Welcome all
If you look carefully through each chapter you'll find old western slang. Yep, exciting isn't it?
Also whoever can guess which actual language Feoa's name is from shall get to make up a character that shall be in one of the chapters! Send me a private messsage of your answer.
Disclamer--I do not own OddWorld
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The loner huffed and puffed as she chased after Stranger. Thankfully she didn't get hit by any bullets, well at least she didn't think so. Her adrenaline was pumping too loudly in her blood for her to take inventory of any hurt.
The vinegar in her life water wasn't settling down either as she hunted Stranger down by his scent and footprints alone. Wasn't that little shit head surprised when he saw Spade had found his little hidey hole. Thinking of losing her by hanging out at that Farmer Joes place pretending to be a security guard. But now she was on him like flies to sleg poop. Too bad he was a much more proficient runner then Spade was. He already was around the bend and gone when Spade exited the farm with laser bullets sending her off.
It didn't bother her too much though. Stranger had left a mighty fine trail for her to follow through the narrow canyon.
Running as far her poor empty belly would allow, Spade slowed to a trot. She fished out a opple from one of the many secret pockets on the inside of her trench coat and bit into the tangy juiciness. The opple wasn't too bad except it had worms in it, but Spade had eaten worst then a few worms. She ate several more opples and by the last opple she started to like how the warm nutty chewy flavor of the worms complemented the crisp tang of the opple.
Now that Spade's most basic need was attended to she took a pit stop behind a rather large Joshua tree to satisfy another. After her bladder was empty and her gut full she started along merrily to the next town despite her lack of a bounty.
She even started to day dream about how she would get Stranger on the Bounty list if he had already cashed in her bounty, which Spade was very sure of he would do because of his undeniable ass-faced nature would dictate so. She would then track him down and cash him into a Jail where his cell mate would pound him in the anus everyday.
Oh what a wonderful world that would be.
She smiled pleasantly to herself and felt better then she had for long time.
Abruptly a large town unfolded itself in front of Spade right quick. It had three to four story tall buildings and sprawled out like a mess of outlaw settlements crammed into a crack in the earth. It was the biggest town Spade had ever seen and it made her nervous, spoiling her happy moments.
She strolled in to the town in the most bad-ass swagger she knew to cover up for the weak weak feeling of insecurity. Clackers stumbled out of her way and she felt more confident.
She shoved a Clacker out of her path and felt stronger. She growled where to find the bounty store and Clackers stuttered to answer.
Spade felt better.
Entering the Bounty Store which was similar to the one from the last town except a little more well to do. She ambled up to the counter and asked if a certain Booty was dropped off by a certain fat head.
"Ya actually tis bloke called Stranger jest came by from Gizzards Gulch " The Clerk said scratching his lice infested head.
Spade smiled widely. "Wells then, I gots another ittle addition ter yer 'ounty list. Stranger is a dreadful bunko artist and you should get a wiggle on about it"
The Clacker shrugged. "He aint done noting wrong" He still scratched his head furiously.
Spade raised a brow trying to remain cool at this new rising indignity. "Wat ter mean?"
"Ohs is dat I checked wit Gizard Gulch yesterday and ay said tat Stranger should be bringing a bounty wit him." That Claker scratching started to annoy Spade, along with everything else the clacker was doing. The way he half closed his eyes as if Spade wasn't important, his stupid baseball hat, and especially thaaaaaaaaaattttt awwwfffuuulll scrrraacccthhhing.
"Well arent ya in cahoots with Strangar? Close as ter left and right buttcheeks arent ya" Spade jeered, eyes narrowing to slits. "I aint gonna have any of it. So don't pass yer buck and put that narky mudsill on tat 'ounty list so tats I's can bring his sorry hide in."
The Clacker tried to be calm and collected but his nature was chicken so he tremoring a bit. "Sorry miss'un but of ya don't calm yer ass down I'm gonna call fer back up." He manage to get out bravely which impressed Spade. The small town Clackers were a right bunch of cowards, but apparently these city slickers had a bit more game to them.
She grumbled not seeing what more arguing and being thrown out would do. Stranger had cashed in her bounty and the idiot Clacker refused to put him on the list.
What a world.
What a effing ridiculous world that hated Spade.
Spade stomped out of that nightmare Bounty Store and searched for a saloon to drown her sorrows in. It took some time and frustration to find the damn thing, but she soon found the "Who-hit-John?" pub, her new best friend.
She strutted on in and liked the place immediately. It had ceiling to floor wood paneling. It was an old building with two stories to it and it was grey and sagging. Just like home.
The bar was grimy and the occupants even more so, but all of them were as full as ticks to take to much notice of Spade. Soon enough Spade would join them in their stupor. Most bars had a fellowship of local drinkers who would accept anyone into their clan if the individual in question had the genes for the affinity of all spirits. This community of Boozers would be one big happy family to brawling archenemies in the blink of an eye when the mood persists. Though oftentimes they enjoyed kicking the crap out of each to forming any lasting alliance.
Spade took a seat near the bartender. The trick to impress the bartender was to order the hardest liquor they offered, then they eventually might give you some free drinks. So Spade did this, the hardest liquor fortunately was the cheapest vilest stuff. So she didn't waste her few mulah. Spade thrust her bandana off and moved the shot glass to her pale lips.
The alcohol burned her gullet powerful as it slithered down. She slammed the first dirty glass clean. She demanded more of the dish water looking booze, occasionally washing it down if some water. Soon her vision blurred and she slurred her words. The bartender was doing his job well as he listened to Spades recent woes, ever pouring more liquid into Spades cup. She smiled crookedly at the mean old looking thing the bartender was.
"Yu's knooooowwwwwwssss war't? I tink I'ves gots te mawst gawd arwful luuck in here around parts." She waved her arm lazily. The bartender nodded.
"I's MEAN what ist tat Strangar anywho? Puhlawse somting gots stuck ups her I's means his arse" Spade couldn't even follow her own train of thought, but she got the suspicion that everything she said was absolutely right. She sagged forward trying to sort her thoughts that evaded her. She leaned to forward too much and lost her balance. She toppled over kicking wildly as if someone pushed her.
She got up hastily and nodded the bartender ado. "I's needs ter check up on me……..uuuhh……potatoes" she mumbled. The bartender spoke for the first time Spade had met him. " Ar yer da git who fergot ter rifle at Gizzard Gulch?"
Spade nodded solemnly. He threw her precious rifle at her. Spade delayed reactions caused the rifle to impale her stomach, she almost fell over again.
"Were ter yer get tis?" Spade grunted her poor brain on over load on how the gun got here before she did. The bartender shrugged and Spade noticed that he wasn't a Clacker. Her brain was too foggy to tell what he was so she hobbled out of the pub for fresh air.
She used her rifle as a crutch.
--
Feoa was excited.
This year she was old enough to go to Homecoming. Homecoming was when all the outlaw raiders came back to their home settlements to pay respect to their mothers and sisters. You had to be a tenner to go.
Which Feoa was, a bran spakin new double digit migit.
She would also get to meet her father and granpappys and uncles. She was nervous though, on how ugly she was. She tried not to be too bothered by it though, today was a joy day, a feast day, a beautiful day. So she went about her chores for that day getting her Ma, Granny, and finally herself prepared to greet the men in the center of the settlement. It was still dark as she helped Granny down the stairs that creaked more than usual under the strain of Granny.
"I's swur tis id day last yer I gos te dis bastard Humcuming" Granny huffed, completely drenching Feoa in sweat. She always said that every year. Though Feoa never considered it lying.
Feoa gently deposited Granny on a sturdy chair that granny overflowed with her flub. The sun was just rising through a shattered window making the whole house look horrible. This time of day made the house seem more empty and pitiful. There should have been a whole slew of children crowded in the room clambering around to touch their big sister that would be the first of them to go to Homecoming. It was just Feoa and granny though. Their house was a sad house.
"Granny Butt'r Ball how many husbands docha got" Feoa asked idle, trying to fill the silence that was supposed to be filled with screams and giggles. Granny breathed a bit on Feoa, she was more sweaty then usual because she had to were her bed cloth dress today.
"I's used ter har sixxy herbands, fours getted jilled though. Had twelveed chiljun by dem, five died so fur." She told Feoa in her rusting tilting voice. Feoa grunted, she knew that the five that died were all her aunts, her only blood-aunts. She did have one blood aunt but she was in another settlement.
Sugar Ma came bustling in, decked out in her finest. She herded Feoa and granny out and to the Middle Square. The progress to middle Square was slow, granny had to stop every few minutes to wheeze and mutter a curse before they could move on. Feoa would doge ahead and back urging Granny on.. She couldn't wait to get to the festivities that she could already hear. Other families walked by nodding to Granny and Ma but they ignored Feoa. Feoa didn't care though, today was too exciting for her to notice the usual resentment of the outlaw community.
The Streets were bursting with color, every buildings occupants decorated their buildings with whatever bright and shiny thing that they owned. Dyed paper and strings waved to Feoa, pots and pans clamored in the slight breeze, Bed sheets tied into ropes crisscrossed the settlement like streamers. This was a stark contrast to the week before homecoming. The tradition was for everyone to be gloomy and drab for this week because it was supposedly when everyone was mourning the absence of the raiders the most. Then the night before homecoming everyone decorates and such to welcome home the raiders. It was a very grand time.
Feoa gasped as she spied the writhing mass of outlaws dancing and embracing and making music. She strained to pick out one of the raiders that could be her very own Pa. Was he big and strong or small and quick? Could he be a Gang leader? Would her Ma squeal at the sight of her husband? Will he gather Feoa up and exclaim what a fine child she was? Daddies little girl. Feoa bounced on her heels as she walked painful slow with Granny and Ma to Middle Square.
Ma picked up her pace. Did she see Pa? Feoa tugged granny along to keep up with Ma as they enter the crowd of people. Ma bulldozed ahead her bulging eyes set on something, Feoa tried to thread threw the mob behind her. She lost Ma though and saw just a glance of a raider she was barking at. A cowering arrogant grunt. He tried to cow Ma by threateningly pushing her. Ma wouldn't have any of it, the grunt was so much comically smaller then Ma that she could just sit on him and win a fight.
Granny started to pull Feoa away towards a platform that was erected by some youth. Feoa was dragged along as Granny picked up steam.
"ohs ze edler iz cuming up tat bazturd, Hes only beeted me's bie's one yer" Granny growled. This perked Feoa's interests away from seeing her Pa. The elder was the oldest outlaw and was the leader of a settlement. The elder decided who would what and children would be when they were old enough. Soon Granny was a wobbling snow ball of dough waddling her way up to the front of the gathering crowd.
Granny settled Feoa in front of her and slapped her little clawed hands on Feoa's shoulders. "Yer wetch nuw" Granny cooed. The outlaw crowd quieted as a shriveled old form limped his way to the middle of the platform with his young pretty boy helper. The Elder was a scrap of hunch over wrinkled leather. His skin was no longer a johndus yellow but a deep crackling brown. His dark eyes were obscured with folds of withered skin. A puff of sparse downy white hair covered his scalp and chin. He spoke barely above a whisper. It was the helper's job to sing out every word the Elder said.
The Elders Helper was an young outlaw that Feoa had seen around with the kiddie gangs a few years ago. His name was Joe Mole and he was the most beautiful boy Feoa had ever saw. He was a tall muscled thing, with a fierce jaw and deep set hazel eyes. Of course every other gal had a crush on him, flirting with the would be Gang leader was amazing fun. That all dissipated though, as soon as Joe was chosen as the Elder's helper, he was off limits. Helpers were Elders bed warmers and no one else's. Until the Elder died that is.
"Welcome Home Raiders" Joe interpreted. He amazed the crowd with his proper language of the rich. Everyone puffed out their chests in pride.. " It is a joyful time of Year when we can welcome back the rest of the family" Joe meant this quite literally, everyone was related somehow in the settlement. Incest wasn't uncommon.
" We will grow on the bounty you have brought us." The mob chuckled at that.
"We hope that you took a proportion for you brave noble hardworking souls." The raiders nodded grinning and hollering. The Helper went on yelling about how good and regal the Raiders were for awhile. It bored Feoa but pleased the raiders. Finally Joe said something interesting.
"The Music Maker is dying" Joe sang mournfully. Feoa gasped, she had heard the Music Maker only once and it was beautiful, even more so then Joe. Feoa had heard thumping and the soulful ditties that she heard the mothers sing, but the Music Maker played a wonderful contraption called an instrument. He would pluck at the strings in such a way that sound came out. He arrange the sound so it was music. It was angelic.
"The Music Maker therefore has asked the Elder to chose an apprentice for him" Joe Mole continued on. When someone was dying it didn't necessarily mean that they were about to die. It meant that the outlaw has reach a time of their life that they should die a natural death relatively soon. Granny was declared dying about five years ago, she was still alive and kicking though. Dying was outlaw retirement.
The crowd broke out noisily exclaiming that their own child was perfect for the next Music Maker. The Elder calmed them with a wave of his twig arm and murmured something to Joe. Feoa looked around quickly trying to figure out who she knew would be the next apprentice. Was it Betsy? No She had sausage fingers. Ron or Torn? No no, not enough of a attention span. Billy? Maybe, Feoa thought disgusted. The little Git didn't deserve the honor. It wasn't Feoa's choice though.
The outlaws had picked up their voice again, complaining at Joe. His voice thundered in answering "THE ELDER HAS MADE HIS CHOICE NAW ALLS YA SHAT TA HELL UP" The Crowd was silenced.
The old prune Elder made his careful way to the very edge of the platform. He looked at every Outlaw, with his black marble eyes. He looked through them, seeing wether or not they had the music. He swept the crowd and found Feoa. His eyes lingered and he said one rasping wind word that only Feoa could hear "You".
Joe then Thundered "UGLY FEOA SHALL BE THE NEXT MUSIC MAKER. HER MUSIC SHALL BE AS BEAUTAFUL AS SHE IS HIDEOUS." Joe paused for dramatic effect. "THE ELDER HAS DECREED IT SO"
Granny squished Feoa in a fit of pride. Ma came running and squished Feoa too, in a Bear hug. The finally Pa came and gathered her up in his bulking arms. "Ims saa broud of ya gurl" He resonated from deep with in his chest.
"Papa" Feoa squeaked. Her mind now in a haze of happiness.
"Naw gurl, I'ms ya Uncle" Uncle said. Feoa looked at him and he didn't really look like a outlaw. He didn't look like anything. So he could have been everything. Even Pa.