Information
Wealth the Creeping Coin
Scrooge
Legacy Name: Scrooge
The Golden Irion
Owner: Magic
Age: 11 years, 4 months, 3 days
Born: November 25th, 2012
Adopted: 11 years, 4 months, 3 days ago
Adopted: November 25th, 2012
Statistics
- Level: 1
- Strength: 16
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 11
- HP: 11/11
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 1
- Job: Unemployed
On the eve of Luminaire, Scrooge and Cratchit were hard at work. Scrooge counted shimmering coins at his desk while Cratchit shivered over his writing, worrying the ink would freeze before he had time to copy his work onto the frozen parchment. At a quarter to close, Cratchit stiffly got up from his wooden stool and made his way across the creaky floorboards to Scrooge's desk. Swallowing hard, he began:
"What is it?"
"Well, tomorrow is Luminaire, and I was wondering if I could have the day off?"
"You mean you won't be working."
"...Yes, but....it's Luminaire. It's a time to be festive and celebrate."
"I see no reason for Luminaire to be celebrated."
"No one else will be working that day. No clients will come into the office. It wouldn't be of financial benefit to remain open."
Scrooge mulled this over for a minute. There really would be no use paying Cratchit if no one was coming in. He did have a point. "Okay," he spoke. "You can have tomorrow off. But I want you in here earlier on December 26th."
"Thank you!" exclaimed Cratchit, smiling as he went to collect his things. "And merry Luminaire to you!" And with that, the clerk disappeared out the door into the gently falling snow, leaving Scrooge alone in the frosty office.
"Luminaire...bah humbug!" Scrooge cursed, dousing the glowing coals in the fire and grabbing his scarf off the hook. He stomped out the door, turned to lock it, then trudged through the streets, a towering figure in a long black cape and ebony top hat.
"No...no. You aren't real. You're just a passing shadow...a bit of undigested cheese...a trick of the mind!" Scrooge shakily stood from his chair and pointed a trembling finger at the phantom.
"I have come to warn you!" Mallarchy said, ignoring Scrooge's accusation. "If you do not change your greedy, unfeeling ways, you will end up in chains like I am!"
"But my friend, you were not unfeeling towards your fellow man."
"All I cared about in life was money, just like you, and didn't show kindness or love towards those I took it from!"
"What can I do to change my fate?" Scrooge cried, growing scared at the truth of the ghost's words.
"Tonight, you will be visited by three spirits, who will show you the error of your ways. Expect the first ghost tonight, when the bell tolls one!" Mallarchy cried.
"Can't I meet them all at once and get it over with?" asked Scrooge.
"When the bell tolls one," the ghost said, unamused.
With this, he slowly began to fade, and before Scrooge knew it, the room was still and silent, as if nothing had even happened.
"I am the Ghost of Luminaire Past," she spoke. Her voice was young as well. "I am here to show you things that have been."
"Oh kind spirit, please, I have learned my lesson. I do not wish to see such things."
"Take my hand," she instructed, ignoring Scrooge as she extended her arm towards him. He made a mental note that ghosts seemed to be fairly closed to compromise. He took hold of her hand (which felt surprisingly solid), and in a moment, he was in a different place.
Scrooge found himself standing in the corner of a room, facing a number of small school desks. The ghost floated beside him as his eyes took in the familiar sight of his old classroom. The chalkboard was how he remembered it, the map on the wall was still tacked in the same spot, and the busts of former headmasters still kept stoic guard over the room. The only thing that seemed out of place was the fact that there were no children in the room save for one small lad sitting at one of the desks, furiously scribbling lessons in a book. He realized that lad was himself, as a boy. It felt strange looking at his former self through the eyes of a stranger. He didn't like it. It made him uncomfortable. Scrooge started making his way through the rows, walking closer to his child-self.
"Hey!" Scrooge began. The boy did not stir, and made no signs of having noticed the outburst.
"He cannot hear you or see you," spoke the ghost from behind Scrooge, causing him to start. "No one can. We are merely viewing memories that have already happened. You no longer have influence over them."
(GHOST OF LUMINAIRE PAST NOT FINISHED).note: school, lost love
"Come in, and know me better man!" cried the Ghost with a large grin. He motioned to an empty seat. "There's plenty here!"
"Are you the second Ghost?" Scrooge asked shyly.
"Indeed I am. Come in, and know me better man!" he repeated. Scrooge ignored the Ghost's memory lapse and slowly made his way to the empty seat besides the spirit, who appeared to be much more interested in the food than in whatever ghostly business he had with Scrooge.
"I am the Ghost of Luminaire Present," the spirit spoke, reaching for some crackers. "I am here to show you what is passing at this very moment."
"At this very moment? You mean now? And with whom?" The spirit laughed.
"It will be easier if I show you," he said in a booming voice. "Come! Let us walk." The ghost hauled himself up from his chair, and Scrooge followed suit. Placing his ethereal hand on Scrooge's back, the ghost began to guide him to his own kitchen door. As Scrooge looked into the darkness of the hall beyond the doorjamb, the kitchen suddenly fell away, and Scrooge found himself standing outside in the streets. He looked around wildly for a moment before collecting his bearings. The houses in this area were small, and a few boasted damaged roofs and cracked windows. The streets in these parts were missing quite a few cobblestones, and Scrooge surmised, with a bit of revulsion, that himself and the spirit had been transported to the poor part of town. Snow fell gently around them, although Scrooge did not feel the cold, and noticed his breath was not visible in the night air. Meanwhile, the spirit had begun walking towards one home in particular. It was small like the rest of the houses, but a warm light streamed through the large front window. The spirit stooped down to peer into the glass, motioning Scrooge to come and do the same.
Scrooge felt a moment of surprise when he looked in and found himself staring at the family of his employee, Bob Cratchit. He had the sudden urge to step away from the window, but the ghost, one step ahead of Scrooge, calmed him. "They cannot see or hear you." Of course. He should have known.
Cratchit had a large family, from the looks of it. Two young women were laying dishes and cutlery out on a small table, while an older woman (presumably Mrs. Cratchit) was bent over a pot in the fireplace, stirring whatever was inside. A young man, who looked very much like Bob Cratchit, was inching closer and closer to a tiny turkey roasting over a stove.
"Peter, get away from that bird!" Mrs. Cratchit yelled, not even needing to turn and look to see what her son was doing.
"Aw, he's just excited for Christmas dinner! It only comes around once a year," said a voice that Scrooge recognized. He swung his gaze over to the corner, where Bob Crachit sat in a chair with a small boy and an open book on his lap. The boy looked thin and tired, and Scrooge noticed a tiny crutch leaning against the chair. "Let him be excited."
Mrs. Crachit made a small noise of annoyance. "Fine. But don't you start picking at it, Young Man! Girls, have you finished setting the table yet?"
"Yes, Mother!" the girls chanted in unison.
"Then let us all sit down to eat!" cried Bob Crachit from his chair, hoisting himself and his crippled son up. He carried the small boy over to the table and plopped him down at the head of it as the rest of his children filled in the remaining seats and his wife carried the measly turkey over to the hungry crowd. The Luminaire feast, if you could call it that, was pitiful at the best of descriptions. The turkey was small, and looked like it wouldn't provide enough meat for 4 people, let alone 6. The contents of the pot turned out to be a thin-looking vegetable soup, which Mrs. Crachit began spooning into bowls. Scrooge turned to the ghost.
"No bread? No yams? What kind of Luminaire dinner is this?"
"They can't afford anything more," the ghost said with an accusing wink. Scrooge turned back to the family where Bob Crachit had proposed a toast.
"To Ebenezer Scrooge! Without him, this meal would not be happening!"
"SCROOGE?!" Mrs. Crachit exclaimed.
STORY NOT COMPLETE.
STORY NOT COMPLETE.
STORY NOT COMPLETE.
Story based off the lovely work A Christmas Carol, originally written by Charles Dickens in 1843.
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