Pit Fiend (Tyrant Devil)

Looking at the Pit Fiend, one could mistakenly take this particular devil for a brutish type whose only trick is whacking the party with its giant claws. Don't get the wrong idea, it decidedly can (and will) crush you if you get too close, but this is not where it shines.

To start things off, the pit fiend has an impressive array of spells at its disposal, all high level, many of which can be cast at will (like bind soul or divine decree). But, believe it or not, they are not the most impressive tool in that devil's arsenal.

A pit fiend has one singular ability that caught my attention and elevated it to a "campaign level threat" status for me—Devil Shaping. Yep, the Pit Fiend can create devils out of the souls of damned mortals. Devils all the way up to level 20, mind you. It may choose not to, given that any Pit Fiend it creates will not be bound to it, as opposed to lesser devils, however, I ask you to bear with me here.

Devils are lawful, which makes them somewhat amiable towards negotiation. So, let's say a Pit Fiend creates another one in the span of ten days, then convinces it to join it. After another ten days, you have four. Then eight. Within the span of a month, you have eight level-20 fiends. A party of four can easily take a single Pit Fiend. Two might be a challenge, but they should still prevail. Four might be deadly. Eight edges on impossible. Sixteen? You straight-up want to kill your party. And, keep in mind, as long as there are souls to feed to the infernal furnace, the creation of more and more devils can continue.

And let's be realistic, there's no shortage of mortal souls down in Hell.

- Max

Hook 1 (Max) - The Sculptor

In Hell, souls are a currency, and those who can use it quickly rise in the infernal ranks. None are, however, more valued than the devils capable of molding the spirits of mortals into more powerful forms. Prime among them is the Sculptor, a true artist in the field, sought out by all fiendish overlords to boost the strength of their legions with servants.

He lives in a tower made of living, moaning flesh, surrounded by a moat of black tar. Flies and other corpse eaters create a black shroud surrounding the structure, the scent of decay is considered revolting even by some other fiends. Stalking the vast halls of the Tower of Scum are countless monsters wrought by his wicked hand, far more formidable than one might imagine.

The Sculptor enjoys his craft to a great degree, taking jobs from anyone willing to provide more souls. Many have tried to bend him to their will or even kill him, with mostly poor outcomes. It is rumored that one of the dukes that attempted it was twisted into a shadow of his former self and is now bound to guard the Tower as a mindless drone.

And so the Sculptor overlooks his domain, providing Hell with newer and more abominable creations, grinning his wicked grin, scheming and conniving, as his grand plan will soon come to fruition.

Hook 2 (Nemanja) - The Queen's Plea

Between the cities of Arkhast and Blumenkhast, there lies a half-finished pyramid made of black obsidian. For ages untold, it has lain there, and while many rumours shroud the place in mystery, not a mortal alive today can point to its true origin. Many consider it a cursed place, owing to the fact that it lies on a corrupt ley-line and is situated in the only part of the forest not absolutely infested with mischievous but friendly fey-folk.

Several months ago, a minor but rich noble from a faraway land bought the land and put in motion plans to finish the building. While gossip soon blossomed, no one was truly concerned, as the deeply magical land had always been attractive to would-be occultists with money to spend.

That is, until one day when—mortally wounded—the Queen of Summer, mother of all the fey, appeared before the champions, begging them to find a way to stop the noble. Otherwise, she cried, the three-horned one would come back to finish what he started ten thousand years ago.

Hook 3 (TJ) - The Power of Bureaucracy

The tyrant devil drummed his clawed fingers on the edge of his skull throne, the other hand rubbing his forehead as he tried desperately to disperse the headache. He looked up at the phistophilus (he'd already forgotten her name), not bothering to hide the exasperation on his face.

He'd dealt with too many contractors during construction. At last, his brimstone palace was finally complete. Physically, at least. Finalizing the process and giving it a name wasn't as easy as just christening it in the blood of his enemies, apparently—though that was an important step.

"You mean to tell me that I can't call it 'The Palace of Unending Flame?' Why not? I'm Derthakk the Flame King. I went through all the trouble building it with that theme in mind."

"Yes, well, you decided to call yourself the Flame King, I don't remember an official title being approved. 'The Palace of Unending Flame' is taken, you'll have to call it something else."

"Alright, fine. 'The Brimstone Throne.' It has a nice rhyme to it, I could live with that."

"Yes, Kantherrik the Mad, which is his official title, liked it too. It's taken."

"'The Blazing Fortress.'"

"Taken."

"'The Scorching Kingdom.'"

"Taken."

He suggested about a dozen more that were all accounted for in-kind before digging his nails into his throne hard enough to leave gouges in the armrests.

"Perhaps," he said through gritted teeth, "I need some more time to dwell on it. I humbly request that you send me a list of names that are already taken. Until then, get out of my sight before I have to get a DIFFERENT contract devil to file an incident report."

She smiled sweetly and rolled up the contract they'd been poring over, his signature line tragically blank.

"Well, I suppose this might be a bad time for me to remind you that we cannot consider this a legitimate habitation without an agreed-upon name."

He suppressed a snarl. "What does that mean?"

"It means you can't live here, yet."

His frustrated, guttural yell resonated throughout the entirety of the unnamed palace and echoed through miles and miles of the surrounding hellscape.

Phistophilus (Contract Devil)

I'm tempted (get it?) to call the Contract Devil a quintessential one, because if there is one thing that we commonly associate with the devil, it's trying to pry mortals' souls away for a price, and this here baddie can do exactly that. A contract devil may offer an infernal contract that can grant any wish one might desire in exchange for their ever-living spirit being condemned to eternity in the fiery pits of Hell. As an added bonus, while the contract is in place, the devil always knows where you are.

In terms of its abilities, the phistophilus centers more around the social aspect, obviously, but can dish out some damage if need be (of note is that it attacks with the contracts attached to its horns, which are impervious to all damage). If the devil finds itself in a proverbial pickle, it can easily get away using its vast array of spells, should it find itself in serious danger.

So, how can we use the Contract Devil? To lure our players in with the promise of anything they might want, of course! I wouldn't put it past the fiend to appear before the party in their greatest time of need and offer them help, for a small price of one of their souls. The party can obviously try to retrieve their friend's spirit from Hell, but then again, that would be a direct violation of the contract, wouldn't it?

- Max

Hook 1 (Nemanja) - The Dealer is a Devil

Seemingly overnight, an old inn where even older sailors used to play games of chance grew into a gambling parlour the likes of which the world had never seen before. Set on three stories, with a small army of concierges, dice dealers, and bottle shakers in its employ, The Lucky Tooth is now an (in)famous institution. One of the things adding to the gambling parlour's popularity is that, unlike many other institutions of its kind, it will accept desperate calls of people to bet their clothing, horses or hounds, or even houses.

Hell, there are even rumors that a gaunt, clean-shaven, crimson-clad man will sometimes appear and offer the fallen one last chance: bet their immortal soul against as much as a thousand gold coins. After all, it's worth a shot, and they have nothing left to lose, right?

Hook 2 (TJ) - Get in Line

"I assure you, my terms are quite generous. Just sign here and you'll be anything you want to be, have whatever it is you want. A benevolent king, a ruthless despot, rich beyond your wildest dreams! I even had someone who wanted to be a dragon. Anything you want."

The terms were actually pretty generous. There was one sticking point, though. He pretended to mull it over, scratching at his stubble.

"Yeah, they do seem pretty generous. What about a deal that doesn't require my soul?"

"Darling, all I do is deal in souls."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that before. Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, I just. The soul's off the table."

"What do you mean? You don't need it. It's not doing anything for you. It'll be in good keeping. All you have to do is sign here."

She had a point. A significant amount of power and prestige was being offered for something he didn't need right here and now. It was still a problem, though.

"Yeah, I still think that's a no-can-do. Sorry, I'll have to walk away from this one."

He could see the exasperation (and maybe a hint of desperation) flash across her face for the briefest of moments.

"Why not? I've been more than generous, we spent hours going over terms. You're going to leave it on the table here and now? One soul for anything you could ever want."

"Yeah, see, about that, there's the problem. See, I don't have my soul anymore. Already traded it. There's a bit of a line to get it."

The disbelief and genuine shock on her face lingered a bit longer. To her credit, she recovered quickly.

"That's no." She cleared her throat. "That's no problem. I don't normally do this, it's generally below us. What about your firstborn?"

"Yeah, see, about that..."

Hook 3 (Reece) - Piled on Paranoia

Shybrandila Shiver-tongue is on figuratively thin ice with her Archdevil. After botching up a deal with an evil fey, as well as cutting a deal with a mortal king that went awry, she is looking to up her soul-trading game. 

Mendar The Wise has been making somewhat questionable choices as of late. The aging Lord Commander of the Steelcap Knights believes that the local villages are plotting to storm their keep and steal from the order. Shybrandila, knowing him paranoid in his older age, has been whispering of dissent to Mendar and his eldest advisors, sowing dissent among them. 

Having primed the leaders of the order, Brandi is looking for some adventurers of questionable morals to scare the old knight by posing as thieving villagers. Should some actual stealing occur, she doesn't care either way, so long as she can drive the entire order to do terrible things to the locals, damning them all the same...

Lemure

Lemures are weird creatures. Made up of the literal essence of Hell, their sole purpose is to be molded and reshaped into greater devils. They are pathetic, sniveling, and inherently subservient. As such, they are also the perfect representation of the souls of the mortals that sell their souls for diabolic powers.

The Lemure's stat block confirms their status as the quintessential underlings - their charisma and intelligence scores are pretty low, and their only ability gives other devils a way to command them.

If you don't give much heed to the official cosmology, the Lemure still fits the role of magician's servant, alchemical creation, and others pretty well—though it might still harbour diabolic ambitions...

- Nemanja 

Hook 1 (Nemanja) - Diabolical Design

Lemure-sculpting is treated as one of the most prestigious crafts a student at the University of Diabolic Arts can be taught. Existing at a crossroads between high art and high magic, 'tis not a skill one can easily take up.

The university lies over a very large deposit of raw evillium, the substance from which all the fiends of the world are made up. The most gifted apprentices are given access to this resource and taught how to shape it into subservient, yet powerful, creatures known as Lemures. Giving them aesthetically pleasing—even if twisted—forms is treated as a sign of control.

The Diablerie Inquisition is called in to investigate several murders and a chase after wild and esoteric clues reveals a shocking truth: One of the teachers, the conjurers' elite, has been replaced with a Lemure molded in his perfect likeness. As it turns out, one of the ambitious, powerful young students is commanding him. The problem is, there's still no clue as to which student is the perpetrator and which teacher is the victim...

Hook 2 (Reece) - Digging Too Deep

"It is terribly unfortunate, what happened in Tegriden. Terribly unfortunate," Lord Degarring gestured at the map in front of him, shaking his head. "But the truth of the matter is that there is no help to spare. The town is inconsequential to the war effort, I'm afraid."

"But, my lord, the people of the area are being overrun!" Lykander, the chaptermaster for the Sailor's Guild on the small isle that held Tegriden, was quite distraught. Degarring was the fifth landed lord he'd approached. Some prospectors, hoping to strike up another iron mine given the high demand from the war, had unearthed something just outside of Tegriden. Though he hadn't been there for the inciting incident, he'd heard haunted tales from some of the miners who had managed to escape.

A dark temple. Caged and twisted creatures long-forgotten but somehow still alive. A portal to some other place. To some hellish nightmare long buried. Fleshy creatures that mindlessly lashed out,

"The isle is isolated. I suggest you do your best to evacuate your people and abandon it. The Royal Navy will contain the creatures when the war is won."

People were dying now. The town was being consumed. Lykander would have to go... Elsewhere for help.

Hook 3 (TJ) - First Siege with a New Liege

"My liege, time is of the essence." The tyrant devil turned to his subordinate and gave it a flat look. "Ah, I've forgotten. This is your first siege, isn't it?"

The tyrant devil turned back to the city walls. "We do not have the resources to have an extended siege, is that your concern? You worry we overstay our welcome outside of Hell?"

"Yes, my liege, that's part of it."

"Then you have yet to see why we gather these tormented formless ones. This will not take nearly the time you think."

The tyrant outstretched his hand and all of the lemures gathered at the base of the walls began to shiver and converge, a central mass of roiling flesh beginning to take shape into some greater terror.

"I would not leave us exposed for so long. You should have more... faith in me than that. You'll learn. Or you'll die, just like the rest."

Imp

There is something telling about the Imp being the token devil—a mischievous little critter that's prone to pranks and occasionally offering deals that will condemn your soul to eternal damnation.

As per the Bestiary, the Imp operates outside of the usual devil hierarchy, having certain leeway in how it operates, so long as it gets results. The results, of course, being more souls to feed to the infernal furnace.

Looking at its statblock, it becomes evident that the creature is not suited for combat, only having one strictly offensive action (more if you count all the animals it can polymorph into). Where it shines is outside of it, in various social encounters. It boasts a solid choice of spells such as invisibility or charm that have a lot of applications, but the meat is in its Infernal Temptation ability, which is just perfect - the Imp offers you a small favor, with a neat little caveat that should you die within the next hour, your soul goes straight to hell.

So if you're looking for an emissary of the infernal, despite its meager stature, the Imp is a great choice.

- Max

Hook 1 (TJ) - Rise of the Rat King

Greel didn't hate his job. As a matter of fact, he generally liked it. Crawling where other people wouldn't dare go in order to do things other people didn't want to think about made him feel useful. No one liked to deal with him, but he provided a necessary service. Society needed ratcatchers like him. As a matter of fact, the rats kept telling him that.

This wasn't strange to Greel. He often got lost in thought and talked to himself when he was working, carrying on entire conversations. When the rats started responding, it felt natural. They were just echoing what he already knew. What was a little strange to Greel, however, was the offer of a partnership. Rats wanting him to catch other rats? Very strange. But very lucrative! The ratcatching sessions where the rats offered to help were the fastest, which made Greel feel quite efficient.

But then the rats started offering other things. Power. Money. Fame. And Greel had come to trust the rats. The contract was sealed. And Greel liked this new job even more.

Hook 2 (Max) - Bloodsand Bargain

Bloodsand Arena is a typical, underground, semi-legal fighting spot for vagabonds and ne'er-do-wells. Entry is gained through a seedy tavern in the slums of the city where you're then acquainted with the—very few—rules and admitted into the pit. There, you meet your opponent and proceed to fight to the death. Pretty simple, all things considered.

What separates it though is a small creature appearing before every combatant just as the fight is about to start. It is reminiscent of a sickly goblin with reddish skin, and most assume it to be so. The bugger offers everyone good fortune, and most accept.

Funny thing is that after this they can't be resurrected, should they perish in battle. The whole thing is kept on the hush-hush as if arena owners benefit from it in some way.

Hook 3 (Reece) - Grainland Bushdevil

Contrary to popular belief, it is rare for infernal creatures to make appearances in the Relendish isles. Supposed "devil-men" in the south-east are more often than not misidentified orc-blooded men who stalk the foothills, foraging for food or looking for work.

There is one place, deep in The Grainlands, that has a unique sort of problem—the foothills are absolutely ridden with bushdevils. These strange imps, permanently caught in the shape of boars, tempt hunters to sell their souls for an easy reward. Each time a hunter attempts to collect their bounty, they are chased deeper into the foothills where they might be collected.

Who exactly is doing this collecting? It's hard to say. The Grainlanders are looking for someone to deal with the bushdevils and find what has happened to the hunters, as they disappear without a trace, leaving their families destitute and their guild without ranking members. 

Gelugon (Ice Devil)

Any devil is bad news. The Ice Devil is even more so, likely indicating you'll have a Hell invasion of some sort on your hands should you happen upon one as they are unlikely to set out from their hellish layers and pause their machinations save for when they must see an assault through.

Insectoid in appearance, they are no doubt amongst the most cunning fiends, serving as Hell's military commanders in its many conquests. They have a penchant for a good challenge should they meet a worthy opponent in battle. Because of this, it is not unlikely for them to offer a game of strategy to see determine who the better leader may be. In the unlikely event of losing, Gelugon will try its best to employ the services of said commander.

The Ice Devil is a great way to show your players the importance of positioning. On their own they still pose a considerable threat, though when a Gelugon has several allies alongside it, you will truly put the fear of god (hell?) into the party. Its Tactician of Cocytus action allows an Ice Devil to reposition all of its allied devils on the battlefield. Oh, your wizard is safe in the backline? Well now he's got two Fury Devils on top of him. The fighter broke through the line and is advancing upon the Gelugon? Guess again, here are some Bearded Devils to make his life more interesting; all while the Ice Devil keeps chucking his ice spears from a safe distance. Add to that its Slowing Frost, some useful spells, and its Frightful Presence? You've got yourself one nasty encounter.

Hook 1 (Max) - The Madness of Maharn

Captain Maharn was renowned for his pragmatism, never one to pick a fight he wasn't sure to win. Things changed in the last few months, when foreign raiders appeared at the kingdom's border. They seem to take great pleasure in making their opponents suffer before disposing of them and so far have eluded any attempts to stop them. Maharn decided to lead a party to meet the foe in battle, where some of his men claim to have seen an insectoid creature twice the size of a man commanding the enemy forces.

It was following this battle that the captain changed. His officers often hear him muttering something about winning "the game" under his breath. The glint of madness present in his eyes is palpable to any that see him.

Hook 2 (Nemanja) - The Gate of Souls

Your inhuman luck, skill, and courage have led you over the ice wall.
Your quick tongue and light feet helped you slip unnoticed between the legions of Frost Giants and follow the icy river.

Before you stands another icy wall stretching taller and wider than the eye can see. Encased in the wall are what appear to be thousands of human figures, some of them vaguely familiar. At the base of the wall, appearing almost tiny by comparison despite its full twelve feet of height, is an insectile being holding an staff encased in frost. In an eerily calm and collected voice, it addresses you.

"Greetings, Traveler" states the monster, lowering the staff as it regards you with discerning, alien eyes.

"Welcome to the Gate of Souls, the Path to the Afterlife. Having come this far, I assume you are here for a reason, and know who you want to bring back? I also assume you know the price is your soul, to serve me as a frost drake for all eternity? Unless, of course, you wish to raise the stakes..."

Hook 3 (TJ) - The Master of Games

The Master of Games oversees the casinos on the Eastwallow Wharf. He is cunning, clever, and constantly on the lookout for cheaters and crooks trying to manipulate the games at his tables. The man is credited with the invention of most every card and dice game played in modern parlors the nation over. Easily distinguishable on the game floor by his cold steely gaze and watchful hawkish eyes, the Master of Games is ever-present when visiting his establishments. Some suspect an enchantment that allows him to be every place at once. Unlucky cheaters and scoundrels he catches have the chance to win escape from their punishment by beating him in a game of strategy, not chance. Every third full moon, he holds an incredible festival of games in a night of debauchery and vice unparalleled in the surrounding area. On these nights, the Master is nowhere to be seen. Requesting his presence on these evenings will get you a firm "No" from all of the staff. On these eves, in the back corridors where he keeps his office (and his vaults), a trail of frost lingers. Draw close enough to his door and one might hear the rhythmic clack of game pieces on a board, the low murmurs of inhuman conversation punctuated only by the guttural laughter of something... Other.

Erinys (Fury Devil)

 The erinys' (not sure if that's the correct plural? feel free to correct me) are the archetypical fallen angel. While perfectly capable of holding their own in a fight, it also has a rather high deception bonus, and some neat illusion spells - meaning she (or he) will try to sway you and lead you astray first, and will only fight you if they're out of options (or you know... if you really, really manage to piss them off)

Sorren Skyspear is an overly zealous and often violent aasimar inquisitor. His entire life, he has been dreaming of meeting his angellic progenitor. When he finally gets the chance, it's in the middle of a battle with some Outer Ones' cultists - and she is majestic in her holy violence. Enthralled with her nigh-divine presence, he hops along with her on missions of divine retribution. When he realizes that the missions have been more and more violent for smaller and smaller slights, and that his "progenitor" is no angel, it is almost too late for his soul.

After a long life spent in one adventure after another, Lord Durnsdale retires to his estate. Deciding to finally live his life as the noble he was born as, he takes for himself a bride, a beautiful young woman named Jolene he met during one of his many adventures. Jolene, herself highly educated, takes an interest in helping the good lord rule over his people. Secretly, she also keeps slipping mind-numbing poisons in his mead, until she finally has practically free reign over their estate. Luckily, the lord has yearly reunion feasts with his old crew - whoever remains alive of them, at least - and some of them are bound to notice something is amiss.

Rapunzel is a crafty Erinys devil living in an enchanted tower in the middle of nowhere. Using illusion spells to disguise ropes as his unnaturally long and majestic beard, he lures would-be saviours of both genders to his abode. Once there, he uses seduction and charms to lull the heroes into feeling safe, at which point he strikes, chaining his victims and dragging them to the hellish dungeons beneath the tower, where he tortures them until death.

Barbazu (Bearded Devil)

Minor blog update notice first: we now have a subscribe via e-mail widget, which should be located at the very bottom of the page and so far appears to be working properly.

Anyway, off to our topic for the day.

The Mad Mandrakh's Mausoleum is the only known passageway into the Hellscapes. While it initially appears to be a giant, deserted ruin, it is populated by a small plethora of fiends guarding in, foremost amongst them a legion of bearded devils. While the sly fiends are physical enough to ward off most weaker intruders, their main tactic against enemies of a somewhat higher caliber is to release a gelatinous cube down a hallway, then dimension door into hidden spots along the escape route, ambushing (in game terms - a metric fuckton of attacks of opportunity from stealth) foes as they inevitably retreat from the cube's unyielding advance.

The Demon Hunters of Azure Coast migrated to Kala'dahan with the rest of their people. There, they met their equals - the massive Barbazu population summoned forth by long gone diabolists. While the demon hunters are used to the sheer brutality of their quarry, they aren't used to the cunning and perseverance of barbazus, who will often engage in attrition warfare against the demon hunters, appearing from the darkness to land a hit or two, infecting with their accursed disease, then dimension dooring away. While it may take days or even weeks of tactics like these to bring down mightier enemies, the devils are patient, and will strike only at foes so downtrodden with disease that they can hardly even lift their swords, much less stands against infernal glaives.

While generally serving as rank and file military, bearded devils can and do also deal in contracts with mortals. It is often, but not always, a deal based on the devils' martial prowess. However, as they are notably not the smartest among devilkind - while still in possession of a sound bureaucratic mind, and traversing the myriad rules of contracts with a far deeper understanding then humans of equivalent intellect - many foolish mortals try to outsmart them.
A desperate ghost recently found out that a barbazu he crossed almost a century ago has freed himself from a trap laid by the ghost, back when he was still alive. The foolish young sorcerer made a deal with the devil, agreeing to owe him his soul "until he goes for a final rest", then banished him to chaotic planes beyond the reach of normal magicks. The magician hoped that he would be long gone before the devil comes to collect his fee, but didnt count on undeath doing him dirty.
Now, as eternal fire looms ever closer, he must beg a group of adventurers he has been pestering for months to help him.