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andozane

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Twas the game-night before Christmas and all through the club,
Not a PC was rolling, not even that scrub.
The party was resting, and so were the players,
While feasting on pizza and nachos in layers
The GM was hidden, obscured by his screen
Highlighting upcoming traps in bright green
They’d won a hard fight, as they gave it their best.
But now it was calm, and the world was at rest.
The Drow were all snuggled up safe in their caves;
With visions of Dwarves failing Fortitude saves.
No bandits did burgle, no merchants were trading,
The Orcs all asleep from a long day of raiding.
The temples were silent, no song from their bells;
The Wizards now slept, refreshing their spells.

When from downstairs came a cacophonous reception,
That everyone heard (if they rolled 5+ on perception),
And who should be summoned to the plane of the living?
But D&D Santa! The Warlord of Giving!
With a loud cry for battle he kicked in the door
Our group caught flat-footed from his initiative score
He stood 10 feet tall, What a sight to be feared!
With an Ogre-like gut and a Dwarven-like beard
His tabbard was crimson with runes green and gold
A peppermint broadsword in fist did he hold
In his off hand he wielded a heavy brown bag
Weighed down by its contents of treasure and swag,
Our group was dead silent, the confusion was stressful,
His intimidate check was quite clearly successful...

We dodged an explosion of minis and dice
As he lept on the board and roared “Naughty or Nice?
Lawful or Chaos? Greedy or fair?
If it’s all in character, I really don’t care.
You’ve solved many riddles and slain many hordes,
Now hand over that XP, it’s time for rewards!”
With a deep hearty laugh and a stomp of his boot,
He tipped over the bag and poured out all our loot.
For the Ranger a Longbow Composite +3;
And the Druid a ring that can summon a tree;
For our Bard he did offer an enchanted war drum,
(And an ancient black bottle of 90 proof rum);
For our Wizard new scrolls! What a magical feast!
(From an arcane handbook that still wasn’t released.)
For the Halfling, two daggers, one black and one white,
that would make him unseen as he snuck through the night;
For the Cleric a symbol of his god of healing;
To prevent all the damage our foes would be dealing.

And last but not least, our own Dungeon Master
Not a Monster, nor Fighter, nor Cleric, nor ‘Caster.
“For you, Mr. GM.” Santa said to reveal,
As he offered new dice made of real stainless steel.
“They’re wicked and lucky, much more than you’d think.
And sure to roll 20’s” he implied with a wink.
For they both knew the game all DMs good played:
It matters not what they rolled, just the sound that they made.
With a cry to the heavens Santa called to the night,
And a dragon descended to him from it’s flight.
He swung one leg over and they took to the sky,
We all cheered and waved as we said our goodbye,
His entrance was sudden, his exit abrupt,
We’d survived the encounter and all leveled up.
You could hear him call out from the Dragon he’d tamed:

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good game!”

383BD0B7-0FBC-48F6-9D97-809C55A9A824.jpeg

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