Jagged bits of metal, armor, and sharp pieces of wire embed the flesh of this towering fiend.
AC 18, touch 9, flat-footed 18 (+9 natural, –1 size)
Speed 30 ft., fly 30 ft. (average)
Str 18, Dex 11, Con 16, Int 11, Wis 12, Cha 15
A genthodaemon can create an aura of pure carnage. All critical threats made against targets within the aura (including the genthodaemon) are automatically confirmed. Dying creatures within the aura take a –10 penalty on stabilization checks. The genthodaemon can activate or suppress this aura as a free action.
A creature that strikes a genthodaemon with a melee weapon, an unarmed strike, or a natural weapon takes 1d4+4 points of piercing damage from the barbed wire and other pieces of jagged metal embedded in the genthodaemon’s body. Melee weapons with reach do not endanger their users in this way.
When a genthodaemon confirms a critical hit with a claw attack, pieces of its metal nails break off and enter the target’s body, working their way toward its heart. When the slivers reach the heart 1d3 rounds later, the creature takes 1d6 points of Constitution damage. The slivers are destroyed by anything that removes curses, diseases, or death effects. Likewise, creatures immune to curses, diseases, and death effects are immune to this ability.
A genthodaemon can shake loose four large pieces of the shrapnel embedded in its body as a standard action (make a separate attack roll for each piece). This attack has a range of 180 feet with no range increment. All targets of this attack must be within 30 feet of each other. The daemon can launch at most 24 pieces of shrapnel in any 24-hour period.
Environment any (Abaddon)
Organization solitary or squad (2–18)
Genthodaemons are common troops of daemonic armies, resolutely obedient to any greater type of daemon that gives them orders. They personify death in hopeless or futile wars, genocide, and the despair created by long, bloody stalemates where the combatants lose their will to live and forget why they were fighting in the first place. They have almost no role in corrupting mortals, as they are devoid of interest in the fates of most other creatures, but are sometimes called by daemonologists or greater daemons for use in war or their ability to shape battlefields. Any daemon that can summon a ceustodaemon can instead use its summon ability to summon a genthodaemon.
A genthodaemon looks like a stereotypical fiend— basically humanoid, but with claws, a tail, bat-like wings, and cloven hooves. Metal armored plates, barbs, and spikes cover its body, though these are part of the daemon rather than armor it wears. Its claws are jagged metal shards sprouting from its fingers where nails should be.
Genthodaemons are only slightly above cacodaemons and lacridaemons in the hierarchy of Abaddon. A greater daemon may create a genthodaemon from a cacodaemon or one of the hunted (a dead soul trying to survive on Abaddon); however, most arise naturally from war-battered souls who band together as hunted, transforming into true daemons simultaneously when the group has cannibalized enough souls. Genthodaemons show unusual loyalty to others in their band, though this doesn’t interfere with their obligations to more powerful daemons.
A typical genthodaemon stands over 9 feet tall and weighs 500 to 600 pounds (with much of this weight stemming from the daemon’s embedded metal).
Souls that become genthodaemons usually come from worlds where war technology has advanced to allow production of large amounts of metal armor and weapons—particularly worlds where firearms have been invented. When battle grows so such a scope that the enemy becomes a faceless tide, or killing becomes casual and easy at long range, the act of waging war becomes completely dehumanized and soldiers become mere pieces in a perpetual machine. In such grim instances and the seeds are planted to send soldiers’ souls to Abaddon.
These ties to the craft of war stain the dead soul and the daemon created from it, manifesting as armor plates fused with daemonic flesh, pieces of weapons embedded in its bones, or even remnants of siege engines or barbed wire sprouting from or wrapped around the daemon’s body. These elements are part of the daemon, not mere decorations, but any mechanical pieces merely resemble functional items and no longer work (for example, a daemon with a crossbow or rifle embedded in its arm cannot shoot it). Genthodaemons from the same band often resemble each other, including the shape of their metal parts, sometimes because their mortal selves were even in the same army and uniform.
Like other daemons, genthodaemons hate all living things—and to an extent, themselves—and look forward to the death of the last mortal, for on that day they will have no other reminders of their bleak mortal lives and can focus all their hate inward.
Genthodaemons patrol the fortresses, cities, ruins, and wastelands of Abaddon looking for invaders, hostile non-daemons, and gangs of the hunted. Because they usually travel in groups, they are rarely preyed upon by other creatures and only have to face death when deployed as part of a Horseman’s army. They are of low status but fulfill a necessary role as soldiers of Abaddon. Greater daemons treat them with the formal respect due their relative difference in rank, much like how a general might treat a common soldier. However, in the wars against mortal life, the Horsemen understand the value of suicidal missions and brazen sacrifice, and are not above sending countless genthodaemons to permanent destruction if it advances the cause of Abaddon. The genthodaemons accept this as their lot and never complain, as protests require effort, will, and the belief that there is a possibility of change—three things these shell-shocked creatures lost long ago.
On the Material Plane, genthodaemons sometimes serve daemonic cults that are unworthy of a greater daemon’s attention or lacking the power to summon a more powerful creature. As their magic is suitable for war and destruction, they have limited use to mortal cultists not intent on violence.
Pathfinder Adventure Path #71: Rasputin Must Die! © 2013, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Author: Brandon Hodge.