Iconic Heroes Set 5 is the latest release in the Pathfinder Battles series of pre-painted plastic miniatures from WizKids and Paizo Inc.

Pathfinder Battles: Iconic Heroes Set 5


Iconic Heroes Set 5 includes six all-new miniatures featuring famous personalities from the Pathfinder roleplaying universe: Kess, Oloch, Zadim, Adowyn, Enora and Leryn!  Each of these miniatures is an ALL-NEW sculpt and will feature a dynamic pose, incredible detail and a premium paint job.

MSRP: $34.99
SKU: 71782


Release Date January 2016
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 5


Human Brawler

She was raised to be Lady Kessilandrie Anicia Vlastos, but the thousands of cheering fans that fill the arena’s seats when she fights shout her preferred name—Kess the Bull.

Kess never squared herself with the life of pomp and nobility. As a kid growing up in an estate in the Westpark District of Oppara, she spent her time in opulent gardens, tipping over rocks to look for bugs, climbing the massive oaks, coordinating mock battles against imaginary monsters with her sisters and brothers in the plum orchard, and generally getting into trouble.

It was during these pretend adventures that she started learning how to fight. Her brothers and sisters were snobbish, bullying brats that never left the awkward young girl alone. Never one to just take abuse, Kess ended many of those make-believe bouts in flat-out fistfights. It wasn’t the wooden swords and staves the kids played with that she mastered in these brawls, but rather a solid left jab, a well-placed kick, or a leg sweep. Her height gave her good reach, letting her even get in a good strike at her oldest brother to silence his bullying.

After too many busted lips and bloody noses, Kess’s parents tried to send her to dueling masters in order to teach her the art of swordplay, hoping to channel her energy into a safe and respectable form of combat—something of which nobles could be proud.

As far as Kess was concerned, fencing was for dandies and duels were just tiresome ego dramas. This affluent instruction just didn’t stick. After losing too many matches by dropping her training rapier and socking her opponent in the jaw, she was nearly expelled. An older student, sympathetic to her fighting style, tipped her off to an underground fighting ring in a seedy part of the city.

Her first night in the pit was exhilarating. The organizers paired her up with a brawny farm boy whose jaw jutted out as far as his forehead sloped back. He hit hard, but he didn’t know a thing about technique. Using her skill and rangy frame to her advantage, Kess had him mewling on the ground in less than a minute.

Using the ruse of attending fencing class, Kess made her way to the underground rings every chance she could get. It was there that she discovered real honor—not that bogus social contract she grew up under. In those pit fights, she learned focus and found her calling. The roar of the crowd charged her, and she pushed her body, testing herself.

Kess learned a multitude of styles and forms from the various fighters and promoters that flowed through the ring, as well as the worship of Kurgess, god of bravery, competition, and sports. She also began to dream of bouts in the far-off nations from which many of her colleagues hailed. In particular, she focused on the gladiator nation of Tymon in the River Kingdoms, from which her coach had won a medal.

Yet everything came apart the night her older brother—eager to gamble on the fights—stumbled into the secret venue and noticed her in the ring. Her father was furious, and her mother worried. This was no way for a proper, highborn lady to act. What if she were hurt or killed? What would happen if other families were to find out? Which of them already knew?

For her own safety—and to quash a scandal—her parents threatened to send her off to their country estate, or even to a boarding school. In no way eager to have her destiny decided for her by others, Kess beat her parents to the punch and snuck down to the docks, boarding a Taldan merchant vessel headed up the Sellen River. With her wits, her skill, and a purse bulging with her winnings in the ring, she set off for Tymon. Once there, she fought enough bouts in the arena to get noticed by the masters of the Valknar Gladiatorial College, using the prize money from her Opparan fights to pay for tuition.

Yet Tymon is small, and Kess easily bored. While still one win shy of being considered “bloodied,” she was lured away from the city by the call of new arenas in distant locations, taking up the life of an adventurer not for treasure, but for the fun of it. Every so often, Kess attempts to alleviate some of her mother’s worry by sending letters home telling of her adventures, yet has learned to obscure where they’re sent from, lest her father send agents to track her down and try to bring her home.

Kess wears her bruises and scars as proudly as she wears the medals adorning her outfit—prizes from various fights, as well as a short stint with a mercenary company. Even though she tries to be positive and upbeat, she knows that she’s often aggressive and sarcastic. Kess isn’t afraid to say what’s on her mind, especially when facing authorities who try to tell others what to do. She doesn’t pay much mind to complicated bureaucracies and outdated social mores, and tends to live her life the way she wants. The only time Kess shows a strong respect for rules is during a competition—she doesn’t tolerate cheaters. Kess is competitive, though she encourages others in their own tasks. She keeps her body fit, and trains every chance she gets—a crucial counterbalance to her love of good food, strong drink, and long nights of celebration after a fight.




Half-Orc Warpriest

Oloch has no memory of a time before pain—pain suffered, and pain inflicted. A half-orc of the Haskodar tribe in Blisterwell, Oloch was raised—if it can truly be called that—with the knowledge that his parents had been quarry slaves who died in the ancient mine’s cramped tunnels shortly after his birth. Constantly forced to fight for survival against his larger, stronger tribe-mates, Oloch quickly learned that the best defense is a total lack of fear or restraint. Those who thought to casually bully the child soon learned the error of their ways, for in Oloch’s mind, every fight is a fight to the death, and anyone who pretends otherwise leaves themselves vulnerable.

This fearless ferocity did not go unnoticed. As Oloch reached his teenage years, the tribe’s leaders began harnessing the boy’s abilities. Whether in the gladiatorial pits or in battle against the sometimes-allied One Eye tribe, Oloch shed blood on command—both his own and that of others As his victories mounted, the tribe’s priests of Gorum took control of Oloch’s education, wrapping him in armor and teaching him the glories of the Lord in Iron. In Gorum, Oloch finally found someone he could look up to: a being of perfect strength, without the pathetic fallibilities of even the other battle-priests. More, Gorum looked into Oloch’s heart and put to rest any nagging doubts the half-orc had about his love of violence. He saw the dark thrill Oloch felt as his oversized sword split the spine of an enemy—and rewarded it with magic.

As time went on, Oloch began to chafe at even the meager restrictions placed on him by his orc superiors. Who were they to tell him when and where to fight? And so perhaps it was inevitable that, upon learning the truth of his heritage—that he was no slave child, but rather the stolen son of a human adventurer—he took the chance to sever ties (and limbs) and strike out on his own, taking with him only his favored gear and a description of the fearsome warrior woman who bore him.

Fortunately for Oloch, the legend of a woman brave enough to adventure alone in the Hold of Belkzen—and rumored to tryst unashamedly with orcs—is a hard one to stifle. So it was that he soon found himself standing before the gates of the human settlement of Trunau, calling for its leader, Halgra of the Blackened Blades, to stand forth and meet her son.

To his surprise, she did, and Oloch found himself both shocked and vaguely discomfited by the warmth with which Halgra greeted her lost son, welcoming him into her house. There she told him the story of his birth—how he was the product of a short-lived dalliance with a powerful orc leader she refused to name, and how he had been stolen from her as an infant during a raid on her campsite. She introduced him to his half-siblings, and offered him a place as a defender of Trunau.

Yet a wolf can never be a simple dog, no matter how much it might long to wear the chain. To Halgra’s horror, Oloch’s lust for battle refused to be sated by simple raids and training bouts. Citizens who roused his ire were terribly injured, and in the end Halgra herself had to take up her sword and drive him from the town, announcing that she would always love him as a son—but that he would never again be allowed in Trunau until he learned to control his battle lust and turn his divine abilities toward a positive end.

Frustrated, feeling shamed for the first time in his life, Oloch left Trunau. For a time he wandered the wilds, yet no ordinary beasts could provide a proper challenge—nor remove the lingering suspicion that there might, as Halgra claimed, be more to life than simple bloodshed. Eventually he wound up in Urgir, where he quickly found work as a government enforcer and champion. Though on the surface, he claims that his position ensures him a steady supply of worthy opponents, in secret Oloch hopes that Grask Uldeth’s half-civilized ways will help him puzzle out how to balance the orc and human inside himself and discover the man he was born to be.

Oloch is a quiet, brooding warrior with a disturbing love of violence. Though not actively evil, and scornful of those who pick on obviously weaker opponents, he nevertheless takes it as a given that might makes right, and the whining of those unable to defend their property means little to him. He lives in the moment, relishing the red rush of battle and the communion it brings him with his god. He’s not opposed to working with—or even for—those he considers his equals, but those individuals are few and far between, and must take pains to show him proper respect. Perhaps the only activity other than combat that truly brings him pleasure is making music on his drum—and then only if it’s sufficiently riotous as to echo the clamor of battle.


Human Slayer

Open hostilities between the kingdoms of Taldor and Qadira ceased more than 200 years ago, but subtle squabbles and sub-rosa schemes continue to the present. Often these intrigues take the form of economic influence or political stratagems, but occasionally, when the stakes are high enough, they extend to outright atrocities. Triggering these strikes (or answering them in kind) without sparking an open war requires an agent with particular expertise. An agent like Zadim.

Zadim, the so-called “Shadow of Sarenrae,” travels the lands of the Inner Sea as an associate of Sarenrae’s church, providing deadly solutions to problems the religion cannot resolve through diplomacy and forgiveness. The world of Golarion teems with misguided folk who can be turned from darkness, but it also contains multitudes who are beyond redemption, who revel in evil, wickedness, and selfishness. Zadim is one answer to their depravities, and his response comes with an unmistakable air of finality. Zadim was born into Qadira’s influential Cult of the Dawnflower, a militant sect devoted to rooting out evil and spreading Sarenrae’s light throughout foreign lands cloaked in the darkness of ignorance. His early studies at the great temple in Katheer distinguished Zadim as a dedicated servant of the cult. True, Zadim lacked the divine connection to the goddess that granted many of his fellow cultists command over fabulous magic powers, but his acumen in other affairs soon gained the attention of the cult’s inner circle. Zadim excelled in battle training, easily besting his young peers in combat. He also proved himself an expert in observation and understanding, often taking advantage of personality quirks and tells among his fellows that they weren’t even aware they had. The cult’s leaders knew exactly what they had in Zadim—a weapon to strike killing blows against their enemies.

Zadim’s masters began tempering their stories of Sarenrae’s mercy and redemption with encouragement to bring justice to the irredeemable. They revealed the scope of their designs not just on familiar foes like the creaking “empire” of Taldor to the north, but also on places like Osirion, Katapesh, and Absalom. Zadim was trained to stand in the shadowy vanguard of their efforts throughout the Inner Sea region, clearing away enemies with blade and garrote long before the more visible elements of the Dawnflower Cult made their presence known.

As the depth of the cult’s plan became clear to him, Zadim began to realize that his masters were just as interested in spreading the political influence of Qadira—and its distant puppetmasters in the Padishah Empire of Kelesh far to the east—as they were in spreading the doctrine of the Everlight, but the revelation came too late to inspire a change in Zadim’s direction. He had trained for years to become a killer, and kill he must, in the name of Qadira, Kelesh, or the cult. Sarenrae had blessed him with unique talents, and he intended to put them to use in the field.

Zadim’s first assignment outside Qadira was meant to be easy, a clear-cut case of a true villain deserving of the cult’s final justice. The noble Sir Gordreth Chrysolian—Gordreth the Butcher—had been an administrator in the Taldan caravan city of Yanmass when he publicly executed twenty clerics of Sarenrae about 30 years ago, during a particularly vicious Taldan pogrom against the Cult of the Dawnflower. Shortly thereafter, the Butcher vanished, escaping divine retribution for his unholy crimes. Recently, though, agents of the cult spotted the aging aristocrat in Yanmass, and Zadim was dispatched to put him to the blade.

Upon arriving at the caravan city, Zadim learned from his informants that the Butcher had sought asylum at the manor house of a respected paladin of Abadar named Jevantus, who had gained widespread acclaim in the city after using his god-given abilities to cure hundreds of children infected with the deadly dvezda plague. Further investigation revealed that the paladin Jevantus and Gordreth the Butcher were one and the same man. The decades in hiding must have taught the vile Taldan noble something of chivalry and honor, for Abadar himself blessed the one-time villain with miraculous powers of healing.

A chance encounter with a fellow servant of Sarenrae, an earnest young cleric named Kyra, triggered a crisis of faith in Zadim, and the killer revealed his role in the plot to the young woman. Kyra, who subscribed to a far less militant doctrine than that preached by the Dawnflower Cult, rejected Zadim’s bloody tactics, reminding him that Sarenrae herself valued goodness, redemption, and healing over murderous tactics, no matter the quarry. If Gordreth the Butcher had truly been redeemed, killing him for past deeds meant directly violating the most holy values of Sarenrae, erasing the man’s redemption in an act of bloody murder.

Such an affront, she assured, would be enough for Sarenrae to withdraw her favor from a dedicated follower, stripping away the divine bond so important to the servant’s faith and work. But Zadim was not a cleric, and had no spells to lose. His duty was not just to Sarenrae, but to his masters in the Cult of the Dawnflower, and to Qadira, and to the Padishah Empire of Kelesh. If they decreed that Gordreth the Butcher must die, who was Zadim to deny their wisdom? He assured Kyra that he would not strike against the paladin, but to himself he resolved that he could not make the decision of whether his target would live or die until he could look him in the eye and judge the quality of his character for himself.

That evening, Zadim crept into the private gardens of Jevantus, kukris in hand, his pounding heart nearly giving him away with its thundering. At the center of the garden he discovered the old paladin praying to Abadar before a beautiful fountain. Statues of children rescued from the ravages of disease peered over the paladin’s shoulder as Zadim stepped silently toward his prey. As he approached, the paladin turned toward Zadim, a strange expression of calm and acceptance marked upon his visage. It was as if he had expected such a visitor for many years, and knew that final judgment had finally arrived.

As he looked into the eyes of his quarry at last, fists clenched around the hilts of his hungry blades, Zadim made his choice.


Halfling Arcanist

Like many halflings, Enora has always been driven by an unlikely pairing of curiosity and luck. Her parents, both professors at Manaket’s premier arcane institution, the Occularium, fostered in their only daughter a hunger for knowledge that was rivaled only by her optimism and determination. Perhaps the result of her parents’ own mastery of magic, Enora had always possessed a natural understanding of the mystical inner workings of magic, and combining this with her fastidious research skills and intuition, she quickly rose to the top of her class.

When she came of age, Enora came out atop a pool of nearly a hundred applicants for a coveted governmental position researching some of the Occularium’s most valued magical treasures from the ancient Jistka Imperium. In this role, Enora found the perfect fit for her curiosity, drive, and magical acumen. But years of study of even the most esoteric and enigmatic of Jistkan relics wasn’t enough for Enora, and countless hours in the Occularium’s library aroused in her an uncontrollable sense of wanderlust.

To combat her growing frustration with the limits she felt her job placed upon her ability to uncover lore, and longing to study artifacts beyond just those of the Jistkans, Enora took a leave of absence, intending to perform research abroad on other ancient magical empires. Her request was granted, and she was given a year to learn what she could before returning to continue her work in the Occularium.

Enora’s destination was the ruins of Lirgen—one of the two nations completely subsumed by the Eye of Abendego just over a century earlier—where she hoped to find recently lost information about their mastery of astrology. The journey south along the coast of Rahadoum was uneventful, but the harsh and unforgiving swamps of the Sodden Lands and the less than welcoming inhabitants of the marshes therein provided Enora ample opportunities to use her magical skills merely to survive. The excitement of adventure grabbed the halfling during this journey, and she thought even in the earliest weeks of her sabbatical of how very different the arcane libraries of the Occularium would feel upon her return.

Yet it was a discovery she made in a half-drowned temple dedicated to the magic god Nethys—the worship of whom was forbidden in her homeland—that truly set Enora’s life on a new path. Within the dank and moldering sanctuary, Enora uncovered a stone tablet that radiated a magical aura unlike anything she had ever encountered before, even amid the most powerful of Jistkan artifacts under her charge in the Occularium. Setting her hand upon the arcane writing and reaching forth with her innate arcane abilities, Enora touched the very fabric of the magical energy that pulsed through the artifact, unraveling it ever so slightly to better understand it.

Immediately, her mind was flooded with magical revelations, knowledge beyond her wildest dreams, and a sense of a much vaster world of magical discovery to be explored than she had ever imagined. When she pulled her hand away, as much in shock as in fear of overwhelming her mind, Enora had a new understanding of the potential for learning that existed beyond the strictly secular libraries and laboratories of Rahadoum. A combination of rage and sadness overwhelmed her as she realized that her own rejection of Nethys and other gods of magic had been holding her back from attaining the knowledge she’d always yearned for. How could she return to Manaket and her governmental position knowing that so much more information remained beyond her grasp, simply because it was held in libraries dedicated to deities her nation had shunned?

Enora traveled east into the Mwangi Expanse and found passage down one of the region’s many rivers to the Arcadian Ocean, the entire time assessing her options. Her year of research was quickly drawing to a close, and she had to decide where she would go next. In the end, she wrote to the magistrate who oversaw her work at the Occularium and extended her period of study abroad, then boarded a ship set for Sothis, where she knew one of the largest temples of Nethys to be located.

Enora chose the pursuit of knowledge over the security of the life she’d known, and now lives a life on the edge of two worlds. She works continually through carefully worded letters to maintain her good standing with the Occularium in order to preserve her access to its myriad magical and academic resources, but is afraid to return home, lest her newfound respect for the power of the gods brings punishment upon her head. Now, Enora travels the Inner Sea in search of a better understanding of the inner workings of magic and the secrets of lost empires whose magic surpassed that of even the most powerful modern archmages, utilizing whatever resources she can gain access to, be they religious or secular in nature.

Enora is singularly driven in her search for knowledge, but isn’t above working with others in order to achieve common goals. She remains cheerful and optimistic about most things, yet holds deep-seated anxiety about the conflict she will inevitably face should she return to Manaket and be outed as a follower of Nethys. She doesn’t talk much about where she came from, but knows that one day her travels will take her back to Rahadoum, and she’ll be hard pressed to keep her secret.


Human Hunter

Animal Companion

There’s always a need for a skilled hunter, someone who can track down a threat and put an end to it. And when a quarry is particularly dangerous or elusive, there’s only one hunter the people seek: Adowyn.

Born to a pair of skilled woodworkers in the quiet town of Crowstump on the northern border of Nirmathas, Adowyn was always a wild child, more comfortable sneaking around in the mud chasing the town rooster than practicing her letters or learning to carve. She grew up surrounded by peoples from far-away lands, merchants and traders who had come to make deals with her parents. Fascinated by their stories, Adowyn was eager to see the world beyond, and when a journey with her father finally gave her that chance at the age of 14, she was overjoyed.

That joy was short-lived, however. Not a day after Adowyn and her father left home for the dark forest trails of the Fangwood, a diseased bear charged into their camp, savaging Adowyn’s father before she could even cry out. Using the bow her father had carved for her, she sank arrow after arrow into the beast, tears streaming down her cheeks. At last the bear fell. The creature was dead—but so was her father.

Lost in the woods, Adowyn found herself in the Blight, an area of the Fangwood where the trees grew thick with disease and rot. Worse still, she found that no matter which direction she walked, all paths led back to her meager camp. She spent six months alone there, hunting and scavenging what food she could find and honing her skills at the hunt. The beasts of the Blight were cunning and deadly, and making her the prey nearly as often as she was the predator. Yet all of that changed when she found Leryn.

Wounded by a fight with a rotting treant, the lean gray wolf was limping through a clearing when Adowyn chanced upon him. She knew right away that the wolf was not from this place, but rather was trapped in the Blight like she was. She approached him with a scrap of meat from her most recent kill, earning his trust. Over the following month, she nursed the wolf back to health and named him Leryn, after her father. She soon found that she could sense his mood, knowing instinctively when he was hungry, angry, or excited. They shared much with each other in those first months. She exulted in his feral appetites, his thrill of the hunt, and he learned to calm his urges, gaining her patience and determination.

Years passed, and the two became an inseparable team, learning to anticipate each other’s moves and hunting together as one. Now the whole of the forest was their prey, but still they could not escape the Blight. Indeed, the rot in the wood seemed to be growing worse by the day, and neither hunter could shake the sense of something just beyond their reach, stalking them but never revealing itself.

For months the tension grew. Adowyn and Leryn slept in shifts, keeping watch over their small hovel. Finally, in the dead of night, their mysterious watcher revealed itself, smashing the side of their home while unleashing a terrifying howl. Rolling out of the debris, Adowyn and Leryn rose to face the threat.

A gigantic bear rose up before them. Like the beast that killed her father, this one too was poxed, but it was far larger, with a sickly green foam spilling from its lips. Leryn leapt upon it, clawing and biting at its flank while Adowyn drew forth her bow. Taking aim, she sunk a shaft deep into its left eye. With an agonizing growl, the bear shook loose the wolf and tore off into the woods, with Adowyn and her friend in hot pursuit.

The chase lasted until dawn, when the Leryn’s fangs finally managed to sink into the bear’s throat, bringing it down. The pair stopped over their kill to admire their work, and it was only then that they realized they were no longer in the Blight.

It was by sheer chance that they found their way to Crystalhurst, a community of druids in the southern Fangwood. They stayed there for a while, regaining their strength and sharing what they had learned with the druids, who swore to put an end to the Blight. The druids thought that Adowyn might make a fine disciple for their order, but her bond to Leryn perplexed them, as it was stronger than any they had ever known. In the end, they excitedly concluded that the pair must be something new entirely, and were eager to study them. Yet while Adowyn learned a great deal in her short time there, Crystalhurst was not a place she meant to stay. Soon, she and Leryn set out once more, intent upon returning home to see Adowyn’s mother and sister.

The young woman who returned to Crowstump was nothing like the girl that had left. The townsfolk kept their distance from her and the fierce wolf that padded along behind her. Returning to her home, she found only strangers. It seems that her mother and sister, heartbroken after the loss of Adowyn and her father, had left years ago to start a new life somewhere less troubled by painful memories.

In the years since that day, Adowyn has wandered the Inner Sea with Leryn at her side, working as bounty hunter. She’s stalked a naga through the bleak wastes of Osirion, brought back a master thief from the sewers of Oppara, and even managed to recover the tail feathers of the elusive Jade Hawk without harming the reclusive bird. The only quarry she hasn’t managed to track down is her own family, but that search never ends—one day, she’ll be reunited with her loved ones.

Adowyn is never found without Leryn by her side. To others, she is quiet and brooding, but she can frequently be found having animated conversations with her wolf, as if he were responding in kind. She wears the armor and garb of the rangers of Nirmathas, a gift she was given after hunting down a patrol of Molthuni regulars that were stalking behind the lines terrorizing small villages. The bow she carries is her father’s, a weapon she treats with reverence. In battle, Adowyn and Leryn single out their foes with grim determination.

Adowyn and Leryn