//------------------------------// // A Heart Warming Tale - special edition // Story: A Battleground of Kindness // by StormDancer //------------------------------// A Heart Warming Tale - 12-20-2020 Ahhhhhh, relaxing in a pool of molten gold is a ridiculously arrogant way of proving how much better you are than everyone else. It should also be noted that it is rarely even remotely comfortable unless you also happen to be a four and a half thousand ton, fireproof, black-scaled, adamantine plated dragon with a tendency to immolate old growth forests and decimate the continental plates when you want to make a dramatic entrance. Or immortal. Which I am, but which the arrogant little noble who is skittering across the molten surface as his skin explodes with each contact, is not. Hah... gold's dense, which means molten or not, Sizzle-skin over there is NOT sinking. Ah... but, I digress. Good times. Goooooood times. And then that niggling little feeling, the one I've been waiting for for so long. The one that promises glorious destruction and unending tyranny for all that might bare witness against it. I almost shed a tear... but there was no time for that. I had a contract to fulfill my end of. So I bowed, politely. Smiled, politely. And mentioned the absinthe I'd set out, along with the soothing aloe and seaweed wraps that were over on the refreshment table, politely. And then I cackled like the minion I am as I completed the summoning on my end, leaving the poor sod to continue skimming across the surface of a lake of boiling gold. Greed'll do that to yah if you aren't specific in your dealings with demons.... true story. Listen to your parents, kids. Anywho. One moment I'm enjoying some quality time in the dark reaches of the twisting nether, and the next I was popping in to my home to make sure all the essentials were taken care of before showing up. Gotta make a good impression, you understand. Suit: pressed. Little top hat: brushed and with a fresh new ribbon. Teeth: filed to needle sharpness and polished to a gleam that will give candles envy. Fire. Oh... fire, how I love thee. Fire: on. On me. On the ground. On everything within reach. Little napkin thingy: folded and pressed and just peeking out of the top pocket. Tray: present and shiny and made of real silver! Stol.....er... reclaimed from unscrupulous individuals of questionable moral worth! Aaaaand little cane.... can't forget the little cane. Check check check check check check check! That's seven checks, by the way. I know you weren't counting, but that's why I said it... because you AREN'T worthy. And check. Eight. Everything's ready and time to do the thing! A second to glance in the mirror.... shoo! Move aside screaming souls of worthless orphans! I have places to be! Good.... Excellent. Perfect. Now... back to the summoning. A moment of concentration, a thrill of magic, a tingle of fel-tainted jubilation aaaaaand.... The dim light of home... the fiery hint of brimstone and the sour vitriol of corruption... the very smoldering feel of the air replaced with cool, pastel, floral, mathematical precision. It takes me a moment, perhaps even two, before I can properly respond. I am in the Master's sanctum... it could be nowhere else... and yet, it is different. The wood. The accursed fire-proof wood... is gone! The bookshelves and thinly veiled threats of absolute, overwhelming power.... are gone! Even the subdued presence of a secret lair.... just.... gone. And in their place.......... a colossal, crystal construct of arcane domination. I cackle a bit.... I couldn't help it. It had been so long since I had been to the Master's castle... and my stay there, previously, so brief, that I had forgotten. But that is all behind me. How could it not be? Fore here I am, once more in the presence of the Master! She is looking down at me with her signature promise of 'discipline'... her apocalyptic woe distilled again, thrust upon an unprepared world of sniveling imbeciles, incapable of even comprehending the measure of mercy that their meager existence is evidence of. Her 'smile', it sends a shiver down my spine.... but I remember my lessons... I remember my dark secrets and my knowledge of only the barest hint of her unimaginable power.... her 'ettiquette'... and I open my lips and clench my teeth and pull the corners of my mouth upwards in the manner that I practice every eight hours. I 'smile' at her in return, and she intones ancient power that can crush the will of eldrich gods with but its mere whisper... she 'giggles'... because 'invoking dread magics' is so incalculably inferior to that which she does so effortlessly. And with our greetings exchanged, the Master... my 'friend' turns and hails her other favored minions as I continue to invoke my 'smile'. There's the Orange Sweatstain, a brawler with an unhealthy obsession with a cursed fruit. The Sorceress, with her enchanted armor of mind-numbing wealth and power. The Traitor: her mane a riot of warnings to any who would care to live. The Yellow Assassin, with her horrifying skills of mind control and absolute silence. The Pink Terror... who is not where she was a moment ago and I'mgonnadiepleasedon'tkillme! Cupcake. The pink one gave me a cupcake. I.... know what to do with a cupcake. Etiquette demands it. I take a bite and.... Oh. Oh, it's bitter, and sour, and painful and I can feel my tongue blistering and bleeding. And I can't help it... I smile. I didn't even have to try. It just happened. Something old... familiar in its own way. I... I've missed this, somehow. I... scream. And then I thank her. And the Master ... my 'friend'... smiles and nods, and I scuttle along behind her as she walks her horrifyingly mutated horseflesh out into the evidence of her authority. Where there's a tree... severed from its source of nutrients, displayed with reckless disregard for safety or well being! How cruel! How morbid! I smile again. I look around as the Master gestures. Everywhere there are colors. Lights scattered across the expanse of crystal. Immense bowls of brass and gold, flocked with frigid winter's chill, litter the place. Severed limbs of conifers, twisted and strung together in a horrifying mishmash of artistry... the scent of arboreal blood hangs thick in the smokeless air. Here and there, cubes are hidden, their faces and contents obscured from scrutiny by means of pressed and painted paper. Curls of fabric, no doubt the Sorceress' work, hang, drape, or wrap various things and emplacements. Tables line the edges of the room, their surfaces heavy with the proof of decadence... enough to feed entire cities... hidden away behind glistening crystal walls... reserved for the Master and her chosen few. And everywhere, positively everywhere, tiny flames lick at the frosty air from atop their white, fatted, waxen plinths. I knew it. She always had it right there... and she was just holding back out of whimsy. "Well, Gakham. It's been a while! Happy Hearthswarming!" The Master's words echo in my head for a moment. Happy Hearrthswarming? Hearthswarming? Heart Swarming? Oh! Perfect! A test! A time to prove I can react and respond to her demands without explicit instruction! For a moment I panic... but just for a moment! I'm smart like that... and since meeting the Master, I've only gotten better. She sends me new 'friends in training' every day, after all, and I've been dutifully training them in the secret art of Etiquette. I am a good imp. The Master said so. She said she was 'proud' of me... and I will NEVER do anything to lose that. She said Happy Heartswarming.... it.... must be a secret she is trying to teach me.... something special. She didn't instruct me on it, didn't even hint at it, so it must be something that I must discover on my own...... Thinkthinkthinkthinkthink! Heartswarming? Heart Swarming? No. No no no nononononono! HEARTS WARMING! Brilliant! I know just what to do. And so, with a smile, I summon Sizzleskin's heart unto my silver platter. Steaming and tastefully arranged with a bright orange chutney and bow as I present it to her. The Traitor spewed fluids across the floor. I must have outdone her offering. Heh.... still got it. And the Master, my 'friend' smiles that smile that promises dark things if ever questioned, accepts my offering, and makes it vanish.... no doubt so that she can consume it at her leisure. The Master is truly magnificent. And her casting her realm into the frozen wasteland I can see through the windows makes me smile as well... for she is a good Master, and when she calls for them, I shall gleefully lead her army of 'friends' to decimate any who would stand against her. I nod as I sip some 'eggnog'... heh.... a liquor made from the liquefied bodies of flightless birds. How ironic that they celebrate this show of power by drinking the literal next generation of the lessor beasts. But my thoughts are interrupted as she presents me with a box... a small box. "It's for you" she says. And I know how to receive arms and armor from a warlock... but.... from the Master? I can only open it and take the fluffy blue noose and smile. She even helped me to put it on, tightening it just so.... to remind me where I stand. "It looks good on you, Gakham." And I can only reply... "Thank you." This Hearts Warming... I... I think I like it.