Monthly Archives: August 2015

The Merchant and the Afrit

Tomas looked at the Afrit, though his eyes burned to do so, like staring direct at the great Sun in the sky above. “You shall serve me, you say? You can make all that I desire, all that I wish manifest?”

“I can do as you command, to the extent of my powers.”

“You can make me a King then?”

“I could, though not with such a command. I cannot simply snap my fingers and make it so. I am powerful, old and ancient, but even my power has limits, and I do not trouble my mind to search for methods for mortals. You must command me to a task, not a desire. You say ‘make me a king?’ This is not a task. You tell me to kill a specific king perhaps? This I could do. Or you tell me to take you here or there, to bring you this or that, to do battle with him or her.”

“I could command you, then to bring me a thousand gold coins? Or a million?”

“If you did not care from where they came, yes. Though I will surely get them from someplace that suits my liking. Perhaps a sultan with three million coins to his name finds one million missing. Perhaps they bear his mark.”

“Then I could tell you to kill him.”

“You could. I would. Then you would have a million gold coins and a dead sultan. Perhaps his heir would forgive you that.”

“I could have you kill the heir.”

“You could. I’ve destroyed whole lineages of kings for masters in the past. Chopped down families and clans from wizened grand uncles to squalling babes, to babes yet unborn mere quickenings within a mother’s womb.”

“No. No, I think I should not like to order such a massacre.”

“Perhaps you do not truly desire a million gold coins then. Or to be a king.”

“You have told me you can carry and can kill, but what else can you do? What magics are at your command?”

“The magic of the Afrit, mortal. You know of us. Our magic is smoke and fire and flame and ash. We are the king of Jinn.”

“I know the stories, yes, I know the stories. In them the Afrit carried magic swords that spit fire as they slashed. You could make one for me?”

“I can lay in the enchantments, call out the flame in the blade, and set it ablaze, but I am no swordsmith.”

“My blade then? My falchion? You could transform it to one of these?”

“If you so command.”

“Yes, I do. Afrit, make my falchion into a great fire weapon as your kind carried in the tales of old.”

The Afrit held out his hand, and the falchion flew to it. He examined the blade for a minute, then his hand ignited into a white hot flame. He ran his hands down the length of the blade, the rust and wear scouring away at the merest touch. A solemn chant in an ancient tongue Tomas had never heard before flowed out of his mouth.

The blade began to glow, white hot. As the Afrit continued chanting, continued rubbing the sword it ignited in flame, burning bright and hot. The Afrit gripped it by the hilt and tested three quick swings, lofting it in circles in a single fist as easily as Tomas himself might swing a much smaller, lighter blade. Then he passed his hand across the blade and quenched the flame.

The Afrit offered the blade up to Tomas who took it tentatively. He examined it now, restored to its new forged brilliance and beyond, a series of scrolling runes running its length, its steel nearly looking silver. He tested it in a swing—still too heavy to hold one handed as the Afrit had done, but lighter to swing, swifter yet Tomas could tell no less powerful for it. He imitated the Afrit’s motion of passing his hand across the blade and nearly dropped it when the flame lit anew.

Tomas was awed by it. So long as he held the hilt of the blade the flame did not hurt him, he could not feel the heat at all. He passed his hand across again and the flame winked off then back on again. “A marvelous wonder indeed,” the fat Pitr muttered, his seaweed-like whiskers shaking as he nodded his head.

“A merest trifling trinket of my power,” the Afrit replied.

Tomas stood tall now, setting aside the newly enchanted blade. He looked the Afrit in its burning orange eyes, locking his own to its. They looked like fire and ocean set against each other there, the Afrit magenta and burgundy with flames of orange and red and Tomas with his blue skin, green hair and pearl teeth. “If you are so powerful that this is but a trinket to you how is it you came to be trapped in this iron ring?” Tomas asked.

The Afrit eyed him warily, “I could tell you the tale. . . If you so command.”

“I do,” Tomas replied.


Centaur Codex: Emissary of Prophecy

Looking like a pale centaur with flowing golden locks, and eyes brilliant gold. White fur covers its bottom half, and a set of white feathered wings sprouting from its shoulders.


XP 4,800

LG Large outsider (Angel, Lawful, Good)

Init +1; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision; Perception +11

Aura protective aura


AC 21, touch 11, flat-footed 18 (+4 armor, +6 natural, +2 dex,–1 size; +4 deflection vs. evil)

hp 85 (10d10+30)

Fort +10, Ref +5, Will +9; +4 vs. poison, +4 resistance vs. evil

DR 5/ evil Immune acid, cold, petrification; Resist electricity 10, fire 10; SR 19


Speed 50 ft., fly 80 ft. (good)

Melee +1 axiomatic spear +16 (1d8+6/×3; +2d6 vs. chaotic),

Ranged +1 returning javelin +13 (1d6+5)

Full Attack +1 axiomatic spear +14/+8 (1d8+6×3; +2d6 vs. chaotic), 2 hooves +11 (1d6+3), +1 returning javelin +9 (1d6+3)

Space 10 ft., Reach 5 ft.

Spell-Like Abilities (CL 6th)

At will— anticipate thoughts, augury

3/day— anticipate thoughts (quickened), cure light wounds, divination, hypercognition

1/day— commune, cure moderate wounds, dream council. flamestrike (6d6; ref DC 17)


Str 20, Dex 15, Con 16, Int 11, Wis 14, Cha 16

Base Atk +10; CMB +16; CMD 18 (22 vs. trip)

Feats Battle Cry, Critical Focus, Death from Above, Third Eye, Two Weapon Fighting

Skills Diplomacy +12, Fly +11, Heal +11, Knowledge (Planes) +9, Knowledge (Religion) +9, Perception +11, Perform (Oratory) +12, Sense Motive +11, Stealth +11, Survival +11

Languages Common, Elven, Sylvan, truspeech

SQ divine psychic, undersized weapons


Environment any (heaven or nirvana)

Organization solitary, pair, or phalanx (5)

Treasure double (+1 axiomatic spear, +1 returning javelin, other treasure)


Divine Psychic (Su) Emissaries of Prophecy’ spell-like abilities are both divine and psychic in origin. For all purposes treat them as being able to cast psychic and divine magic.

Undersized Weapons (Ex) although an Emissary of Prophecy is Large, its upper torso is the same size as that of a Medium humanoid. As a result, they wield weapons as if they were one size category smaller than their actual size (Medium for most centaurs).

Emissaries of Prophecy are the Angelic servants of Pacifa, the God of Prophecy, Lord of All Things Yet To Come. Looking like centaurs whose forms combine an angel with a Pegasus. Made long ago by divine whim, the Emissaries are creatures of law and prophecy, congregating in Pacifa’s realms on heaven near the border of nirvana. Sent to guide mortal prophets, particularly centaurs whose shamans revere him. While not the most powerful of the angelic hosts, the Emissaries can use their powerful psychic and divine powers to guide the mortals they are sent to serve. Their preferred tactics are to visit their charges in their dreams at first, waiting till the prophets have revealed themselves as true mouthpieces of the divine before manifesting to serve them directly. Centaurs of lawful good and lawful neutral alignments may add Emissaries of Prophecy to the summon monster VI list.

This post contains Pathfinder Compatible material.