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The Plane Shift lands the strike team (eight Razmirani priests) in a lovely field scattered with flowers, from which they can behold a bountiful vista of trees laden with fruit, distant running waterfalls, and high snow-capped mountains above which eagles can cheerfully circle.
There are, oddly, no birds, butterflies, or other small fragile animals within three thousand feet of them, just a mid-sized tapir which says, "You know, this isn't really the best -"
- And then the strike team teleports out again towards their scry location.
- Where there is a very large, very fat, very old pig, very grumpily sitting in a mud puddle. The mud is comfortable, which in an important sense makes the pig even more annoyed. There were some fluffy bunnies that came around trying to persuade him to switch sides but he bit them until they went away.
They snap into a defensive position, scanning the area around with arcane sight before -
"Greater Dispel Magic!"
"Greater Dispel Magic!"
"Greater Dispel Magic!"
"Greater Dispel Magic!"
"Greater Dispel Magic!"
"Greater Dispel -"
Razmir's loyal priests will bow and/or scatter and or/throw themselves flat on the ground while readying teleports and plane shifts to get out of there again.
And Razmir will Plane Shift himself over to one of His secret demiplanes that Morgethai didn't scry, and flop himself in a throne and GLOWER at the wall.
He misses his mask. It was a great mask. He had special goggles from Thassilon that he built it around that projected intuitive invisible-to-everything-but-arcane-sight illusions that highlighted useful features of the magical situation, and he could shift them to see where everything balanced. (It also did arcane sight.) And then the mask proper gave him a really scary reverb to his voice that terrorized all his minions really well, and it let him see through any of the duplicate masks, including the ones adventurers had stolen that let them think they were so clever, and possess anyone wearing one so he could speak through them. (Not use his magic through them, alas. But speak and control, certainly.) And his cloak worked in an antimagic field and deflected attacks and tripped anyone who tried to get in melee with him unless they were flying in which case it stabbed them, and his gloves were FULL of all his best staves... fortunately none of that stuff anyone who isn't him can use, but that doesn't stop him from missing them.
... He's going to need to offer to BUY them from Morgethai, isn't he. BUY them. This is UNJUST.
Of course, Hell will foot the bill. And has provided him with ludicrous amounts of spellsilver. And broke him out of the last two deathtraps. And funded his breakout from Nirvana, which was admittedly suspiciously easy. Probably Hell already lost the war and will owe him lots of valuables and a replacement domain.
It could be worse.
Of course, he did tick off a runelord.
Who won a war with Hell.
This whole program may not have been his best idea, though in his defense he did not know that when he started it.
... Razmir thinks that he is not particularly going to try to get his domain back, right now.
Razmir thinks that his best idea is to... sit in his demiplane network... with his army of fanatically loyal mind-controlled wizard cultists and simulacra of himself... and his huge amounts of gold and spellsilver and diamonds and sapphires... and puzzle out a way to make Cyclic Reincarnation work in a magic item without actually seeing Cyclic Reincarnation.
Golarion can wait. He has lots to do. Of all of his favorite things.
So... he wins. Really. He wins whoever wins in the whole Hell-Runelord war. That was the idea. And he did it! He won!
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