Xanathar glared at his foe with piercing red eyes.. 

"Zargon," he ground out. "This time, you've gone too far."

The hulking figure in front of him chuckled. 

"Come on, X, -"

"Xanathar."

"Fine, Xanathar then. I've done nothing wrong this time. You'd think I was some sort of evil demon, honestly!"

He kicked a rock on the sulphurous floor with his hoof.

Xanathar massaged his horns. It did nothing for him but he had developed a few tics since he became this buffoon's mentor.

"Zargon, we all agreed that day that nobody was to go about meddling with psyches anymore, people are too unpredictable. Look at what happened to Whatshisface!"

Zargon winced for a moment at the memory.

"OK, he made one tiny mistake-"

"He invented amnesia!" Xanathar exclaimed. Demon forms were heavily influenced by their effects on mortals. Those who focused on intimidation through sheer physical might were generally unaffected but the ones who interfered in the very workings of the mind... Nobody could remember Whatshisface's true name or even his facial features anymore.

"And now we've got an alarm going off about a Sin creation. What did you make?" Xanathar half-shrieked.

Zargon cleared his throat.

"Well, do you remember our last little chat?"

"The one where I told you to shut your impudent little mouth and respect your elders?"

Zargon grinned meaningfully and Xanathar looked confused.

"I don't understand. all you did was..." Xanathar's eyes widened. "You bloody genius. You actually succeeded."

The smug bastard nodded. 

"I displaced the side effect. Now I stand here, my untarnished, flawless self even after designing a true Sin."

Xanathar smiled at last.

"However that may be, Zargon, you still broke an Association rule, remember? They already placed their verdict. You, my friend, have been formally blacklisted from in-house auctions for the next 75 years."

Zargon huffed furiously. "Preposterous!"

"And your access to HB-OhNo has been cancelled," Xanathar gave the finishing blow.

Zargon collapsed. "Kill me," he groaned.

"I would if I could, trust me. By the way," Xanathar added as an afterthought,"What did you create?"

Zargon sneered. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

———————————————

Imp A walk to wall. Shiny rock in wall. Pull out rock. Put in bag. Imp A clever imp. Imp B still trying to eat shiny rock, but scary big imp like stones and give food for stone. Stupid fatty.

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Imp A walk away from giant wall. Soon Imp A full of juicy offal. Something noisy in up direction. Imp A look up and feel like going to be hit. World go dark.

As he floated in the darkness, he heard a booming voice. 

“An imp created this masterpiece? How the hell…?” The voice said incredulously before sighing. “None of my business anyway.”

Imp A felt confused. Where was he?

“Imp, you have transgressed and created a Sin so vile that you must face the repercussions of your hubris. As the demon of Punishment, I have made your penalty appropriately severe. Do you object?"

The imp didn't understand most of what the voice said, so it kept silent. Big imps didn't hit little imps if they looked like they were no threat.

"Good. Face your first punishment!" Light returned to the world and Imp A saw what was falling toward him. It looked like a giant metal box with wheels. For some reason, a phrase popped into his head. 

"Truck-kun?"

He pushed it out of mind and began planning. His thoughts flowed faster, smoother than they had ever been. Calculations filled his head.

The truck was big and he was small. If it hit him, he would be very dead. So, he should dodge! This was a brilliant deduction for an imp.

The terrified little creature ran, trying to escape the falling behemoth. However, he couldn't outrun it with his tiny legs.

He was going to die.

"Help!" he screamed in terror. He had to escape, no matter the cost.

It is essential to understand exactly what the consequences of creating a sin are. Just as Whatshisface had become a living embodiment of his creation, Imp A was slowly changing to suit his Sin. Sloth and the others had undergone gradual changes outside the ken of ordinary demons, gaining reality-warping powers from time dilation to mental manipulation . 

As for the odd little imp, his Sin was horrific, the cardinal sin of all who create- the Cliche.

Just as he prepared himself for death, another strange voice appeared. 

"Fatal impact force incoming. Activate defense Final Resort: Plot Armour?" it said.

The imp was understandably leery of strange voices. On the other hand, he was about to die.

"YES ARMOUR," he yelled. 

Imp A stretched out bravely, expecting magical armour to appear. At that very moment, he heard a shrieking cry and claws gripped his waist as an Ironbeaked Fury snatched up its next meal. The shocked imp stared forlornly at his arms and decided that mysterious voices in the air were not to be trusted. The "truck" exploded magnificently on the ground, igniting the sulphur into a ball of billowing flames. A few moments later, imp A fainted from altitude sickness.

The raptor flew at astonishing speed towards its nest. Had Imp A been able to look down, he might have been awed at the vastness of the land over which they flew. Unlike the cliff where he had spent his life working for the fat imp, these regions were fascinating. Rivers of molten lava flowed through the land, connecting vast colonies of demons. Some were built out of forbidding granite and cold steel while others with more dramatic flair turned their cities into works of art. Even from the raptor's height, the view was stunning. Unfortunately, the imp only regained consciousness at the end of the flight.

After a brief period of disorientation, Imp A found himself on a nest perched at the top of a cliff. He felt annoyed. Was the entire world just made of cliffs? Then he saw the giant evil bird which looked expectantly at its lunch. That was when that damned second voice decided to cock things up.

"Plot device ARMOR_72a was deployed unexpectedly. Correcting for story balance. Host shall lose all muscular control for the next 30 minutes in a dangerous situation."

The bird cocked its head as the imp collapsed pathetically before it. Normally, its prey would run for a short while but this would still do. It drew closer and contemplated on the best bit to begin with. The left thigh looked juicy, so it reached its beak downwards.

Right about then, the imp's loss of muscular control extended to his bowels and a trumpeting sound bellowed forth. The raptor shrieked, raking its own face with its talons as it fell of the cliff. Its splattered wings had lost all ability to keep it aloft and the poor creature plummeted to its death.

When the imp recovered, he staggered to his feet. Imp A resolved to forget that the incident had ever happened. However...what would he do now? He could hunt. Or scavenge. Or find a stronger imp to follow like he had before. Strangely, these perfectly fine things now felt... bland. Like old, dry meat or scummy lake water. Very dull. Something about him had changed after the first voice talked to him. Suddenly being Imp A was not enough. 

He kicked a pebble sadly. At least the voices were new and strange, even if they were bad and liars. Maybe he should ask the voices nicely. Which voice, though? Punish Voice or Armor Voice?

"Voice," he said, his throat constricting a little. "Help."

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