#buy this please i need moneh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thegreatnyehehe · 7 years

Text

A Winter Veil Carol: Part 3

Well, children, now that this old fuddy-duddy has seen his past, and perhaps the error of his wicked ways, he’ll turn over a new leaf! Our hero- er… villain…? Oh, whatever he is, that next spirit is sure to rear his face any moment! Aren’t you excited, children? …

No? Really? Oh, well, I’m invested somewhat, at least! Now, let’s see how this “The Great Nyehehe” fellow is doing, shall we?

After a few moments after the second bell had rung, The Great Nyehehe was still in a fetal position, his eyes shut tight but still freshly wet. Muttering and grumbling to himself of stupid spirits and that dratted Winter Veil, perfectly content to do so for the rest of eternity, he was interrupted by a booming roar of laughter and the phrase “Come up, and know meh betteh, lad!”

Begrudgingly opening his eyes, he looked around and saw that he was no longer in his old home in Brill, but in a warm inn of Elwynn architectural style boasting a magnificent feast. Pumpkin pie, roast Pig, Pandaria dumplings, all manners of soups and salads, various fruits, some glazed bread, kegs full of beer and ale, wine and bourbon, and countless other delectable delights surrounded him. Unfortunately, The Great Nyehehe despised most mortal food, finding it to be beneath him and allegedly favored mortal souls and ‘the blood of his enemies’, and took only a passing glance at it, for he was more distracted by the hulking figure sitting infront of him: the most gigantic dwarf he had ever seen.

Despite his imposing stature, his bushy beard, well-meaning face, and slight pudginess would lesson his intimidation somewhat for most people, but The Great Nyehehe only found his jolly features infuriating and thoroughly suspicious. Even sitting down, he had to tilt his head up just to see the spirit’s jolly face.

“Come, and know meh bettah, lad!” boomed the gigantic dwarf, “Look upon meh! Yeh’ve nevah seen the likes ‘o me b’fore! Har har!”

“The Great Nyehehe never has before, and he would have preferred for it to have stayed that way!! Bah!!” barked the old fool.

“Yer complaint is noted, but I, the Spirit ‘o Winteh Veil Present-”

“Present?” interrupted Nyeh rudely, “Is The Great Nyehehe getting some gumptious gift for all this afterall? He better be, lest this all be merely a wiley waste of time!! Bah!!”

“Yer only reward will be yer redemption, yeh fool! Now lemme speak!”

“Redemption!?! That’s The Great Nyehehe’s present!?! Bah!!” he moaned.

“Shush! I’ll be showin’ yeh Azeroth durin’ Winter Veil, how it changes each frown teh a smile and each enemy a brothah! ‘S a wondehful time ‘o year, truleh!”

“The Great Nyehehe knows very well of what Winter Veil does to mortals!! How this foolishly feel-good season melts every villain’s heart of ice, how it forces even the most foul of fiends to give generously and be merry!! How he loathes it so!!”

“Yeh, well, we’ll see how yeh changed by the end ‘o it anyway! Come, grab me robe! Know meh bettah, lad!” firmly demanded the spirit.

“The Great Nyehehe definitely shan’t.” protested Nyeh, muttering.

“Do et, you miserly moron!“ the spirit roared. Knowing that he’d have to get this half-witted haunting over with, he muttered something under his breath bitterly as he held onto the spirit’s robe. There were no more bright flashes or nauseating feelings, for the spirit simply snapped his fingers, and they were elsewhere.

Nyeh blinked, and in a moment they were in a down-trodden, dirty ghetto, its grey smoke filling the air, industrial wonders, and the occasional sound of an explosion clearly defined it as a goblin neighborhood. Though the house beside them was rather shabby, and seemed prone to falling over at any moment, it was, in the least, decently-well decorated for the Winter Veil season.

“What is this place, spirit?” inquired Nyeh, thoroughly befuddled.

“This is the home ‘o yer most hard workin’ but pooe’rest accountant, Bozo Cratchcrank! Surely yew’ve visited b’fore?” the spirit boomed.

“Accountant? The Great Nyehehe employs no accountants in his wicked works of dastardly deeds!! Obviously!!”

“Yew employ hundreds ‘o em! How do yeh suppose all tha’ moolah yer Bilgewater Cartel makes is handled, Gallywix?”

“Gallywix?”

“Ach! I forgot! Yer not Jastor Gallywix, roite? Consarn et! I had all these scenes set up fer ‘em, too! Ach… what’d they say yer name was? ‘The Good Nyohoho’, roite?”

“That’s The Great Nyehehe to you, you bearded buffoon!! Bah!!”

“Roite, well, the Cratchcranks are some ‘o the kindest, sweetest, and sappiest folks ‘round, so they should at least show yeh somethin’ ‘o compassion!”

“The Great Nyehehe severely doubts that.”

A goblin in a rather shabby suit came walking down the lane, his son limping beside him, relying on his cane. The spirit smiled at their upcoming presence, “Ah, there’s Bozo an’ his boy, Tiny Tib, now!”

“Oh, papa! I can’t wait for the Winter Veil oatmeal!” chirped Tiny Tib optimistically.

“I’m sure your mother’s cooking it now, son! Now, let me just get my keys…” said Bozo as he rummaged through his mostly empty pockets for his keys.

“Mama!” piped up one of the Cratchcrank daughters, whom were so identical and so trivial plot-wise that, for these reasons, shall remain nameless. “When is daddy and Tiny Tib getting home?” the other shrugged.

“Your father and Tiny Tib are probably still out at church. Sister Goldskimmer oughtta be giving a rousing sermon on selflessness and generosity. Nevermind that I saw her swipe some of the moolah donated to help out that portion of Kezan that’s still on fire from that blasted black dragon from years ago! Now, you girls watch your manners for Winter Veil, and stay patient!” nagged Ms. Cratchcrank.

There was a clanking sound, and the copper door swung open with a screech. Out strolled in Bozo and Tiny Tib cheerily.

The phrase “Merry Winter Veil!” and various hugs and kisses were exchanged throughout the family, all very delighted to see eachother.

“Merry Christmas, dear! How wa Tiny Tib at the Sermon?” inquired Ms. Cratchcrank as she pecked her husband on the cheek.

“Oh, as good as moolah and better!I’m so glad now that I’m with you all!” laughed Bozo, “As long as we can all celebrate Winter Veil together, I’m perfectly content with the life I’ve been gifted. Merry Winter Veil, honey.”

“Mama, Papa, is the Winter Veil Oatmeal ready yet?” asked Tiny Tib preciously.

“Oh, so it is!” snickered Ms. Cratchcrank, “Let’s eat!”

“The Great Nyehehe understands not… why are they all so loving and happy, almost irritatingly so, when they have so little? They seem so pleased with themselves, but they don’t seem to have even a single dastardly deed among them!! The Great Nyehehe sincerely doubts if they’ve ever even schemed up any evil plots to conquer the world!! How could they possibly be happy, spirit?” inquired Nyeh, hopelessly confused.

“Har har! Yeh truly got lots ‘o learnin’ ahead ‘o yeh! Yeh don’t need things like moneh or… the world, in yer case, teh be happeh!” roared the spirit in laughter.

“Such delicious oatmeal this ought to be!” squealed one of the Cratchcrank girls, the other cheering in agreement, as the family of five sat down to dine.

“Wait a second…” paused Ms. Cratchcrank, peering up and down the tabel searchingly, “Where’s the special Winter Veil cinnamon and sugar? Bozo?” Her expression of surprise turned to slight bitterness. “Did you forget to buy it?” she nagged.

“Oh, I forgot, we couldn’t afford it this year, I’m afraid. As Mr. Gallywix hasn’t had the time to pay me any Winter Veil bonuses for tasty spices or for our dear Tiny Tib’s medicine he so dearly needs.” apologized Bozo with a shrug and a sigh.

“That’s alright, Papa! We don’t need things to have a wonderful Winter Veil as long as we have eachother!” piped up Tiny Tib, sounding slightly hoarse.

“Oh, such a smart boy! He’s right, kids. If only that slob of an employer of yours could just pay you adequately for all the work you do, Bozo.” sighed Ms. Cratchcrank.

“Oh, don’t say that, dear! Mr. Gallywix is a fine and upstanding goblin! He does all he can for me, I’m sure. If not for him, we wouldn’t be having any of this at all! Mr. Gallywix is the founder of the feast, after all!” protested Bozo,

“Oh, I suppose you’re right. Sorry, dear.” sighed Ms. Cratchcrank with a soft smile, “Merry Winter Veil, all!” Another round of “Merry Winter Veils!” were lovingly exchanged by all at the dinner table.

“Merry Winter Veil, everyone!” hooted Tiny Tib quotably, before he keeled over, erupting into a fit of harsh coughing and slight spasms.

“Tiny Tib!” shrieked Mrs. Cratchcrank as she and Bozo jumped up from their chairs to aid him.

“There there, son. Just go and sit on your stool by the Winter Veil tree and your sickness will calm down. There there…” murmured a very distressed Bozo as he and his wife helped him walk to his stool, “Just got a bit too excited was all…”

“Nyeh? The goblin child is sick?” asked a befuddled Nyeh as Tiny Tib coughed into his hand repeatedly.

“Yep, ‘fraid teh say. The quack doctor ‘round here says it’s some weakeh form ‘o tha’ Corrupted Blood sickness from years ago. Has teh have a cane just teh get ‘round.” the spirit explained grimly.

“Oh… Nothing could be done for the boy…?”

“Nah, I can’t meself. The medicene’s awfully hard teh get, yeh know.“ sighed the spirit, depressed that even he could not help the poor child.

“Tell The Great Nyehehe this, spirit,” Nyeh stammered out sorrowfully, “Will the boy live?”

“I see a vacant seat ‘a tha’ table, and a crutch withou’ an owneh, carefulleh preserved. If these shadows remain unalteh’d by the future, the child will die.”

“Nyet!! Nyet!! That can’t be so, The Great Nyehehe shan’t allow it!!’ shouted Nyeh fiercely.

“His fate is not yours teh decide. Come, you have seen enough for now.”

“The Great Nyehehe desires to stay!! Why can’t he celebrate with these Cratchcranks!?!” barked Nyeh, stomping the ground childishly.

“Touch my robe, you old fool!” demanded the spirit, his voice booming loudly.

After a long bit of mumbling and muttering, and a sad look to the Cratchcranks, The Great Nyehehe gave in and held the tip of the spirit’s robe with two fingers. He blinked, and suddenly he was no longer prying through the Cratchcrank’s window, seeing them comforting poor Tiny Tib or nibbling at their tasteless oatmeal, but instead the polished marble hall of the famed Stormwind Cathedral, decoratively scarcely for Winter Veil.

“Oh, drat!! Not this place!! The Great Nyehehe loathes the church!! He despises the Light!!” groaned Nyeh as he recognized his surroundings.

“And why would tha’ be? The Church ‘o Stormwind is a mighty fine place full ‘o great people! They fund orphanages an’ food drives fer the needy people ‘o Westfall, they aid in the recovereh ‘o the sick an’ the wounded, an’ their many courageous and devot’d paladins and priests have been combattin’ the forces ‘o evil fer generations! And the Light drives ‘em all to do so! What could yeh possibly hate ‘bout it?” asked the spirit earnestly.

“All those reasons, of course, but most importantly because these moronic mortals worship something other than The Great Nyehehe!! Why would they do that when The Great Nyehehe is right there!?! Bah!!”

“Er… Roite… Well, look up there, lad. See them folks on the benches?”

“Hmm? Oh, nyes, unfortunately. The Great Nyehehe sees them, and he seems that dratted Draenei who invited him to some stupid sermon!! Bah!!”

“Spot on, lad! Lets listen in, aye?” insisted the spirit with a snap of his fingers. With that, Nyeh could hear the worsshippers sitting on their benches perfectly fine, despite being quite a ways away. The Great Nyehehe didn’t care for whatever sort of mortal trickery or magick this was, put he held his tongue.

“Such a shame that Nai-hee-hee could not make it to the sermon! He would have loved being here, no?” sighed the Draenei to his fellow vindicator.

“I sincerely doubt that, exactly, but you are well aware of how he is. I don’t believe him to be a very religious man.” she replied with a shrug.

“It is not just that, you know, he does not seem to want to be merry at all during Winter Veil! He can be most standoffish, especially during Winter Veil. It is most sad.”

“He doesn’t seem to want to be merry any other time of year either.” she scoffed, “I have no pity for him.”

“Oh, but I do, friend! He believes goodness and Winter Veil to be so unlikable!” the Draenei lamented, “And who suffers from this? Not those he curses at on the street for their mere greeting of him with “Merry Winter Veil!” Not us! No, friend, he suffers all the pleasant moments that we share during this season, and all others! I give him the chance for friendship, and each time he refuses.”

“Oh, oh! Bishop Farthing is starting his sermon on the Light’s Love is starting!”

“*Ahem*” coughed Farthing into his fist, “Alrighty, guys, sorry to be so late! Had to go talk things over with some shadow priests at- er… I mean regular, Light-wielding priests. On to the sermon! During this busy Winter Veil season, let’s remember and give thanks to the Light! Do not turn from the Light’s embrace, do not shun its teachings like me, lest- er… I meant like the traitor Archbishop Benedictus! Yes, so be merry and joyous, but remember the Light and all we’ve sacrificed to use it to wield off the Legion! Alrighty, I’m done! I’ve got to run to Tirisfal Glades for something divine and unsuspicious! Merry Winter Veil, all! “

And with that, the Bishop rushed off the podium, an inconspicuous, loose, shadowy tentacle dropping out of his pocket as he ran down the Cathedral stairs.

“What a most wonderful speech, no?” chuckled the Draenei.

“Yes, very moving.” she agreed.

“If oly Nai-hee-hee could have been here. Come then, friend! Here’s to Nai-hee-hee!” boomed the Draenei as he raised his fist in the air, cheering.

“To Nyehehe!” half-heartedly cheered his Vindicator companion and a very confused group of nearby clergymen.

“Nyeh-heh-heh?” asked the befuddled Draenei vindicator, so used to his pronunciation due to his dialect, “Oh, nevermind! Come come, friends! Let us go prepare for the Winter Veil gifts for the Orphanage, yes?” And with that, the clergymen and crusaders swarmed into a side room to wrap and box the presents, chatting and chuckling cheerily on the way.

“Well? What do yeh think yeh learned ‘o that, lad?” asked the spirit as he nudged Nyeh’s side.

“The Great Nyehehe learned that that very familiar-looking buffoon of a bishop is absolutely awful at orating even the simplest of speeches. Bah.” Nyeh grunted.

“Well, I won’t say yer wrong, but the real thing teh note was tha’ folks care about yeh! They even like yeh once in a while, despite all yer horribleness and yer bad attitude!”

“Oh…?” mumbled Nyeh bewilderedly, actually taking half a moment to rethink his actions and the feelings of others before the spirit’s booming voice halted that train of thought.

“Well, ‘least yer thinkin’ a bit! Har har! Alrighteh, thas’ enough ‘o tha’, I guess. Come on, hold on teh me robe!” chuckled the spirit.

After one last glance to the halls of the Cathedral Church, Nyeh shrugged and held onto the spirit’s robe, firmly this time. In a blink of the eye, he was elsewhere. When he opened his eyes, the air was denser, the climate warmer, and much, much louder. Ironforge’s commons lied infront of him, all spurced up for Winter Veil. Goblins were peddling their wares beside a grand Winter Veil tree and a crowd of rosy-cheeked children of all races and their impatient parents were waiting eagerly to sit on Father Winter’s lap.

Rather than some young young dwarven boy or girl sitting upon Father Winter’s lap, however, was a hulking, bulking behemoth of a humanoid, a particularly chunky ogre. It blubbered out in a childish undercommon “Gorkrod wants a pony, and a footbomb, and a Gnomish radio, and a signed Elite Tauren Chieftains™ poster, and a dinosaur plush, and a Delxuse Hearhstone Board: Special Edition set, and a new motorbike, and a pirate ship all for myself, and a bongo set, and twenty cases of Kaja’Cola, and new battlegrounds, and…”

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!”

The Father Winter howled, “I’ll get yeh anythin’ yeh want, just git off meh legs!! Me bones are breakin’ under the pressure!!”

“This… er… wasn’t what I thought was gonna be goin’ on here, lad. Was gonna show yeh how magical a time ‘o year Winter Veil is for people, ‘specialleh the kiddos. Father Winter here was ‘sposed to be part of it, but tha’ ain’t happenin’.” the spirit muttered nervously.

“Nyet, nyet… The Great Nyehehe understands it. There’s no need to speak falsehoods. The Ogre is symbolic of even the least educated of Azeroth’s denizens understands the importance and the true goodness of Winter Veil. It’s a beautiful scene, nyet?” spoke Nyeh.

“Er… Right! Yer completely right! Har har!” laughed the spirit, trying his best to seem like that was the plan all along. “Now, we’ve got one last stop teh go. Touch my robe once more, and know me bettah, lad!”

The Great Nyehehe, almost unwontedly civil, held the spirit’s robe one last time. He blinked, and his surroundings were colder, darker, but more familiar. The Stormwind graveyard was chilly that night, a half-moon far above their heads, but the brick pavement was splattered with some of autumn’s last fallen leaves and was in need of raking.

The Great Nyehehe turned and looked up at the spirit, though he didn’t need to tilt his head nearly as high to see his face as before, taking a moment for studying his wrinkles, grayed hair, and lack of hair upon the top of his head, a feature they now both shared. The spirit looked back into his eyes sadly.

“Thought this would be an easy place to drop you off, so close to home and all.” the spirit explained hoarsely.

“Spirit… You look so old.” Nyeh spoke caustiously.

“Aye, I live a very short life indeed, I’m afraid. I must look five hundred years ol’ by now! Har har!” the spirit laughed, until that once vigorous laughter turned to a harsh cough, “The Present only takes place on the one day of the year, now don’t it?”

“What will happen to you tommorow, then?”

“I shan’t have a tommorow! I believe my time on Azeroth ends at the strike of three. Say, do yeh happen to have the time?”

The bell rang once, heard clearly from the top of the nearby Cathedral..

“Nyet!! Don’t go, spirit!! The Great Nyehehe has learned so much from you!!”

The bell rang twice, and the spirit’s form began to fade.

“And now, lad, I leave you with the Spirit ‘o Winter Veil Yet to Come… Go forth, and know him bettah, lad!”

“Spirit!!” the old fool shrieked.

The bell rang thrice now, and the spirit looked divinely peaceful, closing his tired eyes, as he faded to the wind.

And then, he was alone, sobbing and sniveling by himself in the graveyard.

#winter veil carol #winter veil #3/5 #holiday

22 notes · View notes

wildflower-of-the-west-blog · 6 years

Note

🌀 (Time for sads!)

Annabelle looked into the camp’s money box. There was a lot in it since Arthur robbed that coach a couple of days ago. Maybe she would take up his offer to buy a new dress. The clothes she had on were dirty and worn. Her shirt even had a couple of holes in it.

She grabbed about 600$. 300$ for supplies: ammo, food, booze, and soap. They really needed that. She liked it when the camp was full of supplies, though Dutch always complained when it was time to move again. The rest of the money would be put toward some new clothes. She headed off to town in a carriage.

…

Annabelle filled the carriage up to the brim with supplies. She bought so much she needed the help of the shopkeeper to carry it. As she was walking back and forth from the store to the carriage she noticed a couple of men staring at her. They were rough looking folk. One of them had an eye missing. The other, a much larger man, gave her a menacing smile with the couple of teeth he had left. She tried to ignore them and made sure not to make direct eye contact. She went into the tailors hoping that by the time she got out they would be gone.

“Madame, please leave your gun at the desk,” The tailor said.

“Yessir, here you go.” She placed her revolver on the table.

The tailor led her to the back room where she stripped down to her undergarments and waited for him to measure her.

The door opened and she turned around expecting to see the tailor. Instead, she was met with the ugly mugs of the men she had just seen outside.

“Who the hell do you two think you are!?” Annabelle yelled.

“The real question is, who do you think you are, little missy,” The one with the missing eyeball said.

They walked up so close to Annabelle she could smell them.

“We seen you befo’,” The one with no teeth explained.

“Seen you with that little gang of yers… Seen you with that young cowpoke.” The one with the missing eye said. “And we just seen him recently too, didn’t we Boyle?”

“Uh-huh,” the one named Boyle said. “He took moneh from Mr. Fallows. Made a huuuuge mistake.”

“And then we sees you. Comin’ into town with a smile as wide as a horse’s. Pockets overflowin’!” The one with one eye said. He pushed her up against the mirror.

“I don’t know what your talkin’ about,” Annabelle said through gritted teeth, “but if you don’t get your hands off of me this second. I will pull your liver out of your goddamn mouth.”

“Oohoohoo, I like this one Boyle, she’s got an attitude,” The one with the missing eye said. He licked her cheek with his black tongue. Annabelle broke his hold on her and cracked him right in the nose.

He reeled back, “You bitch! Boyle!”

Boyle was the stronger one. He lifted Annabelle up off the floor and threw her against the mirror, cracking it. He let go of her then kneed her in the gut. She tried to punch him but he caught her arm and punched her in the face. He kicked her legs out from under her, causing her to hit the floor with a loud thump. She tried to crawl toward the door, but the man with one eye put his dirty boot on her back, and pushed her into the floorboards.

“You really done it now, missy,” The man with one eye told her. “Boyle, bring the horses, we’ll take her back to Mr. Fallows. See what he wants to do with her.” Boyle left the changing room, and the man with one eye began to tie Annabelle’s hands behind her back. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “If it were up to me, you’d be dead right now.”

Annabelle didn’t hesitate, she whipped her head back and hit him again in his broken nose. He screeched and got off of her. She quickly wormed her way toward the door frame, pushed herself up against it and walked herself upright. The one eyed man lunged toward her. She kicked him and they both flew backward from the force. Annabelle slammed into the wall in the hallway. She quickly hobbled toward the door and out onto the street. She got up onto the carriage, picked up the reins with her teeth, and whipped the horses into action. She rode away as quickly as she could.

…

Annabelle’s head throbbed and her whole body ached, dried blood from her nose caked her night shirt and petticoat. One of her eyes had turned the shade of midnight. With only her teeth to guide the horses she rode in one direction. She begged god to help her, but when had he ever listened to her before? It was the middle of the night and she hadn’t seen a soul on the road.

After what seemed like hours, Annabelle saw a faint light flicker in the distance. She dropped the reins and began to scream.

“HEEEEELP! HEEEEELP ME PLEASE!”

The cowboy rode toward her, his stance seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite see his face. It was at that moment that Annabelle’s body decided that it was done fighting. She slumped off of the carriage’s perch and fell into the dirt.

“Help me.”

#finally done!#I loved and hated writing this #She's in bad shape #sorry it's so long lol #thearthurcallahan

0 notes