Twas the night afore Winterlight, and the night was deepest black,

Not a critter or monster was stirring, not even Jack,

Their gear was stuffed away in Rory’s storage with care,

In hopes that Big Noodle soon would be there,

The Chosen were snuggled all tight in their bedrolls,

With visions of skill-ups, epic loot, and magic scrolls,

And Erin in her nighty, and Layla in the buff,

While Rory and Jack dug through their stuff,

When out on the road, there arose such a commotion,

The Chosen hopped up, shouting, and Layla cast an explosion,

Out to the crater, they flew like a flash,

And finding a dozen goblins, Erin used SMASH,

It was super effective, splattering the critters about,

And in the midst of the goblins, astride a great antlered mount,

Was the dread Snow-Father, the Spirit of Winterlight,

Robed all in blood red, standing four stride in height,

Great clouds of fetid breath did plume from beneath his hood,

And from his bag, he poured out creatures of bone and wood,

The Chosen drew arms, to combat this beastly thing,

But the Snow-Father simply shushed them, and withdrew a stack of bling,

For each of the Four, he handed to his helpers a box tied with string,

And as the loathsome creatures drew near, they offered up the thing,

The Chosen looked on, terribly wary, but opened the gift,

Then with a clatter and a burst of snow, ever so swift,

The Snow-Father and his creatures were gone,

And as the Chosen watched the coming of dawn,

They looked to each other, the ribbons of their boxes unfurled,

And said to each one, I’ve had about enough of this fucked up world.