#happyjoy

[dorksndisasters]

One Shot; The Night Before Wintermas

this was our evil christmas one shot from. uh. a couple years ago now ^^;

Featuring our usual players but with different characters, and of course @sprokat as the DM (and the vids are up on her twitch)

did some of us use the excuse of "well our characters are evil" to be a little bit more of a dick than usual? maybe. Hey, we had fun, so it's all good

##

 The night is dark, the sun long having since set. Wind howls sharp along the crooked cobbled streets, bringing with it heavy swirls of snow that eclipse almost everything from sight. In the archway before a tall, narrow tower stand four figures, sheltered from the snow as best they can. Beyond the arch – having arrived later, and not been able (or willing) to press closer to these four – are other figures, all apparently waiting for the same thing. A streetlamp hangs above them, shedding a little light over the gathering.

The woman taps at the lute slung low under her arm and tugs her fur-lined cloak closer about herself and it, eyeing the weather with a baleful eye. The pirate mutters to himself, one hand pulling his hat lower over his face. The other man eyes the three of them and brushes snow from his red gloves, his doctor’s coat a bright splash of white in the gathering darkness.

 The fourth is a black furred tabaxi, one hand light upon the curved sword at her waist. A tail flicks behind her, the only betrayal of her impatience as she tilts her head to look at the sign on the door beyond the arch. It’s worn and almost illegible, harder with the snow and the shadows. It reads “HappyJoy Toy and Tobacco Company, Northern Region Headquarters, Frosthold”.

 The tabaxi prowls forward, slipping past the other three, and peers in the window to the left of the door. She sees stacks of boxes, all marked “cigarettes” or “toys”. There are broken dolls’ heads scattered about the dusty floor.

 The woman sighs, turns her back to the weather, and pulls the lute up into her arms. She tunes it up and starts to play, though the snow and the wind deaden the sound.

 The pirate glares at the gathering beyond the arch, hand falling to his sword, and his muttering becomes louder curses and then full-throated roars. “Go on, ye’re not needed here! Anyone one of yous that wants this job will have to go through me!” And he pulls his sword out to brandish it, blade glinting in the light above him. “Yar!”

 As one, the gathered crowd scatters into the surrounding streets, leaving just the four of them under the arch.

 The tabaxi snickers as she steps back from the window.

 The pirate turns to the door behind them and knocks, but he doesn’t wait long before he tries the handle and pushes it open.

 Beyond the door is a reception area, the walls of which are lined with motivational posters and advertisements for HappyJoy products. The biggest – or at least the newest and brightest – is for a teddy bear “that really smokes”, on the wall directly opposite the door. A receptionist sits at a bare desk, leaning on one hand as she doodles on the slate tablet in front of her.

 The pirate enters without a backwards glance, with the tabaxi cautiously behind him. The woman is hard on her heels, and pauses to shake the snow from her cloak and lute, pushing the door shut behind her.

 The tabaxi flicks her ears to clear the snow from them, brushing a hand over the bright flower crown on her head. Then she pads over to the desk and leans forward, resting her forearms on it. She smiles as her pupils dilate slowly back from slits. “Hi, how can we help?” The tip of her tail twitches as if she’s hunting.

 The receptionist looks up from her tablet. “Name? What time is your appointment?” Her eyes are flat, her expression verging on deathly bored.

 Kitty’s smile widens as she holds out a hand. “Everyone calls me Kitty, it’s nice to meetcha. My appointment is right about now.”

 The receptionist pulls out a red nametag with a cat face already drawn where the name should be and places it in Kitty’s hand. “Wait over there.” She points at the wall to her right, and then stares at the other two as if waiting for them to introduce themselves.

 The pirate steps up next. “I’m Cap’n Brine-Blood, of the Sea Sinner.” His tricorn hat is still heavy with snow, which he doesn’t seem to have noticed. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

 The receptionist hands him a tag with a skull and crossbones drawn on it in place of his name.

 “That’s great! I can recognise meself now, though I cannot read. The skull and crossbones works quite well, arr. But I’ve made something of meself, I come from nothing but I’ve made meself terror of the high seas!”

 The receptionist blinks at Brine-Blood and twirls the chalk in her hands, waiting for him to move on. Then she swivels to look at the woman.

 The woman saunters over. “I am Lorenza the Magnificent, the most famous and successful bard in the region.”

 Kitty makes a sound that might be a scoff.

 “Is this really how you pictured your life turning out?” Lorenza ignores Kitty as she focuses on the receptionist. “Are you not bored in your job?” She holds out her hand.

 The receptionist passes her a nametag that has two stick figures on it, one of which appears to have broken a lute over the other’s head.

 Lorenza looks down at her tag and then back at the receptionist. “Your mum’s disappointed in you.” She walks over to join the others.

 “The interview begins in five minutes!” The receptionist calls out. “If no one else is coming, we’ll just get started now.

 The other man who had been waiting outside walks in now, one arm behind his back and the other tucked into his apron, head held high. “Vell hello! I am here for ze interview?” He speaks with a thick accent as he pushes the door shut.

 The receptionist holds out a nametag, which has a collection of potions drawn on it.

 “Ah yes, thank you very well. I presume it is probably because of my medical expertise.” He swivels on his heel and walks to join the others, standing smartly to attention.

 The receptionist sets down her chalk and stands.

 The door slams open to admit one more man, who drops his bags on the floor as he enters. “You,” he says, pointing at Blood-Brine. “Pick those up.” He turns to the receptionist. “I’m here.”

 The receptionist slowly raises one eyebrow as she scans this new arrival. He’s dressed as nobility, in bright whites and fine blues, his hair a bright blonde and still perfectly coiffed despite the weather.

 She takes a nametag from her desk and draws a stick figure on it, carefully giving it an incredibly pompous face and very fluffy hair, before giving it to him. “Wait in the line.”

 He looks down the line of his nose at her. “Peasant,” he sneers, and ignores the line in favour of walking straight for the door. He pushes it open and strides through.

 “He’s just walked into the interview room,” the receptionist says, with only the faintest of sighs. “Please follow him in, to where you will meet Quentin.”

 As Kitty passes by the receptionist, she offers her a grin and a thumbs up.

 The receptionist ignores her as she sits back down.

 Beyond the door is a large, mostly bare office. There’s a painted portrait of a smiling man in a purple suit holding a bunch of colourful balloons that takes up most of the right wall. The plaque underneath it reads “Quentin HappyJoy Senior. Founder, HappyJoy Family Toy Co.”

 The far wall is one long window that shows only the snow blowing past in the darkness. The middle of the room is taken up by a dark mahogany desk that holds a neat stack of parchment, a magical Newton’s Cradle that clicks quietly back and forth without the need for string, and a slate tablet.

 A man stands beyond the table with his back to the door, staring out into the snow. He’s dressed in a grey suit and as he turns to see them walk in, they see that his hair too is grey and his skin appears to have had all the colour leeched from it.

 Kitty’s attention is instantly taken up by the Newton’s Cradle and she prowls towards it, her eyes dilating even more. As she stops by the desk, she flashes out a hand and smacks the contraption off the desk and onto the floor. It clatters to the floor and the spell breaks, sending the balls rolling away from the twisted frame.

 The grey man looks at the twisted frame and then up at Kitty. “I assume you’re here for the interview.”

 “Yup!” Kitty grins. “I’m Kitty, nice to meetcha.”

 The blond man looks around and sits in the only chair on the near side of the desk.

 Lorenza walks up to the edge of the desk. “I’m Lorenza.” She smiles sweetly at the man. “Your face must inspire a lot of drinking.”

 “Well we are trying to get into the drinks industry, so I do hope to be the face of that someday as well. Thank you for your compliment.” He looks past her at the rest of the group, the air of disdain never leaving his bearing. “Tell me your names, and what skills you can bring to the table.”

 The blond, sprawling out in the chair as if he owns the place, gestures as if for someone else to go first.

 “Yes, I am Medric Al Malpactis,” says the one in the white doctor’s coat. “I am a renowned cleric and I am here to do whatever – well, heal whatever ailments take place. I am very good at stitching things together and keeping track of things. I also have some more magical potential as well, that I can fit in to help out with any kind of experimentation of any sorts.”

 “Perfect,” says Quentin. “Exactly what we’re looking for in this role. You’re hired.”

 “Excellent.” Medric beams.

 “Who’s next?”

 Lorenza tilts her head and smiles at him. “I’m Lorenza, the Magnificent. The most famous bard in the area. I am fantastic at writing songs of adventure, whispering secrets into people’s ears, and telling people what to do.”

 “Your skills seem good,” Quentin says, after a long side glance. “You’re also hired.”

 Brine-Blood strides up to the desk. “Captain Klaus Brine-Blood here! Terror of the high seas, Captain of the Sea Sinner. And if you’re wanting anything done, a little underhanded, some plunder taken, some loot stolen, men killed, extortion, robbery, murder – I’m your guy, on the high seas or on land.”

 “Perfect! You’re also hired. But may I say, you bear a remarkable resemblance to a Mr. Santa Claus.” Quentin sweeps a gaze over Brine-Blood in his long red coat and his thick grey beard.

 “Who?”

 “Santa Claus.”

 “If he’s an imposter I’ll slit his gizzard!”

 “Good, good,” Quentin says, already looking away.

 “There’s only one Captain Klaus Brine-Blood! No room for this Santa.”

 “That’s the attitude we want here at HappyJoy Toy and Tobacco Company.” Quentin smiles. “Welcome aboard.”

 Kitty readjusts her flower crown slightly, her eyes back to normal. She fluffs herself up and smiles at Quentin, baring sharp teeth. “I get people to do anything I want them to, and they’ll thank me for it afterwards.”

 Quentin blinks at her. “Uh… ok? I’m sure we’ll need someone with your expertise on the job, welcome aboard!” His gaze falls on the blond sitting down. “And you?”

 “Tarquin Phautheringhamme the sixth,” he says, sneering. “As if you didn’t already know.”

 “… Indeed.”

 “I’m just the man you need for this job,” Tarquin continues, “I can promise you it will only go badly if you don’t hire me.”

 There’s a small standoff as Quentin narrows his eyes to glare at Tarquin, who sits unconcerned by the threats he’s dropped.

 Quentin clears his throat. “Would you like the details of the job, or are you happy just to go ahead?”

 “Always got to know what we’re walking into,” Brine-Blood says.

 “So.” Quentin drops his gaze to the papers on his desk. “We are a tobacco and toy company. You would think, with Wintermas being tomorrow, that this would be our most profitable time of the year, but it’s not. So I need you to take out the competition.

 “We’ve sent scouts to Santa’s home, at the north pole, but none of them have returned, and we have only received the briefest notes by sending stone.

 “The entrance to Santa’s home lies in a glacial crevasse, patrolled by some kind of flying creatures and guarded by holly barbed wire and candy mines along the tops of the cliffs. We haven’t had much information back about the land between.” He frowns. “I will give you 250 gold – each – up front, and a further 750 upon completion of the job. If you run with the 250 gold, I’ll place the 750 as a bounty upon your heads is that clear?”

 Brine-Blood snorts. “I’ve more money on me head than that right now. Assassins aren’t a new threat. But, I’m a man of my word, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

 Quentin nods. “Alright. Basically, we need you to find out how Santa is distributing the toys, and either steal or disable the means of production if possible.”

 “Well, if there’s money in it for me now and at the end, I’m in,” Lorenza says.

 Kitty tilts her head, as if considering the proposition. “Sure.” She shrugs. “I got nothing better to do.”

 “You have an hour to collect anything more you need,” Quentin says. “There is a town square not far from here with assorted shops and such that should hold everything you need. Return here after, and you will be teleported north by my corporate mages. I will give you a teleportation snow globe for the return.”

 “Well,” Lorenza says, “Let’s stock up.”

 Quentin pulls leather pouches out from a drawer in his desk. He must have had them ready with the prepayments, because he hands one to each of them without checking the contents. “An hour,” he repeats. “Try not to be late.”

This disparate group leaves the tower and walks back through the narrow winding streets to the one place that still looks awake and cheerful amidst the heavy clouds and constant snow; the square at the centre of the town.

 There’s a raised platform tucked under the shelter of trees on one side, where a bard is singing carols to a gathered crowd. Lorenze and Kitty both stare in that direction; Lorenza sharply dismissive, as if she finds them lacking, and Kitty curious, eyes dilating as she studies the crowd. There are guards amongst the crowd, all of them seemingly caught up in the performance.

 In the centre of the square are covered stalls that host a variety of trinkets for sale as well as Wintermas trees – all stunted and scrawny – and treats. On one side of the square there is a blacksmith, noticeable by the warmth spilling from its open doors, around which people are crowding. Beside the raised platform is a temple, tucked in beside the trees but with its door open, spilling out a light of its own. Opposite there is a larger building with the windows covered over, looking as if it were closed if it weren’t for the occasional patron entering and exiting.

 Kitty tilts her head, her tail flicking ever so slightly. “I have some business at the… Legitimate Business Tavern and Store,” she says, squinting through the snow to read the sign above the door.

 “Does it have quotation marks around the legitimate?” asks Brine-Blood.

 Kitty smirks, licking her tongue along the edge of one of her canines. “It will when I’m done with it.”

 Brine-Blood laughs. “Arr, I’ll come with ye, this sounds like fun.”

 Medric slips away from the group, making his way towards the temple.

 Tarquin strides towards the smithy, leaving the group without a second glance.

 The inside of the Business Tavern is a large single storied space with a long bar against the back wall and a small shop counter from it by the change of display on the wall behind it. There are a few patrons at tables, nursing tankards and the tail end of what looks to be a very barebones meal.

 “Right, this is a robbery!” Brine-Blood bursts in the door, starting to pull his cutlass from his belt. “Give us all your gold or lose your life – sorry, sorry, I forgot where I was.” He lets go of his cutlass. “I’m – here to buy stuff.”

 Kitty pats him on the arm as she slinks past. “We’ll get to that part, alright?” she murmurs, eyes gleaming in the light as she scans the room.

 Brine-Blood nods in agreement. “Ok, ok. And I’d better get a discount!”

 The merchant raises his eyebrow, looking them over. “We don’t do discounts here. Are you here for the… legitimate business?”

 There’s enough of a pause in his speech to pique Kitty’s interest.

 She smiles brightly and saunters up to the counter, leaning over it. “Of course we’re here for the legitimate business.”

 The merchant glances between them again and then focuses on Kitty. “If you have some items that you’re finding it hard to shift, we can take care of that. Might we also interest you in some of our exclusive items? They aren’t available to the usual clientele.”

 Kitty purrs in delight, her fur fluffing up a little as it starts to dry out. “You may interest me in your back catalogue.” She follows him along the counter to a hidden door.

 He swings it open to reveal a small store room with several items arrayed on shelves; bear traps, vials of poison, a number of different bombs, several scrolls, a pair of goggles, boots with knives strapped to the soles, and a silvery cloak that offset her gaze every time Kitty tried to focus on it.

 Brine-Blood has wandered to the counter in Kitty’s wake. “Listen,” he growls out. “I’ve been around some years now, I know a front when I sees one. Show me the good stuff.” He leans over the counter, glowering at the man and moving his hand lightly towards the hilt of his cutlass.

 The merchant swallows and looks him over and nods. “If you’d like to follow your companion, right through there.” He points towards the hidden door.

 Brine-Blood stamps over to the door and peers in over Kitty’s shoulders.

 She shifted out of his way.

 “Blade poison?” Brine-Blood grabs the first bottle, holding it up to read the label. “And I’ll take those.” He reaches for the goggles.

 “I’ve always wanted one of these.” Kitty glances again at the silvery cloak as she picks up the bear trap. “It will look very fetching on my wall, I think.”

 “Of course,” says the merchant. “If you’ll follow me back to the counter, we can settle your purchases.”

 “Of course,” Kitty replies, and motions for Brine-Blood to go ahead of her.

 He shoots her a look that says he doesn’t quite trust her behind him. She affects a hurt expression for a second and then winks, smirking.

 Brine-Blood stamps out of the room in the merchant’s wake, talking loudly about the money that he’s forking out.

 Kitty takes another glance around the room and her paw flashes out to grab at the silvery cloak, shoving it into her bag quick as a whisper. Her ears flick, waiting for an alarm that never happens.

 Satisfied, she bounds out of the room in Brine-Blood’s wake, closes the door behind her, and pays for her bear trap.

 Medric enters the temple. There’s an altar inside with a bottle and a box on top of it at the head of the room. There are also a few priests; one at prayer, a few talking with townsfolk, and a couple cleaning along the edges of the temple and keeping the braziers lit.

 He checks his holy symbol, makes sure that the side that still shows Helm’s effigy, the side that isn’t defaced, is turned forward, and holds it up. “Why hello! How goes the day then?”

 The priests acknowledge his presence with a few nods, a murmured greeting, but let him be.

 Medric walks up to the altar and kneels as if to pray, but studies the bottle and chest that sit there.

 The bottle is unmarked and has a clear liquid in it, and without being more obvious about his interest, Medric can’t tell more than that. The box rattles as he pokes at it, which attracts the attention of a nearby priest.

 Medric closes his eyes and contacts his link to his patron.

 A dove appears on his shoulder, visible only to him, and settles its wings as if it’s just landed. “You should take it,” it says. “What use have they for these things? People will only give them more.”

 Medric places his bag before him and rummages through it as if searching for something, muttering to himself all the while.

 When the priest looks away, he spills the contents of the box into his bag, taking every bit of money that the townsfolk had donated in the past day. After a hesitation, he takes the bottle and unseals it, adding a few drops of poison in before he seals it again and places it back on the altar.

 “Praises of Helm be upon you, gentlemen!” Medric gets to his feet, turns on his heel and strides from the temple.

 The priests nod in his direction, one of them raising their hand in a blessing.

At the side of the smithy is a mother doing her best to negotiate for a Wintermas tree. Beside her is a basket holding a baby, who is wrapped up in layers of blankets, unwrapping a huge lollipop that it is having trouble holding.

 The merchant has two trees left. One of them is the perfect image of Wintermas; a tall fir tree thick with branches and pine needles. It’s a wonder it hasn’t been bought already. The other is a small scraggly thing, barely taller than the mother with half its branches bare and the other half bent in all sorts of awkward angles.

 She’s talking with the merchant, trying desperately to talk him into giving her the taller tree for a discounted price, for as much money as she has left to spend, for her baby’s first Wintermas.

 Tarquin ignores them all as he strides past, stepping over the baby’s basket without stopping. His foot catches on the basket and while it doesn’t make him stumble, the basket tips over and the baby tumbles into the snow.

 He pays no attention to the rising scream behind him. Tarquin enters the smithy and points at the nearest person he assumes to work there. “You! Best sword. Now.”

 The smithy is small but well-stocked with armour and weapons lined along the wall beside horse shoes and ploughs and kitchenware.

 The blacksmith doesn’t break from talking with his current customer until she’s satisfied with her items and leaves. Then he turns towards Tarquin and folds his arms. “And what can I do for you?”

 “Bring me your best one and I am not paying for it.” Tarquin points at the weapons in the cabinet behind the forge. “Do you know who I am?”

 “I have no idea who you are,” he replies. “Get out of my shop.”

 Tarquin raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms, and doesn’t move. “My name is Tarquin Chedwick Phautheringhamme the sixth. Bring me your best sword now.”

 The blacksmith looks at Tarquin and unlocks one of the cabinets to take out an elegant sword that gleams in the glow of the forge. For a moment he holds it as though to display it, to hand it over. Then he wraps his hand around its hilt and turns the tip towards Tarquin. “Get out of my shop,” he repeats, “right now.”

 Tarquin steps around to join him, leaning down to inspect the sword. “Yes,” he murmurs, taking it from the blacksmith’s hand. “That’s very good.”

 The blacksmith lets it slip from his hand, more from the shock at Tarquin’s audacity than any real strength he has.

 “And don’t you dare speak to me like that ever again.” Tarquin slaps the blacksmith across the face before he turns and leaves the shop, sword in hand.

 The woman has just quieted her baby on the street outside. Tarquin brushes by them, almost knocking the baby out of her arms on his way.

 He knocks into someone hurrying towards the speaker’s box; they’re carrying a tray of tankards that are steaming gently in the cold air. “I’ll take that.” Tarquin takes one of the tankards without waiting for an answer and strides on. He takes a large gulp, coughs at the strength of the eggnog, and proceeds to drain it and tosses the tankard into the snow once it’s emptied.

 Lorenza watches them all go on their way and turns towards one of the smaller shops at the edge of the square. It has the name Bob’s Bargain Bottles on a bottle-shaped sign above the door that is hanging crooked from one chain and is swinging in the wind.

 She enters to find it little more than a crooked shack inside with shelves lining the walls. Every shelf is lined with unlabelled bottles.

 “Welcome to Bob’s Bargain Bottles, I’m Bob.” A man straightens up behind the counter. “Can I interest you in any of my bottles for a bargain?”

 “What are they?”

 “That’s part of the mystery, the mystique if you will, of Bob’s Bargain Bottles.” He speaks fast and with a ready grin. “Each one only fifty gold, guaranteed to be a surprise every time.”

 “I don’t find out until I use them?” Lorenza raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

 “Yes indeed, got it in one. Some will be harm, some will do good, and some – some are just for a good time, if you know what I mean.” He winks. The smile hasn’t slipped from his face.

 “I will take… four of them,” Lorenza says. “Do I get to choose the bottles?”

 “Of course, of course.”

 Lorenza examines the bottles carefully and picks out four of them, placing them on the counter.

 “Excellent choices. Two hundred gold?” He holds out his hand.

 Lorenza hands over the gold. “Can you tell me what they are now?”

 “A mystery, my dear.” He winks. “But there is no harm amongst them, I can tell you that much.”

 Lorenza rolls her eyes and puts the bottles in her bag.

 Brine-Blood enters and squints at the shelves.

 “Hello and welcome to Bob’s Bargain Bottles,” says Bob. “I’m Bob. Can I interest you in any of my bottles for a bargain?”

 “I will buy… one,” Brine-Blood says.

 “Fifty gold for a bottle,” Bob replies. “Would you like to choose it yourself?”

 Brine-Blood tosses the gold over and takes a bottle at random from the shelves.

 “Excellent choice, sir, I’m sure it’ll come in handy in no time.”

 Brine-Blood and Lorenza leave the shop together, Brine-Blood uncorking the bottle and sniffing at it.

 “Ar, it’s not booze,” he says, sounding disappointed.

 “I think this one is.” Lorenza opens one of her bottles and sniffs at it. “Would you like to swap?”

 “Aye, go on then.” Brine-Blood offers her his bottle.

 They swap and walk towards the tavern, and Brine-Blood drains the bottle on the way.

 Kitty is sitting at a table in the tavern side of the building, her hands wrapped around a large tankard. She’s watching the room at large, her back to the wall, the tip of her tail twitching ever so slightly.

 At the side of the bar is a small human child. He’s leaning on a crutch that looks as battered as he is, keeping his broken leg from resting on the floor. The bartender had spoken with him briefly, voice softening from the gruff voice he’d employed when serving Kitty and the other patrons, and talked him through the plucked birds that were on display against the wall, kept chill by some spell built into the shelf they were placed on. The child had eventually pointed to the smallest one and was now counting out worn copper coins from a threadbare pouch.

 He'd been at it a while. Every so often he drops a couple of coins as the pile in his hand gets unwieldy and has to start again.

 Kitty is trying not to watch him too close; it had tipped from amusement to annoyance within the twitch of her tail.

 Brine-Blood enters the tavern more quietly than his initial arrival. They spot the child because he jumps at their entrance and the cold gust of air that blows in after them, spilling coins across the floor.

 Brine-Blood lets out a bark of laughter and takes a swig from the bottle in his hand, watching the child struggle to pick all his coins back up.

 Kitty raises a hand to catch their attention, waving them over to her table. “He’s been at it a while. I don’t think he can count.”

 “I don’t think I can count,” Brine-Blood replies. “Never much call for it on the sea.”

 Tarquin slams open the door in their wake and strides up to the bar. “Beer,” he announces, knocking the child over.

 The child’s coins go flying across the floor and he cries out.

 Tarquin pays him no mind, fixing his gaze upon the bartender.

 One of the other patrons takes pity on the child and crouches down to start collecting coins for him.

 The bartender raises his index finger to acknowledge Tarquin, but also to gesture that he’ll just have to wait, and doesn’t look away from the child. “You alright there, Tom?”

 “Yessir,” the child replies, piping up in a reedy voice. “Sorry sir.”

 “Take your time.”

 Tarquin huffs and slams his hand on the counter. “Shocking! Shocking!”

 The bartender still does not so much as glance in Tarquin’s direction.

 Tarquin huffs again, takes the open bottle from his pocket and drinks from it. He turns and spots Kitty at her table, where Brine-Blood has joined her, and strides across to take the last seat.

 Medric and Lorenza meet in Marvo’s Miraculous Magical Medallions; Medric is already pouring over the medallions, as if trying to divine their purpose from a glance.

 “They’re beauties, aren’t they? Found them all myself. I would recommend them to anybody – each is one of a kind. Ish.”

 Medric straightens up, narrowing his eyes slightly.

 “Well – they’re mostly one of a kind. In a manner of speaking.”

 Medric leans over the counter, smiling in a way that looks as though he’s trying to be conspiratorial. “Come now, my friend, there’s no need to do the hustle on me. We both know that you don’t always just… find stuff like this lying around. From one professional to another, we can certainly cut something, don’t you agree?”

 Marvo leans in. “From one professional to another, I didn’t find these just lying about. I may have acquired them from other people who didn’t need them anymore. I can give you half off. From one professional to another.”

 “You make a fine deal, my friend,” Medric replies, grinning. “I shall take four of your finest, if you please.”

 “Why sir, they are all my finest.” Marvo unlocks the display case between them. He picks out four and places them on the top of the case on a fine cloth.

 As Medric keeps Marvo’s attention – whether by design or mere happenstance – Lorenza wanders along the other side of the shop, a hand light on top of the display case as she checks for traps and the locking mechanism.

 She flicks the catch with almost contemptuous ease and swipes two of the medallions into her bag, locking the case in her wake as if she’d never touched it.

 As Medric turns around, Lorenza steps back and tilts her head towards the door, raising her eyebrows.

 Medric nods as he takes his medallions, tucking them into his bag.

 “Brine-Blood was heading towards the tavern when I left him,” Lorenza says. “I suspect that’s where Cheds has fetched up, too.”

 “I suppose we had best join them,” Medric sighs. “We may need their bodies later.” He pauses to consider that sentence, and the implications one might draw. “For their fighting expertise, I mean.”

 Lorenza hums, studying him from the corner of her eye.

 The speaker’s box is empty now, with the night drawing in and the snow falling fiercer than ever. They hurry to the tavern, heads bowed against the snow.

 “Miss, some chestnuts?” A woman – cloaked and concealed – looms out of the shadows to offer a paper bag to Lorenza. “They have quite some bite to them, if you catch my drift.”

 Lorenza hesitates and takes the bag, tucking it into her pocket. “Thank you.”

 The woman disappears into the darkness just as quickly as she arrived.

 “One of my admiring fans, no doubt,” Lorenza says to Medric, as he opens the door of the tavern.

 Upon opening the door, music spills out about them. There is a bard performing, standing on a chair to have some height. His hat is on a stool before him, laden with coins, and there is a growing crowd of citizenry at the tables around him.

 Kitty is watching, pupils little more than slits underneath her half-closed eyelids, head tilted to the side as if to hear better.

 Brine-Blood stamping along to an off-kilter beat. “Give us a sea shanty!” he roars out, bellowing to be heard above the music and the crowd who are all cheering the bard on. On the table in front of him is a plate of five gingerbread men, already sealed in a bag for him to take away. There’s the half-eaten remains of another; a leg and an arm left, and the crumbs littered about them.

 Tarquin seems determined not to enjoy himself, scoffing every so often in the bard’s direction.

 Brine-Blood eventually stands, staggers his way to the front of the crowd, and drops a gold coin into the bard’s hat. “Give us a sea shanty, boy,” he growls out.

 The bard changes tack instantly, switching songs at the end of the chorus for a sea shanty he only seems to know part of the tune and words for.

 Brine-Blood pulls a chair over and stands on it, belting out the words over the bard’s hesitant mumbling.

 Kitty shrinks back and bares her teeth in a snarl, her ears flattening to her skull.

 Medric lets out soft tongue clicks and blows raspberries every so often, using them to cast thaumaturgy and create loud, discordant noises to interrupt Brine-Blood’s singing.

 The gathered crowd leaves in groups, grumbling about the change of noise and the spoiling of their festivities, until the only people left in the tavern are the five of them and the bartender, who has seemed unamused by their antics but unwilling to step in.

 Tarquin scoffs and turns to the counter, striding over and tapping his fingers against it to get the bartender’s attention. His eyes alight on the hidden door to the store’s black-market items.

 He barged through the door and took in the items that were arrayed on the shelves there.

 “Sir,” says the bartender, hurrying in his wake, “get out of there.”

 “I will buy this bomb and this scroll,” Tarquin says, picking up one of each, “for two hundred gold now and one of my men will deliver the rest at a later date.”

 The bartender laughs as he plucks both items from Tarquin’s hands. “Payment upfront or not at all,” he says, his voice dropping into a warning growl.

 Tarquin draws himself up. “Peasant!” he screams, and storms from the tavern.

 The bartender watches him leave, and his laughter bubbles right back up, his expression turning disbelieving and delighted all at once.

 Tarquin doesn’t so much as look back. “Goddam peasants!” he yells again from outside.

 Lorenza steps up beside the bartender, placing a hand on his arm. “Some customers are so entitled,” she says. “You must have to deal with such a lot.” She glances after Tarquin. “I do believe I saw him take something else that you didn’t retrieve.”

 “That bastard,” he spits, and runs after Tarquin. “Bring back my merchandise, you twat!”

 Lorenza watches him leave with a smile curling across her face before she slides into the room in his wake, picking up the knife boots. “I think these shall do very nicely.”

 She turns around the corner of the bar as the bartender re-enters. He eyes her, marking where she’s just readjusting her cloak, but doesn’t say anything.

 “Who do you think I am, stealing your shit, a filthy pirate?” Tarquin slams the door back open and yells across the tavern. “How dare you?”

 Lorenza slides away from the bartender as Tarquin strides back across the room to grab him by his shirt.

 “You peasant!” Tarquin yells. “I am Tarquin Chedwick Phautheringhamme the Sixth, you will give me respect!” He slaps the bartender across the face before leaving again.

 The bartender, staggering to keep his footing, stares in baffled shock after him and doesn’t retaliate.

 Lorenza slips further away from the bar, aiming for the door until she sees the bard still cowering in the corner of the room. She changes direction until she’s standing over him. “I have seen more charm and wit from a kobold.”

 The bard gazes up at her and his eyes water, which is the only warning she gets before he bursts into loud, noisy wails.

 She leaves him there and saunters from the tavern.

 Medric leaves the table, detouring to swipe the hat full of coins before he, too, heads towards the door. He pauses, looks back at the bard, and smirks as he snaps his fingers. The sound of a crow cawing fills the tavern, seeming to sit on the wall beside the bard’s ear.

 The bard jerks away from the wall and looks around, terror beginning to blank out his eyes.

 Kitty taps the table, drains the last of her drink and stands. She throws a silver piece to the child, Tom, who’s still trying to count out his coins for the pigeon on her way out the door.

 Tarquin spots the woman still trying to buy the tree beside the smithy. He strides over, smoothing his hair back into respectability and drawing himself up.

 “Excuse me,” he says, smiling gently at her. “I’d like to buy both these trees, please.” He turns his attention to the merchant.

 “Of course, if you have the money for them,” the merchant says, turning to Tarquin with a rictus smile frozen on his face.

 Tarquin all but throws the money at him.

 “So kind, good sir,” says the woman. “I could never thank you–”

 Tarquin waves at her to be quiet, taking the torch from the edge of the stall. He turns it over in his hands, admiring the flame, and then holds it to the scraggly tree first.

 It goes up instantly, as dry as it is, and Tarquin smiles in the heat of it, the fire lighting his eyes.

 The woman made a small whimper as she watched it burn up.

 Tarquin turned to the other tree.

 The merchant started forward as if to stop him, hands raised.

 “Ah-ah-ah.” Tarquin held out the torch as a barrier. “I have paid for these, so I can do with them what I wish.”

 The merchant stepped back.

 “Please, it’s my baby’s first Wintermas,” the woman says. “It would be a blessing if we could take this tree-”

 Tarquin plunges the torch into the perfect Wintermas tree and watches as it’s set alight. It takes the flame beautifully and is burning in seconds.

 The woman lets out a broken sort of whimper, her gaze fixed on the burning trees.

 Tarquin glances at her. “Fucking peasant.” He walks off.

 She starts to cry, and her baby wails with her.

 The merchant tries to put the trees out with what water he has, but even the falling snow is not enough to temper the blaze, and soon his whole stall is alight.

 The others join him. Tarquin straightens himself up and pats himself down. “I believe we’re done here,” he says, voice perfectly level.

 “To the north pole,” Kitty says, brushing snow from her fur. “What is it, child?” She sweeps her tail out of the reach of a child, who’d just been about to tug on it for her attention.

 “Take this,” the child says. He’s not Tom, but he looks similar enough that they might be related. He’s holding out a candy cane that’s already been licked down to a point at one end.

 “I… don’t think I will be,” Kitty replies, frowning.

 “Please, miss. As thanks. It may come in handy.” He holds it out to her, almost on tiptoe to reach it closer.

 Kitty takes it from him with her claws, making sure not to let it touch her fur. “As a snack for the journey, I suppose.” She turns it, examining the licked end. “Oh, that’s sharp.” Her pupils dilate momentarily before they return to an almost human size.

 The child bows to her, very shakily, and leaves.

 Lorenza lets out a cutting laugh. “You cater to a much younger audience than I’d imagined, Kitty.”

 “Got to get them while they’re young,” Kitty replies, a bite to her words as she places the candy cane into her belt beside her sword. “That’s how you get their loyalty.”

 They make their way back to the HappyJoy Toy and Tobacco Company headquarters. Inside the entrance, Tarquin’s bags have not been moved from where he dropped them upon arrival.

 “Pick up my bags!” he roars at Brine-Blood, gesturing at them.

 Brine-Blood punches him without a second’s hesitation. Tarquin staggers back, blinking, and then huffs and turns on his heel, striding away.

 Medric squints after him, shrugs, and crouches to flip open Tarquin’s bag, revealing a haphazard array of mostly loose money and a few supplies that could be called useful. He takes as much as he can, splitting it between himself and Brine-Blood with a mutter of, “I think we could make use of this more easily, yes?”

 The secretary watches all of this with a perfectly blank face. “The mages are waiting for you on the third floor,” she says, her voice bored. “The lift will take you right there.”

 Kitty tips the secretary a wink as she passes, unconcerned when she doesn’t get a response.

 They take the lift up to the mage’s floor, where they are met by a mage who can’t be much more than a teenager.

 They eye the group and step back, giving them room to leave the lift. “One teleportation circle to the North Pole?” they ask.

 “That would be us.” Medric nods, keen gaze sweeping across the room that the mage shows them into.

 “So – um, you’ll need this.” The mage hurries to keep pace with them, fumbling through their robes to pick out a snowglobe. “It, uh, it’ll be your way home–”

 “Taran,” says an older mage. “Help finish the circle.”

 The teenage mage twists on their heel and flees towards the circle being drawn on the floor.

 The room they’ve been led into is lined with shelves of trinkets and with desks pushed back up against the shelves to give space for the circle that’s being drawn on the floor by a group of younger mages, all conferring and working together to put the symbols in the right place.

 Medric drifts away from the group to examine the nearest shelf of orbs, picking one with a flurry of snow shifting in the centre of it up. He tosses it from palm to palm, feeling the cold emanating from it.

 “That’s very experimental, we haven’t quite finished testing it,” says the older mage.

 Lorenza, on the other side of the room, looks around and then picks up a nutcracker doll, turning it over in her hands before sliding it into her bag before anyone sees.

 “Then we shall test it for you, if we get the chance.” Medric pockets it. “Now. One use in this, you said?” He waves the teleportation globe.

 “Yes, and not a large range on it so you’ll need to stay close. It doesn’t stay open long once it’s activated.”

 Medric nods.

 “The teleportation circle is ready,” says one of the younger mages, stepping back from where she and others had been marking out the necessary equations on the floor.

 The group steps into the centre of the circle as one of the older mages steps forward, doing their best not to get too close to each other.

 The older mage gives them a very unimpressed look as he inspects the circle for accuracy. One of the younger ones mutters something unintelligible to their friend, and they both stifle giggles that aren’t cowed by Brine-Blood glaring at them in the least.

 “Please keep your hands and feet inside the teleportation circle until the glow fades,” says the mage, looking bored as he shakes his sleeves back to free his hands.

 Kitty flicks her tail around her ankle seconds before the spell is cast. The circle starts to glow, ramping up to blinding brightness within seconds, and the room disappears from their view.

 The light fades slowly and they take longer to blink away the last of the flash before their surroundings come into focus.

 An icy plain stretches out before them until it meets a huge cliff that towers in the distance. Everything is sheer white, glowing under the waving light of the aurora that plays across the cloudless sky.

 The wind is howling across the plain, throwing snow up from the ground in swirling gusts that occasionally obscure their view.

 Tarquin staggers off to the side, muttering about taking a piss.

 The group walks forward, feet crunching through the pristine snow, heading towards the cliff. As they get closer, figures become apparent, standing in rows as if an army on parade.

 “Snowmen,” Kitty says.

 They don’t appear to be moving.

 “Santa has an army?” Lorenza asks. “Maybe if one of us pretends to be Santa and tells them to fuck off?” She sorts through her bag. “I’m sure I have enough in here to disguise one of us.”

 “Our friend here does look like Santa.” Medric claps Brine-Blood’s shoulder.

 “Arr, the imposter,” Brine-Blood grumbles, “I’ve never heard of him before.” He walks forward until he’s alone before the lines of snowmen and brushes the snow from his coat. “Ahoy, mateys. Me loyal crew.” He raises his voice to speak to them. “I’m this… Santa. Eh… carry on now. Ignore us.”

 The snowman in front – a larger fellow, with three blue gems positioned down its front for the buttons, arms carved from snow at its sides, coal eyes and a carrot for a nose – turns to face them and smiles. “Good Wintermas eve to you!” It exclaims. “I am Frosty. Welcome to the North Pole! Wintermas is tomorrow, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for your presents.”

 “Presents?” Brine-Blood asks.

 “Yes, of course. You’ll get presents at home. Tomorrow.” Frosty is still smiling. “It’s Wintermas Eve.”

 “I had a home,” Brine-Blood says. “Me ship. And then it was stolen from me by my ex-wife!” he roars. “I have no home anymore. I will get it some day. She better not be getting my shit! I already pay enough in alimony,” he subsides in a grumble.

 “You need to go home,” Frosty repeats. “And wait for your presents. Wintermas is tomorrow. You can’t come past here now, or you’ll spoil the magic of Wintermas. Everyone’s working really hard because–”

 “I go where I please!”

 Frosty’s benevolent smile widens too far, becoming a gaping slash across its face that reveals sharpened icicles for teeth, and its eyes turn red. “Wintermas is tomorrow,” it repeats, its voice turning as cold and sharp as the wind. “Turn around and go home.”

 “I don’t give a shit about Wintermas!” Brine-Blood proclaims. “I don’t even know what it fucking is. I’m not going home. Who are you to tell me what to do?”

 Behind him, Tarquin rejoins the other three. “What’s happening?” he asks.

 “Brine-Blood is telling the snowmen to get out of our way,” Lorenza replies.

 “I don’t believe it’s going well for him,” Kitty says, her eyes fixed on the taller snowman.

 “He has no commanding presence.” Tarquin sniffs dismissively. “Of course it’s not going well. Peasants.”

 “Well,” Medric starts to walk forward, closing the gap between him and Brine-Blood, “he has just drawn his swords. I suggest we join him.”

 “To get paid, if nothing else,” Lorenza says, grumbling slightly as she follows.

 “I don’t suppose you even need the money,” Kitty says to Tarquin, stretching herself up and rolling her neck like she’s limbering up. She doesn’t wait for an answer before she bounces off across the plain in pursuit of the others.

 Brine-Blood stabs forward with his rapier, slicing it into Frosty’s snowy body. One of his strikes pings off one of the blue gems that decorates Frosty’s front, scratching one of its faces. He follows up with his cutlass as Frosty raises an arm free of his side to block him, and beds it deep in the snow there.

 Frosty exhales a chilling breath. Medric yanks his cutlass up and uses Frosty’s own arm to block the attack and comes out of it unscathed.

 The two snowmen that flank Frosty, in the front line, break into motion and lunge at Brine-Blood. One misses as Brine-Blood pulls his cutlass free and steps backwards, but the other crashes into him with a roar of fury and cuts through the thick arm of his coat to draw blood. As his blood began to bead, it crystalised almost immediately and held there, sticking his coat to his arm.

 Brine-Blood attacks again, stabbing at Frosty. His first blow pierces through Frosty’s body, but his second is thrown off by snow shifting under his foot. He regains his footing only to have Frosty bludgeon him backwards with his arm.

 Kitty arrives first, bounding through the snow. She lands beside Frosty and pulls her rapier free, lunging to attack. Her attack misses

 “how very interesting! Animated snow creatures. This demands some… experimentation and study!” Medric grins, speaking largely to himself. “How much pain are they able to absorb?” He flings out a hand and releases two bolts of eldritch energy.

 One hits a glancing blow to Frosty’s head, but the other soars straight past him and into the stationary snowman behind a row behind him.

 “Come on Archimedes, I took all the gold that you told me to take, surely you can let me hit things!” Medric stalks forward until he’s behind Brine-Blood and taps him on the shoulder. “You’re doing good work. Archimedes likes it when you hurt things.”

 A hard, shimmering glow surrounds Brine-Blood, spreading out from where Medric has placed his hand.

 “Eh? What?” Brine-Blood grunts.

 Medric lifts his hand and backs away. The shield he’s cast on Brine-Blood fades almost out of sight, but holds.

 Lorenza loops on one of the medallions that she’d bought in town as she runs to the edge of the lines of snowmen and yells out, “I’m going to melt your face!” at the nearest of Frosty’s two companions. She reaches into her bag and throws one of the chestnuts at it.

 The chestnut lands and explodes on impact in a great blast of fire that hits Frosty and the other snowmen in the lines around it as well. The snowmen behind are melted almost instantly, little more than cooling puddles of water.

 The two forerunners and Frosty are tilted, misshapen as their snow is forcibly melted.

 One turns to swipe at Kitty, who leaps out of the first lunge with a yowl, only to be hit with its second swing.

 She puffs herself up, enraged, and the snowman melts further into the snow at its base, disappearing in an instant.

 The other snowman follows suit, disappearing into the snow only to appear and lunge at Lorenza. She steps back, avoiding the first swipe but can’t dodge the second as it buffets her backwards.

 Brine-Blood stabs Frosty once more and swipes up with his rapier.

 The gems in Frosty’s front crack and fall free, and his body stiffens as the animating spirit shatters and dies.

 Brine-Blood roars in triumph and runs for the snowman attacking Lorenza, stabbing first with his rapier and following up with his cutlass.

 The snowman shrieks but doesn’t dissipate.

 The other snowman reappears by Medric, forming up from the snow beside him and looking almost whole again, if a little bit smaller.

 Medric shrieks and stumbles backwards

 “You,” Kitty hisses, still puffed up and glaring at the snowman that had moved to attack Medric. She stalks forward, tail lashing behind her. “You will regret that.”

 The snowman swipes towards Medric but it falters and misses, attention twitching slightly towards where Kitty stands in the snow, still glaring at it.

 Medric takes the opportunity to blast it with two bolts of eldritch energy. One flies wide, but the other smacks into its shoulder, sending snow flying off.

 Lorenza gives the snowman in front of her a dismissive glance. “Flee back to where you come from or you’ll feel my stabby boot in your face.”

 The snowman tilts its head towards her as if it’s measuring her words, but it didn’t so much as move.

 Lorenza turns and spins, lifting her foot to plunge her knifed boots into the snowman’s face. When she pulls her foot back, the snowman freezes solid and the guiding spirit fades from its coal eyes.

 “Are you not done yet?” Tarquin roars from somewhere beyond Medric. “You peasants!”

 The last snowman snaps its attention to Tarquin. It disappears into the snow and reappears in front of him. It swings its arms at him and knocks him over into the snow.

 Tarquin struggles back to his feet and punches the snowman, sinking his fist into its face. He tries to follow that up with another punch but misses and only manages to spin himself around and fall back onto the ground himself.

 Brine-Blood charges into the rows of snowmen and starts attacking with abandoned. “Come at me, ye cowards! Which one of you is going to try me next?”

 None of the snowmen react; they are simply piles of snow, with no animating force.

 Kitty, her eyes still on the snowman that was looming over Tarquin, starts to stalk towards it, picking up speed and holding her sword ready.

 Medric turns about and launches more bolts of eldritch at the snowman’s back.

 The first misses, and Medric yells a curse at his patron before he fires the second, which does smack deep into its back and explode there.

 The snowman, however, is still in enough of a piece to keep fighting.

 “Curious,” says Medric. “It appears to work even without a spinal column.”

 Lorenza pulls her crossbow from her back and fires once she is within her range. Her bolt hits the partially destroyed snowman in the back, but it barely takes any notice of it.

 The snowman dissolves into snow and reappears in front of Medric, smacking him back with an arm.

 He staggers back but keeps his footing and doesn’t seem too badly hurt for it.

 Tarquin gets to his feet and finally unsheathes his sword to attack the snowman. His swing is wild but it takes the snowman’s head off and the whole of it freezes where it stands. “You’re fucking welcome, you fucking peasants.”

 “Well,” Kitty says, brushing snow from the blade of her rapier, “that was a frosty welcome.”

 They turn around to see Brine-Blood still slicing his way through the rows of stationary snowmen; most of them are little more than lumps on the ground.

 “Well.” Medric pulls on gloves. “Does anyone need some healing?”

 “I could do with some, after doing all the heavy lifting for you,” Tarquin says.

 “Alright, Cheds,” Medric replies. “I see you’ve already taken the anaesthetic?”

 “Tarquin,” he replies haughtily.

 Medric pulls an array of saws and hammers from his bag, muttering to himself about what tool would be best for the job. He gets to work and soon has Tarquin bandaged and healed but no less drunk.

 “Thank you,” Tarquin says. “Peasant.”

 Medric stabs one last needle into Tarquin and leaves it there.

 Tarquin slips Medric ten gold as Medric leaves him to fix up Brine-Blood, who also gives him ten gold for it.

 Medric shrugs at the extra coins and drops them into his bag.

 Kitty rubs her hands together as she pads across to join them.

 “Cold?” Lorenza asks, raising an eyebrow. “What’s all that fur for, if it’s not keeping you warm?” She darts a scathing look across Kitty. “It’s not doing you any other favours.”

 Kitty laughs lightly and pats her hand over the ruffled fur and the cut that the snowman had inflicted on her. “And I thought I would be the catty one here.” There’s a soft glow under her palms and she lifts it away to show the cut healed.

 “The way is clear!” Brine-Blood announces, pointing with his rapier towards the cliff.

 There’s a jagged slash running from its base, wide at first but narrowing to a knife’s edge and disappearing before it reaches the top. There appears to be lights within it, lighting the way along the passage

 “Well alright then,” Medric says. “Let us continue.”

 The passage inside the cliff face is easy at first, the path wide enough for everyone to keep their own council. The rock underfoot is smooth and cold, eventually becoming ice. As the last of the light from outside fades, the walls widen out until the group can barely see them. There are lanterns bobbing in the air that throw out enough light to see that they are hovering over an abyss. The path has narrowed to an icy bridge that two people could cross beside each other.

 They can’t hear the wind now; instead, it has been replaced by the low, irregular rumbling of rock and ice moving around them. Ice occasionally breaks and falls from the unseen ceiling, shattering on the bridge or falling down into the unseen depths. There were creatures flying in the cavern.

 Kitty tilted her head up, narrowing her eyes as she spots them. “Oh,” she says, “those are… some fucked up deer.” She sounds cheerful at the prospect.

 Two of the deer land on the bridge before them, and the light from the nearest lantern is thrown across them. They look mostly like reindeer; grey-brown shaggy hides, cloven hooves, antlers. But on a too-long inspection, the cloven hooves are sharp enough to slice, and the antlers are decorated with thorns along their lengths that are almost long enough to be tines themselves.

  Lorenza steps forward and focuses on the front reindeer. She appears to whisper something, but no one hears what she says.

 The effect is instantaneous; the reindeer rears up with a dreadful squeal and turns, running the length of the bridge away from Lorenza.

 The other reindeer paces towards Lorenza but stops short, digging its hooves into the ice and screaming in defiance.

 The first reindeer seems to shake off its fear and also strides forward, though not as far; it seems to be a little more cautious about getting near Lorenza again.

 Medric stays where he is at the start of the bridge and narrows his gaze as he stares at the foremost reindeer. From his pocket, he rolls a desiccated eyeball between his fingers and crushes it, whispering something under his breath.

 The reindeer paws at the ground and tosses its antlers, uneasy under his focus.

 Then Medric flicks out a hand, launching two eldritch blasts towards it. Both hit, slicing one after the other into its chest.

 “Hey Donner!” Kitty calls, “Looks like this might be a strain, deer, why don’t you just leave before you blitz it, lamedeer?” her voice rises into a yowl as she finishes yelling.

 The reindeer shakes its head, stumbling as it pulls back, one foot almost sliding over the edge of the bridge.

 Tarquin staggers forward, his sword in his hand. “Fucking… fuck.” He stumbles, almost falling over, but saves himself by stabbing his sword into the ice as a support.

 Brine-Blood strides forward until he’s standing beside Lorenza and pulls a crossbow from under his coat. He aims at the further away reindeer and fires, hitting it in the shoulder. He grunts in satisfaction and starts to reload.

 Lorenza fires her own crossbow at the deer in front of her, but the bolt glances against the deer’s antler as it shakes its head and goes wide, catching instead in one of the floating lights.

 Unperturbed, she walks forward until she is within touching distance of the reindeer.

 The reindeer tries to bite her.

 Lorenza smacks it away. “Don’t do that! I’ll bite you back!”

 The reindeer pulls back, startled.

 The other reindeer flies forward to stand almost in front of Brine-Blood and lets out a blast of frosty breath that crystalises over both Brine-Blood and Tarquin.

 Tarquin throws up his hand to shield his face. “Fucking garbage,” he spits out, the ice ripping into his arms and drawing blood.

 Brine-Blood takes the brunt of it, too close to shield effectively.

 Medric starts laughing and flings out two more bolts of eldritch energy; one goes wide, but the other smacks straight into the reindeer’s head, square between its eyes. “The healing is not as rewarding as the hurting!” he yells between bouts of laughter.

 Kitty snickers and puffs herself up to yell at the other deer, “Hey, just hoof do you think you are? You’re barely Comet-ing anything to this fight, I think you need to work on your gains, deer!”

 “Fucking cretins,” Tarquin scoffs, and pushes past Lorenza and between the two deer.

 One turns and snaps at him, slicing overly sharp teeth into his shoulder and ripping through with devastating ease.

 Brine-Blood lashes out at the reindeer as it turns to lunge at Tarquin and misses with his rapier twice before he slashes into its side with his cutlass, drawing blood in a thin line along its ribs.

 Lorenza pulls out two rapiers with a flourish and attacks the reindeer in front of her. She misses with one as the deer intercepts it with its antlers, but the other sinks home and the reindeer lets out a dreadful shriek.

 It launches itself from the bridge and circles before diving straight for where Medric and Kitty still stand at the entrance of the pathway. As it lands, it breathes out frost and hardens the ice in the air, shooting it at the two of them.

 Kitty darts backwards with a hiss and Medric half turns to shield himself from the brunt of it, but they’re both distinctly frostbitten when the deer stops its attack.

 Medric curses as his footing slips, but he doesn’t fall.

 The other deer lunges at Lorenza to take a bite but she slaps it away with the flat of one of her blades.

 Medric eyes the deer in front of him, seeing all the bleeding wounds that have been inflicted across it. He resettles his footing and hisses out a curse, pulling a desiccated eyeball from his bag and crushing it as he does so.

 Then he flicks his hand up in another gesture and two bolts of eldritch energy fly forwards. One glances off the deer’s antlers, but the other smacks into one of its open wounds and burns there until the deer rears back, screams, and collapses in a heap to the ground in front of Medric.

 Medric nods and dusts his hands, looking slightly revitalised by the ordeal. He strides forward and announces, “In my medical opinion, staying in this area increases our chance of death.”

 “Yeah, it’s not like these feign-deer are good for anything other than dying!” Kitty calls from behind him. “I think they’re beginning to wane-deer!” She turns her attention to Brine-Blood. “Up and at ‘em, o Captain my Captain, and may good fortune attend ‘ee!” Her voice roughens, taking on the accent of a sailor as if she’s mimicking him.

 Brine-Blood lets out a roar and throws himself at the last reindeer, bringing both of his swords to attack.

 It falls back under his onslaught and then falls to the ground in its dying throes.

 “Looks like you got sleighed, deer,” Kitty says as she joins him.

 Tarquin has walked across the rest of the bridge without waiting for them, towards a crack at the end that seems to glow with a soft light.

 The others follow in his wake and find the crack much bigger than it looked at first – easily wide and tall enough for them to walk through without difficulty.

 Tarquin has already gone through.

 “Well, there hasn’t been any screams of pain,” Medric says, almost sounding disappointed.

 “Or any grumblings at all.” Lorenza walks forward.

 “Ar, if there be more of those deer, I’ll slay ‘em all,” Brine-Blood grumbles.

 The four of them step through the wall and emerge into a cavern that is drastically different from the rest of their journey through the snowy wastes.

 It’s lit up with a warm golden light that doesn’t seem to have a specific source. There is snow falling from high above that isn’t cold to the touch. Striped candy cane fencing lines a stone path that leads forward to a central square that is dominated by a giant Wintermas tree. There are three gingerbread houses at opposite sides of the square, set back along paths, and against the far wall is a tall stone archway.

 Directly above the start of the path before them, hanging between two stalactites by tinsel, is a green banner with a phrase in Elvish written in silver writing.

 Brine-Blood squints at the banner. “I never did learn me letters.”

 “It’s not in Common,” Medric replies. “I believe that it’s Elvish.”

 “It’s probably not important.” Kitty hums, looking around. Her tail twitches behind her. “But something smells delightful.”

 “It says He knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you’re awake,” Lorenza says. “Creep.” She cuts across the ground between the paths, heading for the nearest building. Kitty follows her.

 Tarquin wanders in the opposite direction, staggering heavily from side to side.

 Brine-Blood seems distracted; he appears to still be trying to make sense of the banner. Medric attempts to take advantage of his concentration to dip a hand into his bag.

 He pulls out the darkvision goggles and a stone with a hole through it.

 “Those are mine,” Brine-Blood roars, swinging around to punch Medric in the face. “And don’t you forget it!”

 Medric steps out of the way. “I was simply returning them to your bag! They were falling out, after that harrowing fight with the reindeer.”

 “How dare you steal me shit! Only I can steal shit.” He storms off after Lorenza and Kitty.

 Medric follows, and they catch up with them at the door.

There’s a small sign with more Elvish on it. They appear to be made of chocolate, with the words written in hard icing.

 “Santa’s Biscuit Lab.” Lorenza crouches before the sign as if to study it, and then leans in and licks it. “Oh, it is actually chocolate. Not even slightly fusty.” She stands back up and pushes open the door to enter.

 Strange machinery lines the walls of this gingerbread house. There are bags of ingredients piled up in boxes and on the shelves. At the far end of the room is a bench with seven silver plates fixed to the top, each with a small pile of biscuits on it.

 Medric wanders along the rows of ingredients, muttering to himself as he works out what they are. There are two barrels next to each other at the end with their labels on their lids. He opens them both and finds one to be raisins, the other chocolate drops.

 He places the lid from the chocolate barrel on top of the raisins and looks around for anywhere he can throw the chocolate drops after he’s stuffed his pocket with as many as he can fit.

 They end up in the giant oven, which still has enough of a fire going to burn it up.

 Brine-Blood pokes into the crates of dust and snorts a line of one off the back of his hand. He sneezes and blinks. “Arr, I want to help people! I want to help you guys… ruin Wintermas for everybody else!”

 Kitty tilts her head, frowning from where she stands in the doorway. “I should hope so, or we’re not getting paid.”

 Lorenza frowns and wanders over to examine the powders, and finds jars of liquid beside them that have what look like bits of brain floating in them. “I thought this Santa was supposed to be all… good cheer and happiness, but that looks like brain he’s using in these.”

 “That sounds highly suspect,” Kitty says.

 “And these, over here,” Lorenza looks at the plates of biscuits laid out, “do you think they’ve got some of these weird ingredients in them?”

 Brine-Blood stumbles over and grabs one, shoving it into his mouth without hesitation. He collapses to the ground with a groan.

 “Fascinating,” Medric says, taking out his notebook to document this. He scans the desk for any recipes or notes that he could take. “I would like to be able to replicate this at a later date.”

 There are seven different designs on the biscuits, each one on a separate plate. Brine-Blood had taken one with a tree on it; there are also stars, moons, presents, holly, snowmen, and Santa hats. There is a scrap of paper under the plate with the tree biscuits on it that says they have brain stem fluid and infused essence of consciousness in them that creates an “identifiable loss in intelligence” in anyone that eats one.

 “Fascinating,” Medric repeats. “I am tempted to set up shop here and experiment more with this.”

 “Unless there is more of a clue as to what those biscuits do, I suggest we look elsewhere. I’m certainly not putting my life on the line to find out what they do,” Kitty says.

 “There might be something in one of the other buildings,” Lorenza replies. “Let’s go.”

 Kitty backs out of the door and turns to spot Tarquin staggering his way into the building on the far side of the square. “Let’s see what our local rich prat is up to, hm?” She bounds across to join him, wrinkling her nose at the strong scent of hay and chocolate.

 There’s a sign outside, all chocolate and icing, but it’s still written in gnomish so she pays it no attention.

 The door is wide open and from inside is the sound of snoring.

 Kitty peers around the door and then sneaks in, padding silently across the gingerbread flooring and straw.

 Tarquin staggers in and starts to piss against the first closed door he sees.

 Kitty watches in disbelief as the sound – and the smell – wakes the reindeer inside the stall up and it starts to kick down the door.

 Another one wakes up further in the stables.

 Kitty leans back to see the others outside. “Cheds has woken up two more of those reindeer,” she says flatly.

 Brine-Blood stares at her. “Ok.” He turns and walks away.

 Medric hesitates. “I will be back.” He turns and runs back towards the biscuit factory.

 The further away reindeer breaks out of its stall first and charges at Tarquin with its antlers lowered to gore him.

 Tarquin doesn’t even try to move out of the way, and several of its tines stab into him, ripping further with the small thorns that litter the length of its antlers.

 “I’m fucking Tarquin Chedwick Phautheringhamme the Sixth. Fuck off you stupid fucking animals!” He yells at it, swaying back on its antlers.

 The reindeer backs up at the sudden noise, pulling its antlers free and flees back to its stall. The one in the stall by Tarquin also stops trying to kick its way out and quietens down.

 Kitty, watching all this from the shadows of the doorway with a horrified sense of impressed, shuffles further in when it becomes apparent that the reindeer aren’t going to come out of their stalls.

 Lorenza joins her in the shadows and shoots a cursory glance around the stables. “Something worthwhile up the back, perhaps?” She nods to where there is a table beneath the halters hanging on the wall.

 Kitty nods and scrambles over there, stretching up to bat at the glint of gold she spots on a shelf.

 A small statue of a reindeer falls on its side. It has a ruby nose as its defining feature, and is carved in an alert position.

 “Ooh,” Kitty purrs, her eyes dilating. “Wait, they’re called paindeer?”

 “I suppose they are different to normal reindeer,” Lorenza says, joining her. “What is it?”

 “Isn’t it pretty?” Kitty shows her it. “It’s a summon item for one of the deer. They’ll work for us. Or – well, me.” She smiles. “We are going to cause such carnage.”

 Behind them, Tarquin leaves the stable.

 Medric is just leaving the biscuit factory as they leave the stable, his arms full of a bag of the biscuits.

 Lorenza looks towards the gate on their right. From here, she can see that the air within the archway has a shimmering, water-like quality. “That feels like something’s going to come through there,” she says.

 “Oh, these biscuits are really good,” Brine-Blood says to Tarquin. “You should try them.”

 “There’s some food in this godsforsaken place?” Tarquin asks. “Give it to me.”

 Brine-Blood grabs one of the biscuits with a Santa hat on it and offers it to Tarquin.

 Tarquin bites into it and blinks as it almost seems to set off a bolt of inspiration in him.

 Brine-Blood frowns. “Ar, that won’t have filled ye up, lad, have another.” He grabs one with holly drawn on the top of it.

 Tarquin eats it and is instantly knocked onto his backside.

 Medric is watching this with curiosity, jotting down notes in his book again.

 Tarquin gets shakily to his feet, a glazed expression on his face. He starts to wander away, staggering towards the stone archway.

 “Here, before you go,” Medric says, holding out a biscuit with the moon decorated on it.

 Tarquin takes it and eats the biscuit.

 They watch as he staggers to the archway and under it. For a second, the shimmering air holds him steady.

 Then Tarquin disappears.

 “Do you – is that what that’s supposed to do?”

 “I did not get notes on what that biscuit did,” Medric says, seeming more disappointed at that prospect than the fact that Tarquin disappeared.

 “We shan’t miss him, shall we?” Kitty asks.

 “That’s clearly a portal to somewhere,” Lorenza replies. “But I wonder if he can come back.”

 “Perhaps there is a clue in the last building.” Medric looks over at it. “Or Santa will be in there and we can finish the job.”

 Unlike the other buildings, the door to this one is locked and there are striped bars on the windows.

 “Want to lick those and tell us what they’re made of?” Kitty nudges Lorenza.

 “Candy cane, by the looks of them.” Lorenza frowns. She glances at the chocolate sign in front of the building, which says Ho-Ho-Holding Cell.

 Lorenza steps up to the windows and peers in. Inside the room there is a cage that takes up almost half the space, within which there is a wild-eyed gnome with bright green hair.

 “Here, there’s someone inside.” She looks back at the others. “Also, if the building’s are gingerbread, why doesn’t he just eat his way out?”

 “You could always eat our way in,” Kitty says, leaning on the sign. “If you felt like it.”

 Lorenza hums and knocks her hand against the wall. “I admit, I have been curious.” she breaks a piece off to eat.

 She takes a sizeable chunk but the walls are thick and it doesn’t make enough of a difference.

 “Can’t we just kick it down?” Medric pushes the door.

 “You can try,” says Lorenza, her mouth full.

 Medric pulls a mace out of his bag and starts to hit the wall with it.

 Cracks spread out from the place where Lorenza had taken a chunk from the wall, but otherwise the building holds.

 Brine-Blood kicks at the wall, creating more fissures, but for all his enthusiasm, the wall doesn’t buckle. “Yarr,” he says, sounding almost impressed, “this door be a mighty foe.”

 Kitty slips forward and kneels before the door, taking a bundle of tools from the pouch on her skirt.

 “I’ll cut it down!” Brine-Blood says, pulling his sword out.

 “Wait a minute!” Kitty yowls, ducking his wild swing. “I’m picking the lock, just give me – there we go.” The door swings open at her push.

 The person in the cell looks up at the movement, getting to his feet.

 “Are you a ho?” Kitty asks, and smiles disarmingly.

 “Ho – what is this ho shit?” Brine-Blood asks from behind her. “He’s got it wrong, it’s yo ho-ho. Fucking bastard.” He strides in, right up to the bars of the cell. “Who be ye and why be ye here, lad?”

 “My name is Dave Grinch,” he replies. “I’m a prisoner of Santa. I’ve been locked in here because what Santa is doing is wrong. He’s trying to bring joy and happiness to everyone around the world, and it’s just not right. What he’s after just isn’t right! My tribe has gone missing, and I followed their tracks here. I’m sure Santa has taken them hostage. If you free me and bring me the head of Santa, I’ll help you into the workshop. And,” he continues, scanning over all of them as if he’s trying to work out what will make them agree, “as a reward, I can create you any item that you wish.”

 Medric hums, intrigued.

 Brine-Blood narrows his eye as he stares down Dave Grinch.

 Dave Grinch grins back at him, a desparate gleam in his eyes.

 “Arr, well, I was going to kill the bastard anyway,” Brine-Blood says, “So ye’re free, my boy!” He swings his sword at the lock, chopping it in half.

 Dave Grinch steps cautiously out of the cell. “Thank you,” he says, and holds out a scrap of paper. “You – you’ll need this.”

 Brine-Blood stares at it. “Ar, again, I cannot read!”

 “What is it, an IOU?” Kitty asks.

 Lorenza takes the scrap of paper from Dave Grinch and reads it out. “The moon biscuits give safe passage through the portal. The Santa Hat biscuits provide inspiration. The tree, present, and holly biscuits cause unsteadiness and mild insanity.”

 “Too late for that, but sure,” Brine-Blood mutters.

 “Ah, so we didn’t have to go straight for human trials.” Kitty shrugs. “Oops.”

 Medric and Brine-Blood laugh, Medric still with that look in his eye that suggests he will be trialling more of them regardless.

 “I will stay in here,” Dave Grinch says. “Santa will be waiting for you in his workshop.”

 “Well,” Kitty says, stretching herself out, “Let’s go kill Santa.”

 “So what’s through the portal?” Brine-Blood asks.

 “I’m not sure,” Dave Grinch replies. “I’ve never been. But I’m fairly sure that it’s just Santa’s Workshop.”

 Brine-Blood nods.

 As they walk towards the portal, Medric hands the moon biscuits out to the other three, taking one for himself.

 “Who wants to bet on what’s happened to Chedwick?” Kitty asks.

 “Whatever it is, I hope there is enough of a body left,” Medric replies.

 Tarquin stumbles as the swirl of light leaves him, almost ending up on his knees.

 He��s in an unbelievably huge room. It’s a giant stone dome, with a roof enchanted to show stars and the aurora above. The same gentle golden light of the grotto is present here, illuminating rows upon rows of small stone altars, all arrayed in such a way to face the circular plinth that is raised up from the centre of the room.

 At each altar a gnome is sat with a frozen smile upon their face, staring blankly forward. A wide aisle cuts a path through the concentric circles of altars from the portal to the centre, carpeted in red.

 On the plinth with their back to where Tarquin sways is a very far, very tall figure wearing a crown and red robes.

 Tarquin staggers his way to the first altar he can reach and pisses against it, holding himself upright against it.

 The gnome’s eyes shift to stare at Tarquin, flicking between him and the figure in the centre of the room. Nothing else of it shifts; not its expression, not its hands, not even its hair.

 Once he’s done, Tarquin staggers his way down the carpet towards the central plinth. “Ho, Claus! You alright, you fucken – fuck you! Gies a present, you cunt!”

 “Ho, ho, ho, hello my child! Wintermas isn’t until tomorrow! You need–”

 “Fucking ram it, you bearded fuck,” Tarquin replies, cutting across Santa’s speech.

 Santa locks eyes with Tarquin and the room chills imperceptibly. There’s the echo of screams and reality seems to lurch around Tarquin, bearing down upon him with all the weight of Santa’s unearthly presence.

 Tarquin takes a long swig from the bottle in his hand and burps, chucking the empty bottle in Santa’s direction. “Yeah, fuck you,” he says. “Piece of shit.”

 At this point, the other four appear at the far end of the hall, stepping through the portal. As it clears around them, Brine-Blood focuses on Santa, looking him up and down.

 “Ah fuck, he is stealing me identity! That bastard!” He brandishes his sword. “You im – you copying bastard!”

 Kitty searches in her bag and takes out the nutcracker. She twists the key in its back and sets it on the ground before her as it grows to its full height and assumes a defensive position. She pushes it gently forward to start walking down the carpet towards Tarquin and Santa Claus.

 “Wasn’t that – I took that,” Lorenza says.

 “Finders keepers.” Kitty flashes her a grin.

 Tarquin fumbles in his pockets and brings out an ornate wax seal that has the Phautheringhamme crest emblazoned on its back. He staggers closer and slams it onto Santa’s foot and it flares up with holy power that burns into Santa’s red clothing.

 He also takes the opportunity to swing wildly with his sword, but misses. The momentum sends him spinning about in a circle before he falls over.

 Tarquin lands and starts giggling, and flips Santa off. “Fuck you, Santa.” He continues to laugh.

 Brine-Blood starts striding towards Santa, pulling out his crossbow. He aims and fires, hitting Santa in the arm, and then pulls a handful of paindeer dung from his pocket and lobs that as well.

 The dung misses, hitting the throne behind Santa and exploding into fire upon impact.

 “You’re getting it!” Lorenza yells at Santa, picking one of her remaining chestnuts from her bag. “Here comes a fireball!” She runs forward before she throws it in a clean arc at Santa.

 It hits the plinth beside him and explodes.

 Santa reels backwards, his cloak alight as well as his beard.

 Tarquin is sprayed with some of the fiery shards as well, but as he’s rolling about on the floor anyway, his fires are put out in short order.

 Santa brushes the flames from his beard and locks eyes with Brine-Blood. He glares, attempting to pin him down with the same horrors as he struck Tarquin with.

 Brine-Blood meets his gaze and lets out a wordless yell, and the effect goes unnoticed.

 Medric mutters to himself, running through different scenarios and different battle plans before he eventually looks up, focuses on Santa, and hisses a curse in his direction. Then he casts his hand out and throws two bolts of eldritch energy out that streak towards Santa.

 Both of them hit Santa in the chest, sending him stepping back a pace before he steadies himself.

 The nutcracker continues its inexorable march towards Santa.

 Kitty stalks forward in its wake, ears pinned back, tail lashing, sword in hand. She spots Tarquin on the ground and smirks. “Hey, Cheds, Santa thinks you’re barely fit to be his bootlicker, let alone his servant!”

 Brine-Blood fires another bolt at Santa and hits him square in the chest. “Oh, I have these, take a bite o’ this!” He throws a gingerbread man at Santa.

 The gingerbread man falls short, but when it hits the ground it becomes animated and draws itself up to charge at Santa and attack with a scimitar made of candy cane.

 “I ate one of those,” Brine-Blood says, almost looking horrified. “No wonder me teeth hurt.”

 Tarquin, enraged by Kitty’s comments, scrambles to his feet and attacks Santa with his sword. He hits this time, cutting into Santa’s leg as he tries to bring him to the ground.

 “Take that, you stupid fucking prick,” Tarquin hisses. “Ho-ho-ho yourself to – fucking hell. Fucking ram it.”

 Lorenza’s eyes light upon the crown that Santa’s wearing and she grins. She strikes up a match and holds a piece of iron in the flame, focusing on the crown as she whispers the spell.

 Santa’s crown starts to glow with heat, getting redder and redder. He roars and snaps his burning gaze to Lorenza’s, bringing all the force of the horrors behind his glare down on her.

 Lorenza raises an eyebrow. “Your crown must be getting sore,” she says. “Why don’t you take it off?”

 With an enraged roar, Santa slaps his belly and turns to smash it into the gingerbread man attacking him.

 The gingerbread man is shattered into pieces upon impact.

 Medric strides forward, his hands glowing with dark energy as he flings another two blasts of eldritch energy out at Santa.

 Both bolts fly wild, smashing into the high walls.

 “Archimedes, why?” Medric yells. “You are supposed to be helping me! I gave you my soul, for God’s sake!”

 Kitty’s nutcracker reaches Santa and smacks him with the two drumsticks in its hands, drumming out a sharp beat on his arm.

 Kitty stalks forward in its wake. She flicks a claw out and stabs the pad of her thumb, drawing out a drop of blood. She flings the droplet forward at Santa, hissing out a curse as she does so.

 The blood hits the carpet before her, and Santa appears to be unaffected.

 Brine-Blood charges forward and stabs forward with his rapier. He catches Santa in the gut and pulls sideways, widening the wound until Santa’s clothes are stained redder with blood.

 Santa drops to his knees and then collapses forward, bleeding sluggishly from every wound inflicted on him. The burning crown on his head falls free and rolls across the ground.

 The frozen gnomes collapse into movement, some of them falling across their desks while others automatically go back to work. One by one, they realise what’s happened and a cheer rises up around the room as they step down from their plinths, rushing towards the players.

 A rising shriek of torn metal stops them in their tracks. Kitty’s ears flatten to her head as she claps her paws over them for good measure.

 The gnomes trip over themselves as they flee for the far walls, where the portal had been – the portal is gone. They are trapped here with the party, with the undulating mass of smoke and eyes and tentacles that is unravelling from the falling crown.

 “He is here!” one of them screeches, and another and another takes up the cry until every gnome is flattened to the floor at the edge of the room, heads pressed against the carpet as if in supplication to a god.

 “You have interrupted the plan.” The voice is a rasping whisper that seems to lance through their minds. “We prepare for my arrival in this world. I see your thoughts. We are not so different. Join me, and I will spare you. Wear the crown. Wield power over all minds.”

 A face appears within the writing monstrosity, its eyes seeming to burn into the party before it becomes all eyes, then flesh, folding back into tentacles that stretch out and darken the room.

 Brine-Blood transfers his attention from where Santa has collapsed to this new menace; he lunges forward with his sword, cutting through the mass of tentacles.

 Tarquin sways, not seeming to notice this new threat in favour of pissing on Santa’s body. His eyes alight on the crown that has fallen and rolled away from Santa, fetching up against the nearest plinth.

 He staggers across to it and picks it up. It’s still burning to the touch, but this doesn’t seem to bother him. “Hey guys, look! I’m fucking king!” He places the crown upon his mussed up hair.

 Screams lance through his mind and the force of the Old One turns to bear on Tarquin. He squints blearily at it and flips it off. “Fuck off,” he says. “I’m king now.”

 Lorenza pulls the last chestnut from her bag. “Fucking Tarquin.” She throws it in an arc over the Old One to explode against the throne behind it.

 It screeches as the fire sprays across it, pulling back from the throne – and closer to the group.

 Tarquin is also caught in the spray of fire; he holds an arm up to shield his face, his shirt catching fire again before he fumbles at it to pat the flames out.

 The Old One lashes out at Brine-Blood with tentacles that are beginning to look more solid with every passing second.

 Brine-Blood sidesteps one and ducks the other, and laughs at its attempt.

 “Sorry to interrupt,” Medric calls, “but I’ve already sold my soul to something far worse than you! And also, if you want a second opinion, you’re oh so ugly!” He flings out his hand to release another set of eldritch blasts.

 One flies over the Old One’s mass, but the other hits it square and seems to burrow into it, dripping excess energy until it burns itself into nothing.

 Medric nods in satisfaction and ducks behind one of the nearest plinths.

 As the nutcracker raises its drumsticks to attack the Old One, Kitty circles the plinth and crouches behind another of the work tables.

 The nutcracker’s sticks make strange percussive sounds against the Old One’s form, almost gong-like with the echo of screeches in the aftermath.

 Kitty takes out the paindeer statuette and places it before her and taps it twice.

 The statuette glows and grows, becoming a full sized paindeer with a glowing red nose.

 “That – that thing,” Kitty says, pointing at the Old One.

 The paindeer paws at the ground and screeches, its nose glowing bright enough to blind before it bursts out a ray of energy that drills into the Old One’s twisting form.

 Kitty cackles as she watches it go. “Aww, does the poor widdle meow-meow want its cwown back?” Her voice is lost in the Old One’s screech of rage.

 Brine-Blood attacks in a rage; he slices through one of the Old One’s tentacles and it falls to the ground, bubbling like acid. He pours blade poison over his second blade and attacks again in a whirlwind of blows. Not all of them hit, but he forces the Old One back until its hovering over Santa’s body once more.

 Tarquin’s hair is beginning to burn with the heat of the crown. He turns towards the Old One and tries to meet its eyes, but there are too many of them rolling wildly in the mass of its constantly changing body.

 He lets out a disgusted snort and swings his sword in its direction; rather than hitting the Old One, he overbalances and lands on the floor once more.

 The crown burns into his scalp and Tarquin passes out from the pain.

 Lorenza moves forward to beside Brine-Blood, taking both her rapiers in hand. She attacks in a flurry of blows, slicing through tentacles and stabbing one of the eyes as it appears in front of her.

 With a final screech, the Old One writhes back, coils in on itself, and disintegrates into ash.

 As it dies, Santa groans.

 “Oh!” Brine-Blood lets out a cry of disbelief. “The copycat is still alive?” He brings his sword down to Santa’s neck and hacks through it. “I’ll have no identity stealing bastards darkening me name.”

 “We are being massively underpaid for all of this,” Lorenza says.

 “We can always steal more shit when we return,” Kitty replies, stepping forward to join them. “Or negotiate for more pay. Then steal more shit.” She spots Tarquin on the floor and crouches beside him, warming up her hands.

 “No, no, wait, let the professional do it,” Medric calls. “I am a very trained doctor.”

 Kitty eyes him like she doesn’t believe him, but steps aside. “Not even just a tiny little – if I slap him, maybe he’s just asleep?”

 “Fine, fine do that, but let me do the healing.”

 Kitty grins and crouches down to slap Tarquin, raking her claws across his cheek.

 Medric hesitates. “Does someone want to take the crown off him first? I don’t like him having it.”

 Kitty eases a claw under the crown – it’s cooling down now, doesn’t hurt to touch – and flicks it away to the side. It takes some of Tarquin’s skin with it where it had melted fast.

 Medric slams a bag of medical tools down on the ground beside him and begins to grin in a spectacularly cruel way. “Let’s go practice medicine.”

 Kitty watches as he makes several incisions, even where there are no wounds. “What are you doing?” She crouches beside him, watching, curiosity alight in her eyes. “You’re one hell of a medical man, you know.”

 “I know,” Medric replies, and proceeds to take every bone from Tarquin’s body while stitching up his wounds and reviving him from the brink of death.

 When Tarquin’s eyes blink blearily open, Medric opens his mouth and deposits one of the tree decorated biscuits on his tongue and then washes it down with eggnog he took from Tarquin’s bag.

 Medric leans back, snapping his glove back on his arm. “Another successful procedure.” He gathers Tarquin’s bones into his bag with his tools and walks away.

 “Shall we take that back to Davie Grinch?” Lorenza nods at Santa’s head.

 Brine-Blood hoists it up and strides for where the portal had been.

 “Just leaving him there?” Kitty collects the paindeer statuette and the nutcracker, tucking them back into her bag.

 Medric doubles back and pours Tarquin’s blob-like body into a crate from one of the desks and lifts it onto his shoulder.

 “Do you have some of those teleport biscuits there?” Kitty asks, as they walk nearer the portal.

 But the portal opens regardless, and they walk back into the grotto.

 “Do you think there’s anything under the tree?” Lorenza asks.

 “Presents, probably.” Kitty shrugs. “I think we’re probably all on the naughty list by now.” She doesn’t sound too cut up about it.

 “Well, I’m going to look.” Lorenza strides across to it.

 There are seven presents under the tree, artfully arranged. None of them have a label to denote who it’s for, and they’re all wrapped in the same paper and with the same bow atop them.

 “I stand corrected,” Kitty says. “Perhaps we are on the nice list.”

 “Yarr, we be on some list.”

 Tarquin makes a garbled attempt at speech, but no words can be made out.

 Brine-Blood takes one of the presents and rips it open. Inside there is a horn, helpfully labelled as the ‘horn of invisibility’.

 “That seems… useful.” Lorenza grabs another one and opens it.

 Inside hers are a pair of boots labelled ‘boots of teleportation’.

 “Aw, yes!” Lorenza lifts them out and inspects them. “Oh, these will come in handy.” She reads the instructions with them and, with one hand still on the boots, says “Mango.”

 “What?” Kitty looks up.

 “Mango,” Lorenza repeats, as if that explains it.

 The boots disappear from her hands.

 “Eh?” She turns about, looking for them. “Kitty, did you just–”

 “Oh, darling, I’m good, but I’m not that good.” Kitty shrugs. “Looks like they’re defective.”

 Medric opens a smaller one and brings out a ring with a lion’s head emblazoned on it. “I assume there is also a catch to this… ring of ‘beast turning’.”

 Kitty turns one of the last presents over in her hands and picks it apart by slicing through the tape, leaving the packaging mostly undamaged. She brings out a wand with a gem that is already glowing orange. “Oh, cute!” she says. “A low level torch.” She tucks it into her belt, where it continues to glow. “Shall we open one for Cheds?”

 “You know what I’ve just realised?” Medric asks. “He looks like a blob of melted cheese. We could call him Cheddar.”

 “Yes!” Brine-Blood roars with laughter.

 “Would you like us to open a present for you, Cheddar?” Medric asks.

 Tarquin groans and attempts to say something, but again the words don’t form.

 “I’m not waiting for permission,” Kitty says, picking up one of the last presents and pulling it apart just as cleanly as she had her own.

 “I believe he said yes, open it up for him,” Medric says, lowering the crate so Tarquin can see.

 Kitty pulls out a scroll and unrolls it to reveal looping cursive script that isn’t in any language that the group understands. “Here you go.” She places it carefully on top of Tarquin.

 “There be two more,” Brine-Blood says, pulling one open. “Let’s see what else is here.”

 He pulls out a brassiere that is little more than silk triangles and silky string holding it together; it is on fire, though it isn’t burning and doesn’t hurt him to hold it.

 “Well that’s hot,” Kitty says, the flames dancing in her eyes as she fights not to smile.

 “Arr, beat me to it,” Brine-Blood groans.

 From his box, Tarquin groans loudly.

 “I don’t think they’ll fit you, Cheds,” Kitty replies.

 The last present holds a bowler hat. Medric plants it on Tarquin’s head, carefully balancing it in place.

 The hat changes to a nest, complete with a small bird nesting in it.

 “Cute,” Kitty says.

 “Let’s go and drop this off.” Brine-Blood lifts Santa’s head.

 “Just one sec.” Lorenza sorts through her bag and pulls out one of the medallions. “Here.” She loops it around Tarquin’s neck as best she can.

 What’s left of his hair billows gently in a breeze no one else feels.

 Brine-Blood leads them back into the holding cells, where Dave Grinch is sprawled out on the bed waiting for them. “Here.” He drops Santa’s head against the bars.

 “You defeated him!” Dave Grinch launched himself to his feet and rushed forward. “I am in your debt. What can I create for you?”

 “Can you create a wooden skeletal structure for our friend here?” Medric places the crate holding Tarquin on the ground.

 “Done,” says Dave Grinch, without batting an eye.

 Tarquin is filled out and stands under his own steam, not as tall as he once was. The bird’s nest stays atop his head, and his hair billows even more dramatically. There is still some sagging flesh in his legs, where the wood hasn’t quite been long enough for him.

 “Fucking peasants,” are the first words out of Tarquin’s mouth.

 “Yar,” Brine-Blood straightens up. “I be a pirate, I’ve sailed the seven seas, I’ve seen the world, I’ve plundered, I’ve looted, I’ve pillaged, and I have – you know, I’m a pirate in every sense of my being. Yet, there’s one thing I’ve never had. An animal to call me own. I would like a little parrot, on me shoulder.”

 “I cannot create sentient life,” Dave Grinch says, sounding apologetic.

 Brine-Blood hesitates. “Never mind then. Give me a magic sword.”

 “A magic sword,” Dave Grinch repeats.

 “One that pierces well, damages well–”

 “Every time he kills somebody it makes a farting noise,” Tarquin interrupts.

 “Every time I kill somebody, it instils fear into their hearts,” Brine-Blood speaks louder over Tarquin, “of the people nearby.”

 “Now that I can do.” Dave Grinch holds out a hand through the bars. In his grasp forms a sword that he hands to Brine-Blood.

 “Yar.” Brine-Blood takes it. “This will help me in taking back me old ship.” As he swipes it back and forth, the glow fades to reveal that it is bright pink and emitting sparkles in its wake. “Pink! It be a manly colour, for it be like blood. And the sparkles will – will help instil fear in people, for it will make me look spectacular. And fabulous!”

 Medric hands Brine-Blood his amulet of hair billowing. “To complete the fabulous effect.”

 “May I get a trunk of weightless gold?” Lorenza asks. “As big as you can make it.”

 “Yes you can.” Dave Grinch waves his hand, and a trunk of weightless gold appears beside Lorenza.

 “That won’t be legal tender,” Tarquin slurs, as if he’s still getting used to his new jaw.

 “Aye it will, it’s just – I can hardly carry that big a chest otherwise, can I?”

 “Yeah, but if they can’t weight it, then they’re not going to think it’s real, are they?”

 Lorenza looks sourly at the chest. “Well that’s useless, then. I’ll just have to put it in my house as decoration.”

  “Can I get an extension to these legs.” Tarquin raises one, shaking out the rolls of skin that are pooling around his ankles. “So they go to the bottom of my fucking feet?”

 Dave Grinch nods, and Tarquin is standing on his tiptoes, the wooden bones having stretched out enough that he has filled every inch of skin without room for an ankle.

 “You get used to it,” Kitty says, watching him totter back and forth.

 “And what would you like?” Dave Grinch asks, turning to Kitty.

 Kitty tilts her head, tapping a claw against her lip. “Can I keep it as a favour, to call in at a later date?”

 “Oh, you cheeky fuck,” Tarquin says.

 “You can indeed.” Dave Grinch inclines his head.

 “Sweet.” Kitty smiles at him.

 Tarquin turns and totters out of the building.

 Brine-Blood hefts Santa’s head to take with them. “In case we can get a bonus with it,” he says.

 Tarquin is eyeing the portal. “Just… give me a moment,” he says. “I’ll be right behind you.”

 “There is only one snowglobe for return,” Medric says. “And no way back through that portal.”

 “God damn it!” Tarquin yells. “Pish.”

 Kitty snickers. “Aw, just think! You could have asked for that instead of longer legs.”

 Tarquin turns to her. “Fuck you, Kitty.”

 Kitty sweeps a dismissive gaze up and down him. “Not even if you were paying.”

 Medric pulls out the globe, shakes it, and smashes it on the ground before the party.

 The light flares up from it and blots out their view of the grotto. When it clears, they are standing in Quentin Happyjoy’s office at the top of his company’s tower.

 “Here be your request!” Brine-Blood slams Santa’s head onto the table in front of him. “And now, gift us your booty.”

 Quentin starts, throwing himself back from the table. “So I – so I see!” He pulls bags of coins from his desk and hands one to each member of the party. “Here is the rest of your pay.” He eyes the head. “I never – I never actually asked you to kill Santa.”

 “Well – it was personal,” Brine-Blood growls. “I be the only Claus now. Klaus, even. I’m getting confused.”

 “You’re Klaus, I have claws,” says Kitty, flicking a set out and back in as she stretches her fingers.

 “Well, to be fair, we knocked him unconscious and then some… big eldritch abomination horror burst out of him and killed him, and we just thought – well, while we’re here, we might as well take the head,” Medric explains.

 “You know, for proof. No more competition.” Kitty smiles, still playing with her claws. “I think he’ll make a lovely wall ornament.”

 “Mount it,” Tarquin says.

 “I can help with the preservation of it.” Medric grins, as if he’s already looking forward to the task.

 “Well… as you all went above and beyond what was asked of you,” Quentin hurries back around the side of his desk, hurriedly pulling out more bags, “you may have an extra two hundred and fifty. Each.” He hands them over. “Now get out of my office. And never return, you abominable people!”

 “Are you sure you don’t want me help with preparing the head?” Medric asks, as Brine-Blood roars in the background about being thrown out.

 “I can do it myself!” Quentin retorts. “Begone from here!”

 Lorenza taps Kitty’s arm and nods towards the safe in the corner of the room. Kitty grins and points to herself and then the safe, Lorenza and then Quentin.

 Tarquin starts yelling, mostly incoherent noise with the occasional “Peasant!” thrown in.

 Lorenza steps away from Kitty and strikes up a song at counterpoint to Tarquin’s yelling.

 Quentin backs away from both of them in something approaching horror and rage, still attempting to take back control of his office.

 Kitty kneels down before the safe and rolls out her thieves’ tools. With all the noise going on, it takes her longer than she would like to crack open the safe, but eventually she manages and pulls the door open to reveal three gold bars and a greetings card that Kitty doesn’t bother to read.

 Kitty slides the gold bars into her bag and pushes the safe shut. As she gets to her feet, Brine-Blood takes his swords and attacks Quentin, killing him in several slashes and then proceeds to continue cutting into the body as if to make sure he is absolutely dead, beginning to dismember him with the ferocity of his attacks.

 “Law of the sea!” Brine-Blood announces. “Everything in this office is ours.”

 “Just a bunch of papers,” Kitty says.

 Tarquin takes the chair from in front of Quentin’s desk and tugs it with him out of the door.

 On his way out the door, Medric pulls out one of the medallion’s he’d bought. “Archimedes is waiting for you,” he whispers into it. “You can join the cult if you’d like. I’ll hear back from you in one week.” He sends it to the bard from the tavern. “Guten Tag.”

 Kitty laughs and closes the door behind them on their carnage.

[tora0828]

halpy happyjoy joy

[doglike-sparky]

happyjoy

[tophita]

Cancer: I'm thinking about cutting bangs, should I?

Scorpihoe: Like my great grandfather used to say, Always go out with a bang.

[majorxmaggiexboy]

the grinning man and/ or hadestown??

thanks, Ali! :D

- Hadestown -

Favourite Character: the tall worker/patron. ms. afra hines’ Tavern Patron. Ms. Jewelle Blackman’s Fate. Orpheus.

Least Favourite Character: not at all in terms of “I Don’t Like This Character” or “I dislike this character” but just in the sense of, “I Enjoy Every Other Character Just A Little Bit More”, it’s Hades  for me 😱

Favourite OBC Cast Member: i don’t actually know much about any of them, but i think Ms. Hines has great vibes and am also fond of Mr. Hughes and, of course Mr. de Shields.

Favourite Current Cast Member (If Applicable): i have Zero idea what’s even happening with the show rn so instead i’ll say that i really like what i’ve seen of Ms. Nabiyah Be’s work and enjoyed her as Eurydice

Favourite Song: that part in Lover’s Desire where Orpheus is going off on the La La La’s and it sounds like he should be flitting about like some kind of happy little Sprite. also If It’s True. also the part in Wait For Me when Orpheus sings “and I am not alone” and u can hear Hermes sing it with him. also the part in Wait For Me where there’s that kind of background/overlay of “I’M COMIIIIIIN” also If It’s True, also Wait For Me II, also Chant III

Least Favourite Song: i think it’s Hey Little Songbird? again not as in i dislike it at all, it’s just

Favourite Act (If Applicable): ooooooh...i...i think Act One? but...no it kinda depends on the day/mood, i think. Act One when i want some happyjoy and act 2 for angry depression with a lil hopeful streak thrown in.

Favourite Ship: i friend!ship Persephone with the Tall Worker. but also heck yeah Eurypheus

Least Favourite Ship: i don’t personally enjoy seeing Hades paired up with anyone in this musical who is not Persephone. Especially in certain contexts.

If There is Something I Would Change about The Musical: Papers.

Ratings: 10/10 for me. Maybe 9.5 if i’m nitpicking but, idk for me Hadestown, especially the Broadway one, is just really satisfying.

- The Grinning Man -

Favourite Character: i’m so weak for Bristol!Quake and honestly it’s so out of character for me and i have no excuse but. :/ Also, Gwynplaine is The Certified Primary Designated Favorite of the situation.

Least Favourite Character: i think i’m gonna have to go with Ursus? just bc the way things play out with him, while dangling in a similar manner to Jojo and Dirry-Moir,  irks me more in a character like Ursus than it does in characters like Dirry-Moir and Josiana

Favourite OBC Cast Member: so, Bristol? Probably Ms. Gloria Obianyo. I just love her Lady Trelaw and Quake. I also quite liked Mr. Angell as Mojo’s Head/Archbishop Kupsak :3 Ms. Brisson’s Dea is also my favorite Dea.

Favourite Current Cast Member (If Applicable): for London it’s gonna be Lady Trelaw/Quake again. Ms. Mackay’s Please Don’t Take My Little Boy reprise is intense and powerful in a completely different way.

Favourite Song: “The heart of our story is clear to me now/Oh, Dea, my love, it’s the fire in your heart/We found truth in the dark of the night/That shone bright on the darkest of nights/You always said pain would make us strong/And you were right, Dea, you were right./But noooow that I can seee my paaaain and Know the Hidden Face Of It I’m Grasping What Myy Mother And My Father tried to saaaaay to me/As they stood with stools beneath them and with nooses ‘round their necks the thing that they were fighting for was strength to look into the eyyyyyyyyyyyes of someone who is maiming you and SEEEEE THAT THEY’RE THE SAAAAAAME AS YOOOOOOOOOOOUEH/YOU DIDN’T CUT MY FAAAAAAAAACE/AND IN YOUR BURNING HEEEEEAAAART/URSUS DIDN’T CUT! MY! FAAAAAAACE/DEA YOU HAVE KNOWN THAT FROM THE STAAAAAART/AND WHEN I LOOK. IN THE EYYES. OF THE MAN. WHO. DID/AND WHEN I LOOK. AT THE MAN. WHO CUT. MY. FACE./I SEE MYSELF. AND WHEN I LOOOK IN THE EYYYYYYES OF THE WOMMMAN I LOVE. I see myself. there. tOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO YOUR KISS OF LOV” just. that whole bit.

also looooooove love love Laughter is the Best Medicine, By the Laws of Every Land, and every edition of Labyrinth. I have no standards when it comes to Labyrinth. I want them all. oh! and that part of born broken when they’re like “STRONG AS THE HEART/LOOK AT THE SMILE/OF YOUR MOTHERLESS *seagull meme* CHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLD” i want to say Freak Show too but idk if it’s the song i like or if i’m just in love with that Thing mr. maskell does with his lack of bones in the london edition.

Least Favourite Song: I Have Never Seen A Face Like This. it’s good and fun and catchy but i get this weird sense of embarrassment and just don’t like the scene.

Favourite Act (If Applicable): Act Two! Mostly everything between the Wedding and them walking into the audience. But i also enjoy the dungeon scene for reasons that admittedly do include exactly what one would expect but also bc Gwyn just sitting there asking no questions and kind of dissociating through the whole thing and then just straight up fainting is a big mood and i respect it. and am gutted at not getting to see London’s take on it.

Favourite Ship: Dea/Gwyn

Least Favourite Ship: Josiana/Dirry-Moir

If There is Something I Would Change about The Musical: first of all and most importantly, crucially, critically and off utmost essentiality, at the part where he sees his mother after the duel and he goes and falls to his knees in front of her and she’s caressing his face and singing “please don’t take my little boy...” and he’s looking up at her with this utter exhaustion in his eyes, it is at that point that Gwynplaine Trelaw would address his mother as ‘mama’ in the most tender, exhausted, half-pleading and broken tone since the invention of speech, and it would be emotional devastating, so jot that down. either Ursus would know from the beginning that Dea’s his daughter, or it’d be like the book where she isn’t his biological daughter at all. Dea would get her own sort of ‘I Want’ song and would also sing the line “Surely I once had a mother” at some point, the “blood-red hair” thing would either not exist or just wouldn’t be tetris’d in so awkwardly, Dea and Gwyn’s kissing would be different- during the first Beauty and the Beast, she’d still kiss him on the mouth, over the bandages of course, bc Audience Perception, but outside of the performance, and especially for the Big Damn Kiss at the end, it would be shown that kissing has to work differently for the two of them. Dirry-Moir and Josiana wouldn’t wind up together in the end. They’d both show at least the beginnings of actual change in their character. Gwyn would have at least a couple lines about how messed-up society is and would have that going as a little background/secondary conflict. Probably handle his arrest differently and cut the meeting with Josiana/move it to later in the show and switch up the context a little. Let Dea go slam off at some point. Lord and Lady Trelaw sing the “strength to look into the eyes...” up through “...and see that they’re the same as you” with Gwyn and then walk offstage together, holding hands. hmmm...probably change up Please Don’t Take My Mother and The Drowning Song a little bit. Throw in a very short, dark reprise of Beauty and the Beast before Gwyn leaves Dea in the cart. He’d take the Beauty puppet with him, just kind of absently, and that would explain why “it was among your possessions” even tho Bark hadn’t yet swung by Ursus’ cart. I’d probably have Gwyn’s speaking voice, and his singing voice when addressing any character except Dea, be a bit chopped up. Maybe have him sing differently depending on whom he’s talking to, just to illustrate say during Freak Show how the audience is hearing him, vs. how Josiana’s feeling about him during Brand New World. Dea always gets his ‘real’ voice except in moments like the first Beauty and the Beast, which is an act. Ursus' arc would be treated differently in one of two ways. idk how exactly but the whole thing where Gwyn’s able to forgive Barkilphedro would be tweaked too just so the “I look at him and see myself” thing would make a little more sense. My version of this show would be like 3 hours long tbh also Gwyn would react to the realization that Ursus was there (thank you, London) and would have the decency for his voice to break on “when I look at the man who cut my face” (also thank you, London) while we’re thanking London, the proverbial third run in my heart also very much includes Gwyn’s hand-flapping and little noises. and would include some Shaky Trembly Acting from Gwyn as well at different parts of the show, especially toward the end, bc That Is One Tired Boy. and and and during the dungeon scene Gwyn would spend a lot of it looking specifically at Quake’s baton.

oh, and the otter on Josiana’s breakfast tray? there’d be a second one but it would be a whole Otter and it would be with Osric at all times bc i’ve decided that the Stokes-Croft kitten is actually an otter.

Ratings: 8/10 docked points for the stronger profanity since i personally am not a fan, and also the story has its definite flaws and things i don’t really care for. less overall technically satisfying than Hadestown BUT also caters to my exact interests in multiple ways, has excellent music, i love the story, Dea and Gwyn are beautiful together, it has definitely captured my heart and imagination and i absolutely thrive on all its layers and nuances. in my emotions it’s a 10.

[chaoticstarlight-sheepstuff]

past usernames

past usernames that I’m aware of:

alonelyllama191

a-massive-mess

arandomuser56

arandomuser8225

befuddled-dusty-droplet

confusedgreyblob

delightedrebel

happyjoy-happyjoy

iamfiguringthingsout

ireplytothings

i-scream-to-the-void

literallynotllama

meme-blog-idk

mintwolf7

mintwolfseven

myopinionsandtwocents

nopointtoabrokenpencil

nsfw-alison

nsfw-mlp-redbag

number9580 ~ can’t delete

orangerabbitcollector

otter-and-shark

pretty-red-dress

provemewrong-ineedasource

randomreceipts

rtgodrzfuih

saltygreydragon

senior-puget-oligarch

sources-and-shitposting

starwarsfan126 ~ can’t delete

the-real-discourse

tobyfoxisgod

two-six-seven-three

tyekue-forty-two-thirty-five

utyhugf

[lutgradio]

FREE FLOW COVERING BY KATHY BROCKS

[lifestylehappyplace]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Anthea Chiappa (@lifestylehappyplace)

🌔⏰The most beautiful moments always seemed to accelerate and slip beyond one's grasp just when you want to hold onto them for as long as possible. Time flies, whether you're wasting it or not. . 💥Make everyday count by choosing ONE thing that will move you toward your goals. . I love posting and sharing my Entrepreneurial journey on Instagram🙏. I love the support and the gratitude that's shared on here.❤💚🧡 . Thankyou for following and I appreciate all the kind words and comments of encouragement. Life truely has these amazing little nuggets and it's up to you to find them. It's just like an Easter egg hunt.😊 MAKE LIFE FUN, and the warm fuzzies will come to you in amazing forms.🥂🎸😍🏖 Www.lifestylehappyplace.com . . #happyjoy #makeitfun #makelifefun #lifestylehappyplace #lifestylebusiness #lifeisshortliveit https://www.instagram.com/p/BxqQOhghGzB/?igshid=zd3n5gvuwthx

[attndeficitreviews-amz]

Have You Heard? A LED Photo Studio Is Your Best Bet To Grow Your Product Photography

Are you thinking about taking your product and still life photography to the next level? Simply put, The

Happyjoy LED Photo Studio

offers a vibrant and clear way of advertising your business visuals. A photo studio is basically a cube made constructed from thin white plastic sides, creating a very soft, diffused lighting environment inside. One side is left open so you can point your camera in and photograph whatever’s inside. They come in a variety of sizes, with this one being (9.5"x9.5"x8.7").

Pros of using a LED Photo Studio: > Great For Those Who Do Not Have The Time Nor Place To Take Photos With Natural Light. > With The Right Lighting And Setup, It Can Look Very Professionally Done. > Allows For Great Consistency – As Long As You Don’t Totally Change The Lighting

Here are some more details from the product page: > Portable Photo Lightbox: Set up in second, you can unfold this LED lightbox studio and place it on anywhere for photography, taking pictures for cellphone and accessories, fashion jewelry, and small gadgets etc. > Durable & Waterproof: Made from hard polypropylene material, which makes it durable and yet lightweight, focusing your photography and easy to earn professional pictures. > High Power Lighting: This Mini Studio comes with LED strips. This LED strips is powered via a USB cable, simply plug and play with the integrated USB cable to any USB port powered via a USB cable. > Collapsible Design: No bigger than a piece of paper when it's folded, upgraded button design, it's more stable than the old magnetic design, make your photo studio avoid collapsing, space saving and resist compression. > Package Includes: LED Light Box(9.5"x9.5"x8.7"), a Micro USB cable, two backgrounds backdrops, and a storage bag.

Product Link: https://amzn.to/2M8etY7

ASIN: B06Y112K1R

[gossipdepartement]

Happyjoy Professional Photo Photography Studio 2m/7ft Light Stand Tripod For Lighting Kit Reviews

[wpramazon asin=”B06ZZGB68Z” keyword=”photo Studio Flashes”] [wpramazon asin=”B00IM3W8L6″ keyword=”photo Studio Flashes”] [wprebay kw=”photo+studio+flashes” num=”12″ ebcat=”-1″] [wprebay kw=”photo+studio+flashes” num=”13″ ebcat=”-1″]

More Photo Studio Flashes Products

[stahrienite]

The love of my life. I swear to god. @nicoleguerriero and @anastasiabeverlyhills just killed this for me. I am so in love. Eeeeep. #Highlight #Glowlife #Yay #makeupporn #HappyJoy

[shoecampdnk-blog]

Good morning guys!! Coffee time with @natalia.medvetchi 🐼☕️☕️#cofe #coffee #day #prague #praha #praga #morning #happy #happyjoy #joy #cannabis #chocolate #weed #start #trip #iphone #iphonephotography (at Prague, Czech Republic)

[doglike-sparky]

ive also just been making a lot of positive changes in general over the past year #happyjoy

[pteeshka]

#мысчастливы #wearehappy #happyjoy #rainbow #rainbowsisters #sis #радуга #вселюдисестры (at Saint Petersburg, Russia)

[confusedgreyblob]

list of old usernames (missing one that I’m aware of)

alonelyllama191

a-massive-mess

arandomuser56

arandomuser8225

arandomuser8225

delightedrebel

happyjoy-happyjoy

iamfiguringthingsout

ireplytothings

i-scream-to-the-void

literallynotllama

meme-blog-idk

mintwolf7

mintwolfseven

myopinionsandtwocents

nopointtoabrokenpencil

nsfw-alison

nsfw-mlp-redbag

orangerabbitcollector

otter-and-shark

pretty-red-dress

provemewrong-ineedasource

randomreceipts

rtgodrzfuih

saltygreydragon

senior-puget-oligarch

sources-and-shitposting

starwarsfan126

the-real-discourse

tobyfoxisgod

two-six-seven-three

tyekue-forty-two-thirty-five

utyhugf

[talkingtothemoon-ii]

pretty in pink 🎀 | . . . . . . #021917 @adidasoriginals @adidaswomen @adidas #sneakers #shoes #adidas #adidaseqt #adidaseqtsupport #adidaseqtsupportadv #adidasoriginals #feetfriends #igsneakers #igsneakercommunity #kickstagram #sneakerporn #lacedsociety #adidasseries #pink #happyjoi