Introduced all the way back in “The Skinsaw Murders” (that’s
Pathfinder #2 for you all keeping
track), lyrakien look like pixies or sprites, but are actually butterfly-winged
azatas. Unless called by the
Improved Familiar Feat, glistenwings will typically be encountered by travelers
(making them a good excuse to deliver clues or plot hooks, as the Bestiary 2 notes). They might also be PCs’ first exposure
to the plots of the azatas, and are a good way to give the party bard, gnome,
or halfling some more screen time during an otherwise combat-heavy adventure.
Listeners passing
near Stone Giant Head will be challenged by a chirping disembodied
voice. Those who can answer the
voice’s three questions will find their way speeded and minor wounds cured. Those who are rude or evil will be left dazed or confused and
drawn along a path full of ankle-turning loose scree. Those who sing for the voice will find that Stone Giant Head
conceals a pass that will cut travel time along the mountain by a day.
Three groups of lyrakien
frequent Birch Vale. The Chapel
of the Lost, site of a halfling champion’s death, is always guarded by a band
of glistenwings (though never the same one from month to month). The Merry Jugglers juggle acorns and
rocks for coins in the market of Ilim, just outside the Temple of the Triumphant
Crusader. (This is not a
coincidence; the temple serves lawful evil worshippers of a deity of nobility,
glory in war, and servants’ submission, and the light-hearted lyrakien are
spies.) The blue-winged Midnight
Monarchs are a full company of 24 azatas that migrate like their butterfly
eponyms (albeit only at night).
They are notorious for unleashing their starlight blasts with little
provocation.
After the death of
his beloved cat familiar in what he swore would be his last quest, the
abjurer Cosby Fanshaw fully expected to call another familiar in keeping with
his specialization—another cautious cat perhaps, or a toad or hedgehog. Instead he received the surprise of his
life: a lyrakien named Aphra who is outgoing, risk-taking, garrulous, and
generally everything the abjurer is not.
Cosby is stunned to discover himself adventuring again (at Aphra’s
urging). She meanwhile has not
revealed if what greater purpose, if any, drew her to Cosby. She has also not revealed to anyone but
her dryad confidante that she has fallen in love with shy, magic-circle-crafting
mage—new emotions that delight and embarrass her to no end.
—Pathfinder 2
58–59 & Pathfinder Bestiary 2 38
The aforementioned Pathfinder
issue has more on lyrakien, particularly their connection to Desna.
Lyrakien look like faeries but aren’t. Which raises the whole question of
faeries in general. The typical
line is that fey (at least the original/elder ones) are somewhat outside the
cosmological order—spirits from another age or reality (such as Golarion’s First
World), or angels or even Immortals (as suggested in D&D’s Known World
setting), who sat out of some great war between the celestial and infernal
planes, etc. Often these fey are
depicted as not having gods or clerics and are reluctant to enter holy ground
or touch holy water. (This may
also be what separates fey from elves and gnomes—at some point they entered the
cycles of being and mortality in some fashion while the fey stood apart.)
But the nature of fey is also somewhat porous—sometimes fey
are also spirits of trees, the land, or gateways; sometimes they have ties to
the Elemental Planes; and sometimes mortals can reincarnate as fey when
conditions are right. And for every
supplement that says the above, the next one that comes out starts listing
stats and clerical domains for powers like Rhiannon, Oberon and Titania, Queen
Mab, etc.
In my head, I’m keeping them separate, but as usual, you can
do whatever you like. If you want
lyrakien to be a kind of heavenly fey, or serve as a link tying fey to the
azatas, go right ahead.
No comments:
Post a Comment