Greater Dispel Magic, and also be swarmed by flying undead.

All right, screw this. Razmir clicks his heels together and Plane Shifts over to his gateway demiplane.

Greater Dispel M - Wait, that's not a spell!

Toodles!

Earlier

—disorientation—

—confusion—

—pain—

He cannot see, cannot hear—

—he's—chained to a wall? Slick and damp, rough stone beneath him—what is sensation anyway—

—a voice pierces the silence.

     "He's mine."

He knows that voice, from a day that feels so long ago it might as well have been the Age of Legend, from the day he sold his soul.

          "Do you challenge me?" asks a second voice, rumbling like perpetual laughter. "This is the decree of our Lord Himself. You, worm, are too weak to keep him from the claws of his new friend the false god. Begone from my sight."

Something skitters away in the darkness.

—and there's a sensation like barbs of red-hot iron in his brain, a greater devil's Detect Thoughts, which doesn't so much detect thoughts as dig them out of one's skull.

Lastwall's spy operations, all his plans and designs against Hell's work in Golarion, burned.

(Well, all those he permitted himself to know about. Lastwall's truest secrets are guarded against this day, which he always knew might come—)

—but not all of them.

—She does not, you see, think there should be Evil gods at all—

          "Well, isn't this interesting," says that deep laughing voice.

Iomedae.

Sigh.

What?

Is this true?

(shitshitshit)

(—a dozen visions sent out to members of her Church, warning them to expect the worst—)

Yes.

Then you leave me with no choice.

Achaekek?

No.

What do you mean, 'no'?

I'm vetoing your use of Achaekek against Razmir.

You don't have the intervention budget to do that.

But I do.

You want Razmir to become a god? I expected such foolishness from Iomedae, but—

In fact I don't.

(but there's a path through the darkness, narrow and hard to thread, whereby Razmir might be redeemed)

But I don't want him to die yet either.

Fine. I'll do it myself.

Five minutes later, a Chelish strike team Teleports on top of one of Razmir's seniormost priests and hits him with five simultaneous quickened Maledictions followed by five simultaneous Slay Livings before he can get off a spell, then Teleports out with his body.

(They had plans for assassinating Razmir, should it become necessary. All of them are suicide, but perhaps not with the level of assistance Hell is providing this time.)

(In Hell, Razmir's methods for giving his priests unshakeable faith in him and his godhood no longer apply.)

... If Eike was in Hell. Their clerics do not, actually, have the power to beat Razmir in a contest of sheer strength, and He can afford clones for His most faithful valuable followers as well as for himself.

Instead he wakes in the fortress of Thronestep, with a pounding headache and none of his magical items or Permanencied spells.

Or, you know, other items.

Such as the most important item he carried, an attuned rod to Razmir's gateway demiplane.

The alarm that one of these has been lost immediately goes up, of course, but right now Razmir is a little too busy to listen to it.