Chapter 24: Revenge Attaches Her Curse on all Inaction

Demon Lord Azanth Level 12 Crisp (Prawn Cocktail flavour)

Rank 1 Light Green Evolution 0

Cast down from the Seventh Plane of Wickedness, this arch-evil demon lord was reincarnated on the Plane of Life as a prawn cocktail crisp. Surviving only for revenge upon those other demons who betrayed him to a paladin, Lord Azanth nurtures nothing but hate in his brittle potato heart. Or almost nothing.

HP 39

Mana 182

Health 20

Strength 6

Agility 6

Intelligence 19

Physical Attack 30

Magical Attack 30

Natural Armour 30

Magical Defence 30

Available points: 1

Equipped Slots: Perimeter (empty), torso (empty)

Exp 6.72m

Soul Stones 0/100

Rank quests 12/30

Skills:

Telepathy (Level 3)

Fortify (Level 3)

Intoxicating Scent (Level 3)

Titles:

Puzzle Solver

Member of the Purple Order

Patience was a virtue and therefore alien to Lord Azanth. Uninterested in enjoying the sensations of travelling by ship under a bright blue sky, nor in the conversation of his human companions, Lord Azanth would have seethed in impotent desire to fight something, anything, had he not his character sheet to contemplate upon. Revenge knew no pause in progress and development and she attached her curse on all inaction. Moments of self-reflection in preparation for the next step, however, she granted.

That complacency was high among the feelings Lord Azanth obtained through a study of his character sheet was, of course, foolish. Even so, long journeys were never completed without rest breaks. And since rest was obligatory under the circumstances, a look back over the journey thus far was an indulgence he would allow himself.

To have obtained Level 12 within two months of his defeat and reduction to Level 0 was surely as rapid a progress as anyone could have managed? Let alone someone confined to the form of a brittle slice of fried potato. As a consequence of obtaining his first rank, Light Green, Lord Azanth’s skills had all advanced to Level 3. And he was already at 12 quests completed out of 30 to obtain Dark Green rank, which would lift all his skills to level four.

When the ship arrived at the Ancient Ruins of Olamanth and he could begin fighting again for EXP, Lord Azanth anticipated that it would be possible to reach Level 15 within a week. Then he would unlock his next skill and he hoped that his uniquely flavoured character class would generate some equally unique skill options, ideally ones that that none of his enemies had ever encountered.

All too quickly, Lord Azanth’s respite from the driving lashes delivered by his desire for revenge came to an end with the thought that the happiest adventurer of Level 12, when viewing their progress through the thought of the perils to come and the difficulties to endure in order to reach Level 100, would sit down and – weakened by despair – would never rise. Yet he would rise. Crisp or demon, O he would rise. With that thought, he interrupted the young human from whose neck Lord Azanth hung in his Tupperware box.

What signs of our destination can you discern?

None, I’m sorry to say. There are too many ropes and sails blocking our view ahead.

His human companions had been allocated a small area of the bridge in which to stand, out of the way of the busy sailors. From the tone of their conversation, Lord Azanth could tell that the humans were happy, enjoying the experience of sailing with the waves on a swift pirate ship in a firm breeze. Perhaps there was wisdom in their good cheer. A journey should always be a source of pleasure in its own right for mortals, given their uncertain future. This was not an original thought, there were many philosophers who argued thus. But not for a prawn cocktail crisp was there a lock of hair lifted by a sea breeze; nor a scent of brine to awaken the drowsy mind; nor yet a spray of seawater to refresh the skin. The act of travelling could provide no other feeling than impatience for a demon whose thoughts were entirely on his final goal.

‘Land Ho! One point to starboard.’ A sailor’s voice from up above them caused a surge of eager anticipation to flow through Lord Azanth’s small body. It was a feeling that dissipated as it became clear that hours of sailing were still required to reach the island, hours that Lord Azanth spent reordering the lists of those he would destroy.

At last, the land drew close enough for Lord Azanth to sense it: a high, broken coast with many inlets, arches, and stacks of black stone above which rose spirals of seagulls and shearwaters. And just as broken as the natural stones, the base of a tower whose walls rose to no more height than that of a horse. This was one of the many ruins of Olamanth. What folly is the pursuit of immortal fame. The empress under whom the island once prospered had long been forgotten, her buildings tumbled by tremors. The praises that her choirs had sung to her everlasting glory were no more enduring than a gust of wind among the palm trees.

‘Passengers to the starboard rail!’ shouted the captain and he crossed the bridge to escort the three young humans to where a boat was being hoisted over the side, ready to be lowered. ‘You have until the next moon, that’s in twelve nights. If you want to come off sooner, light the blue lantern and depending on weather and tide we’ll close to the shore.’

‘Thank you,’ said Liam and the three of them clambered into the boat. Once cast lose on the waves, Liam took one oar and the sturdy female the other. Young Aengus settled at the prow. Soon they were pulling steadily towards a beach so pale as to be nearly white.

‘This is living!’ exclaimed Aengus. ‘I wish my phone worked on this plane. My class would be so envious.’

Kate shook her head but only gave a grunt to indicate that while for some a journey over shallow, blue-green water was a joy, for others it meant considerable exertion. Oblivious, Aengus leaned far over the side of the boat to scoop up the water and let it fall like a stream of diamonds in the sunlight. He laughed and did it again.

Once they had run the boat up the shore, offloaded their bags, and then hauled their craft far above the line of seaweed that marked high tide, Lord Azanth’s fellow group members settled in the two-room wooden bothy that all adventurers coming to the Ancient Ruins of Olamanth used as their initial base. While Lord Azanth had resided in castles and palaces, fawned upon by dozens of nobles and hundreds of servants, he nevertheless could appreciate the delight with which the humans sorted through the utensils and stores of the simple building, adding their own supplies to existing glass jars of grains and beans. When in Dublin, the cupboards of the youths had been pitifully bare. Here, their food supplies were plentiful.

‘They even have a visitor book,’ Aengus carried a thick volume over to a window whose sill was wide enough to sit on. ‘March twenty-twenty two was the last group. They were from San Francisco. A mage, a warrior, a cleric, and a ranger.’

Striking a match, Liam lit a firelighter inside a metal range and soon was feeding wood to a fire, heating a kettle on the hob. ‘Well, fair play to them. They left the materials for a fire all ready and the whole place spic and span. We’ll have to do the same when we leave.’

‘Here’s an interesting entry,’ said Aengus without looking up. ‘Twenty-eighteen. They have drawn a map to a building with a mosaic.’

‘Let me see.’ Kate’s tread resounded on the wooden floorboards as she walked to the youth. ‘We could start there, depending on the level of the mobs.’

‘I can’t help daydreaming that we find the treasure,’ said Aengus.

‘Well, don’t. We’re here to level up. And we can’t take any risks, the cost of being far from the spying eyes of Earl Clarence and his allies is that no-one is going to be able to come help us if we make a mistake.’ Liam was looking through the cupboards and had found mugs as well as a cork-sealed jar of tea leaves.

Treasure. One sure way to gain the attention of a human – and admittedly most demons too – was to talk to them of treasure. There was a well-known quest concerning the island and as it was easy to obtain (talk to the old sailor mending fishing nets on the pier) they had made sure to do so. Just in case. Lord Azanth called it up.

Quest Received: The Treasure of the Black Hawk

Your group has been told of the legend of the Black Hawk, captained by Orlak Bloodaxe. Shortly before the Black Hawk was sunk in a major sea battle, Orlak Bloodaxe was rumoured to have hidden his vast treasure – accumulated over many years – on the island of Olamanth. Despite many expeditions to find the treasure its whereabouts remain a mystery.

‘What would you do if we found the treasure?’ Aengus closed the tome in which former adventurers had left a brief record of their stay.

Buy powerful magic items; corrupt the servants of my enemies; hire mercenaries…

‘I was asking Kate but thank you Lord Azanth.’

‘I would give a lot to charity. The ones working with victims of abuse or those promoting metoo.’

‘Oh, that’s admirable. I was just thinking selfishly. Like buying a house in Dublin.’

Liam brought over three mugs of black tea to the sunshine of the windowsill and said, ‘it would want to be a massive treasure for that.’

When you have refreshed yourself, appreciate that to daydream away an afternoon befits a cat but not a group of adventurers determined on progressing in their levels, skills, and rank.

‘Lord Azanth wants us to get going,’ said Liam.

Aengus grinned. ‘Did you ever know a more impatient crisp?’

Kate was smiling too. Then she peered out of the window. ‘The sun is pretty low. We wouldn’t have time to get to the palace with the mosaics.’

Fierce crocodiles of level fifteen line the banks of the river not far from here; we can slay those and by dawn they will have reappeared.

‘Even though it feels like a holiday, we are here to grind. Lord Azanth is right, we could get in an hour or two, use up all our mana, and then come back and make dinner.’

‘What’s for dinner?’ asked Aengus.

Liam put down his mug. ‘Crocodile steak.’