This is a fan fic based around Stranger's Wrath. It's meant to be a comedy thing. I'll post each chapter seperately, simply because it's easier for readers and stuff. So please don't flame me for double posting at first...
note: "!_S_T_E_E_F_!" is a line break; not all places I posted this used "*" so I had to make someting with letters.
Anyway, here's the first chapter:
Oddworld Fan Fic:
Steefie’s Charge
Chapter One:
Enter Steefie
Everyone around the Mongo Plains, just west of the Mongo River, believed that Steefs still existed… at least as a spirit anyway… The Plains people whisper about a ghost Steef which sometimes appears at night… and apparently eats cheese.
Steefs were/are a four-legged hairy beast, which look like a centaur with a camel’s face, huge ram-like horns and some nasty looking carnivore teeth. They were hunted down to a mere handful; hunted for their horns, and hunted because they were a pain in the arse to settlers.
!_S_T_E_E_F_!
Mongo Plains Markets, a few miles west out of New Yolk City.
Steefie stopped and looked at a stall with crates of critters. “What the hell… Why are they sellin’ those, mister?”
Steefie was dressed in a blue-denim dress which made an upside down V at the front revealing her bleached-bone coloured pants. The back of her dress ended in a V, at her ankles; it was trimmed with tassels. She wore flat-heeled black and brown boots; her boots had spiked metal heel-and-toe caps, as well as multiple buckles and studs. Her hair was pulled up into two buns, one on each side of her head. She had a dark blue dog-bowl shaped hat with a short brim at the front, and underneath her denim-dress she wore a black short-sleeve blouse. On her fore-arms she wore bracers; each had grappling claws attacked to them, and could be extended to be used as climbing aids, or a tool to rip off someone’s face.
There were a multitude of melee weapons that Steefie owned; a staff, two short blades, two long blades (which had a similar resemblance to samurai swords), a belt full of throwing knives. Her staff and swords were carried on her back, forming a 6-pointed stat shape.
Although Steefie dressed resemble nicely (if a little punkish with those boots), the Clakker in the stall couldn’t help but stare at her… she was rather… furry. Not only that, her face looked like it belonged to a camel-thing. The truth was, “Steevie” was Steefie’s alias; she was a Steef from the Mongo Plains. She told everyone her name was Steevie, to avoid any suspicions. There are very few people who know her real name is Steefie.
“The General Stores ‘round the Mongo River ‘ave been orderin’ critters fer some Bounty Hunter that’s-a been draggin’ in the Out Laws like its Christmas time.” The Clakker replied. “He uses them fer ammo, or some crap… I dunno, I just sell the little bastards. These crates here aint for sale; they’ll be heading to New Yolk on my wagon at the end of the day; so keep your mitts off ‘em.”
Steefie took a closer look at one of the crates. She looked through the hole, but recoiled with a startle. “Holy sh…! Some one wants spiders!?”
“They’re called Bolamites Lass, not spiders.” The market-owner corrected.
Steefie glared at the box of Bolamites. “It dun matter what they’re called, they still have fangs and look ugly.”
Steefie backed away without looking where she was going; she tripped over a small long crate, and fell backwards. “Eep! Whoa!”
Crash!
“Ouch! What the… holy crap!” Steefie jumped up when something stung her on the bottom.
“Stupid girl! You broke the crate with the Stingbees in it!” The Clakker said grabbing a net.
The Stingbees were apparently very angry at Steefie for cracking open their crate with her butt. They continued to sting her, making her panic. She jumped around like a mad woman, swatting at the Stingbees while the Clakker tried to catch them in the net.
“Ouch! Eeek! Crap! Egads!” Steefie shouted, as well as an assortment of other profanity.
Steefie bumped into the Clakker, tripped over him, and landed face-first on the Bolamite crate.
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeyaaaaaaaaaaa!” She screamed as Bolamites crawled all over her. She jumped up, knocking out a support beam, making the small tent half-collapse.
Critter crates were scattered, and Steefie’s voice could be heard right up the other end of the Mongo Plains Markets. She tore through the tent and ran onto the pavement; she was covered in critters. She shook herself, flinging most of the little monsters in all directions, causing more havoc.
“Somebody get this frikkin Stunk off my ear!” She cried out loud, tugging at the smelly beast which had clamped onto her ear with its teeth.
The Clakker who owned the critters pulled himself out from under the collapsed tentage; he didn’t look pleased. He raised his net, and slammed it over Steefie’s head.
“I told ya to keep yer fingers off my critter crates!” He yelled angrily. “Now look whatcha gone and done, you retard! I’m taking you to Security!”
Steefie didn’t have much choice on the matter; Clakkers where going crazy all around the scene. However she didn’t like being told off. “Look hear bird brain, I didn’t lay a finger on those stupid critter crates of yours!”
The Clakker pulled Steefie along by the net towards the Security Office. “Oh, no, you didn’t lay a finger on them – just your big fat arse!”
“It’s not like I
meant ta cause Armageddon back there, ya know. It was an accident!”
“Tell that to the Clakker who bought those off me. He aint gonna have much left to put in his shop now, thanks to you.”
They arrived at the Security Office. The Clakker, still pulling Steefie by the net, walked up the stairs and into the office. He walked over to the counter. “Officer, this ‘ere lass has gawn an’ ruined my stock! I want compensation from her!”
The ‘officer’ was a fat Clakker in a Sheriff’s uniform; he even had the star badge pinned to his shirt.
“Well well,” said the Officer, looking up at Steefie (who still had the net over her head… and the Stunk latched to her ear). “So you’re the one that caused a riot. My boys are out there cleanin’ up after your mess, lady! What have you got to say for yourself?”
“Whoopy-crappin’-doo. Get this bone-head to take the net off my head, and I might consider answerin’ ya civilly!”
The officer looked at the Clakker, he then removed his net. Steefie grabbed the stunk and tried to remove it again, but with a bit more brute force this time.
“Don’t squeeze that stunk!” The officer clucked. “You wanna make it do some thing – aww, gross! Bluurgh!”
It was too late… the stunk let off a foul stench which would have made the wallpaper peel off the walls if there was any on them. The officer and the Clakker were ralphin’ their guts up while Steefie help her breath (with watery eyes), trying to detach it from her ear. She finally pried it off, and threw it out the door. It landed on the pavement, and gassed out the people close to it causing about another six people to hurl.
Steefie ran over to a nearby fish tank and stuck her head in it. When she pulled her head out, she shook herself sending water around the room.
The officer and the Clakker were looking at her with displeased faces. “What?” she said. “S’not my fault that little stinker was clamped onto my ear. You should try having one of those things spray only inched from your face.”
!_S_T_E_E_F_!
“I already told ya, I don’t have any Moolah!”
“Well ya gotta pay this Clakker back for the damages you caused somehow.”
Steefie didn’t have any Moolah since that Out Law started blackmailing her. Every cent she earned, belonged to that fat-arse Tubbo Lard. “Well it can’t be with Moolah, can it, officer? I can’t exactly pull money out of ma butt ya know!”
“Then why were ya here, at the Markets where people buy things, iffin you’re outta Moolah then, huh?”
“I was passing though; I was on my way to New Yolk City.” Steefie lied. “I was um… going to New Yolk City to look fer a job or some way to earn a bit ‘o Moolah.”
The officer seemed to almost
pity Steefie for some reason. Or at least that’s what his face seemed to say. It was a bit hard to tell behind bars, and with that officer’s mug. “Well,” he said “Let me go talk to the guy, and see what he has to say. After all, it’s him who you’re payin’ back not me.” The officer walked off.
Steefie wasn’t heading for New Yolk City, nor was she just “passing through”. She had made that all up; the real reason she was here was to find the black market and get Tubbo’s parcel. She didn’t know what it was, but he was definitely gonna be pissed off if he didn’t get it. He seemed pretty worried that one of his goons might loose the parcel or damage it.
The officer came back, accompanied by the Clakker with the net. “Before we go any further, what’s your name, lassie?” The Clakker asked.
“Er, Steefie. Now tell me yours, or am I just gonna call ya stupid names all day, like fat-head and dumb-arse?”
“Don’t be so rude lass,” said the Clakker. “I’ve got a pretty good deal for ya; you accompany me to New Yolk City, like a body guard ‘n’ stuff, an’ work fer me fer a few days. Oh, an’ me name’s Henry.”
Steefie didn’t know if it could get any worse. But it did.
“Oh and I’m not gonna feed ya either. You’ll have to get yer own food. I aint feedin’ the person who ruined a quarter of my stock.”
Great, thought Steefie. First, Tubbo’s gonna be so shitted off because he won’t get his parcel; then he’s gonna be even more shitted off because his own body guard (Steefie) would be away for a week or so. She was (unwillingly) Tubbo’s property; she wore a pendant concealed beneath her clothes with Tubbo’s symbol on it; all his cronies had them. They let other Out Laws know they belonged to someone else. Steefie had to keep Tubbo pleased, or he’d blab out what she was to the wrong people. If that happened, she’d be hunted down and killed. One of the good things was, however, Tubbo didn’t want other Outlaws to know what Steefie was or they might try and steal her for their own benefit. She was biding her time, however; when the opportunity arose, she would kill Tubbo and anyone else who he let know in his clan that she was a Steef.
Steefie had to see Tubbo before she left, or he might get angry. She had to let him know what was going on, so he wouldn’t chuck a narnie (well not as big a narnie anyway). “Mr. Henry sir, I need to let someone know where I’m going. They might get worried and put up wanted signs if I don’t let them know where I’m going.”
Tubbo sure as hell might put up some wanted signs. With a bounty for captured dead or alive maybe.
“How do I know you’re gonna come back? You might run off.” He answered with suspicions.
“Well um… I’ll give ‘ol Officer here my swords ‘till I return. How’s that sound?”
Steefie showed Henry her two larger swords. “Well… alright,” he said, and the officer opened the cell door. Steefie handed him the swords. “We leave at dawn tomorrow. Meet me at the Gorge Bridge on the way outta town. I’ll bring your swords with me… and if you don’t show, I’m selling them at New Yolk City.”
“I’ll be there.” She said, and walked out of the building.
!_S_T_E_E_F_!
“What!? Whadoya mean ya gotta go with a Clakker to pay back damages!” Tubbo was most possibly the fattest Out Law in Oddworld. Steefie didn’t know whether to laugh or be repulsed by his wobbling stomach and giant man-boobs. “Look, woman, what the hell are you doin’ takin’ crap from those feathered freaks!?”
Steefie could have beat up the Clakkers and ran away, or broken out of jail, but she didn’t want to have any criminal records. Records lead to bounties, and bounties lead to jail or the grave. “Because I dun wanna start makin’ a bad name fer myself in public. If I do that, how am I gonna do your undercover work, eh? No one’ll trust me if I start doin’ crap like beatin’ Clakkers up and breakin’ outta jail.”
Tubbo thought for a minute. “So you said you’ll be back here one week to this day, huh? Hmm… Well, seein’ as you’re goin’ to New Yolk City, I want ya to do a few things for me there.”
Steefie had a feeling it would be dirty work… because that’s the only type of work Out Laws do. “Yeah, like what?” she asked.
Tubbo motioned for her to move a bit closer. She didn’t really want to, because he smelt as bad as he looked. “Here’s what I wantcha ta do girl…”
!_S_T_E_E_F_!
The next morning Steefie was waiting on the other side on the bridge. She didn’t like the idea of crossing a crappy bridge in a wagon which weighed so much.
The wagon arrived earlier than Henry had said. It crossed the gorge with few problems, and Steefie jumped aboard, and sat next to Henry. “Wanted to try and get away with my swords, didja? Well, I’m here, so hand them over.”
Henry handed Steefie her swords, which were wrapped in material. “Hmph. Ya know I probably would get a pretty penny for these on the black market, but oh well. Now, if anyone tries to jump us, carve ‘em up with your swords that you got hangin’ off ya like pone cines on a tree.”
!_S_T_E_E_F_!
Henry hadn’t stopped talking for the past hour and a half. Steefie was off in la-la land, barely even listening to what the Clakker had to say (which was mostly about how she screwed up his stall and cargo).
“…and because of the critters that got away, New Yolk city General Store aint gonna have that many Bolamites, Sting Bees or Stunkz. There’s a Bounty Hunter who’s been buyin’ ‘em. He’s apparently goin’ from town ta town an’ baggin’ the Outlaws. He even got Packrat Palooka ya know.”
“Wow. Like I care.” Steefie replied dryly.
“Well you should, ‘cause, well… you should!” Henry replied, chewing on a piece of grass that he pulled out of his pocket. “Bagerk! Ah dang it, there’s a new toll both up ahead. That wasn’t there last time.”
Steefie looked up; sure enough, there was a toll gate which, although it looked like it had been thrown together, was in working order. It didn’t look like Clakkers at the gate, however. “Those are Out Laws…”
Henry started to panic. “Oh no! They’re gonna steal all ma cargo and Moolah!”
“Let me sit in the driver’s seat, and I’ll deal with them.” Steefie said, standing up. “I think I can drive, sorta…”
“If you dent my wagon, you’ll be payin’ for that too!”
Steefie gave the Clakker a bit of a grizzly look. “Shutup and let me in the drivers seat. Do you want to get to New Yolk in one piece, or many?”
Henry quickly left his seat, and Steefie took the wheel of the shabby wagon van thing. The cabin was open to the outside, and only had a piece of shade cloth above their heads.
Steefie pulled her collar up Around her neck and chin. As they approached the toll both, a boom came down. “Uh… which ones the brake again?”
“That one!” the Clakker said hastily. “Now use it ‘fore we’re kissin’ that there boom!”
The Clakker was jolted as Steefie applied the brakes. “Ouch! Gentle girl, gentle!”
There were about seven Out Laws that Steefie counted. Most of them had guns, a few had blades. One of the bigger Out Laws with spiked armour approached the driver’s side, where Steefie sat.
“Oh ho ho ho!” he laughed gruffly. “We have a woman here, boys!”
The glare Steefie gave the Out Law would have murdered him if his brain was big enough to comprehend it. She made sure he could see the handles of her weapons poking over her shoulders. “So what do I have ta pay ya to get through?”
The Out Law scratched his butt and said “five hundred Moolah… for the little guy. Another thousand for you.”
The Clakker had a fit, but Steefie kept his beak clamped with one hand. “Well, uh… I don’t
have any Moolah, but I got somethin’ else you might like.”
Steefie unbuttoned the top two buttons of her black blouse. The Out Laws thought they’d get to see ‘something’ but when they saw Tubbo’s pendant hanging around Steefie’s neck they all looked alarmed.
“Let them through! Let them through!” The apparent boss of the small gang yelled hastily. Steefie looked at the big armoured Out Law. “If any of ma cargo is touched by you and ya punks… “ She narrowed her eyes.
As soon as they were out of sight of the Outlaws, Steefie and Henry swapped seats again. Steefie did her buttons up again, and put her boots up on the dashboard, and tilted her hat.
“Get your dirty boots off ma dashboard!” Henry bitched, but Steefie just ignored him. “What was that thing you showed those Out Laws that made them act all funny?” he asked with a hint of curiosity.
“None o’ your business. That’s what it is sunny.” Steefie replied, getting comfy. “Now let me sleep; don’t wake me ‘less ya got Outlaw troubles, or we reaches New Yolk.”
!_S_T_E_E_F_!
around 12 noon, New Yolk city.
The wagon pulled up in front of the New Yolk General Store. Steefie was snoring quite contentedly until she fell out of the cabin when the passenger side door fell off.
Ooof! Clank! “What tha!”
“Rise an’ shine, Steefie. Time to start unloading the cargo. What did ya do to ma door!?”
Steefie stood up, stretched, and shook the dirt off her clothes. She picked the door up, and looked at it. “I dunno; I was just snoozin’, an’ the next thing I knows I’m lickin’ dirt. But what do you expect? It’s a crappy wagon.”
She placed the door in the cabin, and walked over to the side doors of the trailer where the cargo was kept.
Henry pushed a crate out of the doors. “Now, I’ll bring the crates out of the wagon, and you take them inside. Be careful not to break anything for peat’s sake.”
The first crate was a critter crate; Steefie made sure she didn’t have her fingers anywhere near the holes when she picked it up. She walked inside the shop, and greeted the shop keeper. “Where’d ya want the crates put, sunny?”
“Over there, in that corner lady. Are you Henry’s new lady? You’re a bit tall… and hairy… for a Clakker.” The shop keeper said, looking at Steefie funnily.
She put the crate down, and walked towards the door. “That’s ‘cause I aint a Clakker, and I aint that dung-head’s woman. I just his body guard and assistant for a few days…”
Within half an hour, the job was almost finished. Steefie was bringing in the last few crates whilst Henry and the shop keeper had a blab. Steefie was outside, cursing over the last two boxes which were Stunkz and Bolamites. She picked them up and took them inside. A customer walked in after her.
“Ya don’t say Henry? So that girl that’s with you, she showed them Outlaws somethin’, an they just let you pass without payin’ a single moolah!?.” The shop keeper said, before turning to the customer. “Ah! Howdy Stranger, what can I do for you today?”
The customer was taller than Steefie, and wore a brown leather outfit with a green undershirt. He had buckle-up boots, a wide-brim leather hat, and a crossbow with him, as well as a pouch… that wriggled.
“Do ya have any Stingbees, Bolamites and Chippunks? I couldn’t git very many on ma last huntin’ trip.”
Steefie put the crates down; she was watching the customer from the corner of her eye.
The shop keeper waddled over to the new stock. “let me go fetch ‘em. Although we might not have very many Stingbees and Bolamites, so I hope ya not desperate for ‘em.”
“But ya have new stock just today. Why don’t ya have many?”
Henry pointed a big accusing feather at Steefie. “ ‘cause that big clutz crushed some of the crates with her butt an’ her face! Hmph. That’s why she’s workin’ fer me for a few days; to pay back what she broke.”
Highly embarrassed but also steaming mad at Henry, Steefie resisted sticking her spiked boot up his feathery arse. “It wasn’t my fault you keep a messy market; if that other small crate wasn’t in a stupid spot, maybe I
wouldn’t have
fell on your critter crates. Ever thought of that, or is your brain already in over-drive?”
“…Do ya have any larger clips for my crossbow?” The Stranger asked, trying not to fuel the argument. “Surely those can’t runaway from a broken box, heh heh…
Perhaps it was because the customer didn’t have a real knowledge about social behaviour and insults, or perhaps it was because Steefie was already shitted off. Either way, she took what the Stranger said offensively.
She grabbed a box labelled “cross bow clips” and punched her fist through the crate’s lid, grabbed a clip, and handed it to the Stranger. “No they wouldn’t run away if the crate broke, but I’m sure if they had legs, they’d run away from you.”
With that she turned around without another look at the two Clakkers and the Stranger. “I’ll get you that money Henry, so I don’t have ta put up with the whole ‘she’s ma bitch for a week’ attitude. Got any problems? Well, if ya do, then talk to some one who gives a shit pal.”
Steefie nearly tore the doors off when she left.
“…Did I... say somethin’?” Stranger looked at the shop keeper.
The two Clakkers shrugged. “Women.” The shop keeper sighed. “They remind me of… women. Alright then, all up, ya owes me six hundred moolah.”
!_S_T_E_E_F_!
There was nothing but lint and a few pieces of cheese in Steefie’s pockets. She looked around; there was a bounty store, a saloon, a barbers, and some closed-down buildings. Gee, what a brilliant city.
She decided to head on over to the Bounty Store to see who had a price on their head. She needed to earn about six hundred moolah; any extra cash she could use at the black market. She walked in through the doors, and was greeted by another stupid looking Clakker.
“Oh, well, hello Lassie! You must be new in town. Ya lookin’ in the wrong shop if ya want a hair cut. The barbers is ‘cross the street yonda.”
Steefie walked over and lent on the counter, looking the Clakker in the eyes. “Gimme a look at what bounties you got for grabs. I don’t have a battleship strapped to my back to look good ya know.” She rested her chin in her hands and her elbows on the bench, with her butt sticking out behind her, and crossing her let and tapping her boot spikes.
“Alright, I’ll get the bounties out. Hmm… here we go, here’s the bounties.” The Bounty Store clerk put two pieces of paper on the bench for Steefie to read. “There’s a Stranger in town who’s been gettin’ the bounties for the Out Laws round this area. He’s already caught one of ‘em, so if ya really want the bounty for one of these, I’d be getting’ started today. That Stranger’s cleared out two other towns of their bounties ya know, and now he’s huntin’ a Steef, too. There’s a bounty worth twenty grand to the person who gets a Steed head. Although I dunno if there’s even a Steef left round these parts.”
Steefie whipped her head up, and looked at the store clerk. “did you just say… he’s huntin’ for a Steef… head!?”
“Yeah!” the Clakker laughed, taking Steefie’s shocked look as surprise about the twenty grand. “Twenty grand! I doubt he’ll get it; but he seems like a determined person. But no matter how determined he is, he can’t go baggin’ a Steef if there aint one left.”
Chills ran down Steefie’s spine. “What does this Stranger look like…”
“Well,” the clerk said, looking up above Steefie. “He’s standin’ right behind ya, so why don’t you take a look for yerself?”
“Egads!” Steefie called out in surprise. She stood up straight and whirled around so fast she lost her balance and fell backwards over the counter. The poor Clakker behind the bench was the fall-breaker.
Stranger looked over the counter. “I uh, didn’t mean to startle you.”
Steefie’s heart started to slow back down to it’s normal pace. “Well obviously; other wise you wouldn’t have been standin’ behind me all silent-like. Doesn’t any one ‘round here have any
ing manners?!”
Steefie got up, and nimbly jumped back over the counter. She dusted herself down, and looked the Stranger in the eyes. “What’s your name buddy? I’ll tell ya mine if you tell me yours.”
Stranger could see that the young woman was irritated. She had that look about her that most impatient women do. “You ant gonna see me no more once I’ve gotten these last two bounties, so what’s the point in tellin’ ya?”
“The point is,” Steefie said calmly. “If you don’t tell me your name, I’ll just call ya Bob. That okay with you Bob? Well, it better be, ‘cause it’s what I’ll be callin’ you unless ya tell me your name.”
“Er,” Stranger said a little surprised. “…people just call me Stranger.”
“Well I aint callin’ ya ‘Stranger’. That’s a stupid name. Fine, you are now officially known to me as Bob.”
Stranger looked a little hopelessly at Steefie. “So what’s your name then woman?”
“Ya can call me Steevie. ‘S’wat most people call me unless they’re got alsymers disease.” Steefie replied, relaxing a little. “But,” she said, talking before ‘Bob’ could open his mouth, “I’m not tellin’ ya my name ‘cause you told me you was called ‘Stranger’ – that’s not a name – I’m tellin’ you ma name ‘cause I don’t wantcha callin’ me somethin’ stupid like ‘Lass’ or ‘Fifi’ or some crap like that. I have a feelin’ this won’t be our last meeting.”
“That so, Steevie?” Stranger asked, looking sideways at the bounties on the bench.
Steefie picked up on of the bounties; it was an Out Law named Loud Mouth Liam; he was the guy that Tubbo had ordered Steefie to capture for bounty. Loud Mouth’s gang was apparently getting too big for its boots, and Tubbo was worried they might try somethin’ funny in the near future. “See this guy?” She said, pointing at the picture of Liam. “This guy’s arse is mine. Captured alive, I’ll earn more than enough to pay back that backwards yokel Henry.”
“Not unless I bag his arse first, princess.”
Steefie glared the Stranger right into his acid green eyes. She wasn’t backing down to a challenge. “You’re on… Bob.”
The Bounty Clerk, worried a brawl might break out, interrupted the pair’s glaring competition. “So, uh, you two wanna know where to find Loud Mouth?”
Ye Haw! That’s the end of Chapter one!
Oddworld: Steefie's Charge (humour/adventure)
I still got to read everyone elses fics as well; I got lotsa readin' ahead of me!
Steefie and her cheese, heh heh heh. Lookin' forward to more. 
this story's sooo good
