GM Standback's page

Filigree is the "dark and stormy night" of 300-word magic item submissions: there's nothing inherently wrong with it, but it's not necessarily getting the effect you're going for.

Obviously, all judging is subjective, but it's a matter of public perception more than anything else.

You'd never see a jury seated with no women on it. "American Idol" and similar shows all have at least one woman on the judging panel. Justice is supposed to be blind and impartial, but it's generally accepted that it's a good thing to have women and minorities on the Supreme Court. No establishment who expected to be seen as having a firm commitment to diversity would have its hiring or admissions offices made up of nothing but white males, even if they're the most fair and impartial guys in the world. It just looks bad.

I would predict that if Paizo put a female judge on the R1 panel next year and promoted it, they would see an uptick in submissions from females who felt more welcome because there was someone "like them" on the panel. It would demonstrate Paizo's commitment to increasing female presence in the hobby more than any podcast or marketing campaign or similar gimmick.

I just wanted to say a big "thank you" to Paizo and the individual organizers who clearly took this point to heart. I immediately noticed that every single round's judging panel has a woman on it. This hasn't gone unnoticed, nor unappreciated.

(Well, another way would be to submit a cellphone made of filigree.)

Clark, I'd hold out for a Marathon Voter title on the forums as well. Stand firm; demand what you deserve!

Okay, guys, I'm afraid I'm going to call the code on this one.

It doesn't look to me like we're getting this game off the ground. My apologies to you all; I did not devote enough time to keep the game at a decent clip when we started; we had momentum at the beginning, but I feel like I pretty much let it trickle away. Part of that was me being busy; part of that was individual absences from various players; part was dragging out the character intos... A whole lot of factors, but altogether, now we're at a standstill, and down to two active players.

I confess, I had a lot of trouble here; I wasn't prepared for the pace of a PF PbP game. I've played other PbP games before, but they were much more freeform and character based. In retrospect, I was having a lot of trouble all along the way figuring out where to pause and where to hurry on by - problems I didn't have in looser games. That was a lot of it, and I admit, part of me being willing to throw in the towel is that I'm enjoying the company immensely, but really not enjoying the medium.

So, my apologies, and thank you all for trying with me! I wish this had turned out better, but I'm glad we did as much as we did :)

Yours sincerely,

Ziv

:(

Let's keep companions together with their PCs; it'll keep things simpler.

Should I roll initiative for everybody, to avoid an unnecessary round of messages?

Two zombies lumber through the open door, hissing and grabbing at you as they draw themselves out!

Encounter map - round 1

Initiative:
Zombie1: 1d20 ⇒ 2
Zombie2: 1d20 ⇒ 20

Welcome back, Pedro!
I'll send out emails today to try to get back our focus :)

The muffled noises grow louder, thumpier, and the entire carriage begins to rattle.

Ack. I suddenly realize I can't just swap out the map image like I'd intended to.

Does anybody know a service/site or other easy way where I could host the image, and swap the actual image every time I update it, with the URL staying the same? I've got a few hacky things I could do, but I'd rather not.

Shalewigg, standing by the carriage that's still upright, you can hear muffled movement from within. You now see that the carriage's door has barred from the outside, held with a spear wedging the door's handles together.

Arthorion walks around the scene carefully, watching his steps and trying to figure out what happened here.

The ground is still trampled from the fight. The trail, covered with snow, shows clear tracks leading into the forest. As Arthorion approaches to examine them more closely, he gains a better view of the icy statue. This is no work of sculpture - it is a bloody body of a Taldan captain, frozen in the ice. Frozen severed limbs and shavings lie strewn on the ground before him.

Casting detect magic.

You don't sense any magical auras present at the moment.

How do we put ourselves on the map?

Well, I don't have anything fancy (recommendations welcomed!). I wasn't intending for you to "move your own markers." But you can just say what square on the grid you're positioning yourself on. I'll just add 'em to the map manually.

Yahn meanders over to the overturned carriage. There are no survivors here - no, just two young women, collapsed backwards over the upturned seat. Their faces and torsos are covered with pierced pinpricks - tiny needles and shards of ice. There is no smell of death or decay; the cold has preserved them perfectly.

Here's a map of the scene. You're coming along the path from the west; position yourself however you like.

Since evening is falling already, the party beds down at the tavern, and sets out before dawn the next morning. Willowbark, and several others, accompany you to the edge of the village - but no farther.

Six miles south of Heldren, the temperature growing cooler as you walk, you reach the edge of the Border Wood. The road ahead is littered with debris and the corpses of slain humans and horses. A carriage stands in the roadway, its team of horses missing or cut free, while another overturned carriage lies sprawled and broken next to the tree line. To the south, more bodies have fallen around what appears to be a statue of ice. A snowy trail leads deeper into the forest.

Sorry for the downtime, guys - holidays here have been crazy.
Back and starting the crunchy stuff on Sunday :)

Landon, Steven? Any preparations? Anybody need to go to the bathroom before we leave? :P

Willowbark explains precisely how to find the spot where the Lady's caravan was attacked, a few miles south of the village. This seems to be the best lead you have to beginning your search.

Is there anything else you want to do in the village before you set out? Any specific preparations?

Shalewigg's words seem to shake the northman awake. "The creatures that took her--" he shakes his head in the recollection. "At first we thought they were mere bandits. Outlaws of no consequence at all; when I roared, they trembled, and they died.

"You may not think it to see them - tiny sprites no taller than the lenghth of a man's forearm. But do not be fooled, not for an instant. The winter-touched are fey who have sworn themselves to the White Witches of Irrisen, those who stole our lands from us during the Winter War. Each has a sliver of frozen ice lodged in their hearts, and their touch bears the harsh bite of winter."

Oerstag pulls the coverings tight around him, hardly noticing that he is doing so. "The moment they could grab her, the fey and the bandits took Lady Argentea into the forest, back through the ice and snow. Beyond that, I don't know. I chased after them as far as I could, but the winter-touched were too many and too hard to fend off in the snow alone. I barely escaped, and rode to seek help here."

Willowbark looks over each of you in turn. "Well," she says at last, "I hardly expected so bold an offer, and from such diseperate individuals. This... forgive me for saying so, but it nigh near miraculous." Xanthippe, leaning in on the conversation, makes a rude noise, which Willowbark serenely ignores. "I thank you all. Come, then. I will take you to Master Oerstag. He can tell you best what you may face."

With that, she turns to lead you from the tavern. Xanthippe immediately falls into step behind her, and as you walk through the town, several others begin trailing behind you as well. Upon reaching her apothecary, Willowbark ushers you in, and shoos the onlookers away - though they stay, hovering, out in the front garden.

The shop is neat and well-tended, with herbs, powders, and alchemical goods stocked, stacked and meticulously labled. Beyond a curtain is a room no less meticulous, save the bloody northman lying, hulking, abed in the middle of it.

Though they are wrapped in bandages, the mercenary's nose, toes, and fingers show the black hue of frostbite. His left arm is wrapped so completely and bulkily that his hand isn't visible at all, and it seems like the arm may be shorter than the right one. You can see him exerting himself merely to sit up, and then he waves you come closer. "You are bound for the forest, then? Would that I could got with you." His voice is cracked and dry - a voice used to speaking loudly and powerfully, now newly dulled. "My ancestors would ridicule my lack of valor for fleeing rather than fighting to the end. But I faced enemies that even the greatest warriors in the Linnorm Kingdoms have faltered against, though I think I slew at least one of them before they dragged Lady Althea away." He meets your eyes gravely, as though daring you to challenge him.

"I think perhaps we should take the initiative."

Yahn strides across the room and confronts the woman who was pointed out to him. "Mistriss Willowbark, I'm told? I heard there's a guard with a good story of an attack on his charge, and you can direct me to him."

Willowbark breaks off her conversation with Shalewigg. She looks momentarily flustered, and then delighted. "You as well! See, Mistress," she turns back to Shalewigg, "The first of many, as I hoped! Your companions as well, Master?" She is back to Yahn, and indicating the half-orc and his cub.

Then she turns away from both conversations, and closes on Arthorion in quick, long strides. "Well. Three travelers, all ready to come to Heldren's aid. I am sorry, sir, but your pleasure must wait. Take a flagon with you if you must, but you will accompany us to the apothecary." Before he can utter a word, she adds sharply, "That isn't a request."

I need no escort protests the witch. Simply tell me where this Yuln is, and I will learn what I must before we continue.

Considering the elf's first comment, she adds, If there are not enough me to go after her, something is wrong. There is either great danger or no reward. Is undesirable that the noblewoman return?

"Very much the first. Perhaps a bit of the second," Willowbark answers after a short consideration. "The forest grows icier every day, and we... we are a small village. Not many of us would know how to carry sword or arrow, and fewer still well enough that the attempt be anything more than plain suicide. The news of the lady's capture has not yet reached far - though it's reached you; that bodes well. You may simply be the swiftest.

"As for reward, as I say, we are are a small village, embroiled in danger far beyond our league. I dare say the village, the lady, and her noble family will all give sincere gratitude for any help offered; any help whatever. The event is so fresh, the Council has not named a reward; I suspect the lady's family has not even yet heard of her abduction. I cannot say what shape or form that gratitude may take. Is..." Willowbark hesitates. "Does this present a problem?

Shalewigg catches the elves just as they are entering the tavern. The male is already inside, but the female turns to meet her. These men say there is a noble woman to be rescued. I care little for the idea of nobility, but I'll not see any woman help against her will. Do you know where I could find the search party?

"Greetings to you, Mistress," she says, with a polite inclination of her head. She introduces herself as Mistress Willowbark, and continues, "Your interest and aid are welcome to us indeed. The fact of the matter is that we have not yet enough men willing to venture into the forest, but doubtless we soon will. We shall notify Councillor Teppen that you have volunteered, and she will know who else is already committed. I would also have you speak with Master Yuln - he was present when the Lady was abducted; he will certainly help you prepare, and he is now healing in my apothecary."

She looks away from Shalewigg for a moment, casting a baleful glance into the tavern. "However, I must find somebody to convey you to the Councillor and to Master Yuln. I have a person I am charged to guard. I cannot let him out of my sight, and I... well, I suspect going without us may be quicker."

Xanthippe allows a wry grin at Groflek's "useless bodyguard" quip. "Be that as it may," she says, "I wouldn't hurry to express that opinion too nearby the man."

"Sounds like a plan to me," says Yahn, "Care to give us some directions, sweetheart?"

"Don't call me sweetheart," Groflek retorts. Then he sees where Yahn was looking. "Oh. Well, just don't call me sweetheart."

Xanthippe's grin grows far merrier; as it does, the tavern door opens yet again. "You're in luck," she says. "She's got 'im." At the entrance stand a pale elven man with a large cat by his side, and an elven woman looking far less exotic. "That's Tessaraea Willowbark; she's got the town apothecary, and that's where our man is."

The male enters with his feline companion, which promptly treats Farrak to a bold hiss. Willowbark appears about to follow him, but then stops and turns in the other direction. She seems engaged in conversation, but she nonetheless holds the door open, letting in the night air, and glaring pointedly at the elf every few moments.

Shalewigg and her new entourage follow the road to investigate. The witch keeps her guard up in the company of men, looking to identify the one most likely to take advantage. Whatever her conclusions, she pushes forward toward the woods where the noblewoman was taken.

The fishermen seem quite harmless. Some seem motivated out of sincere concern for her; others would rather she just left them alone, but as their friends are going, do not wish to stay behind on their own.

It is not much further. Various shops and homes line the main road, and another few minutes brings the party to the town square. Here the fishermen bob around uncertainly before suggesting Shalewigg apply to one of the Councilmen with her interest. They are more than eager to say their farewells.

Though there are several sights worthy of consideration in the square, perhaps most unusual are the two elves with an enormous, cat-like creature beside them. The cat is fully as pointy-eared as the elves are.

"...And what is your business in this town, Mistress Willowbark?"

"Heldren is my home now," Willowbark answers. She has shifted to Elven to match Arthorion, but her speech is halting, an odd step from Elven's flowing syllables. "I own the town's apothecary. Have you a profession, where you come from?"

As they walk they pass the sawmill, then a respectable village temple. Soon they reach the town square. In its center stands a large statue of a beautiful woman; nearby, some merchants hawk their wares. A far corner of the square is dominated by a tall clock tower; to Arthorion, it is so vastly different from anything he's seen in the wild that he finds it somewhat unsettling.

Willowbark points out the tavern, sitting at another corner of the square. "The Slver Stoat," she says, as though no more explanation is necessary. Perhaps it isn't.

"I could be persuaded. This was a noble who was attacked, presumably with pockets of some notable depth?"

Xanthippe grins widely. "I like the way your mind works, sir. That does seem like a safe assumption. Of course, for specifics, you might want to ask the bodyguard."

@Shalewigg:

The fishermen seem even more taken aback at Shalewigg's zeal then they've been up until now. They answer all in a jumble:

"Miss, surely--"
"Border Wood--"
"It's in Heldren, y'see, but--"
"--now why would you--"
"--sure they'll take care of it, don't you trouble--"
"--absolutely not--"
"--well, my goodness!"

Despite their stammering, Shalewigg has no difficulty extracting directions from the fishermen. The only trouble is that all five of them insist on accompanying here as far as Heldren, even though they're clearly quaking in their boots.

Kudos, Steven! Really looking forward to it :D Tell us some editing battles sometime...

The girl with long black hair cocks her head a bit. You say the road is dangerous? I have only found poachers and men who can't take no for an answer. She hardens her look a bit, rocking her stance as she gestures back down the way she came. Unless a girl insists.

The fishermen frown at this. Worse then men, far worse, says the spokesman. In Heldren, the river turns to ice, and summer is fled. And the road, well, we've only just heard - some fine noblewoman was seized right off it, and dragged into the forest, which has turned cold as winter itself!

Begging your pardon, miss, another fisherman chimes in, But the lady was covered with guards and servants, and you're here walking about on your own! Turn elsewhere, miss, or they'll be sending search parties off after you as well.

Arthorion frowns. "So the people of Heldren are colder than the winter they fear. Though we are evidently unwelcome, I am in no position to decline your offer." The elf reaches for his pocket and pulls out some coins. He opens his hand and shows one gold piece and a few silver and copper pieces resting on his palm. "This is all I have left. We will take whatever food and shelter this can afford, and then you won't need to ever see us again."

Arthorion looks over his shoulder, staring back at the woods from whence he came. Maybe going back there is my best shot at going home, after all.

He looks back at the group. "Which of you shall escort me, then?"

"Do not tempt my patience," snaps the elf, "I've been more than generous, and less than prudent." She pauses to compose herself. "Save your coin. Allowing you here is an act of charity; I see no reason to do it by halves. When you choose to enter the village - which, in truth, I see no reason for you to desire at all - I will accompany you. You may call me Mistress Willowbark. And what is your name?"

Border Wood? I'm trying for the River Porthmos and I could go that way. What's there?

"Sir, we'd be grateful if you would, but only if you know what you're getting into." Xanthippe begins reciting Heldren's recent woes, but it does seem to be the same stories the two have heard already. She does seem extremely urgent on the subject of Lady Argentea's kidnapping, though. "And they came out of the forest, horrible beasts of ice and frost, and they carried her off. None of us can tell what it means; but things are only going from bad to worse, and will, until somebody can find out what it is that is happening in our forest. And, perhaps, even save the Lady's life, if she still lives."

Yahn winks at her. "I'm not half as interested in where I'm going as I'm interested in where I'm staying. Any suggestions?"

Xanthippe smiles at him, all innocent. "What, you and the half-orc and the bear cub besides? Sir, I think you'll be fine right here on the tavern floor."

@Arthorion:

The elf considers for an excruciating length of time. Finally, she replies. "No good and much evil has come out of the Border Wood for some weeks now. It began with the unnatural frost, which you surely have observed. Those who went in to investigate have not returned. And now, the forest's icy fingers have begun to reach out, plucking the unsuspecting - aye, we have only just learned of a traveling noblewoman who has been dragged into the wood. We know not what dark fate awaits her."

She continues, "So you see, sir, why a traveler such as yourself, coming directly out of the forest, is cause for alarm. I cannot let you enter Heldren freely. You say you are no threat, but you practically smell of snow, and have nothing to say but 'let me in, you must let me in.'" She looks him over once more - at his healing wounds; at his cold-weather companion; finally, she meets his gaze head on.

"But I dare not detain an innocent traveler, for if you truly have nothing to do with the forest's curse, then you surely need succor more than any man for miles round. I can offer you this. We will gladly provide you with food and shelter so long as you stay here, at town's edge. As for entering Heldren itself, we will only allow you in under guard."

@Arthorion:

I'm going to call this a Diplomacy check. Your goal is to get into the town, while the elf's goal is not to let a threat into the village.

Diplomacy: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (15) - 1 = 14

Yahn grins widely right back at her, and tilts his head to the side in a show of curiosity.

"Impudence is one of my favorite qualities in a young woman. It saves me the trouble of being impudent myself. Go ahead and introduce yourself."

Farrak raises his head at the intrusion and then goes back to his hunk of meat. And why would we want to introduce ourselves to you?

"Oh, good. Obviously neither of you have any trouble with impudence at all," says the girl, but she's smiling as she says it, and doesn't seem to have taken offense. "I'm Xanthippe, and, well, I make it my business to be reasonably welcoming and as nosy as you find convenient. Somebody had better keep track of what's going on here, and let's be honest - in Heldren, that doesn't really take more than one person."

Though she hasn't moved from your side, Xanthippe has somehow already acquired a drink, and she takes a long swig of it now. "I'm happy to tell you anything you like about myself or about the great town of Heldren, which I'm sure would take all of three minutes - five, if you'd like the grand tour of the town. Not to be missed - we start out in the town square, and we go all the way over to the clock tower! Not to be missed, let me tell you!"

"So, you see, I'm not likely to be the interesting one here. You two, on the other hand -- well! You're obviously not from nearby. And that means you're headed somewhere. Which is simply bound to be interesting, since the only place to head from here just now is into Border Wood, and I'm sure you've heard by now how delightful that's sure to be. Is that where you're going?"

@Yahn and Groflek:

"Wouldn't we all, son. Wouldn't we all," answers the barmaid.

That leaves the two to nurse their drinks, while Farrak makes merry with his meal. While some of the other patrons have left, more keep trickling in; any lull in the conversation is an opportunity to eavesdrop on the locals or peek out the window at the town square outside.

At four o'clock, it turns out Heldren has a clock tower. The bells ring loudly from across the square. Before the ring has faded fully away, the tavern door slams open, and a young human woman enters, grinning widely and heading right towards you. "Well!" she exclaims, "You two aren't from around here, that's for sure!" She plants herself firmly in front of you, waving off a patron and the barmaid who seem poised to come to her side. "You won't mind a little bit of impudence, right? Because it's pretty obvious that some introductions are in order. And if I didn't come over and greet you properly, well then, it'd take you some time to figure out who you need to introduce yourselves to, wouldn't it?"

@Arthorion:

The elf avoids Arthorion's gaze; instead, she turns to confer with the humans. They whisper a short moment before she turns to address him again. "Much ill and no good has come out of that forest of late. We would be fast to offer our hospitality to a beleaguered traveler, but we must know first that you mean us no harm. You will, I am certain, understand our wariness in the face of one so... unusual... as yourself." The men mutter between themselves; "pale as ice," Arthorion catches one of them saying, and then "frost-cat if I ever saw one," from another.

The elf, though, remains polite. "Is there any assurance you can offer us that you pose us no danger? Have you any affiliation? Somebody in the village who can vouch for you, perhaps?"

I was guessing that you'd be offline sundown Friday to sundown Saturdays.

Well, in this case it was sundown Friday through sundown Wednesday :P Oy... it's been a tough week.

Anyway, sundown to sundown is quite correct. Of course, then there's timezone differences...

Yahn hears the following stories:

• Everyone says the weather is unseasonably cold for midsummer — it even snowed in the Border Wood! Most suspect magic is involved, and some fear Qadiran agents played a role in it.

• Old Man Dansby claims that someone keeps stealing from his fields. His farm lies closest to the Border Wood, where half his crops have died from
  an icy frost and the rest have been carried off.

• A farmer’s son took ill a few days ago after falling through the ice over Wishbone Creek. The boy said he spotted a white stag in the forest —and heard it talking — then tried to follow it.

• A group of rangers in the Border Wood called the High Sentinels usually keep bandit activity curbed. They’re doing a poor job if brigands could attack a well-armed caravan and abduct Lady Argentea.
  

Guys, sorry I went AWOL for a few days there - lots of big Real-World stuff has been keeping me very pressed for time. I really didn't mean for that to impact the game. Anyway, I'm going to make an effort to post at least once daily from now on (except probably Saturdays).

@Shalewigg:

Oh, aye, answers a small fisherman with a boyish face. Not just the river, but the whole forest entire, I hear. But don't say you're travelling there all on your own! Why, it isn't safe - don't say you heard about the river, but not about the road!

@Arthorion:

The elf does not seem dismayed, and answers Arthorion in Common. You come from the forest, and seem a stranger to our land. We would know who you are and what you are about before we let you freely into our home.

@Groflek and Yahn:

Groflek and Yahn have no difficulty finding the Silver Stoat, Heldren's one and only tavern, sitting right at the edge of the town square. The Stoat at this hour can hardly be described as being busy, but the handful of patrons are all grouped together, chatting convivially, and even the woman tending bar seems in on the conversation. When the two travellers enter, the locals mumble some polite greetings and go back to talking - except the bartender, who comes right up. Welcome to Heldren, sirs, she says, I'm Kale. Where are you coming from? Anything I can get you?

The Stoat has no rooms and no privacy, but Kale cheerfully explains that they're welcome to a spot near the fireplace for the night.

Yahn, is that a Diplomacy check? You get a 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15 result, whose results will be described shortly.