In which a supervillain goes for a walk

......Wat. Note to self, find working acid bath to test on Reaver. For Charim, use soul to make NASTY magic tool. "Think nothing of it! After all, I'm a nice guy!" Lie of the century. "Anyways, turn around so I can brush your hair, Lenore."

Lenore wiggled in place till she was sitting cross-legged before Inker, playing with her fingers. "You've been real nice, Mr. Iggy... Is there anything I can do to help you?" Her question was honest and pleading, nearly begging for a way to help.

Inker would begin to run the brush though her hair. "Hush hush, you don't need to repay me. After all, you agreed to be my weapon, correct?"

Lenore gave a slight nod, careful not to disrupt his brushing, "Is that enough though? I can clean things. I'm really good at cleaning."

(OOC: Bey!)

"Meh, we have constructs for that, and princesses should not have to clean." Inker would say as he ran the brush through her hair. "Of course, I DO need a lab assistant, and it WOULD double as a education for you... Tell you what, I'll think it over."

Lenore smiled, still careful to sit still while he brushed through her silky white-gray hair.

Inker would continue brushing for a few minutes, before he stopped and put the brush down. "Okay, time to get you to bed, so you can get up nice and early for a good round of soul hunting!" He would say as he started to fluff a pillow.

Lenore quickly turned around and shuffled under the covers, "Can we make breakfast?" she asked excitedly.

"Sure. Remind me, we'll make waffles and bacon." Inker said as he tucked her in. "Now, goodnight, Lenore, I'll see you in the morning." He would then rise, and begin to leave.

Lenore bit her lip, "C-can I get a story..?"

Inker would stop, and turn around. "Sure, why not? Anything you want in particular?" He said as he moved the desk chair around and sat in it. "Knights, dragons, king arthur, anything in particular?"

She thought for a minute, "How about the dragon? I like dragons!"

"Good dragons, or bad dragons?" Inker would ask as he requested data concerning bedtime stories from the Archivist. 

===> Request Data: Stories. Subcatagory: Bedtime type. Keyword: Dragons.

Inker could feel the Archivists slight confusion, but it proceeded to gather data and relay it back to Inker. Just like a good data puppet thingy.

"Dragons just protect what's theirs. Is that good or bad?" she asked curiously.

"Depends on who you ask, sweetie. Anyways, lets begin!"

"Once, there was a mean old dragon, who ruled a small village, located in the mountains. He imposed a tax on the village, taking alot of the hard earned gold they dug up, leaving them near poor. Further, any changes to the village had to go through him. 'You want to build a road'? 'NO! NO ROADS!' 'You wanna build a inn? Fuggedaboutit!' 


So one day, the villagers had the cunning idea to slay the dragon. They would hold a party, for the Dragon LOVED parties, and bring several cases of ale. Now, the dragon was a REAL alcoholic, so they knew he wouldn't let any one else have some Ale. So, they did the sensible thing, and poisoned it.


So the Dragon came to the party, and drank, and drank, and drank, filling his system with poison. Growing more and more groggy, the Dragon assumed it was the ale causing his drunkeness, and not the poison. After a few hours, he keeled over, dead.


Celebrating, the villagers burned the dragons body, and danced the night away


However, the next night, they began to argue about who should run the village. They argued, and argued, and argued, until they had to go home, not having worked that evening. The next day, they argued again, and again, and again. And the next day, and the next day


Eventually, they began fighting over who should be the leader. This fighting grew worse, day by day by day, until the only one left was the man who had suggested the plan to kill the dragon. Falling to his knees in the ashes of what had been his village, he wept.


"So, look who it is..."


The man would look up, and see the dragons ghost. "Dragon! Why have you come? To taunt me?"


"Not really. This is as sad for me as it is for you." The Dragon would say


"SAD?!" The man would reply, "You ruled over us with an iron thumb! We killed you for your tyranny! Why are you sad?"


The dragons ghost, looking sad, replied "I only ruled over you so harshly because I knew, if left to your own devices, you would destroy each other."

Inker would lean back.  "The End. How was it?"

Lenore nodded happily, "I liked it! But, I was sad about the dragon. He was nice. The people shouldn't have pretended to know more than he did."

Inker chuckled. "Indeed, indeed." With that, he would rise. "Now that I've told you a story, its time to sleep. G'night, sleeptight, and don't let the bedbugs bite." He would move to leave.

Lenore pulled her blanket up to her chin and yawned, "Good night, Mr. Iggy."