Pathfinder: Era Of The Lost Omens
Welcome!
What you are about to read is my attempt to transpose the canonical events of the role-playing game Pathfinder, now in its second edition, into narrative.
Exactly. What you're about to read is my personal spin on the may events that happened in Golarion, the mysterious world created by the authors of Paizo, inspired by all the sessions I played with my friends. I will try to weave a narrative inspired by the events of different Adventure Paths, starting with the very first scuffle against lowly goblins... ad hopefully reaching an adequately epic ending!
So, take a deep breath, and get ready to travel through the myths and legends of Golarion!
All the trademarks I will use in this fan fiction are owned by Paizo or by Legendary Games, a group of third party developers who have written quite a bit of material for the first edition of Pathfinder, and who have authored the sword-and-planet series "Legendary Planet". Such trademarks are used in this fanfiction for fun and non-profit purposes.
Very well, fellow fantasy fans! Time to take a trip to Golarion! Enjoy the reading!
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PROLOGUE
"Lady Alaznist. I hope you'll forgive the intrusion."
A clear and eloquent, yet distinctly arrogant and cruel male voice echoed in the large, richly decorated sanctuary, just a moment after an imposing figure materialized at the entrance. Two pairs of indignant eyes abruptly turned to the intruder, who advanced with a confidence bordering on hubris, as if daring the inhabitants of the sanctuary to stop him.
"The time has come. Thassilon falls today." the man continued, with the same detachment he would have had if he was talking about the weather. The magical flames that burned in the braziers neatly arranged in the salon spectacularly illuminated the man's figure - tall, with an impressive physique and a charming countenance, short jet black hair and a matching, well-groomed goatee. Complex runes were tattooed on his chest and arms, instantly giving him away for who he truly was - one of the seven Runelords, the immensely powerful wizards who ruled the satrapies that once were Thassilon.
The first of the two figures already standing in the sanctuary - a tall and statuesque middle-aged woman with long red hair, garbed in elegant red-and-gold robes, her face perpetually contorted in a furious expression - imperiously stepped towards the man. "How dare you be so reckless as to violate my sanctuary, Xanderghul?" she thundered. "Your much vaunted pride will eventually lead you to you death!"
"You are not welcome here, Runelord!" growled the massive creature covered in purple scales standing next to the woman in red.
The man named Xanderghul, known as the Runelord of Pride, met such threats with an almost bored expression as he smoothed the long green cloak he was wrapped in. His collar, made in peacock feathers carefully weaved together, moved just a little as Xanderghul calmly approached. "Would you be so kind as to silence your creature, Alaznist, lest I am forced to banish it?" he asked presumptuously. "It would be remiss not to inform you that your council chamber can hardly impress me. I have just come back from the throne room of the Emperor of Azlant himself."
The woman, Alaznist, approached Xanderghul until she was almost an inch away from his nose, trying to invade his space. "Azlant?" she growled. "So you would go back to those who exiled us, like a kicked dog to its master? I knew you were a self-centered fool, Xanderghul, but I didn't think you a traitor, too!"
Xanderghul gave Alaznist a sidelong glance. "Azlant is now in ruins." he replied. "It is but a shadow of its former glory. And the emperor is growing old and weak. He has gone so far as to beg me to take his place on the Glass Throne." He swept his gaze around the council room. "And I must admit, it has a pleasing ring to it. Xanderghul, Emperor of Azlant."
Alaznist's anger seemed to subside at least a little, and the woman broke away from Xanderghul and sighed. "Yet here you are, after crossing the Thassilon Sea once again. I could not help but notice you are not even wearing a crown."
The showy Runelord of Pride shook his head. "Aroden, the hero of the cult, has ruined everything." he replied, with a bitterness that slightly marred his presumptuous attitude. "He claimed the sword of command for himself. And since then, everything has fallen into chaos."
Xanderghul raised a hand and touched a mural that featured a strange symbol, resembling a seven-pointed star. "Now the empire is being controlled by the veiled masters. In fact, I think that has always been the case." he continued. "And when the succession didn't go as they hoped, they summoned a hail of flaming stones from beyond the sky. They demolished the palace and shattered the throne. They want us to remember our place."
Alaznist frowned and stared at Xanderghul as the Runelord of Pride turned back to her with an elegant swirl of his cloak. "Azlant is dead. Thassilon is soon to follow." he stated. "And you... you have always been my favorite, Alaznist. Let the other Runelords stay here and rot. You and I will save ourselves from the impending storm, and emerge when the destruction is over. It will be then that you will help restore Thassilon to its former glory."
The woman dressed in red did not react, but she was privately seething with anger. Such arrogance, to think that she, Lady Alaznist, Runelord of Wrath, would stoop to being a stooge to someone else, even Lord Xanderghul. But at that moment, it would be a bad idea to act on her rage. With a considerable effort, Alaznist swallowed her venomous words and continued to stare at Xanderghul, who began to vanish with a simple wave of his hand.
"It is time, Alaznist. Enter your runewell. Prepare for a long rest. It will be many, many years before our next meeting." With these words, Xanderghul vanished entirely, leaving Alaznist and her servant alone in the great chamber.
The purple-scaled creature shook its horned head and waved its hand, showing sharp claws the size of billhooks. "We should have killed him while we had the chance, my lady." he thundered.
Alaznist put a hand on the creature's shoulder, its muscles feeling like hardened steel at her touch. "All in due time, my loyal castellan." she replied in a more relaxed tone. "As much of a conceited fool as Xanderghul is, he is right. It is time for me to go. And your job is to guard the fortress until I return. When the thunder has subsided and the smoking ruins of our kingdom have resurfaced, I will return from my runewell to build a new Thassilon."
The woman walked up to a window that overlooked a bleak landscape of ruin and destruction, a land devastated by the fiery stones that incessantly hailed from the lead-hued sky. "Use the Key I gave you to protect the fortress. The new era will need a suitable center of power. Bend the people to your will, and never let them forget the rule of Alaznist, Runelord of Wrath!"
The demon bowed his head. "As you command, o mighty Lady Alaznist." she replied. "How long will you stay in the runewell?"
Alaznist's grim face relaxed into an evil smile. "Don't worry. It shouldn't take more than a few thousand years."
Outside, the meteor shower had intensified, razing everything at the foot of the great mountain... on the side of which stood the wrathful Runelord's sculpted face, staring with cruel contempt at everything that belonged to her.
For now, it was time to go. In time, Thassilon would be reborn, and the whole world would have to bow down to the Runelords once more...
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In another place, at the same time ...
"I figured they would make their move soon enough. To be honest, I'm surprised they didn't do it sooner." the glaive-wielding archmage standing in the center of the great hall remarked, vaguely amused. Dressed quite revealingly, in a sort of red and black leather costume that left little to the imagination, and holding in one hand an impressive pole weapon with a curved blade at each end, the woman reached the center of the great red pentacle etched on the floor, which seemed to flow as if it had been drawn in blood. The two figures standing in the center of the pentacle silently waited for their mistress, and the woman gazed around the room, as if she wanted to imprint that familiar place in her mind before having to leave it for a long time.
"Lord Xanderghul and Lady Alaznist must have already retired to their runewells, mighty Lady Sorshen." said one of the two individuals in the center of the room - an incredibly handsome man who seemed to be in his late twenties, boasting a model's stunning, sculpted physique, wrapped in elegant red robes decorated with golden runes, his bare chest and muscular arms decorated with mystical markings of the same color as the blood that permeated the pentacle... and the walls of the room. "We believe that Lord Karzoug will follow shortly... as for Lord Zutha, Lord Krune and Lady Belimarius, they are also taking the necessary measures."
"The Cenotaph is literally flooded with magical energy." answered the other man, a young man with short black hair dressed in an elegant white silk toga with a pair of golden sandals, silver bracelets on the wrists, and his face and shoulders decorated with small black runes. "Lord Zutha has taken drastic action."
"I understand..." Sorshen, the Runelord of Lust, answered as she thought about the crisis her kingdom was going through. Never before had Thassilon been on the brink of destruction like it was right now. First Azlant, and now them...
The woman shook her head and pulled back her long, elegant black hair with a smooth gesture of her free hand. "I will admit that sharing my findings on the runewells with Xanderghul and the others... was not really my smartest idea. But right now, it would be pointless to regret it. What's done is done." The archmage walked towards an immense stone altar, on which stood a colossal statue that represented her, standing completely nude with just her weapon in hand. With a chilling rumble, a few channels yawned open in the walls as several stone slabs slid to the side, revealing red-encrusted ducts behind them. A moment later, rivers of thick scarlet blood began to flow from the ducts and pour into a great canal that surrounded Sorshen's power center. The scarlet liquid began to glow, bathing the room in a sick crimson glow, and a pungent smell of iron spread everywhere... but neither the woman nor her two attendants seemed disturbed in the least .
Sorshen lowered her arm and turned to her two subordinates, tapping the ground with one of the blades of her polearm. "It is time for me to join my... esteemed colleagues... in our millennial sleep." she stated, her voice tinged with irony. "When Earthfall is over, there will be a lot to rebuild... and I'd rather it be done without undue interference. You already understand what I mean by that... do you not, Kazsethil?"
The woman gave a mischievous and seductive smile to the man dressed in red, and he responded in kind, bowing his head. The long, wavy brown hair framing his face moved slightly as Kazsethil looked into his lady's eyes. "We will perform our duty to the best of our abilities. Solusen and I will make sure that there will be no issue with your return."
Solusen, the man in toga and sandals, nodded in affirmation, as Sorshen temporarily stared into her subordinates' eyes, as if she was trying to read their thoughts without using magic.
"That is satisfactory." the Runelord of Lust answered. "I will leave things in your hands, Kazsethil. I will be counting on you."
"But if you think I trust you completely, you have another thing coming." she added to herself.
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"HEH. FOOLISH HAIRLESS APES. IT'S TOO LATE FOR YOU NOW. YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BY NOW, THAT THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO ESCAPE YOUR SERVITUDE."
The alien mind trapped under countless magical bonds in the impenetrable darkness of the sea depths had still retained some remnants of consciousness. His enormous psychic powers reacted to the events that were ravaging the surface world, sensing every single life that was being snuffed out, their terror and their sense of helplessness in the face of nature turning against them.
For the mighty veiled master Ochymua, high representative of the alghollthu on Golarion and commander of the ulat-kini legions, this devastation was his revenge.
"MY ONLY REGRET IS THAT I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO SEE THE DOWNFALL OF HUMANITY BEFORE I FALL TO THIS TIMELESS SLEEP. FOR SURE, FROM NOW ON NOTHING WILL BE ABLE TO OPPOSE THE ALGHOLLTHU DOMINATION... "
Ochymua was unable to articulate more thoughts, before he sank into a timeless stasis...
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On that day, Earthfall changed life on Golarion forever ...
But the alghollthu had underestimated the human race.
In time, even as the Azlanti were forgotten, humanity would rebuild what was lost ...
The Runelords became nothing but a distant memory shrouded in the mists of time.
The memory of the veiled masters faded from the minds of the surface dwellers ...
Ten thousand years after Earthfall, Golarion was a planet rich in cultures and creatures of all kinds.
But its story was still troubled by wars, enmities and calamities.
With the death of the living god, Aroden, the world entered what was later known the "Age of Lost Omens".
And in this era, Golarion prepares to face an even greater crisis...
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TO BE CONTINUED...
