Spanner -- Thank you so much for the compliment to the story! X3 I never thought I'd get a review, really. >D And soon, Skeithy will be a house-hold word!
Zazie the Beast -- Thanks for loving the story. ^-^ And yup, I did notice that mistake with the words in the first chapter, but I can't fix it now, I'd have to re-upload the entire thing. o_o'' So, it stays. But thanks for pointing that out.
Stone -- ^_^ I'm glad my parody isn't one of the bad ones. Thanks for the compliment.
You're all great! :D I shower you with cookies!
But now on to why you're all here. Chapter two!
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The Skeith Who Stole Christmas! Chapter: Two
They'd sing! And they'd sing! And they'd SING! SING! SING! SING!
And the more the Skeith thought of this Whole-Christmas-Sing,
The more the Skeith thought, "I must stop this whole thing!"
"Why, for more than two years I've put up with it now!
"I MUST stop this Christmas from coming! BUT HOW?!"
Lately, Skeith had begun to grade his days in various degrees of 'suck'. Yesterday had moderately sucked. The day before had been breezy with a light chance of sucking. But today, today was off the charts. As he paced around the rooftop pondering this, Maha happily drew pictures of the Christmas variety upon the slate. It was currently using Skeith's staff to carve Rudolph next to an intricately decorated sleigh. Behind the sleigh was the kind of background Thomas Kinkade would have gaped at. Wonderful Fir trees, decorated with tinsel and small spherical ornaments created a background fit for a holiday paradise. Maha had always been the artistic type.
Skeith floated over and eyed the carving as if it were infectious. "You're very low for morale, Maha." He added, rather morose about the illustration in general. He grabbed his staff back from the cat and went to lacerate the face of the cheery-eyed Santa in the corner. Poised above it like a man preparing to carve a Christmas-day ham, he raised the staff...
Then he got an idea! An awful idea! The Skeith got a WONDERFUL, AWFUL idea!
...And abruptly stopped his proposed mutilation of everyone's favorite fat gentleman. Maha meanwhile had been trying to stop him, even going to lengths to cover the carving with its body. Van Gogh suffered for his art, why shouldn't it? Though it would be losing considerably more than an ear. It winced up at the Terror of Death. "...!"
Could he have grinned a murderous grin he would have. "I've decided to spare your childish etching, feline." He practically purred, the staff moving about ten feet away from its' intended target. "For you see..."
"I know just what to do!"The Skeith laughed in his throat.
"And I'll made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat!"
He looked around for fabric and, for that matter a sewing machine. This was a knot in his plans. "Hm." He glanced at his genderless companion. "I'm at a loss. Where did you get your clothing?"
"..." It replied.
"I don't have enough money to go to a department store." He scratched at his head, looking around as if some solution would present itself.
Down below, Moonstone watched the festivities with something less than the enthusiasm of the dead. He crossed his arms and fingered the crimson fabric that he had chosen for his avatar. "Stupid." He finally murmured, glaring at a newly hung stocking.
Maha, peering over the mortar and brick of the rooftop, observed the bright red that was Moonstone's attire. The fellow didn't have a hat, but Skeith really didn't need matching pants anyhow. Grinning enigmatically, it hovered over to its comrade, dragging him by the armored arm to point and gesture down at the quiet twinblade.
"Eh?" His head tilted towards the cat and his non-existent eyes narrowed. "You want me to mug him of his clothing?"
It nodded.
"Why, that's despicable, Maha! A disgusting thing to think about doing! Why, the poor boy wouldn't stand a chance against the two of us, and if anything he would be left quaking in terror!"
A sublimely evil chuckle followed. "I love the way you think."
And so, Maha floated down about 20 feet away from the crowds. It looked about for some means to attract Moonstone's attention; a small, pixilated pebble looked up to the task. Grasping the object in its palm, she wound up like a pitcher and let it fly.
Thock! He growled and quickly pivoted around, ready to attack his tormentor. "Pain." He snapped, glaring at the purple and ivory feline, which was currently making rude hand gestures to him. "Doom!" He snarled in warning to it, raising one blade before charging.
A mute squeak and a great deal of drifting later, Maha had led the poor twin blade down the alley next to the Mac Anu magic shop. Stepping out of the shadows like the Terror of Death epithet he was known for, Skeith simply knocked Moonstone over the head. "...Surprise." Was all the twin blade was able to muster before the lights went out.
Quick as a flash they made off with his attire. Both the Phase and the cat floated back up to their rooftop giggling like schoolchildren, albeit one mutely.
And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Skeithy trick!
"With this coat and this hat, I look just like Saint Nick!"
He modeled in front of his only companion. "So, do I look Christmas-y enough to fool old Wenceslas himself?"
Maha only made a giggling face and clapped its hands together, delighted. Skeith ran a scan through his own mental checklist of 'Things to do to Look like Santa and Fool the Stupid Mortals'.
"All I need is a Grunty..." The Skeith looked around.
But, since Grunties are scarce, there were none to be found.
Did that stop the old Skeith...? No! The Skeith simply said,
"If I can't find a Grunty, I'll make one instead!"
It definitely didn't like the sound of that. Not at all! A fearful look replaced the giddy one as the cat began to back away from its grinning, red-clad companion, who held in one claw red string, and in the other the head off a Golden Grunty.
"Now don't make this difficult, fuzzball."
"...! ...! ...!"
So he tackled his friend Maha, then he took some red thread
And he tied the fake Grunty plush on the top of its head.
Then He handed it some bags, and an old empty sack
To use on their item raid to carry on its back.
The Phase grinned, "Now it begins! My plan to-" Maha hushed him; he made the face of a scolded child. It pointed down to the streets of the Aqua Capital, where many had let their game idle as they went AFK to sleep. Next to each were stockings and boxes where, by the miracle of moderators and technology, gifts would go to greet the players once they resumed a less-idle state. "Rrgh. Fine." He snapped to his makeshift Grunty. "Now it begins!" He whispered to the sky (but mostly himself), "My plan to ruin Christmas for all the noisy jerks who ruin my life! I'll steal their Christmas and make them rue the day they crossed blades...and staffs and stuff...with the Terror of Death!"
Maha wondered to itself why Skeith made this difficult. Couldn't he just data-drain the whole lot of them? Perhaps he found this sort of revenge a bit more fun. It shrugged. Evil villains made such a drama of it all...
Then the Skeith whispered, "Giddap!" And they both started down
Toward the streets where the players stood AFK in their town...
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R/R. Next Chapter: Thievery runs rampant as Skeith does his dirty work. Stay tuned!