A Christmas Kharol
gekigarion
Join Date: 2003-08-24 Member: 20172Members
Join Date: 2003-08-24 Member: 20172Members
<div class="IPBDescription">The story of a grumpy Gorge</div> I know I have another story going as of now, but starting from here on is a holiday special I'm going to write up. (Course, it'll be done by Christmas)
<b>A Christmas Kharol</b>
Old Marley was dead, no doubt about it. He stepped on a stack of 50 mines under HMG fire, the poor Fatty. Scrooge saw it. There was no doubt at all about it: old Marley was as dead as the millions of pieces he had become.
Scrooge never sprayed out Marley's name. There the spraypaint stood, for years over, the hive entrance: Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes the newborn Kharaa would call Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but it made no difference to him as he answered to both names anyways.
Ah, but he was as cold as a pack of mines, that Scrooge! A burbling, squelching, gurgling old sinner of a Gorge he was! Never did the cold budge, not when a bullet flicked his nose, nor when a skulk ate at his behind in a desperate attempt to receive healing. Not even the coming Christmas made him any warmer than before.
Heat, cold, Healspray, Grenades, none of it made any difference to him. No Spit that was spat was more acidic than he, no Bite or Scream more vicious. The heaviest rain of bullets, of grenades, of Acid Rockets, of Spikes could only boast one thing over him: they all did their job much more gracefully than he.
Not a Skulk, not a Lerk, not a Fade, not a Gorge; nobody ever stopped to look at him and say, "Dear Scrooge, how are you doing, would you care to come over and heal me sometime?" No res-dry Skulks implored him to build an RT, no Fade had ever Blinked to him for healing, no Kharaa at all ever asked him to Bile Bomb this place, or that place. Even the OCs, DCs, MCs and SCs seem to turn toward him with an eye (If such a thing could be said to exist on one) that seemed to say, "No Gorge at all is better than an evil Gorge, no sir!"
But Scrooge, what did he care! It was the very thing he invited. To plod his way through the hallways, warning all hearts to keep their distance.
Once, long ago, Scrooge sat busy in his res-whoring house. It was slimy, dank, dark, and all, and he could hear Skulks fighting outside, chomping their teeths in rebellion to the explosions of grenades.
The door to Scrooge's whoring-house was open so that he could keep an eye on his lerk clerk, who in a sad excuse for a vent was Spiking Marines and tallying up RFK. Scrooge had a very small and withered DC, but the lerk's DC was so small and helpless that it could barely fend off bugs. But he couldn't revive it, for where Scrooge could Healspray, he could not, and he knew full well that any mention of the deed would be the day that they parted. Therefore the clerk put on himself Regen, and tried to hold his own against the bullets, in which effort, not being a strong Kharaa, he could barely manage.
"A, merry Christmas, uncle! Hive save you!" chomped a cheerful mouth. It was the mouth of Scrooge's nephew, who dropped from the roof so quickly that it nearly surprised the old Gorge.
"Bah!" Scrooge Spit out. "Humparasite!"
This nephew of Scrooges, he had so dodged the bullets outside with fast Celerity, that he was quite hyper, his teeth unchipped and handsome.
"Christmas, a humparasite, uncle!" his nephew chomped out. "Surely you are not serious."
"I am," he Spat out. "Merry Christmas! What's there to be merry about? Humparasite, I say! You're poor enough."
"Come, then," his nephew chomped back cheerily. "Why must you be so grouchy? You have quite enough res."
There was no better answer that Scrooge could have Spit out just then but "Bah!" and "Humparasite," which he did.
"Aye, uncle, don't be so cross," the nephew chomped out.
"What else can I be, when I live here in this world with fools such as this Merry Christmas! What's Christmas time to you but a time for paying res, a time to find the marines another tech level higher, but not a time for whoring res?"
"Why uncle! It's a time for Biting, for Sporing, Stomping around, the only time in which us Kharaa can unite together and kindly help each other. I, for one, always look forward to this day, this day of giving, sharing, helping, a pleasant time!"
At this moment the lerk turned around and clapped his wings in approval, but quickly sank back to Spiking under Scrooge's glare.
"Don't be angry, Uncle! Come -- feast with us tomorrow!"
Scrooge Spat.
"But why?" the nephew cried out in chomps. "Why?"
"Why did you get married?"
"Because I fell in love! We shared our first evolution together!"
Scrooge Spat again. "Because you fell in love!" he stated as if it were an even more ridiculous thing than merry Christmas. "Good afternoon!"
"Aye, uncle, but you never came to see me before it happened. Why use it as a reason not to come now...?"
"Good afternoon," Scrooge simply stated.
"Can we not just be friends?"
"Good afternoon."
"I am deeply sorry to find you so unnerving. But I shall keep to the Christmas humour. Merry Christmas to you, Uncle!"
"Good afternoon!"
"And a happy New Year!"
"Good afternoon!"
Without and angry chomp or chuckle, his nephew quietly left. He stopped momentarily to wish the same to the clerk, who was in better spirits than Scrooge himself, returned the merry greeting. Scrooge snorted in disgust. Yet another fellow, this lerk and his res-dry family, talking about a merry Christmas.
That very fellow, in letting Scrooge's nephew out, in turn let two others in. Two chubby gorges, an interesting change of appearance, bowed with their stiff necks. They happened to be carrying with them webby, paper-like lists and webby books.
"Scrooge an Marley's, I believe," said one of the Gorges, referring to his list. "Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Fatty Scrooge, or Fatty Marley?" he inquired politely.
"Fatty Marley has been dead seven years past," Scrooge said. "Was blown to bits on this very night, I believe."
"Doubtless that his work has been carried on quite fairly by his partner," was the reply.
"At this time of the year, Fatty Scrooge, we feel is is quite desirable that we should make some provision for the res-dry, who suffer greatly at the time. Many thousands are in want of common upgrades, hundreds of thousands are in want of common evolutions, sir."
"Are there no marines to fight?"
"Plenty of marines to fight, sir."
"And the Gorging Workhouses?" demanded Scrooge. "They are still in evolution?"
"They are still," returned the Gorge. "I wish I could say they were not."
"The working and the RFK are still at full, then?"
"Both very high, sir."
"Oh! I was uncertain and afraid, at first, that something had prevented their course," said Scrooge. "Glad I am to hear it."
"Under the impression that they barely fill the cheer of the Hivemind or body of the multitude," the Gorge returned, "a few of us are endeavoring to raise a fund to buy Upgrades and evolutions, and some means of structures. We choose this time, because it is this time that marine feasting is keenly felt, and RFK rejoices. What shall I put you down for?"
"Nothing!" Scrooge replied.
-----------------------
So how was it so far? I know it's a huge parody but hey, this is one of my favorite Christmas stories ever.
Also check out my recent poem in the stickied "Kharaasmas" thread.
<b>A Christmas Kharol</b>
Old Marley was dead, no doubt about it. He stepped on a stack of 50 mines under HMG fire, the poor Fatty. Scrooge saw it. There was no doubt at all about it: old Marley was as dead as the millions of pieces he had become.
Scrooge never sprayed out Marley's name. There the spraypaint stood, for years over, the hive entrance: Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes the newborn Kharaa would call Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but it made no difference to him as he answered to both names anyways.
Ah, but he was as cold as a pack of mines, that Scrooge! A burbling, squelching, gurgling old sinner of a Gorge he was! Never did the cold budge, not when a bullet flicked his nose, nor when a skulk ate at his behind in a desperate attempt to receive healing. Not even the coming Christmas made him any warmer than before.
Heat, cold, Healspray, Grenades, none of it made any difference to him. No Spit that was spat was more acidic than he, no Bite or Scream more vicious. The heaviest rain of bullets, of grenades, of Acid Rockets, of Spikes could only boast one thing over him: they all did their job much more gracefully than he.
Not a Skulk, not a Lerk, not a Fade, not a Gorge; nobody ever stopped to look at him and say, "Dear Scrooge, how are you doing, would you care to come over and heal me sometime?" No res-dry Skulks implored him to build an RT, no Fade had ever Blinked to him for healing, no Kharaa at all ever asked him to Bile Bomb this place, or that place. Even the OCs, DCs, MCs and SCs seem to turn toward him with an eye (If such a thing could be said to exist on one) that seemed to say, "No Gorge at all is better than an evil Gorge, no sir!"
But Scrooge, what did he care! It was the very thing he invited. To plod his way through the hallways, warning all hearts to keep their distance.
Once, long ago, Scrooge sat busy in his res-whoring house. It was slimy, dank, dark, and all, and he could hear Skulks fighting outside, chomping their teeths in rebellion to the explosions of grenades.
The door to Scrooge's whoring-house was open so that he could keep an eye on his lerk clerk, who in a sad excuse for a vent was Spiking Marines and tallying up RFK. Scrooge had a very small and withered DC, but the lerk's DC was so small and helpless that it could barely fend off bugs. But he couldn't revive it, for where Scrooge could Healspray, he could not, and he knew full well that any mention of the deed would be the day that they parted. Therefore the clerk put on himself Regen, and tried to hold his own against the bullets, in which effort, not being a strong Kharaa, he could barely manage.
"A, merry Christmas, uncle! Hive save you!" chomped a cheerful mouth. It was the mouth of Scrooge's nephew, who dropped from the roof so quickly that it nearly surprised the old Gorge.
"Bah!" Scrooge Spit out. "Humparasite!"
This nephew of Scrooges, he had so dodged the bullets outside with fast Celerity, that he was quite hyper, his teeth unchipped and handsome.
"Christmas, a humparasite, uncle!" his nephew chomped out. "Surely you are not serious."
"I am," he Spat out. "Merry Christmas! What's there to be merry about? Humparasite, I say! You're poor enough."
"Come, then," his nephew chomped back cheerily. "Why must you be so grouchy? You have quite enough res."
There was no better answer that Scrooge could have Spit out just then but "Bah!" and "Humparasite," which he did.
"Aye, uncle, don't be so cross," the nephew chomped out.
"What else can I be, when I live here in this world with fools such as this Merry Christmas! What's Christmas time to you but a time for paying res, a time to find the marines another tech level higher, but not a time for whoring res?"
"Why uncle! It's a time for Biting, for Sporing, Stomping around, the only time in which us Kharaa can unite together and kindly help each other. I, for one, always look forward to this day, this day of giving, sharing, helping, a pleasant time!"
At this moment the lerk turned around and clapped his wings in approval, but quickly sank back to Spiking under Scrooge's glare.
"Don't be angry, Uncle! Come -- feast with us tomorrow!"
Scrooge Spat.
"But why?" the nephew cried out in chomps. "Why?"
"Why did you get married?"
"Because I fell in love! We shared our first evolution together!"
Scrooge Spat again. "Because you fell in love!" he stated as if it were an even more ridiculous thing than merry Christmas. "Good afternoon!"
"Aye, uncle, but you never came to see me before it happened. Why use it as a reason not to come now...?"
"Good afternoon," Scrooge simply stated.
"Can we not just be friends?"
"Good afternoon."
"I am deeply sorry to find you so unnerving. But I shall keep to the Christmas humour. Merry Christmas to you, Uncle!"
"Good afternoon!"
"And a happy New Year!"
"Good afternoon!"
Without and angry chomp or chuckle, his nephew quietly left. He stopped momentarily to wish the same to the clerk, who was in better spirits than Scrooge himself, returned the merry greeting. Scrooge snorted in disgust. Yet another fellow, this lerk and his res-dry family, talking about a merry Christmas.
That very fellow, in letting Scrooge's nephew out, in turn let two others in. Two chubby gorges, an interesting change of appearance, bowed with their stiff necks. They happened to be carrying with them webby, paper-like lists and webby books.
"Scrooge an Marley's, I believe," said one of the Gorges, referring to his list. "Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Fatty Scrooge, or Fatty Marley?" he inquired politely.
"Fatty Marley has been dead seven years past," Scrooge said. "Was blown to bits on this very night, I believe."
"Doubtless that his work has been carried on quite fairly by his partner," was the reply.
"At this time of the year, Fatty Scrooge, we feel is is quite desirable that we should make some provision for the res-dry, who suffer greatly at the time. Many thousands are in want of common upgrades, hundreds of thousands are in want of common evolutions, sir."
"Are there no marines to fight?"
"Plenty of marines to fight, sir."
"And the Gorging Workhouses?" demanded Scrooge. "They are still in evolution?"
"They are still," returned the Gorge. "I wish I could say they were not."
"The working and the RFK are still at full, then?"
"Both very high, sir."
"Oh! I was uncertain and afraid, at first, that something had prevented their course," said Scrooge. "Glad I am to hear it."
"Under the impression that they barely fill the cheer of the Hivemind or body of the multitude," the Gorge returned, "a few of us are endeavoring to raise a fund to buy Upgrades and evolutions, and some means of structures. We choose this time, because it is this time that marine feasting is keenly felt, and RFK rejoices. What shall I put you down for?"
"Nothing!" Scrooge replied.
-----------------------
So how was it so far? I know it's a huge parody but hey, this is one of my favorite Christmas stories ever.
Also check out my recent poem in the stickied "Kharaasmas" thread.
Comments
Scrooge Spat.
"But why?" the nephew cried out in chomps. "Why?"
"Why did you get married?"
"Because I fell in love! We shared our first evolution together!"
Scrooge Spat again. "Because you fell in love!" he stated as if it were an even more ridiculous thing than merry Christmas. "Good afternoon!"
"Aye, uncle, but you never came to see me before it happened. Why use it as a reason not to come now...?"
"Good afternoon," Scrooge simply stated.
"Can we not just be friends?"
"Good afternoon."
"I am deeply sorry to find you so unnerving. But I shall keep to the Christmas humour. Merry Christmas to you, Uncle!"
"Good afternoon!"
"And a happy New Year!"
"Good afternoon!"
Without and angry chomp or chuckle, his nephew quietly left. He stopped momentarily to wish the same to the clerk, who was in better spirits than Scrooge himself, returned the merry greeting. Scrooge snorted in disgust. Yet another fellow, this lerk and his res-dry family, talking about a merry Christmas.
That very fellow, in letting Scrooge's nephew out, in turn let two others in. Two chubby gorges, an interesting change of appearance, bowed with their stiff necks. They happened to be carrying with them webby, paper-like lists and webby books.
"Scrooge an Marley's, I believe," said one of the Gorges, referring to his list. "Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Fatty Scrooge, or Fatty Marley?" he inquired politely.
"Fatty Marley has been dead seven years past," Scrooge said. "Was blown to bits on this very night, I believe."
"Doubtless that his work has been carried on quite fairly by his partner," was the reply.
"At this time of the year, Fatty Scrooge, we feel is is quite desirable that we should make some provision for the res-dry, who suffer greatly at the time. Many thousands are in want of common upgrades, hundreds of thousands are in want of common evolutions, sir."
"Are there no marines to fight?"
"Plenty of marines to fight, sir."
"And the Gorging Workhouses?" demanded Scrooge. "They are still in evolution?"
"They are still," returned the Gorge. "I wish I could say they were not."
"The working and the RFK are still at full, then?"
"Both very high, sir."
"Oh! I was uncertain and afraid, at first, that something had prevented their course," said Scrooge. "Glad I am to hear it."
"Under the impression that they barely fill the cheer of the Hivemind or body of the multitude," the Gorge returned, "a few of us are endeavoring to raise a fund to buy Upgrades and evolutions, and some means of structures. We choose this time, because it is this time that marine feasting is keenly felt, and RFK rejoices. What shall I put you down for?"
"Nothing!" Scrooge replied.
Keep it up, gekigarion!
i'd agree on the readability part though, i'd better just hold off writing small chunks at once and writing it all out at the same time.
well, it's supposed to be finished by Christmas, and that's not long off, so i should be pumping this story out a lot faster soon enough. <!--emo&:p--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/tounge.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='tounge.gif'><!--endemo-->
Thanks for the compliments guys!
Very please am I to be reading this, very pleased indeed!
Keep up the good work and rejoice in your fine work good sir!
<!--emo&::gorge::--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/pudgy.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='pudgy.gif'><!--endemo--> <scrooge
Er, guess I'll try and get at least to chapter 4. I probably can't kill myself writing 2x that much in 2 days again <=[
Hope you had a Merry Christmas, and have a happy New Year!
Truth be known, i'm not at my house as of now, and as much as I'd like to post the story, I regret to say that I don't really feel like rewriting it up. I won't be home until a long time (Exchange student, here), so I'll try my best to get the story rewritten.