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With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore
'Twas the night before Game Day, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The minis on the mantle had been painted with care,
in hopes that St. Jacobs soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of adventure played in their heads.
And Mama with her fighter, and my redeemed darkfire adept,
had just stolen into the lair of that false Razmiran sect.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should into view dance,
but a miniature sleigh and eight writers who freelance!
With a haggard editor, fresh from an all-nighter,
I knew in a moment it must be Wes Schneider.
More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Tim! Now Nick!
Now, Greg and Amber!
On, Richard! On, John!
On, Mike and Mr. Baur!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with the sleigh full of gamer swag, and audio dramas too.
And then, craning my ear to the roof perpendicular
I could hear the heavy tread boots of each contributor.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney Young Wes came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fake fur, for they are not overfond
of that sort of thing in blue Washington's progressive Redmond.
A bundle of books he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddling librarian opening his pack.
His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was in need of a mow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He looked a bit high, and slightly less than regal,
but that's what you get in a State where pot is half-legal.
His character, a multi-class ninja pirate half-dinosaur elf,
its huge Hero Lab sheet made me laugh, in spite of myself.
With a wink of his eye and a flip of his thumb
he showed me the new archetype that was yet to come.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his editing work,
and corrected our character sheets, even Bill's the rules jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Game Day to all, and to all a good game night!"
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Hey guys. I'm going to step in and finish the game. Give me a little bit to catch up.
Apologies. I was in Aruba all last week and my windows of time to post greatly diminished as the week went by. Back now!
Sorry for the delay guys. Last week and this week have been super busy trying to catch up from the holidays/vacation coupled with a few snow day this week and a slide off the wrecked the front of my car.
Yeah. Though my three girls were very wide eyed as I kept saying. "HOLD ON! EVERYONE HOLD ON!
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I'm not sure where our GM has disappeared to, but it has been over a week since he posted on the Paizo website, so I am guessing that something untoward has happened :-/
I've had a chat with Jesse (the online VC) - he is looking into finding a new GM for us, so we can finally finish this scenario ;-)