[treehugger]

If you’re like me then you’re sad to know how Oddworld inhabitants stopped making games. I made this fan fic to conclude the quintology. This is my first fan fic so be kind.


The Ballad
of
Fangus Klot

By treehugger


Prologue

Somewhere high in the sky, past Pluto, past the Milky Way, beyond a large green nebula deemed Fart, there’s an oddworld where a delicate balance tips. This “oddworld” has many odd creatures, differing from a one legged, one eyed meep to a greedy hand walkin’ Glukkon. Far longer than a really long tine ago, industry has ruled the world, cutting trees and damming rivers, industry has basically been screwing everything up. But the air seems to have changed to an atmosphere of fear and dread. Glukkons seen absentminded and panicked, hiring more and more security personnel.
Vykkers sharpen their fine surgical syringes, looking at the skies and muttering. Outlaws now are scrambled, trying to hit pay dirt with Glukkons since the sligs can no longer mate quickly enough to fill the demand. In nature, the air also has changed. Mudokens are congregating at the raisin’s cave, sharpening spears and mastering meditation.
A Gabbit and an estimated 150 Gabbit youths swim out of the great seas and swim through the Mongo River, ignoring all things, even food. At the same banks, a Steef stares at the horizon in mourning to loss of kin, unaware of the newt-like Grubbs stockpiling weapons behind him. Yes, something big is going down, something that will change to Oddworld’s tipping balance, but the question is which side will it give its favor?



Chapter One

“What is dis thing?” the Mudoken asked, continuing his steady poling with his walking stick. The “thing” in question had a lion head, clawed hands, fluffy feet, and a short stubby tail underneath a leather kilt. The thing was scrawny and a scar ran down the length of its right arm.
“Sal, if it aint a dame, I aint know what it is.”
Once again Sal, taking a brief break from poking, checked for boobs, not even a swollen nipple. “Cryin’ shame Burt,” Sal said continuing his poking. They continued this lovely conversation for another six hours.
Soon after, a Tomahawker marched up. “Yo! What up?” he said.
Sal and Burt looked up smiling, “Hey Bo is there a prob’?” Sal asked.
The Tomahawker shook his head regrettably. “While you meatheads were up here doing lord knows what, your entire meep herd was eater by hungry paramites!”
“Why do you think we’re up on this hill!?” Burt yelled. “Those demons ate the meep and wanted dessert!”
Sal nodded in agreement and added, “Besides, this thing is way more interesting.”
Bo finally took notice of the creature. “Man, that thing looks in a bad way, better get help.” Burt and Sal seemed disappointed.
“Do you have to?” they said.
“Why, of course, it’s our duty as gentlemuds,” Bo said and made a beeline for the village, but stopped for a minute. “Hey, does it have boobs?” Bo shouted.
“Not even a swollen nipple” Burt replies.
“What a shame.” Bo quickly turned and continued on his way.
“Spoil sport!” Sal muttered and continued his poking.

Where am I? was the first thing that came to mind. It was dark, really dark. The second observation was the stench. Hack, hack. So foul! It must be an invader torture chamber! Hack, oh odd, the stench!
“You’ll never get me to talk, you fart faces!” he screamed. “Oddworld will never surrender to a bunch of sorry sons of a ---.” Then he realized his eyes were closed. When he opened his eyes he realized that a green armpit was shoved in his face.
“See, I told ya my pits work better than any stinkin’ smelling salts,” the Mud said.
Another voice chimed in “Yeah, but smelling salts wouldn’t nearly suffocate someone! Did you see how green his face got? You’re a deathtrap!”
Suddenly, the first Mud looked at him. “Sorry, small discussions are so easy to get sidetracked, what’s you name?”
“Uh, Fangus.”
“Okay Mr. Fangus ---”
“Pulse.”
“Pardon?”
“My name is Fangus Pulse.”
“Er, right. Mr. Pulse you seem to have survived a large explosion.”
“Uhm, I don’t remember . . . wait! Oh odd . . . was someone with me? Pulse asked.
“Huh? No, you were found alone,” the Mud said shaking his head.
Pulse looked like he had been hit with 500 bolts. A tear trickled down his face. “Oh odd . . . not him . . . he couldn’t die . . . Oh odd . . .”
“Dude, are you okay? the Mud asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Pulse said. “But, I need to know something. Where am I?”
The Mud seemed puzzled. “Well, er, I think we’re in the village Mud Hole.”
Pulse seemed to suddenly look panicked. “Is Abe here?” he asked.
“Out by the docks. Why?”
“Take me there, quick!”
“It will be a few hours to get some earls to show up.”
“Alright, you!” The second Mud looked up, thankful to finally be noticed. “Tell everyone to go to the docks, this needs everyone’s attention.”
“Alright! I can finally wear my Paul Revere outfit!” He dashed into a closet, came out in the costume, and ran through the door with the cry “The British are coming, kidding! To the docks!”
The first Mud yelled outside for an earl chariot. “Hey,” the mud said, “while we wait how about some tea and crumpets?’
Pulse looked sick. “Odd, never again.”

Abe was impatient, he had sent a message to Munch that he needed to see him, it was top priority that he and his 150 godchildren should show up at Mud Hole. It’s time for the final strike against industry. The Gabbit has been 12 days late and now, some weirdo in a Paul Revere outfit told him somebody named Pulse wanted to see him. He currently waited with the other Mudokers to see this big announcement that was so important. Soon the earl chariot slowly parked in front of the crowd. The chariot’s door flew open and a strand lion-headed creature came out. Lionhead, a.k.a. Pulse, walked forward, standing at a position at the front of the crowd. Despite the explosion the only real damage was his scar (his family always was strong boned).
“Mudokens of Mud Hole, you’re in danger.” Murmurs of disbelief rippled through the crowds. “In two days immoral beasts know as the Invaders will attack Mud Hole. And, if you don’t prepare they’ll kill you all!” Abe couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“How do we know we can trust you?” a Mud from the crowd yelled.
“This could be a Glukkon trick!”
“I’m not lying!” Pulse yelled.
“Then how did you meet them?”
“Well, it’s a long story and I’m not sure if we have the time to . . .”
“Come on we don’t have anything better to do.”
“Well . . . alright, but this isn’t really my story, it’s my brother’s, Fangus Klot. Our story begins in Fangustan. Yeah, that would be where it began.”

And so starts The Brutal Ballad of Fangus Klot.



I hope you enjoyed chap 1. the next chapter will be posted IF you write some reviews.

Copyright 2006 by TDG