Iconic Heroes is the latest release in the Pathfinder Battles series of pre-painted plastic miniatures from WizKids and Paizo Inc.

Pathfinder Battles: Iconic Heroes Set 2


Iconic Heroes Set 2 includes six all-new miniatures featuring legendary characters from the Pathfinder roleplaying universe: Amiri, KyraEzrenMerisielHarsk, and Biter!  Each of these miniatures is an ALL-NEW sculpt and will feature a dynamic pose, incredible detail and a premium paint job.

MSRP: $29.99
SKU: 71779


Release Date April 2015
Game Time 2+ Hrs
Ages 14+

Each Iconic Heroes Set also includes EXCLUSIVE “Boon Cards” (one for each miniature) for use in the Pathfinder Adventure Card Game! These special Boon Cards are only available in this Pathfinder Battles product!

Pathfinder Adventure Card Game Exclusive

All Characters – Set 2


Human Barbarian

There are a million ways to die in the Realm of the Mammoth Lords. The natives of this brutal land are the nomadic Kellids, and they have made the best of this primal world. Amiri is one of these barbarians. Although she was blessed with a combination of independence and brawn, Amiri’s childhood remained one of constant challenge. To the people of her tribe, the Six Bears, brawn and bravery were not ideal characteristics for a woman to have. To the Six Bears, a woman’s role was simple—raise children, tend to the sick, and forge bonds with other tribes. Women were resources. When a tribe wished to form an alliance, they would send gifts of meat, furs, treasure, and daughters. Amiri didn’t see herself as livestock, and every chance she got, she tried to one-up her brothers and cousins. When a hunter went out and caught a caribou for the tribe, she would go out and catch two. When a party of orc raiders stumbled into their hunting grounds and a tribal hero killed four, she took it upon herself to kill six. Her constant sense of competition made her few friends—her brothers were both intimidated by her ferocity and enthralled by her beauty, while her sisters knew that each time she went against tradition, they would all be punished.

When Amiri finally came of age, her reputation had spread beyond the Six Bears. The other tribes took to calling her the “Soft Chieftain” of the Six Bears, a name that humiliated her almost as much as it did her kin, inferring that they were weak for allowing one of their women to grow so independent and strong. None of the other tribes wanted any part of her—her continued presence among the Six Bears caused much strife between once friendly tribes, and so the elders determined that there was but one choice—Amiri had to die. The only problem was the commonly held belief that murder of one’s kin was the greatest taboo and the surest path to Hell.

The opportunity to be rid of their troublesome sister rose soon enough, when word came of a tribe of frost giants who had been sighted in the nearby mountains. The elders organized a warband to scout the mountains and to drive back the giants, and they made sure that Amiri was included in the band. Shocked but proud to have finally been chosen, Amiri didn’t notice how the elders smiled at her eagerness to be on her way. The elders knew that Amiri’s sense of competition would swiftly get her in over her head, and in secret tasked the rest of the hunters to goad her into just such a situation.

The warband headed up into the Kodar foothills, and it wasn’t long before they found evidence of giants. One morning, the leader of the band rushed into camp, waving a dagger the size of a man’s arm over his head. The warrior claimed to have single-handedly slain a giant and to have taken his dagger, and the others in the band congratulated him on his skill and bravery. Amiri took the bait, and announced that she would return by sundown with an even greater weapon. She could have no way of knowing that the dagger was part of the deception—that the warband had brought it with them as a prop to incite her into a foolish plan.

What the warband themselves didn’t anticipate was that Amiri would find a frost giant. After wandering the mountains, she came to an immense body at the foot of a cliff—the giant had fallen to his death weeks before, and at his side lay his immense bastard sword. Although Amiri knew that she had not killed the giant, she also knew that all she needed was his sword as proof—certainly her kin wouldn’t think to dispute her claim with such a grand trophy. Yet when she returned to the place she had left her kin, she found the camp empty. Concerned, worried that they had fallen victim to the region’s dangers, she tracked them, catching up with the warband halfway back to the tribal camp. As she approached the camp, though, she realized something was amiss—they were talking of her, and they were laughing.

Creeping unseen to the edge of the camp, she realized that she had been duped. She heard her kin mocking her ways, of how she had fallen for their ruse, and how even now she was likely cooking in a giant’s stewpot. That they seemed grateful and so at ease with her death was not what enraged Amiri. It was the proof that her own people thought of her as a fool that did it. Eyes blazing, Amiri stepped into the camp and held her new sword out, proclaiming that even now she had bested them. The other warriors, shocked to see her alive, quickly fell back to laughter, pointing out that she could hardly wield such an ungainly weapon. Her fury growing, Amiri hefted the weapon and tried to adopt a menacing pose, but the weapon’s size threw her off balance and she toppled over, much to the other barbarian’s growing amusement.

It was enough. With a roar, Amiri leapt back to her feet. Her rage filled her body, clouded her vision, stole over her soul. Two of the barbarians had been decapitated by her immense sword before they realized that death had come. The battle was swift and brutal, with Amiri not noticing the blows that landed on her, simply stepping from one traitor to the next and cutting them down.

When her rage finally subsided, Amiri realized what she had done. She knew that the hunters had certainly deserved their fates, but they were still kin. That her reasons for murdering them were, to her, valid didn’t change the ties of blood. She knew that she had cut those ties, and so she turned her back on the remains, trusting that they would be discovered by another hunting party soon enough. As she headed west into the lands of Irrisen and the unknown reaches beyond, her heart was for the first time free—no longer was her future tied to traditions that would constrain her. She has come to value her oversized sword, and even though she can only truly wield it properly when her blood rage takes her, it has become as much a part of her as her fierce independence or her fiery heart. She no longer sees herself as a member of the Six Bears, but never speaks of the circumstances that forced her to flee her homeland. Some things are better left unsaid.



Human Cleric

The priests of Sarenrae lead double lives. Known to her faithful as the Dawnflower, the Healing Flame, and the Everlight, she teaches temperance and patience in all things. Compassion and peace are her greatest virtues, and if enemies of the faith can be redeemed, they should be. Yet there are those who have no interest in redemption, who glory in slaughter and death. From the remorseless evil of the undead and fiends to the cruelties born in the hearts of mortals, Sarenrae’s doctrines preach swift justice delivered by the scimitar’s edge. To this end, she expects her faithful to be skilled at swordplay, both as a form of martial arts promoting centering of mind and body, and so that when they do enter battle, their foes do not suffer any longer than necessary.

Her priests are often categorized into these two camps—those who favor redemption as a method to defeat the enemy, and those who favor the blade. Kyra is certainly one of the latter. Born in a small farming town to loving parents, Kyra grew up in the shadow of one of the Dawnflower’s shrines. She was taken at a young age with the beauty of the shrine’s stained glass, and the grace of the three priestesses who practiced swordplay on the nearby hill each dawn as they offered their morning prayers. When bandits attacked her small town, Kyra watched as the priestesses did their best to reason with them—and when that came to naught, to end them before they could do more damage. Unfortunately, the bandits were too strong, and the village burned. Kyra was one of the few survivors, and on the smoking ruins of the shrine she swore her life and sword arm to Sarenrae, swore to protect those who could not protect themselves and to not spare the blade when the time for redemption passes.

Possessed of a fierce will and pride in her faith and skills with the scimitar, Kyra has traveled far since her trial by fire. She lost her family and home that fateful day, yet where another might be consumed by anger and a thirst for revenge, Kyra has found peace in the Everlight, and in the belief that, if she can prevent even one death at evil hands, her own losses will not have been in vain.


Human Wizard

For many adventurers, wanderlust strikes at a young age when minds are impressionable and the urge to escape the doldrums of homelife become too much to resist. In other cases, there’s never a choice at all—being raised on the streets leaves few other options available for those who do not wish to become criminals. Rarest are those who come to adventuring late in life.

This was Ezren’s path to adventure. Born to a successful spice merchant in one of Absalom’s more affluent districts, Ezren’s childhood was pleasantly safe. As the fourth of six siblings, he never knew the responsibility implicit in being the eldest (and therefore the one expected to carry on father’s trade) or the freedom of being the youngest. He enjoyed the comforts of a well-to-do family, lived in a neighborhood relatively safe from crime, and seemed poised for a life of mediocrity.

That changed when his father was taken away, charged with heresy by the church of Abadar. The charges were too spurious to stick, and while his father escaped excommunication, the damage had been done—his father’s business fell to pieces. Shocked, dismayed, and convinced that his father was innocent, Ezren abandoned his future and spent his adult life trying to repair his father’s ruined reputation. So when Ezren finally uncovered irrefutable proof of his father’s guilt, and he realized he’d wasted his life on a lie, he turned his evidence over to the church and said goodbye to his home, his family, and his life.

At the age of 42, Ezren is full aware that he’s missed his adulthood, yet at the same time he looks forward to discovering the world, and making a difference for a cause that he believes in. His dissatisfaction with family, religion, and government left him precious little to trust but his own intellect—in fighting for his father’s redemption, he had become a gifted researcher, scholar, and intellectual. Lacking the spry limbs of youth, the trust in religion, the strong arm of the soldier, or the way with words of the politician, Ezren felt he had but one option open. He traveled to tarnished Oppara, capital of Taldor and one of the oldest cities of the continent of Avistan, hoping to join one of several prestigious schools of wizardry. Yet time and time again, he was turned away due to his age. No wizard seemed to want an apprentice who, in many cases, was older than them. So Ezren was forced to strike out on his own once again.

Over the next decade, as he traveled Avistan, Ezren studied where he could, picking up tricks of the wizard’s trade here and there. The combination of arcane study mixed with his worldly first-hand experiences have given him an edge over young wizards fresh out of apprenticeship and eager to make names for themselves. Ezren knows about the many ways the world can trick and betray you, but now he’s finally begun to master the art of magic, giving him the tools to fight back.


Elf Rogue

The elves have a name for elven children unfortunate enough to be born and raised in human society—the Forlorn. Merisiel is one of these, born in the Varisian city of Magnimar to elven parents who were either unable or unwilling to raise a child on their own. Merisiel never learned the truth of it, for her parents left her in the care of the city’s temple to Calistria. The priests raised Merisiel as a ward of the temple, but she had little patience for teachers and prayer. Eventually, she left the temple and spent many years on the streets of Magnimar, earning a living as a freelance thief. When her growing reputation as a thief became inconvenient, she decided to leave her home city to seek out new settlements to explore and enjoy.

Merisiel became a master at stowing away on ships, talking her way out of trouble, and finding her way in new societies. She’s called dozens of cities home, leaving one for another when her companions outgrew her or she outlived them. Life has been hard for Merisiel, made more so by the fact that she’s always found it difficult to master skills that come easily to her companions. Faced often with situations where a quick tongue or stealth won’t suffice to keep her out of trouble, Merisiel has taken to carrying dozen knives. When things go wrong with her carefully laid plans (as they almost always seem to do), the knives come out and what needs to be done gets done. To date, Merisiel hasn’t met a problem that can’t, in one way or another, be solved with a blade.

Each of the cities she’s spent time in carries special memories for Merisiel. In cosmopolitan Kintargo, she fell in love for the first five times, but only the last of those relationships survives to this day. In bustling Corentyn, she spent five years in prison for a crime she wasn’t able to pin on someone more deserving, a sentence exceeded by her stay in Almas (still her record—ten years in jail). In Cassomir she helped rob a corrupt jeweler, in Oppara a decadent and cruel magistrate, and in Sothis a narrow- minded priest of Abadar. Yet in each of these cases her companions betrayed her and left her penniless. She spent many years in Katapesh and Absalom, but the size of these cities eventually grew to be too much even for her. Recently, she’s come home to Magnimar with a new purpose in life. Finally matured to the point where she’s willing (and perhaps able) to learn from her mistakes, she hopes to make something more of her life than merely bad decisions laced with periodic bouts of excitement and fun.

Merisiel’s life experiences have taught her to enjoy things to their fullest as they occur—it’s impossible to tell when the good times might end. She’s open and expressive, always on the move and working on her latest batch of plots to make easy money. In the end, it comes down to being faster than everyone else—either on her feet or with her beloved blades. She wouldn’t have it any other way.


Dwarf Ranger

Not all dwarves are meant for the mines. As a young dwarf, Harsk spent every spare moment outdoors under the wide skies of southeastern Varisia, particularly at night beneath the stars, where his keen vision made him a hunter without compare. While generally uninterested in his family’s traditional smithing, he still inherited enough of their tinkering ability to construct his own crossbow, a heavy, highly accurate weapon that few others are able to wind. Eschewing the company of his fellows, few things made Harsk happier than crouching in a tree stand with his bow, listening to the wind through the forest leaves and waiting for deer or larger prey to wander by.

That all changed twenty years ago, when his elder brother, a fine captain named Sigur, led a dwarven war band from Janderhoff against a small party of giants that had descended from the Mindspin Mountains to raid and pillage. Out of affection, Sigur offered his less-experienced sibling the chance to come and prove himself as Sigur’s chief scout and second-in-command. Calm and peaceful by nature, Harsk turned him down, failing to see the honor his brother was doing him until several days after the company had departed. Traveling light and fast, Harsk caught up with his brother quickly—but not quickly enough. Misjudging the size and skill of the raiding party, Sigur led his band into an ambush, where it was slaughtered to the last dwarf.

With his brother’s blood still fresh on his hands, Harsk went mad with rage. That night, he stalked through the giants’ camp like a vengeful wraith, slaughtering giant after giant with his crossbow before melting back into the forest, only to reappear elsewhere and take another victim. When the last giant was left gurgling in the dust, Harsk took up his brother’s axe and slipped off into the trees, vowing to forever be the voice of justice in the wild places, to keep balance and prevent the sacrifices of noble men like his brother.

Harsk, like many of his kind, is gruff and taciturn, but there ends most of his connection to dwarven society. Something of a loner, he prefers to spend his time outdoors, communing with nature, though he occasionally travels alongside others whose goals match his own. Uninterested in the beer and ale that so characterize dwarves in the minds of human society, Harsk instead drinks pot after pot of strong tea to keep his senses sharp. While he never lets his brother’s axe out of his sight, he wields it only as a last resort, knowing that his true skills lie in the hunt and striking from darkness.

Lini and Droogami


Prickly, stubborn, and absolutely fearless, Biter the badger makes the perfect companion for Harsk, keeping the gruff dwarf company on their long silent treks through the countryside. While neither of them is much for displays of affection, Biter is the closest thing Harsk has to a best friend, and each would give his life to defend the other.