Also known as deimaviggas, armored in the ceremonial garb of some grim knight, this figure stands unnaturally still, though the intricate metalwork patterns of its sculpted mantle writhe and shift as if alive. Claws the length of longswords extend from its armored fingers in razor-sharp fans, and no head or helm rests upon its ironclad shoulders. Instead, there hovers only a plain mask, an unnatural facade devoid of all empathy, emotion, or mercy. The words of deimaviggas are poison to the mind. Regal, fearsome, and unfeeling, deimaviggas seek to turn the faithful from their gods, using cold logic to proselytize the path of atheism, the freedom of the mortal spirit, and the order offered by Hell. Their slowly ever-shifting masks speak envenomed words and imply the hollow nature of their lies. Speaking out against all deities except for Asmodeus, whom they subtly tout as a bringer of discipline even as they downplay his divinity—these deadly intellectuals know that those who turn from their deities are more likely to succumb to the temptations of their diabolical brethren. Rather than attempting to sway the souls of individual mortals, these cunning fiends take on the roles of prophets of reason, disguising themselves beneath layers of illusion to evangelize the virtues and freedoms of lives unshackled from demanding deities. Occasionally one might focus its arguments on a soul of particular piety, delighting in throwing deities’ most devoted servants into endless crises of faith. Deimaviggas care little for what gods their depredations affect, disenfranchising the worshipers of the divine and the profane alike. In their natural shapes, deimaviggas stand 7 feet tall and weigh a mere 120 pounds. When disguised, though, they typically take the forms of wise old men, priests who have “realized their folly,” and even “angels” of truth. Deimaviggas prefer to spend their time upon the Material plane, swaying the weak and corruptible souls of mortals. There they seek out either vast mortal cities, where their heresy might reach many ears, or small communities where the isolated might fall to their blasphemous philosophizing. When in Hell, though, they linger in Caina, tormenting the souls of those trapped upon its lonely islands, developing and testing complicated and often confusing arguments. Preferring to operate alone, these poison-tongued devils rarely work with others of their kind, even though their status as greater devils affords them great control over their lesser brethren. They find their arguments benefit from simplicity, their endeavors complicated by even the most obedient minions. Pit fiends and infernal dukes sometimes utilize deimaviggas as spies and spreaders of dissension and confusion, though even among devilkind these enigmatic fiends are considered strange and unnerving.