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A chill wind blew through the alleyways and streets of Duckburg. This was not a place of happiness and joy, not like it would be decades hence. In the future the lights would be warm and there would be Christmas cheer lining the snowways. But this year, while people might celebrate the holidays on their own hearth, out in the sidewalks they kept their heads down and coats tucked close to them.
The coldest hearth of all was the monolith high on Killmotor Hill, topping only the dark and foreboding Manor across the city. Either place was grim as a tomb, with only one path well-worn between them, no one else having need or desire to come calling. Some looked up at these dedications to business, to intelligence and cleverness, to strength- had been around to see them turn to monuments of greed, of loneliness and hatred. Come this time of year, the gossip on the streets turned to the gravekeeper of those lands. Would his family be seen? HAH they left him to die in his gold years ago, this Christmas would be no different. The old skinflint would be just as alone as before.
Maybe if they were lucky he'd finally just pop off...
The coldest hearth of all was the monolith high on Killmotor Hill, topping only the dark and foreboding Manor across the city. Either place was grim as a tomb, with only one path well-worn between them, no one else having need or desire to come calling. Some looked up at these dedications to business, to intelligence and cleverness, to strength- had been around to see them turn to monuments of greed, of loneliness and hatred. Come this time of year, the gossip on the streets turned to the gravekeeper of those lands. Would his family be seen? HAH they left him to die in his gold years ago, this Christmas would be no different. The old skinflint would be just as alone as before.
Maybe if they were lucky he'd finally just pop off...