A Christmas Tail
5. December 2019
We could all feel it: the warmth of the tavern fire roaring against the chill of the winter weather outside. The smell of freshly-baked cookies, candies and hot cocoa. There was a Christmas Special feeling in the air.
Crispin, Olive, and I were spending the winter holiday in the North. We had trekked forth from Alderheart and scaled the icy peaks of the Crest Mountains to reach a tavern and now we were set to spend the holiday season peacefully and indulge ourselves in a little Christmas cheer.
Quite expectedly, Crispin ordered “one of everything” at breakfast. It is impressive to see him eat such quantities but, unfortunately, on this day luck was not in Crispin’s favour. We were not going to witness another triumph of gluttony.
The door burst open and a small Jerbeen with elf ears rushed into the tavern crying for help.
“Help! Someone help! Santa has vanished and if he is not found before midnight then there will not be enough time to deliver the presents. Won’t someone help and save Christmas?”
The Jerbeen’s shrill voice fell on the deaf ears of the other patrons but we are unable to resist the call of those in need. We beckoned the elf to us and after hearing more he asked us to follow him to where Santa was last seen.
Apparently Santa lives just up the road.
Santa’s property consisted of three buildings: his house, the present workshop, and a barn for an unspecified number of reindeer.
At the house we were greeted warmly by Mrs Claus. Though clearly distressed by her husband’s absence, she invited us inside and offered everyone a mug of cocoa to drink while she told us about Mr Claus’ Christmas routine.
She suggested we spoke to Chutney Peppercrystals in the workshop who was in charge of Santa’s schedule for the big day. We did so and he informed us that Santa had last been seen taking the sleigh out for a test drive above the Northern forest.
Outside the barn we confirmed Chutney’s tale: there were sleigh tracks heading in the direction of the forest. Crispin identified some loose screws that had fallen in the barn and must have become detached from the sleigh. Suspecting foul play, we readied ourselves and followed the tracks.
The path began lined with fir trees, gaudily decorated and topped with a sprinkling of snow. But soon we reached a harrowing sight: a turned-over sled with no reindeer or Santa to be seen.
We carefully investigated the sleigh and found that the reindeer had bolted free and continued down the path, but another set of tracks led off the road and deeper into the forest. There were cloven hoof prints and, alongside them, the markings of something large being dragged in tow.
We followed these second tracks for a while and the sky grew darker and darker. No more decorated trees and snowflakes. It was as if we were approaching a void in the middle of the forest which no light could reach.
Eventually we entered into a clearing and saw ahead of us a large dark tower.
Around the tower were roughly seven goblins, curiously dressed. They wore more leather and accessories than other goblins we had seen before. Lots of piercings, a few with extra tails, some whips and chains, and at least one with a ball gag.
After conferring between ourselves we decided the best approach was to avoid getting too close to these disturbing creatures. Crispin used thaumaturgy to raise my voice to a booming volume and I strode forward and yelled at the goblins.
“You better watch out. You better not cry. You better not pout. I’m telling you why: Santa Claus is coming to town!”
Four turned tails and ran, intimidated by my terrifying presence. The remaining three prepared for battle.
Three vs three. That was more like it.
Olive and I double-teamed one goblin, her rapier flashing and my great axe swinging as we took down the first. Filled with rage I charged down a second goblin who was shooting arrows at my friends. Crispin engaged the last one in combat but, before he got much of a chance, the goblin shattered a vial of alchemist’s fire at his own feet and vaporised himself in a burst of flames.
We hauled open the door of the tower and slipped inside. The interior was just as unsettling as the exterior. There was one occupied room with a locked door and another passageway leading down a spiraling corridor.
We followed the passage around and around until we reached the bottom: a small room containing a single lever.
Being the bravest of the group, I pulled it.
The passageway behind us filled with a cacophony of sound. Blades whizzed and zinged, arrow traps thrummed and hissed, and from further down the corridor came the heavy whoosh of axe blades slicing through the air.
I pulled the lever again.
The corridor fell silent. But, as it did so, we heard a telltale click from the door near the entrance as its lock fell shut again.
Crispin had the bright idea of going back up the corridor with Olive and waiting by the locked door. My responsibility was to stay at the bottom of the passage and pull the lever and wait for them to open the door upstairs. Then, when I heard their signal, I would pull the lever again.
But if they didn’t send the signal to me within a minute then I would risk it all and run the gauntlet.
Olive and Crispin waited at the door and I started the traps. The passage was once again filled with the sound of cutting and slashing and shooting and bashing. I waited for the signal. And waited. And waited.
But nothing. I braced myself and stretched. There was nothing for it: I would have to run the gauntlet.
I leaped over the whirring saw blades of the first trap, propelling myself forward with a hard flap of my wings. For the second trap I grabbed the shield from my back and raised it to protect my side. The acid bolts thudded against it and hissed as they ate into the wood of the shield. At the third trap I stumbled, knocked backward and forward by stone pillars that raised and lowered erratically.
By the time I reached the fourth trap I was within shouting distance. I called to my friends for help and, for some reason, they seemed surprised to see me. Almost as if they had just been enjoying a brief toffee break without me.
Olive motioned for me to step back as she cast thunderwave to smash the swinging axe blades out of my path. After that the last trap was easy to subvert and I ran on to safety.
Apparently they needed my help with the door.
We heaved at the door to no avail when finally Crispin had another bright idea. He raised his paw and knocked twice on the door. Quietly, smoothly, the door swung open.
As we entered the room we noticed two things: a gnarled and twisted devil sitting proudly on a throne on the far side of the room, and beside him an uncharacteristically sobbing rosy-cheeked figure squashed into an iron cage.
We had found Santa and his kidnapper. It could only be Krampus.
“Who dares to enter my home? You outsiders wish to intervene in my affairs?” He pointed to Santa, “This man deserves to die for his actions. He pampers and spoils children until they are nothing more than sniveling, selfish brats growing old and passing their horrible ways onto more children. Soon this world will be full of nothing more than selfish children stopping at nothing until they get what is on their precious list.”
With that Krampus leaped from his throne. He carried a nasty looking weapon and a black sack slung over his shoulder. Seeing that we weren’t going to surrender to him he let out a cry and raised his steel to fight.
Gods, he was strong.
Krampus shrugged off our blows like they were nothing. He moved quickly across the room in inhuman leaps and bounds, turning from one of us to the other and keeping us all at bay. Crispin summoned a spiritual weapon from his deity while I hacked and slashed with my great pan to try to keep Krampus occupied.
Olive, however, had a better idea. She took advantage of the chaos of the melee and scuttled over to the cage with her lock picks in hand. With a few deft motions the padlock clicked open and Olive swung back the cage door.
Freed from the cage, Santa turned out to be a bit of a badass. He put aside his previous sulking malaise and threw himself into the fray, fists blurring as he let loose a relentless assault.
But Krampus still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He took advantage of a break in Crispin’s guard and scooped him into the black sack on his back. Crispin disappeared but his spiritual weapon fought on, causing danger to us all.
Olive thought to splash Krampus with one of the acid slime vials we still had left from the Mokkden Caverns but she misjudged the throw and it went wide, straight into Santa’s face. He cried out as acid and shards of glass buried themselves in his jolly features.
Even with these setbacks, many of our own making, Krampus couldn’t hold us all back. It was four against one and eventually we surrounded him and struck the final blow. As he disappeared, disintegrating into flakes of darkness, he shouted to us.
“Curse you all! You may have won this time but I’ll be back in 100 years. Just you wait!”
We let out a collective sigh of relief. Santa took us back to the village and thanked us for our service. As a reward he gave each of us a present in boxes wrapped with brightly coloured paper.
Somehow we had done it. We had saved Christmas.