A Battleground of Kindness

by StormDancer

Home City Dungeon Crawl

Well.

Well well well.

Weh-heh-he-hell well well.

Hell.

It looks like the Master and Stitchface are getting along swimmingly, much to the concern of her little minions. The Traitor is positively jittery, flitting around and glaring daggers at Stitchface as they roam the Master's castle. The Sorceress has been politely tagging along, offering up her 'insight' into the decor, though whenever she's not actively talking, she's glancing around as if expecting something to jump out and attack. The Sweatstain hasn't said a word unless spoken to, and even then, only in clipped little sentences like "a'yup," "e'nope," or "boy howdy." Might be evidence of a bit of brain damage... wouldn't surprise me in the least. The pink terror seems completely at ease, which of course, has been making Stitchface nervous. And the Assassin? She's tried to escape no less than 4 times, being drug back into the tour by the Traitor.

And Rysdyk? That haughty, swollen, cloud of the nether dark? That bastard's been strutting around like a king. Like he lives here! All big and strong and silent and imposing with his unshod hooves that strike faint sparks from the crystal floors and his billowing mane of the lost reaches of the abyss. Positively glowing with the Master's praise and only deigning ~look~ at things the Master points out, like the rest of us are so far beneath him that we're not even worth the effort of acknowledging.

It makes me sick.

I mean, sure, voidwalkers are about as intelligent as your average doorstop, but this guy's so dim I'm shocked that he knew HOW to answer a summons.

It's almost like he's being intentionally obtuse! It's Infuriating.

And, of course, the Master either doesn't see it or plain just doesn't care, and I can't imagine her not seeing it.

It's enough to make me want to light something on fire... well, more. I mean, I normally want to light things on fire, but now I REALLY want to light things on fire.

And I can't. I mean, not only am I not allowed to, but the entire place is CRYSTAL... and not the fun kind that explodes or starts super heating until the entire thing goes up in a billowing column of chemical death. Oh no... it's the boring, magic sucking, kind of crystal that makes you just want to burn it more because IT WON'T CATCH ON FIRE AND THAT'S PRETTY MUCH YOUR SCHTICK AND THE FEGGING VOIDWALKER'S STEALING YOUR THUNDER!

...

And, now they're going into the Master's bedchambers.

And Rysdyk just glanced at me and shut the door in my face.

...

I'm going to kill that voidwalker.

Wait... wait a fel-damned minute!

There is NO Fekking way I'm leaving that thing alone in a dark room with the Master!

So, I did what any Master-respecting imp would do: I phased and slipped through the crack in the door frame.

Don't look at me like that! The Master just invited Rysdyk into her bedroom and left me out in the hallway! Clearly, she's being influenced by some dark magic to which she is simply unaware. It's my job, no, it's my DUTY as her loyal imp to follow her and save her from whatever that voidwalker's sick mind has concocted! It's... it's what I SHOULD do because....

because?

Why do I even care?

"I obey." echoed from within, the voidwalker's bassy voice causing my skin to crawl.

Oh hells no.

I turned up my flames, enough to cast the entire room into a dim green glow. A massive four post bed, wrought of the same magical crystal as the rest of the castle, GREW from the floor. A wardrobe, towering above, its doors carved with the care only a master artisan could accomplish. A mirror, so clean and clear it almost seemed another room was beyond, complete with imp set ablaze.

But of the Master? No sign.

Until I heard a series of rhythmic thumps, a pounding that only increased in frequency and strength, and finally grew silent as the voidwalker's voice echoed from a dark doorway across from me, "Yesssssssss.....".

I didn't even care that I couldn't teleport, I hurled myself at that doorway, with every intent of saving the Master from being further despoiled with the touch of that.. that ... THING!

And, promptly fell down a flight of stairs, striking a good number of them as I tumbled and tumbled and rolled and WHY IS THERE A STAIRWAY THIS LONG IN THE MASTER'S BEDROOM? Until I crashed into a large, very firm, metal object.

A table, as it turned out, where Rysdyk was bound and connected to a multitude of wires.

And The Master was looking at me in confusion, dressed in a white lab coat.

Oh... and Stitchface was apparently resting in a chair, looking rather beaten up with an ice pack on her head.

...

Ah....

It's the lab.

Wait, no... it's ~another~ lab.

Heh..... oh... oh this is good.

I finally found the Master's kinky dungeon.

That's a shame. Now I'm going to have to destroy it to remove any evidence of Rysdyk. I'm sure the Master will understand.

-~oOo~-

Alright.... it's fine. Everything is fine. The Master and Stitchface are getting along. The Master is performing some kind of dark ritual involving Rysdyk. There is an ABSURDLY long stairwell hidden in the Master's bedchambers that leads to a secret, kinky dungeon-slash-lab that I was NEVER told about... which, given that the Crystal Fortress of Undisputed Power is only a new thing, isn't really that bad, but it's the principle of the matter!

But that's all fine.

All I have to do is distract the Master, avoid Stitchface, prevent unexpected battles, destroy the kinky dungeon slash lab, poison Rysdyk, and frame that cocky prick for the whole thing while making sure he's too injured to defend himself until the Master's wrath is upon him.

Should be easy.

Okay... deep breaths. Step one: Smile and wave before Stitchface and the Master know anything is wrong.

Riiiight.... they're looking at me... cough politely and scamper out of sight.

Check!

Step two: Take stock and outline plan.

K.... let's see. The Master, Stitchface, and Dashing-idiot are all occupied. Lots of wires and noisy science things. No bottles of facemelt.... shame that... but there are lots of things that can short out and make lightning. Hmmm... metal table, lightning, high voltage.... nah. They'd see that kind of thing a mile away.

Alright, no lightning. Well... there is glass and metal, lots of heavy sciencey things and a stairwell. Oh! If I can convince Rysdyk to show off, maybe I can trip him near the stairwell and things will fix themselves! No... no. The stairs go up and even if the Master changed gravity, the stairwell ceiling is smooth... nowhere near enough injury to take him out. Plus, he's a demon so... the whole immortal thing.

No. Okay, how about stabbing Rysdyk while the Master is doing her whole 'doomsday magic' thing? Massive disruption, possibly forcing her to lose concentration on a spell that could quite simply wipe out all life on the planet. Overkill? Maybe. But how to convince the Master to cast it, let alone reveal she even has one ready.... hmmm.... she has been remarkably secretive about it. If I wasn't her imp, I might not even think she had one ready. Clearly she does, even though all evidence points against it, but that's why she MUST have one ready. She's ALWAYS prepared.... I have the checklists to prove it. But... no..... then the Master will know I did it and not Riskydyke... RoyalDick...Dumbhorsedemon? whatever... That would defeat the entire purpose of the plan. So, no.

Grrrr... why does this have to be so difficult?!? It's not like he's smart enough to actually do a damn thing about it. Stupid voidwalkers are so tough BECAUSE they don't waste energy on growing more than three brain cells. They're just like those big cows that run their heads into trees because the leaves insulted them... Freaking idiots with enough meat behind them that no one asks uncomfortable questions like "How do leaves insult a bull?"

Wait.... Wait a minute.... that's it! No one asks questions because they ARE so big, powerful, and stupid!

So....

Let's see.... table, wires, lightning, glass from the sciencey things, lots of magic, a hidden stairwell in the Master's bedchamber that goes DOWN, closed doors, loud noises, and a not-desperate-at-all imp who clearly has the Master's best interests at heart! PERFECT!

Alright.... let's do this!

Aaaand.... the Master and Stitchface are staring at me...

I really have got to get better at not zoning out when plotting mischief. I mean rescues! Definitely rescues... can't be naughty... it's in my contract.

Riiiight, wave and smile and scamper out of sight in the most innocent manner possible.

Aaaand, Check.

Right.... grab these wires and 'accidentally' remove some of the insulation. Don't tear it off, just use a little more fire than normal... that's right, don't burn it, just let the coating 'melt' off... heh... fireproof against an imp my sorry flaming butt.

Now, leave them right next to the table, but not touching... that would short things out and everything is clearly already working.

— Wait! That actually worked? I can't burn things but ~melting~ isn't stopped? Oh ho ho ho! This'll make things interesting!

Check the area... Master and Stitchface are talking shop... Stitchface is gesturing offhandedly and the Master is clearly upset about something. Probably meat or killing or killing meat... never did understand her aversion to that... they're clearly related. Riseduck is still strapped down.... and a little snip with a claw has that restraint barely holding on. "Must have been faulty" they'll think.... "No chance it was the loyal little imp. He's such a great imp."

Still need a better insult-slash-nickname for the voidwalker, "riseduck" was scraping the bottom of the barrel as it is.

While they're distracted, scamper over to the Sciencey things.... big ones are better. They've got more lightning inside and weigh more. Check around the corner... Master and Stitchface are still 'discussing' things and there's only a little magic floating around them like death about to descend. Perfect! Walock conversations are GO! Climb up to the top of the Sciencey thing and wedge another sciencey thing behind it near the top. Don't care what it is... as long as the bigger one is ~almost~ ready to topple. Hmmm... better make sure this looks faulty too.... add fire and let the outside melt a little. Blue smoke? Eh, whatever.

Check the Master.... yep, teeth are bared and Stitchface is nearly growling.

Perfect.

Now, let's see.... wires, check. Weak restraints, check. Sciencey thing ready to fall, check. Master and Stitchface fighting....

Huh....

Actually.... not... in the plan but...

Oh crap. the Master and Stitchface are fighting again!

Crap crap crap crap crap!

Rysdyk! He can get between them!

No! He's strapped down!

Um.... Crap times two! And now there's fire and death lasers again! CRAP SQUARED!

How do I stop them?

.... MINIONS!

Running up the stairs it is!

Gotta save the Master's Lab so I can destroy the Master's Lab and blame it on the interloper!

-~oOo~-

STAIRS!

Why are there so MANY FREAKING STAIRS?!?!?

It's like running up an avalanche while on fire and breathing liquid ice while raining broken glass covered in razor blades!

Stairs are proof of all things Evil and the Master has a LOT of stairs.

Door is just visible. Door door door door door.

Gotta warn the minions so they can save the Master from stupid-smoke-horse!

Still need a better nickname for that guy....fek it... I'll add it to the list once he's dead.

Door!

... Locked door. WHY IS THE DOOR LOCKED ON THE INSIDE?

Oh... inside! The lock is right there!

But why is it so high up!

FEK!

Wait, I'm an imp! Phasing phasing phasing phasing aaaaaaaaaand THROUGH THE DOOR! HAH! Take that door!

Aaaaaand.... the minions aren't here. WHY ARE THE MINIONS NOT HERE? The MASTER needs HELP!

Stupid discount backwater inbred smelly fekking barnyard mud guzzling useless MINIONS!

ARRRRG! FINE! I'll do it myself!

Bedchambers. Drapes. Dresser. Mirror. Carpet? hmmmm.... nice carpet. Yes, fine, carpet. Window. OH! Bathroom!

Let's see... crystal floor. Crystal tub. Crystal cabinet. Bottles of flower smelling goop. Crystal sink. Crystal toilet? eeeeeeew.... bad design choice. AH HAH! Crystal faucets and big fluffy Non-crystal towels.

Right right right right right.

Water ON: check! Towels blocking the drain: check! Towels blocking the sink: check! Towels in the toilet because I AM NOT SHOVING MY ARMS IN THERE: check! Bottles stacked up to stop the toilet from stopping: check! Sink turned on COLD: check! Realizing I should have said bottles stacked up to keep the toilet flushing.... well... sure, Check.

Right then... Bedroom!

Window: open! Mirror in front of the stairs: check! Carpet bunched up by the door: check! Drapes pulled down and wadded up at the closed bathroom door: check! Covers yanked off and wedged under the door to the HALLWAY: check! Pillow cut to ribbons and scattered all over because this is stressfull: check! Mattress...

Mattress is a heavy pile of horsedung that needs to be burned the first chance I get...

Mattress... uh
dragged... over...grrrrr
to... door... rrrrrrr
to... HALLWAY... <gasp>... check.

Hernia? Not on the list! Get back where you're supposed to be, guts! I don't have time for you!

Good! Good... goodgoodgoodgoodgood.

Listen at stairwell? Master is still 'arguing' loudly with Stitchface. Magic is the normal progression of warlock arguments.

Great!

FIRE!

Fire on the sheets and drapes!

Oh COME ON! Fireproof too?

FINE! Fire turned down loooooooow and used to heat things up slowly.....so.... very.... slowly.

Smoke! Smoke is good! Candles in wall sconces still have fire in them! Sciency time with the Master says that adding fire to the origin of smoke, at close proximity will re-ignite smoking materials via thermal gas inductive combustion!

I listen to the Master. Sue me.

Candle from wall sconce, smoking drapes and bedsheets, aaaaaand FIRE! HAH! FIRE!

Right... save the Master. Spreading fire around room, carpet is catching... must have only been fireproofed against me.... I'm flattered.

Great! Fire burning out of control but the water leaking out of the closed bathroom door is keeping it away from the path to the mirror... and the stairwell behind it.

Alright! Time to get Minions! Turn to scream into hallway and.... NO! Mattress is STILL blocking the door!

Stupid stupid stupid!

Arrrrg! Heavy.... Freaking.... Mattress!

Great! Mattress is on fire now.... NOT in the plan... whatever.

... Door handle is too high. SACK OF...

IMP!

Phasing through the cracks aaaaand HALLWAY!

"MINIONS! MASTER IS UNDER ATTACK! HELP MASTER!"

Note to self: consider acting lessons. I'd never believe that kind of.....

And there's the sound I needed to hear... the gentle thunder of idiots willing to throw their lives away.

Finally... something's going right. I'm a genius. Bad actor, but I'm still a genius.

Hmmm.... why does it smell like burning wood? The crystal here doesn't burn. Eh, whatever... Fire does that... I'm sure it'll be fine.

-~oOo~-

Finally!

Minions are showing up. The Sweatstain's looking frazzled, probably because she knows the Master needs help and I caught her sleeping on the job. Blackmail obtained! Then the Assassin and the Traitor showed up. The Sorceress was last, looking a bit flustered, but magic users aren't normally known for their skill at running. They're all looking around and chattering loudly but not getting anything done.

Idiots... fine, I'll have to do MORE to make sure this works.

So I shrieked and squealed and pointed at the door until the Sweatstain yowled out and got the rest of them to shut up. And in that brief moment, all their eyes fell on me.

So I screeched and jumped up and down and scrabbled for the door handle which is CLEARLY above where I can reach and made it abundantly clear that I needed to get through the door.

I swear, it's like teaching monkeys.

This continued for a few seconds until finally the Assassin cleared her throat and suggested that I might be trying to tell them that the Master was in trouble.

I.... I actually have no words to describe how utterly stupid these Minions are. I LITERALLY just yelled for help, in the the common tongue, and they understood it clearly enough to come running, and she's suggesting that I MIGHT be trying to get help?

What do they think I am? Some kind of burning collie barking that some glue-sniffing child fell down a well after eating salsa with a hearty helping of lead-based paint chips?

I'm going to need to talk to the Master about raising her standards for minion recruitment.

Whatever the case, the Sweatstain spun around and bucked the door hard enough that it blasted in, hurling the flaming mattress across the room and simultaneously letting out a billowing cloud of smoke.

The hallway immediately started to fill with the heady scent of burning even as they scrambled back in shock. Looking back at them in disgust, I raced in, glancing back to make sure their collective 15 brain cells communicated enough to get them to follow.

The plan was simple.

Get them to come racing in. See the place on fire, clearly under attack. They'd see me racing off to help and follow along to save the Master. They'd see the fire and the destruction of the bedding, notice the open window (which should also give them enough air not to choke and die before the rescue), but not have time to really look things over. They'd miss the cause of the not-on-fire path to the mirror, the closed bathroom door with the wadded up bedding to guide the flooding water. They'd miss the lack of collateral damage and lack of a struggle due to the FIRE which should prompt them to assume the worst. They'd miss the hidden stairwell, seeing only the muted and hazy reflections of themselves in the mirror and, like the idiots they are, hurl themselves bodily into a blind charge. They'd hit the mirror with far greater force than needed, tumble down the stairs, and slam into the table the Master's voidwalker is on. The impact should snap his weakened restraints, and cause him to rise while simultaneously shaking the sciencey things enough for them to topple. Melted insulation should be enough for a short to occur and lightning and fire will be loosed in the confines of the tiny kinky dungeon. The Master and Stitchface will likely be shaken from their 'heated discussion' at the noise and destruction just as the glass things fall and break, the lightning from the sciencey things falling discharges, the Minions continue to fall and pile up on one another as they all come tumbling down like the suicidal lemmings they are, and Tinydick the Horse-fekking-Voidwalker rises up to say some stupid one-liner that will get him blamed for the whole thing.

It's PERFECT!

The Minions will probably break their necks, keeping my involvement out of it. The Voidwalker's too stupid to figure out that standing up didn't cause mass destruction. The resulting fire and lightning should remove all evidence of my tampering from notice. And, most importantly, the Master and Stitchface will blame that duplicitous bastard offspring of the dark reaches of midnight and a mustang for everything, ensuring his eternal banishment and the salvation of the Master!

With such a perfectly designed plan, nothing could possibly go wrong.

So I was understandably startled when I tripped over the wadded up bedsheets and was launched face-first into the squishy pink backside of the Pink Terror, who had SOMEHOW gotten into the Master's Bedchambers before the door was open.

-~oOo~-

Ack! Yuck! Bleh! Why is it sweet?!?!?

WHY is the Pink Terror's pudgy, pink, plot sugary sweet?!? There is no conceivable reason for a butt, ANY butt, to taste sweet! How does that even work? Why is it sugary and — No! NO NO NO NO NO!

That way lies madness.

Ignore the Pink scourge of reality!

I scrape my tongue with my claws to get the sugary taste off, ignoring her giggles, and light my tongue on fire for good measure.

The burning, it soothes.

But enough of that! The Master needs help!

I scamper past her and dart into the room, doing my absolute best to look panicked and hyperactive... all the better to conceal my growing concern that they'll figure me out.

Jumping to the bed, I scurry around, ignoring the fire, as I make a show of searching before coming up empty. A quick hop to the dresser and a leap across the burning rug takes me to the window, which I perch upon and look outside.

Nothing out there to see, of course, but it's about the act. Oh! Look! The little burning apple tree in the distance. Hmmmm... guess there is one good thing to come out of this night after all.

Grrrr.... Can't stay here, gotta sell the act. I leap off and scamper around the room as the other minions begin to pile in and gape at the destruction.

The Sweatstain begins to call out while the Traitor's eyes get huge and she blasts out of the window. The Assassin 'meeps' and staggers back, only to be caught and held by the Sorceress' magic. The Pink one giggles a little and shakes her bottom before joining me in my manic racing around the room, leaping into drawers and popping out of places entirely too small to possibly contain her mass.

Volume? Mass?

Volume..... I can almost see the Master squinting at me for using the wrong word.

Within seconds, the Traitor is back, a lump of .... CLOUD? She can move CLOUDS?!?... caught in her hooves and proceeds to squeeze and bounce on it to make rain.

I will have to reevaluate her worth at a later point in time. Weather magic should be far beyond such an imbecile.... and I didn't take her for a druid or shaman.

Pretty sure neither of those orders would want her anyway. As brightly colored as a poison frog and only half as intelligent.

And within moments, the fires are going out, the Assassin is timidly being coaxed back into the room, the Sorceress is squinting at the damaged drapery and rug, the Traitor is zipping in with another rain cloud, and the Sweatstain is still hollering for the Master.

And then there's the muffled thump of an explosion from the hidden stairwell and all eyes flick in its direction.

A cloud of smoke billows up around the mirror, the Minions cringing back as small flashes of green and orange light flicker through its growing mass. And just as I think they're going to take things slow, the muffled voice of the Master echoes up from below as she starts saying "No" in a rising panic.

And, before I can even think up something to trick them into racing off to help, the Sweatstain yanks down her helm with a glare and charges the mirror, followed by all the other minions!

Just

like

I

Wanted.

I'm about to engage in the requisite maniacal cackling when the Pink one giggles out a laugh right next to my head, drops a 'Good Job At Getting Help' cupcake at my feet, and bounces off after the others.

And I blink in abject confusion as the mass of them go charging through the mirror, leaving the room in silence...

... and the strange revelation that the reflection doesn't shatter as they disappear.

And I'm left staring at a perfectly smooth reflection of a dumbfounded imp with a cupcake as the Master resumes her panicked chant of "no" from below.

-~oOO~-

Destroying the minions was never my intent.

Destroying the Master-stealing smoke horse by leading the minions to mistake him as a threat, yes, but destroying the minions themselves? No, that had never been the intent.

Despite this, such losses must be expected in my line of work. Minions are not demons and are rarely immortal. I would doff my hat to them if I had one, but unfortunately, the tiny hat Rarity made for me went up in smoke a few minutes ago during the Master's battle with Stitchface.

It is a shame. Etiquette is quite clear that the doffing of hats is the appropriate response to the loss of life of a rival.

Regardless!

The Master is clearly distressed and the first line of plotting has resolved into failure.

Time for damage control.

Hopping around the miraculous-mirror-of-minion-mauling, I started racing down the hidden stairwell. Billowing clouds of acrid smoke and glowing wisps of arcane energy obscured the view, but the great thing about a stairwell is that they're pretty much an idiot's maze — they don't really take many turns or come to many crossroads.

I only missed my landing once, and that only helped to get me down the stairs faster.

Much faster, as it turns out, but faster none the less.

And when I had picked myself up from the wreckage of the table, it was to look up into the soulless eyes of the smoke-horse, staring vacantly into the void.

Well... okay. Nothing so dramatic, really. He was just standing there, looking in my general direction, but still... gave me a miniature heart attack.

So, after stepping aside, I got a chance to look the place over, and let me tell you, that place was a wreck!

There were pieces of broken equipment everywhere. Sciencey things were toppled or on fire. Little arcs of lightning would occasionally dance across the walls or floor, snaking little paths over surfaces and leaving light burn trails in their wake. The big metal table had been turned over and the various straps had all burned through. There were dimly glowing spots still visible where the metal surface had apparently gotten hot enough that the metal had begun to melt.

And there, prancing across a floor littered with broken glass and small flaming bits and bobs, was the Master... looking for all the world like a frightened child.

And then I saw Stitchface.

She..... was not a pretty thing to look at. Laying face down, the dress that Rarity had made for her showed signs that various things had either burned her or blown little holes through her on the way to becoming embedded in the walls.

Explains the mural of shrapnel I don't recall being here a minute or two ago.

But, perhaps the most obvious explanation of the Master's distress was the large, and apparently quite heavy, shelving unit that had fallen squarely upon Stitchface's head.

...

I... wasn't actually expecting that.

I mean, on the one hand, corrupting your master is kind of in the job description, but on the other hand, it's supposed to to be this long drawn out thing that starts with minor moral slips and progresses into horrifying lapses of conscience, eternally scarring the soul and sending them into a hate fueled rampage of indignant self-righteous fury in an attempt to assuage their wounded sensibilities. I mean... yheah, Stitchface was pretty messed up, but I'm also pretty sure it's in the book that you're not supposed to outright lead your master to their death.

Pretty sure.... I'll have to cross reference some stuff later tonight.

But, I mean, even so, the Master was taking it pretty hard.

Well... on the upside, the "oh so impressive" voidwalker managed to do absolutely nothing, so it shouldn't be too difficult to pin Stitchface's death on him.

HAH! The day is saved by imbecile void fart horse and I get to console the Master. No more stupid voidwalker to distract the Master from her plans.

It'll be back to tea parties and acquiring books and visiting her friends and destroying upstart titans in no time!

Perfect.

I just have this nagging feeling that I'm forgetting something.

Aaaaand, about that time, was when Stitchface's body dissolved down to bones and she rose from the grave once more with an upset look on her face.

Huh.... forgot that undead did that.

Hmmm.... still think I'm forgetting something.

Eh.... whatever. At least I can still pin this whole thing on the voidwalker.

-~oOo~-

Right, so the Master and Stitchface somehow came to the conclusion that this whole thing was my fault, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary.

I mean, yes, there was fire involved, and yes, there was wonton destruction, and yes the Master's bedchambers were pretty much torn to shreds and left to smolder, but I can honestly say that I was NOT in the lab when this all went down.

Aaaaand, since the Master knows I wouldn't lie to her... it breaks the no being naughty rule... she's still just squinting at me really hard instead of outright threatening me with a newspaper.

But Stitchface? No such luck. She's convinced that I, somehow, orchestrated this whole thing even though the retarded smog equine hasn't denied a dang thing. Even when I pointed to him and screeched! It's like he thinks that silence proves he's innocent.

HE'S A DEMON! OF COURSE HE'S NOT INNOCENT!

I'm innocent! Completely and totally didn't do a single thing that should have killed Stitchface or any of this nonsense!

But they're not buying it so, even when I grabbed the "Fabricated Ignition Reduction Expulsion System" and started spraying the smoldering bits with foam, they just seemed to glare harder.

I'm not used to the Master glaring... it's... I don't know... uncomfortable. She's not supposed to glare. It's like a rule or something.

Actually, I'm pretty sure it actually is a rule... at least an implied one... since 'Keep the Master Happy" is a rule.

Maybe I need to grab some tea?

But whatever, not even putting out the fires helped.

It's like they're blaming me for this whole thing... and that's clearly not right. I mean, even if they somehow knew that I had set up most of what happened, which they can't, but even if they could, it's like they've decided that no matter what I say, it's going to be a lie.

And.... I don't like it.

So I just kind of answered whatever questions the Master asked, like where I was when the fireball exploded (upstairs calling for he- What? There was a fireball?!?) and why didn't I look worried when I saw Stitchface dead (She's UNdead... these things happen) and just what did I think I was doing lighting things on fire (I CAN'T light things on fire! The Master fireproofs EVERYTHING).

In all honestly, I probably sulked more than I cleaned up while the Master was asking things.

But, ultimately, the Master just lit her horn up and the room started cleaning itself back up.

And I was told to 'think about what I had done'.

So, I went and sat in a corner, surrounded by a little barricade of broken glass and did what the Master told me to do: I thought about what I had done.

I had failed.

I'd failed to kill the voidwalker. I'd failed to pin the disaster on him. I'd failed to get the minions to do the dirty work. I'd failed to convince the Master that the voidwalker was useless. And I'd failed to get away with it.

Pretty much just failed all around.

And it wasn't just unpleasant to realize all that... it was... I don't know. It felt kinda... bad?

I mean, even when I was trying to kill the Master, she only ever really bopped me on the head and it was done. She'd frown for a second and scold me, but the next moment we were off doing whatever and it was like ... like...

.... like she'd forgiven me.

And I let her down.

Somehow, I let her down.

And I'm not going to do that again!

Oh no! I will be the BEST imp the Master has ever summoned! I will be the best, most polite-ess, most capable etiquette wielder she's ever known! I will put the spoons in the right order and shelve the tomes and grimoires and ancient relics of destruction in WHATEVER order she wants.

And when it's all said and done, I will bow respectfully, and slaughter all her enemies in the most devious of ways.

Because, if the Master is not happy... I have absolutely no doubt that she will destroy us all.

...

CRAP!

I just remembered what I was forgetting.

I got the minions killed.

Well.... fek. Not a great start. Buuuuut, but, we all stumble from time to time.

New plan! Get a pillow and make tea for the Master! That always works!

Comments

[StormDancer]

9695342
Actually... it looks like I may have saved OVER a chunk of the chapter while copying... so for the moment, I'm removing that copied bit and I'll (hopefully) have a backup offsite to figure out what went wrong. THANK YOU for finding it though... that's been up for long enough I'm pretty certain it was never noticed prior.

[Venerable Ro]

It's the accidental fakeouts that are the best fakeouts. He's caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people with that stunt.