Bodies do I smile at, the corpses so forlorn.

Broken wings of angels evoke nothing but my scorn.

As his companion bore Lord Azanth across the field of battle, the demon lord could hardly avoid jeering at each body he recognised. Here was the demon Resquar de Châtillon, a level ninety-three support – a shaman – by thorns so thoroughly pierced that he was only recognisable from the golden design on his red cloak. When Earl Clarence had invaded the Seventh Plane of Wickedness, Resquar had surrendered his castle without offering any resistance to the forces of good and had thus deprived Lord Azanth of the time he needed to summon all his vassals. And here was Esaron, a celestial archer, level eighty-seven, face down in the mud, pale wings outspread; golden light all fled, by blood and mud splattered instead.

Was it unbecoming of a demon to gloat? Far from it. While humans honoured the muses of music, tragedy, poetry, dancing, and song, demons valued the muses of mockery, loathing, lying, mischief, destruction, temptation, and gloating. His former castles each had an aesthetic décor inspired by these muses.

Over there, my friend. Do you see the colours of Earl Clarence?

I do. But let’s hurry to the portal before Syceus changes his mind.

A short detour is surely in order, to stand over the saviour of the planes, currently deathly cold in the debris of his arms and armour.

‘Just going to check out Earl Clarence over there,’ Liam spoke aloud and it was but little time before all three humans stood near the body of the paladin, which was in much better condition than most. While pieces of Earl Clarence’s plate armour were strewn about, jagged and blackened, the man’s features were immaculate. To regard the paladin while in this apparent repose would lead you to judge him to be a spiritual man with a deep inner peace and focus on the moral life. And yet you would not be more wrong, for even in death this was as grasping, egotistical, ambitious a being as existed in the fifteen planes.

Lord Azanth contemplated his fallen enemy with considerable complacency. Would that this death were permanent and not merely a condition lasting some hours.

See the amulet around his neck, the one with a basilisk eye set in amber? You must take it, for it adds the Conversion skill to the paladin’s Lay on Hands. For four seconds, a quarter of all incoming damage on the target is converted to healing. It is a powerful item whose loss will be a heavy blow to the pompous fool.

Take it? I’m not robbing him.

There is no one else here but Syceus. Not one need find out.

My concern is not that I might get caught and go to jail for years. My point is more simple than that: robbery is wrong.

‘Loot the dead’ is a common slogan of Adventurers, is it not?

This isn’t loot. We didn’t kill him. He’s not our enemy. And what’s more, we need him at full strength to stop the titans. Earl Clarence is trying to save all the planes from chaos, remember?

Perhaps you are right, such a unique item would be easy to trace. Just take his purse then? I suspect it to be stuffed with gems worth at least a million Euro.

I’m not robbing anyone! They are all going to be resurrected… I mean, it’s simply wrong. Full stop.

Lord Azanth’s companion turned away, towards the portal.

You could cut his nose off.

…

At least kick him in the face for me?

Safely back in the hostel and considering the events of the raid, Lord Azanth found his frustration at the naive morals of his human associates began to fade as he meditated on whether he was truly glad to see Earl Clarence dead in the dirt. If the three titans were to remain unfettered for long, they would rescue their brethren from captivity and only the Plane of Life would be free of the harm that would follow. Hated though his enemies were, Lord Azanth would have welcomed their victory over the titan. If the crocodile eats your enemy, that does not make the crocodile your friend.

In a rare day off from grinding for levels and soul stones, Lord Azanth’s main companion, Liam, was lying on his bed reading a book of early Irish poems. The youth was responsive to Lord Azanth’s stricture that one ought, every day at least, to hear a melodious song, read a good poem, see a fine painting, and speak a few reasonable words. Just because he was not born to a noble family would not prevent Liam from becoming an accomplished vassal of Lord Azanth’s in due course. A fine vassal he would make; for the young man had proven to be very quick-witted, such as when he used of the Wand of Syceus to save them all from the death that seemed imminent.

A knock on the door; Lord Azanth sensed the arrival of Kate and Aengus.

‘Come in.’ Liam put his book down.

‘Hi Liam; hi Lord Azanth,’ Kate sat in the one chair. ‘Any plans for what we do next? I’d like to get away from here to the planes again. There’s a lot of grief coming at me from my podcast about DuFrey, lots of legal notices. He’s taking me to court to have that podcast removed and for damages.’

Liam rolled over and sat up. ‘Court? That’s surely a mistake on his part. It will put the spotlight on him and increase everyone’s attention to the story. Isn’t that what you want? To let people know he’s a bully and a sleaze?’

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Looking at the floor, Kate shrugged. ‘I don’t want to bother with all that court process though. It’s stressful and if I did it properly, it’s likely to be expensive. I’ve said what I want to say in the podcast. And I don’t want him to force me to take it down. So let’s get out of the Plane of Life.’

‘Fine by me, we can go level up somewhere.’

‘Good,’ Aengus had been standing by the door, he now came and sat on the end of the bed. ‘The raid showed me how useless we are, despite all our progress. I want to help subdue the titans and we are still a very long way off from being able to assist with that.’

‘Where next, then, Lord Azanth?’ asked Kate. ‘For a group around level seventeen.’

There stands on desert's high mountain, a castle built of yore, where once lived horse and horseman, with busy gate and door. Now door and gate are ashes and all around is still. And over the fallen ruins, we clamber as we will. Yet in the ancient tower, with evil in her eye, broods Lady Exquirav and upon us she does spy.

‘Lady Exquirav? Let me look that up.’ Aengus opened his laptop. Lord Azanth was somewhat familiar with human ways and had studied the internet from the point of view of using modern techniques to acquire human souls. Dating sites were a gift, only bettered by those relating to cryptocurrency and casinos. Despite his online activity, Lord Azanth was continually impressed by how much information was available to their entire species and how quickly any one of them could become knowledgeable in a subject that previously would have been obscure to all but the most expert. ‘According to Wikipedia, Lady Exquirav is a vampire, ruling a castle full of undead on a mountain in a desert on the Fourth Plane of Wickedness. The yard trash is around level twenty. The boss is fifty-six.’

‘Presumably we fight in the outskirts? Is it safe? Can we get to it easily enough?’ asked Liam.

‘There’s not a lot of information about it. A forum post on Dungeoneer says they had to run after pulling a train of high-level mobs from the tower. What do you say, Lord Azanth? Do you know this zone well?’

I have oft hosted Lady Exquirav at mine dances. She is merciless and all your blood would she drink to the very last drop. Nevertheless, the zombies, wights, wraiths and spectres of the environs of her tower are vulnerable to our skills and are plentiful in number.

‘Lord Azanth says it’s fine if we stay away from the vampire. And the forums say there’s a village at the foot of the mountain that’s close to a portal. We can get supplies there. I suggest we go at dawn, when it’s quiet at TCD.’

With a grunt that expressed his approval, Liam once more turned to his book. The female mage leaned back in her chair, arms behind her head. ‘I can’t wait to get out of here. Even a castle full of undead sounds more attractive than going to court.’

***

The assumption by the young monk that TCD would prove quiet at dawn was proven incorrect by the queue of freshmen students at the campanile portal. From the bell tower to the main gate, half the cobbled square was filled with young humans of every type of class.

‘Damn it!’ said Kate. ‘We should have checked our timetables. This is Michaelmas raid day.’

The delay in reaching the portal did not concern Lord Azanth so much as the possibility that they would be recognised. True, Earl Clarence and friends were lying in the dirt of the First Plane of Virtue – vainglory revealed for foolish pride – yet assassins would be searching for Lord Azanth in the Plane of Life, especially in Dublin. No sooner had he expressed this thought to Liam, along with the suggestion they leave to return on the morrow, than Lord Azanth’s anxiety increased, for through the gate and blocking their exit came classmates who recognised Liam and Kate.

‘Nowak! It’s you. I thought you’d dropped out.’ The youth who spoke was muscular and had the broad shoulders and wide face that Lord Azanth associated with the sporting type of character, the kind who might sell their soul for a place on the national team. Short blonde hair; dark, mocking eyes. An easy mark for a demon.

‘Hello Tom; hello Winifred.’

‘I hear you are level fifteen already?’

‘Sixteen.’

‘Wow. And I thought I was doing well on eight. You’ve got a star and light green ranking too.’

‘We only need four more quests for our light green status,’ said the young female called Winifred. She too would be eager to conclude a pact with a demon if levels and fame to her would accrue.

‘You’ve still got that wand? Don’t forget my offer.’

‘I won’t be selling it Tom. I'm not as strapped as I was.’

‘Oh, that’s right!’ The youth swept back his fringe. ‘You found the pirate’s treasure. And you must be Aengus who makes the podcast.’

‘You could have us on your podcast,’ said the female. ‘We were there the day that Liam found the crisp and Syceus broke free.’

‘I’m good thanks,’ said Aengus. ‘I want to bring listeners new information about zones. Liam and Lord Aengus have already covered how it all started.’

It amused Lord Azanth that Liam’s dislike of these students was so palpable that he was barely able to remain civil. After looking all about, Liam turned at Kate, ‘Let’s go to the portal. The sophister raid is through and there will be a few minutes before the fresher raid starts.’

‘Wait! OMG. You aren’t coming on the raid. You are going to do your own thing,’ the youth called Tom was wide mouthed. ‘Take us with you.’

‘We will not.’ Liam’s mind was burning with cold fire.

‘Kate,’ urged the girl, ‘bring us. We could do a podcast after. You know, the experience of your classmates when they got to find out what it was like to group with a demon crisp. It would be totally awesome.’

Kate shook her head.

If they speak to us unceasingly, they betray not our secret. Lord Azanth directed his Telepathy to Liam.

What do you mean?

Bring them both or they will speak to others.

Good point.

Death will probably find them at the lonely castle.

Bad point.

‘Do you really want to come with us?’ asked Liam. The measure of surprise on the expressions of Tom and Winifred was no less than that on Liam’s brother and his female friend.

‘Of course,’ said Winifred. ‘You’re famous.’

‘Even if it means missing the raid?’ Liam.

Tom nodded, ‘We’ll take the resit in February, won’t we Win?’

‘All right then, but mostly you’ll be watching. If you ever get aggro, you’ll be dead in a few seconds. We are going to be fighting undead level twenty plus.’

‘Bring it on,’ said Tom; Winifred did not look quite so eager.

A moment before Aengus could cry out in dismay, Lord Azanth communicated with him. It is better to have these two where we can see them, than have them running to all and sundry, boasting of having met us.

The decision made; action followed. Brisk was the stride of Liam up to the campanile, hurrying so that no opportunity arose for the group to be waylaid by acquaintances. Student ID shown; co-ordinates entered; and Lord Azanth was carried through the shimmering veil of magic to the Fourth Plane of Wickedness.

Silence. A glowing sun. Nearby, a summit so steep; by orange light lit. A castle tower, watching.

‘That’s beautiful,’ said Aengus, ‘like a painting.’

‘Don’t you think the tower looks like a laser from Star Wars?’ said Kate.

Winifred wrapped her arms around herself. ‘I find it creepy. Is that our dungeon?’

Liam pointed to a cluster of thatched cottages on the lower mountain slopes. ‘It is. We need to get to that village before sunset.’ He set off over dry, rocky terrain, where there wasn’t an actual path, but it was clear from the cart tracks that this was a well-worn route to the settlement.

‘This is exciting,’ said Aengus.

Tom hurried after him. ‘Yeah, man, it is. But one thing I don’t get. How do you defeat the mobs without a tank or a healer?’

‘Basically, root and shoot. You’ll see.’