A Battleground of Kindness

by StormDancer

/cast Command Demon

Yheah! I mean we all ~love~ family reunions, right? And meeting your old master at your current Master's new fortress as they climb over the pile of the Master's local dirt lickers is what I just ~looooove~ to do on my time off. That's pretty close to a family reunion as far as I can tell.

Best feeling ever. Just fills you up with the warm fuzzies, it does.... riiiiiiiight before you realize exactly what a demonic contract is for.

Yep, you guessed it.

Stitchface was NOT happy about my ignoring her summons.

While she was in battle.

For weeks.

Okay.... fine. For over a month..... closing on four.

I can't exactly blame her, really. I mean, I am preeeeeetty amazing.

But yheah.... seeing Stitchface standing on a pile of motionless ponies she apparently pushed up to the Master's door, wreathed in fire and fel magic.... yheah. Those are the kind of warm fuzzies I could do without.

Wait.... something's tickling at the back of my brain here... I ... I know there's something wrong with that last sentence. Hmmmm... figure it out later.

Oh! And it looks like someone used an old leather battle harness to strap her head back together. Good for her! Looks like she had it riveted in place too. Fancy. Probably cuts down on accidents while fighting. Nothing quite kills the mood more than your head splitting in two at an inconvenient moment. Can't exactly just say "Oh! Terribly sorry about this, but could you wait just a moment and not run off screaming while I strap my face back together? K-Thanks!"

Also completely beside the point since she spotted me almost instantly and jumped down from the pile of horsemeat to stalk right on over to me.

Which was about the time The Master seemed to come to her senses.

Have I mentioned that Warlocks are a whee bit possessive?

Yheah. Pile of ponies plus invading hostile warlock plus godlike mutant flying unicorn warlock with a pet Armageddon equals a very quickly aborted trip across the Master's front hall.

It also tends to incite retaliation... you know... warlocks being warlocks.

What I don't think the Master counted on was that Stitchface is not a pony or a fat equine tyrant, or an egotistical centaur or mind-raping elder god.

Stitchface is a warlock... a very angry and very happy warlock.

Happy and angry tend to be closely related in most warlocks. I'm pretty sure it's something to do with their tendency to take things literally. Not mentally, mind you, but physically literally. If they want something, they literally take it, and woe be unto any who would try to stop them.

So, yheah. One moment, Stitchface is stalking across the hall and the next? Well, the next, she's in a cratered wall, two rooms over, with the Master very much freaking out about the pile of villagers.

But, like I said, warlocks are kind of possessive, and they don't really give things up easily. Packrats with murderous tendencies and the magical capabilities of a small demented army, really.

So, while the Master was fretting over a good portion of her property's population, Stitchface was peeling herself from the wall, not being deterred in the least. And then, suddenly the Master is hacking and coughing, her legs shaking and the putrid scent of illness wafting from her general direction. Angry muttering and flickers of light drew my attention to Stitchface as the familiar taste of curses filled the air.

It was honestly a bit nostalgic. So much so that, for a moment, I just kind of reveled in it... you know? Memories? The right kind of warm fuzzies. Brought a little smile to my face...

probably...

no way to prove it...

Don't look at me like that!

And, about that time, Spike yelled out in surprise and I suddenly remembered that the Master was, well, THE MASTER.

So.... yheah.

Fire.

I lit the Master on fire.

And while she was on fire, I counted off how much trouble I was going to be in for not thinking to light her up sooner.

Oh, there was hell to pay. There was SOOOO much hell to pay. Spike, instantly, jumped on me and started biting and clawing. So I phased. The Master let out a startled roar (warlocks DO NOT squeak), and shook off the curses like I knew she would. Stitchface glared at me before throwing off more curses. Spike slipped off of me and began running towards Stitchface with a murderous growl and the flicker of fel flames licking behind the sawblades of his maw. The pile of horsemeat by the door began to groan.

Stitchface spun on her feet and pulled out some long staff with a floating ring of spikes and whacked Spike across the room right as he was about to incinerate her. The Master yelled and spun to check on him. I started up a nice big ol ball of fire and let loose. Stitchface took it like a boss and glared at me. Spike groaned and got up. The Master checked him over and spun around with her teeth bared. Stitchface started conjuring a roiling ball of green and black flame as an ethereal skull flickered into existence at its core. I jumped in the way as the demon-bolt tore across the hallway and watched the magic burn out.

By the way, Demon-bolts hurt like hell. Reminds me of Mama's loving touch. I miss her sometimes... you know... that bloated heap of bile and vitreol that puked me into existence before sending me off into the bitter tides of an endless war? I miss Mama Grakkafraff something fierce. No one pukes up brothers and sisters like Mama does.

Oh... that would be the head injury talking.

Yheah. Demon-bolts hurt.

But the Master didn't seem to appreciate her possessions being damaged and when I looked up, all I saw were purple legs and a fierce white glow coming from her head somewhere.

Oh... so, she's standing over me? That's.... kind of like when the traitor attacked that one time.

Oh.

Oh crap. Stitchface is gunna get it something fierce.

And before I knew what was happening, there was a sudden jolt as I was yanked from beneath the Master, floating for the briefest of seconds between them, and a VERY unexpected flash of pain as I found myself the victim of a spell I hadn't felt in several months.

I...

Was I just sacrificed by Stitchface? That shouldn't be possible. Only a demon's master can force those kinds of spells on a demon. It's in the contract. We have to AGREE to let that kind of magic take advantage of our immortal nature. That shouldn't be possible unless...

Oh.

Oh my.

So, if the Master didn't break my contract when she made hers, that means she's simply powerful enough to override an existing contract... which means I'm still, technically, Stitchface's imp.... um....too.

Which means she just sacrificed me to protect her from the incoming damage that the Master is about to unleash.

And, well, perhaps that would normally be a good idea. I mean, sacrificing demons ~is~ kind of something warlocks are known for.

But, I'm also kind of the Master's imp. And the Master is a warlock. A powerful warlock. A VERY powerful warlock who doesn't seem to really 'get' the whole 'immortal-corrupting-evil-expendable-demon' ... thing.

A warlock who cares about her imp.

A warlock who just watched her imp apparently 'die' from a spell right in front of her.

This...... is not going to end well.

Author's Note:

I know this is about a week sooner than normal, but, eh... whatever. Enjoy.

Comments

[Venerable Ro]

This...... is not going to end well.

My friend, you are going to need several more languages in order to properly convey the depth of "not-ending-well" that this situation has achieved.

[Starlight Nova]

And then.... then he had been banished, unexpectedly, in a battle and ended up............ here.

Remember, an ellipsis is only three periods in a row. Please respond to this comment.

[Sonic Rainboom Dash]

[StormDancer]

9414088
Alrighty. I'm responding.
An ellipsis, technically, is a mark or series of marks, representing an omission. Used in that manner, it is identifiable as any such understood mark or marks, but in formal modern writing, it is most often represented as 3 dots — 4 if at the end of a sentence that would normally end in a period.

A secondary form of ellipsis, is informal and should ONLY be used in fiction to denote a pause or trailing of a sentence. As it is informal, it technically does not have a formal definition and can be conveyed by any mark or series of marks as long as it is understood to be a pause or trailing. This is an aspect of what is known as a living language and, while the formal ellipsis is only 3 (or 4) dots, it's technical form could just as easily be (((, UUU, œœœ, or even a character string of nonsense as long as it was understood to be an ellipsis. {ýÞ╙Q

So, technically, {ýÞ╙Q was me trailing off in a legitimate use of the informal ellipsis since I have now made others aware of it.

The modern use of ellipsis, (...) IS indeed 3 dots, but the common use of informal writing includes many such lapses of formal structure, and while I recognize this to be accurate on a formal level, I'd also like to point out that excessive use of such characters is frequently used to stress importance or mechanical emphasis.

Like adding repeat characters to the spoken word to show someone streeeeeetching it out or using capitalized letters at the middle and end of words to denote volume or even pain.

Gakham, for all his charisma and roguish good looks, remains a character of fiction and enjoys corrupting things, including the formal use of grammar in general... something that his new Master would be exceptionally happy if he stopped.

Oh... and Gakham sends his regards...............
<chuckles> On a serious note, never be afraid to comment or critique my stories. I'm usually pretty good-natured about such things and am happy to discuss them.

Aaaaaand, on a side note, yes, I am aware that I love my abusive use of ellipsis. It's my vice and I use them viciously. Some people smoke, drink, do drugs, or beat their children.... I overuse ellipses and avoid emdashes unless I feel the overwhelming need to insert them for some reason (alt code 0151, if you're interested).