Encounter at Claus-Cache!

Yuletide Adventure III: Season Without a Santa

HO, mortals! I continue on my Yuletide Adventure, a quest to rescue Santa. I stopped in at a Claus-Cache, hoping for rest & repast. Santa maintains an array of these around the Pole—marked by stockings—in case of a blizzard, ice-quake, gnomish invasion, &c. Normally, one may find cookies that remain magically fresh, cocoa that remains at the perfect temperature, & a sack of emergency gifts—quilts, spears, marshmallows, the essentials.

BUT—behold! This Claus-Cache, despoiled by a PATRICK BAT-DAVID. These venal, vain, venomous vermin spread widely, of late. Where once they roamed largely in mansions, manors, & Congress, the North American Greedbat now squalors in every biome. They eat, though they have no taste; they screech, & consider it wisdom; they hoard pebbles, & call it “worth.” FIE. & worst of all, they demand praise for their vapid avarice! As if we ought to be impressed by the chirping creeps. FIE, FIE! I shall dispatch this pest, empowered by my Yule-Runes; then scavenge what supplies I might, & consider my next steps. With no clues, & fewer leads, I must hope the Yuletide provides a miracle—if only I’d a companion on this journey…

Merrie Monday to ye, mortals! I hope this installment of my Yuletide Adventure brought some delight. I thank all who joined us for this weekend’s broadcasts, to all who read these dispatches, & of course we must thank especial the crescent crew of generous mortals who can & do support our works with upgrades here in the Scriptorium!

I shall write ye Wednesday with the next step on my adventure, & news of this Friday’s broadcast! In the meantime—be safe, be well, & be wary of Greedbats! They make poor food, but worse company, so choose wisely…

Cheers,
Amoenus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Bat-Buster