"Will it make me go mad?"

"No, I can surround the lead in something and it's much easier to tell if a hat has suffered some kind of structural damage than if a skull lining has, plus lead isn't going to give off fumes or seep through your hair, it's not mercury."

" - I've really got to get that truth spell. Not now, maybe later, in the meantime I'll just stay in the shuttle which hasn't driven me mad." 

"Sounds like a plan." He moonhops over to the shuttle.

Meanwhile, on a demiplane adjacent to Golarion, upon a cushioned throne in the midst of unparalleled luxuries, Razmir, Living God of Razmiran, survivor of a lost age, possessor of techniques lost even to the elder races, greatest archmage in Avistan when he happens to be in Avistan yes even when Felandriel Morgethai also happens to be in Avistan - is staring at a potato.

This potato displeases him. It appears, so far as he can tell, to be an ordinary potato in almost every way, which is really quite bizarre, since according to his truly extraordinary magical senses it is: Not magical in the slightest, before or after false auras have been dispelled. Of a species of potato that did not exist in the world yesterday. And precisely identical down to the molecular level to the other potato he stole.

The note around the potato, read of course through Comprehend Languages, is worse.

To whom it may concern:

I am limited in my communication options at this time and hope this makes its way to the right people, whoever they may be. I am an unprecedented variety of outsider called an apsel with the ability to make persistent arbitrary material objects at a nearly unlimited rate, including those inspired by a technological level much higher than that achieved on Golarion, including spellsilver and diamonds. I have been summoned and am somewhat constrained by a Chelish wizard who is mostly willing to cooperate with me towards shared ends such as addressing the Worldwound but I hope to orient myself to the situation enough to accomplish more than that. I can receive any correspondence marked 'letter to Cam' advising me further on things I should read, places I should go, lines of argument I should try on my summoner, &c. On the advice of Kofusachi, who I successfully reached briefly via prayer, I have sent copies of this letter to you in Vigil and also to Sothis. I await replies from whoever fields this sort of thing there.

Sincerely, Cam

This might, in fact, be something that gives the Living God hope, except that Apsels are bullshit. They don't exist. They have never existed. Yes, yes, 'unprecedented,' Lissala's ascendant ass, Razmir is the most learned person to visit Golarion since the death of Aroden, and in the opinion of Razmir, this entire potato thing is bullshit.

On the other hand.

This is a note written by someone with the power to create two molecularly identical nonmagical potatoes.

Razmir hates casting Vision, but nonetheless, he does leave seventh-circle slots free, for this purpose among others. He prepares the spell, does his customary animal sacrifice (a rat), returns to his comfiest chair, and, armed with nothing except the knowledge that some pain-in-his-neck named Cam wrote this note and made these potatoes, attempts to directly suck all legends of Cam directly into his perpetually-dissatisfied brain.

Visions of steel cities rising out of a desert - moons where there were no moons, a steel capsule accelerating - 

- A woman in strange dress on a flickering screen like a scrying mirror, sketching a circle with chalk on a street below - a creature flickering into existence - 

- A bitter old man drawing a circle, and superimposed over his body is a black-armored figure with draping wings - and one more and ten more and a thousand more - a steel colossus roaring flame from its base and then ten thousand more - pages turning and a book drawn - 

All to the sound of violin music.

OW.

Razmir is EXHAUSTED.

He taps himself with a Wand of Lesser Restoration. That helps.

... All right, fine. Razmir is not just made out of spite over the state of the universe. There's also some naked greed, in there. (Out of all the gods of Good, it is Kofusachi with whom he is most aligned.)

Time to start writing.

Cam is piloting the shuttle down from the moon to the general ballpark of Felandriel Morgethai and also listening to the Atriama soundtrack (2108 production) but he does find time to conjure for his mail on the way.

Letter to Cam:

Greetings, fellow person from a functioning civilization, trapped in a world of perpetually warring, perpetually starving imbeciles bent on destroying themselves as quickly as possible and causing as much collateral damage as they can before they go!

I am Razmir, living god of Razmiran and ninth-circle archmage, and I am interested in engaging in a mutually beneficial exchange of unmatched arcane power for vast quantities of arbitrary persistent material items suitable to bring massive luxury, prosperity, and immortality to myself and my realm. As every other sane person in Golarion does, I desire vast quantities of material objects; unlike almost every other sane person in Golarion, I can provide ninth-circle wizardry, terrifyingly powerful magical items, and practical protection against attempts to destroy you or your wizard in exchange for it. As I am Lawful, I keep deals I agree to, and as My domain is luxury, I share Kofusachi's interest in enriching this universe, if admittedly chiefly so that I can enrich myself.

Further communications can be directed by sending to or creation of potato-wrapped notes in the pocket of Myself or, should you prefer, Telriana Lebethron, the chief Good person in my employ.

Razmir, Living God of Razmiran, Sovereign of Melcat, Thorvyn, Gifhorn and Kodrigrad, Ascendant of the Thirty-First Step.

Holy shit, this is so high fantasy novel and Cam is wagging slightly uncontrollably about it. It was pretty high fantasy novel already but god-kings sending him trade offers is much moreso than just taking a shuttle to the moon which is very pedestrian.

Hellish research auxiliaries, what've we got on Razmir(an)?

They're pretty sure he's not a god, for one thing. No one outside his country thinks he's a god. In his country it's illegal to say he isn't a god. His country seems...bad, in their very preliminary investigation, most writing about it is from people in Galt debating whether to conquer it or people in Cheliax debating whether to provoke Galt into trying conquering it but it seems to have been tremendously mismanaged in every respect, to have a shrinking population, to be run on fear and tyranny, etcetera etcetera.

Razmir himself...seems to be very old? Some of these writings date back thousands of years? Ten thousand years ago he wrote...grocery lists, and filled out paperwork, and that's pretty much it, and then he did nothing for ten thousand years, and then starting somewhat recently there's lots more written material in the increasingly grandiose style of the sort of person who might declare themselves a god while not actually being a god.

Carissa notices the wagging but does not say anything about it. 

He will ask her what her feelings about Razmir(an) are after she has been Mind Blanked. Can they conjure for what he was doing while he did nothing? Was he frozen in a glacier or turned to stone or what?

He was totally unmoving in some kind of presumably magical tube thingy? (Conjuring it required replacing bits of it that didn't conjure with plastic.) He didn't seem to age while he was in it, but did at a large fraction of the normal human rate both before and afterwards.

Huh. How'd he get in and out of it?

In: Someone put him in while he was unconscious.

Out: The magic apparently just stopped working, nobody's figured out why. (Leading theories are "ran out of batteries" and one demon who insists that an earthquake around that time caused it.)

Gosh. What an interesting backstory this god-king has.

Mind Blank first. "We're nearly close enough for me to drone a message to Ms. Morgethai," he tells Carissa.

She nods tensely. This means they're also nearly close enough for people to get to them.

"What do you want to write her?"

"This is Carissa Sevar. I'm a fourth-circle wizard who unexpectedly acquired an extremely powerful summons who can make spell components at will. I'll pay you for Mind Blank, right now and probably regularly, and if I don't die I think I can close the Worldwound inside five years. I don't control him, and if you Dominate me he has instructions to give Cheliax the diamonds to burn Andoran to the ground. 

If you're interested go to the moon, we'll meet you there."

"You want to go all the way back to the moon? Also it's an entire moon, how do you propose to narrow it down?"

"Won't you be able to find her with conjuring? And I want to be on the Moon so it's harder to kill me!"

"I guess if you want me to binary search the moon I can find her that way, fine." He writes up the letter and displays it on the screen in case she wants to make any last-minute changes. "You have to let me make the drone, it'll be just like the mirror one."

"You can make a drone identical to the drone you made earlier."

He "prints" the note and gives it to the drone and turns it loose, piloting it in a search pattern to find Felandriel Morgethai.