After a visit to the bank and the wonderful sight of two assistants counting out the gold coins, the four of them were each €26,319 richer than when they had left Dublin for the Fourth Plane of Wickedness. Being free from having to worry about the cost of every purchase was a very liberating feeling, although Liam found himself constantly checking his new phone and opening the bank app to check the money was still there. Not only was his own money there, but Lord Azanth’s too. When it came to opening new accounts, the bank did not have a crisp-friendly policy.
The hostel they were staying in – The Moon and Stars – reflected their new wealth. Of course, they could have treated themselves to a hotel. Liam, however, wanted to save as much of his new balance as possible and but for Kate and Aengus refusing, he would have had them all stay in a dormitory for ten. Instead, they had ended up with a separate room for Kate and a shared one for Liam and Aengus.
The social room of the hostel was large, with an eclectic assortment of chairs: some comfortable and padded, others just basic plastic seats. A pleasant scent of coffee pervaded the room, generated from a self-service machine resting on an old wooden table. The walls were painted in dark blue, on which were depicted stars, planets with rings, cartoon aliens, and rockets. Everyone in the room was currently orange-tinged from the colour of the curtains that had been closed against the evening sun. On the far wall was a screen that was lowered for films and on it was playing a live RTÉ broadcast from Kerela beach, India, where the unprecedented raid force of good and evil had assembled in front of one of the widest portals on the planet. A dozen other people – young, a mix of nationalities – were in the hostel common room, watching as a female journalist spoke to a demon. She held her microphone towards him, on which was a padded, teal-coloured cover with the letters RTÉ.
‘I’m here with Lord Ballabas, a level ninety cleric and number two in the raid’s healing rota. Lord Ballabas, you can see the refugee camp behind us. Thousands of people have fled the First Plane of Virtue because of the chaotic activity of Syceus. Do you have a message for them?’
‘I do indeed, Roisin, my message is not to worry. Soon they will be able to return to their homes.’ Presumably, the demon’s smile was meant to be reassuring but Liam found it sinister. Prejudice, perhaps, against beings with horns, fangs and a tail that flicked into view now and again.
More to the point, Lord Ballabas is by nature particularly wicked, disloyal, untrustworthy, and duplicitous. He is one of those lords to whom I will not extend mercy, no matter how he much fawns upon me on my return.
Resting on Liam’s chest was the familiar weight of the Tupperware box. Lord Azanth shared Liam’s interest in watching the raid. It really was an extraordinary event. As kids, Liam and Aengus sometimes got out all their Adventurer figures and played out massive battles, either against each other or – his favourite game – they would pit all the Adventurers against a boss mob. They had about a hundred figures and would put them on a circular carpet, then attack them with marbles or shots of elastic bands until only a few (always the favourites, somehow) were left standing. Other than the fact that that half the raid party formed up on the beach were demons, the scene looked a lot like one from their childhood game with the camera view currently that of a drone above the army.
The journalist nodded, ‘You are confident the raid can defeat Syceus?’
‘I am. We have an unprecedented alliance that brings together an extraordinary array of skills. When we combine those available to demons with those available to the beings of virtue, we make it impossible for our opponent to defend against them all, even a titan.’
‘Thank you, Lord Ballabas. And while we wait for the first ranks to move off through the portal, we’ll go back to studio.’
‘Thank you, Roisin.’ The screen showed a grey-haired man in a pale blue shirt and smart grey jacket behind a cream-coloured desk. Along the front of the desk was green writing: RTÉ Raid Special. ‘With me in studio is Professor DuFrey of Trinity College. Professor, you’ve been talking to Earl Clarence about the coming raid. What can you tell us?’
It was an unpleasant surprise to see DuFrey’s face filling the large screen, looming over Liam as if addressing him alone. ‘Well, I can tell you quite a lot. Earl Clarence has been very candid with me about his plans. Let’s see. I think it’s interesting that the main raid tank will be the angel Mithelasin. Even though Mithelasin is only a level ninety-six fighter and Earl Clarence is a level one hundred paladin.’
‘Why is that?’
With an expression that to Liam seemed complacent, DuFrey leaned forward. ‘The reason is that they intend to turn Syceus away from the raid, with the fighter in front of the titan and everyone else behind it. The point is to ensure that the blasts of the monster’s Seeds of Fire skill will be hitting just Mithelasin and not the entire raid. For that to work, the tank must have fire resistance and a narrow hit box.’
‘Can you explain that last point to viewers?’
image [https://i.postimg.cc/mgjCffhL/Woman-in-Cube.jpg]
‘Certainly, here’s a graphic from one of my lectures. Viewers can see what we scholars term the “hit box”, this is the typical region around an Adventurer that a monster will attempt to make contact with once its aggro has been triggered. For humans and most demons, you can see the hit box is actually quite wide. If Earl Clarence were to be tank, there would be a risk that the monster could get between him and the wall and be able to turn outwards to some extent. With an angel, however, the hit box is reduced to an infinitesimally small point in the angel’s heart.’
‘Hah, hah. Hence the question of how many of them can dance on the head of a pin!’
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‘Hah, hah, but no. It’s nothing to do with that. This is important because if an angel stands in the corner of a room, you can be sure that the monsters attacking it must face away from the rest of the raid. Thus, here we see the perfect set up for fighting a titan, or, indeed many other bosses.’
image [https://i.postimg.cc/mrrMTXFQ/Hit-Box-in-Corner.png]
‘With a set up like this, attacks from Seeds of Fire and any other forward-facing blasts only hit the angel.’
‘I see. And in this plan, won’t the angel die?’
‘Not if properly buffed and with a heal rotation carefully organised that means a heal arrives every second or faster.’
‘Thank you, professor. And one last question; how long do you think the alliance between demons and paladins will last?’
‘Hah, hah. That’s a very good question and I don’t think anyone can really say. I do believe their common interest in saving the planes from the titans means that the alliance will continue until the last of the titans is shackled once more. After that…’ Dufrey shook his balding head.
Beside him, Kate was flushed bright red. ‘He’s so full of himself. He loves this.’
‘Your podcast is doing well.’ Liam opened the app to show her, but Kate shook her head.
His brother’s podcast, Grouping with a Prawn Cocktail Crisp was going well. The latest episode, all about the expedition to the pirate cave, already had 188,161 listens. Kate’s interview only had 30,340 listens, but that was still impressive. In it, she had talked with Aengus about her adventures with Lord Azanth, but she had answered a question about dropping out of college with the story of Professor DuFrey’s attempts to get her drunk and bring her back to a hotel room and his sulky behaviour towards her in the following days. Most of the comments were supportive but some horrible trolls were attacking her in various ways, so perhaps she was wise just to ignore them all.
‘I’ve had an email from DuFrey’s lawyers telling me to take that podcast episode down or they will sue.’ From a high-backed chair on the far side of Kate, Aengus leaned forward to catch Liam’s eye.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Liam.
‘Ignore it. Obviously.’
Kate smiled at this.
Did I just hear the presenter state that they will not be able to bring coverage of events beyond the portal?
That’s right. They can’t broadcast from beyond the portal.
Then we must leave at once!
You want to watch the raid?
Obviously.
You sound like my brother.
While the modern human manner of speech is dull and childlike, it has its merits when urgency is required.
‘Lord Azanth wants to go to the First Plane of Virtue.’
‘Great!’ Aengus sprang out of his chair. ‘Come on, so.’
***
Even though security were only letting through people with staff cards or student cards, there was a long queue at Trinity College of people wanting to go through the portal to the castle of Queen Elisend the Good and the rose garden-turned-maze, where the titan was most often to be found. Progress was slow and Liam found himself fretting that they might miss the battle, but when he finally got to step through the shimmering light to the First Plane of Virtue, he found the raid was still forming up. Martials, both demon and human, were waving spectators towards a gorse-covered hill.
‘If you are not on the raid, go there! Go up there!’
Thousands of other Adventurers had also wanted to watch the raid live and the hill was already covered with people. The temper of the crowd around them was a lot like that of a people going to a festival, with everyone patiently moving slowly over the grass in a mood of happy anticipation. Many people had brought food and drink and once high up on the slope, Liam had to thread a route past the edges of blankets and those who were sitting and having a picnic.
Not until they carried on along a ridge to a further hill did Liam think they had a good, unobstructed view of the whole raid party in the valley below. There, they settled down, with Aengus lying flat on his back, hands behind his head. ‘I was up late. Wake me up when they start to move.’
The evening here was dull. A thick layer of grey cloud covered the sky, with some so dark as to suggest heavy showers might come their way. There were gaps though, allowing shafts of sunlight to move silently over the landscape. One of these slid onto the hundred figures of the raid, who now appeared as a glittering army under vibrantly coloured banners. As he picked out individuals, the sight of so many famous and powerful Adventurers caused Liam’s heart to beat faster. This was a glorious assembly. There was Earl Clarence, in gleaming armour and carrying his radiant blue vorpal sword unsheathed; there was Lady Pulcharia, another paladin in bright silver armour, leaning on a spear; there was the angel Mithelasin, out in front of course. It was a Top Trumps, Greatest Adventurers, pack. Healers, fighters, DPS classes, and not one of them less than level 80.
Liam did not know the demons so well, but they too looked impressive, many of them bearing arms and armour that was clearly magical, from the glowing luminescence of them. While the magic of the humans tended to show as white, gold, and pale blue, that of the demons was typically purple or deep red.
They are all here, my enemies.
Traitors of all the castles of my former realm: pit fiends; spider-demons; bone-demons; blood-demons; reapers; winged-demons; and abyss-demons. Listen. From the air above us are the shrill cries of the black revenants on the wing, circling like raptors. Below you hear the bellows of a bull-demon, as powerful as the jackal’s cry. The succubus can be recognised by her slender figure; the misery-demon by his elevated shoulders; the cutthroat-demon by his broad blade. And there is Lady Liseth proudly arranging the order of battle, her scarlet dress matching the nodding red of her helmet plume.
They pride themselves on their power, these demons; they wait in the deceptive, languorous posture of lions eyeing their prey. Leaning against the apple trees, they disdain the humans nearby, watching the paladins and angels, appraising them for when their turn will come.
Despite the disapproval of their allies, slaves and imps hurry among them, bringing potions; spare weapons; and a final bite to eat. Evoking the sight of the dead burned after battle, bright fires have been stacked high behind them, at which forbidden flesh is roasting. The anise-sprinkled meat issues fumes that the demons enjoy all the more for the disgust it raises in the throats of angels. Despite the hazard of the forthcoming battle with a titan – or perhaps because of a hidden fear of it – some of these demons drink from vases decorated with gold filigree-work and filled with purple wine.
Every eye is dilated with the joy of being in a mighty raid party. Every face shows boastful pride in being recognised as one of the elite beings of the entire fifteen planes. Proud that diabolical power is needed, these demons think that they will be rewarded by greater opportunities to find souls on the Plane of Life. From under the hoods of their cloaks they cast furtive glances at the humans around us on the hills. But the souls that have come to witness a spectacle seem like ill-reward for the risk. Better the human who disdains sport for philosophy.
Suddenly they hear a warning cry, a ranger who can run through the air is sprinting back to the raid, her call loud and soft, rising and falling in the air like the wing-beating of a wounded bird. He comes! I’ve pulled him. Syceus comes!
The ground shook. Then again. And again, with a shorter interval.