a matter of fattening it up with a substance anathema to you, and we knew you would undo yourself. And you did. </p>
<p>"But poison has no command over demons!" cried Juval.</p>
<p>"Indeed it does not," replied Creeg. "But what you have ingested—what's now become a part of you—is not poison at all, but a violation of multiversal law. You act as if you are poisoned because it is a biological process that is killing you. Or killing your mortal form, but that is good enough for our purposes, as your formless soul will die just as surely."</p>
<p>"I—I do not understand," Juval said through gritted teeth. </p>
<p>"When you started causing us trouble, the Lady Iranez ordered me to learn what I could about demons, in particular how to combat their ability to possess victims and steal their bodies. This led me to discover an order of celestial azatas known as the Golden Host, who made war against demons countless aeons ago. They had no natural protections against possession, so they bathed their skin in eldritch extracts anathema to demonkind. When a demon possessed the azata, its soul and the azata's became the same being, trapped within the imprisoning golden skin."</p>
<p>Both Korm and Aebos had regained their senses and approached Epostian Creeg and Juval. The alchemist continued his narration, as much to brag to his companions as to inform the demon of its impending fate. "This process violated the fundamental rules that govern the multiverse. A creature of utter good or utter evil is either one thing or the other. A demon cannot also be a celestial. So the multiverse compensates by erasing the contradiction. And thus did the azatas of the Golden Host discover a method to poison the unpoisonable. A fascinating study in alchemy I might never have discovered if not for you. Go to your oblivion knowing that you have my most sincere appreciation."</p>
<p>"These creatures are not of the Golden Host," declared Juval through the shapechanger's gritted teeth. </p>
<p>"Of course not," Creeg scoffed. "Such a creature would never accede to subterfuge, and would never agree to our plan. So I didn't even bother asking it. I simply summoned the creature, murdered it, and dried its skin for later ingestion by our bait." At that word, the alchemist smiled a blood-soaked grin at Aebos.</p>
<p>"Just think, Juval. If you had truly been one of those humans you hate so much, you would have been perfectly safe from our plan. I hope it makes your blood boil to know that in the end, it was one of us that finished you."</p>
<p>The shapechanger's image rippled and twisted, refining itself into the form of a beautiful human woman with luxurious long red hair to match the familiar crimson eyes. The indistinct body smoothed and took on the curves of a shapely human woman garbed in the clothes and gear of a traveling adventurer. </p>
<p>"I was human once," Juval said in a soft, feminine tone wholly free from the muffled chorus that had previously accompanied everything the demon said. "I could learn to be again." It turned to look Korm straight in his gray eyes. "This is how Durvin Gest saw me. How I truly am."</p>
<p>Aebos hesitated. Korm reached into the pouch at his side and clutched the cylinder of glass containing the rest of Creeg's golden flakes.</p>
<p>"Do not trust it," Korm said. "I have touched its mind. There is nothing good left in it." </p>
<p>Epostian Creeg gasped as he recognized the thin golden flakes contained within the jar in Korm's fist. The swordsman stepped back to get the most of his swing and punched Juval in the face so hard that his hand shattered its teeth and penetrated its mouth. He withdrew his hand rapidly, wincing as the demon's jagged mess of a mouth cut furious channels in his bare flesh. But he left the smashed jar within. Aebos closed both hands around Juval's head and, for good measure, shook the demon violently to ensure even distribution of the flakes. </p>
<p>The creature's form shifted urgently as it jerked around in the cyclops's clutches. The fingers of the demon's hands melded and sharpened into cruel talons, which tore handfuls of flesh from Aebos's shoulders and arms. The cyclops released his grip and backed away from the fight. All detail fled Juval's form, which once again assumed the shapechanger's emaciated natural frame. With a surprising burst of energy, it lashed out at Creeg, throwing the alchemist fifteen feet away to land with a sickening crunch. Juval spat a dollop of blood upon the stairs and spoke through broken teeth in a raspy, desperate voice.</p>
<p>"You have hurt me, worms. Worse than any mortals have managed before, but I am afraid I have digested all of your foul meal, and yet I live. Perhaps an ounce more and I would have been undone. But I am not so greedy as to inhabit any of you again. I will have to content myself with tearing you limb from limb. A pity that you have no more of Creeg's poison."</p>
<p>Korm rushed Juval, saber raised for a deadly slash. On the downswing, Juval caught the blade in the palm of its hand, instantly heating the metal to soft, useless slag. The demon slapped Korm across the face with a backhand, sending him sprawling on the verge of unconsciousness.</p>
<p>With a touch of triumph to his movement, Juval spun to face Aebos on the ground, only to find himself looking directly into the eye of the cyclops. A wide grin split Aebos's massive head.</p>
<p>"I've been eating Creeg's poison since breakfast yesterday, and I have plenty left here in my belly. But I'm more than willing to share."</p>
<p>With that, Aebos opened his mouth and brought the index finger of his left hand to the back of his throat. Almost immediately, the cyclops let loose a powerful torrent of vomit directly in Juval's face, filling the demon's slack-jawed mouth. Even from where he lay upon the ground, Korm could see the sparkle of tiny golden flakes within the spray.</p>
<p>The golden glow at the pit of Juval's stomach spread across the whole of its body, and when the flash of light slowly faded, nothing of the demon or the shapechanger remained but the dying echoes of an all-too-human scream. </p>
<p><center>∗ ∗ ∗</center></p>
<p>From the deck of the <i>Relentless</i>, Korm and Aebos looked on as Iranez's crew put the <i>Queen's Lament</i> to the torch. A strong wind spread the fire quickly to the mainsail, which erupted into a curtain of flame. Iranez of the Orb and Epostian Creeg stood upon the bridge atop the sleek demon ship, while the boat's crew rigged enormous sails upon its impossibly thin masts for what must have been the first time in ages.</p>
<p>Korm clasped the bag of treasure tightly. Iranez had looked disappointed upon their return, but proved true to her word, allowing them to keep what they had earned. Even now Korm felt the <i>Relentless</i> pulling away from the <i>Queen's Lament</i>, catching the fresh westerly wind that would bring them to Quantium. </p>
<p>"Aebos, my friend," he said. "I think we are finally getting free of our troubles. It's all uphill from here. I'm not thrilled about going to Quantium, but at least we're moving."</p>
<p>Aebos shrugged. "I am eager to reach the city," he confessed. "I don't know about you, Korm, but I could use something to eat. I'm starving."</p>
<br />
<p><b>Coming Next Week</b>: A sneak preview of Robin D. Laws's new Pathfinder Tales novel, <a href="http://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy8kc4"><i>The Worldwound Gambit</i></a>!</p>
<p><i>Erik Mona is the Publisher of Paizo Publishing and one of the primary architects of the Pathfinder campaign setting, as well as the former Editor-in-Chief of </i>Dungeon<i> and </i>Dragon<i> magazines. His previous game books have won numerous awards, and include the <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/35E/v5748btpy82t7"></i>Pathfinder Campaign Setting Gazetteer<i></a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/pathfinderRPG/v5748btpy8ief"></i>The Inner Sea World Guide<i></a>, </i>Expedition to the Ruins of Greyhawk<i>, <a href="https://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy7ym6">"The Whispering Cairn" in </i>Dungeon</i> #124</a> (which kicked off the Age of Worms Adventure Path), and <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/adventurePath/legacyOfFire/v5748btpy8735"></i>Pathfinder Adventure Path #19: Howl of the Carrion King<i></a>, among many others. To find out more about Erik, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Erik-Mona-Author/140667695961838?sk=info" target="nofollow">visit his Facebook page</a>.</i></p>
<p><i>Art by John Stanko.</i><p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, John Stanko, Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver, Pathfinder Tales, demons —><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/monsters/demons">Demons</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/johnStanko">John Stanko</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction/twoPiecesOfTarnishedSilver">Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</a></p>2011-05-18T17:00:00ZTwo Pieces of Tarnished Silver--Chapter Four: Across the Plain of Poolshttps://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5lc6d?Two-Pieces-of-Tarnished-SilverChapter-Four2011-05-11T19:00:00Z<a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" align="right" border="0" /></a>
<h1>Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</h1>
<p>by Erik Mona</p>
<h2>Chapter Four: Across the Plain of Pools</h2>
<blockquote>
<p> Korm woke from fitful dreams at the touch of Aebos's massive hand upon his shoulder, shaking him gently. "It's been four hours," the cyclops said softly. "It's your turn to stand watch. A good thing, too. I just caught myself dozing off."</p>
<p>Korm rubbed sleep from his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. Across the small expanse of flat ledge on which they'd camped the alchemist Epostian Creeg lay upon his fine bedroll, snoring softly. Beyond Creeg the mountain fell away into an inky darkness that filled the goblet of the valley, pierced only by the distant glow of the burning building at the center of Juval's realm. Everything here looked exactly as it had when Korm had finally fallen asleep, and if not for his friend's testimony he would have sworn less than an hour had passed. He certainly didn't feel well rested. </p>
<p>As Korm roused himself, Aebos sat beside him and unfurled his sleeping pad. He looked to the roiling skies. "I've seen a swarm of shadowy avian creatures pass overhead three times since you and Creeg went to sleep. I couldn't tell if they were the same creatures or different flocks. As you scan the mountain for danger, don't forget to look up."</p>
<p>Korm nodded, casting a casual glance to the sky. Far above, the clouds roiled without sound, but he saw no sign of the creatures. In a way, he almost looked forward to encountering them. If Aebos's bird-things had been circling for a meal, he'd find out soon enough. And that, in a way, brought comfort. He knew how to fight. That was the same no matter the circumstances. A sword in the hand brought a sense of certainty and control, if nothing else. If he could maintain control, they would stay alive. Deal with the demon. Get back to the ship and the safety of land. </p>
<p>If he did it right, they'd also be rich.</p>
<p>"I'll watch out for your birds, but my biggest concern is facing off against the demon with Creeg at our side," Korm said quietly, his eyes on the sleeping form of the alchemist on the other side of their camp. "If Iranez thought he could have handled Juval alone, she would have sent him alone. She could even put dozens of guards at his back, and yet she didn't trust him to get the job done. You saw how puffed up and angry he got at breakfast. He's going to say something that'll get us killed, I can feel it."</p>
<p>"He is an exceptional cook," Aebos offered.</p>
<p>"Perhaps the lady tires of his food, and has sent him here to get rid of him?"</p>
<p>Aebos chuckled. "Too elaborate. Surely she could just have him thrown overboard. It's Iranez I'm worried about. When this is all over, and we return with the treasure, who's to say that she'll simply let us accompany her back to Quantium? She could just as easily have us killed."</p>
<p>Korm pursed his lips and exhaled a slow blast of air, as if deflating. "That's tomorrow," he said. "In order to solve tomorrow's problem, we've got to make it through today."</p>
<p>Aebos smiled. He pulled his woolen covers over his shoulders, closed his heavy eyelid, and lay still. He began to snore before Korm had finished belting on his sword.</p>
<p>Korm circled the camp with soft steps, casting his eyes into the darkness in search of lurking danger. Finding nothing, he heaved himself upon the boulder near Epostian Creeg and did his best to let his mind wander while at the same time keeping a vigilant eye on the mountain—and the sky. His thoughts turned to the chilling tales he'd heard of demons from pilgrims riding the rivers of his youth, fleeing the crusade lands of the north where a rift in reality allowed the fiends access to the world. They spoke of vile appetites and perverse cruelties. Demons were beings of ineffable evil. They thrived on the sight of their enemies' blood. And the greatest of demons were legendary beings in their own right. The sages spoke of them in the same breaths that conjured ancient dragons. </p>
<p>And now they were about to go face to face with one of them. He trusted Aebos, of course. He knew his sagacious companion would let him do the talking, and wouldn't say anything to unduly arouse the demon's ire. And if things did go to shit, he knew Aebos could back him up in the ensuing battle. Creeg, on the other hand, was a risk on both counts. Given his ego, he seemed almost pathologically destined to say something upsetting, and the man had thus far proven dangerous to absolutely nothing beyond lobsters and unborn aubekan chicks. A look at the slight form of the alchemist sleeping below him confirmed that Creeg offered no physical advantages to their chance of success. Korm chuckled at the enormous rucksack next to Creeg. He'd have to pull something awfully impressive out of that bag of his to prove his worth, Korm thought. </p>
<p>But why wait to find out what it would be? Korm eased himself off the rock and stepped softly to the bag. With the precision of a master tomb robber disabling a trap, the swordsman gently lifted the bulky satchel, flinching at every tiny clink from the glass bottles and containers within. Creeg didn't seem to notice, and slept on. </p>
<p>Korm returned to the boulder and began rummaging through the rucksack. He withdrew a slim leather case hinged at one end and fastened at the other with a simple clasp. This he opened, revealing a medical kit with three crude metal syringes and a length of leather cord. Small loops of material built into the case's interior held several ampoules filled with colored liquid. The kit and its contents looked shabby and well used. </p>
<p>Korm next removed a small, cylindrical glass jar from the bag, raising his eyebrows as he recognized Creeg's ubiquitous golden spice within. Although he could not deny that the flakes added to the flavor of the meals they seasoned, they also brought a monotony to each dish that was starting to tire him. That said, Aebos loved the stuff, and would surely suffer from a scheme that deprived him of it forever. The perfect solution seemed obvious. </p>
<p>Korm placed the jar of golden flakes into his beltpouch. This way he could use it to get back into Aebos's good graces a month from now after Korm inevitably got them into trouble again.</p>
<p>It was an investment.</p>
<p>Aside from cooking supplies, some dried meats, and numerous tubes of alchemical liquids Korm couldn't hope to identify, Creeg's bag contained several samples of narcotic drugs that shed troubling light upon the needle kit Korm had found earlier. These items included a folded rectangle of butcher paper smeared with pesh paste and a pouch of qat leaves, as well as more than a dozen hallucinogenic yellowcap mushrooms. </p>
<p>His search complete, Korm decided nothing in Creeg's bag suggested a coming betrayal or unknown danger—just a lot of drugs that cast further doubt upon the alchemist's character.</p>
<p>Korm pocketed four of the mushroom caps for himself, put the rest of Creeg's possessions back in the bag, and waited for the dark skies to turn a lighter shade of gray.</p>
<p><center>∗ ∗ ∗</center></p>
<p>Korm finally reached the foot of the mountain to find Aebos and Epostian Creeg stopped short before him, marveling at a huge body stretched out upon the dusty ground. The stark white of its immense bones contrasted with the red dirt of the valley floor, reminding Korm of a sun-bleached skeleton of an ancient warrior revealed by the shifting sands of a desert. Clumps of flesh still clinging to the frame here and there and the jumble of indistinct organic matter within its chest suggested this warrior was more recent than ancient, however, and an army made up of creatures this tall could easily crush nations under its heels. The behemoth's skull looked in many ways human, but was larger than that of an elephant. From the top of its head to the soles of its feet must have been twenty-five feet or more. </p>
<p>"What in the Hell is that supposed to be?" Korm asked. </p>
<p>"Could it have fallen?" asked Epostian Creeg. </p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Epostian.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Epostian_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="360px"><i>"Creeg hardly inspires confidence."</i></td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>Aebos approached the skeleton for a closer observation, his posture displaying little of the caution that ran up and down Korm's spine. "The bones would have been crushed," Aebos said. "And they would have been jumbled and chaotic. This creature looks as though it fell straight on its back, as if it laid down willingly and died. The arms are out straight at the shoulder. No one lands like that and stays that way."</p>
<p>Korm turned from the creature to survey the route from which they had come. The last hour had been a careful hand-over-hand descent down a jagged cleft in the mountain wall. The cliffs stretched for miles on either side. No doubt the route they had chosen was the only viable path from the portal above down to the valley. That meant the giant's corpse had been staged for all who trod the path from the <i>Relentless</i>'s portal. It was meant as a message, and its author must have been Juval.</p>
<p>"I think the demon killed it," Korm said. "But what was it, and what was it doing here?"</p>
<p>Creeg scoffed. "The ship is ancient, and any number of creatures may have found their way into Juval's realm, only to be killed. It's possible this fellow has been here for centuries. It is also possible that the giant is simply a figment conjured by Juval to scare us back up the mountain. We should pay it no mind and carry on."</p>
<p>And so they did.</p>
<p><center>∗ ∗ ∗</center></p>
<p>Later, the trio came upon the first of the violet pools that spread across the valley like angry, bubbling sores. The alchemist marveled at the pool's viscid liquid, which melted a wooden testing prod like a candle but did no damage to his bare hand. When Creeg knelt to gather some of the material for his own collection, Korm even thought he saw the alchemist take a sip from his slime-soaked sample jar. </p>
<p>They saw little sign of life as they traversed the plain toward the burning building at the heart of Juval's realm. Three times they heard a loud splash from one of the pools they had just passed, but upon turning discovered only ripples widening from the water's edge. After a few hours of marching, the pools thinned out and finally disappeared at the verge of a sickly forest of diseased trees glistening with gangrene and pus. </p>
<p>Korm and Aebos kept their distance from the hideous growths, but Epostian Creeg stepped right up to their trunks, cutting away sections of their scabrous flesh with a thin knife to collect samples for later study. The trail of his blade seeped with greasy black sap that smelled worse than it looked. Here and there in the forest, Korm thought he could hear footsteps in the undergrowth keeping pace with their march, but he never managed to catch sight of his observer. </p>
<p>On one such occasion, looking off the rough trail into the woods, Korm found himself staring into the eyes of a massive bull. </p>
<p>The vacant stare, twisted mouth, and extended yellow tongue told Korm the creature was dead even before his mind registered what he was seeing. It almost came as an afterthought that the bovine head sat detached from its body, balanced in a clump of viscera upon a gore-soaked tree stump at eye level, facing the path through the woods. A tree just beyond the grisly stump was the scene of an even greater atrocity. There the body of a muscular human man hung upside down from a long nail driven through both ankles. The splattered red stain smearing the tree from the man's jagged, headless neck gave the appearance of a can of paint tipped over end, with the thickest sludge still slowly oozing to the ground.</p>
<p>The head and the body had once been a matched pair.</p>
<p>"So I guess this guy is another of Juval's figments?" Korm asked.</p>
<p>"It is possible," Creeg said without enthusiasm. </p>
<p><center>∗ ∗ ∗</center></p>
<p>Finally the three reached the low stone walls ringing the garden at the center of the valley. Here the dusty ground and clumps of scrub grass gave way to wide, broken paving stones partially claimed by creeping vines. Raised platforms, dry and weed-choked fountains, and the remnants of mosaic paths hinted at the garden this once had been, an impression strengthened by the many statues arrayed around the area. </p>
<p>From a low rise at the center of the garden, the burning manor cast a flickering glow on the sculpted figures. Most of them looked in the house's direction as if transfixed by the awe of the sight. Korm could hardly blame them.</p>
<p>The entire frame of the stately three-story structure remained visible through the furious flames, but only the first was more than a vague outline. The front door stood as yet unmarred by fire, as if beckoning potential rescuers to burst through in search of survivors. Had they been in a city, even this far away, Korm might have attempted it. But here, in the demon's realm, he doubted very seriously that whatever lurked within would welcome him as its hero. </p>
<p>Their answers, and Juval itself, probably awaited them inside. But there was no sense in rushing into things. If Juval had known the moment they had arrived, as Creeg had suggested last night, the element of surprise had long since been lost.</p>
<p>And besides. They had not come to fight, but to negotiate. </p>
<p>The trio cautiously advanced into the garden, passing several of its statues on their way to Juval's lair. Some of the figures wore primitive, tribal garb. Others were attired as pirates, and others dressed in outdated military uniforms. Most had been sculpted in a moment of terror, their hands splayed out before them as if fending off danger, each face a rictus of fear. Closer to the garden's center, a trio of humanoid statues seemed to slink up a low stair toward the house. Time had worn away their crude features, but what remained gave Korm the impression of sharks. While inspecting the extremely realistic trident clutched by one of the creatures, Korm's peripheral vision caught a ceremonial altar at the top of the low stairs. </p>
<p>A small organic form lay motionless upon the altar. Korm, Aebos, and Epostian Creeg approached closer to discover the body of a goat-horned satyr prostrate upon the pedestal. A jagged line marred its bearded neck, and the flaked pool of blood that had gathered under it suggested that the body had been here a week or more. </p>
<p>The three of them stood with their backs to the garden, considering the slain satyr, when the clip-clop of hooves tapped from the flagstones at the foot of the low stair behind them. They turned just in time to see the form of a powerful centaur step from behind a massive stone plinth. Unlike the ashen statues that surrounded it, the creature's healthy tone and muscular physique exuded life and spirit, as did its bushy red beard and shock of wild hair. </p>
<p>The centaur's eyes burned with a bright crimson fire, and Korm knew that he looked upon Juval itself. </p>
<p>"Epostian Creeg," it said in a hollow voice accompanied by a disembodied chorus. "I expected you months ago. The decade has long since passed, and a fitting tribute is long overdue. Tell me, what treasure have you brought in the name of Iranez of the Orb?"</p>
<p>The alchemist stepped forward and gave a courteous bow. "A cyclops, regal Juval!" he shouted. "I bring you the form of the cyclops Aebos, to do with as you wish!".</p>
<br />
<p><b>Coming Next Week</b>: The thrilling conclusion of Erik Mona's "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver."</p>
<p><i>Erik Mona is the Publisher of Paizo Publishing and one of the primary architects of the Pathfinder campaign setting, as well as the former Editor-in-Chief of </i>Dungeon<i> and </i>Dragon<i> magazines. His previous game books have won numerous awards, and include the <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/35E/v5748btpy82t7"></i>Pathfinder Campaign Setting Gazetteer<i></a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/pathfinderRPG/v5748btpy8ief"></i>The Inner Sea World Guide<i></a>, </i>Expedition to the Ruins of Greyhawk<i>, <a href="https://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy7ym6">"The Whispering Cairn" in </i>Dungeon</i> #124</a> (which kicked off the Age of Worms Adventure Path), and <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/adventurePath/legacyOfFire/v5748btpy8735"></i>Pathfinder Adventure Path #19: Howl of the Carrion King<i></a>, among many others. To find out more about Erik, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Erik-Mona-Author/140667695961838?sk=info" target="nofollow">visit his Facebook page</a>.</i></p>
<p><i>Art by John Stanko.</i><p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, John Stanko, Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver, Pathfinder Tales, Alchemists —><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/classes/alchemists">Alchemists</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/johnStanko">John Stanko</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction/twoPiecesOfTarnishedSilver">Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</a></p><a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" align="right" border="0" /></a>
<h1>Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</h1>
<p>by Erik Mona</p>
<h2>Chapter Four: Across the Plain of Pools</h2>
<blockquote>
<p> Korm woke from fitful dreams at the touch of Aebos's massive hand upon his shoulder, shaking him gently. "It's been four hours," the cyclops said softly. "It's your turn to stand watch. A good thing, too. I just caught myself dozing off."</p>
<p>Korm rubbed sleep from his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. Across the small expanse of flat ledge on which they'd camped the alchemist Epostian Creeg lay upon his fine bedroll, snoring softly. Beyond Creeg the mountain fell away into an inky darkness that filled the goblet of the valley, pierced only by the distant glow of the burning building at the center of Juval's realm. Everything here looked exactly as it had when Korm had finally fallen asleep, and if not for his friend's testimony he would have sworn less than an hour had passed. He certainly didn't feel well rested. </p>
<p>As Korm roused himself, Aebos sat beside him and unfurled his sleeping pad. He looked to the roiling skies. "I've seen a swarm of shadowy avian creatures pass overhead three times since you and Creeg went to sleep. I couldn't tell if they were the same creatures or different flocks. As you scan the mountain for danger, don't forget to look up."</p>
<p>Korm nodded, casting a casual glance to the sky. Far above, the clouds roiled without sound, but he saw no sign of the creatures. In a way, he almost looked forward to encountering them. If Aebos's bird-things had been circling for a meal, he'd find out soon enough. And that, in a way, brought comfort. He knew how to fight. That was the same no matter the circumstances. A sword in the hand brought a sense of certainty and control, if nothing else. If he could maintain control, they would stay alive. Deal with the demon. Get back to the ship and the safety of land. </p>
<p>If he did it right, they'd also be rich.</p>
<p>"I'll watch out for your birds, but my biggest concern is facing off against the demon with Creeg at our side," Korm said quietly, his eyes on the sleeping form of the alchemist on the other side of their camp. "If Iranez thought he could have handled Juval alone, she would have sent him alone. She could even put dozens of guards at his back, and yet she didn't trust him to get the job done. You saw how puffed up and angry he got at breakfast. He's going to say something that'll get us killed, I can feel it."</p>
<p>"He is an exceptional cook," Aebos offered.</p>
<p>"Perhaps the lady tires of his food, and has sent him here to get rid of him?"</p>
<p>Aebos chuckled. "Too elaborate. Surely she could just have him thrown overboard. It's Iranez I'm worried about. When this is all over, and we return with the treasure, who's to say that she'll simply let us accompany her back to Quantium? She could just as easily have us killed."</p>
<p>Korm pursed his lips and exhaled a slow blast of air, as if deflating. "That's tomorrow," he said. "In order to solve tomorrow's problem, we've got to make it through today."</p>
<p>Aebos smiled. He pulled his woolen covers over his shoulders, closed his heavy eyelid, and lay still. He began to snore before Korm had finished belting on his sword.</p>
<p>Korm circled the camp with soft steps, casting his eyes into the darkness in search of lurking danger. Finding nothing, he heaved himself upon the boulder near Epostian Creeg and did his best to let his mind wander while at the same time keeping a vigilant eye on the mountain—and the sky. His thoughts turned to the chilling tales he'd heard of demons from pilgrims riding the rivers of his youth, fleeing the crusade lands of the north where a rift in reality allowed the fiends access to the world. They spoke of vile appetites and perverse cruelties. Demons were beings of ineffable evil. They thrived on the sight of their enemies' blood. And the greatest of demons were legendary beings in their own right. The sages spoke of them in the same breaths that conjured ancient dragons. </p>
<p>And now they were about to go face to face with one of them. He trusted Aebos, of course. He knew his sagacious companion would let him do the talking, and wouldn't say anything to unduly arouse the demon's ire. And if things did go to shit, he knew Aebos could back him up in the ensuing battle. Creeg, on the other hand, was a risk on both counts. Given his ego, he seemed almost pathologically destined to say something upsetting, and the man had thus far proven dangerous to absolutely nothing beyond lobsters and unborn aubekan chicks. A look at the slight form of the alchemist sleeping below him confirmed that Creeg offered no physical advantages to their chance of success. Korm chuckled at the enormous rucksack next to Creeg. He'd have to pull something awfully impressive out of that bag of his to prove his worth, Korm thought. </p>
<p>But why wait to find out what it would be? Korm eased himself off the rock and stepped softly to the bag. With the precision of a master tomb robber disabling a trap, the swordsman gently lifted the bulky satchel, flinching at every tiny clink from the glass bottles and containers within. Creeg didn't seem to notice, and slept on. </p>
<p>Korm returned to the boulder and began rummaging through the rucksack. He withdrew a slim leather case hinged at one end and fastened at the other with a simple clasp. This he opened, revealing a medical kit with three crude metal syringes and a length of leather cord. Small loops of material built into the case's interior held several ampoules filled with colored liquid. The kit and its contents looked shabby and well used. </p>
<p>Korm next removed a small, cylindrical glass jar from the bag, raising his eyebrows as he recognized Creeg's ubiquitous golden spice within. Although he could not deny that the flakes added to the flavor of the meals they seasoned, they also brought a monotony to each dish that was starting to tire him. That said, Aebos loved the stuff, and would surely suffer from a scheme that deprived him of it forever. The perfect solution seemed obvious. </p>
<p>Korm placed the jar of golden flakes into his beltpouch. This way he could use it to get back into Aebos's good graces a month from now after Korm inevitably got them into trouble again.</p>
<p>It was an investment.</p>
<p>Aside from cooking supplies, some dried meats, and numerous tubes of alchemical liquids Korm couldn't hope to identify, Creeg's bag contained several samples of narcotic drugs that shed troubling light upon the needle kit Korm had found earlier. These items included a folded rectangle of butcher paper smeared with pesh paste and a pouch of qat leaves, as well as more than a dozen hallucinogenic yellowcap mushrooms. </p>
<p>His search complete, Korm decided nothing in Creeg's bag suggested a coming betrayal or unknown danger—just a lot of drugs that cast further doubt upon the alchemist's character.</p>
<p>Korm pocketed four of the mushroom caps for himself, put the rest of Creeg's possessions back in the bag, and waited for the dark skies to turn a lighter shade of gray.</p>
<p><center>∗ ∗ ∗</center></p>
<p>Korm finally reached the foot of the mountain to find Aebos and Epostian Creeg stopped short before him, marveling at a huge body stretched out upon the dusty ground. The stark white of its immense bones contrasted with the red dirt of the valley floor, reminding Korm of a sun-bleached skeleton of an ancient warrior revealed by the shifting sands of a desert. Clumps of flesh still clinging to the frame here and there and the jumble of indistinct organic matter within its chest suggested this warrior was more recent than ancient, however, and an army made up of creatures this tall could easily crush nations under its heels. The behemoth's skull looked in many ways human, but was larger than that of an elephant. From the top of its head to the soles of its feet must have been twenty-five feet or more. </p>
<p>"What in the Hell is that supposed to be?" Korm asked. </p>
<p>"Could it have fallen?" asked Epostian Creeg. </p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Epostian.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Epostian_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="360px"><i>"Creeg hardly inspires confidence."</i></td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>Aebos approached the skeleton for a closer observation, his posture displaying little of the caution that ran up and down Korm's spine. "The bones would have been crushed," Aebos said. "And they would have been jumbled and chaotic. This creature looks as though it fell straight on its back, as if it laid down willingly and died. The arms are out straight at the shoulder. No one lands like that and stays that way."</p>
<p>Korm turned from the creature to survey the route from which they had come. The last hour had been a careful hand-over-hand descent down a jagged cleft in the mountain wall. The cliffs stretched for miles on either side. No doubt the route they had chosen was the only viable path from the portal above down to the valley. That meant the giant's corpse had been staged for all who trod the path from the <i>Relentless</i>'s portal. It was meant as a message, and its author must have been Juval.</p>
<p>"I think the demon killed it," Korm said. "But what was it, and what was it doing here?"</p>
<p>Creeg scoffed. "The ship is ancient, and any number of creatures may have found their way into Juval's realm, only to be killed. It's possible this fellow has been here for centuries. It is also possible that the giant is simply a figment conjured by Juval to scare us back up the mountain. We should pay it no mind and carry on."</p>
<p>And so they did.</p>
<p><center>∗ ∗ ∗</center></p>
<p>Later, the trio came upon the first of the violet pools that spread across the valley like angry, bubbling sores. The alchemist marveled at the pool's viscid liquid, which melted a wooden testing prod like a candle but did no damage to his bare hand. When Creeg knelt to gather some of the material for his own collection, Korm even thought he saw the alchemist take a sip from his slime-soaked sample jar. </p>
<p>They saw little sign of life as they traversed the plain toward the burning building at the heart of Juval's realm. Three times they heard a loud splash from one of the pools they had just passed, but upon turning discovered only ripples widening from the water's edge. After a few hours of marching, the pools thinned out and finally disappeared at the verge of a sickly forest of diseased trees glistening with gangrene and pus. </p>
<p>Korm and Aebos kept their distance from the hideous growths, but Epostian Creeg stepped right up to their trunks, cutting away sections of their scabrous flesh with a thin knife to collect samples for later study. The trail of his blade seeped with greasy black sap that smelled worse than it looked. Here and there in the forest, Korm thought he could hear footsteps in the undergrowth keeping pace with their march, but he never managed to catch sight of his observer. </p>
<p>On one such occasion, looking off the rough trail into the woods, Korm found himself staring into the eyes of a massive bull. </p>
<p>The vacant stare, twisted mouth, and extended yellow tongue told Korm the creature was dead even before his mind registered what he was seeing. It almost came as an afterthought that the bovine head sat detached from its body, balanced in a clump of viscera upon a gore-soaked tree stump at eye level, facing the path through the woods. A tree just beyond the grisly stump was the scene of an even greater atrocity. There the body of a muscular human man hung upside down from a long nail driven through both ankles. The splattered red stain smearing the tree from the man's jagged, headless neck gave the appearance of a can of paint tipped over end, with the thickest sludge still slowly oozing to the ground.</p>
<p>The head and the body had once been a matched pair.</p>
<p>"So I guess this guy is another of Juval's figments?" Korm asked.</p>
<p>"It is possible," Creeg said without enthusiasm. </p>
<p><center>∗ ∗ ∗</center></p>
<p>Finally the three reached the low stone walls ringing the garden at the center of the valley. Here the dusty ground and clumps of scrub grass gave way to wide, broken paving stones partially claimed by creeping vines. Raised platforms, dry and weed-choked fountains, and the remnants of mosaic paths hinted at the garden this once had been, an impression strengthened by the many statues arrayed around the area. </p>
<p>From a low rise at the center of the garden, the burning manor cast a flickering glow on the sculpted figures. Most of them looked in the house's direction as if transfixed by the awe of the sight. Korm could hardly blame them.</p>
<p>The entire frame of the stately three-story structure remained visible through the furious flames, but only the first was more than a vague outline. The front door stood as yet unmarred by fire, as if beckoning potential rescuers to burst through in search of survivors. Had they been in a city, even this far away, Korm might have attempted it. But here, in the demon's realm, he doubted very seriously that whatever lurked within would welcome him as its hero. </p>
<p>Their answers, and Juval itself, probably awaited them inside. But there was no sense in rushing into things. If Juval had known the moment they had arrived, as Creeg had suggested last night, the element of surprise had long since been lost.</p>
<p>And besides. They had not come to fight, but to negotiate. </p>
<p>The trio cautiously advanced into the garden, passing several of its statues on their way to Juval's lair. Some of the figures wore primitive, tribal garb. Others were attired as pirates, and others dressed in outdated military uniforms. Most had been sculpted in a moment of terror, their hands splayed out before them as if fending off danger, each face a rictus of fear. Closer to the garden's center, a trio of humanoid statues seemed to slink up a low stair toward the house. Time had worn away their crude features, but what remained gave Korm the impression of sharks. While inspecting the extremely realistic trident clutched by one of the creatures, Korm's peripheral vision caught a ceremonial altar at the top of the low stairs. </p>
<p>A small organic form lay motionless upon the altar. Korm, Aebos, and Epostian Creeg approached closer to discover the body of a goat-horned satyr prostrate upon the pedestal. A jagged line marred its bearded neck, and the flaked pool of blood that had gathered under it suggested that the body had been here a week or more. </p>
<p>The three of them stood with their backs to the garden, considering the slain satyr, when the clip-clop of hooves tapped from the flagstones at the foot of the low stair behind them. They turned just in time to see the form of a powerful centaur step from behind a massive stone plinth. Unlike the ashen statues that surrounded it, the creature's healthy tone and muscular physique exuded life and spirit, as did its bushy red beard and shock of wild hair. </p>
<p>The centaur's eyes burned with a bright crimson fire, and Korm knew that he looked upon Juval itself. </p>
<p>"Epostian Creeg," it said in a hollow voice accompanied by a disembodied chorus. "I expected you months ago. The decade has long since passed, and a fitting tribute is long overdue. Tell me, what treasure have you brought in the name of Iranez of the Orb?"</p>
<p>The alchemist stepped forward and gave a courteous bow. "A cyclops, regal Juval!" he shouted. "I bring you the form of the cyclops Aebos, to do with as you wish!".</p>
<br />
<p><b>Coming Next Week</b>: The thrilling conclusion of Erik Mona's "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver."</p>
<p><i>Erik Mona is the Publisher of Paizo Publishing and one of the primary architects of the Pathfinder campaign setting, as well as the former Editor-in-Chief of </i>Dungeon<i> and </i>Dragon<i> magazines. His previous game books have won numerous awards, and include the <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/35E/v5748btpy82t7"></i>Pathfinder Campaign Setting Gazetteer<i></a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/pathfinderRPG/v5748btpy8ief"></i>The Inner Sea World Guide<i></a>, </i>Expedition to the Ruins of Greyhawk<i>, <a href="https://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy7ym6">"The Whispering Cairn" in </i>Dungeon</i> #124</a> (which kicked off the Age of Worms Adventure Path), and <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/adventurePath/legacyOfFire/v5748btpy8735"></i>Pathfinder Adventure Path #19: Howl of the Carrion King<i></a>, among many others. To find out more about Erik, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Erik-Mona-Author/140667695961838?sk=info" target="nofollow">visit his Facebook page</a>.</i></p>
<p><i>Art by John Stanko.</i><p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, John Stanko, Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver, Pathfinder Tales, Alchemists —><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/classes/alchemists">Alchemists</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/johnStanko">John Stanko</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction/twoPiecesOfTarnishedSilver">Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</a></p>2011-05-11T19:00:00ZTwo Pieces of Tarnished Silver--Chapter Three: Beyond the Demon Lenshttps://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5lc5d?Two-Pieces-of-Tarnished-SilverChapter-Three2011-05-04T17:00:00Z<a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" align="right" border="0" /></a>
<h1>Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</h1>
<p>by Erik Mona</p>
<h2>Chapter Three: Beyond the Demon Lens</h2>
<blockquote>
<p>For a long moment Korm Calladan felt only a pleasant warmth. Gone were the fears of starvation, the thrill of combat in the cramped underdeck of the <i>Queen's Lament</i>, the suspicion of the Lady Iranez and her imposing crew. He knew his cyclops companion Aebos and the preening alchemist Epostian Creeg were somewhere ahead, for they had preceded him through the curved glass lens at the heart of the <i>Relentless</i>, but in the soothing calm he saw only a featureless white haze.</p>
<p>After the rigors of the past weeks, Korm wanted more than anything to linger in this peaceful no-man's land, but his legs seemed determined to carry him forward despite the wishes of his overworked mind. He counted the steps. Upon the sixth, the haze vanished abruptly, and Korm found himself near the edge of a jagged bluff of rigid red stone, his long black hair and considerable mustache whipped by a stark, ill-smelling wind. A thin white outline in the air behind him marked the way back to safety on the other side of the lens. A cackle of ominous thunder ripped through the inky black clouds cloaking the turbid skies above, shaking the ridge.</p>
<p>"I knew it would be just like this," he said with a grimace, drawing his slender sword. His companions stood just beyond the reach of his voice in the whipping wind, surveying the land beyond the cliff's edge. He buttoned his open shirt with his right hand as he approached them.</p>
<p>"What a delightful little world we've found," he said as he reached the rocky ledge, almost yelling over the howling wind. Aebos looked back over his shoulder and smiled at his friend's arrival.</p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Aebos.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Aebos_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="360px"><i>"Don't let the club fool you—Aebos is a lot smarter than he looks."</i></td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>"Perhaps not so little," the cyclops shouted in response. He gestured toward a vast expanse of land that spread from the mountain below into a wide plain spotted with violet pools and copses of feeble, dun-colored trees. Jagged mountains hung like curtains in a ring around the arid flatland. The roiling black clouds above cast everything in a pallid gloom, as if the whole of the demon's realm stood poised at the moment just before the breaking of a terrible storm.</p>
<p>Creeg pointed to a distant glow, perhaps a dozen miles away beyond a wide swath of sickly woods. "Look there, in the distance," he said. "I think something is burning down there!" </p>
<p>The alchemist removed a large rucksack from his shoulders, placed it upon the ground, and rummaged through its contents, finally producing an elegant spyglass. He held the device to his right eye and glanced at the vista for a moment before furrowing his brow in frustration. "It's definitely a fire," he said, "but I can't make out much detail from here. I think it's some kind of building."</p>
<p>"Let me have a look," said Aebos, snatching the glass from Creeg without waiting for the dandy's permission. The alchemist sneered. Aebos smiled right back at him, pointing to the center of his forehead. "I've got an eye for this sort of work."</p>
<p>Without aid of magnification, Korm could just make out the bright spot beyond the woods that had captured Creeg's attention. Aebos glared through the alchemist's scope and narrated what he saw.</p>
<p>"It's definitely a structure," he said. "Looks like some sort of mansion, like you might find in Andoran or Taldor. Human construction. Well made, too, but it'll be totally consumed within the hour." The cyclops frowned. "Too bad."</p>
<p>"There are ruins not too far from the house," he continued. "Broken stone walls, columns… There are people down there! Hmmmm. No. None of them are moving. Statues. Lots of statues. It seems ancient. Must be the remains of some kind of garden. Looks like the whole place is abandoned."</p>
<p>"Scan the rest of the land down there," Creeg ordered. "See if you can make out any other settlements."</p>
<p>Aebos brought the spyglass across the landscape in a wide, slow arc before shaking his head and handing the implement back to the alchemist. "I see nothing else but pools and trees." </p>
<p>"Then we will set off toward the garden and the burning building," said Creeg. "Juval must be found there, and there is no time to waste." He shouldered his pack and began walking away, seeking a path down from their lofty perch.</p>
<p>"Just wait a second, chef," countered Korm. He pointed in the direction of the distant glow with his saber, letting his spirit rise slightly with the flinch of the pompous alchemist. "How do we know Juval is down there? That's miles away, and we haven't the proper equipment to climb down a sheer mountain. Why would the demon put the entrance to its lair so far away? And how do you fit twenty miles of hellscape inside a glass lens the size of a giant's shield, anyway?"</p>
<p>"I work in chemicals, Calladan," said Creeg. "Not planar physics. Even I don't fully understand how all of this works. But I do understand that Juval has placed the entire kingdom of Nex in danger, and that said danger will not be resolved here on this ledge. We've a long walk ahead of us, and we best start off soon. It looks like more than a day's march to the garden, and I don't relish sleeping in this place any more than I have to."</p>
<p>As he turned with a flourish, Creeg slipped on a bit of scree and fell to one knee with a curse. Why the Lady Iranez had chosen this overconfident glorified cook as their companion in this treacherous land made little sense to Korm, but if she wished to risk her trusted agent in this task, it was her own coin to spend. He doubted the alchemist would survive the journey to the foot of the mountain, let alone make it back to the other side of the lens after making a deal with a demon.</p>
<p>Aebos bent down to collect the bag of Iranez's treasure that lay at his feet, threw an awkward grin at Korm, and set off along the alchemist's trail. Korm sheathed his sword and set out after them, eyeing the linen sack as it bounced upon the cyclops's back with each of the creature's long strides. There was a fortune in there. Surely the demon wouldn't need all of it. Even a handful from the sack would set him and Aebos up for months in Quantium, if not pay their way to any port on the Inner Sea. But in order to spend their reward they'd have to bargain with Juval. And they would have to survive.</p>
<p><center>∗ ∗ ∗</center></p>
<p>Six hours later the trio had reached only halfway down the mountain. Although no sun had been visible in the sky since their arrival, the whole of the demon's world had become progressively darker as they made their way down the rugged terrain, and in the last hour all three of them had slipped and slid within inches of unseen dropoffs and unexpected ravines. Epostian Creeg's fine white leather suit bore jagged tears and stains from shoulders to shins from the coarse red dust that covered the mountain. Korm's left knee still bled from a fall that had shredded the leg of his breeches, and the alchemist's salve had done little to stop the dull pain. The persistent fire of the burning mansion, still visible just above the treeline of the nearing forest, glowed more brightly in the growing gloom, but did little to light their increasingly dangerous path. All of them suspected that a fatal tragedy lay just ahead.</p>
<p>"All right," Korm said, throwing up his hands. "I think we've got to call it a night and rest here. Any more climbing in this darkness is likely to kill us." </p>
<p>Aebos frowned—his vision far surpassed that of a human in the dark—but Epostain Creeg's dust-covered face shone a wave of relief.</p>
<p>"Agreed!" the alchemist said cheerfully, plopping himself down on a low boulder set against a jagged wall of rock twice the height of Aebos. "This vantage should prove easily defensible for the evening. I shall prepare us a meal, for all of this climbing has aroused a demonic hunger in my guts."</p>
<p>At the mention of food, Aebos turned away from their makeshift trail and let out a contented sigh. "That is the wisest thing you have uttered since we arrived," he said. "What provender shall you provide from your satchel?"</p>
<p>Creeg smiled reflexively, his eyebrows high with surprise. "It is nice to be appreciated," he said, struggling to free his arms from the straps of his oversized rucksack. He set the bag on the ground beside him and withdrew a generous metal pot with an engraved lid. This he uncapped, setting the lid beside him on his rocky seat. He placed the pot between his legs. "Our options are somewhat limited under the present conditions," he said, his face a mask of genuine regret. "Before we ventured through the lens I returned to the galley and scavenged some mashed tubers that I'd set aside for dinner. There are cubes of hippogriff within, but I'm afraid the lady Iranez enjoyed the tenderloin the day before yesterday, and all that remains are the lesser shoulder cuts."</p>
<p>Aebos sat himelf upon the ground opposite the pot. "I am sure we will manage," he said, peering into the stew. "Shall we light a fire?"</p>
<p>"We don't need to," Creeg replied. He reached into his bag and retrieved a slender glass tube filled with bright blue liquid. "A little something I cooked up before setting out from Quantium." With an eager grin he unstoppered the tube and flicked his wrist three times. Three dashes of sapphire splashed into the pot, which immediately issued a small cloud of steam. Korm felt steady heat from within the pot as he sat down next to Aebos. Satisfied, Epostian Creeg re-capped his glass tube and placed it into the bag, from which he withdrew a long metal spoon. This he jabbed into the pot, stirring the slurry with enthusiasm.</p>
<p>After a few moments of slience, Korm spoke up. "So what do we know about this demon?" </p>
<p>Creeg looked up from the stew. "We know that it's formless in nature. When Nex trapped the demons within his ships he stripped them utterly of their physical forms. They exist now only as a disembodied presence. After a while the demons learned to possess mortals who came into their realms. Over the centuries, Juval has taken hundreds of forms by possession. It shoves aside the consciousness of a body it wants and wears it as long as it wishes. Because Juval is immortal, its fascination with a given body tends to outlast the lives of its physical forms, but this is no problem because it can always claim another."</p>
<p>As he spoke he drew a small glass cylinder from the bag. Korm recognized the familiar gold flakes—Creeg's signature flavor—from breakfast. The alchemist unscrewed the top of the canister and dumped a generous clump of the stuff into the pot and stirred. After a few moments, Creeg sniffed the stew with an expert nose, but even Korm could tell it was ready to eat. His mouth began to water. His stomach tightened. He swore to himself he would enjoy the meal, no matter what.</p>
<p>Creeg fished three wooden bowls and three short metal spoons from his bag, filled the bowls one at a time, and handed them to Korm and Aebos before tending to himself. The cyclops ignored his spoon and tipped the entire bowl up to his thin lips, practically gurgling the stuff.</p>
<p>"If the demon doesn't want Iranez's treasure, how do we get it to return wind to the seas?" Korm asked, eyeing the beige mess slopped into his bowl. The hippogriff chunks looked like squalid islands in a sea of sludge. Only Creeg's golden flakes brought a touch of class to the dish, and Korm was quite sure he'd had enough of those. "Can we kill it?"</p>
<p>Creeg chewed a bit of stubborn meat before replying. "I doubt very seriously that either of you is capable of such a feat," he said, leaving unsaid whether he thought himself capable of the deed. "And besides, slaying its host body won't do the trick, because Juval can simply reassume its formless nature, in which it is even more difficult to defeat."</p>
<p>"Anything can be defeated," said Aebos, scraping remnants of sauce and mush into his tiny spoon. "You've just got to punch it hard enough."</p>
<p>"You cannot punch what is not there," said Creeg, wiping his bowl clean with a fine linen cloth. "I'm afraid the best way to defeat Juval is to try to best it with words. The Lady Iranez—or rather, her miraculous Orb—seems to think the two of you capable of the job. It's a testament to your glibness that you have survived this long, so I suppose all hope is not yet lost."</p>
<p>Korm scooped a spoon of stew to his mouth and was surprised to find it delicious. Perhaps he could put the <i>Queen's Lament</i> behind him and learn to enjoy food again after all. As he slowly maneuvered his spoon from meat island to meat island, Korm looked out over the horizon to the valley below. Darkness hid the dismal trees and rank puddles, but the flickering light of the burning building at the center of Juval's world drew his attention like a magnet. </p>
<p>"Up there, on the ledge, Aebos said that the house on fire down in the valley would burn itself out within the hour. I can see it myself now that we're closer, and it's definitely still burning. How is that possible?"</p>
<p> Creeg, having finished with dinner, now stood up from the boulder, his rolled sleeping pad tucked under his left arm. He circled Korm and Aebos in a survey of their camp, looking for a bit of flat earth on the jagged mountain ground. "Juval controls everything around us, from the rocks on this mountain to the chill of the air to the sickly grass below our feet. If the building keeps burning, it is because Juval wishes it to be so. We're sitting on a mountain now because Juval wanted a mountain here. We have to risk a plummeting death as we descend because that's the way Juval wanted it. No doubt the demon considers the grueling march a fitting expression of its power over visitors."</p>
<p>Aebos stirred his spoon in the tiny bowl cupped in his hand. "So if Juval controls what this place looks like, what else does it control? Could the demon fold forest and flatland to draw us closer to its lair? What if Juval discovers that we are here?"</p>
<p>Epostian Creeg snorted. "I assume that Juval knew we were here the very moment that we entered its realm."</p>
<p>The alchemist flicked his wrists and unfurled his sleeping pad with a resolute snap.</p>
<br />
<p><b>Coming Next Week</b>: A meeting with a demon in Chapter Four of Erik Mona's "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver."</p>
<p><i>Erik Mona is the Publisher of Paizo Publishing and one of the primary architects of the Pathfinder campaign setting, as well as the former Editor-in-Chief of </i>Dungeon<i> and </i>Dragon<i> magazines. His previous game books have won numerous awards, and include the <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/35E/v5748btpy82t7"></i>Pathfinder Campaign Setting Gazetteer<i></a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/pathfinderRPG/v5748btpy8ief"></i>The Inner Sea World Guide<i></a>, </i>Expedition to the Ruins of Greyhawk<i>, <a href="https://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy7ym6">"The Whispering Cairn" in </i>Dungeon</i> #124</a> (which kicked off the Age of Worms Adventure Path), and <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/adventurePath/legacyOfFire/v5748btpy8735"></i>Pathfinder Adventure Path #19: Howl of the Carrion King<i></a>, among many others. To find out more about Erik, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Erik-Mona-Author/140667695961838?sk=info" target="nofollow">visit his Facebook page</a>.</i></p>
<p><i>Art by John Stanko.</i><p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, John Stanko, Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver, Pathfinder Tales —><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/johnStanko">John Stanko</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction/twoPiecesOfTarnishedSilver">Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</a></p><a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" align="right" border="0" /></a>
<h1>Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</h1>
<p>by Erik Mona</p>
<h2>Chapter Three: Beyond the Demon Lens</h2>
<blockquote>
<p>For a long moment Korm Calladan felt only a pleasant warmth. Gone were the fears of starvation, the thrill of combat in the cramped underdeck of the <i>Queen's Lament</i>, the suspicion of the Lady Iranez and her imposing crew. He knew his cyclops companion Aebos and the preening alchemist Epostian Creeg were somewhere ahead, for they had preceded him through the curved glass lens at the heart of the <i>Relentless</i>, but in the soothing calm he saw only a featureless white haze.</p>
<p>After the rigors of the past weeks, Korm wanted more than anything to linger in this peaceful no-man's land, but his legs seemed determined to carry him forward despite the wishes of his overworked mind. He counted the steps. Upon the sixth, the haze vanished abruptly, and Korm found himself near the edge of a jagged bluff of rigid red stone, his long black hair and considerable mustache whipped by a stark, ill-smelling wind. A thin white outline in the air behind him marked the way back to safety on the other side of the lens. A cackle of ominous thunder ripped through the inky black clouds cloaking the turbid skies above, shaking the ridge.</p>
<p>"I knew it would be just like this," he said with a grimace, drawing his slender sword. His companions stood just beyond the reach of his voice in the whipping wind, surveying the land beyond the cliff's edge. He buttoned his open shirt with his right hand as he approached them.</p>
<p>"What a delightful little world we've found," he said as he reached the rocky ledge, almost yelling over the howling wind. Aebos looked back over his shoulder and smiled at his friend's arrival.</p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Aebos.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Aebos_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="360px"><i>"Don't let the club fool you—Aebos is a lot smarter than he looks."</i></td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>"Perhaps not so little," the cyclops shouted in response. He gestured toward a vast expanse of land that spread from the mountain below into a wide plain spotted with violet pools and copses of feeble, dun-colored trees. Jagged mountains hung like curtains in a ring around the arid flatland. The roiling black clouds above cast everything in a pallid gloom, as if the whole of the demon's realm stood poised at the moment just before the breaking of a terrible storm.</p>
<p>Creeg pointed to a distant glow, perhaps a dozen miles away beyond a wide swath of sickly woods. "Look there, in the distance," he said. "I think something is burning down there!" </p>
<p>The alchemist removed a large rucksack from his shoulders, placed it upon the ground, and rummaged through its contents, finally producing an elegant spyglass. He held the device to his right eye and glanced at the vista for a moment before furrowing his brow in frustration. "It's definitely a fire," he said, "but I can't make out much detail from here. I think it's some kind of building."</p>
<p>"Let me have a look," said Aebos, snatching the glass from Creeg without waiting for the dandy's permission. The alchemist sneered. Aebos smiled right back at him, pointing to the center of his forehead. "I've got an eye for this sort of work."</p>
<p>Without aid of magnification, Korm could just make out the bright spot beyond the woods that had captured Creeg's attention. Aebos glared through the alchemist's scope and narrated what he saw.</p>
<p>"It's definitely a structure," he said. "Looks like some sort of mansion, like you might find in Andoran or Taldor. Human construction. Well made, too, but it'll be totally consumed within the hour." The cyclops frowned. "Too bad."</p>
<p>"There are ruins not too far from the house," he continued. "Broken stone walls, columns… There are people down there! Hmmmm. No. None of them are moving. Statues. Lots of statues. It seems ancient. Must be the remains of some kind of garden. Looks like the whole place is abandoned."</p>
<p>"Scan the rest of the land down there," Creeg ordered. "See if you can make out any other settlements."</p>
<p>Aebos brought the spyglass across the landscape in a wide, slow arc before shaking his head and handing the implement back to the alchemist. "I see nothing else but pools and trees." </p>
<p>"Then we will set off toward the garden and the burning building," said Creeg. "Juval must be found there, and there is no time to waste." He shouldered his pack and began walking away, seeking a path down from their lofty perch.</p>
<p>"Just wait a second, chef," countered Korm. He pointed in the direction of the distant glow with his saber, letting his spirit rise slightly with the flinch of the pompous alchemist. "How do we know Juval is down there? That's miles away, and we haven't the proper equipment to climb down a sheer mountain. Why would the demon put the entrance to its lair so far away? And how do you fit twenty miles of hellscape inside a glass lens the size of a giant's shield, anyway?"</p>
<p>"I work in chemicals, Calladan," said Creeg. "Not planar physics. Even I don't fully understand how all of this works. But I do understand that Juval has placed the entire kingdom of Nex in danger, and that said danger will not be resolved here on this ledge. We've a long walk ahead of us, and we best start off soon. It looks like more than a day's march to the garden, and I don't relish sleeping in this place any more than I have to."</p>
<p>As he turned with a flourish, Creeg slipped on a bit of scree and fell to one knee with a curse. Why the Lady Iranez had chosen this overconfident glorified cook as their companion in this treacherous land made little sense to Korm, but if she wished to risk her trusted agent in this task, it was her own coin to spend. He doubted the alchemist would survive the journey to the foot of the mountain, let alone make it back to the other side of the lens after making a deal with a demon.</p>
<p>Aebos bent down to collect the bag of Iranez's treasure that lay at his feet, threw an awkward grin at Korm, and set off along the alchemist's trail. Korm sheathed his sword and set out after them, eyeing the linen sack as it bounced upon the cyclops's back with each of the creature's long strides. There was a fortune in there. Surely the demon wouldn't need all of it. Even a handful from the sack would set him and Aebos up for months in Quantium, if not pay their way to any port on the Inner Sea. But in order to spend their reward they'd have to bargain with Juval. And they would have to survive.</p>
<p><center>∗ ∗ ∗</center></p>
<p>Six hours later the trio had reached only halfway down the mountain. Although no sun had been visible in the sky since their arrival, the whole of the demon's world had become progressively darker as they made their way down the rugged terrain, and in the last hour all three of them had slipped and slid within inches of unseen dropoffs and unexpected ravines. Epostian Creeg's fine white leather suit bore jagged tears and stains from shoulders to shins from the coarse red dust that covered the mountain. Korm's left knee still bled from a fall that had shredded the leg of his breeches, and the alchemist's salve had done little to stop the dull pain. The persistent fire of the burning mansion, still visible just above the treeline of the nearing forest, glowed more brightly in the growing gloom, but did little to light their increasingly dangerous path. All of them suspected that a fatal tragedy lay just ahead.</p>
<p>"All right," Korm said, throwing up his hands. "I think we've got to call it a night and rest here. Any more climbing in this darkness is likely to kill us." </p>
<p>Aebos frowned—his vision far surpassed that of a human in the dark—but Epostain Creeg's dust-covered face shone a wave of relief.</p>
<p>"Agreed!" the alchemist said cheerfully, plopping himself down on a low boulder set against a jagged wall of rock twice the height of Aebos. "This vantage should prove easily defensible for the evening. I shall prepare us a meal, for all of this climbing has aroused a demonic hunger in my guts."</p>
<p>At the mention of food, Aebos turned away from their makeshift trail and let out a contented sigh. "That is the wisest thing you have uttered since we arrived," he said. "What provender shall you provide from your satchel?"</p>
<p>Creeg smiled reflexively, his eyebrows high with surprise. "It is nice to be appreciated," he said, struggling to free his arms from the straps of his oversized rucksack. He set the bag on the ground beside him and withdrew a generous metal pot with an engraved lid. This he uncapped, setting the lid beside him on his rocky seat. He placed the pot between his legs. "Our options are somewhat limited under the present conditions," he said, his face a mask of genuine regret. "Before we ventured through the lens I returned to the galley and scavenged some mashed tubers that I'd set aside for dinner. There are cubes of hippogriff within, but I'm afraid the lady Iranez enjoyed the tenderloin the day before yesterday, and all that remains are the lesser shoulder cuts."</p>
<p>Aebos sat himelf upon the ground opposite the pot. "I am sure we will manage," he said, peering into the stew. "Shall we light a fire?"</p>
<p>"We don't need to," Creeg replied. He reached into his bag and retrieved a slender glass tube filled with bright blue liquid. "A little something I cooked up before setting out from Quantium." With an eager grin he unstoppered the tube and flicked his wrist three times. Three dashes of sapphire splashed into the pot, which immediately issued a small cloud of steam. Korm felt steady heat from within the pot as he sat down next to Aebos. Satisfied, Epostian Creeg re-capped his glass tube and placed it into the bag, from which he withdrew a long metal spoon. This he jabbed into the pot, stirring the slurry with enthusiasm.</p>
<p>After a few moments of slience, Korm spoke up. "So what do we know about this demon?" </p>
<p>Creeg looked up from the stew. "We know that it's formless in nature. When Nex trapped the demons within his ships he stripped them utterly of their physical forms. They exist now only as a disembodied presence. After a while the demons learned to possess mortals who came into their realms. Over the centuries, Juval has taken hundreds of forms by possession. It shoves aside the consciousness of a body it wants and wears it as long as it wishes. Because Juval is immortal, its fascination with a given body tends to outlast the lives of its physical forms, but this is no problem because it can always claim another."</p>
<p>As he spoke he drew a small glass cylinder from the bag. Korm recognized the familiar gold flakes—Creeg's signature flavor—from breakfast. The alchemist unscrewed the top of the canister and dumped a generous clump of the stuff into the pot and stirred. After a few moments, Creeg sniffed the stew with an expert nose, but even Korm could tell it was ready to eat. His mouth began to water. His stomach tightened. He swore to himself he would enjoy the meal, no matter what.</p>
<p>Creeg fished three wooden bowls and three short metal spoons from his bag, filled the bowls one at a time, and handed them to Korm and Aebos before tending to himself. The cyclops ignored his spoon and tipped the entire bowl up to his thin lips, practically gurgling the stuff.</p>
<p>"If the demon doesn't want Iranez's treasure, how do we get it to return wind to the seas?" Korm asked, eyeing the beige mess slopped into his bowl. The hippogriff chunks looked like squalid islands in a sea of sludge. Only Creeg's golden flakes brought a touch of class to the dish, and Korm was quite sure he'd had enough of those. "Can we kill it?"</p>
<p>Creeg chewed a bit of stubborn meat before replying. "I doubt very seriously that either of you is capable of such a feat," he said, leaving unsaid whether he thought himself capable of the deed. "And besides, slaying its host body won't do the trick, because Juval can simply reassume its formless nature, in which it is even more difficult to defeat."</p>
<p>"Anything can be defeated," said Aebos, scraping remnants of sauce and mush into his tiny spoon. "You've just got to punch it hard enough."</p>
<p>"You cannot punch what is not there," said Creeg, wiping his bowl clean with a fine linen cloth. "I'm afraid the best way to defeat Juval is to try to best it with words. The Lady Iranez—or rather, her miraculous Orb—seems to think the two of you capable of the job. It's a testament to your glibness that you have survived this long, so I suppose all hope is not yet lost."</p>
<p>Korm scooped a spoon of stew to his mouth and was surprised to find it delicious. Perhaps he could put the <i>Queen's Lament</i> behind him and learn to enjoy food again after all. As he slowly maneuvered his spoon from meat island to meat island, Korm looked out over the horizon to the valley below. Darkness hid the dismal trees and rank puddles, but the flickering light of the burning building at the center of Juval's world drew his attention like a magnet. </p>
<p>"Up there, on the ledge, Aebos said that the house on fire down in the valley would burn itself out within the hour. I can see it myself now that we're closer, and it's definitely still burning. How is that possible?"</p>
<p> Creeg, having finished with dinner, now stood up from the boulder, his rolled sleeping pad tucked under his left arm. He circled Korm and Aebos in a survey of their camp, looking for a bit of flat earth on the jagged mountain ground. "Juval controls everything around us, from the rocks on this mountain to the chill of the air to the sickly grass below our feet. If the building keeps burning, it is because Juval wishes it to be so. We're sitting on a mountain now because Juval wanted a mountain here. We have to risk a plummeting death as we descend because that's the way Juval wanted it. No doubt the demon considers the grueling march a fitting expression of its power over visitors."</p>
<p>Aebos stirred his spoon in the tiny bowl cupped in his hand. "So if Juval controls what this place looks like, what else does it control? Could the demon fold forest and flatland to draw us closer to its lair? What if Juval discovers that we are here?"</p>
<p>Epostian Creeg snorted. "I assume that Juval knew we were here the very moment that we entered its realm."</p>
<p>The alchemist flicked his wrists and unfurled his sleeping pad with a resolute snap.</p>
<br />
<p><b>Coming Next Week</b>: A meeting with a demon in Chapter Four of Erik Mona's "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver."</p>
<p><i>Erik Mona is the Publisher of Paizo Publishing and one of the primary architects of the Pathfinder campaign setting, as well as the former Editor-in-Chief of </i>Dungeon<i> and </i>Dragon<i> magazines. His previous game books have won numerous awards, and include the <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/35E/v5748btpy82t7"></i>Pathfinder Campaign Setting Gazetteer<i></a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/pathfinderRPG/v5748btpy8ief"></i>The Inner Sea World Guide<i></a>, </i>Expedition to the Ruins of Greyhawk<i>, <a href="https://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy7ym6">"The Whispering Cairn" in </i>Dungeon</i> #124</a> (which kicked off the Age of Worms Adventure Path), and <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/adventurePath/legacyOfFire/v5748btpy8735"></i>Pathfinder Adventure Path #19: Howl of the Carrion King<i></a>, among many others. To find out more about Erik, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Erik-Mona-Author/140667695961838?sk=info" target="nofollow">visit his Facebook page</a>.</i></p>
<p><i>Art by John Stanko.</i><p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, John Stanko, Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver, Pathfinder Tales —><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/johnStanko">John Stanko</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction/twoPiecesOfTarnishedSilver">Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</a></p>2011-05-04T17:00:00ZTwo Pieces of Tarnished Silver--Chapter Two: Breaking Fasthttps://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5lc4j?Two-Pieces-of-Tarnished-SilverChapter-Two2011-04-27T17:00:00Z<a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" align="right" border="0" /></a>
<h1>Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</h1>
<p>by Erik Mona</p>
<h2>Chapter Two: Breaking Fast</h2>
<blockquote>
<p>Korm and Aebos emerged into the morning sun to find the bodies of their crewmates hacked apart and bleeding upon the midship deck. Red-fletched crossbow bolts stuck out from the corpses at odd angles. Korm's empty stomach lurched, and with a grimace the slender swordsman realized that the carnage had caused his mouth to water with anticipation. An hour ago, here on the windless barrens of a stillswept sea, the ship's gory deck would have been the platter for a life-saving feast. As he warily eyed the dozen armored men who circled them and held loaded heavy crossbows at the ready, Korm wondered how long that life would last. </p>
<p>At the head of the armed brigade stood the dark-hued woman whose arrival had saved them from the knives of the cannibal crew. Despite the readied weapons of her warriors, despite the bodies and severed limbs littering the deck at her feet, the woman's posture betrayed no hint of alarm or worry. Even the most hardened warriors often lost some of their composure in the presence of Aebos, for the day of the cyclopes had passed millennia ago, and the race stood on the precipice of legend. But the woman and her troops all came from the wizard kingdom of Nex, where swordsmen were little cause for concern, and strange, inhuman creatures walked the city streets as a matter of course.</p>
<p>"I'm glad we were able to find you when we did," the woman said with a thin smile. "My alchemist has been toiling away at breakfast for hours now, and it would be a shame not to honor the sole survivors of the <i>Queen's Lament</i>. So sad that the ship sank with nearly all hands aboard, but these are difficult times for pirates."</p>
<p>"I'm not hungry," Korm said, almost too quickly. </p>
<p>"The ribs showing beneath your shirt suggest otherwise, Mister Calladan," she replied. "Of course you are free to deny the invitation, but in that case I suggest you start looking for the choicest cuts of meat here on the deck, before the ship sinks and you have to wrestle them out of the mouths of sharks."</p>
<p>"You seem to know a lot about us," Aebos said warily, rubbing his meaty hands clean on a bit of shirt stolen from one of the dead crewmen at the top of the stairs. "But we don't know anything about you."</p>
<p>"On the contrary," the woman said. "You know that we are friends. My men do not want for ammunition, and two more shots would have made very little difference. But we spared you. It should be obvious that we mean you no harm."</p>
<p>Korm and Aebos shared a stern glance.</p>
<p>"I am Iranez," she said. "Of the Orb. Chiefmost among the Council of Three and Nine that rules in the name of the Archwizard Nex from the port of Quantium, three days to the west. I've got a ship that can sail without wind, a table topped with food prepared by the most talented chef in all of Garund, and chairs for two at the head of it. And I grow weary of waiting. Won't you please be my guests?"</p>
<p>"We seem to have little choice," Korm scowled.</p>
<p>"Oh, lighten up, Mister Calladan!" She pivoted on a slippered foot and laughed over her shoulder. "I'm fairly certain my men and I just saved your lives."</p>
<p>The soldiers shifted starboard, urging Korm and Aebos along in their wake. The cyclops bent down to whisper in his partner's ear. </p>
<p>"She's probably right, you know," he said. "Besides, what harm can come of it?"</p>
<p>Korm frowned. "Ask me again after I've had a bit of her alchemist's breakfast."</p>
<p>As the group approached the starboard rails, Iranez's ship came into view, and Korm's breath caught in his throat. Thin cords, gangplanks, and rope bridges connected the <i>Queen's Lament</i> to the attacking vessel, but the two boats could hardly have been more different. Iranez's ship stood tall in the water on two sleek hulls, like a catamaran, and came to a sharp point at the front, as if designed to slip through waves like a knife slides through a ribcage. Its smooth surface looked as if it had been shaped from ceramic or carved from lightweight stone. Two tall, impossibly thin masts rose from the slender deck, but neither had been rigged with a sail. However the Nexian ship had made it alongside the <i>Queen's Lament</i>, it had arrived under its own power. </p>
<p>"Gentlemen," said Iranez, "I present the <i>Relentless</i>, very nearly the last of its kind. Shaped by the otherworldly shipwrights of the archmage Nex himself, she once stood at the vanguard of our nation's armada. I rescued her from a sargasso on the edge of the Eye of Abendego a century ago, and she's been my personal vessel ever since."</p>
<p>As Iranez turned to admire the ship, she gently placed her left hand upon the top of the orb at her side, which seemed to hover of its own accord. The crystalline sphere pulsed with a soft green illumination, and the woman's slippered feet lifted off the deck. Without any hint of effort, the Nexian rose over the siderail and glided across a dozen feet of open ocean toward her vessel. The armored guards sheathed their weapons and scampered across the ropes and planks connecting the ships. Aebos looked to his companion, shrugged, and scrambled after them.</p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Iranez.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Iranez_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="360px"><i>"Just because Iranez saves your life doesn't mean she can be trusted."</i></td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>Korm stepped forward and looked over the deckrail to the glistening azure waters between both ships. The high morning sun shone brightly upon the placid surface, giving the water a radiant, almost mystical quality. In the last weeks he had come to think of the sea as a prison, and very likely a tomb. Now he saw the brilliant blue as a crystal portal between two dimensions, a wizard's membrane separating the world of the living from the world of the dead. Without so much as a glance behind him, Korm hauled himself up onto the rail near a thin gangplank and took a decisive step toward life.</p>
<p align="center">∗ ∗ ∗</p>
<p>The alchemist's lips quivered in self-satisfaction as the translucent slug pulled a trail of brilliant amber across the serving tray. "We begin with a delicacy unique to the untamed jungles west of our homeland, brought to the table of Lady Iranez by the reach of almighty Nex's unparalleled merchant network and prepared by yours truly, Epostian Creeg."</p>
<p>From his vantage at the head of the table, the well-manicured dandy raised an eyebrow and surveyed his audience for reaction to his name. Iranez offered a thin smile while Korm and Aebos looked on without expression. He continued.</p>
<p>"The creature's slime deadens the tongue's acidity, triggering a mild euphoria in the taster. When combined with the ink of the Blanchess urchin smuggled from the depths of Lake Ocota, this effect unlocks what the Mwangi mystics call the 'seventh flavor,' a sensation ordinarily reserved for their haughty, ancient spirit-gods."</p>
<p>He surveyed the panoply of dining implements before him—mirrored at each place setting—and gingerly selected a long length of polished whale bone stained with dark purple resin. The three diners followed suit. Iranez drew her bone across the viscid trail, gathering a dollop of slime no larger than a silver coin upon the flattened end. Epostian Creeg returned a smile and nod, and the woman brought the slime to her tongue with a steady, practiced hand. She carefully placed the implement back on the table, closed her eyes, and focused on the sensation. Her nostrils flared and her head fell back slightly, betraying just a hint of ecstasy. Korm looked awkwardly toward his companion across the table, unsure of his next move. For his part, the cyclops eagerly dipped his stick into the slime and brought it to his wide mouth. His huge eye shut almost immediately, and Korm noticed swift movements behind the lid, as if his friend were dreaming. Korm felt Creeg's eyes upon him. Expectant. </p>
<p>He hadn't eaten proper food in weeks, he thought, musing on the change in perspective that had classified euphoric slug slime as "proper food." It beat human, anyway. With a resigned sigh and an eye on some of the more appetizing provender crowding the table, Korm dipped his utensil into the trail and reluctantly raised the amber slime to his tongue. </p>
<p>It had an earthy, sharp taste Korm usually associated with poison, but just as soon as it registered the sensation faded into a dull, comfortable stupefaction that began at the tip of his tongue and ran slowly down his throat and into his chest. Almost against his will, Korm's heavy head tilted back against the padded chair and his shoulders began to sink into a pleasant lethargy. For the first time in weeks, Korm Calladan allowed himself to relax. </p>
<p>"A fitting start for what it to come," the alchemist said, eyes flashing, "for the slime is but the first of eleven courses we will enjoy this morning." Creeg motioned to a long porcelain tray to his left, drawing his slender fingers across a meticulous display of dozens of small gray hard-boiled eggs shot through with flaky gold spices that sparkled in the nimbus of Iranez's orb. </p>
<p>"In the wilds of Nex's southern plains, too near the treacherous, blasted landscape of the Mana Wastes for human settlement, dwells a peculiar avian known to the roving tribes as the aubekan. Aubekans mate for life, and a pair of these rare birds produces a single offspring only once every six years. These creatures never survive in captivity, but their eggs convey a rich flavor unlike that of any other creature on Golarion. When seasoned with a special spice of my own creation, these eggs serve as the perfect opening to our feast."</p>
<p>Without need for further explanation, Aebos reached across the table and grasped a half-dozen eggs in his powerful hand. Smiling at Korm under a heavy-lidded eye, the giant threw the whole handful into his mouth, smacking his lips with all the decorum of a <i>Queen's Lament</i> crewman feasting on his fellow sailor. Iranez selected a single egg, spearing it on a long-tined fork and cutting it into several pieces on her fine porcelain plate before taking tiny, delicate bites. Korm followed suit, bringing a small portion of aubekan egg to his mouth.</p>
<p>It didn't taste anything like he expected. Creeg's golden spice gave the egg a powdery consistency that didn't match its succulent appearance. At first he detected a hint of sourness redolent of a ripe apple, but the sensation soon slipped to sharpness suggestive of aged cheese. Korm wondered if the shifting tastes were inherent to the aubekan egg, to the euphoric slime, or simply to his weariness and recent unfamiliarity with decent food. Before he could decide, the flavor changed again, and the swordsman almost spit out the egg into his embroidered napkin. It tasted just like every meal he had eaten in the last month. Like human.</p>
<p>Aebos didn't seem to notice, and kept shoveling the gray-and-gold delicacies into his huge mouth. Iranez and Epostian Creeg both marveled at the cyclops's appetite, completely ignoring Korm, oblivious to his growing disgust. As Aebos neared the end of the tray, Creeg turned to a wide plate to his right, cleared his throat quietly, and continued.</p>
<p>"Next we have a rare delicacy claimed from the deep waters east of Katapesh: the finest ocean caviar wrapped in the dried skin of a giant river gar, pierced by mussel skewers flavored with a variety of spices imported from distant Tian Xia and supplemented with a unique herbal blend of my own design."</p>
<p>Each portion of the extravagant dish measured no wider than the palm of Korm's hand, so it was a good thing that Creeg had prepared far more than a single serving for each diner. Again, Aebos devoured the stuff moments after its introduction, tossing the packets of fish eggs into his maw three at a time. One was enough for Korm. Again, the dish produced a profusion of flavors ending in the familiar tang of long pig. </p>
<p>Each course that followed was the same. Meticulously prepared and delicately spiced with Creeg's golden flakes, the plates looked more like fine art than food, yet despite his hunger, Korm had to force himself to continue. After the caviar, everything started to run together in his mind, and they all led to the same revolting conclusion. To Korm, everything tasted like human.</p>
<p>Boletus and dungeness crab handkerchiefs. Human. Aurochs tongue on a bed of pesh flowers. Human. Truffled mammoth curd. Human. His fellow diners didn't seem to notice, treating each new course as a wonderful delicacy to be savored and enjoyed. After a while Korm decided his affliction was psychological, and once he had swallowed enough of Creeg's food to stave off starvation, he took only the smallest of bites, tuned out the alchemist's pretentious presentation, and allowed his mind to wander. </p>
<p>With walls of dark wood appointed with elaborate trim along the floor and ceiling, the room in which they dined conveyed a sense of power and wealth. At most six diners could sit around the fine marble-topped table, suggesting that the ship's crew was meant to dine elsewhere, in a presumably far more humble setting. Finely wrought wooden doors marked the port and starboard walls. They'd come in from the port, and Korm suspected the opposite door led to the quarters of the ship's senior staff. His mind subconsciously began to wonder what the bedchambers of a national ruler might look like, and Korm smiled as he sensed the return of his old self now that food and freedom were at hand. </p>
<p>At the head of the table, Epostian Creeg gestured with his left hand, his first two fingers raised to the ceiling as he extolled the virtues of the next course. Korm didn't pay attention to his words, but rather focused on the man's meticulous appearance. Dressed in a supple white leather suit cut to the latest fashion and accented by a brilliant red flower in the buttonhole of his left breast pocket, Creeg appeared every bit the royal attendant he was. His short blond hair was freshly trimmed, his smooth skin without a hint of dirt or blemish. Like his beautiful dishes, every aspect of his demeanor and dress seemed perfectly arranged to impress.</p>
<p>A massive symbol imprinted on the wall behind Creeg framed the alchemist in a perfect circle, between two diagonal lines that suggested a road disappearing over the horizon. The image reminded Korm of the mystical symbols adorning the few alchemical reference works he'd perused in his travels, and the swordsman let out a soft snort as he decided that the pompous dandy had probably planned that, too. No doubt the alchemist fancied the dramatics of appearing to stand at the head of a long road leading to the infinite horizons of enlightenment. And then it hit him.</p>
<p>He'd seen that symbol before.</p>
<p>Creeg paused his presentation for a moment, and Korm decided it was his turn to speak. He turned to Iranez of the Orb.</p>
<p>"If you sit on the Council of Quantium," he asked matter-of-factly, "why does your dining chamber bear the seal of the Pathfinder Society?"</p>
<p>Iranez raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise. "You've encountered it?"</p>
<p>"I was raised in Daggermark and spent my first two decades traveling up and down the River Road," Korm said, trying not to sneer. "You'd be surprised by what I've encountered."</p>
<p>Iranez pursed her lips in a bemused expression, clearly unused to being chided by a social inferior.</p>
<p>"Your travels serve you well," she said. "The glyph is the mark of the vessel's previous owner, a questing hero named Durvin Gest, one of the founders of that guild of explorers. He somehow infused the surface of the wall with the symbol, and no means arcane or otherwise can remove or obscure it. Believe me, I've tried. It is a mar on the eldritch craft of the archmage Nex himself, created fifty centuries ago in the Age of Destiny. Imagine discovering a perfect Azlanti statue carved by the finest artisan of that bygone kingdom of legend, preserved for thousands of years just as its creator intended. Then imagine chiseling the crude face of your sallow-cheeked daughter over the original, simply to satisfy your own sense of vanity and pride. It is an affront."</p>
<p>"I kind of like it," said Aebos, mouth full.</p>
<p>"Indeed," Korm added. "An indelible symbol imprinted by a long-dead famous hero. It adds a sort of mystery to the ship."</p>
<p>"The ship has plenty of mystery of its own," scoffed Creeg.</p>
<p>Iranez nodded. "One such mystery is the cause of your rescue, and the price of your freedom." She smiled as Korm and Aebos turned to her with a start. There had been no prior discussion of a fee.</p>
<p>"The Orb seems to believe that the two of you represent the best chance we have to remedy a wrong that has brought much grief to the seas of Nex."</p>
<p>"Wait," Korm asked. "You speak to the Orb?"</p>
<p>"The Orb speaks to me. 'Whispers' is perhaps a more accurate term, for its words are meant only for my ears, and cannot be heard by others."</p>
<p>"That's convenient," said Aebos.</p>
<p>"I have found it to be so," she admitted. "On more than one occasion the Orb has saved my life, or led me to a decision that enhanced the fortunes of the Council, the nation, or its people. Over long years I have learned to trust its declarations."</p>
<p>Aebos cut to the point. "You speak of a grief upon the seas. You mean the stillness of the water? The lack of wind?"</p>
<p>"The same," she said. "Tell me, Korm, in your travels along the River Road, did you ever hear about the demon ships?"</p>
<p>Korm's eyes narrowed at the mention of demons. "Can't say that I did," he said, monotone.</p>
<p>"They date from the last days of the Age of Destiny, when the archmage Nex turned to conquest upon the seas to broaden the scope of his kingdom. Unwilling to bow to the might of storms or the whims of the wind, Nex sought a method to propel his fleet to military victories regardless of weather."</p>
<p>Creeg spoke up, interrupting his mistress. "He found his method by binding the souls of powerful demons into enormous, perfectly cut glass lenses, which he bonded to his ships in a supreme act of arcane mastery. While imprisoned within the false reality of the lens, the demon's essence suffused every element of the ship, from its navigation to the fine details of its appearance. In a very real sense, the ship became the creature's skin, though its mind remained forever hidden away."</p>
<p>"In all of our rich history," Iranez continued, "no demon has broken free from its lens or betrayed its captain. Until now."</p>
<p>"Let me guess," Korm said. "The <i>Relentless</i> is one of these demon ships?"</p>
<p>"Indeed it is," said Iranez. "And until recently it had been an unusually docile specimen of its kind."</p>
<p>"But then something happened," said Aebos, "and the demon's control extended to the waters around the ship. This whole business is your fault."</p>
<p>"This business is <i>the demon's</i> fault," Creeg corrected. "It simply decided to rebel for reasons of its own that we have not yet been able to discern. That is why we turn to you. You must resolve the situation with the demon at the heart of the ship. The disruption to trade must not be traced back to the lady."</p>
<p>Korm furrowed his brow. "And how, exactly, do we get the demon to change its ways?"</p>
<p>Iranez lowered her left arm toward the floor, from whence she hauled a fine linen bag and placed it upon the table. As it landed with a loud clink, the lip of the bag dipped below the considerable bulk of its contents, revealing the glimmering edge of a crown and the sparkle of a scepter topped with what appeared to be a large emerald. Aebos's eyebrow lifted.</p>
<p>Iranez spoke softly, her golden eyes perfectly locked with the gray of Korm's, her face a picture of calm and practiced diplomacy. "The creature calls itself Juval. I believe that it can be reasoned with. Like any demon, it is subject to powerful desires that can be twisted to manipulate the creature to your own ends. In this case, the wealth collected here will serve to stoke its avarice."</p>
<p>Korm stared at the bag of treasure for a long while before returning his attention to Iranez. "You rule an entire nation and own a ship with a demon in it. Aebos and I are not your lackeys. Why don't you do this yourself?"</p>
<p>Iranez sighed softly. "No kingdom in all of Golarion has as many wizards and mystics as does my homeland of Nex. As a supreme agent of the Council of Three and Nine, my every action is scried, scrutinized, and divined by numerous factions. By special design, this chamber has the power to block such divinations. This power alone allows me to speak of Juval and its influence over the waves, for if I did so elsewhere word of my involvement would reach all quarters of Quantium within the hour."</p>
<p>Korm scoffed. "The politics of Nex are none of our concern."</p>
<p>The alchemist's eyes widened comically and his jaw went slack. "The utter insolence! The Lady Iranez rescued you from certain death and brought you into her confidence! And she has provided you with this resplendent meal."</p>
<p>"This is her demon," Korm responded. "Her problem. The way I see it, the Lady Iranez and her demon have provided me with all of my recent meals."</p>
<p>"Mister Calladan," said Iranez, "you survived the River Road and the dangers of distant Vudra. I have faith in your ability to talk yourself out of a problem, as does the Orb. You must pass through the lens into the demon's territory. There, you must convince Juval to withdraw its influence to the ship itself, and return the winds and waves to the waters surrounding Nex. What trinkets Juval does not claim are yours to keep, with my blessing. Upon your return from the world of the lens, I promise you safe passage to Quantium."</p>
<p>A wide grin broke across Aebos's face. "My lady," he said, "we could have saved significant anguish if you had led with the bit about us getting to keep the treasure. We will agree to your terms."</p>
<p>"As if the two of you reprobates deserve any riches beyond your lives," snapped Epostian Creeg. "My service to the Lady Iranez has convinced me to trust the guidance of the Orb, but what it sees in you, I cannot tell. I do not believe that the two of you can be trusted."</p>
<p>"Nor, I confess, do I," said Iranez, her voice tinged with a hint of regret soon erased by a wan smile. "To ensure that our needs are met, Korm and Aebos will be accompanied by my most trusted agent, Epostian Creeg."</p>
<p>The alchemist's face turned as white as his fine leather suit.</p>
<br />
<p><b>Coming Next Week</b>: Adventures in a new dimension in Chapter Three of Erik Mona's "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver."</p>
<p><i>Erik Mona is the Publisher of Paizo Publishing and one of the primary architects of the Pathfinder campaign setting, as well as the former Editor-in-Chief of </i>Dungeon<i> and </i>Dragon<i> magazines. His previous game books have won numerous awards, and include the <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/35E/v5748btpy82t7"></i>Pathfinder Campaign Setting Gazetteer<i></a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/pathfinderRPG/v5748btpy8ief"></i>The Inner Sea World Guide<i></a>, </i>Expedition to the Ruins of Greyhawk<i>, <a href="https://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy7ym6">"The Whispering Cairn" in </i>Dungeon</i> #124</a> (which kicked off the Age of Worms Adventure Path), and <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/adventurePath/legacyOfFire/v5748btpy8735"></i>Pathfinder Adventure Path #19: Howl of the Carrion King<i></a>, among many others. To find out more about Erik, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Erik-Mona-Author/140667695961838?sk=info" target="nofollow">visit his Facebook page</a>.</i></p>
<p><i>Art by John Stanko.</i><p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, John Stanko, Pathfinder Tales, Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver, Witches —><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/johnStanko">John Stanko</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction/twoPiecesOfTarnishedSilver">Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/classes/witches">Witches</a></p><a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" align="right" border="0" /></a>
<h1>Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</h1>
<p>by Erik Mona</p>
<h2>Chapter Two: Breaking Fast</h2>
<blockquote>
<p>Korm and Aebos emerged into the morning sun to find the bodies of their crewmates hacked apart and bleeding upon the midship deck. Red-fletched crossbow bolts stuck out from the corpses at odd angles. Korm's empty stomach lurched, and with a grimace the slender swordsman realized that the carnage had caused his mouth to water with anticipation. An hour ago, here on the windless barrens of a stillswept sea, the ship's gory deck would have been the platter for a life-saving feast. As he warily eyed the dozen armored men who circled them and held loaded heavy crossbows at the ready, Korm wondered how long that life would last. </p>
<p>At the head of the armed brigade stood the dark-hued woman whose arrival had saved them from the knives of the cannibal crew. Despite the readied weapons of her warriors, despite the bodies and severed limbs littering the deck at her feet, the woman's posture betrayed no hint of alarm or worry. Even the most hardened warriors often lost some of their composure in the presence of Aebos, for the day of the cyclopes had passed millennia ago, and the race stood on the precipice of legend. But the woman and her troops all came from the wizard kingdom of Nex, where swordsmen were little cause for concern, and strange, inhuman creatures walked the city streets as a matter of course.</p>
<p>"I'm glad we were able to find you when we did," the woman said with a thin smile. "My alchemist has been toiling away at breakfast for hours now, and it would be a shame not to honor the sole survivors of the <i>Queen's Lament</i>. So sad that the ship sank with nearly all hands aboard, but these are difficult times for pirates."</p>
<p>"I'm not hungry," Korm said, almost too quickly. </p>
<p>"The ribs showing beneath your shirt suggest otherwise, Mister Calladan," she replied. "Of course you are free to deny the invitation, but in that case I suggest you start looking for the choicest cuts of meat here on the deck, before the ship sinks and you have to wrestle them out of the mouths of sharks."</p>
<p>"You seem to know a lot about us," Aebos said warily, rubbing his meaty hands clean on a bit of shirt stolen from one of the dead crewmen at the top of the stairs. "But we don't know anything about you."</p>
<p>"On the contrary," the woman said. "You know that we are friends. My men do not want for ammunition, and two more shots would have made very little difference. But we spared you. It should be obvious that we mean you no harm."</p>
<p>Korm and Aebos shared a stern glance.</p>
<p>"I am Iranez," she said. "Of the Orb. Chiefmost among the Council of Three and Nine that rules in the name of the Archwizard Nex from the port of Quantium, three days to the west. I've got a ship that can sail without wind, a table topped with food prepared by the most talented chef in all of Garund, and chairs for two at the head of it. And I grow weary of waiting. Won't you please be my guests?"</p>
<p>"We seem to have little choice," Korm scowled.</p>
<p>"Oh, lighten up, Mister Calladan!" She pivoted on a slippered foot and laughed over her shoulder. "I'm fairly certain my men and I just saved your lives."</p>
<p>The soldiers shifted starboard, urging Korm and Aebos along in their wake. The cyclops bent down to whisper in his partner's ear. </p>
<p>"She's probably right, you know," he said. "Besides, what harm can come of it?"</p>
<p>Korm frowned. "Ask me again after I've had a bit of her alchemist's breakfast."</p>
<p>As the group approached the starboard rails, Iranez's ship came into view, and Korm's breath caught in his throat. Thin cords, gangplanks, and rope bridges connected the <i>Queen's Lament</i> to the attacking vessel, but the two boats could hardly have been more different. Iranez's ship stood tall in the water on two sleek hulls, like a catamaran, and came to a sharp point at the front, as if designed to slip through waves like a knife slides through a ribcage. Its smooth surface looked as if it had been shaped from ceramic or carved from lightweight stone. Two tall, impossibly thin masts rose from the slender deck, but neither had been rigged with a sail. However the Nexian ship had made it alongside the <i>Queen's Lament</i>, it had arrived under its own power. </p>
<p>"Gentlemen," said Iranez, "I present the <i>Relentless</i>, very nearly the last of its kind. Shaped by the otherworldly shipwrights of the archmage Nex himself, she once stood at the vanguard of our nation's armada. I rescued her from a sargasso on the edge of the Eye of Abendego a century ago, and she's been my personal vessel ever since."</p>
<p>As Iranez turned to admire the ship, she gently placed her left hand upon the top of the orb at her side, which seemed to hover of its own accord. The crystalline sphere pulsed with a soft green illumination, and the woman's slippered feet lifted off the deck. Without any hint of effort, the Nexian rose over the siderail and glided across a dozen feet of open ocean toward her vessel. The armored guards sheathed their weapons and scampered across the ropes and planks connecting the ships. Aebos looked to his companion, shrugged, and scrambled after them.</p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Iranez.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Iranez_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="360px"><i>"Just because Iranez saves your life doesn't mean she can be trusted."</i></td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>Korm stepped forward and looked over the deckrail to the glistening azure waters between both ships. The high morning sun shone brightly upon the placid surface, giving the water a radiant, almost mystical quality. In the last weeks he had come to think of the sea as a prison, and very likely a tomb. Now he saw the brilliant blue as a crystal portal between two dimensions, a wizard's membrane separating the world of the living from the world of the dead. Without so much as a glance behind him, Korm hauled himself up onto the rail near a thin gangplank and took a decisive step toward life.</p>
<p align="center">∗ ∗ ∗</p>
<p>The alchemist's lips quivered in self-satisfaction as the translucent slug pulled a trail of brilliant amber across the serving tray. "We begin with a delicacy unique to the untamed jungles west of our homeland, brought to the table of Lady Iranez by the reach of almighty Nex's unparalleled merchant network and prepared by yours truly, Epostian Creeg."</p>
<p>From his vantage at the head of the table, the well-manicured dandy raised an eyebrow and surveyed his audience for reaction to his name. Iranez offered a thin smile while Korm and Aebos looked on without expression. He continued.</p>
<p>"The creature's slime deadens the tongue's acidity, triggering a mild euphoria in the taster. When combined with the ink of the Blanchess urchin smuggled from the depths of Lake Ocota, this effect unlocks what the Mwangi mystics call the 'seventh flavor,' a sensation ordinarily reserved for their haughty, ancient spirit-gods."</p>
<p>He surveyed the panoply of dining implements before him—mirrored at each place setting—and gingerly selected a long length of polished whale bone stained with dark purple resin. The three diners followed suit. Iranez drew her bone across the viscid trail, gathering a dollop of slime no larger than a silver coin upon the flattened end. Epostian Creeg returned a smile and nod, and the woman brought the slime to her tongue with a steady, practiced hand. She carefully placed the implement back on the table, closed her eyes, and focused on the sensation. Her nostrils flared and her head fell back slightly, betraying just a hint of ecstasy. Korm looked awkwardly toward his companion across the table, unsure of his next move. For his part, the cyclops eagerly dipped his stick into the slime and brought it to his wide mouth. His huge eye shut almost immediately, and Korm noticed swift movements behind the lid, as if his friend were dreaming. Korm felt Creeg's eyes upon him. Expectant. </p>
<p>He hadn't eaten proper food in weeks, he thought, musing on the change in perspective that had classified euphoric slug slime as "proper food." It beat human, anyway. With a resigned sigh and an eye on some of the more appetizing provender crowding the table, Korm dipped his utensil into the trail and reluctantly raised the amber slime to his tongue. </p>
<p>It had an earthy, sharp taste Korm usually associated with poison, but just as soon as it registered the sensation faded into a dull, comfortable stupefaction that began at the tip of his tongue and ran slowly down his throat and into his chest. Almost against his will, Korm's heavy head tilted back against the padded chair and his shoulders began to sink into a pleasant lethargy. For the first time in weeks, Korm Calladan allowed himself to relax. </p>
<p>"A fitting start for what it to come," the alchemist said, eyes flashing, "for the slime is but the first of eleven courses we will enjoy this morning." Creeg motioned to a long porcelain tray to his left, drawing his slender fingers across a meticulous display of dozens of small gray hard-boiled eggs shot through with flaky gold spices that sparkled in the nimbus of Iranez's orb. </p>
<p>"In the wilds of Nex's southern plains, too near the treacherous, blasted landscape of the Mana Wastes for human settlement, dwells a peculiar avian known to the roving tribes as the aubekan. Aubekans mate for life, and a pair of these rare birds produces a single offspring only once every six years. These creatures never survive in captivity, but their eggs convey a rich flavor unlike that of any other creature on Golarion. When seasoned with a special spice of my own creation, these eggs serve as the perfect opening to our feast."</p>
<p>Without need for further explanation, Aebos reached across the table and grasped a half-dozen eggs in his powerful hand. Smiling at Korm under a heavy-lidded eye, the giant threw the whole handful into his mouth, smacking his lips with all the decorum of a <i>Queen's Lament</i> crewman feasting on his fellow sailor. Iranez selected a single egg, spearing it on a long-tined fork and cutting it into several pieces on her fine porcelain plate before taking tiny, delicate bites. Korm followed suit, bringing a small portion of aubekan egg to his mouth.</p>
<p>It didn't taste anything like he expected. Creeg's golden spice gave the egg a powdery consistency that didn't match its succulent appearance. At first he detected a hint of sourness redolent of a ripe apple, but the sensation soon slipped to sharpness suggestive of aged cheese. Korm wondered if the shifting tastes were inherent to the aubekan egg, to the euphoric slime, or simply to his weariness and recent unfamiliarity with decent food. Before he could decide, the flavor changed again, and the swordsman almost spit out the egg into his embroidered napkin. It tasted just like every meal he had eaten in the last month. Like human.</p>
<p>Aebos didn't seem to notice, and kept shoveling the gray-and-gold delicacies into his huge mouth. Iranez and Epostian Creeg both marveled at the cyclops's appetite, completely ignoring Korm, oblivious to his growing disgust. As Aebos neared the end of the tray, Creeg turned to a wide plate to his right, cleared his throat quietly, and continued.</p>
<p>"Next we have a rare delicacy claimed from the deep waters east of Katapesh: the finest ocean caviar wrapped in the dried skin of a giant river gar, pierced by mussel skewers flavored with a variety of spices imported from distant Tian Xia and supplemented with a unique herbal blend of my own design."</p>
<p>Each portion of the extravagant dish measured no wider than the palm of Korm's hand, so it was a good thing that Creeg had prepared far more than a single serving for each diner. Again, Aebos devoured the stuff moments after its introduction, tossing the packets of fish eggs into his maw three at a time. One was enough for Korm. Again, the dish produced a profusion of flavors ending in the familiar tang of long pig. </p>
<p>Each course that followed was the same. Meticulously prepared and delicately spiced with Creeg's golden flakes, the plates looked more like fine art than food, yet despite his hunger, Korm had to force himself to continue. After the caviar, everything started to run together in his mind, and they all led to the same revolting conclusion. To Korm, everything tasted like human.</p>
<p>Boletus and dungeness crab handkerchiefs. Human. Aurochs tongue on a bed of pesh flowers. Human. Truffled mammoth curd. Human. His fellow diners didn't seem to notice, treating each new course as a wonderful delicacy to be savored and enjoyed. After a while Korm decided his affliction was psychological, and once he had swallowed enough of Creeg's food to stave off starvation, he took only the smallest of bites, tuned out the alchemist's pretentious presentation, and allowed his mind to wander. </p>
<p>With walls of dark wood appointed with elaborate trim along the floor and ceiling, the room in which they dined conveyed a sense of power and wealth. At most six diners could sit around the fine marble-topped table, suggesting that the ship's crew was meant to dine elsewhere, in a presumably far more humble setting. Finely wrought wooden doors marked the port and starboard walls. They'd come in from the port, and Korm suspected the opposite door led to the quarters of the ship's senior staff. His mind subconsciously began to wonder what the bedchambers of a national ruler might look like, and Korm smiled as he sensed the return of his old self now that food and freedom were at hand. </p>
<p>At the head of the table, Epostian Creeg gestured with his left hand, his first two fingers raised to the ceiling as he extolled the virtues of the next course. Korm didn't pay attention to his words, but rather focused on the man's meticulous appearance. Dressed in a supple white leather suit cut to the latest fashion and accented by a brilliant red flower in the buttonhole of his left breast pocket, Creeg appeared every bit the royal attendant he was. His short blond hair was freshly trimmed, his smooth skin without a hint of dirt or blemish. Like his beautiful dishes, every aspect of his demeanor and dress seemed perfectly arranged to impress.</p>
<p>A massive symbol imprinted on the wall behind Creeg framed the alchemist in a perfect circle, between two diagonal lines that suggested a road disappearing over the horizon. The image reminded Korm of the mystical symbols adorning the few alchemical reference works he'd perused in his travels, and the swordsman let out a soft snort as he decided that the pompous dandy had probably planned that, too. No doubt the alchemist fancied the dramatics of appearing to stand at the head of a long road leading to the infinite horizons of enlightenment. And then it hit him.</p>
<p>He'd seen that symbol before.</p>
<p>Creeg paused his presentation for a moment, and Korm decided it was his turn to speak. He turned to Iranez of the Orb.</p>
<p>"If you sit on the Council of Quantium," he asked matter-of-factly, "why does your dining chamber bear the seal of the Pathfinder Society?"</p>
<p>Iranez raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise. "You've encountered it?"</p>
<p>"I was raised in Daggermark and spent my first two decades traveling up and down the River Road," Korm said, trying not to sneer. "You'd be surprised by what I've encountered."</p>
<p>Iranez pursed her lips in a bemused expression, clearly unused to being chided by a social inferior.</p>
<p>"Your travels serve you well," she said. "The glyph is the mark of the vessel's previous owner, a questing hero named Durvin Gest, one of the founders of that guild of explorers. He somehow infused the surface of the wall with the symbol, and no means arcane or otherwise can remove or obscure it. Believe me, I've tried. It is a mar on the eldritch craft of the archmage Nex himself, created fifty centuries ago in the Age of Destiny. Imagine discovering a perfect Azlanti statue carved by the finest artisan of that bygone kingdom of legend, preserved for thousands of years just as its creator intended. Then imagine chiseling the crude face of your sallow-cheeked daughter over the original, simply to satisfy your own sense of vanity and pride. It is an affront."</p>
<p>"I kind of like it," said Aebos, mouth full.</p>
<p>"Indeed," Korm added. "An indelible symbol imprinted by a long-dead famous hero. It adds a sort of mystery to the ship."</p>
<p>"The ship has plenty of mystery of its own," scoffed Creeg.</p>
<p>Iranez nodded. "One such mystery is the cause of your rescue, and the price of your freedom." She smiled as Korm and Aebos turned to her with a start. There had been no prior discussion of a fee.</p>
<p>"The Orb seems to believe that the two of you represent the best chance we have to remedy a wrong that has brought much grief to the seas of Nex."</p>
<p>"Wait," Korm asked. "You speak to the Orb?"</p>
<p>"The Orb speaks to me. 'Whispers' is perhaps a more accurate term, for its words are meant only for my ears, and cannot be heard by others."</p>
<p>"That's convenient," said Aebos.</p>
<p>"I have found it to be so," she admitted. "On more than one occasion the Orb has saved my life, or led me to a decision that enhanced the fortunes of the Council, the nation, or its people. Over long years I have learned to trust its declarations."</p>
<p>Aebos cut to the point. "You speak of a grief upon the seas. You mean the stillness of the water? The lack of wind?"</p>
<p>"The same," she said. "Tell me, Korm, in your travels along the River Road, did you ever hear about the demon ships?"</p>
<p>Korm's eyes narrowed at the mention of demons. "Can't say that I did," he said, monotone.</p>
<p>"They date from the last days of the Age of Destiny, when the archmage Nex turned to conquest upon the seas to broaden the scope of his kingdom. Unwilling to bow to the might of storms or the whims of the wind, Nex sought a method to propel his fleet to military victories regardless of weather."</p>
<p>Creeg spoke up, interrupting his mistress. "He found his method by binding the souls of powerful demons into enormous, perfectly cut glass lenses, which he bonded to his ships in a supreme act of arcane mastery. While imprisoned within the false reality of the lens, the demon's essence suffused every element of the ship, from its navigation to the fine details of its appearance. In a very real sense, the ship became the creature's skin, though its mind remained forever hidden away."</p>
<p>"In all of our rich history," Iranez continued, "no demon has broken free from its lens or betrayed its captain. Until now."</p>
<p>"Let me guess," Korm said. "The <i>Relentless</i> is one of these demon ships?"</p>
<p>"Indeed it is," said Iranez. "And until recently it had been an unusually docile specimen of its kind."</p>
<p>"But then something happened," said Aebos, "and the demon's control extended to the waters around the ship. This whole business is your fault."</p>
<p>"This business is <i>the demon's</i> fault," Creeg corrected. "It simply decided to rebel for reasons of its own that we have not yet been able to discern. That is why we turn to you. You must resolve the situation with the demon at the heart of the ship. The disruption to trade must not be traced back to the lady."</p>
<p>Korm furrowed his brow. "And how, exactly, do we get the demon to change its ways?"</p>
<p>Iranez lowered her left arm toward the floor, from whence she hauled a fine linen bag and placed it upon the table. As it landed with a loud clink, the lip of the bag dipped below the considerable bulk of its contents, revealing the glimmering edge of a crown and the sparkle of a scepter topped with what appeared to be a large emerald. Aebos's eyebrow lifted.</p>
<p>Iranez spoke softly, her golden eyes perfectly locked with the gray of Korm's, her face a picture of calm and practiced diplomacy. "The creature calls itself Juval. I believe that it can be reasoned with. Like any demon, it is subject to powerful desires that can be twisted to manipulate the creature to your own ends. In this case, the wealth collected here will serve to stoke its avarice."</p>
<p>Korm stared at the bag of treasure for a long while before returning his attention to Iranez. "You rule an entire nation and own a ship with a demon in it. Aebos and I are not your lackeys. Why don't you do this yourself?"</p>
<p>Iranez sighed softly. "No kingdom in all of Golarion has as many wizards and mystics as does my homeland of Nex. As a supreme agent of the Council of Three and Nine, my every action is scried, scrutinized, and divined by numerous factions. By special design, this chamber has the power to block such divinations. This power alone allows me to speak of Juval and its influence over the waves, for if I did so elsewhere word of my involvement would reach all quarters of Quantium within the hour."</p>
<p>Korm scoffed. "The politics of Nex are none of our concern."</p>
<p>The alchemist's eyes widened comically and his jaw went slack. "The utter insolence! The Lady Iranez rescued you from certain death and brought you into her confidence! And she has provided you with this resplendent meal."</p>
<p>"This is her demon," Korm responded. "Her problem. The way I see it, the Lady Iranez and her demon have provided me with all of my recent meals."</p>
<p>"Mister Calladan," said Iranez, "you survived the River Road and the dangers of distant Vudra. I have faith in your ability to talk yourself out of a problem, as does the Orb. You must pass through the lens into the demon's territory. There, you must convince Juval to withdraw its influence to the ship itself, and return the winds and waves to the waters surrounding Nex. What trinkets Juval does not claim are yours to keep, with my blessing. Upon your return from the world of the lens, I promise you safe passage to Quantium."</p>
<p>A wide grin broke across Aebos's face. "My lady," he said, "we could have saved significant anguish if you had led with the bit about us getting to keep the treasure. We will agree to your terms."</p>
<p>"As if the two of you reprobates deserve any riches beyond your lives," snapped Epostian Creeg. "My service to the Lady Iranez has convinced me to trust the guidance of the Orb, but what it sees in you, I cannot tell. I do not believe that the two of you can be trusted."</p>
<p>"Nor, I confess, do I," said Iranez, her voice tinged with a hint of regret soon erased by a wan smile. "To ensure that our needs are met, Korm and Aebos will be accompanied by my most trusted agent, Epostian Creeg."</p>
<p>The alchemist's face turned as white as his fine leather suit.</p>
<br />
<p><b>Coming Next Week</b>: Adventures in a new dimension in Chapter Three of Erik Mona's "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver."</p>
<p><i>Erik Mona is the Publisher of Paizo Publishing and one of the primary architects of the Pathfinder campaign setting, as well as the former Editor-in-Chief of </i>Dungeon<i> and </i>Dragon<i> magazines. His previous game books have won numerous awards, and include the <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/35E/v5748btpy82t7"></i>Pathfinder Campaign Setting Gazetteer<i></a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/pathfinderRPG/v5748btpy8ief"></i>The Inner Sea World Guide<i></a>, </i>Expedition to the Ruins of Greyhawk<i>, <a href="https://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy7ym6">"The Whispering Cairn" in </i>Dungeon</i> #124</a> (which kicked off the Age of Worms Adventure Path), and <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/adventurePath/legacyOfFire/v5748btpy8735"></i>Pathfinder Adventure Path #19: Howl of the Carrion King<i></a>, among many others. To find out more about Erik, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Erik-Mona-Author/140667695961838?sk=info" target="nofollow">visit his Facebook page</a>.</i></p>
<p><i>Art by John Stanko.</i><p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, John Stanko, Pathfinder Tales, Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver, Witches —><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/johnStanko">John Stanko</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction/twoPiecesOfTarnishedSilver">Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/classes/witches">Witches</a></p>2011-04-27T17:00:00ZThe Nex Stephttps://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5lc4g?The-Nex-Step2011-04-27T17:00:00Z<div align="center"><a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></div>
<blockquote>
<h1>The Nex Step</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, April 27th, 2011</p>
<p>Way back in the editorial of <i>Dragon</i> #353, in March, 2007, I gave the first hint about a major gaming project I'd already been working on for months. While recounting a fun convention appearance at North Carolina's Mid-Atlantic Convention Expo (M.A.C.E.) I mentioned that I ran two marathon sessions of my Age of Worms kick-off adventure, "The Whispering Cairn," as well as another super-secret event, "The Refuge of Nex," which I called "a cunning dungeon you might be seeing more of soon."</p>
<p>Although the public did not yet know about the end of the print version of the magazine, I had received the terminal diagnosis months earlier. While my hectic days at that time were focused on giving the magazines the best possible send-offs I could, my nights were filled with scheming about what Paizo would do next. We'd already launched the GameMastery Modules, but that line was still in its infancy in 2007. Most of the plans for it were scribbled in my notebooks, and had not yet been published.</p>
<p>You may recall that the early GameMastery adventures featured an alphanumeric code to hearken back to the classics of the 80s and to help us keep track of which adventures focused on which topics. The "U" series, for example, featured urban adventures, while modules that started with a "J" usually involved a journey to some exotic locale. It's one of those ideas that work better in theory than in practice, which is why we eventually abandoned it, but in 2007 we were all still pretty excited bout it.</p>
<p>I was most excited about a specific alpha-numeric designation found in the planning pages of my notebook: The "M" series. </p>
<p>In a fit of hubris only a publisher could love, I decided that the "M" series stood for "Mona," and that it would provide an outlet for my personal adventure designs. "The Refuge of Nex," which I playtested at M.A.C.E., was to be the first installment in the "M" series, the beginning of a multi-adventure exploration of an extraplanar dungeon composed of several "stacked" demiplanes created by a long-missing archmage. It would be a huge multi-year, multi-product mega-dungeon in the tradition of Greyhawk or Undermountain, with plenty of intrigue and weird-world exploration mixed in with killer traps and insidious combats. </p>
<p>It was also WAY too much work for a publisher. Back then, I had enough capacity to balance editor-in-chief duties along with those of the publisher, but once the <i>Pathfinder Adventure Path</i> (and later the RPG) started rolling, all dreams that I would have the free time to polish off even "The Refuge of Nex" evaporated, to say nothing of my unrealistic hope of helming an entire ongoing module series while managing the most important business transition the company has ever endured. To make matters even more complicated, it was at about this time that I took on the challenge of weaving material from myself, James Jacobs, Jason Bulmahn, and other members of the Paizo staff into the <a href="http://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy82t7"><i>Pathfinder Chronicles Gazetteer</i></a>, the first real look at the wider world of Golarion.</p>
<p>"The Refuge of Nex," at this point, entered a long period of stillbirth from which it has not yet emerged. But I never forgot about it. Indeed, in the time between M.A.C.E. and the <i>Gazetteer</i>, I'd built up a whole story around the elusive archmage Nex, giving him his own nation to rule on the southern continent of the Inner Sea region and tying his background into other exotic places such as Jalmeray and Absalom. </p>
<p>At this point I decided that Nex had been among the would-be tyrants who tried unsuccessfully to conquer Absalom, leaving behind an infamous Siege Castle known as the Spire of Nex. The Spire of Nex was, essentially, the old Refuge idea transplanted to a more robust location closer to the City at the Center of the World. I still wanted to keep the old Refuge under the palace in Nex's capital city, though, so I decided that both the Spire and the Refuge were different entrances to the same otherworldly place. The fact that I had Nex himself withdraw there after a treacherous attack from his archenemy, Geb, made the whole thing even more interesting to me. </p>
<p>So I started work on the Spire of Nex, writing about 10 hours of adventure material to use at my various convention appearances. That version of the dungeon has appeared at PaizoCon (twice), Neoncon in Las Vegas, Dragonmeet, and probably a few others I'm forgetting. Dozens of players have ventured into the Spire, and given that it's more difficult to get out than it is to get in (just ask Nex himself), most of them are still marooned there.</p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Iranez.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Iranez_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="180px">Illustration by John Stanko</td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>Players really seemed to enjoy the opening levels of the Spire of Nex, and I quite enjoyed thinking about the place and detailing its many marvels. Over time I'd written so much material about it that I began to imagine my own adventures in the place. I realized I'd created a great setting for original fiction.</p>
<p>Fiction writing and editing defined my college experience, but since joining the workforce I'd hardly had time to write a poem, let alone a genuine piece of narrative fiction. I'd written dozens of game books, adventures, and editorials, of course, but I knew my fiction talents had atrophied, and the Spire of Nex seemed like a fun way to get back into it. Eventually, I hoped Paizo might even publish a line of novels to go with the increasingly popular Pathfinder gaming products, so I thought there might be a chance that, one day, I could even get it published—if I could convince the editor it was any good, of course.</p>
<p>So I wrote a 20,000-word outline for my Spire of Nex novel, and even wrote the first few chapters in draft form. Sure, I didn't really have the third act figured out, and once the heroes got into the weird worlds within the Spire the story sort of ballooned out of control, but that was ok, because I was having fun.</p>
<p>Then we launched our Pathfinder Tales novel line, and I read finished manuscripts from professional authors like Dave Gross and Elaine Cunningham. And I realized that my Spire of Nex outline was way too complex. Like, stupidly complex. I came to appreciate that I'd spent all my time working on a story that might work as the end of a much longer saga, but that all of the characters in the story had <i>earlier</i> stories that were much more accessible, and much less burdened by being tied down to a bunch of background I'd created for RPG sessions.</p>
<p>Fiction and RPGs are different things, of course, and I needed to write a story that worked on its own without all of the complicated background I'd invented to challenge my players. So I set the Spire of Nex aside and began working on that simpler story, which I called "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver." The story introduces my old Spire of Nex protagonists, the cunning swordsman Korm Calladan and his cyclops companion, Aebos. It also ties in other bits of continuity minutia I slipped into my Pathfinder work as early as <i>Pathfinder Adventure Path</i> #1. And, of course, Nex himself is also involved, just to bring everything full circle. </p>
<p>This week, we're posting the second of five chapters of "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver," and the first to involve hints of the grand Nex plan I hope to explore through future Pathfinder fiction and gaming writing. </p>
<p>Eventually, I hope that grand plan will involve a full novel called <i>The Spire of Nex</i> and perhaps even that original "Refuge of Nex" adventure I created way back in 2007.</p>
<p>I hope you enjoy reading the exploits of Korm and Aebos as much as I've enjoyed writing them.</p>
<p>For there are many more to come!</p>
<p style="clear:both;">Erik Mona
<br>Publisher</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, Pathfinder Tales, Web Fiction —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction">Web Fiction</a></p><div align="center"><a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></div>
<blockquote>
<h1>The Nex Step</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, April 27th, 2011</p>
<p>Way back in the editorial of <i>Dragon</i> #353, in March, 2007, I gave the first hint about a major gaming project I'd already been working on for months. While recounting a fun convention appearance at North Carolina's Mid-Atlantic Convention Expo (M.A.C.E.) I mentioned that I ran two marathon sessions of my Age of Worms kick-off adventure, "The Whispering Cairn," as well as another super-secret event, "The Refuge of Nex," which I called "a cunning dungeon you might be seeing more of soon."</p>
<p>Although the public did not yet know about the end of the print version of the magazine, I had received the terminal diagnosis months earlier. While my hectic days at that time were focused on giving the magazines the best possible send-offs I could, my nights were filled with scheming about what Paizo would do next. We'd already launched the GameMastery Modules, but that line was still in its infancy in 2007. Most of the plans for it were scribbled in my notebooks, and had not yet been published.</p>
<p>You may recall that the early GameMastery adventures featured an alphanumeric code to hearken back to the classics of the 80s and to help us keep track of which adventures focused on which topics. The "U" series, for example, featured urban adventures, while modules that started with a "J" usually involved a journey to some exotic locale. It's one of those ideas that work better in theory than in practice, which is why we eventually abandoned it, but in 2007 we were all still pretty excited bout it.</p>
<p>I was most excited about a specific alpha-numeric designation found in the planning pages of my notebook: The "M" series. </p>
<p>In a fit of hubris only a publisher could love, I decided that the "M" series stood for "Mona," and that it would provide an outlet for my personal adventure designs. "The Refuge of Nex," which I playtested at M.A.C.E., was to be the first installment in the "M" series, the beginning of a multi-adventure exploration of an extraplanar dungeon composed of several "stacked" demiplanes created by a long-missing archmage. It would be a huge multi-year, multi-product mega-dungeon in the tradition of Greyhawk or Undermountain, with plenty of intrigue and weird-world exploration mixed in with killer traps and insidious combats. </p>
<p>It was also WAY too much work for a publisher. Back then, I had enough capacity to balance editor-in-chief duties along with those of the publisher, but once the <i>Pathfinder Adventure Path</i> (and later the RPG) started rolling, all dreams that I would have the free time to polish off even "The Refuge of Nex" evaporated, to say nothing of my unrealistic hope of helming an entire ongoing module series while managing the most important business transition the company has ever endured. To make matters even more complicated, it was at about this time that I took on the challenge of weaving material from myself, James Jacobs, Jason Bulmahn, and other members of the Paizo staff into the <a href="http://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy82t7"><i>Pathfinder Chronicles Gazetteer</i></a>, the first real look at the wider world of Golarion.</p>
<p>"The Refuge of Nex," at this point, entered a long period of stillbirth from which it has not yet emerged. But I never forgot about it. Indeed, in the time between M.A.C.E. and the <i>Gazetteer</i>, I'd built up a whole story around the elusive archmage Nex, giving him his own nation to rule on the southern continent of the Inner Sea region and tying his background into other exotic places such as Jalmeray and Absalom. </p>
<p>At this point I decided that Nex had been among the would-be tyrants who tried unsuccessfully to conquer Absalom, leaving behind an infamous Siege Castle known as the Spire of Nex. The Spire of Nex was, essentially, the old Refuge idea transplanted to a more robust location closer to the City at the Center of the World. I still wanted to keep the old Refuge under the palace in Nex's capital city, though, so I decided that both the Spire and the Refuge were different entrances to the same otherworldly place. The fact that I had Nex himself withdraw there after a treacherous attack from his archenemy, Geb, made the whole thing even more interesting to me. </p>
<p>So I started work on the Spire of Nex, writing about 10 hours of adventure material to use at my various convention appearances. That version of the dungeon has appeared at PaizoCon (twice), Neoncon in Las Vegas, Dragonmeet, and probably a few others I'm forgetting. Dozens of players have ventured into the Spire, and given that it's more difficult to get out than it is to get in (just ask Nex himself), most of them are still marooned there.</p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Iranez.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Iranez_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="180px">Illustration by John Stanko</td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>Players really seemed to enjoy the opening levels of the Spire of Nex, and I quite enjoyed thinking about the place and detailing its many marvels. Over time I'd written so much material about it that I began to imagine my own adventures in the place. I realized I'd created a great setting for original fiction.</p>
<p>Fiction writing and editing defined my college experience, but since joining the workforce I'd hardly had time to write a poem, let alone a genuine piece of narrative fiction. I'd written dozens of game books, adventures, and editorials, of course, but I knew my fiction talents had atrophied, and the Spire of Nex seemed like a fun way to get back into it. Eventually, I hoped Paizo might even publish a line of novels to go with the increasingly popular Pathfinder gaming products, so I thought there might be a chance that, one day, I could even get it published—if I could convince the editor it was any good, of course.</p>
<p>So I wrote a 20,000-word outline for my Spire of Nex novel, and even wrote the first few chapters in draft form. Sure, I didn't really have the third act figured out, and once the heroes got into the weird worlds within the Spire the story sort of ballooned out of control, but that was ok, because I was having fun.</p>
<p>Then we launched our Pathfinder Tales novel line, and I read finished manuscripts from professional authors like Dave Gross and Elaine Cunningham. And I realized that my Spire of Nex outline was way too complex. Like, stupidly complex. I came to appreciate that I'd spent all my time working on a story that might work as the end of a much longer saga, but that all of the characters in the story had <i>earlier</i> stories that were much more accessible, and much less burdened by being tied down to a bunch of background I'd created for RPG sessions.</p>
<p>Fiction and RPGs are different things, of course, and I needed to write a story that worked on its own without all of the complicated background I'd invented to challenge my players. So I set the Spire of Nex aside and began working on that simpler story, which I called "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver." The story introduces my old Spire of Nex protagonists, the cunning swordsman Korm Calladan and his cyclops companion, Aebos. It also ties in other bits of continuity minutia I slipped into my Pathfinder work as early as <i>Pathfinder Adventure Path</i> #1. And, of course, Nex himself is also involved, just to bring everything full circle. </p>
<p>This week, we're posting the second of five chapters of "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver," and the first to involve hints of the grand Nex plan I hope to explore through future Pathfinder fiction and gaming writing. </p>
<p>Eventually, I hope that grand plan will involve a full novel called <i>The Spire of Nex</i> and perhaps even that original "Refuge of Nex" adventure I created way back in 2007.</p>
<p>I hope you enjoy reading the exploits of Korm and Aebos as much as I've enjoyed writing them.</p>
<p>For there are many more to come!</p>
<p style="clear:both;">Erik Mona
<br>Publisher</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, Pathfinder Tales, Web Fiction —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction">Web Fiction</a></p>2011-04-27T17:00:00ZYou Asked For It!https://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5lc3w?You-Asked-For-It2011-04-20T17:00:00Z<div align="center"><a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></div>
<blockquote>
<h1>You Asked For It!</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, April 20th, 2011</p>
<p>One of the questions I get asked most often about Pathfinder Tales is: "When are we going to see some fiction from the Paizo staffers?" While there can be no question that our other Pathfinder Tales authors have done a bang-up job so far, many folks are eager to see stories that come directly from the source, the products of the same vibrant (and sometimes twisted) imaginations that gave the campaign setting life in the first place. </p>
<p>It's a curiosity we understand quite well—after all, we published <a href="https://paizo.com/cgi-bin/WebObjects/Store.woa/wa/search?q=gary+gygax+planet+stories&includeUnrated=true&what=products&f=brand%2FPlanet+Stories&includeUnavailable=true&sort=0">four of Gary Gygax's novels</a> for the exact same reason. Yet the sad truth about working at a game company is that you don't have nearly as much time to write as some of the freelancers you hire. The job is already more than a normal nine-to-five, and even those few hours you scrape out to write aren't always yours to write what you please. Maybe a freelancer crashes and burns, and suddenly you need to come up with half a book. Maybe there's a product on the schedule that only you can write, because only you know the subject matter in enough detail (a frequent occurrence, when your world is as new as ours). There are a million reasons why a staff member might not have the capacity to write fiction.</p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Korm.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Korm_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="180px">Illustration by John Stanko</td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>Erik Mona knows this better than anyone. Since we launched <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, Erik has had a couple of characters knocking around in his head, begging to become the heroes of a short story. Yet no matter how often he described them to me, or how much loving detail he put into his outline, it seemed that something always came up to keep him from writing the story. Maybe there was even a touch of stage fright there, too—despite having written or worked on enough game books to build a fort in his office, he hadn't written fiction in a decade. As the editor of the line, I was confident he could turn over something great, but it seemed that one emergency after another kept delaying his story. So after about a year of waiting, I did the only thing I could.</p>
<p>I made an emergency.</p>
<p>True to form, when Erik heard that there was a hole in my web fiction schedule that <i>no one else could possibly fill in time</i>, he stepped right up and wrote that story he'd been thinking about for so long. The result is "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver," a new five-part story that begins this week, and I couldn't be happier. It's got sword fights. It's got cannibalism. It's got a cyclops. It's got a wisecracking swordsman with a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lemmy" target="nofollow">Lemmy-style</a> trucker mustache.</p>
<p>Most importantly, it's got Golarion, in a way only Erik could write. There are dealings with Nex—a nation Erik invented. There's information regarding Durvin Gest—from the only person who knows his secret history. There's—well, I don't want to spoil any more. But <a href="store/byCompany/p/paizoPublishingLLC/pathfinder/tales/serial/v5748dyo5lc3v">this is a Pathfinder story from start to finish</a>, and we're proud to have it.</p>
<p>Of course, Erik doesn't have time to read this blog post, as he's been locked in his usual slew of meetings all day, and probably will be until late into the night. But I'm sure that, through the conference room door, he can sense our approval.</p>
<p style="clear:both;">James Sutter
<br>Fiction Editor</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, Pathfinder Tales, Web Fiction, John Stanko —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/johnStanko">John Stanko</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction">Web Fiction</a></p><div align="center"><a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></div>
<blockquote>
<h1>You Asked For It!</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, April 20th, 2011</p>
<p>One of the questions I get asked most often about Pathfinder Tales is: "When are we going to see some fiction from the Paizo staffers?" While there can be no question that our other Pathfinder Tales authors have done a bang-up job so far, many folks are eager to see stories that come directly from the source, the products of the same vibrant (and sometimes twisted) imaginations that gave the campaign setting life in the first place. </p>
<p>It's a curiosity we understand quite well—after all, we published <a href="https://paizo.com/cgi-bin/WebObjects/Store.woa/wa/search?q=gary+gygax+planet+stories&includeUnrated=true&what=products&f=brand%2FPlanet+Stories&includeUnavailable=true&sort=0">four of Gary Gygax's novels</a> for the exact same reason. Yet the sad truth about working at a game company is that you don't have nearly as much time to write as some of the freelancers you hire. The job is already more than a normal nine-to-five, and even those few hours you scrape out to write aren't always yours to write what you please. Maybe a freelancer crashes and burns, and suddenly you need to come up with half a book. Maybe there's a product on the schedule that only you can write, because only you know the subject matter in enough detail (a frequent occurrence, when your world is as new as ours). There are a million reasons why a staff member might not have the capacity to write fiction.</p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Korm.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Korm_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="180px">Illustration by John Stanko</td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>Erik Mona knows this better than anyone. Since we launched <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, Erik has had a couple of characters knocking around in his head, begging to become the heroes of a short story. Yet no matter how often he described them to me, or how much loving detail he put into his outline, it seemed that something always came up to keep him from writing the story. Maybe there was even a touch of stage fright there, too—despite having written or worked on enough game books to build a fort in his office, he hadn't written fiction in a decade. As the editor of the line, I was confident he could turn over something great, but it seemed that one emergency after another kept delaying his story. So after about a year of waiting, I did the only thing I could.</p>
<p>I made an emergency.</p>
<p>True to form, when Erik heard that there was a hole in my web fiction schedule that <i>no one else could possibly fill in time</i>, he stepped right up and wrote that story he'd been thinking about for so long. The result is "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver," a new five-part story that begins this week, and I couldn't be happier. It's got sword fights. It's got cannibalism. It's got a cyclops. It's got a wisecracking swordsman with a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lemmy" target="nofollow">Lemmy-style</a> trucker mustache.</p>
<p>Most importantly, it's got Golarion, in a way only Erik could write. There are dealings with Nex—a nation Erik invented. There's information regarding Durvin Gest—from the only person who knows his secret history. There's—well, I don't want to spoil any more. But <a href="store/byCompany/p/paizoPublishingLLC/pathfinder/tales/serial/v5748dyo5lc3v">this is a Pathfinder story from start to finish</a>, and we're proud to have it.</p>
<p>Of course, Erik doesn't have time to read this blog post, as he's been locked in his usual slew of meetings all day, and probably will be until late into the night. But I'm sure that, through the conference room door, he can sense our approval.</p>
<p style="clear:both;">James Sutter
<br>Fiction Editor</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, Pathfinder Tales, Web Fiction, John Stanko —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/johnStanko">John Stanko</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction">Web Fiction</a></p>2011-04-20T17:00:00ZTwo Pieces of Tarnished Silver--Chapter One: On a Stillswept Seahttps://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5lc3v?Two-Pieces-of-Tarnished-SilverChapter-One-On2011-04-20T17:00:00Z<a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" align="right" border="0" /></a>
<h1>Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</h1>
<p>by Erik Mona</p>
<h2>Chapter One: On a Stillswept Sea</h2>
<blockquote>
<p>Korm Calladan grimaced as his teeth pulled a strip of flesh from a hastily cooked human arm. After three weeks and twelve of his mates put to the spit, he couldn't quite bring himself to devour his meals on deck, before the eyes of his fellow crewmen. He knew he would have died long ago if not for the grim meals—and he refused to die—but his survival brought him no satisfaction. Worse, the passing of days had brought no wind to the still Obari seas, and soon, quite soon, there would be no one left to devour.</p>
<p>According to the navigator, the <i>Queen's Lament</i> had been less than a week from Quantium when the winds died, and the long voyage from distant Vudra had left them but a few days of provisions when the sails went slack and the ship fell still. Korm had argued against putting in at that city of wizards, favoring instead the markets of Katapesh or even the slaver enclave of Okeno, but the ship's captain had no fear of sorcerers and mystics, and carried forth toward Nex's capital port, mocking Korm's superstition. Then the ocean died, and the captain along with it. After the navigator, he had been the first to provide his meat for the survival of the mutinous crew. </p>
<p>Even now, Korm could hear the crew cackling and howling on deck, filled with a moment's energy from their latest harvest. Sitting with his back against the cabin door and his eyes on the sunlit stairs, Korm swallowed a hunk of what this morning had been the third mate. He tried not to think of the look in the young sailor's eyes when the lad drew a tarnished silver coin from the capped tankard they used to determine whose turn had come. In the space of a moment, the crew fell upon him with knives and sharpened hooks. Two weeks ago, Korm would have left the work to the others. Earlier today, he pushed them aside in an effort to claim the choicest cuts for himself and his companion, Aebos, on the other side of the door. </p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Korm.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Korm_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="360px"><i>"Korm would rather talk than fight, but he'd rather fight than die."</i></td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>With the navigator and the captain, they'd sliced the meat into cutlets so they could pretend they feasted upon some animal. It was brutal work that forever changed the butcher. By the third draw of tarnished silver, men threw their slain mates right into the fire, hacking crisped limbs away, leaving fingers and toes intact, making no pretense of their foul work. To date, Korm and Aebos had remained on the right side of the dinner knives, but he knew their luck would only last so long. Korm dropped the mate's arm into his lap and brought his bloody fingers to his mouth, plucking a hair from between his front teeth. </p>
<p>A shadow darkened the stairs to the deck. Then another. And another. </p>
<p>The thin wooden stairs creaked under the weight of six emaciated sailors, led by Hurmat, a lanky, thin-bearded Vudran in a blood-spattered blue vest. He held a red-greased knife in his left hand, and the capped tankard in his right. </p>
<p>"We miss you on deck, Calladan," he said with a wicked smile. "There's still some of Armad left, if you hurry. We wouldn't want you to go hungry. Why do you always disappear during meals?"</p>
<p>Korm flicked away the thin black strand of hair and let his left hand fall to the thin saber at his side.</p>
<p>"It's not that I dislike the company," he said. "I had to bring a portion down to Aebos."</p>
<p>The men behind Hurmat shifted nervously, their eyes darting to the cabin door. Korm noticed that all of them held short blades, belaying hooks, or curved daggers. That and the presence of the tankard suggested that they hadn't just come to talk. Even with the little strength provided by their latest meal, Korm doubted he would be able to take all of them in a fight. Unshaken, Hurmat stepped forward and leaned down to look Korm straight in the eyes. </p>
<p>"Yes. Aebos. We'd like to talk to you about him." The sailor's hot breath carried the stench of urine in its second or third cycle. The potable water had lasted just longer than the food. "He's a big boy, that friend of yours. It takes more than a man's share to keep him fed, and his meat alone is worth twice that of any of us. There's no wind in sight, Calladan. Perhaps it has died across the entire ocean. If we take Aebos, it will give us a week without need for more draws from the cup. But it must be done now, while we still have the strength. Even the mighty Aebos grows thin, and if we wait too long, even his flesh won't sustain us for long."</p>
<p>"To Hell with you, Hurmat, and to all of you bastards. We all agreed to the system. The next draw is three days from now. Then we will let the coins decide."</p>
<p>"Wrong," said Hurmat, stepping back to stand with his fellows. "The next draw is today. Now." He flung the tankard to the floor between Korm's outstretched legs. As it clattered upon the wooden planks two pieces of tarnished silver clinked from the cup and onto the floor. No one spoke as the coin nearest Korm spun to a slow stop.</p>
<p>"Let me guess," Korm said, staring at the death-dealing coin. "Everyone else has already taken their draw?"</p>
<p>"Indeed, Calladan. It appears that your luck has run out. I know you keep the key to your friend's compartment in your pocket, and I'd hoped you would turn it over willingly. You're a brave man. But I tell you one thing: I will not die with an empty stomach."</p>
<p>"No, you won't," Korm said, leaping to his feet with a burst of energy that surprised even himself. Somewhat less steadily, he raised his slender blade and crouched into a defensive stance. </p>
<p>"Take him!" shouted Hurmat. "And don't let him open that door!"</p>
<p>The crew surged forward in a wave of flashing swords. A black-skinned Garundi with white hair and a wicked scar across his face pushed past Hurmat to thrust a short blade at Korm's abdomen. Korm sidestepped and raised his saber, deflecting the attack. In a single movement that drained more energy than it should have, Korm shouldered the Garundi to the wall and brought the sharpened pommel of his sword down on his enemy's neck. A gout of warm blood spurted from the wound, coating Korm's sword hand and spraying a trail of death as the Garundi slumped to the floor. Five more. He'd have to dispatch all of them as quickly if he hoped to survive. </p>
<p>Next came a blond youth with a missing eye and a dagger in each hand. Korm grimaced as he recognized his attacker as Delmios, an orphan befriended by the dead captain years ago in some godsforsaken Andoren smuggler's port. Delmios had been as close to a friend as Korm and Aebos had on the ship, filled with questions about their travels and eager to learn the rudiments of Korm's swordcraft. Early in the voyage, Korm had even given the lad some basic fighting instruction. </p>
<p>As Delmios advanced, Korm noticed with pride that he kept to the balls of his feet as he had taught. The youth slashed with his left dagger while keeping the right ready to parry a counterattack. But one-eyed is no way to go into a fight, and Korm easily took advantage of the youth's damaged perception, sidestepping his blow and raising his saber in a jab aimed right at Delmios's working eye. The blade scraped past the parrying blow and slid easily into the socket, catching for a moment inside the boy's skull. Delmios screamed, dropped his daggers, and fell to the floor, blindly clutching the bleeding mess of his remaining eye. The act gave Korm no pleasure, but it was kill or be killed. </p>
<p>The sharp point of Hurmat's knife cut a thin slice through the meat of Korm's left arm. He dropped his sword reflexively, spinning to face his attacker. Somehow, during the fight with Delmios, Hurmat had slid behind him. Korm cursed his clumsiness and fell into a quick kneel to reach for his fallen blade. Instead, his hand came down upon the bare planks of the floor, where a heavy boot soon fell upon it, crushing the fingers of his sword hand. Korm swore. He looked up the long leg attached to the boot to see the bushy black beard of a burly attacker. The sailor brought his other boot up in a fierce kick to Korm's face, sending him spinning, weaponless, to Hurmat's feet. </p>
<p>"You should have joined us when you had the chance, Calladan," muttered the Vudran, looking at Korm and the two bodies next to him on the floor. The Garundi's neck still seeped dark red blood, albeit less enthusiastically than before. He didn't move. Delmios squirmed upon the floor, moaning softly. Hurmat stood against the door, licking his lips as he decided how to strike the killing blow. Behind Korm, the black-bearded sailor, a squat half-orc deckhand, and the ship's hook-nosed quartermaster blocked escape up the stairs. Korm's saber rested on the floor behind them near the first step to freedom. But even if he could somehow make it through their legs without being killed, he'd still have the rest of the crew on deck to deal with. From the howls and screams thundering down the stairs from up above, they seemed energized as ever. </p>
<p>Hurmat spoke from before the door. "It's all over for you. I'll raise a toast to Korm and Aebos as we divide the meal. With the addition of these two," he said, gesturing to the Garundi and Delmios, "we'll not be hungry for a week or more."</p>
<p>On his knees before Hurmat and with little energy to spare, Korm managed a crooked smile. "You forget, Hurmat, that yours is not the greatest hunger on board. I kept my friend behind closed doors not for his protection, but for yours."</p>
<p>Hurmat raised a dark eyebrow at Korm's bravado and opened his mouth to retort, only to flinch terribly as the door behind him shuddered from a tremendous blow from within. His face curtained with sudden worry, Hurmat turned toward the sound just as a hairy, meaty arm as thick as a man's thigh smashed through the door. A massive hand grasped Hurmat's face like a boy grips a ball, and the Vudran released a short squeal of terror as the powerful fingers squeezed his head. From the floor Korm heard the cracking of bone.</p>
<p>Then, in a moment, the arm flexed and pulled Hurmat through the door and into the dark room beyond, shattering the broken portal. Hurmat's screams echoed through the ship's underdecks, and must have been audible all the way to the crow's nest. </p>
<p>The armed sailors at the foot of the stairs exchanged terrified glances. Korm chuckled, balancing himself against the wall as he rose to his feet. A looming presence emerged from the darkened cabin, stepping into candlelight to reveal the form of a giant garbed in a rough leather garment stitched together from the skins of unknown beasts. Hurmat's blood coated the creature's powerful hands and forearms to the elbow, streaking across a barrel chest and up to a wide, angry mouth filled with irregularly spaced teeth. A single eye the size of a man's fist leered from the center of the beast's bald head, glaring hate at the fear-frozen sailors near the foot of the stair. </p>
<p>"Gentlemen," announced Korm as he stooped to retrieve his saber, "you remember Aebos?"</p>
<p>Like the rest of them, Aebos had lost a lot of muscle over the last several weeks, but his emergence evened the odds. The half-orc and the quartermaster looked to the black-bearded sailor and back up the stairs, toward the indistinct shouting of the abovedeck crew. For a moment they appeared ready to flee toward sunlight, but the noise from above grew louder, and soon a crowd of sailors thundered down the stairs, pressing the worried warriors toward Korm and Aebos.</p>
<p>Korm grabbed a handful of black beard in his right hand, pulling his enemy's face into a rising knee with a loud crunch. As the sailor collapsed to the floor, Korm saw a flash of the hook-nosed quartermaster's surprised face rush past him, pushed forward by the newcomers. </p>
<p>"What have you gotten us into, Korm?" shouted Aebos in a low voice as he grappled with the quartermaster. A vicious scream tumbled down the stairs before ending abruptly in a blood-choked gurgle. Korm realized that what he had at first taken as the sounds of celebration must instead have been slaughter. </p>
<p>"This isn't my doing, friend! I think the ship's under some kind of attack!" Korm ducked the wild swing of a scimitar just in time. The blade bit into the wooden wall, eliciting a grunt from a new attacker. As the deckhand struggled to free his trapped sword, he cast a worried glance at the stairs. Korm's saber pierced his throat before he had the chance to look back. In the doorway, Aebos held a man by the neck in each hand, using their struggling bodies to deflect the blows of their allies. As he watched, the jerking victims sprouted crossbow bolts with red fletching, and Korm cursed. Someone on the stairs was firing randomly into the melee, and it was only a matter of time before their shots struck true. </p>
<p>The sailors fought on in desperation, trying to push past Korm and Aebos rather than defeat them. Fear, chaos, and clumsy blows filled the candlelit hall. Korm stepped left to avoid the hasty chop of a boarding axe, only to slip on a smear of viscera and fall hard to the ground. A bolt-pierced sailor collapsed upon his legs, trapping him on the floor. Korm struggled to pull himself free, but the weakness of starvation and the rigors of battle had drained him of energy. His fingers clutched for his dropped saber. Found nothing.</p>
<p>Clammy hands scrambled across Korm's face, threading through his long black hair and snarling his thick mustache. A slight form pulled its way atop Korm's body, grimy fingernails hooking into his mouth. Korm clamped his eyes shut reflexively.</p>
<p>"Calladan!" His name came in a thin whisper from a dying voice he immediately recognized. Delmios. Korm opened his eyes to stare into the dripping socket of his former pupil. The boy straddled his chest, one blind hand on Korm's face and the other holding aloft a dagger for the killing strike. Korm released a resigned sigh, wondering what had happened to Aebos. So this is how it all ends. Shit. He braced himself for death.</p>
<p>Instead, a red-fletched bolt pierced Delmios's eyepatch, and the boy collapsed upon him. With all of his effort, Korm shoved the lifeless form aside and sat up, casting a wary glance at the stairs. </p>
<p>There, arrayed in long coats of ringed mail and wielding powerful crossbows loaded with red-fletched bolts, stood a half-dozen helmed warriors clad in the red-and-yellow livery of the wizard kingdom of Nex. They stood in taut formation, unharmed, their weapons pointed at his heart. Korm looked behind him to see Aebos standing dumbfounded in the doorway, surrounded by the bolt-pierced forms of the crew. The cyclops shrugged, offering a feeble smile that revealed blood-crusted teeth. Aside from the soft moans of the dying crew, all was silent. </p>
<p>At once, the crossbowmen relaxed their weapons and parted with a fluid motion, snapping to attention with their backs against the stairway walls. Soft footfalls descended the steps, and a feminine figure emerged from the sunlight and into the darkened, body-choked hall. The woman's jeweled slippers came first, followed by legs cloaked in a filmy red silken dress gathered around a circlet of filigreed bone that ringed her navel. The garment pulled tight against her smooth hips and generous breasts, and while the complete effect suggested seduction and a woman well acquainted with her physical charms, the precision of the cut and the elaborate decoration upon the cloth suggested wealth and influence. She carried a stout black wooden staff carved with runic symbols in one hand, and a small glowing crystal sphere in the other. As the woman reached the final stair, the crystal's brilliance flared, revealing a cold, beautiful face framed by an elaborate headdress of beaded glass and tropical feathers. </p>
<p>The orb's coruscations played upon the glass beads and the woman's dark eyes as she surveyed the scene. She regarded the slain crewmen without an ounce of sympathy, pausing only a moment to gaze at Korm as he slowly stood. With a flash she turned her attention directly to the cyclops. Her red lips curled into a wide smile.</p>
<p>"Korm and Aebos," she said with satisfaction. "I've been looking for you."</p>
<br />
<p><b>Coming Next Week</b>: An offer that can't be refused in Chapter Two of Erik Mona's "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver."</p>
<p><i>Erik Mona is the Publisher of Paizo Publishing and one of the primary architects of the Pathfinder campaign setting, as well as the former Editor-in-Chief of </i>Dungeon<i> and </i>Dragon<i> magazines. His previous game books have won numerous awards, and include the <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/35E/v5748btpy82t7"></i>Pathfinder Campaign Setting Gazetteer<i></a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/pathfinderRPG/v5748btpy8ief"></i>The Inner Sea World Guide<i></a>, </i>Expedition to the Ruins of Greyhawk<i>, <a href="https://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy7ym6">"The Whispering Cairn" in </i>Dungeon #124<i></a> (which kicked off the Age of Worms Adventure Path), and <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/adventurePath/legacyOfFire/v5748btpy8735"></i>Pathfinder Adventure Path #19: Howl of the Carrion King<i></a>, among many others. To find out more about Erik, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Erik-Mona-Author/140667695961838?sk=info" target="nofollow">visit his Facebook page</a>.</i></p>
<p><i>Art by John Stanko.</i><p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, John Stanko, Pathfinder Tales, Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver —><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/johnStanko">John Stanko</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction/twoPiecesOfTarnishedSilver">Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</a></p><a href="https://paizo.com/pathfindertales"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/PathfinderTales_360.jpeg" align="right" border="0" /></a>
<h1>Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</h1>
<p>by Erik Mona</p>
<h2>Chapter One: On a Stillswept Sea</h2>
<blockquote>
<p>Korm Calladan grimaced as his teeth pulled a strip of flesh from a hastily cooked human arm. After three weeks and twelve of his mates put to the spit, he couldn't quite bring himself to devour his meals on deck, before the eyes of his fellow crewmen. He knew he would have died long ago if not for the grim meals—and he refused to die—but his survival brought him no satisfaction. Worse, the passing of days had brought no wind to the still Obari seas, and soon, quite soon, there would be no one left to devour.</p>
<p>According to the navigator, the <i>Queen's Lament</i> had been less than a week from Quantium when the winds died, and the long voyage from distant Vudra had left them but a few days of provisions when the sails went slack and the ship fell still. Korm had argued against putting in at that city of wizards, favoring instead the markets of Katapesh or even the slaver enclave of Okeno, but the ship's captain had no fear of sorcerers and mystics, and carried forth toward Nex's capital port, mocking Korm's superstition. Then the ocean died, and the captain along with it. After the navigator, he had been the first to provide his meat for the survival of the mutinous crew. </p>
<p>Even now, Korm could hear the crew cackling and howling on deck, filled with a moment's energy from their latest harvest. Sitting with his back against the cabin door and his eyes on the sunlit stairs, Korm swallowed a hunk of what this morning had been the third mate. He tried not to think of the look in the young sailor's eyes when the lad drew a tarnished silver coin from the capped tankard they used to determine whose turn had come. In the space of a moment, the crew fell upon him with knives and sharpened hooks. Two weeks ago, Korm would have left the work to the others. Earlier today, he pushed them aside in an effort to claim the choicest cuts for himself and his companion, Aebos, on the other side of the door. </p>
</blockquote>
<table align = "right" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="right" style="clear: right;"><tr><td nowrap width = "18"/><td align = "right"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Korm.jpg"" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderTales/TarnishedSilver-Korm_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td /><td align="center" class = "tiny" width="360px"><i>"Korm would rather talk than fight, but he'd rather fight than die."</i></td></tr><tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" nowrap height = "9"/></tr></table><blockquote>
<p>With the navigator and the captain, they'd sliced the meat into cutlets so they could pretend they feasted upon some animal. It was brutal work that forever changed the butcher. By the third draw of tarnished silver, men threw their slain mates right into the fire, hacking crisped limbs away, leaving fingers and toes intact, making no pretense of their foul work. To date, Korm and Aebos had remained on the right side of the dinner knives, but he knew their luck would only last so long. Korm dropped the mate's arm into his lap and brought his bloody fingers to his mouth, plucking a hair from between his front teeth. </p>
<p>A shadow darkened the stairs to the deck. Then another. And another. </p>
<p>The thin wooden stairs creaked under the weight of six emaciated sailors, led by Hurmat, a lanky, thin-bearded Vudran in a blood-spattered blue vest. He held a red-greased knife in his left hand, and the capped tankard in his right. </p>
<p>"We miss you on deck, Calladan," he said with a wicked smile. "There's still some of Armad left, if you hurry. We wouldn't want you to go hungry. Why do you always disappear during meals?"</p>
<p>Korm flicked away the thin black strand of hair and let his left hand fall to the thin saber at his side.</p>
<p>"It's not that I dislike the company," he said. "I had to bring a portion down to Aebos."</p>
<p>The men behind Hurmat shifted nervously, their eyes darting to the cabin door. Korm noticed that all of them held short blades, belaying hooks, or curved daggers. That and the presence of the tankard suggested that they hadn't just come to talk. Even with the little strength provided by their latest meal, Korm doubted he would be able to take all of them in a fight. Unshaken, Hurmat stepped forward and leaned down to look Korm straight in the eyes. </p>
<p>"Yes. Aebos. We'd like to talk to you about him." The sailor's hot breath carried the stench of urine in its second or third cycle. The potable water had lasted just longer than the food. "He's a big boy, that friend of yours. It takes more than a man's share to keep him fed, and his meat alone is worth twice that of any of us. There's no wind in sight, Calladan. Perhaps it has died across the entire ocean. If we take Aebos, it will give us a week without need for more draws from the cup. But it must be done now, while we still have the strength. Even the mighty Aebos grows thin, and if we wait too long, even his flesh won't sustain us for long."</p>
<p>"To Hell with you, Hurmat, and to all of you bastards. We all agreed to the system. The next draw is three days from now. Then we will let the coins decide."</p>
<p>"Wrong," said Hurmat, stepping back to stand with his fellows. "The next draw is today. Now." He flung the tankard to the floor between Korm's outstretched legs. As it clattered upon the wooden planks two pieces of tarnished silver clinked from the cup and onto the floor. No one spoke as the coin nearest Korm spun to a slow stop.</p>
<p>"Let me guess," Korm said, staring at the death-dealing coin. "Everyone else has already taken their draw?"</p>
<p>"Indeed, Calladan. It appears that your luck has run out. I know you keep the key to your friend's compartment in your pocket, and I'd hoped you would turn it over willingly. You're a brave man. But I tell you one thing: I will not die with an empty stomach."</p>
<p>"No, you won't," Korm said, leaping to his feet with a burst of energy that surprised even himself. Somewhat less steadily, he raised his slender blade and crouched into a defensive stance. </p>
<p>"Take him!" shouted Hurmat. "And don't let him open that door!"</p>
<p>The crew surged forward in a wave of flashing swords. A black-skinned Garundi with white hair and a wicked scar across his face pushed past Hurmat to thrust a short blade at Korm's abdomen. Korm sidestepped and raised his saber, deflecting the attack. In a single movement that drained more energy than it should have, Korm shouldered the Garundi to the wall and brought the sharpened pommel of his sword down on his enemy's neck. A gout of warm blood spurted from the wound, coating Korm's sword hand and spraying a trail of death as the Garundi slumped to the floor. Five more. He'd have to dispatch all of them as quickly if he hoped to survive. </p>
<p>Next came a blond youth with a missing eye and a dagger in each hand. Korm grimaced as he recognized his attacker as Delmios, an orphan befriended by the dead captain years ago in some godsforsaken Andoren smuggler's port. Delmios had been as close to a friend as Korm and Aebos had on the ship, filled with questions about their travels and eager to learn the rudiments of Korm's swordcraft. Early in the voyage, Korm had even given the lad some basic fighting instruction. </p>
<p>As Delmios advanced, Korm noticed with pride that he kept to the balls of his feet as he had taught. The youth slashed with his left dagger while keeping the right ready to parry a counterattack. But one-eyed is no way to go into a fight, and Korm easily took advantage of the youth's damaged perception, sidestepping his blow and raising his saber in a jab aimed right at Delmios's working eye. The blade scraped past the parrying blow and slid easily into the socket, catching for a moment inside the boy's skull. Delmios screamed, dropped his daggers, and fell to the floor, blindly clutching the bleeding mess of his remaining eye. The act gave Korm no pleasure, but it was kill or be killed. </p>
<p>The sharp point of Hurmat's knife cut a thin slice through the meat of Korm's left arm. He dropped his sword reflexively, spinning to face his attacker. Somehow, during the fight with Delmios, Hurmat had slid behind him. Korm cursed his clumsiness and fell into a quick kneel to reach for his fallen blade. Instead, his hand came down upon the bare planks of the floor, where a heavy boot soon fell upon it, crushing the fingers of his sword hand. Korm swore. He looked up the long leg attached to the boot to see the bushy black beard of a burly attacker. The sailor brought his other boot up in a fierce kick to Korm's face, sending him spinning, weaponless, to Hurmat's feet. </p>
<p>"You should have joined us when you had the chance, Calladan," muttered the Vudran, looking at Korm and the two bodies next to him on the floor. The Garundi's neck still seeped dark red blood, albeit less enthusiastically than before. He didn't move. Delmios squirmed upon the floor, moaning softly. Hurmat stood against the door, licking his lips as he decided how to strike the killing blow. Behind Korm, the black-bearded sailor, a squat half-orc deckhand, and the ship's hook-nosed quartermaster blocked escape up the stairs. Korm's saber rested on the floor behind them near the first step to freedom. But even if he could somehow make it through their legs without being killed, he'd still have the rest of the crew on deck to deal with. From the howls and screams thundering down the stairs from up above, they seemed energized as ever. </p>
<p>Hurmat spoke from before the door. "It's all over for you. I'll raise a toast to Korm and Aebos as we divide the meal. With the addition of these two," he said, gesturing to the Garundi and Delmios, "we'll not be hungry for a week or more."</p>
<p>On his knees before Hurmat and with little energy to spare, Korm managed a crooked smile. "You forget, Hurmat, that yours is not the greatest hunger on board. I kept my friend behind closed doors not for his protection, but for yours."</p>
<p>Hurmat raised a dark eyebrow at Korm's bravado and opened his mouth to retort, only to flinch terribly as the door behind him shuddered from a tremendous blow from within. His face curtained with sudden worry, Hurmat turned toward the sound just as a hairy, meaty arm as thick as a man's thigh smashed through the door. A massive hand grasped Hurmat's face like a boy grips a ball, and the Vudran released a short squeal of terror as the powerful fingers squeezed his head. From the floor Korm heard the cracking of bone.</p>
<p>Then, in a moment, the arm flexed and pulled Hurmat through the door and into the dark room beyond, shattering the broken portal. Hurmat's screams echoed through the ship's underdecks, and must have been audible all the way to the crow's nest. </p>
<p>The armed sailors at the foot of the stairs exchanged terrified glances. Korm chuckled, balancing himself against the wall as he rose to his feet. A looming presence emerged from the darkened cabin, stepping into candlelight to reveal the form of a giant garbed in a rough leather garment stitched together from the skins of unknown beasts. Hurmat's blood coated the creature's powerful hands and forearms to the elbow, streaking across a barrel chest and up to a wide, angry mouth filled with irregularly spaced teeth. A single eye the size of a man's fist leered from the center of the beast's bald head, glaring hate at the fear-frozen sailors near the foot of the stair. </p>
<p>"Gentlemen," announced Korm as he stooped to retrieve his saber, "you remember Aebos?"</p>
<p>Like the rest of them, Aebos had lost a lot of muscle over the last several weeks, but his emergence evened the odds. The half-orc and the quartermaster looked to the black-bearded sailor and back up the stairs, toward the indistinct shouting of the abovedeck crew. For a moment they appeared ready to flee toward sunlight, but the noise from above grew louder, and soon a crowd of sailors thundered down the stairs, pressing the worried warriors toward Korm and Aebos.</p>
<p>Korm grabbed a handful of black beard in his right hand, pulling his enemy's face into a rising knee with a loud crunch. As the sailor collapsed to the floor, Korm saw a flash of the hook-nosed quartermaster's surprised face rush past him, pushed forward by the newcomers. </p>
<p>"What have you gotten us into, Korm?" shouted Aebos in a low voice as he grappled with the quartermaster. A vicious scream tumbled down the stairs before ending abruptly in a blood-choked gurgle. Korm realized that what he had at first taken as the sounds of celebration must instead have been slaughter. </p>
<p>"This isn't my doing, friend! I think the ship's under some kind of attack!" Korm ducked the wild swing of a scimitar just in time. The blade bit into the wooden wall, eliciting a grunt from a new attacker. As the deckhand struggled to free his trapped sword, he cast a worried glance at the stairs. Korm's saber pierced his throat before he had the chance to look back. In the doorway, Aebos held a man by the neck in each hand, using their struggling bodies to deflect the blows of their allies. As he watched, the jerking victims sprouted crossbow bolts with red fletching, and Korm cursed. Someone on the stairs was firing randomly into the melee, and it was only a matter of time before their shots struck true. </p>
<p>The sailors fought on in desperation, trying to push past Korm and Aebos rather than defeat them. Fear, chaos, and clumsy blows filled the candlelit hall. Korm stepped left to avoid the hasty chop of a boarding axe, only to slip on a smear of viscera and fall hard to the ground. A bolt-pierced sailor collapsed upon his legs, trapping him on the floor. Korm struggled to pull himself free, but the weakness of starvation and the rigors of battle had drained him of energy. His fingers clutched for his dropped saber. Found nothing.</p>
<p>Clammy hands scrambled across Korm's face, threading through his long black hair and snarling his thick mustache. A slight form pulled its way atop Korm's body, grimy fingernails hooking into his mouth. Korm clamped his eyes shut reflexively.</p>
<p>"Calladan!" His name came in a thin whisper from a dying voice he immediately recognized. Delmios. Korm opened his eyes to stare into the dripping socket of his former pupil. The boy straddled his chest, one blind hand on Korm's face and the other holding aloft a dagger for the killing strike. Korm released a resigned sigh, wondering what had happened to Aebos. So this is how it all ends. Shit. He braced himself for death.</p>
<p>Instead, a red-fletched bolt pierced Delmios's eyepatch, and the boy collapsed upon him. With all of his effort, Korm shoved the lifeless form aside and sat up, casting a wary glance at the stairs. </p>
<p>There, arrayed in long coats of ringed mail and wielding powerful crossbows loaded with red-fletched bolts, stood a half-dozen helmed warriors clad in the red-and-yellow livery of the wizard kingdom of Nex. They stood in taut formation, unharmed, their weapons pointed at his heart. Korm looked behind him to see Aebos standing dumbfounded in the doorway, surrounded by the bolt-pierced forms of the crew. The cyclops shrugged, offering a feeble smile that revealed blood-crusted teeth. Aside from the soft moans of the dying crew, all was silent. </p>
<p>At once, the crossbowmen relaxed their weapons and parted with a fluid motion, snapping to attention with their backs against the stairway walls. Soft footfalls descended the steps, and a feminine figure emerged from the sunlight and into the darkened, body-choked hall. The woman's jeweled slippers came first, followed by legs cloaked in a filmy red silken dress gathered around a circlet of filigreed bone that ringed her navel. The garment pulled tight against her smooth hips and generous breasts, and while the complete effect suggested seduction and a woman well acquainted with her physical charms, the precision of the cut and the elaborate decoration upon the cloth suggested wealth and influence. She carried a stout black wooden staff carved with runic symbols in one hand, and a small glowing crystal sphere in the other. As the woman reached the final stair, the crystal's brilliance flared, revealing a cold, beautiful face framed by an elaborate headdress of beaded glass and tropical feathers. </p>
<p>The orb's coruscations played upon the glass beads and the woman's dark eyes as she surveyed the scene. She regarded the slain crewmen without an ounce of sympathy, pausing only a moment to gaze at Korm as he slowly stood. With a flash she turned her attention directly to the cyclops. Her red lips curled into a wide smile.</p>
<p>"Korm and Aebos," she said with satisfaction. "I've been looking for you."</p>
<br />
<p><b>Coming Next Week</b>: An offer that can't be refused in Chapter Two of Erik Mona's "Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver."</p>
<p><i>Erik Mona is the Publisher of Paizo Publishing and one of the primary architects of the Pathfinder campaign setting, as well as the former Editor-in-Chief of </i>Dungeon<i> and </i>Dragon<i> magazines. His previous game books have won numerous awards, and include the <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/35E/v5748btpy82t7"></i>Pathfinder Campaign Setting Gazetteer<i></a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/campaignSetting/pathfinderRPG/v5748btpy8ief"></i>The Inner Sea World Guide<i></a>, </i>Expedition to the Ruins of Greyhawk<i>, <a href="https://paizo.com/store/v5748btpy7ym6">"The Whispering Cairn" in </i>Dungeon #124<i></a> (which kicked off the Age of Worms Adventure Path), and <a href="https://paizo.com/pathfinder/adventurePath/legacyOfFire/v5748btpy8735"></i>Pathfinder Adventure Path #19: Howl of the Carrion King<i></a>, among many others. To find out more about Erik, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Erik-Mona-Author/140667695961838?sk=info" target="nofollow">visit his Facebook page</a>.</i></p>
<p><i>Art by John Stanko.</i><p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, John Stanko, Pathfinder Tales, Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver —><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/johnStanko">John Stanko</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales">Pathfinder Tales</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/webFiction/twoPiecesOfTarnishedSilver">Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver</a></p>2011-04-20T17:00:00ZDigital Dice and Downloaded Dragonshttps://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5lbfs?Digital-Dice-and-Downloaded-Dragons2010-09-08T07:00:00Z<blockquote>
<h1><br>Digital Dice and Downloaded Dragons</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, September 8, 2010</p>
<p>Because convention season should never end, Erik, Sarah, and I spent a good part of our long weekend checking out the <a href="http://www.paxsite.com/" target="nofollow">Penny Arcade Expo</a> here in Seattle, previewing lots of incredible-looking games and hanging out with thousands of gamers gripping both joysticks and rolling dice. I also made another delightful discovery downtown. Here are some of the highlights!</p>
</blockquote>
<div align="center"><table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0">
<tr><td><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-1_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td><td><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-2.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-2_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td><td><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-3.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-3_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-4.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-4_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td><td><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-5.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-5_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td><td><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-6.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-6_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr></table></div>
<blockquote>
<p style="clear:both;">Wes Schneider
<br>Managing Editor</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Conventions, PAX, Monsters, Prince of Wolves, Dinosaurs, Beholders, Erik Mona, F. Wesley Schneider, Sarah Robinson —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/monsters/beholders">Beholders</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/conventions">Conventions</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/monsters/dinosaurs">Dinosaurs</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/fWesleySchneider">F. Wesley Schneider</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/monsters">Monsters</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/conventions/pax">PAX</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/novels/princeOfWolves">Prince of Wolves</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/sarahRobinson">Sarah Robinson</a></p><blockquote>
<h1><br>Digital Dice and Downloaded Dragons</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, September 8, 2010</p>
<p>Because convention season should never end, Erik, Sarah, and I spent a good part of our long weekend checking out the <a href="http://www.paxsite.com/" target="nofollow">Penny Arcade Expo</a> here in Seattle, previewing lots of incredible-looking games and hanging out with thousands of gamers gripping both joysticks and rolling dice. I also made another delightful discovery downtown. Here are some of the highlights!</p>
</blockquote>
<div align="center"><table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0">
<tr><td><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-1_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td><td><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-2.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-2_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td><td><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-3.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-3_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-4.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-4_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td><td><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-5.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-5_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td><td><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-6.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Conventions/PAX2010-6_180.jpeg" border="0" /></a></td></tr></table></div>
<blockquote>
<p style="clear:both;">Wes Schneider
<br>Managing Editor</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Conventions, PAX, Monsters, Prince of Wolves, Dinosaurs, Beholders, Erik Mona, F. Wesley Schneider, Sarah Robinson —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/monsters/beholders">Beholders</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/conventions">Conventions</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/monsters/dinosaurs">Dinosaurs</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/fWesleySchneider">F. Wesley Schneider</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/monsters">Monsters</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/conventions/pax">PAX</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/pathfinderTales/novels/princeOfWolves">Prince of Wolves</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/artists/sarahRobinson">Sarah Robinson</a></p>2010-09-08T07:00:00ZHappy Erik Mona Day (Observed)!https://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5lam6?Happy-Erik-Mona-Day2009-11-11T08:00:00Z<div align="center"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Blog/ErikMonaDay2009.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Blog/ErikMonaDay2009_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></div>
<blockquote>
<h1><br>Happy Erik Mona Day (Observed)!</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, November 11, 2009</p>
<p>No one here at Paizo really understands the significance of the 8th of November, or how it came to be known as Erik Mona Day—especially not the pseudo holiday's namesake. But sure enough, like the semi-reliable working of a clock with too many numbers, on or about the 312th day of the year strange deliverymen track their way to Paizo's door with flatteringly inscrutable prizes. Typically, it's pizza—glorious free pizza in all the flavors of the Papa John's rainbow. This year, though, on perhaps the first Erik Mona Day with our publisher actually present at the office, it was fruit. Chocolate covered fruit. On pointy sticks. A delicious gift that suggests a world of devious and appropriately adventuresome extracurricular projects.</p>
<p>So thanks all you weirdos who chipped in to make this another awesome Erik Mona Day (observed)! We can't say how much we appreciate it, or how far this goes toward making the long nights and weekend days worthwhile.</p>
<p>But now, back to snacking. We we've got a lot of fruit to go through and that punji pit outside Jason's office isn't going to build itself.</p>
<p>F. Wesley Schneider
<br>Managing Editor</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, Community, Paizo —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/community">Community</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo">Paizo</a></p><div align="center"><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Blog/ErikMonaDay2009.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Blog/ErikMonaDay2009_360.jpeg" border="0" /></a></div>
<blockquote>
<h1><br>Happy Erik Mona Day (Observed)!</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, November 11, 2009</p>
<p>No one here at Paizo really understands the significance of the 8th of November, or how it came to be known as Erik Mona Day—especially not the pseudo holiday's namesake. But sure enough, like the semi-reliable working of a clock with too many numbers, on or about the 312th day of the year strange deliverymen track their way to Paizo's door with flatteringly inscrutable prizes. Typically, it's pizza—glorious free pizza in all the flavors of the Papa John's rainbow. This year, though, on perhaps the first Erik Mona Day with our publisher actually present at the office, it was fruit. Chocolate covered fruit. On pointy sticks. A delicious gift that suggests a world of devious and appropriately adventuresome extracurricular projects.</p>
<p>So thanks all you weirdos who chipped in to make this another awesome Erik Mona Day (observed)! We can't say how much we appreciate it, or how far this goes toward making the long nights and weekend days worthwhile.</p>
<p>But now, back to snacking. We we've got a lot of fruit to go through and that punji pit outside Jason's office isn't going to build itself.</p>
<p>F. Wesley Schneider
<br>Managing Editor</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Erik Mona, Community, Paizo —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/community">Community</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo">Paizo</a></p>2009-11-11T08:00:00ZThe Fabled Appendix - Erik Mona (Part 3)https://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5l9uq?The-Fabled-Appendix-Erik-Mona2009-02-20T08:00:00Z<a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Blog/Erik3.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Blog/Erik3_180.jpeg" border=0 hspace=9 align=right></a>
<blockquote>
<h1><br>The Fabled Appendix – Erik Mona (Part 3)</h1>
<p class=date>Friday, February 20, 2009</p>
<p>In the second part of my interview with Erik Mona about which books, movies, and other resources he would include in Paizo's Appendix N, he explained how the idea of a devil-worshiping colonial power—the concept of which eventually became the feared nation of Cheliax—began as a faction in a miniatures game that he developed in his free time. In this conclusion, Erik reveals that several other nations of Golarion, including Andoran and the Land of the Linnorm Kings, had their beginnings in his miniatures game as well. Of course, no version of the fabled Appendix N would be complete without a list of inspiration and educational reading, and Erik admirably provides a hefty list of source material!</p>
<blockquote>
<p><b>Erik</b>: Another colonial power in the miniatures game was the Vikings; the fact that I am from Minnesota, am a fan of the Vikings football team, am of Scandinavian ancestry, and am a fan of Vikings as a sword and sorcery archetype in general, made their conclusion pretty much inevitable. A lot of S&S authors, such as Robert E. Howard and Poul Anderson, pulled the Icelandic sagas into their own worlds. I wanted to bring this archetype into the world of Pathfinder.</p>
<p>Before we began working on <i>Pathfinder</i>, I created a homebrew setting for my own games. While I never got the chance to play in the world, the very first region I detailed in this setting was the realm of the Vikings, which I called the Land of the Linnorm Kings; when we created Golarion, I imported this realm, name and all, directly into the world. A number of sources influenced my vision of the Vikings: the Icelandic sagas, Poul Anderson's <i>The Valor of Cappen Varra</i>, <i>The 13th Warrior</i>, a number of different history books about the Vikings, and my own visits to Norway.</p>
<p>Another faction in the miniatures game included a fantasy version of colonial America as well as a faction inspired by Revolutionary France. Thus, Andoran and Galt were part of my conception of Golarion right from the beginning. A number of books influenced my conception of the Revolutionary faction, such as Claude Manceron's 5-book series <i>The Age of the French Revolution</i> about France in the years leading up to the Revolution, and Simon Schama's <i>Citizens</i>—I loved the idea of how the revolution started with idealistic intentions but then went horribly wrong.</p>
<p>A number of sources inspired the creation of other regions in Golarion: Irrisen is essentially the realm of the White Queen of Narnia meets Baba Yaga; the Realm of the Mammoth Lords was designed as an homage to classic Lost World tales of megafauna and giants, as well as Hollow Earth-style settings of the kind Edgar Rice Burroughs created; Numeria could best be described as <i>Expedition to the Barrier Peaks</i> meets <i>Thundarr the Barbarian</i>; Mendev was inspired by tales of the Crusades, and has elements of the Demon War from John Ostrander's <i>GrimJack</i> comic book, the Swarm from Hugh Cook's novels, and the forces of Chaos from <i>Warhammer Fantasy</i>; the primary sources of inspiration for the River Kingdoms were the Bandit Kingdoms of <i>Greyhawk</i> and the Young Kingdoms from Michael Moorcock's Elric series; Taldor was inspired by the climate and visuals of the Crusader kingdoms in the Holy Land, as well as the cultural decadence of Ancient Rome and pre-Revolution France; and Absalom was heavily influenced by HBO's <i>Rome series</i>, which depicted noble families whose lineages stretch back thousands of years, while the <i>Starstone</i> and the religious faiths with which it is associated are an obvious parallel of Jerusalem. The <i>Starstone</i> itself is inspired by the Kaaba in Mecca, and was named after a short story by Henry Kuttner and C. L. Moore titled <i>The Quest of the Starstone</i>. Planet Stories has reprinted <i>Quest of the Starstone</i> in both <a href="http://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy7zdo"><i>Northwest of Earth</i></a> and <a href="http://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy7x8d"><i>Black God's Kiss</i></a>, by C. L. Moore.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Thanks for reading, Paizonians! Stay tuned for more interviews with Paizo staff members as we continue to expand Paizo's Appendix N!</p>
<p>David Eitelbach<br>
Editorial Intern</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Pathfinder, Erik Mona, Appendix N, Interview —><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/appendixN">Appendix N</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a></p><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Blog/Erik3.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Blog/Erik3_180.jpeg" border=0 hspace=9 align=right></a>
<blockquote>
<h1><br>The Fabled Appendix – Erik Mona (Part 3)</h1>
<p class=date>Friday, February 20, 2009</p>
<p>In the second part of my interview with Erik Mona about which books, movies, and other resources he would include in Paizo's Appendix N, he explained how the idea of a devil-worshiping colonial power—the concept of which eventually became the feared nation of Cheliax—began as a faction in a miniatures game that he developed in his free time. In this conclusion, Erik reveals that several other nations of Golarion, including Andoran and the Land of the Linnorm Kings, had their beginnings in his miniatures game as well. Of course, no version of the fabled Appendix N would be complete without a list of inspiration and educational reading, and Erik admirably provides a hefty list of source material!</p>
<blockquote>
<p><b>Erik</b>: Another colonial power in the miniatures game was the Vikings; the fact that I am from Minnesota, am a fan of the Vikings football team, am of Scandinavian ancestry, and am a fan of Vikings as a sword and sorcery archetype in general, made their conclusion pretty much inevitable. A lot of S&S authors, such as Robert E. Howard and Poul Anderson, pulled the Icelandic sagas into their own worlds. I wanted to bring this archetype into the world of Pathfinder.</p>
<p>Before we began working on <i>Pathfinder</i>, I created a homebrew setting for my own games. While I never got the chance to play in the world, the very first region I detailed in this setting was the realm of the Vikings, which I called the Land of the Linnorm Kings; when we created Golarion, I imported this realm, name and all, directly into the world. A number of sources influenced my vision of the Vikings: the Icelandic sagas, Poul Anderson's <i>The Valor of Cappen Varra</i>, <i>The 13th Warrior</i>, a number of different history books about the Vikings, and my own visits to Norway.</p>
<p>Another faction in the miniatures game included a fantasy version of colonial America as well as a faction inspired by Revolutionary France. Thus, Andoran and Galt were part of my conception of Golarion right from the beginning. A number of books influenced my conception of the Revolutionary faction, such as Claude Manceron's 5-book series <i>The Age of the French Revolution</i> about France in the years leading up to the Revolution, and Simon Schama's <i>Citizens</i>—I loved the idea of how the revolution started with idealistic intentions but then went horribly wrong.</p>
<p>A number of sources inspired the creation of other regions in Golarion: Irrisen is essentially the realm of the White Queen of Narnia meets Baba Yaga; the Realm of the Mammoth Lords was designed as an homage to classic Lost World tales of megafauna and giants, as well as Hollow Earth-style settings of the kind Edgar Rice Burroughs created; Numeria could best be described as <i>Expedition to the Barrier Peaks</i> meets <i>Thundarr the Barbarian</i>; Mendev was inspired by tales of the Crusades, and has elements of the Demon War from John Ostrander's <i>GrimJack</i> comic book, the Swarm from Hugh Cook's novels, and the forces of Chaos from <i>Warhammer Fantasy</i>; the primary sources of inspiration for the River Kingdoms were the Bandit Kingdoms of <i>Greyhawk</i> and the Young Kingdoms from Michael Moorcock's Elric series; Taldor was inspired by the climate and visuals of the Crusader kingdoms in the Holy Land, as well as the cultural decadence of Ancient Rome and pre-Revolution France; and Absalom was heavily influenced by HBO's <i>Rome series</i>, which depicted noble families whose lineages stretch back thousands of years, while the <i>Starstone</i> and the religious faiths with which it is associated are an obvious parallel of Jerusalem. The <i>Starstone</i> itself is inspired by the Kaaba in Mecca, and was named after a short story by Henry Kuttner and C. L. Moore titled <i>The Quest of the Starstone</i>. Planet Stories has reprinted <i>Quest of the Starstone</i> in both <a href="http://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy7zdo"><i>Northwest of Earth</i></a> and <a href="http://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy7x8d"><i>Black God's Kiss</i></a>, by C. L. Moore.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Thanks for reading, Paizonians! Stay tuned for more interviews with Paizo staff members as we continue to expand Paizo's Appendix N!</p>
<p>David Eitelbach<br>
Editorial Intern</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Pathfinder, Erik Mona, Appendix N, Interview —><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/appendixN">Appendix N</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a></p>2009-02-20T08:00:00ZThe Fabled Appendix - Erik Mona (Part 2)https://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5l9us?The-Fabled-Appendix-Erik-Mona2009-02-18T08:00:00Z<a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Blog/Erik2.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Blog/Erik2_180.jpeg" align=right hspace=9 border=0></a>
<blockquote>
<h1><br>The Fabled Appendix - Erik Mona (Part 2)</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, February 18, 2009</p>
<p>This is the second part of my interview with Erik Mona about the sources of inspiration he would list if Paizo created its own "Appendix N." In today's blog, Erik discusses the books and ideas that inspired his creation of Osirion and Cheliax, two of the best-known regions of the Pathfinder Chronicles campaign setting.</p>
<blockquote>
<p><b>David</b>: What historical, mythological, or fictional sources did you use to develop Osirion? I know you mentioned <i>The Sirius Mystery</i> on the message boards. Any other sources like this?</p>
<p><b>Erik</b>: I've always been interested in Ancient Egypt. In terms of books, one of my favorites was a collection of illustrations made by the surveyors who traveled with Napoleon's army throughout Egypt. Napoleon's scientific surveys of Egypt were a major inspiration for the whole concept of the Pathfinder Society—a group of explorers and treasure seekers whose level of altruism can vary greatly.</p>
<p>Another source of inspiration was the book you mentioned, Robert Temple's <i>The Sirius Mystery</i>. Temple introduces the concept that alien astronauts, aquatic beings from a planet orbiting the Dog Star, came down and gave culture to the Ancient Egyptians. After reading this, I immediately had visions of aqueducts, waterways, and pools surrounding Egypt, with aboleths swimming in their depths, commanding the people to construct enormous monuments. In fact, the name "Osirion" comes from this mixture of Egyptian culture and alien influences, as it plays off of the names Sirius and Osiris.</p>
<p><b>David</b>: What's the story behind Cheliax? When did you come up with the idea of having a nation of devil-worshippers? What were your primary sources of inspiration?</p>
<p><b>Erik</b>: I grew up in Minnesota, and while I was visiting the state capital I saw an image that became indelibly burned into my brain, of a Christian monk preaching to a group of American Indians. Since then, the idea of religious colonization has always been in the back of my mind. A while ago, I designed a miniatures-based game just for fun. I wanted the game to have a lot of inherent conflict, so I came up with the idea of a fantasy society that discovers gateways to another world rich in resources. I wanted to make the game about colonization and the conflicts that arise from that, so I decided that I needed several factions that had antipathy for each other. For one of the factions, I went back to that image for the missionary—except instead of the Christian cross, I made their icon a pentagram. This took the theme I was aiming for—religious colonization—and made it undeniably, inherently evil.</p>
<p>For the faction's title, I used the name of an evil empire I had created for a piece of sword and sorcery fiction that I wrote in college. At the time, I had named this empire Chelan because of a horrible family vacation that we had at Lake Chelan in Washington State. After I moved to Washington, I wanted to change the name, but at the same time to make it sound more evil. Cheliax, in Golarion, originally started out in my mind as a colonial power—Arcadia being the stand-in for the unexplored continent that was in my miniatures game.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Thus ends the second part of my interview with Erik about his sources of inspiration. In the conclusion, Erik reveals how his miniatures game gave birth to several other Golarion nations and explains how <i>Thundarr the Barbarian</i> fits into the whole picture. Sources of inspiration abound!</p>
<p>David Eitelbach<br>
Editorial Intern</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Pathfinder, Erik Mona, Appendix N, Interview —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/appendixN">Appendix N</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a></p><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Blog/Erik2.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Blog/Erik2_180.jpeg" align=right hspace=9 border=0></a>
<blockquote>
<h1><br>The Fabled Appendix - Erik Mona (Part 2)</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, February 18, 2009</p>
<p>This is the second part of my interview with Erik Mona about the sources of inspiration he would list if Paizo created its own "Appendix N." In today's blog, Erik discusses the books and ideas that inspired his creation of Osirion and Cheliax, two of the best-known regions of the Pathfinder Chronicles campaign setting.</p>
<blockquote>
<p><b>David</b>: What historical, mythological, or fictional sources did you use to develop Osirion? I know you mentioned <i>The Sirius Mystery</i> on the message boards. Any other sources like this?</p>
<p><b>Erik</b>: I've always been interested in Ancient Egypt. In terms of books, one of my favorites was a collection of illustrations made by the surveyors who traveled with Napoleon's army throughout Egypt. Napoleon's scientific surveys of Egypt were a major inspiration for the whole concept of the Pathfinder Society—a group of explorers and treasure seekers whose level of altruism can vary greatly.</p>
<p>Another source of inspiration was the book you mentioned, Robert Temple's <i>The Sirius Mystery</i>. Temple introduces the concept that alien astronauts, aquatic beings from a planet orbiting the Dog Star, came down and gave culture to the Ancient Egyptians. After reading this, I immediately had visions of aqueducts, waterways, and pools surrounding Egypt, with aboleths swimming in their depths, commanding the people to construct enormous monuments. In fact, the name "Osirion" comes from this mixture of Egyptian culture and alien influences, as it plays off of the names Sirius and Osiris.</p>
<p><b>David</b>: What's the story behind Cheliax? When did you come up with the idea of having a nation of devil-worshippers? What were your primary sources of inspiration?</p>
<p><b>Erik</b>: I grew up in Minnesota, and while I was visiting the state capital I saw an image that became indelibly burned into my brain, of a Christian monk preaching to a group of American Indians. Since then, the idea of religious colonization has always been in the back of my mind. A while ago, I designed a miniatures-based game just for fun. I wanted the game to have a lot of inherent conflict, so I came up with the idea of a fantasy society that discovers gateways to another world rich in resources. I wanted to make the game about colonization and the conflicts that arise from that, so I decided that I needed several factions that had antipathy for each other. For one of the factions, I went back to that image for the missionary—except instead of the Christian cross, I made their icon a pentagram. This took the theme I was aiming for—religious colonization—and made it undeniably, inherently evil.</p>
<p>For the faction's title, I used the name of an evil empire I had created for a piece of sword and sorcery fiction that I wrote in college. At the time, I had named this empire Chelan because of a horrible family vacation that we had at Lake Chelan in Washington State. After I moved to Washington, I wanted to change the name, but at the same time to make it sound more evil. Cheliax, in Golarion, originally started out in my mind as a colonial power—Arcadia being the stand-in for the unexplored continent that was in my miniatures game.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Thus ends the second part of my interview with Erik about his sources of inspiration. In the conclusion, Erik reveals how his miniatures game gave birth to several other Golarion nations and explains how <i>Thundarr the Barbarian</i> fits into the whole picture. Sources of inspiration abound!</p>
<p>David Eitelbach<br>
Editorial Intern</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Pathfinder, Erik Mona, Appendix N, Interview —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/appendixN">Appendix N</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a></p>2009-02-18T08:00:00ZThe Fabled Appendix - Erik Monahttps://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5l9uu?The-Fabled-Appendix-Erik-Mona2009-02-16T08:00:00Z<a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Blog/ErikMonaUnholyObsession.jpeg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Blog/ErikMonaUnholyObsession_180.jpeg" border=0 hspace=9 align=right></a>
<blockquote>
<h1><br>The Fabled Appendix – Erik Mona</h1>
<p class=date>Monday, February 16, 2009</p>
<p>As was explained in my introductory blog post, the purpose of this series is to create Paizo's very own Appendix N, a semi-comprehensive list of the books, comics, movies, and roleplaying products that influenced each member of the Paizo staff in their work on the Pathfinder Chronicles campaign setting. To begin this series, there seemed no better place to start than with one of the original creators of Golarion and the driving force behind <i>Planet Stories</i>, Erik Mona. He had quite a bit to say. By the time we finished lunch, I had filled three complete pages with notes and had been forced to finish transcribing the interview on a napkin. Unfortunately (or fortunately as the case may be), the length of the interview has forced us to break it into three parts. In this first installment, Erik reveals which authors most influenced his idea for the general feel he wanted to give Golarion.</p>
<blockquote>
<p><b>David</b>: What authors or titles stand out to you as most influential on your game design and upon Golarion?</p>
<p><b>Erik</b>: Robert E. Howard's <i>Conan</i> series, particularly the collections of the original Conan stories that have been published by Del Rey—<i>The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian</i>, <i>The Conquering Sword of Conan</i>—those ones; Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd and Grey Mouser stories; Moorcock's Elric series; China Miéville's stories, particularly <i>Perdido Street Station</i> and <i>The Scar</i>; Jack Vance's 4-book Dying Earth series (which I think is now published in a <i>Dying Earth</i> omnibus); C. L. Moore's <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy7x8d">Jirel of Joiry series </a>; Hugh Cook's 10-book series <i>The Chronicles of an Age of Darkness</i>; H. P. Lovecraft; and Henry Kuttner's <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy81tx"><i>The Dark World</i ></a> and <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy7x8e"><i>Elak of Atlantis</i></a>.</p>
<p>A lot of these authors and titles influenced the mood and tone of the setting, as far as being sword and sorcery stories. Michael Moorcock's Elric series being the only exception, these stories feature protagonists who are not superhuman; each is just a dude. It's like how Captain America is a regular guy compared to the other Marvel superheroes—he can't fly and doesn't have any remarkable powers. Batman obviously falls into this category as well. The characters in these stories are powerful but not superhumanly so. More importantly, almost, is the idea that the environment itself is the antagonist, and the characters are exceptional—but otherwise ordinary—people who must fight back or the world will destroy them.</p>
<p>Tolkien was an influence only so far as he influenced D&D. The world he created just didn't fit with what we were trying to do with Golarion. To be honest, it is too hopeful, not grim enough. I asked Jason Bulmahn when we were first creating Golarion, rhetorically, if it would be possible for Paizo to build a world without gnomes, dwarves, elves, and the like. Of course we immediately came to the conclusion that it would be impossible, but it gives you an idea of what we were trying to achieve with Golarion.</p>
<p>Gary Gygax's Gord the Rogue books were very influential in the way that they showed, through storytelling and world-building, the sort of milieux that the inherent style of a world governed by the game's rules. Even if used simply as a point of departure, that's an invaluable resource. The early Thieves World anthologies were also an influence, more in terms of style and world-view than anything else. Greyhawk and Sanctuary are photocopies of Leiber's Lankhmar, and when it comes to a location most exemplifying the fantasy RPG spirit, Lankhmar is the place.
</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Thus concludes the first part of my interview with Erik and the first installment of <i>The Fabled Appendix</i>. Next time: Erik discusses how Osirion and Cheliax were born, and the books and horrible vacations that inspired their creation.</p>
<p>David Eitelbach<br>
Editorial Intern</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Interns, Interview, Appendix N, Fabled Appendix, Erik Mona —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/appendixN">Appendix N</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/interns">Interns</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a></p><a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/Blog/ErikMonaUnholyObsession.jpeg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Blog/ErikMonaUnholyObsession_180.jpeg" border=0 hspace=9 align=right></a>
<blockquote>
<h1><br>The Fabled Appendix – Erik Mona</h1>
<p class=date>Monday, February 16, 2009</p>
<p>As was explained in my introductory blog post, the purpose of this series is to create Paizo's very own Appendix N, a semi-comprehensive list of the books, comics, movies, and roleplaying products that influenced each member of the Paizo staff in their work on the Pathfinder Chronicles campaign setting. To begin this series, there seemed no better place to start than with one of the original creators of Golarion and the driving force behind <i>Planet Stories</i>, Erik Mona. He had quite a bit to say. By the time we finished lunch, I had filled three complete pages with notes and had been forced to finish transcribing the interview on a napkin. Unfortunately (or fortunately as the case may be), the length of the interview has forced us to break it into three parts. In this first installment, Erik reveals which authors most influenced his idea for the general feel he wanted to give Golarion.</p>
<blockquote>
<p><b>David</b>: What authors or titles stand out to you as most influential on your game design and upon Golarion?</p>
<p><b>Erik</b>: Robert E. Howard's <i>Conan</i> series, particularly the collections of the original Conan stories that have been published by Del Rey—<i>The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian</i>, <i>The Conquering Sword of Conan</i>—those ones; Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd and Grey Mouser stories; Moorcock's Elric series; China Miéville's stories, particularly <i>Perdido Street Station</i> and <i>The Scar</i>; Jack Vance's 4-book Dying Earth series (which I think is now published in a <i>Dying Earth</i> omnibus); C. L. Moore's <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy7x8d">Jirel of Joiry series </a>; Hugh Cook's 10-book series <i>The Chronicles of an Age of Darkness</i>; H. P. Lovecraft; and Henry Kuttner's <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy81tx"><i>The Dark World</i ></a> and <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy7x8e"><i>Elak of Atlantis</i></a>.</p>
<p>A lot of these authors and titles influenced the mood and tone of the setting, as far as being sword and sorcery stories. Michael Moorcock's Elric series being the only exception, these stories feature protagonists who are not superhuman; each is just a dude. It's like how Captain America is a regular guy compared to the other Marvel superheroes—he can't fly and doesn't have any remarkable powers. Batman obviously falls into this category as well. The characters in these stories are powerful but not superhumanly so. More importantly, almost, is the idea that the environment itself is the antagonist, and the characters are exceptional—but otherwise ordinary—people who must fight back or the world will destroy them.</p>
<p>Tolkien was an influence only so far as he influenced D&D. The world he created just didn't fit with what we were trying to do with Golarion. To be honest, it is too hopeful, not grim enough. I asked Jason Bulmahn when we were first creating Golarion, rhetorically, if it would be possible for Paizo to build a world without gnomes, dwarves, elves, and the like. Of course we immediately came to the conclusion that it would be impossible, but it gives you an idea of what we were trying to achieve with Golarion.</p>
<p>Gary Gygax's Gord the Rogue books were very influential in the way that they showed, through storytelling and world-building, the sort of milieux that the inherent style of a world governed by the game's rules. Even if used simply as a point of departure, that's an invaluable resource. The early Thieves World anthologies were also an influence, more in terms of style and world-view than anything else. Greyhawk and Sanctuary are photocopies of Leiber's Lankhmar, and when it comes to a location most exemplifying the fantasy RPG spirit, Lankhmar is the place.
</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Thus concludes the first part of my interview with Erik and the first installment of <i>The Fabled Appendix</i>. Next time: Erik discusses how Osirion and Cheliax were born, and the books and horrible vacations that inspired their creation.</p>
<p>David Eitelbach<br>
Editorial Intern</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Interns, Interview, Appendix N, Fabled Appendix, Erik Mona —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/appendixN">Appendix N</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/interns">Interns</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a></p>2009-02-16T08:00:00ZTwo Swordsmen of Mars!https://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5l9xn?Two-Swordsmen-of-Mars2008-09-20T07:00:00Z<a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy80hr"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/product/catalog/PZO/PZO8012_180.jpeg" border=0 align=left hspace=9></a>
<blockquote>
<h1><br>Two Swordsmen of Mars!</h1>
<p class=date>Saturday, September 20, 2008</p>
<p>While pulp science-fiction magazines had entered a sort of digest-sized hibernation by the early 1960s, the paperback book phenomenon was hitting with full force, exposing readers to a new generation of writers while bringing many of the old pulp classics of the past into book form for the very first time. The celebrated Ace Doubles of the era presented many of the books we've already published in our <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories">Planet Stories</a> classic fantasy line, including Leigh Brackett's <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy7x8f"><i>The Secret of Sinharat</i></a> and <I>People of the Talisman</I>, both of which first appeared in the original <I>Planet Stories</I> magazine of the 1940s. Ace also republished many full book-length tales, including this month's Planet Stories release, Otis Adelbert Kline's <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy80hr"><I>The Swordsman of Mars</I></a>.</p>
<p>Kline's classic tale of swashbuckling and savage monsters in the deserts, swamps, and jungles of Mars first appeared in 1933 as a 6-chapter weekly serial in <I>Argosy Magazine</I>, the very pulp that had birthed the so-called "sword and planet" genre with the publication of Edgar Rice Burroughs's <I>Under the Moons of Mars</I> 21 years prior. Contemporary fans of Burrough's John Carter of Mars and Carson of Venus tales often ranked Kline's planetary adventures as equal or near-to-equal those penned by the master himself, but in the 75 years since the original publication of <I>The Swordsman of Mars</I>, Kline's reputation as an author has not fared quite as well as that of Edgar Rice Burroughs.</p>
<p>The tale's paperback publication came in 1960 from Ace, appearing alongside such science-fiction classics as <I>Journey to the Center of the Earth</I> by Jules Verne, <I>The Isle of Doctor Moreau</I> by H. G. Wells, and <I>The Weapon Shops of Isher</I> by A. E. Van Vogt. The boldly colored cover depicts a long-haired John Carter clone and his damsel battling some Martians under the banner "He wore another man's body on the Red Planet". Tucked away at the bottom of the frame, near the left-hand corner, is the tiny legend "Complete & Unabridged."</p>
<p>As with many early paperbacks, this latter claim is more complicated than it appears. The 1960 Ace edition is an "unabridged" reprint of the 1960 <I>hardcover</I> edition of <I>The Swordsman of Mars</I> from a publisher called Avalon, who reprinted all of Kline's sword and planet fiction starting in that year. Rather than a celebration of Kline's important serial work, the '60s Avalon editions are badly truncated rewrites. Entire chapters are missing, key character and location descriptions are completely absent, and the final product cuts a slash across the chest of Kline's literary reputation that would be totally invisible to readers unable to assemble the original <I>Argosy</I> serial and compare the two texts.</p>
<p>Happily, we at Planet Stories did just that when preparing our manuscript for print, and the differences between the original and the "Complete & Unabridged" versions are staggering. Yes, the serial is much longer, which is to be expected. But the changes made to <I>The Swordsman of Mars</I> rob the story of a great deal of description, characterization, pacing, and background that does no service to the original tale or the literary legacy of Otis Adelbert Kline.</p>
<p>Take a look at the first chapter of <I>The Swordsman of Mars</I>, first in its Ace paperback/Avalon edition, and then in the complete serial publication used as the basis for our Planet Stories edition.</p>
<p>Here's the Ace version:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><b>PROLOGUE</b></p>
</blockquote></blockquote>
<a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PlanetStories/PZO8012-Paper_500.jpeg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PlanetStories/PZO8012-Paper_120.jpeg" border=0 align=right hspace=9></a>
<blockquote><blockquote>
<p>Harry Thorne opened his eyes and gazed about him with a startled expression. This was not the tawdry hotel bedroom in which he had gone to sleep; it was a small room with bare, concrete walls, a door of hardwood planking studded with bolts, and a barred window. The only articles of furniture were the cot on which he was lying, a chair, and a small table.</p>
<p><I>So the sleeping pills didn't finish me off</I>, he thought. <I>Now I'm in jail for attempted suicide!</I></p>
<p>Thorne sat up, then rose unsteadily to his feet and staggered to the window. Supporting himself by gripping the thick iron bars, he peered out. It was broad daylight and the sun was high in the heavens. Below him stretched a deep valley, through which a narrow stream meandered. And as far as he could see in all directions there were mountains, though the highest peaks were all below the level of his own eyes.</p>
<p>He turned from the window at the sound of a key grating in a lock. Then the heavy door swung inward, and a large man entered the cell, bearing a tray of food and a steaming pot of coffee. Behind the man was a still larger figure, whose very presence radiated authority. His forehead was high and bulged outward over shaggy eyebrows that met above his aquiline nose. He wore a pointed, closely cropped Vandyke, black with a slight sprinkling of gray, and was dressed in faultlessly tailored evening clothes.</p>
<p>Thorne got to his feet as his singular visitor closed the door behind him. Then, in a booming bass, the man said, "At last, Mr. Thorne, I have caught up with you. I am Dr. Morgan." He smiled. "And I might add, not a moment too soon. You gave us quite a time—Boyd and I managed to get you out of that hotel room and down to the street, passing you off as a drunk. Don't you remember a knocking at the door? You weren't quite out when we came in."</p>
<p>Thorne thought for a moment, then nodded. It seemed that there had been a pounding somewhere. "How did you get in? I thought I locked the door."</p>
<p>"You did—but I had skeleton keys with me, just in case. We took you to my apartment, treated you, and brought you out here." Morgan nodded to Boyd, who left the room, then waved his hand invitingly toward the tray. "I ordered breakfast served in your room. I especially urge you to try the coffee. It will counteract the effect of the sedatives I was compelled to use in order to save your life to bring you here."</p>
<p>"You've gone to a lot of trouble to save something I don't want," Thorne said. "May I ask why you are interfering in my affairs?"</p>
<p>"I need you," Morgan replied simply. "And I can offer you adventure such as only one other man of Earth has known—possibly glory, possibly death. But if death, not the mean sort you were seeking."</p>
<p>Harry Thorne frowned. "You referred to a man of Earth as if there were men not of Earth. Are you suggesting a trip to Mars?"</p>
<p>Dr. Morgan laughed. "Splendid, Mr. Thorne. But suppose you tackle breakfast. It will put you in a better frame of mind for what I am going to tell you. I shall not lock the door as I leave. When you have finished, join me in the drawing room—at the end of the corridor to your right." He paused in the doorway. "You mentioned a trip to Mars, Mr. Thorne. Forgive me if I keep you in suspense for a time, but—although it is not exactly what you think those words mean—that <I>is</I> what I am going to propose."</p>
</blockquote>
<p>So that's it. Quick, to the point. Our hero is Harry Thorne. We don't know what he looks like, how he came to be in this room, why he wanted to commit suicide, or really anything about him other than his name. We've met the esteemed Doctor Morgan (the scientist who ties together all of Kline's Mars and Venus serials), but we don't understand why he would be interested in poor, old suicidal Harry Thorne. This introduction is a serviceable stepping stone to the adventures to come, but it does little to ground the reader's interest in the protagonist or foreshadow future events.</p>
</blockquote>
<a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PlanetStories/PZO8012-Pulp_500.jpeg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PlanetStories/PZO8012-Pulp_120.jpeg" border=0 align=right hspace=9></a>
<blockquote>
<p>Here's the first section of the original serial, as it will appear in this month's Planet Stories release:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><b>CHAPTER 1</b></p>
<p><b>A VERY STRANGE VISITOR</b></p>
<p>"Is Mr. McGinnis in?"</p>
<p>The girl who presided at the information desk and switchboard of the McGinnis Physical Culture Institute suspended her gum chewing long enough to reply: "I'll see. What's the name?"</p>
<p>"Thorne. Harry Thorne."</p>
<p>As she connected the office phone of her employer, the girl surveyed the young man before her with a look of approval. He was tall and slender, with wavy hair of a chestnut brown shade, and there was a pantherish suppleness about his movements which hinted of powerful muscles, perfectly controlled. His faultless attire and aristocratic air told her that he was likely to prove a wealthy prospect for the services which Mr. McGinnis had to offer, so she rang three times, a signal which her employer would understand.</p>
<p>"Mr. Harry Thorne to see you, sir."</p>
<p>She nodded and smiled at the young man. "You may go in, Mr. Thorne. The first office at your right."</p>
<p>"Thank you." Thorne followed her directions, and was welcomed at the door of the office by the beaming proprietor of the institution, a middle-aged gentleman with bulging chest and biceps, a broken nose, and cauliflower ears.</p>
<p>"Come right in, Mr. Thorne. Take a chair. A wonderful frame you have to put muscle on. Now with our system of training we guarantee to add an inch to the circumference of your biceps in less than-⎯"</p>
<p>"One moment, Mr. McGinnis. I came here to be built up, not physically, but financially. In short, I am after that job you advertised in this morning's paper."</p>
<p>McGinnis settled back, a look of disappointment on his face.</p>
<p>"Oh, so you want a job as my assistant fencing master. Can you handle a foil?"</p>
<p>"Fencing has been a hobby of mine."</p>
<p>"A hobby, eh? You'll have to make it a profession if you work here. But come. I'll try you out."</p>
<p>McGinnis led him down the hallway, and through a large room where a group of perspiring financiers dressed in shorts and jerseys were going through various contortions under the direction of a husky looking young man wearing a striped sweater. A conspicuous majority of these striving athletes looked as if their chests had slipped down beneath their belts, and the calves and biceps were undeveloped.</p>
<p>They passed through another room, where a number of corpulent gentlemen were being mauled, poked, pinched, prodded and steam-cooked, and thence into a small empty gymnasium.</p>
<p>McGinnis removed his coat and invited Thorne to do likewise. Then he handled him plastron, mask, glove and foil, and both men armed themselves.</p>
<p>"Now, my lad," said McGinnis, when Thorne was ready, "we'll see what we'll see. On guard!"</p>
<p>They saluted and engaged. Before he had got fairly warmed up, McGinnis, much to his surprise, was hit. "Accidents will happen," he said. "We'll try again."</p>
<p>They did, and this time McGinnis was disarmed. The sudden realization of this made him quite red in the face—he, a fencing master, disarmed by this amateur.</p>
<p>"That was a coincidence," he said, as Thorne politely handed him his foil. "We'll try it once more."</p>
<p>Much to his astonishment and chagrin, the master was hit in the fifth disengage. He threw down his foil and tore off his mask. "Enough's enough." He growled.</p>
<p>"Do I get the job?" asked Thorne.</p>
<p>"Not in a thousand years, my boy. Do you think I'd be fool enough to hire an assistant who can beat me? Don't slam the door as you go out."</p>
<p>Out on the street once more, Thorne fished his last fifty cent piece from his pocket and bought an early edition of an afternoon paper. Pocketing his change, he retired to a doorway to scan the "Help Wanted" column.</p>
<p>Evening found him still tramping, after having followed five more fruitless leads. He fingered the change in his pocket reflectively. Not enough for a decent meal, but if husbanded carefully it would keep body and soul together for the next two or three days. He expended five cents on coffee and doughnuts, his first meal of the day. Then he returned to the cheap hotel where he had taken lodging and where his room rent, which had been paid in advance, would expire on the morrow.</p>
<p>As the clerk handed him his key, he said: "A gentleman called to see you, Mr. Thorne. Said he'd be back later."</p>
<p>"A gentleman to see me! That's strange. Did he leave any message?"</p>
<p>"Only that he'd be back later."</p>
<p>"Thanks."</p>
<p>Thorne climbed the creaky stairs with their covering of dusty, moth-eaten carpet, and entered his room. Shortly thereafter, in dressing gown and slippers and with his pipe going, he sat down in his creaky rocker, vintage of 1880, to think out the situation in which he found himself. He had already pawned his watch and ring, and the money was all but gone. The dressing gown would be next, he decided. Then his reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door.</p>
<p>"Come in," he said, wearily.</p>
<p>He looked up curiously as the door opened, then suppressed a gasp of amazement at sight of the striking individual who entered. His visitor, almost a giant in stature, was obviously a tremendously powerful man. But the impression of great physical strength which the stranger's physique induced was overshadowed by the promise of inconceivably greater mental force which shone from his face. His forehead was high and bulged outward over shaggy eyebrows that met above his aquiline nose. His piercing black eyes seemed to look through Thorne's own, and into his very brain. He wore a pointed, closely-cropped Vandyke, black with a slight sprinkling of gray hairs, and was dressed in faultlessly tailored evening clothes.</p>
<p>Thorne got to his feet as his singular visitor closed the door behind him. Then, in a booming bass voice, the big man said: "At last, Mr. Thorne, I have caught up with you. I am Dr. Morgan."</p>
<p>Surprised, Thorne took the proffered hand and muttered an acknowledgement. "Take the chair, doctor," he invited. "I'll sit here on the bed." As his visitor complied, he continued: "You say you have caught up with me. Am I to understand from this that you have been following me?"</p>
<p>"Halfway across the world and back again," was the reply. "I first saw your photograph in a local paper, accompanying an article which told of your hunting expedition in British East Africa. I followed you there, only to learn that you had sailed there days before my arrival."</p>
<p>"You saw my picture and followed me there? Why?"</p>
<p>"I'll come to that presently. When I reached New York, I called your father's home in Long Island. I was advised that you had left, and that no one knew of your whereabouts. After that, it was not easy to trace you. I learned that you had sailed for home sooner than you planned, because of a wire from your father. I also discovered that on your return, you and your father had quarreled, and that as a result you were disowned and disinherited."</p>
<p>"You seem to have taken a remarkably keen interest in my affairs," said Thorne, amazed at the intimate details of his private business with which this strange individual was familiar.</p>
<p>"Exactly. And I presume you have seen the evening paper."</p>
<p>"Only the 'Help Wanted' columns."</p>
<p>"In that case," said the doctor, "you missed some news which will be of interest to you." He took a clipping from his pocket and passed it to Thorne.</p>
<p>With a shock that turned him suddenly pale beneath his coat of tan, he read:</p>
<blockquote>
<p align="center">FIANCÉE OF HARRY THORNE
ELOPES WITH OTHER MAN</p>
<p>Sylvia Thompson, daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Horatio Thompson, of Newport, whose engagement to Harry Thorne, scion of the wealthy Long Island family, was recently announced, has eloped with Herbert Lloyd Vandevetter.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>There were details, but Thorne did not read these. Instead, he looked at the pictures of his lovely fiancée, his best friend, and himself, conspicuously displayed beside the article. Then the page blurred and he turned away. A great sorrow gripped his heart. Sylvia Thompson was the one person in whom he had not lost faith. Before leaving for Chicago he had confided in her, had told her that he was penniless, and must seek out a new means of livelihood before they could be married. She had promised to wait. And now—this!</p>
<p>"She was false—a cheat, a fraud!" he said, bitterly. "I'll never believe any woman again. I'll never believe anybody."</p>
<p>"Steady boy," admonished the doctor. "You're taking a lot of territory."</p>
<p>"I mean it," said Thorne. "I—I don't care to live any longer."</p>
<p>"Suppose you were offered a new interest in life. Excitement and adventures beyond your wildest dreams. A chance to view new scenes that no earthly being save one has ever glimpsed. To meet new and strange peoples."</p>
<p>"All that is old stuff to me," replied Thorne. "I've traveled until I'm sick of it. I've hunted big game in Asia, Africa and the Americas. I've been in every important country on the globe. The only adventure I have not tried is death, and just now it is the one adventure that intrigues me."</p>
<p>He got up suddenly, and stepping to where his suitcase lay open on the grip-rack, drew therefrom a .38 caliber pistol. "I don't know why you've come here, doctor," he said, "and I don't much care. But I'll appreciate the favor if you will notify my fond relatives of my demise. I don't like being messy, and I haven't the slightest desire to be dramatic, so I'll go into the bathroom for the last act."</p>
<p>"One moment, before you go," said the doctor. "Do you realize that if you do this deed while I am present you will implicate me as a murderer?"</p>
<p>"Right. I hadn't thought of that. Sorry. I'll say good-by then, and give you time to get away."</p>
<p>The doctor rose. "That's considerate of you my boy, and I'll be glad to notify your relatives for you. Good-by." He held out his hand.</p>
<p>Thorne listlessly grasped the extended hand. As he did so, he felt a sharp pricking sensation in his palm, followed by a numbness which shot up his arm and traveled rapidly through the rest of his body. The gun, which he had been holding in his left hand, clattered to the floor. A moment later things went black before his eyes. His knees buckled under him, and the doctor, catching him beneath the arms, eased him back upon the bed. Then consciousness left him.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The original Kline text reveals his hero to be a weary world traveler, an adventurer of impeccable swordsmanship and an aristocratic background (all of which will serve him well on the Red Planet). We have a fitting physical description for the ideal sword and planet hero, and we have a tragic love story that explains Harry Thorne's self-destructive impulse and the motivation that will eventually send him to Mars.</p>
<p>Otis Adelbert Kline died 14 years prior to the publication of Avalon's <I>The Swordsman of Mars</I> hit the shelves. Whoever wrote the short version, it wasn't the original author, and the merciless cuts did little to help Kline's literary reputation. No less an authority than <I>The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction</I> calls Kline's work "pulp fiction at its worst." But these analyses, indeed most modern perception of Kline's fantasy output, is based not on the original pulp printing, but on posthumous editorial hack-jobs perpetrated long after the author himself had died.</p>
<p>Now, for the first time in 75 years, Planet Stories presents Otis Adelbert Kline in his own words. Order <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy80hr"><I>The Swordsman of Mars</I></a> today and take the fantastic journey to the Red Planet the way the author originally intended it.</p>
<p>You'll find it makes all the difference in the world.</p>
<p> Erik Mona
<br>Publisher</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Swordsman of Mars, Planet Stories, Erik Mona —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/locations/mars">Mars</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/otisAdelbertKline">Otis Adelbert Kline</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/planetStories">Planet Stories</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/planetStories/swordsmanOfMars">Swordsman of Mars</a></p><a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy80hr"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/product/catalog/PZO/PZO8012_180.jpeg" border=0 align=left hspace=9></a>
<blockquote>
<h1><br>Two Swordsmen of Mars!</h1>
<p class=date>Saturday, September 20, 2008</p>
<p>While pulp science-fiction magazines had entered a sort of digest-sized hibernation by the early 1960s, the paperback book phenomenon was hitting with full force, exposing readers to a new generation of writers while bringing many of the old pulp classics of the past into book form for the very first time. The celebrated Ace Doubles of the era presented many of the books we've already published in our <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories">Planet Stories</a> classic fantasy line, including Leigh Brackett's <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy7x8f"><i>The Secret of Sinharat</i></a> and <I>People of the Talisman</I>, both of which first appeared in the original <I>Planet Stories</I> magazine of the 1940s. Ace also republished many full book-length tales, including this month's Planet Stories release, Otis Adelbert Kline's <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy80hr"><I>The Swordsman of Mars</I></a>.</p>
<p>Kline's classic tale of swashbuckling and savage monsters in the deserts, swamps, and jungles of Mars first appeared in 1933 as a 6-chapter weekly serial in <I>Argosy Magazine</I>, the very pulp that had birthed the so-called "sword and planet" genre with the publication of Edgar Rice Burroughs's <I>Under the Moons of Mars</I> 21 years prior. Contemporary fans of Burrough's John Carter of Mars and Carson of Venus tales often ranked Kline's planetary adventures as equal or near-to-equal those penned by the master himself, but in the 75 years since the original publication of <I>The Swordsman of Mars</I>, Kline's reputation as an author has not fared quite as well as that of Edgar Rice Burroughs.</p>
<p>The tale's paperback publication came in 1960 from Ace, appearing alongside such science-fiction classics as <I>Journey to the Center of the Earth</I> by Jules Verne, <I>The Isle of Doctor Moreau</I> by H. G. Wells, and <I>The Weapon Shops of Isher</I> by A. E. Van Vogt. The boldly colored cover depicts a long-haired John Carter clone and his damsel battling some Martians under the banner "He wore another man's body on the Red Planet". Tucked away at the bottom of the frame, near the left-hand corner, is the tiny legend "Complete & Unabridged."</p>
<p>As with many early paperbacks, this latter claim is more complicated than it appears. The 1960 Ace edition is an "unabridged" reprint of the 1960 <I>hardcover</I> edition of <I>The Swordsman of Mars</I> from a publisher called Avalon, who reprinted all of Kline's sword and planet fiction starting in that year. Rather than a celebration of Kline's important serial work, the '60s Avalon editions are badly truncated rewrites. Entire chapters are missing, key character and location descriptions are completely absent, and the final product cuts a slash across the chest of Kline's literary reputation that would be totally invisible to readers unable to assemble the original <I>Argosy</I> serial and compare the two texts.</p>
<p>Happily, we at Planet Stories did just that when preparing our manuscript for print, and the differences between the original and the "Complete & Unabridged" versions are staggering. Yes, the serial is much longer, which is to be expected. But the changes made to <I>The Swordsman of Mars</I> rob the story of a great deal of description, characterization, pacing, and background that does no service to the original tale or the literary legacy of Otis Adelbert Kline.</p>
<p>Take a look at the first chapter of <I>The Swordsman of Mars</I>, first in its Ace paperback/Avalon edition, and then in the complete serial publication used as the basis for our Planet Stories edition.</p>
<p>Here's the Ace version:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><b>PROLOGUE</b></p>
</blockquote></blockquote>
<a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PlanetStories/PZO8012-Paper_500.jpeg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PlanetStories/PZO8012-Paper_120.jpeg" border=0 align=right hspace=9></a>
<blockquote><blockquote>
<p>Harry Thorne opened his eyes and gazed about him with a startled expression. This was not the tawdry hotel bedroom in which he had gone to sleep; it was a small room with bare, concrete walls, a door of hardwood planking studded with bolts, and a barred window. The only articles of furniture were the cot on which he was lying, a chair, and a small table.</p>
<p><I>So the sleeping pills didn't finish me off</I>, he thought. <I>Now I'm in jail for attempted suicide!</I></p>
<p>Thorne sat up, then rose unsteadily to his feet and staggered to the window. Supporting himself by gripping the thick iron bars, he peered out. It was broad daylight and the sun was high in the heavens. Below him stretched a deep valley, through which a narrow stream meandered. And as far as he could see in all directions there were mountains, though the highest peaks were all below the level of his own eyes.</p>
<p>He turned from the window at the sound of a key grating in a lock. Then the heavy door swung inward, and a large man entered the cell, bearing a tray of food and a steaming pot of coffee. Behind the man was a still larger figure, whose very presence radiated authority. His forehead was high and bulged outward over shaggy eyebrows that met above his aquiline nose. He wore a pointed, closely cropped Vandyke, black with a slight sprinkling of gray, and was dressed in faultlessly tailored evening clothes.</p>
<p>Thorne got to his feet as his singular visitor closed the door behind him. Then, in a booming bass, the man said, "At last, Mr. Thorne, I have caught up with you. I am Dr. Morgan." He smiled. "And I might add, not a moment too soon. You gave us quite a time—Boyd and I managed to get you out of that hotel room and down to the street, passing you off as a drunk. Don't you remember a knocking at the door? You weren't quite out when we came in."</p>
<p>Thorne thought for a moment, then nodded. It seemed that there had been a pounding somewhere. "How did you get in? I thought I locked the door."</p>
<p>"You did—but I had skeleton keys with me, just in case. We took you to my apartment, treated you, and brought you out here." Morgan nodded to Boyd, who left the room, then waved his hand invitingly toward the tray. "I ordered breakfast served in your room. I especially urge you to try the coffee. It will counteract the effect of the sedatives I was compelled to use in order to save your life to bring you here."</p>
<p>"You've gone to a lot of trouble to save something I don't want," Thorne said. "May I ask why you are interfering in my affairs?"</p>
<p>"I need you," Morgan replied simply. "And I can offer you adventure such as only one other man of Earth has known—possibly glory, possibly death. But if death, not the mean sort you were seeking."</p>
<p>Harry Thorne frowned. "You referred to a man of Earth as if there were men not of Earth. Are you suggesting a trip to Mars?"</p>
<p>Dr. Morgan laughed. "Splendid, Mr. Thorne. But suppose you tackle breakfast. It will put you in a better frame of mind for what I am going to tell you. I shall not lock the door as I leave. When you have finished, join me in the drawing room—at the end of the corridor to your right." He paused in the doorway. "You mentioned a trip to Mars, Mr. Thorne. Forgive me if I keep you in suspense for a time, but—although it is not exactly what you think those words mean—that <I>is</I> what I am going to propose."</p>
</blockquote>
<p>So that's it. Quick, to the point. Our hero is Harry Thorne. We don't know what he looks like, how he came to be in this room, why he wanted to commit suicide, or really anything about him other than his name. We've met the esteemed Doctor Morgan (the scientist who ties together all of Kline's Mars and Venus serials), but we don't understand why he would be interested in poor, old suicidal Harry Thorne. This introduction is a serviceable stepping stone to the adventures to come, but it does little to ground the reader's interest in the protagonist or foreshadow future events.</p>
</blockquote>
<a href="https://paizo.com/image/content/PlanetStories/PZO8012-Pulp_500.jpeg" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PlanetStories/PZO8012-Pulp_120.jpeg" border=0 align=right hspace=9></a>
<blockquote>
<p>Here's the first section of the original serial, as it will appear in this month's Planet Stories release:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><b>CHAPTER 1</b></p>
<p><b>A VERY STRANGE VISITOR</b></p>
<p>"Is Mr. McGinnis in?"</p>
<p>The girl who presided at the information desk and switchboard of the McGinnis Physical Culture Institute suspended her gum chewing long enough to reply: "I'll see. What's the name?"</p>
<p>"Thorne. Harry Thorne."</p>
<p>As she connected the office phone of her employer, the girl surveyed the young man before her with a look of approval. He was tall and slender, with wavy hair of a chestnut brown shade, and there was a pantherish suppleness about his movements which hinted of powerful muscles, perfectly controlled. His faultless attire and aristocratic air told her that he was likely to prove a wealthy prospect for the services which Mr. McGinnis had to offer, so she rang three times, a signal which her employer would understand.</p>
<p>"Mr. Harry Thorne to see you, sir."</p>
<p>She nodded and smiled at the young man. "You may go in, Mr. Thorne. The first office at your right."</p>
<p>"Thank you." Thorne followed her directions, and was welcomed at the door of the office by the beaming proprietor of the institution, a middle-aged gentleman with bulging chest and biceps, a broken nose, and cauliflower ears.</p>
<p>"Come right in, Mr. Thorne. Take a chair. A wonderful frame you have to put muscle on. Now with our system of training we guarantee to add an inch to the circumference of your biceps in less than-⎯"</p>
<p>"One moment, Mr. McGinnis. I came here to be built up, not physically, but financially. In short, I am after that job you advertised in this morning's paper."</p>
<p>McGinnis settled back, a look of disappointment on his face.</p>
<p>"Oh, so you want a job as my assistant fencing master. Can you handle a foil?"</p>
<p>"Fencing has been a hobby of mine."</p>
<p>"A hobby, eh? You'll have to make it a profession if you work here. But come. I'll try you out."</p>
<p>McGinnis led him down the hallway, and through a large room where a group of perspiring financiers dressed in shorts and jerseys were going through various contortions under the direction of a husky looking young man wearing a striped sweater. A conspicuous majority of these striving athletes looked as if their chests had slipped down beneath their belts, and the calves and biceps were undeveloped.</p>
<p>They passed through another room, where a number of corpulent gentlemen were being mauled, poked, pinched, prodded and steam-cooked, and thence into a small empty gymnasium.</p>
<p>McGinnis removed his coat and invited Thorne to do likewise. Then he handled him plastron, mask, glove and foil, and both men armed themselves.</p>
<p>"Now, my lad," said McGinnis, when Thorne was ready, "we'll see what we'll see. On guard!"</p>
<p>They saluted and engaged. Before he had got fairly warmed up, McGinnis, much to his surprise, was hit. "Accidents will happen," he said. "We'll try again."</p>
<p>They did, and this time McGinnis was disarmed. The sudden realization of this made him quite red in the face—he, a fencing master, disarmed by this amateur.</p>
<p>"That was a coincidence," he said, as Thorne politely handed him his foil. "We'll try it once more."</p>
<p>Much to his astonishment and chagrin, the master was hit in the fifth disengage. He threw down his foil and tore off his mask. "Enough's enough." He growled.</p>
<p>"Do I get the job?" asked Thorne.</p>
<p>"Not in a thousand years, my boy. Do you think I'd be fool enough to hire an assistant who can beat me? Don't slam the door as you go out."</p>
<p>Out on the street once more, Thorne fished his last fifty cent piece from his pocket and bought an early edition of an afternoon paper. Pocketing his change, he retired to a doorway to scan the "Help Wanted" column.</p>
<p>Evening found him still tramping, after having followed five more fruitless leads. He fingered the change in his pocket reflectively. Not enough for a decent meal, but if husbanded carefully it would keep body and soul together for the next two or three days. He expended five cents on coffee and doughnuts, his first meal of the day. Then he returned to the cheap hotel where he had taken lodging and where his room rent, which had been paid in advance, would expire on the morrow.</p>
<p>As the clerk handed him his key, he said: "A gentleman called to see you, Mr. Thorne. Said he'd be back later."</p>
<p>"A gentleman to see me! That's strange. Did he leave any message?"</p>
<p>"Only that he'd be back later."</p>
<p>"Thanks."</p>
<p>Thorne climbed the creaky stairs with their covering of dusty, moth-eaten carpet, and entered his room. Shortly thereafter, in dressing gown and slippers and with his pipe going, he sat down in his creaky rocker, vintage of 1880, to think out the situation in which he found himself. He had already pawned his watch and ring, and the money was all but gone. The dressing gown would be next, he decided. Then his reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door.</p>
<p>"Come in," he said, wearily.</p>
<p>He looked up curiously as the door opened, then suppressed a gasp of amazement at sight of the striking individual who entered. His visitor, almost a giant in stature, was obviously a tremendously powerful man. But the impression of great physical strength which the stranger's physique induced was overshadowed by the promise of inconceivably greater mental force which shone from his face. His forehead was high and bulged outward over shaggy eyebrows that met above his aquiline nose. His piercing black eyes seemed to look through Thorne's own, and into his very brain. He wore a pointed, closely-cropped Vandyke, black with a slight sprinkling of gray hairs, and was dressed in faultlessly tailored evening clothes.</p>
<p>Thorne got to his feet as his singular visitor closed the door behind him. Then, in a booming bass voice, the big man said: "At last, Mr. Thorne, I have caught up with you. I am Dr. Morgan."</p>
<p>Surprised, Thorne took the proffered hand and muttered an acknowledgement. "Take the chair, doctor," he invited. "I'll sit here on the bed." As his visitor complied, he continued: "You say you have caught up with me. Am I to understand from this that you have been following me?"</p>
<p>"Halfway across the world and back again," was the reply. "I first saw your photograph in a local paper, accompanying an article which told of your hunting expedition in British East Africa. I followed you there, only to learn that you had sailed there days before my arrival."</p>
<p>"You saw my picture and followed me there? Why?"</p>
<p>"I'll come to that presently. When I reached New York, I called your father's home in Long Island. I was advised that you had left, and that no one knew of your whereabouts. After that, it was not easy to trace you. I learned that you had sailed for home sooner than you planned, because of a wire from your father. I also discovered that on your return, you and your father had quarreled, and that as a result you were disowned and disinherited."</p>
<p>"You seem to have taken a remarkably keen interest in my affairs," said Thorne, amazed at the intimate details of his private business with which this strange individual was familiar.</p>
<p>"Exactly. And I presume you have seen the evening paper."</p>
<p>"Only the 'Help Wanted' columns."</p>
<p>"In that case," said the doctor, "you missed some news which will be of interest to you." He took a clipping from his pocket and passed it to Thorne.</p>
<p>With a shock that turned him suddenly pale beneath his coat of tan, he read:</p>
<blockquote>
<p align="center">FIANCÉE OF HARRY THORNE
ELOPES WITH OTHER MAN</p>
<p>Sylvia Thompson, daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Horatio Thompson, of Newport, whose engagement to Harry Thorne, scion of the wealthy Long Island family, was recently announced, has eloped with Herbert Lloyd Vandevetter.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>There were details, but Thorne did not read these. Instead, he looked at the pictures of his lovely fiancée, his best friend, and himself, conspicuously displayed beside the article. Then the page blurred and he turned away. A great sorrow gripped his heart. Sylvia Thompson was the one person in whom he had not lost faith. Before leaving for Chicago he had confided in her, had told her that he was penniless, and must seek out a new means of livelihood before they could be married. She had promised to wait. And now—this!</p>
<p>"She was false—a cheat, a fraud!" he said, bitterly. "I'll never believe any woman again. I'll never believe anybody."</p>
<p>"Steady boy," admonished the doctor. "You're taking a lot of territory."</p>
<p>"I mean it," said Thorne. "I—I don't care to live any longer."</p>
<p>"Suppose you were offered a new interest in life. Excitement and adventures beyond your wildest dreams. A chance to view new scenes that no earthly being save one has ever glimpsed. To meet new and strange peoples."</p>
<p>"All that is old stuff to me," replied Thorne. "I've traveled until I'm sick of it. I've hunted big game in Asia, Africa and the Americas. I've been in every important country on the globe. The only adventure I have not tried is death, and just now it is the one adventure that intrigues me."</p>
<p>He got up suddenly, and stepping to where his suitcase lay open on the grip-rack, drew therefrom a .38 caliber pistol. "I don't know why you've come here, doctor," he said, "and I don't much care. But I'll appreciate the favor if you will notify my fond relatives of my demise. I don't like being messy, and I haven't the slightest desire to be dramatic, so I'll go into the bathroom for the last act."</p>
<p>"One moment, before you go," said the doctor. "Do you realize that if you do this deed while I am present you will implicate me as a murderer?"</p>
<p>"Right. I hadn't thought of that. Sorry. I'll say good-by then, and give you time to get away."</p>
<p>The doctor rose. "That's considerate of you my boy, and I'll be glad to notify your relatives for you. Good-by." He held out his hand.</p>
<p>Thorne listlessly grasped the extended hand. As he did so, he felt a sharp pricking sensation in his palm, followed by a numbness which shot up his arm and traveled rapidly through the rest of his body. The gun, which he had been holding in his left hand, clattered to the floor. A moment later things went black before his eyes. His knees buckled under him, and the doctor, catching him beneath the arms, eased him back upon the bed. Then consciousness left him.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The original Kline text reveals his hero to be a weary world traveler, an adventurer of impeccable swordsmanship and an aristocratic background (all of which will serve him well on the Red Planet). We have a fitting physical description for the ideal sword and planet hero, and we have a tragic love story that explains Harry Thorne's self-destructive impulse and the motivation that will eventually send him to Mars.</p>
<p>Otis Adelbert Kline died 14 years prior to the publication of Avalon's <I>The Swordsman of Mars</I> hit the shelves. Whoever wrote the short version, it wasn't the original author, and the merciless cuts did little to help Kline's literary reputation. No less an authority than <I>The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction</I> calls Kline's work "pulp fiction at its worst." But these analyses, indeed most modern perception of Kline's fantasy output, is based not on the original pulp printing, but on posthumous editorial hack-jobs perpetrated long after the author himself had died.</p>
<p>Now, for the first time in 75 years, Planet Stories presents Otis Adelbert Kline in his own words. Order <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories/v5748btpy80hr"><I>The Swordsman of Mars</I></a> today and take the fantastic journey to the Red Planet the way the author originally intended it.</p>
<p>You'll find it makes all the difference in the world.</p>
<p> Erik Mona
<br>Publisher</p>
</blockquote>
<!— tags: Swordsman of Mars, Planet Stories, Erik Mona —>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/locations/mars">Mars</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/otisAdelbertKline">Otis Adelbert Kline</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/planetStories">Planet Stories</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/planetStories/swordsmanOfMars">Swordsman of Mars</a></p>2008-09-20T07:00:00ZAttack of the Pod(cast) People!--First Wave--Erik Monahttps://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5la4s?Attack-of-the-Pod-PeopleFirst-WaveErik-Mona2007-09-25T00:00:00Z<a href="http://greenronin.com/2007/09/green_ronin_publishing_podcast_2.php" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/podcast_logo_144.png" align=left border=0 hspace=12></a>
<blockquote>
<br><h1>Attack of the Pod(cast) People!</h1>
<h2>First Wave—Erik Mona</h2>
<p class=date>Monday, September 24, 2007</p>
<p>In recent weeks, members of the design staff here at Paizo have been doing a number of podcast interviews with various gaming-themed radio shows, and they're now becoming available to the general public. They're super easy to access—just click and listen—so why not drop by and hear what the imaginations behind <i>Pathfinder</i>, GameMastery, and more have to say about the future of the industry? </p>
<p>Kicking things off, Erik Mona sat down with Chris Pramas of Green Ronin to discuss the announcement of 4th edition and what that means for the Open Game License and d20 publishing, which leads them into a discussion of Paizo's new ventures, high-level play, and more. And of course, it wouldn't be Erik without a significant foray into the "storied history of Greyhawk." </p>
<p>Click <a href="http://greenronin.com/2007/09/green_ronin_publishing_podcast_2.php" target="_blank">here</a> to check out the 73-minute behemoth (guaranteed to keep your brain alive at work through that long post-lunch lull!) and get the inside dirt from the best possible source. And stay tuned for tomorrow, when we'll be back with more from Mr. James Jacobs, dungeon designer extraordinaire....</p>
<p>James Sutter
<br>Assistant Editor, <i>Pathfinder</i></p>
</blockquote><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/community">Community</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/podcasts">Podcasts</a></p><a href="http://greenronin.com/2007/09/green_ronin_publishing_podcast_2.php" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/Logos/podcast_logo_144.png" align=left border=0 hspace=12></a>
<blockquote>
<br><h1>Attack of the Pod(cast) People!</h1>
<h2>First Wave—Erik Mona</h2>
<p class=date>Monday, September 24, 2007</p>
<p>In recent weeks, members of the design staff here at Paizo have been doing a number of podcast interviews with various gaming-themed radio shows, and they're now becoming available to the general public. They're super easy to access—just click and listen—so why not drop by and hear what the imaginations behind <i>Pathfinder</i>, GameMastery, and more have to say about the future of the industry? </p>
<p>Kicking things off, Erik Mona sat down with Chris Pramas of Green Ronin to discuss the announcement of 4th edition and what that means for the Open Game License and d20 publishing, which leads them into a discussion of Paizo's new ventures, high-level play, and more. And of course, it wouldn't be Erik without a significant foray into the "storied history of Greyhawk." </p>
<p>Click <a href="http://greenronin.com/2007/09/green_ronin_publishing_podcast_2.php" target="_blank">here</a> to check out the 73-minute behemoth (guaranteed to keep your brain alive at work through that long post-lunch lull!) and get the inside dirt from the best possible source. And stay tuned for tomorrow, when we'll be back with more from Mr. James Jacobs, dungeon designer extraordinaire....</p>
<p>James Sutter
<br>Assistant Editor, <i>Pathfinder</i></p>
</blockquote><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/community">Community</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/podcasts">Podcasts</a></p>2007-09-25T00:00:00ZErik in Black Gatehttps://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5la4z?Erik-in-Black-Gate2007-09-13T00:00:00Z<a href="http://www.blackgate.com/articles/erik_mona_interview.htm" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PlanetStories/erik_mona_photo_180.jpeg" align=left border=0 hspace=12></a>
<blockquote>
<h1>Erik in Black Gate</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, September 12, 2007</p>
<p>Many of you may be familiar with <a href="http://www.blackgate.com/articles/erik_mona_interview.htm" target="_blank"><i>Black Gate</i></a>, one of the biggest fantasy magazines around. Recently their managing editor, Howard Andrew Jones, sat down to do an exclusive in-depth interview for their website with Paizo Publisher Erik Mona about <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories">Planet Stories</a>. In what's his most extensive and candid interview on the subject to date, Erik pours forth his reasons for starting the line, his hopes for the future, and the reasons everyone who loves gaming should check out some of these novels. <a href="http://www.blackgate.com/articles/erik_mona_interview.htm" target="_blank">Click here</a> to read the full interview.</p>
<p>James Sutter
<br>Editor, <i>Planet Stories</i></p>
</blockquote><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/planetStories">Planet Stories</a></p><a href="http://www.blackgate.com/articles/erik_mona_interview.htm" target="_blank"><img src="https//paizo.com/image/content/PlanetStories/erik_mona_photo_180.jpeg" align=left border=0 hspace=12></a>
<blockquote>
<h1>Erik in Black Gate</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, September 12, 2007</p>
<p>Many of you may be familiar with <a href="http://www.blackgate.com/articles/erik_mona_interview.htm" target="_blank"><i>Black Gate</i></a>, one of the biggest fantasy magazines around. Recently their managing editor, Howard Andrew Jones, sat down to do an exclusive in-depth interview for their website with Paizo Publisher Erik Mona about <a href="https://paizo.com/planetStories">Planet Stories</a>. In what's his most extensive and candid interview on the subject to date, Erik pours forth his reasons for starting the line, his hopes for the future, and the reasons everyone who loves gaming should check out some of these novels. <a href="http://www.blackgate.com/articles/erik_mona_interview.htm" target="_blank">Click here</a> to read the full interview.</p>
<p>James Sutter
<br>Editor, <i>Planet Stories</i></p>
</blockquote><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/planetStories">Planet Stories</a></p>2007-09-13T00:00:00ZWhat's the Difference?--Erik Mona (Publisher)https://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5la6p?Whats-the-DifferenceErik-Mona2007-06-06T00:00:00Z<blockquote>
<h1>What's the Difference?</h1>
<p class=date>Tuesday, June 5, 2007</p>
<p>One question we've run into repeatedly as we introduce the new world in which both <i>Pathfinder</i> and the GameMastery Modules will be set is, "What makes your campaign setting different?" In order to answer that, we've asked each member of the editorial design team—collectively known as "The Pit"—what <i>they</i> think sets our world apart.</p>
<h2>Erik Mona (Publisher)</h2>
<p>"The GameMastery world will contain a wider mixture of influences that most available on the market, making it easier to find a home for the type of adventures you and your friends are interested in playing. The world doesn't come burdened with a single overarching plot or expectation of play style, but rather allows for a wide variety of campaigns. Do you feel like exploring a savage frontier? The Lands of the Linnorm Kings or the Hold of the Mammoth Lords provide perfect backdrops. Players who enjoy urban roleplaying and intrigue will be drawn to the political world of Absalom or the treacherous courts of devil-tainted Cheliax. Players interested in science fantasy will find plenty to like in the barbarian nation of Numeria, greatest of the River Kingdoms, where a powerful sovereign and his council of witches rule from the ancient ruins of a mighty vessel fallen from space. They might even get a chance to explore the green and red worlds in the heavens above. The code-phrase we've been using for development of the world beyond Varisia (and including it) is "Planet of Adventure," because it is a place meant to accommodate great campaigns. We're hoping one of them will be yours."</p>
<h2>James Jacobs (Editor-in-Chief, <i>Pathfinder</i>)</h2>
<p>"I think that the big thing for our campaign setting is the fact that, unlike most other settings, we aren't kicking things off with a line of setting books that detail regions, religions, cities, and histories of the world. We don't want to drown our readers in canon. Rather, we'll be developing our world primarily through adventures written by the best writers we can find. Each adventure in<i> Pathfinder</i> or the GameMastery line can serve double-duty, because once you've run the adventure, there'll remain parts in there that you can use to expand your own campaign world, be it details of a city, a new monster, a haunted forest, a new religion, or whatever. Sooner or later we'll certainly have enough material to cull from the adventures that we'll be able to produce a setting book or something like that, but it won't have been designed in a vacuum. Everything in our campaign world will evolve out of things that are already adventures, rather than evolve from ideas that then have to be turned into adventures.</p>
<p>"Oh, and demon lords and archdevils and celestial paragons and archangels can grant spells to their cultists. That's pretty cool too."</p>
<h2>Jason Bulmahn (GameMastery Brand Manager)</h2>
<p>"One of our primary goals is to give a campaign setting that uses all of the advantages of the modern rules set while still maintaining a sort of "classic" middle-fantasy feel. We want our world to be one that has a place for almost any sort of play style without flooding GMs and players with a bunch of assumed baselines that make some play-styles impossible or difficult to run. If you want to use our setting to run an Egyptian-styled adventure, you can certainly do that, but it doesn't preclude a swashbuckling game, a feudal knights adventure, a lich hunt, or an urban political game. The trick is balancing these themes and flavors that everyone is familiar with, while still giving it a fresh take that fires up the imagination and allows for GMs to give it their own personal flair. After all, we want this to be your campaign too.</p>
<p>"And, of course, we got ninjas."</p>
<h2>James Sutter (Assistant Editor, <i>Pathfinder</i>)</h2>
<p>"My biggest problem with most campaign settings is the canon. While as a writer I understand well the joy of having your ideas set in stone, of watching people take what you've written and hold it up as The Way It Is, with gaming I find that it's ultimately a decadent and self-indulgent pleasure, and a little goes a long, long way.</p>
<p>"When I first started working at <i>Dungeon</i>, canon and I went head-to-head on a daily basis. It seemed like every time I had an idea I thought was interesting, someone smiled sympathetically and said, "Yeah, but you can't do that because..." As a GM, who wants to be told "no" all the time?</p>
<p>"That's what makes our new setting so exciting to me. Sure, any new setting will have less baggage than one that's been around for years, but throughout the design process of this world, we've tried to always keep that "less is more" mentality in mind. This is our world, but it's also the players' world, and every time you tell a GM or player, "You can't do that," you've just killed a fun session. It's too easy for a setting to reach a point where, through years of development and source material, it's been detailed down to the last commoner, with no room left to invent, explore, and innovate. Either that, or the broad, sweeping changes you've made to distinguish your setting ("All elves in our setting are XXX!") end up alienating portions of your audience. The rallying cry at our development meetings has been, "Never say never." We've all put in a lot of work to make this setting as interesting as possible, and there will undoubtedly be official supplements someday to support the adventures which are the setting's driving force, but know that as we go along, we realize that this isn't just our sandbox—it's the sandbox of everyone who does us the honor of playing in it. And with that honor comes a certain responsibility."</p>
<h2>Jeremy Walker (Assistant Editor, GameMastery)</h2>
<p>"Often, a campaign setting is defined not so much by what elements it includes, but instead by what it precludes. Specific themes, elements, and quirks help players and GMs connect with the setting, but oftentimes the very things that first attract gamers become the things that drive them away, as, frustrated by the setting's inability to adapt, they move on to the next unique setting, only to repeat the process down the road when that setting's fresh ideas become stale.</p>
<p>"One might think, then, that the solution is to provide a setting as generic as possible, so that any story can be dropped in just about anywhere. And yet people are looking for more in a campaign setting than a blank sheet of canvas. They want a world in which to tell their own stories in their own way, but they also want a living world that seems real. In this way, a campaign setting is like a matte painting on a movie set. A richly detailed backdrop that, while it exists independently of the characters in the movie, gives their actions context and meaning beyond their individual stories. To create a purely generic world is like shooting a movie in front of a black and white painting—it is immediately, and obviously, unreal.</p>
<p>"So how to provide a rich and detailed world without running the risk of our conventions and ideas becoming stale? Our solution is to provide a campaign setting that includes many distinct areas, each containing their own themes, characters, stories, and ideas. Each area of our world is almost a mini-setting all to itself. Vibrant and lifelike, ready for any story you might wish to tell. And when you tire of a particular style of gaming, why there is always something new waiting over that mountain, up that river, or across that sea."</p>
<h2>Mike McArtor (Associate Editor, GameMastery)</h2>
<p>"1. <b>Interaction:</b> One of the things that sets Paizo apart is our willingness to listen to those who invest in our creation. Spend some time on the messageboards and I think you'll discover pretty quickly that we interact with our readers, and those interactions are never one-way. We're not going to create the setting through democracy, but when the masses speak, we tend to listen.</p>
<p>"2. <b>Inclusiveness:</b> The newest edition of The World's Most Popular Fantasy Roleplaying Game (TWMPFRPG for short) is all about showing you what you <i>can</i> do, not telling you what you <i>can't</i>. In that spirit, our setting is going to allow for whatever you want to include in your campaign. Everything does—or at least can—exist in our setting.</p>
<p>"3. <b>Variety:</b> It's the spice of life. It's also what happens when you put the seven of us in a room, add caffeine, and shake. Then open the floodgates to guys like Baur and Logue and man oh man, have you got something! If you like dinosaurs and Cthulhu, talk to Jacobs over there. If you like your games a little more whimsical, hey man, I've got your back. From the deepest pits of depravity to the most ludicrous non-sequiturs, you'll find it somewhere in this place.</p>
<p>"4. <b>History:</b> We have the advantage of looking back on three decades of what has come before to see what worked. (And of even greater importance: what didn't.) We're building off the initial groundwork of titans—Gygax, Kuntz, Greenwood, and Grubb, for starters. The seven of us are keenly aware of those who came before, and we want to ensure they (and more importantly, YOU) approve of our creation."</p>
<h2>Wesley Schneider (Associate Editor, <i>Pathfinder</i>)</h2>
<p>"We're only letting the coolest players and GMs use our world. Rabid, endlessly yodeling goblin warchanters will infest the homes of those found unworthy."</p>
</blockquote><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/locations/golarion">Golarion</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/jamesJacobs">James Jacobs</a></p><blockquote>
<h1>What's the Difference?</h1>
<p class=date>Tuesday, June 5, 2007</p>
<p>One question we've run into repeatedly as we introduce the new world in which both <i>Pathfinder</i> and the GameMastery Modules will be set is, "What makes your campaign setting different?" In order to answer that, we've asked each member of the editorial design team—collectively known as "The Pit"—what <i>they</i> think sets our world apart.</p>
<h2>Erik Mona (Publisher)</h2>
<p>"The GameMastery world will contain a wider mixture of influences that most available on the market, making it easier to find a home for the type of adventures you and your friends are interested in playing. The world doesn't come burdened with a single overarching plot or expectation of play style, but rather allows for a wide variety of campaigns. Do you feel like exploring a savage frontier? The Lands of the Linnorm Kings or the Hold of the Mammoth Lords provide perfect backdrops. Players who enjoy urban roleplaying and intrigue will be drawn to the political world of Absalom or the treacherous courts of devil-tainted Cheliax. Players interested in science fantasy will find plenty to like in the barbarian nation of Numeria, greatest of the River Kingdoms, where a powerful sovereign and his council of witches rule from the ancient ruins of a mighty vessel fallen from space. They might even get a chance to explore the green and red worlds in the heavens above. The code-phrase we've been using for development of the world beyond Varisia (and including it) is "Planet of Adventure," because it is a place meant to accommodate great campaigns. We're hoping one of them will be yours."</p>
<h2>James Jacobs (Editor-in-Chief, <i>Pathfinder</i>)</h2>
<p>"I think that the big thing for our campaign setting is the fact that, unlike most other settings, we aren't kicking things off with a line of setting books that detail regions, religions, cities, and histories of the world. We don't want to drown our readers in canon. Rather, we'll be developing our world primarily through adventures written by the best writers we can find. Each adventure in<i> Pathfinder</i> or the GameMastery line can serve double-duty, because once you've run the adventure, there'll remain parts in there that you can use to expand your own campaign world, be it details of a city, a new monster, a haunted forest, a new religion, or whatever. Sooner or later we'll certainly have enough material to cull from the adventures that we'll be able to produce a setting book or something like that, but it won't have been designed in a vacuum. Everything in our campaign world will evolve out of things that are already adventures, rather than evolve from ideas that then have to be turned into adventures.</p>
<p>"Oh, and demon lords and archdevils and celestial paragons and archangels can grant spells to their cultists. That's pretty cool too."</p>
<h2>Jason Bulmahn (GameMastery Brand Manager)</h2>
<p>"One of our primary goals is to give a campaign setting that uses all of the advantages of the modern rules set while still maintaining a sort of "classic" middle-fantasy feel. We want our world to be one that has a place for almost any sort of play style without flooding GMs and players with a bunch of assumed baselines that make some play-styles impossible or difficult to run. If you want to use our setting to run an Egyptian-styled adventure, you can certainly do that, but it doesn't preclude a swashbuckling game, a feudal knights adventure, a lich hunt, or an urban political game. The trick is balancing these themes and flavors that everyone is familiar with, while still giving it a fresh take that fires up the imagination and allows for GMs to give it their own personal flair. After all, we want this to be your campaign too.</p>
<p>"And, of course, we got ninjas."</p>
<h2>James Sutter (Assistant Editor, <i>Pathfinder</i>)</h2>
<p>"My biggest problem with most campaign settings is the canon. While as a writer I understand well the joy of having your ideas set in stone, of watching people take what you've written and hold it up as The Way It Is, with gaming I find that it's ultimately a decadent and self-indulgent pleasure, and a little goes a long, long way.</p>
<p>"When I first started working at <i>Dungeon</i>, canon and I went head-to-head on a daily basis. It seemed like every time I had an idea I thought was interesting, someone smiled sympathetically and said, "Yeah, but you can't do that because..." As a GM, who wants to be told "no" all the time?</p>
<p>"That's what makes our new setting so exciting to me. Sure, any new setting will have less baggage than one that's been around for years, but throughout the design process of this world, we've tried to always keep that "less is more" mentality in mind. This is our world, but it's also the players' world, and every time you tell a GM or player, "You can't do that," you've just killed a fun session. It's too easy for a setting to reach a point where, through years of development and source material, it's been detailed down to the last commoner, with no room left to invent, explore, and innovate. Either that, or the broad, sweeping changes you've made to distinguish your setting ("All elves in our setting are XXX!") end up alienating portions of your audience. The rallying cry at our development meetings has been, "Never say never." We've all put in a lot of work to make this setting as interesting as possible, and there will undoubtedly be official supplements someday to support the adventures which are the setting's driving force, but know that as we go along, we realize that this isn't just our sandbox—it's the sandbox of everyone who does us the honor of playing in it. And with that honor comes a certain responsibility."</p>
<h2>Jeremy Walker (Assistant Editor, GameMastery)</h2>
<p>"Often, a campaign setting is defined not so much by what elements it includes, but instead by what it precludes. Specific themes, elements, and quirks help players and GMs connect with the setting, but oftentimes the very things that first attract gamers become the things that drive them away, as, frustrated by the setting's inability to adapt, they move on to the next unique setting, only to repeat the process down the road when that setting's fresh ideas become stale.</p>
<p>"One might think, then, that the solution is to provide a setting as generic as possible, so that any story can be dropped in just about anywhere. And yet people are looking for more in a campaign setting than a blank sheet of canvas. They want a world in which to tell their own stories in their own way, but they also want a living world that seems real. In this way, a campaign setting is like a matte painting on a movie set. A richly detailed backdrop that, while it exists independently of the characters in the movie, gives their actions context and meaning beyond their individual stories. To create a purely generic world is like shooting a movie in front of a black and white painting—it is immediately, and obviously, unreal.</p>
<p>"So how to provide a rich and detailed world without running the risk of our conventions and ideas becoming stale? Our solution is to provide a campaign setting that includes many distinct areas, each containing their own themes, characters, stories, and ideas. Each area of our world is almost a mini-setting all to itself. Vibrant and lifelike, ready for any story you might wish to tell. And when you tire of a particular style of gaming, why there is always something new waiting over that mountain, up that river, or across that sea."</p>
<h2>Mike McArtor (Associate Editor, GameMastery)</h2>
<p>"1. <b>Interaction:</b> One of the things that sets Paizo apart is our willingness to listen to those who invest in our creation. Spend some time on the messageboards and I think you'll discover pretty quickly that we interact with our readers, and those interactions are never one-way. We're not going to create the setting through democracy, but when the masses speak, we tend to listen.</p>
<p>"2. <b>Inclusiveness:</b> The newest edition of The World's Most Popular Fantasy Roleplaying Game (TWMPFRPG for short) is all about showing you what you <i>can</i> do, not telling you what you <i>can't</i>. In that spirit, our setting is going to allow for whatever you want to include in your campaign. Everything does—or at least can—exist in our setting.</p>
<p>"3. <b>Variety:</b> It's the spice of life. It's also what happens when you put the seven of us in a room, add caffeine, and shake. Then open the floodgates to guys like Baur and Logue and man oh man, have you got something! If you like dinosaurs and Cthulhu, talk to Jacobs over there. If you like your games a little more whimsical, hey man, I've got your back. From the deepest pits of depravity to the most ludicrous non-sequiturs, you'll find it somewhere in this place.</p>
<p>"4. <b>History:</b> We have the advantage of looking back on three decades of what has come before to see what worked. (And of even greater importance: what didn't.) We're building off the initial groundwork of titans—Gygax, Kuntz, Greenwood, and Grubb, for starters. The seven of us are keenly aware of those who came before, and we want to ensure they (and more importantly, YOU) approve of our creation."</p>
<h2>Wesley Schneider (Associate Editor, <i>Pathfinder</i>)</h2>
<p>"We're only letting the coolest players and GMs use our world. Rabid, endlessly yodeling goblin warchanters will infest the homes of those found unworthy."</p>
</blockquote><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/locations/golarion">Golarion</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/jamesJacobs">James Jacobs</a></p>2007-06-06T00:00:00ZErik Speaks His Mindhttps://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5la6x?Erik-Speaks-His-Mind2007-05-23T23:00:00Z<blockquote>
<h1>Erik Speaks His Mind</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, May 23, 2007</p>
<p>The guys at <a href="http://www.pulpgamer.com/2007/05/23/inside-track-020-erik-mona-of-paizo-publishing/">Pulp Gamer</a> have done <a href="http://www.pulpgamer.com/2007/05/23/inside-track-020-erik-mona-of-paizo-publishing/">another interview with Paizo folks</a>, this time catching publisher Erik Mona at the GAMA Trade Show and sitting him down to talk about <i>Pathfinder</i>, <i>GameMastery Modules</i>, Planet Stories, and more. If you've had any questions about where the company's headed in the next year, this podcast probably answers it, so get out your headphones, kick back, and let Erik walk you through the future of Paizo.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a></p><blockquote>
<h1>Erik Speaks His Mind</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, May 23, 2007</p>
<p>The guys at <a href="http://www.pulpgamer.com/2007/05/23/inside-track-020-erik-mona-of-paizo-publishing/">Pulp Gamer</a> have done <a href="http://www.pulpgamer.com/2007/05/23/inside-track-020-erik-mona-of-paizo-publishing/">another interview with Paizo folks</a>, this time catching publisher Erik Mona at the GAMA Trade Show and sitting him down to talk about <i>Pathfinder</i>, <i>GameMastery Modules</i>, Planet Stories, and more. If you've had any questions about where the company's headed in the next year, this podcast probably answers it, so get out your headphones, kick back, and let Erik walk you through the future of Paizo.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a></p>2007-05-23T23:00:00ZPulp Radiohttps://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5la77?Pulp-Radio2007-05-08T22:30:00Z<blockquote>
<h1>Pulp Radio</h1>
<p class=date>Tuesday, May 8, 2007</p>
<p><a href="http://www.pulpgamer.com/2007/05/07/inside-track-018-joshua-frost-of-paizo-publishing">PulpGamer.com</a> recently did an in-depth podcast interview with Paizo marketing guru Josh Frost about Stonehenge, the upcoming release from Titanic Games, Paizo's board game contingent. Take a listen <a href="http://www.pulpgamer.com/2007/05/07/inside-track-018-joshua-frost-of-paizo-publishing">here</a> and get the inside scoop on what it really means to create an "anthology" board game. Plus stay tuned in coming weeks for more podcast interviews from the Pulp Gamer guys, including one with Publisher Erik Mona himself.</p><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/titanicGames/stonehenge">Stonehenge</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/titanicGames">Titanic Games</a></p><blockquote>
<h1>Pulp Radio</h1>
<p class=date>Tuesday, May 8, 2007</p>
<p><a href="http://www.pulpgamer.com/2007/05/07/inside-track-018-joshua-frost-of-paizo-publishing">PulpGamer.com</a> recently did an in-depth podcast interview with Paizo marketing guru Josh Frost about Stonehenge, the upcoming release from Titanic Games, Paizo's board game contingent. Take a listen <a href="http://www.pulpgamer.com/2007/05/07/inside-track-018-joshua-frost-of-paizo-publishing">here</a> and get the inside scoop on what it really means to create an "anthology" board game. Plus stay tuned in coming weeks for more podcast interviews from the Pulp Gamer guys, including one with Publisher Erik Mona himself.</p><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/titanicGames/stonehenge">Stonehenge</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/titanicGames">Titanic Games</a></p>2007-05-08T22:30:00ZIn His Own Wordshttps://paizo.com/community/blog/v5748dyo5la7b?In-His-Own-Words2007-05-03T00:00:00Z<blockquote>
<h1>In His Own Words</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, May 2, 2007</p>
<p>Last night, Publisher Erik Mona dropped by the #pathfinder chat on the OtherWorlds IRC Network to talk frankly with fans about <i>Pathfinder</i>, GameMastery, and the presence of Gary Gygax himself in the Paizo booth at the upcoming GenCon. To read a fan summary of the discussion, <a href="http://paizo.com/paizo/messageboards/pathfinder/general/pathfinder#191173">click here</a>.
<p>Want to get in on the conversation yourself? Tuesday nights (in the USA) are the weekly chance for <i>Pathfinder</i> fans, writers, and occasionally us editor types to meet up and discuss the future of the Paizo product line, campaign setting, and more in realtime. Visit <a href="http://irc.otherworlders.org/chat/cf.php">http://irc.otherworlders.org/chat/cf.php</a> and enter #pathfinder as the channel, or direct your chat client (such as mIRC) to:</p>
<blockquote><p><b>SERVER:</b> chat.psionics.net
<br><b>PORT:</b> 6667
<br>CHANNEL:</b> #pathfinder</p></blockquote>
<p>Many thanks to message board regular EP Healy for posting his summarized log of the chat.</p>
<p>James Sutter
<br>Assistant Editor, <i>Pathfinder</i></p>
</blockquote><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/community">Community</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a></p><blockquote>
<h1>In His Own Words</h1>
<p class=date>Wednesday, May 2, 2007</p>
<p>Last night, Publisher Erik Mona dropped by the #pathfinder chat on the OtherWorlds IRC Network to talk frankly with fans about <i>Pathfinder</i>, GameMastery, and the presence of Gary Gygax himself in the Paizo booth at the upcoming GenCon. To read a fan summary of the discussion, <a href="http://paizo.com/paizo/messageboards/pathfinder/general/pathfinder#191173">click here</a>.
<p>Want to get in on the conversation yourself? Tuesday nights (in the USA) are the weekly chance for <i>Pathfinder</i> fans, writers, and occasionally us editor types to meet up and discuss the future of the Paizo product line, campaign setting, and more in realtime. Visit <a href="http://irc.otherworlders.org/chat/cf.php">http://irc.otherworlders.org/chat/cf.php</a> and enter #pathfinder as the channel, or direct your chat client (such as mIRC) to:</p>
<blockquote><p><b>SERVER:</b> chat.psionics.net
<br><b>PORT:</b> 6667
<br>CHANNEL:</b> #pathfinder</p></blockquote>
<p>Many thanks to message board regular EP Healy for posting his summarized log of the chat.</p>
<p>James Sutter
<br>Assistant Editor, <i>Pathfinder</i></p>
</blockquote><p><a href="https://paizo.comcommunity/blog/tags">Tags</a>: <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/community">Community</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/people/authors/erikMona">Erik Mona</a>, <a href="https://paizo.com/community/blog/tags/paizo/interviews">Interviews</a></p>2007-05-03T00:00:00Z