’Twas the night of the solstice, when all through the town, Not a creature was stirring — the guild had shut down. The ale mugs were emptied, the hearth fires low, When a whisper of mischief began to blow.
For deep in the tavern, in shadows and smoke, Sat rogues and adventurers, half-drunk, half-broke. When in walked their contact — eyes sharp, smile sly — With a job that could make all their debts say goodbye.
“There’s a man in the north — some call him Saint Nick, But he’s more dread than jolly, and crueler than quick. He keeps a great ledger of guilty and good, The Codex Mens Rea — bound in frost and blood.”
So gather your lockpicks, your spells, and your pride, For tonight you’ll go thieving on the wintertide. Through a gateway of frost, where the cold winds bite, To steal from Lord Santa — before morning light.
But beware of his elves and their hammers and flame, Of the beast in the stables who tramples the lame. For if dawn finds you still in that frozen domain, You’ll be trapped there forever — in Jolly Man’s Plain.
So tighten your cloaks, brave heroes of vice, The Naughty shall rise — and the Nice shall think twice. It’s time for the heist — the Christmas one-shot, Where glory and greed are the gifts that you got.
Welcome, dear listeners, to chaos and cheer, To “The Christmas Heist,” our tale for the year. So pour out some eggnog, roll dice, and take aim — Let’s see if you live long enough to ruin Santa’s name.