//------------------------------// // Rez Sickness // Story: A Battleground of Kindness // by StormDancer //------------------------------// Well.... Waking up to the Master's pacing was nothing new. Waking up to the miniature apocalypse asking ~why~ she was pacing... also nothing new. The Master assuring Spike that nothing was wrong, also pretty much a day to day event. Having said whelpling note that if nothing was wrong, and the sun wasn't even up, neither was he, before flopping back into his little basket-bed? — Par for the course. Watching as little arcs of magic coursed through the Master's fur and occasionally causing her eyes to flicker a blinding white while she paced.... not so much. In fact, only a few seconds later, she seemed to come to the same conclusion as she glanced at the window in a panic, noting that, indeed, the sun was not up yet. Then she raced over to the window and started muttering to herself. I kind of shrugged... I mean, you know... early morning and whatnot. Probably not even enough peasants awake to go and commit acts of random violence upon. Not really worth it unless the Master was looking to engage in clandestine operations. Which, as memory served, was pretty much a pointless thing now. I mean, she OWNS the country and managed to get all the arcane powerhouses to simply GIVE her their magic. Still brings a cackle to my soul, that revelation. Ah... good times. But no... the Master was apparently upset that it was still the wee hours of the morning. I mean, I get it. I really do. There's just not much to do when everyone is asleep. Books only get you so far and torture's really only fun when there's an audience and all that. But she was seriously freaking out. Within moments, she had her face plastered to the window, staring up at the moon with little tufts of her mane and tail starting to spring out of place with the sound of cut piano wires. I'd learned from past experience that those sounds only lead to bad things... so I grabbed a nearby pillow, tore a hole in the cover, and dove in. Okay... point of note. When you tend to have little fel flames scorching things wherever you walk, it's a poor choice to hide within flammable objects. I mean, it's not like fire is painful or anything... far from it! Fire's GREAT! But... in terms of camouflage and maintaining your source of protection from flying objects.... not so great. Point is that in very short order, I found myself without my pillow-based armor and lying on the floor wreathed in flames. Huh... guess she missed fireproofing that pillow after all. Must be new. WHY AM I ONLY FINDING THIS OUT NOW!?!?!? I may have jumped around and given the little pile of smoldering pillow a few rude gestures, but when a shadow darkened my immediate surroundings, I looked up to see a very confused Master watching me. And then she gave a strained little giggle and disappeared in a flash of pink light. ... I didn't even get a 'stern' talking to for destroying her pillow? I looked around. No torture implements? Spike was still curled up in his little bed? The Lair wasn't on fire (well.. except for the remains of the obviously inferior pillow)? There weren't even any screams of the damned leaking up from whatever hidden dungeon the Master so covetously kept secreted away for her sick pleasures. For all intents and purposes, it was just another bright sunny day in the Master's little hamlet. I blinked a few times... And where exactly did the Master go that didn't immediately send me careening through the world on my little magic tether? And then, like clockwork, there was the buildup of magic that signaled what should be my immediate departure. Oddly, the only thing that happened was that the smoldering remains of the pillow vanished as the Master returned and scampered nervously to the kitchen where the sounds of breakfast starting up carried clearly with the Master's high-stress mutterings. I blinked. What the Fel just happened? The Master vanished, then she was back. I never got drug along by my magic tether. The pillow vanished (YAY! No evidence!) and the next thing I know, she's making breakfast? That's the butler-slash-slave-slash-pet apocalypse's job! And that's when it hit me. It ~WAS~ a bright sunny day. When the Hells did it become Day? -~oOo~- Breakfast! Yes... breakfast. Not something I'm used to the Master creating. Not really used to being offered breakfast really. Most warlocks only take care of themselves, leaving their demons to prey upon their victims in the heat of battle. I'm thinking it has something to do with the extra bit of fear that seeing an abomination of fire and death actually eating the chunks of flesh they seem so intent on tearing off. Must be some kind of emotional high for them or something. But, a warlock actually offering a summoned demon a sandwich? That's... I'm not sure actually. I mean, it's food. Yay. No one enjoys starvation, especially the immortal. Do you have any idea how sucky it is to starve when you can't die? And then there's the fact that the Master actually seems to care about us to a degree. She's not really letting any of us run rampant; might upset the peasants or something, but so far, she ~has~ kept even the Traitor from continuing with her little personal war to kill me. Then again, I'm pretty sure this is the first time she's actually given me something to eat. I mean, it's been weeks now, with no food. Weeeeeeeeell, not 'no' food. I still took stuff, but she's never taken me to battle and there's been a decided lack of bloody massacres within walking distance. Of course, the Master is a little distractable, so she might have just forgotten. She seems to do that from time to time. But a sandwich? Well, whatever the case, I ate it. Good too. Even had a little tang of super-saturated arcane conjuration in it. Spicy. Kind of funny when I think about it since it was a sandwich made out of bread with the day old bouquet of flowers from the kitchen table wedged between the slices. Should have been bland as water and twice as unpleasant. And yet, spicy and saturated with magic. Well, whatever the case, Spike was up in a few minutes, probably woken by the Master's dark mutterings, and pushed her from the kitchen as he started to make real food. I say started, because no sooner had he kicked her out then she started pacing and sparking again. Like a mana serpent in a room full of Blood Elves. Nervous as hell. At which point, she promptly detonated the front door to the lair, declared she needed practice, and scampered out, leaving a small trail of smoldering hoofprints. Wait a second! THAT'S MY SHTICK! ... Gotta admit though, it was kind of fun to look out and see all the little peasants scurrying away like rats. I'm so proud. So I hopped out after her, following the path of random fires and exploded country decor. Oh, and Spike chased after us. I guess he realized that if the Master is starting her rampage, he would be feasting upon corpses soon enough. Gotta admit, fresh kills or a flower sandwich.... not really much competition in my book either. So, imagine my surprise when I see the Master just open her wings and EXPLODE off the ground, leaving this dark purple blur through the sky. For a moment, I was confused until I saw what she was aiming at. HAH! Apparently she DID still harbor some anger against the Traitor because, less than a second later, she had devastated the cloud Rainbow Dash had been napping on. Not only did she destroy it, but she was going so fast that the shock wave actually caused the Traitor to almost fall to her death. Oh well, I suppose this was the first time the Master had used herself as a projectile, perfect aim is not to be expected. But before the Traitor could even process what had happened, the Master brushed the whole thing off as an accident, instead choosing to plow into the ground with her face. Oh, don't give me that look. Of course she planned it. She's survived much worse. Remember the piano falling on her head? Yheah... faking a crash is no problem for her. Even so, her other minions apparently saw her though, so while she was busy peeling herself out of the shoulder-deep trough she'd plowed through the cobblestone road, they came running up to see if she was alright. Suckups. Next thing I know, the Traitor is asking what the deal is... stirring up trouble, that one... no surprise there. But the Master just brushed it off, saying she must have caught a strong breeze. ... and then there are times I'm almost positive that the Master is an idiot. I mean, seriously? A strong breeze? HER FACE JUST CUT A RUT THROUGH COBBLESTONES. But, you know, brain damage and all, her little minions just kind of bought it. About that time was when Spike caught up and started pretty much drooling over the Rarity. Probably just wanted to take a bite out of her, but hey, what's one fewer minion when you have a dragon as a butler, right? Anyway, the Master just brushes them all off, tells them that Tea-wreck might still be out there and to keep the peons in their houses. Can't really blame her for that one either. You can't expect to make blood sacrifices with corpses... gotta keep them alive so you can kill them later yourself. And then we just wandered off out of town while her little clutch of minions gave nervous smiles and watched us go. ... The hells was that about? When the Master gives you an order, you follow it. I guess this is why warlocks summon help. Idiots do not make capable minions. huh... I wonder if that's why necromancers do their thing... you know? Mom tells them to go out and make some friends and raising the dead is just the most efficient way. Something to think about.