The key to the annex. Art by Yuri Luz

This blog post goes over the lost pages of Dark Archive that some of you may have received or seen circulating in the past few weeks, as well as what lies at the end of them. If you’d prefer to work out the lost pages yourself, or give them to your players to solve together, you can now find them on the product page for Pathfinder Dark Archive.

Otherwise, open the spoiler box below for a bit more information!

Congratulations, Archivists!

Over the past few weeks, we’ve seen many of you receive and share lost pages, pool your knowledge to figure out the clues, and help each other discover the last mystery of the Dark Archive. With a lot of people finding the hidden ninth casefile, In Darkness, we thought it was time to add both the lost pages and the last casefile to the Dark Archive product page as web supplements!

As soon as we locked in on a paranormal book full of rumors and conspiracies, we knew we wanted to hide some secrets in the pages and slightly tangle up the full story of the book for readers to unravel themselves. We hoped by sending out the lost pages, each in a different place or to a different group of people, fans might come together in the spirit of the Dark Archive’s collaboration to find the last chapter revealing the truth of the Archive, its archivist and narrator, Killia Huon-Wynn, and its hidden villain… and I have to say, you all certainly did! It was wonderful to see everyone pitching together to solve pages (and wildly speculate), whether that was on our forums, social media, Reddit, Discord, or anywhere else—I know I wasn’t the only Paizo staffer checking in on these spaces from time to time!

The echo of K.H.W. and the Weaver in Dreams. Art by Corey Rivera.

The lost pages, as well as the final casefile, have been added to the Dark Archive product page as web supplements, so feel free to talk about it as you would any other adventure (including being considerate about spoilers if you know someone’s going to play through the casefile mini-adventures!). Otherwise, let me just take this last chance to thank everyone who helped put this together and congratulate all of you for being splendid Dark Archivists!

Killia Huon-Wynn. Art by Steven William Rand.

In darkness lies enlightenment,

James Case
Senior Designer

Greetings, Archivists,

Pathfinder Dark Archive is almost here! This book wouldn’t have been possible without the creativity and skill of the authors who contributed. To celebrate the release, we wanted to turn the blog over to these writers to reflect on their inspirations for the project and let you know what else they’re up to. Without further ado, here are some of the creators responsible for bringing the paranormal to you! If you liked a section, consider letting them know in the comments or following them on social media!

James Case
Senior Designer

Alternative art of Thaleon and Mios by Denis Zhbankov

Rigby Bendele (they/them)

I’m incredibly proud of my work on Dark Archive, including the Rumored Cryptid adjustment (page 61), "The Beast of Birchfrost" cryptid adventure (pages 66–71; turn to page 69 to see pictures of my son), “Tempting Curses” (page 162) and “Bargained Contracts” (page 164). During the design process, I spent a good amount of time at my local library flipping through folktales. One difficulty with writing concepts based in folklore is avoiding appropriation, as there are a number of tales and creatures that get presented as universal but actually have specific cultural origins. I worked hard to make my pieces feel like they could've come from real world folklore without appropriating.

This work challenged me in ways that made me grow as a designer. It was my first time working on a Pathfinder hardcover book and focusing on mechanical options instead of adventures. I'm excited to see it in everyone's hands at this point. I'm particularly eager to see how people use this work in the future, as I love the collaborative nature of tabletop games.

If you want to hear more from me, you can find me on Twitter @rigbeesknees or check out my work in the Pathfinder Lost Omens Travel Guide.

Jessica Catalan

Hi, I’m Jessica Catalan! I’m the current Starfinder Society Developer and a freelance author who writes a whole lot of words for Pathfinder and Starfinder! For Dark Archive, I wrote the Experimental Cryptid adjustment on page 60, “Time (Oracle Mystery)” on page 188, and “Hazards of Perception” on pages 122–125. Dark Archive is a weird, wild, and wonderful book and I’m beyond proud to be a part of it!

Banana Chan (she/they/he)

Hi! I'm Banana and I'm a game designer and screenwriter. When I was asked to write for Dark Archive, I was ecstatic (but I tried very hard to stay cool so I wouldn't embarrass myself). I wrote the rituals and the adventure “The Verdure of Iblydos” on page 148. Please note, I'm not a licensed psychologist or psychiatrist, I've just done a lot of research for this adventure (this is for any other fans of the podcast Cults). The big inspiration points for me (other than the Cults podcast), were folk horror movies, such as The Empty Man, The Invitation, The Wicker Man, The Blood on Satan's Claw and (of course) Midsommar and how new age beliefs currently operate. The cult leader, Mother Mitera, is specifically inspired by Nine Perfect Strangers, Goop, and Teal Swan.

Art by Tuan Duong Chu

Sen.H.H.S

Hi all, Sen.H.H.S. here. I'm a TTRPG freelancer who started my debut with Pathfinder Bestiary 3 and has since contributed to several other books including Pathfinder Lost Omens Monsters of Myth, Pathfinder Secrets of Magic, “Ready? Fight!” from the Fists of the Ruby Phoenix Adventure Path, and Starfinder Drift Crisis. For the Dark Archive, I had the privilege of working on the first half of “The Last Dream” mindscape adventure on page 208. Yes, “that” map was my doing, you're welcome. :D Currently, I am working on a Pathfinder Infinite project featuring a team of Taiwanese writers. We hope we'll be presenting something about a traveling salesperson with interesting items sometime in the future. Please follow me on Twitter @SenHHS to discover when that will become available.

Oh, lastly, I just want to say

SPIDER BOYFRIEND’S GETTING HITCHED YEAAAAAH!

Joshua Kim (they/them)

Hey everyone! I’m Soup (they/them), a terminally hermit-inclined person that they keep letting write weird stuff. It was incredibly fun to write about the paranormal in a world where “normal” means magic, ghosts, and dragons. I wrote some of the case file lore sections and made sure to include lots of fun prompts that I hope will get your brain juices going. I think I was pretty successful at writing some spooky stuff and I hope you find it as neat as I did! I’m actually about to start running a Pathfinder Second Edition game for my weekly group and the Dark Archive will definitely be a cool book to draw from. I’m super excited to take a look at what the other authors have contributed! If you wanna find more of me rambling about games, writing, customer service, or my obsession of the week, feel free to follow me on Twitter (https://twitter.com/LiteralSoup)

Daniel Kwan (he/him)

Hello! I'm Daniel, a podcaster, game designer, and cultural consultant based in Canada. You might know me as the co-host of the 2x Gold ENnie Award winning Asians Represent! podcast or from my game design work (Candlekeep Mysteries, Avatar Legends, Wicked Congregation, Ross Rifles, & Motherlands RPG). I am also one of the co-founders of Level Up Gaming, a Toronto-based organization that provides the autism community with opportunities to develop social skills through tabletop gaming experiences. I wrote the “Sounds of Violence” incident report on page 115 of Dark Archive. The story prompt revolves around the aoyin, a creature from a classical Chinese text called the Shanhaijing (the Classic of Mountains & Seas)!

Art by Tuan Duong Chu

Jacob W. Michaels

Hi there, I’m Michael W. Jacobs—the so-called “evil” twin of Jacob W. Michaels, or so “they” would have you believe. But I ask, is it evil to expose you to the Echoing Pale? Would it not be worse to leave you in the dark, ignorant to all the lurking dangers blending in with the rest of us on Golarion? What if you didn’t know? What if you didn’t have to always be looking over your shoulder, wondering why the merchant you’ve worked with for years now scowls when you enter her shop? That casual greeting—just a friendly passer-by, or someone who thinks they know you, for some reason you can’t figure out? What if? (Evil twin aside, I’m actually Jacob W. Michaels, regular Paizo freelancer. I got to do the intro to Mirrors and Imposters section on page 116 of Dark Archive. It was a blast, and I hope it gives you something to reflect on.)

Andrew Mullen

Hello, Andrew Mullen here! My contribution to this book is the Mutant Cryptid template on page 59. Want to spice up a monster by making it weak to the memory of the taste of borscht, or some even more bizarre phenomena? I've got you covered! I've always enjoyed monster design, so I was very glad to offer ways GMs can make stranger adversaries.

Beyond this, I'm involved in two other projects of note. Alongside Mikhail Rekun (who you may recognize from the Dark Archive cover!) and Isabelle Thorne (who you may recognize from the Lost Omens Knights of Lastwall cover!), I'm a key member of the Luminant Age team. Luminant Age is a third-party campaign setting for Pathfinder Second Edition, a post-apocalyptic world of strange faiths, strange magics, and stranger creatures. You can find us at http://luminant-age.itch.io. I'm also a judge for the Brewmaster’s Compendium round 3] over on the Pathfinder Second Edition subreddit! Check out your community's creations and see what strange things lurk in areas even the Dark Archive has not cataloged!

Mikhail Rekun (he/him)

Приветствую, уважаемые читатели! My name is Mikhail Sergeyevich Rekun, and I’m one of the cover authors for Dark Archive.

I’ve always been interested in what one might call “Weird History.” As a historian, I mostly deal with formal, scholarly research and education—I even have a book, How Russia Lost Bulgaria, 1878-1886: Empire Unguided (Lexington Books, 2018). After hours though, I’d go down Fortean rabbit-holes like the Eilean Mor disappearances or the Philadelphia Experiment. So, when James Case asked if I wanted my name on the cover of the Dark Archive, well, I could hardly turn him down now, could I?

I wrote the lore sections for the Secret Societies (page 74), Deviant Abilities (page 94), and Curses and Pacts (page 156) sections, as well as “The Sacral King” incident report (combining Emperor Norton I of America with the Fisher King concept, for you Weird History fans) and the “Wishes in Krasnoprudny” adventure, along with several mechanical tidbits here and there.

If you like what you see here, I’m also the creative director of the Luminant Age project, a Weird Swashbuckler setting currently working on fulfilling our second Kickstarter. If you're fond of chimeric vampires and razor-wire whips, please follow us on Twitter at @LuminantA or check out our published products at https://luminant-age.itch.io!

Art by Sammy Khalid

Solomon St. John (they/them),
Editor

Greetings internet. I go by Sol, and I put my teenage special interest in cults and other esoteric faiths to use writing the lore of the Cults section (page 136) along with the “Occult Skill Feats” (page 78) that I hope you’ll enjoy. Atypical understandings of the divine are some of my favorite things to explore, so it was a real treat to take a broad look at some of the unexpected ways people in Golarion connect with the sacred and profane.

My first year and change at Paizo has been delightfully busy; in addition to working full-time as an in-house editor, I also wrote my first OP adventure, Pathfinder Society Scenario #3-12: Fury’s Toll, along with the “Spectra, Corrupted” adventure hook for Starfinder Drift Crisis and the undead companions & familiars from Pathfinder: Book of the Dead which, yes, includes the one that made everybody cry. I’m not sorry. :)

Mark Seifter

I'm Mark Seifter, Roll for Combat director of game design, and Paizo's former design manager as well as one of the four leads on the creation of Pathfinder Second Edition.

In Dark Archive, I wrote an assortment of different pieces, the foremost among them being the thaumaturge class on page 30. Thaumaturges use magical implements and exploit weaknesses and sympathetic connections in order to create magical effects without spellcasting and support various playstyles. I hope the class intrigues you and inspires you to create new characters, but most of all I hope it's fun to play!

I’m @markseifter on Twitter. Check out my Twitch stream with Linda Zayas-Palmer, Arcane Mark, Tuesdays at 7 PM Pacific, and Saturdays at 10 AM Pacific at https://www.twitch.tv/arcanemark, as well as my Roll for Combat Live YouTube stream with Stephen Glicker at https://www.youtube.com/c/RollForCombat/. Both shows cover a variety of RPG and Pathfinder topics! You can also join my discord at https://tiny.cc.arcanemark

Kendra Leigh Speedling (she/her)

Hi, all! I'm Kendra Leigh Speedling, and I wrote the reflection versatile heritage (page 119), apocryphal domain spells (page 142), and the sleepwalker archetype (page 206). The question of what's considered "weird" or "mysterious" in a setting with established magic and supernatural abilities has always been one that's interested me (what exists on the margins of a fantastical world?), and Dark Archive was a great opportunity to explore that. Getting these sections was really cool to work on, since at one point or another, I've written stories about both mirror people and dream magic. The apocryphal domain spells were also a fun challenge, as I tried to come up with more metaphorical or abstract associations with the usual domains. I hope people enjoy these new character options! You can find me (and cat pictures) at Twitter @KendraLS, and my full credits are on my website at klspeedling.com.

Art by Christoph Peters

Alex Speidel (he/him)
Organized Play Coordinator

My family has a very dumb “game” reserved for wedding receptions and other events where we sit around for a while. It goes like this:

Alex: [picks up their knife] This is a duck.
Matthew: A what?
Alex: A duck.
Matthew: Ohhhhh. [takes knife]
Matthew: [to Carol] This is a duck.
Carol: A what?
Matthew: [to Alex] A what?
Alex: A duck.
Matthew: [to Carol] A duck.
Carol: Ohhhhh. [takes knife]
Carol: [to Bill] This is a duck.
This continues until our table gets called for dinner. Anyway in this book there’s a spell that lets you create a contagious illusion, enjoy!

For more excellent content like this, follow me on Twitter @AlexSpeidel.

Isis Wozniakowska (she/her)

Hey all, I’m Isis Woz, one of Paizo’s freelancers. I’ve written for Secrets of Magic, wrote two Starfinder scenarios (Starfinder Society Scenario #3-21: Frozen Ambitions: Renewal’s Blight and Starfinder Society Scenario #5-04: Fragment of the 4th), and I also did work on the upcoming Starfinder Interstellar Species. But for Dark Archive I wrote the mind smith archetype (page 204) and I’m so happy with how it came out! I hope people enjoy having a sword made of pure mental energy to play around with.

For me, Dark Archive was such a treat to work on since it covers so many interests that I’ve had in fantasy. As a longtime fan of paranormal and psychic detective stories—and a comparative literature major with an emphasis in mythology and spiritualism—this book is one that I’ve been excited for since I was given the chance to write for it. Hopefully you all will enjoy it too.

If you ever want to swap character concepts, Dark Archive or otherwise, you can find me on Twitter as @wozenstein, where sometimes I talk about TTRPG things but most of the time I just talk about and retweet Ace Attorney jokes.

Art by Christoph Peters

At least this isn’t in Ustalav, Mios thought, smiling wryly to themself as they approached the Lily Lounge. It hadn’t taken much investigating into the recent mysterious disappearances in Augustana to find all signs pointing to this new luxury lounge, famous almost overnight. If this were Ustalav, Mios figured, the lodge would be full of vampires. Or werewolves. Or some kind of vampiric werewolves like those vukodlaks from last winter.

The Lily Lounge’s clientele, at least the ones who hadn’t been disappearing, tended towards the wealthy; after all, it advertised itself as a luxurious resting place for valiant hunters returning from their hunts. Though Andoran claimed to not have any nobles (technically true), many of these clients were just that in all but name. The real trouble is that the lounge was reported to also let in the less well to do… who would then go missing. Not at the lounge, though, and not right away. Whoever was responsible, likely the owners, weren’t that sloppy. No, these poorer clients were always seen afterwards for some time but mysteriously disappeared within a fortnight, often alongside reports of erratic behavior. Even odds it’s enchantment magic forcing the victim to kidnap themselves, Mios thought, or maybe this is the one time it actually IS a doppelganger replacing them at the lounge.

Regardless, the place was highly suspicious. Though Mios could tell that the lounge’s secrets were rather well-hidden by anyone else’s standards, little things gave it away to their trained eye. Heliotrope planted at the four corners of the lot, to divert close attention. Structure offset slightly from cardinal directions, subtly separating building from external expectations to decrease guard. It even extended to the proprietors—thought of highly, but only ever in the vaguest of terms—even Mios couldn’t discover much about one Gilbert Zoon (the lounge’s founder) or his business partner Sabricia (last name unknown). They’d been seen out during the day, though, so at least they weren’t vampires. And nothing was timed around the full moon…. Mios reflexively reached out and touched the old wound on their leg, another reminder of the past, and what it meant to let down one’s guard. Memories like these were why Mios never regretted leaving Ustalav behind. Here in Andoran, what was the worst it could be? No, Mios thought as they reflexively formed a turning-away sign, better not to jinx it. Some of the old superstitions died hard.

Their reminiscence was broken by an incoming party of young hunters—just the chance Mios had been waiting for. They waited until the hunters had just entered, then adjusted their wolf pelt, held their back straight, and walked forward like they owned the lodge. They’d seen enough nobles in their life that it was easy to put on airs. At the door, Mios made some small talk with the staff before being invited in. Pupil dilation normal, good recall of earlier events, able to respond to abstract questions. The staff didn’t seem to be under any form of direct mind control, though they did seem a bit tense.

After a day or two casing the Lily Lounge, Mios had decided the front door would be better than sneaking in a window or cellar, which would almost certainly be trapped or magically defended against break-ins. Threshold magic—versatile, but dependent on intent. If the owner’s intent was toward privacy, the magic could help reinforce a boundary between the outside and inside. It was the same principle when creating a circle of salt to ward off a ghost—create a boundary, then give it authority. But you can’t bar a door that you’ve opened yourself, like the front door. Let alone put greeters at. Even vampires can freely enter a public building. The staff smiled at Mios, and they walked in.

As Mios entered, two beads on their wrist pulsed once with subtle light, and a tarnished coin on their waist spun slightly. The building had been highly warded, then—but Mios had made it through easily. They absconded down a hallway, away from guests and staff, and reached out an empty hand. Ownership is never broken by mere distance, only a change in relationship. As Mios concentrated on the truism, they felt a familiar weight through their glove. When they looked down at their hand again, their lantern shone in it, and in its light, once-invisible defenses crisscrossed the walls and doors. Mios peered at an especially warded door. Sarkorian abjuration, but corrupted. Strange to see that so far south. It suggested demonic influence, or someone familiar with the Worldwound and its closing. Mios shifted their usual silver blade to a back sheath, replacing it with one of cold-forged iron, just in case. With a bit of effort—more than it usually took—Mios dismantled the wards, opened the door, and crept down the hallway beyond.

Passing nondescript private suites, Mios’s lantern light eventual fell upon a door covered up entirely by an illusion. Curious, since there was no sign of this wing from the outside. Extradimensional, or just a massive illusion? Mios slipped into the room to find out. Ah, the classic trapdoor leading down. That explained it. Maybe just mundane architectural tricks then. The chamber below was furnished in fine silk, imported wood, and elegant paintings, easily the most grandiose and opulent part of the lounge… but in the lantern’s light, the facade melted away. The entire place was a dismal cavern with clear demonic magic coursing through it. Well, clear to Mios. Surely the victims had been fooled. The thaumaturge drew their iron blade.

Mios’s lantern dispels more than just shadows. Art by Roena Rosenberger

As Mios turned the corner, their light shone on two figures who must have been the owners, though no sooner did the light reach them than their true forms were revealed. The man, now a hideous creature with claws and a carapace, shrieked in pain and flinched backwards from the light. Weak to light… no, not to light. Treachery demon. Harmed by truth. An incredibly dangerous threat for the unsuspecting citizenry of Augustana, but Mios began to grin; they were just about the worst possible match-up the demon could face. The thaumaturge reached into one of their many pouches, riffling for a bit before settling on a dried chrysanthemum. They passed the flower through the flame of their lantern and smeared the ash on their pick. They felt the concepts align, felt the tension of forces coming to oppose each other: against an unnatural creature of treachery cloaked in falsehoods, present an object of the natural world, symbolizing honesty, tempered in the light of truth. Three properties from the demon, three from Mios.

Their pick thrummed with power as the creatures howled. Time to get to work.

About the Author

Mark Seifter is the Director of Game Design for Roll for Combat, the former Design Manager at Paizo, and one of the four leads on the creation of Pathfinder Second Edition. He is the author of the thaumaturge class in Dark Archive. You can see him on Arcane Mark with Linda Zayas-Palmer Tuesdays at 7 PM Pacific, and Saturdays at 10 AM Pacific at https://www.twitch.tv/arcanemark, and Roll for Combat Live with Stephen Glicker at https://www.youtube.com/c/RollForCombat/." @markseifter on Twitter.

About Iconic Encounters

Iconic Encounters is a series of web-based flash fiction set in the worlds of Pathfinder and Starfinder. Each short story provides a glimpse into the life and personality of one of the games’ iconic characters, showing the myriad stories of adventure and excitement players can tell with the Pathfinder and Starfinder roleplaying games.

Gazing past his easel at the bustling Commerce District of Niswan, Thaleon’s thoughts wandered once again. They rarely stayed put, but life would hardly be any fun if they did. There were so many delicious new sensations to take in, from the kites dancing overhead to the tempting sizzle of vegetable wraps from a nearby food stall. He observed the colors of the market, his eye lingering on a small shrine where a priest was drawing the rose of Shelyn in colored powders. The Rahadoumi elf didn’t worship to any gods himself, of course, but he had nothing but respect for the old priest’s lifelong devotion and mastery as his fingers effortlessly scattered a vibrant green around the rose’s exterior. Thaleon turned back to his own easel to paint with his mind’s eye, the emotions of the market his palette. He blended the vibrant gold of a cunning merchant’s intellect with the frustrated red of the customer she had just outwitted in a battle of bargains. Now for some green as well, the color of growth, flexibility, potential...

Thaleon frowned. He sensed a green, but it was of an altogether unpleasant, oily variety, coming from a woman in pristine robes, her ravenous eyes scouring the market. Wanting to get closer, Thaleon steadied his mind and searched his feelings until he found the one he needed. Calmness, boredom… no, listlessness. The drabbest of grays, utterly unremarkable. Without so much as an incantation, Thaleon cloaked himself in the emotion and vanished from sight. Quick and quiet as a shadow, he slipped through the marketplace. Most would struggle to navigate a crowd, even invisibly, without bumping into a customer or jostling a cart, but Thaleon had decades of practice slipping by unnoticed and had long ago learned the consequences of getting caught.

The woman’s eyes found their target, and a predatory grin spread across her face. The crowd before her instinctively parted, and within moments, she held her prey in her grasp, her nails digging deep into the priest’s shoulders. As blood pooled in their wake, the woman whispered a single word, “Watch.” Her eyes flashed that oily green, the unmistakable swirl of magic about them. Thaleon saw nothing, but he felt the man’s terror, pure white and primal as the priest gazed with horror at a nightmare no one else could see. He fell to his knees and pushed the nearby offering basket, filled with flowers and a few coins. “Please, not them. Take what you want from me, just don’t….” His words were cut short as he vomited onto the cobblestones. The woman scowled with disgust. “This is your final warning.” With a regal nod, she strode away, splitting the crowd in her wake.

Thaleon’s hands trembled. He wanted to soothe the priest’s terror and pain, but he knew the man couldn’t find peace while the monster’s threat loomed over him. He reached for compassion—blue, tranquil as a cloudless sky—and sent it flowing into the priest, calming the man and closing his wounds. The priest glanced about, seeking the source of the swirling colors.

“Don’t worry, Father,” Thaleon whispered from the empty air, “you’re not alone.”

He quickened his pace and strode after the woman. From that display, it was clear what manner of monster she was. All Thaleon needed was a chance, away from the market stalls where so many innocents walked, to show the fiend exactly what he felt about her threats. As fortune would have it, it didn’t take long before she chose to turn down a secluded alleyway.

Thaleon didn’t need to search for his fury, it was right at his fingertips, and he used it to paint a simple blade in the air, the shape of the blade he’d been given when he left home. As the blade shot towards the woman, red fury burned away the tranquil gray that had kept Thaleon invisible, but he wasn’t afraid to let the monster see his face. With a feline growl, she rolled out of the blade’s path, scuffing her robes, before spinning toward Thaleon. Her hands spun too, twisting backward, and weaving shadowy threads of magic.

An agonizing scream echoed within Thaleon’s mind, reverberating and tearing. He steeled his will against the oncoming tide, instinctively countering each wave of psychic sound until silence prevailed once again. Definitely a rakshasa, then. And one who underestimated him too, having chosen to attack him on the battlefield of the mind. Thaleon felt a surge of pride; if she wished to play with occult magic, she’d picked the wrong opponent.

As the rakshasa leapt forward, Thaleon transmuted his pride into certainty and fortitude, summoning a disc of force in the air. Claws met the barrier and cracked it like glass, but Thaleon’s brow furrowed as he poured more will, more certainty, into the spell. More translucent shields sprung into being, and though the rakshasa’s claws shattered two of the discs, they could do no more than carve a groove into the third. She rebounded back, and Thaleon released a stream of chaotic emotion that collected around the rakshasa’s feet, dragging her to the ground, but not before she wove shadows into a bolt of flame that clipped Thaleon’s side.

Arm throbbing, Thaleon’s fury blotted out all thought, bursting forth as the air shook with color. While the rakshasa was getting to her feet, he painted again, pouring out his heart to form not just one rage-blade, but an entire storm of them hovering above the alleyway.

Thaleon’s emotions unleash in a torrent of thought. Art by João Fiuza

With an oily green flash of the rakshasa’s eyes, a sickening vision filled Thaleon’s mind—a group of rakshasas savoring a platter of roast meat unmistakably elven in origin. For an instant, the artist’s stomach churned before he recognized the intrusion and broke the enchantment. This twisted scene was the rakshasa’s dream, not his. Still, if she expected him to be sick... he retched loudly, hoping the monster’s pride would dull her suspicions. Right on cue, she charged, claws extended, running at full speed until she was just below the hanging blades. Thaleon rose from the ground, and with a last exertion, let the blades fall, each sharper and more jagged than the last.

The rain lasted for only a moment, but when it was finished, Thaleon’s fury subsided, replaced by relief and sorrow for the fiend’s past victims. No more rakshasas threatened Niswan that day.

About the Author

Linda Zayas-Palmer is the Development Manager for the Digital Adventures team, which produces Organized Play scenarios and other digital-only adventure content. Her largest projects as an author are Paizo's Fires of the Haunted City and the final third of the Roll for Combat's Jewel of the Indigo Isles Adventure Path. You can see her on Arcane Mark with Mark Seifter on Tuesdays at 7 PM Pacific and Saturdays at 10 AM Pacific at https://www.twitch.tv/arcanemark.

About Iconic Encounters

Iconic Encounters is a series of web-based flash fiction set in the worlds of Pathfinder and Starfinder. Each short story provides a glimpse into the life and personality of one of the games’ iconic characters, showing the myriad stories of adventure and excitement players can tell with the Pathfinder and Starfinder roleplaying games.

Thaleon was born in the deserts of Rahadoum, in a time before the sands had come to claim Manaket.

A member of the nomadic vourinoi, the elves of the desert, Thaleon was born from two worlds: one parent a woman from the forested elven homeland of Kyonin, the other a kala-shei elf who had always called the dunes their home. As a child, Thaleon traveled from oasis to oasis, learning to appreciate the beauty of the passing landscapes. He was taught to navigate by the stars and find safe water, when to travel, and when to hide from the sun, but most of all, he was taught of an ideal almost too abstract for his young mind to grasp—the quest for a moment of clarity his people called the Brightness. Each described it differently—the windsinger spoke of it as a pure note before dawn, the cook said it felt like the first taste of a family meal—but their anecdotes had one thing in common: to find his Brightness, Thaleon would need to wander the world and make his own path.

While Thaleon was still a child, the vourinoi ventured to the coastal city of Manaket, known for its lush gardens and academic learning, to relay a warning. Through their wanderings, they had studied the subtler patterns of climate and weather playing out over decades and centuries, more noticeable over their elven lifespans. In these patterns, they’d seen a rapid spread of desertification in Rahadoum, with long-verdant shelters now exposed to the desert’s wrath. Working together over several years, the vourinoi and various Manaketi scholars predicted a great storm of dust and sand would envelop the city, choking the sky and devastating crops. Yet government officials wouldn’t take their warnings seriously; they were too focused on shorter-term priorities to risk their popularity by proposing expensive measures to prevent some potential future disaster.

While his parents researched, Thaleon was thrilled to explore a new place filled with wildly different peoples, though he chafed under Manaket’s rigid structure. Why should such a trifling thing as a property line tell him he couldn't perch on a roof to enjoy the starlight? Why would one leave an object in a common area if they didn't mean for anyone to pick it up? Why would one hold an interesting conversation in a public place if they wanted it to remain private? The boy was ever inquisitive and prone to getting swept up in the moods of those around him, taking part in their enthusiasm and wonder, as well as their frustration and pain.

Thaleon, the iconic psychic. Art by Wayne Reynolds

Thaleon’s teachers were quick to label him a problem child due to his tendency to break rules and encourage classmates to do the same, as well as for the strange incidents that regularly happened around him. Confiscated toys hovered back to his fingers as soon as a teacher’s back was turned. Distracting sounds would fill the room during boring lessons. While unfamiliar to Thaleon’s vourinoi family, his Rahadoumi teachers were well acquainted with psychic power, given the country’s tradition of magic that sprung from mortal will. Though his instructors thought it best to place Thaleon in a strict, isolated program to discipline his mind and powers, Thaleon’s parents realized the boy was too free-spirited to flourish in a regimented Rahadoumi classroom. Instead, they set challenges for their son to channel his energy. Find the fastest way from the city gate to the fountain. Detail the journey of a fish from egg to stewpot. Lure a scorpion into a trap without getting stung. Capture a mirage in bluest ink. This last challenge sung the most to Thaleon’s heart, and the boy quickly took up painting, his portraits filled with vibrant colors and complex expressions that always managed to capture a subject’s deeper feelings, even ones they had only hinted at aloud.

One sunset, while Thaleon was putting the finishing touches on a portrait of a fruit seller, he felt oddly tense, his brush quavering in his hand. As tension deepened into apprehension, then fear, he realized the emotion wasn’t his own. The people in the marketplace turned eastward, staring at an unfamiliar cloud on the horizon, one that rushed toward them with unnerving speed. Street dogs howled and birds fell silent. Thaleon knew instantly what it was. The long-predicted storm, come at last.

Drawing a scarf over his mouth, he tried to direct the crowd to safety, but his voice couldn’t rise above the panic, a thousand scrawls of stark white closing in from every direction. The desire to protect the crowd grew in Thaleon’s mind until it finally spilled forth, unleashing itself in a flash of color. For the first time, Thaleon painted with his mind instead of his brush, and soothing lights flickered into existence, drawing attention away from the storm for a few critical moments. In the momentary calm, Thaleon’s voice had a chance to carry as he directed the market indoors and underground.

To Thaleon’s relief, the crowd took shelter, yet the merchant he’d been painting remained frozen in place as the storm approached. The canopy of his stall snapped, sending a heavy beam of wood straight for his head. In that moment, Thaleon felt only one emotion: the desire to protect his friend. As he dashed to the merchant’s side, colors wove together into a dome of telekinetic force, covering them both. The debris crashed against it just as the storm descended. Sand and wind raged, but the barrier held, and in the swirling reds, blues, and yellows, for the briefest second, Thaleon glimpsed a color he’d never seen before, one he couldn’t describe… but he knew it was bright.

On that day, Thaleon’s power became more than a source of entertainment and whimsy. It became a way for him to make the world a better place. A century has passed since the day Manaket’s gardens withered in the sandstorm, but the spark of Thaleon’s curiosity and his desire to help others hasn’t diminished. Like his parents before him, Thaleon left home to wander the world in search of his Brightness, determined to make his own path.

Linda Zayas-Palmer
Development Manager

Growing up in Caliphas, in the haunted nation of Ustalav, Mios Uriev learned that monsters can look like anyone, but they normally look like the rich.

Mios was born poor in the city of dark excess. In a place where disappearances were the norm, their parents raised them with a strict but protective hand, shutting the door to their meager home firmly at night. Mios took solace from this grim upbringing in knowledge, diving into whatever books they could get their hands on and seeking tales wherever they could find them, resulting in an eclectic education. One month, they memorized religious hymns from Andoran; another, they’d rush to finish their errands so they could see a presentation on medical practices from Qadira. It didn’t matter the subject, so long as they could dig into the knowledge the world of books presented to them. They had few friends, but that mattered little in the face of the company their learning provided.

Grown into a young adult full of studied confidence, Mios found work as a night coach driver—though they aspired to something loftier, opportunities were limited for a young worker of their means. Night after night, through pounding rain and choking fog, they drove their charges from grand homes to lavish parties and more often than not, their patrons gave Mios the chills. Perhaps it was the unnatural pallor of their faces or the glint of too-sharp teeth, but Mios became increasingly convinced that a number of Caliphas’s elite were monsters. And one night, their fears were proven true.

Mios, the iconic thaumaturge. Art by Wayne Reynolds.

That night, under the light of the full moon, Mios drove a young noble to a banquet at a secluded mansion. The man seemed agitated, restless, fidgeting and twitching and pulling the blinds tight. A shiver laced through Mios’s stomach as the carriage began to shake. An enormous roar split through the night as the foolish noble tore through his finery, the transformation taking him. Scrambling, Mios pulled the cart to the side of the darkened road, grabbing their lantern.

The wolf leaped forward with dripping maw, tearing at Mios’s leg with yellowed canines and letting out a sickening crunch as tooth hit bone. With a swing of their arm, Mios shone their lantern in the creature’s face, shouting to drive him off. The beast recoiled, almost seeming to remember himself for a moment, the lantern’s light illuminating his feral form. The creature dove from the carriage and scrambled into the night, leaving Mios bleeding... but alive.

A werewolf bite, they thought grimly as they drove home, barely hanging onto consciousness. Countless cures written in dusty tomes or purported by local folk healers, but none proven, none reliable. No hope, most might think. But Mios believed in knowledge, believed in the power of the written word and the passed-down tale. Over the next month, they nursed their near-shattered leg, which would heal but never be quite the same, always requiring a brace to hold it steady. While their body recovered, they stretched their mind, reading every text they could get their hands on, apocryphal or not, and trying every reported cure. Herbal remedies, blood sacrifices of small animals, and stranger, they tried method after method, hoping one would stick. When the full moon next came, they drove into the woods and waited in terror for what all said was inevitable. The moon rose painfully slow, each moment an agonizing wait for the pain to begin, for the cracking of bones and sprouting of fur and claw. But the night waxed on, and the moon reached its anticlimactic zenith. Mios sat in silence. Could it be possible? Had they found a cure among the dozens of methods they tried? It appeared so. Which cure had actually worked, they’d never know, but their dedication and desperation had paid off. They had fought off the bite.

After their miraculous escape from this dark fate, Mios’s everyday life, ferrying others back and forth along the same wagon tracks, seemed devoid of meaning. They had discovered an incredible truth: fates weren’t sealed. Their learning, their dedication, it made them more than just a driver. To continue with their previous life felt like a waste of the gift they were just beginning to realize they possessed. Because the world was full of dark things, the powerful preying on the weak. Their lantern, which once shone the way through darkened streets, could shine a light on creatures of the night and bring hope to those in need.

And so, Mios set forth on a life of adventure, knowledge as their weapon. The unknown, the dark, all could be illuminated by the right source: their wit, their determination, and their lantern’s unfailing light.

Avi Kool
Lead Editor