Paizo has built itself upon the strength of its adventures—the first offerings we published set in the world of Golarion were adventures of different types, ranging from short encounters with maps and minis included to classic 32-page softcover standalone modules, and of course, the flagship monthly adventure line: Pathfinder. This line’s name became the more specific “Pathfinder Adventure Path” two years later when we launched the Pathfinder RPG, but ever since that first volume kicked off Rise of the Runelords nearly two decades ago, the format has largely remained the same. Even as we’ve recently shifted to a focus on three-part Adventure Paths, the physical nature of the product hasn’t changed from a softcover 96-page monthly softcover book.

Pathfinder Battlecry! is now available! We enlisted a whole platoon of authors to bring you the most up-to-date intelligence from the front in the form of new backgrounds, classes, archetypes, spells, items, and more!

As Lost Omens lore solidified early in Pathfinder’s first edition, the distant islands of Iblydos appeared briefly and rarely—often just a mention listed among other realms or an apocryphal sidebar pondering the origins of minotaurs. As a reader, I could tell Iblydos wanted to evoke classical Greek culture and myth, yet there was precious little to find. Thankfully, I didn’t just get to read about Iblydos; I wrote the gazetteer for Aelyosos, a major port city and fans’ first window into what makes this archipelago special. And now a decade later, we’ve returned in a big way: the Myth-Speaker Adventure Path, a mythic campaign for 1st-level characters!

The village was scared, that much Grimmyr could sense. While by now he was used to many of the peoples of Golarion being intimidated by his towering form, this fear had nothing to do with him. It had clearly seeped into the community long before he arrived. The faces of the townsfolk were pale and tired. Their movements were slow and languid, as if a heavy weight pressed down upon them. It even seemed to affect the atmosphere—dark clouds gathered overhead, and the flowers ringing the small stone plinth at the center of the village green were wilted and dying. Grimmyr’s heart ached to see such distress.

It was with supreme regret that Ulka concluded the younger Blackjackets were looking at her with admiration. Not a revelation she wanted to have on the battlefield, especially while splattered with ghoul blood. She grimaced and wiped the flecks of crimson sludge off her arm, tinting streaks of her green skin black. The length of her polearm usually kept the mess at bay, but these rotbags were full of more fluids than she was used to, and they tended to burst.

Like many of his kind, Grimmyr is unable to return home.