(Illustration by Kieran Yanner comes
from the Paizo Blog and is © Paizo Publishing.)
Moloch’s inspiration is a Canaanite god who gets a lot of bad
press in the Torah and the Bible—two holy books that, let’s be fair, don’t
exactly have a track record of playing nice with the neighbors. But Moloch also gets some pretty bad press from
the Greeks and the Romans, and the phrase “child sacrifice” gets thrown around a
lot, so I’m perfectly fine with him being used as an archdevil. (There’s actually a post floating around the
Paizo Blog that basically says, “Well, that’s kind of how religion worked in
those days”…but I possess the ultimate authority on good vs. evil—Monte Cook’s Book of Vile Darkness (what, you were
expecting Spinoza?)—and it firmly puts child sacrifice in the Evil category, so
screw Moloch.)
In early editions of AD&D, Moloch ruled Malebolge as
Baalzebul’s viceroy. In 3.0 and 3.5
Moloch had an even rougher time of it, getting replaced first by the Hag
Countess and then Glasya. Pathfinder’s
Moloch, on the other hand, is firmly in control of both the Sixth Layer and
indeed all of Hell’s armies. If you’re
looking for a devil who’s a servant or a patsy of another power, Pathfinder’s
Moloch is definitely not it.
Probably the four most interesting things about Moloch are as
follows:
1) Moloch is publicly
worshiped. Devil worship is not
popular, by and large. Even for truly
dastardly faith communities, worshipping gods, even evil ones, is a safer bet
than worshipping beings that explicitly
come from Hell. (“Would you like to
spend eternity building a pyramid for the Pharaoh God of Taxation and Making
Slaves Grovel? Or go to the place with
the fire pits and devils and eternal torment?”
“Gosh, the fire pits do sound appealing.
But seeing as I’m already experienced at being taxed and groveling...Imma
hafta stick with what I know.”) So devil
worship is usually a cult thing. Heck,
even Asmodeus isn’t that popular in any land where he doesn't have governmental
backing—without a throne, inquisition, or similar power structure in place, his
church is at best seen as a necessary evil.
The other archdevils’ cults mainly stick to the shadows.
But not Moloch. His
worship happens out in the open. His
followers build giant sacrificial ovens.
Whole armies subscribe to his message.
Of all the archdevils, he is the one most likely to be worshipped under
the glaring eye of the midday sun. And
he gets that worship, because…
2) Moloch is
responsive. He answers the prayers of
his followers—often in a quite literal and personal fashion. Is your village threatened by flood? Forget subtle shifts in tributary
courses—Moloch just shows up in avatar form and dams the river. Is an army about to ransack your town? Moloch’s army is bigger, assuming he doesn’t
just squash the looters himself.
Yeah, the price for this prompt and professional service is
an eternity slaving away in Moloch’s army for anyone who asks for his aid or
offers even the slightest hint of praise.
But when floods, rapine, and slaughter regularly threaten your
subsistence-farming-level existence, being a mule skinner for an archdevil
might seem like a decent trade, especially if you don’t have to pay it off till
you’re dead. Which means that Moloch has
a surprising number of worshippers, despite being a walking metal furnace that swallows
victims whole and to burn alive in his stomach.
Speaking of which…
3) Moloch has
interesting symbolism and visual associations. Which means interesting worshippers and
sidekicks. He’s got a bull thing—use
some minotaurs as his cultists. He’s got
a furnace/child sacrifice thing—use the tophet.
He’s got a walking, fiery suit of armor thing—there are tons of
constructs, golems, elementals, devils, and undead like that. And he’s a general—which means animate war
machines like juggernauts or colossi.
With a lot of archdevil nemeses, the PCs’ journey fighting
their servants goes tiefling —> lesser devil —> medium devil —> nasty
devil—> archdevil, with maybe a fiendish dragon or something in there for
variety. Moloch’s followers are waaay more interesting that that. Literally any soldier of any race might be
found in his legions, either living, undead, as a fiendish version of itself,
or as some kind of twisted einherjar.
Pick up thematic cues from his description and his mythology and go
nuts.
And since we’re on the subject of him being a general…
4) Moloch is a general. He’s the leader of Hell’s armies. This means facing him is going to be like facing
any general with godlike power. He’s going
to have lots of troops he can call for aid.
He’s going to have aerial assault teams and assassination squads and
giant hellfire-fueled juggernauts. He’s going
to be physically powerful himself, and canny and strategic as well. If you come at him, you risk literally having all the armies of Hell
chasing after you.
That said, it also means he has other fish to fry. He has Heaven assaulting one front and the
demon hordes assaulting the other. He
has lesser generals and colonels who want his job. He has some mighty demanding bosses to
please. And, as noted above, he’s very attentive
to his flock. No matter how big you
think your beef with him is, you’re probably the lowest item on his to-do list.
Which means you might be able to sneak into his vast army
camp and ambush him. You might be able
to challenge him to single combat to gain some small concession. You might be able to put a treaty in front of
him to sign. Keep your goals reasonable
and small, and he might just to decide
to send his flunkies after you in retaliation rather than deal with you
personally, or burn your great-grandchildren to cinders a few generations from
now…but that’s their problem. Generals
are patient, generals can wait, and generals pick their battles. He will always
come down on you like a hammer, but it might not be today. And when dealing with
archdevils, those are as good odds as you’re going to get.
Adventures are asked
to investigate a so-called Children’s Crusade, only to discover it is a
sham—slavers are herding the children (and their hapless friar guardians) like
cattle to boats crewed by gnolls, hobgoblins, witchwyrds, denizens of Leng, and
worse. The trail leads past strange
cyclopean isles to a forbidding and cruel coastal nation of military
dictators. There the children are to be fed
to giant, animate tophets meant to fuel the archdevil Moloch’s fires in
Hell…unless the brave adventurers step in.
A solar and an uinuja
formed an unlikely friendship, despite their differing ethics, spheres of
influence, and relative power levels.
Now the solar languishes in a Hellish prison, and the plucky azata wants
to do what even the archons do not dare: stage a rescue, even if it means
facing the Lord of the Sixth himself.
Fortunately, she knows some adventures who are just as plucky—or
crazy—as she is.
The cult of Mithras
has spread throughout the Roman Empire—in particular, throughout the Roman
Legions. But as the cult has spread, so
have disturbing rumors about secret rites, bloody and fiery sacrifices, and
worse. At first, the Senate and certain
famous adventurers chalk this up to the usual politics and rumormongering Rome
is famous for. But then word comes out
of Anatolia that the great god Mithras is dead, slain by an imposter who now
usurps his throne and perverts his rites.
The usurper is Moloch, and he has turned much of Rome’s military might
to his service—for even those who resist his call in life have sullied
themselves enough so that he may claim their souls in death. Worse yet, the dour god Pluto is angered by
the potential theft of shades from his kingdom.
His priests threaten that if this Mithras/Moloch is not stopped, Pluto
will send an army of undead through the Lacus Curtius to drag the Roman army
down to the Underworld, no matter what the collateral damage. Great heroes have to act—and fast.
—Pathfinder Bestiary 6
30–31
(I’ve always thought the rapid spread and equally rapid
decline of Mithraism throughout the Roman Empire was pretty fascinating. So naturally I wanted to give your PCs an
excuse to be players in that particular rise and fall. Now, on to some housekeeping…)
Hi all. First of all,
again, apologies for the absurdly late post.
This article literally sat half-written on my desktop since something
like June 18. We’re talking a month.
Sure, this blog isn't the *daily* Daily
Bestiary it once was, but I’ve never
been as lax with my posting as that. Two
posts in June and none so far in July is unacceptable.
Toyota earned its reputation for amazing cars not through one
outstanding model or innovation, but through a company-wide suggestion system
that leveraged lots of tiny improvements.
Unfortunately, the same is also true in the negative. There’s no one reason I haven’t been able to
blog or one big nightmare I had to tackle (okay, there was one—a four-day,
46-hour workweek that sucked beyond measure—but let’s pretend I didn’t say
that). There have just been a thousand
tiny distractions and mini-hurdles. The
short version is: June was lame, I had to take some time for me, I probably
took too much, and I’m hopping the end of July is better. Much love and thanks to you all for your
patience, yet again.
Tumblr folk already know this (so forgive me if I quote myself verbatim) but my Blogger folk don’t: My second episode as a guest of the
Laughfinder podcast is up! Once again, I aid Bryan Preston, Jim Meyer,
and Tommy Sinbazo to fight evil conjured by Dorian Gray and Ben Hancock. Once again there are many NSFW riffs on Baltimore
landmarks. And most importantly, my blood feud with Aaron Henkin erupts
into passionate FURY. Enjoy!
Also once again it’s Monday, and once
again I’m wishing I’d posted the archive link for my radio show last
week—because this is a really fun show not to be missed, with hot takes from
JAY Z, Jason Isbell, and St. Vincent, as well as a look at 20 years of the Singles
soundtrack. It vanishes tonight at midnight (Monday, 07/17/17) so stream or download it now!