There was something about mobs which wanted to eat you that gave Peter a feeling of peace.
Mostly because none of the mobs were not brave enough to try to eat him with Red behind him, Blue behind Asmodeos, and Asmodeos' skeletons in the front.
"Fellow denizens of Hell!" Peter said, for he felt that he should go for a dramatic effect.
"Who are you calling a denizen of hell?" A hag yelled, her claws dripping poison.
"And aren't you?" Peter knew that it was underhanded to call them monsters to their faces, but he still wanted to.
After all, if they weren't monsters, then they were just rejects. But normal rejects were protected.
These monsters had wanted posters littering the countryside.
"I'd have you know I was born in a clinic!" The hag protested. "And my mother was assisted by real healers!"
"Yes, then why are you a hag now?" Peter asked. It was a tough thing to ask of the poor woman.
