Not a minion was stirring, not even a squeak.
‘Twas the night before Ogremas and all through the keep,
Not a minion was stirring, not even a squeak.
The traps were arranged in the killbox with care,
In the case that an army soon may appear.

The Paladins were perched all snug on their squares,
Ignoring the potshots from the Heroes o’er there,
And Master in his robes, War Mage in his shorts,
Had just gotten into it ‘bout whether chess was a sport.
When out in the yard there arose such disorder,
Both Master and War Mage flew out to the border.
Away to the edge of the castle with haste,
Stuck their heads out the window as one yelled with distaste,

“What is this ruckus?!” The master harrumphed,
While War Mage beside him collapsed with a flump,
He was laughing so hard at the scene down below,
Where Brass and the Sorceress had near come to blows

Turns out, the dwarf woman had plotted a scheme,
So foul and devious, it was almost obscene.
At least, by the state of someone’s favorite lamp,
Brass was close to being sent home from camp.

“Look here,” said Brass, straight-faced and pan-dead,
“I was trying to save you from the Fatso in Red.
He snuck into your chambers like he thought you weren’t in,
I caught him pilferin’ through your jewelry bin!

So I hollered and fired off an explosive shot, 
I’m sorry your lamp in the middle was caught, 
But really, I did it to spare you the shame
When people discovered your secret stash of champagne!

It’s pink and it’s bubbly, and most unlike you
To enjoy such a feminine and frivolous brew!
And the red thief had found it, sure as I stand,
He was going to reveal it when he had it in hand!” 

Now friends, you should know, that the story gets stranger,
Brass went on to explain the important wager
That she made to get back the stuff and the booze,
Or she’d grow a beard and wear two left shoes.

The rogue had to fly ‘round the world in one night,
And touch down back here by morning’s first light
Using a wagon as well as, and this part I quote,
A wave of light orcs they’d enchanted to float.

But here was the catch, and Brass snickered to say,
He had to deliver some gifts on the way.
She’d given him some kegs and some other knick-knacks,
Shinies and jinglies and fun bric-a-brac.

She told him that everyone should get at least one,
If he managed, she’d let him slide, but only this once!
And she’d take the blame for the lamp and champagne,
And a secret his thieving name would remain.

By now, in the courtyard, a crowd had arrived,
With even the Heroes from the other keepside.
All were baffled and bemused by the yarn,
And just for a while, they laid down their arms.

Because apparently everyone decided to stay,
To see if the flight o’ the cheeky wanker was late.
After all, it was winter, what else would they miss,
Besides freezing to death and sending minions at Rifts? 

Smolder and Midnight perched up on a wall,
To make fun of the PJ’s worn by Blackpaw,
Who was currently deep in a philosophical bit
With Hogarth and Temper on being social misfits 
The Kobold King squeaked out a good joke or five,
While Tundra and Stinkeye measured staff size,
Prospector and Ivy passed out some drinks from a case
Which Ancestor whined he was unable to taste 

Apprentice, adorably, kept her eyes on the sky,
Awaiting the flying orc sleigh to soar by,
Complete with a man in a red suit bearing gifts,
Of liqueur and cards and sparkle-y glyphs. 

Everyone, Order and Unchained alike,
Told stories and chatted and danced through the night,
And waited for the mysterious thief to return,
While a lamp that should have gone out still burned

When the first rays of sunlight broke in the dawn,
A rumbling sound was heard, then was gone
Then what to everyone’s shock should approach
But eight flying orcs and their spindly coach

The driver set down amidst all the clamor,
And passed out what was left in the back of the wagon.
Everyone got something that at least made them smile,
Even if they hadn’t done that for a while.

Finally, the Sorceress admitted goodwill,
Despite the dwarf woman’s intent to lamp-kill,
Brass was telling the truth and it would be alright:
No lamp is worth more than the sight of Santa Bloodspike.  

@OrcsMustDie     #OMDU
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