Rough Draft of ‘The Joyous Night’ from Tales of Tulara, Vol. 1

A Tale by Mark Craig, set in year 65 of the Questing Age.

Santa Claus is an interesting fellow. They say he dwelt in the land of Hewendall long before it was known as Hewen’s Dale at all, living in a truly joyful place known as the Laughing Valley. Tales from Nune bring tidings of his growing up amongst the elves, playing amongst the fairies, his time spent learning the languages and customs of others, and learning a craft of his own - Indeed, they say that Master Claus is an exceedingly elegant woodworker, both in terms of artificing and in terms of construction. He fancied himself a whittler, and indeed, his first toys were all hand carved from wood. Indeed, he was popular amongst the children, always giving them toys when they visited. When he got old, and the children saw him less, he sought to surprise them all during his seldom trips to town with huge sacks of presents.

It is not known what mage’s school he attended, but one thing is for certain: He is one of the most powerful mages in this world, and easily could lay claim to the throne of Hewendall if he so chose. Instead, he runs his workshop in Laughing Valley, accompanied by his family of elves who aid in his gifts for the children. Indeed, they say the man is immortal, Nune and Hewendall both have always been blessed with gifts from the jolly man in red, and even as far west as the Fabled Sea! Such a high demand for his gifts yielded a necessity for his family of elves to aid him. For, their family had no fame, although they did have respect as humble whittlers. Indeed, he brought their house to glory, and House Claus became among the most beloved elven clans in the region. When Santa Claus discovered the Laughing Valley, he saw the makings of a paradise for his family. He envisioned decorated trees, carefully trimmed and nurtured; log cabins with fairy lights, cheerful colours abound, and elven hymns to warm the cold night. When he told his family about his finding, the decision was tough, but the whole clan upended themselves out of Nune and into the land of Hewendall, known then as the land of Rohit, where they built the most lovely little village in all the land. They spent a lot of time searching for the perfect spot in the area, but the bulk of the village came to center around a particularly gargantuan pine tree, the likes of which was decorated in all manner of fairy lights and personal knick knacks from the elves present.

Eventually, they constructed a grand castle out of limestone, marble, and polished quartz, with a beautiful white central spire, shingled with royal purple scales trimmed with gold. At the top of the spire is where Santa Claus spent much time, eyes closed as he sit rapt in meditation, or fiddled with alchemy, or experimented with spells and potioncraft. Indeed, the jolly man was wiser in magic than most, and they say he had found a way to build a magical machine that diffused positivity into the very air of Laughing Valley, causing them all to laugh — the very reason it is named so. Soon, the workshop was in business full time, and on dogsled the old man ventured to deliver his presents. However, in his old age, the journey became very taxing as the volume of presents caused him to essentially always be on the move. It was days like this he was grateful to have met his wife, Hilda Claus, who was truly the secret Santa behind the real Santa. 

As they say, behind every great man is a woman, and even for powerful wizards like Santa Claus, this is no exception. They say a lovely and mature blonde woman, some 30 years of age, became lost in a snowstorm, and separated from her tribe. In the blizzarding snow, she spotted glimmering lights, and headed towards them for safety. As it turned out, she saw the fairy lights that dotted Laughing Valley, and she began to marvel at the whitish castle on the hill in front of her when she arrived. As if drawn by instinct, she ascended the flagstone steps that winded first upward, and then easterly, bending around the wall into an entrance with a drawbridge going over a vast icy waterfall. Short elves dressed in yellows, greens, and reds gave her happy welcomes. She couldn’t help but smile.

“This place is magical — Is this Heaven?”

“Ho ho ho-no, my dear!” A sweet voice bellowed from down the gold-bricked court.

“Welcome to the humble home of my family and I — Laughing Valley! Make yourself at home, stay as long as you like — We rarely have visitors with beauty such as yours!” The hefty, red-nosed man rhythmically bounced with every step as he came to greet the woman, bowing low as he shook her hand and gave it a quick kiss. Such a well mannered man took Hilda by surprise, but her blush quickly turned to a smirk. 

“And who might you be, the Red Rogue of the North?”

He fought back with a smirk of his own. “Some would say. But, I’m a family man, please, call me Claus. Care for some hot chocolate? I have the finest cocoa imported from central Nune, and dates from Myretide, if you would like. Chocolate covered.” He said with a wink.

And so, the two indulged in warm conversation, paired with hot drinks and pleasant sweets. She spoke of her time as a tracker for her tribe, being one who knew the lands like the palm of her hand. Indeed, she claimed to know all the fastest routes in and out of Rohit. However, she found herself undervalued, and felt the hunters always got the glory despite her being the one who found their hunts and planned their routes with care. This sparked an idea in Santa Claus.

“How would you like to work for me? At least for this winter. I don’t want to keep you from your own family, I have all I need here. But, a lot of children are expecting me across the land. My family and I whittle and craft all day, and all night on dogsled I ride to deliver gifts to children who miss me and write to me from afar. I’ve made a happy life for myself, but the demands are getting high, and I’m getting old. Perhaps if you’d take a look at my map, you, er, could help me plan my routes a little better.” The old man was sheepish, but laid down his map on the table, the woman adjusting her glasses to view it.

“Oh heavens! You really travel like this? It feels like I’m staring at a plate of spaghetti! This just won’t do! Fetch me some scrolls and a quill, will you?” And so he did just that. He sat and watched her sketch out all new routes, cleaner, more efficient and less tangled for the aging man and his two dogs. Indeed, she shaved off a third of his total travel time per year after spending a month drafting and revising a special map for him. When it was perfected, so as never to lose it, Santa Claus sought to render it immortal with magic. He brought HIlda up the white spire, to the very top with its blue crystal windows. Hilda, in all her time in Laughing Valley, never had the privilege of entering Santa’s inner sanctum, and she was taken aback by the meticulous care and love put into every nook and cranny. Red tapestries colored the blue walls with joy, many nick nacks were on full display on the walls, crafts lay on a painted wooden table, cabinets filled with potions and vials of shimmering liquids, blades of alchemical metal displayed on the walls, and drawers upon drawers of alchemical ingredients, with a lovely red carpet on the mahogany floor that rounded the central altar. He had a royal red-canopied bed on the northern side of the room with a painting of his home in Nune hanging above it.

“This place — it’s magic!”

“Heheh, you’re quite right, my dear!” 

The happy fellow placed the new map on the altar, and gave Hilda clear instructions for the ritual at hand, filling her hands with various herbs and ingredients she provided at the right times as he worked his magic. Soon enough, a blue flame enveloped the map, and the lines on it began to flash and glow, much to the amazement of Hilda. She stepped closer, and inspected the pulsing map, as if they were veins on a creature the two of them had brought to life together; However, with a wave of his hand, Santa redirected her sight out the crystalline window, speaking in fairy tongues as soon the very trails on the map began to shimmer and glow with a beautiful white aurora. Hilda grabbed the magic man’s hand in instinctual excitement, and went quiet for a long time, her eyes sparkling as she watched the glow race throughout the land.

“Wow…”

“The people have you to thank, Hilda. You did what I couldn’t, you made me faster, you gave the children hope that ol’ Santa Claus can still pay those kids a visit. And I’m sure my huskies Vanagander and Fenrir will be most pleased as well! Those magic pups have might, but even they tire out too you know! Now I can take the map with me, and always see where I’m going.”

As the trails began to fade, and the true aurora began to show, Hilda leaned into Santa’s chest. “Will you ever tire out, Santa?”

His usual jolly grin flashed solemnly for only a moment before returning to his face. “I fear the day is coming sooner than I would like. I’m 55, no young 39 like you are. But, I’m just a man. My family will live on without me long after I’ve grown old. I’m a flash in the pan to them, even though I’ve built a legacy for them all in such a short time. When I’m gone, my family will carry on our traditions, and much better than one old human and his two humble dogs, heheh…”

Hilda’s expression soured, and tears began to well in her eyes. “No, that can’t be true, that just won’t do… Surely there’s something we can do so your family won’t have to lose you!”

Her fingers tightened around his. “So I don’t lose you…”

The old man laughed, and the two shared a kiss as the snow began to fall in big, delicate flakes. “We’re only human, dear. Life is short for us, so we ought to make it count.”

Hilda reached a point of near frustration, her heart aching thinking of the beautiful soul before her one day leaving this world. “I’ll find something! I’ll go through your books, I’ll ask around the tribes, I’ll find someone or some way to keep you around forever, I promise!”

The old man wrapped his arms around her, chuckling to himself. “Well, if I’m to live that long, you ought to make my animals live that long too!” 

And so the two spent the night together, and Hilda became a fervent student of the magic arts, spending all her nights in study as her beloved dashed around on dogsled. The Claus family gave her as much help as they could provide, teaching her all sorts of Nunish and Elven incantations, and in time, she became quite a powerful mage herself. She specialized in complex ritual, while Santa preferred the arts of alchemy, almost akin to his whittling for himself. She met with her old tribe, and the shamans therefrom, but they knew not the secret of immortality. Not the humans, not even the elves who possessed it in their blood. However, in recent years a man with a penchant for magic became their southern neighbour, a feared yet respected man known to her as Lord Highwind. Legend had it that he had a storehouse of magic artifacts, and studied them carefully, being quite wise although not exactly a mage himself. One night, as Santa was on his travels, Mrs. Claus sought to travel out to visit Lord Highwind and question him on how life might be extended, but she found herself without transportation. 

Upon looking around the castle, she found a wandering reindeer in the court eating holly. She cautiously took a mint sweet she made, swirled white and red, and enticed the reindeer to her side with such sweets. Initially, he tried to take the treat and make a run for it out of the courtyard, but it ended up slipping on ice, to which Mrs. Claus helped it onto it’s feet and began to pet it.

“That was quite a fall, wasn’t it big guy? I ought to call you Slepnir - Slippy!”  She hugged the reindeer close, and began to whisper to it in a magic tongue. The animal cocked its head and nodded, as if it understood the mission it had been given. Hilda mounted the beautiful creature, and she began to ride, further and further south until she found the frosty hills in which lay Highwind Hold. The men there wore dark iron platemail, and were tough and grizzled. The men questioned her upon getting to the gate, their halberds sharp and at the ready, putting the muscular Slepnir on edge.

“Hail! What business does an outsider have with the Hold?”

“Hail! I come from Laughing Valley, a humble village a long journey north of here, and I’ve ridden all throughout the night seeking aid from Lord Highwind. If it’s quite alright, even if I don’t see him tonight, I’d really like a warm place to stay for the night.” Hilda looked at the guards shyly, unable to tell their emotion through the holes in their iron masks. The two guards exchanged disguised glances, and broke into a chuckle.

“And what business do you have with “Lord Highwind”?” The two could not help but snicker more.

“The man I love is in danger, I fear Father Time is coming for him sooner than later, and I thought Lord Highwind might be able to help me save him. I’m a mage myself, you see, and Santa could really use his help…”

The two men’s chuckles went quiet. “The man in red?”

Hilda cheerfully nodded. “That’s the one! I’m his — well, I admire him, very much. But, I worry. He’s only human, you know.”

“Aren’t we all.” The posture of the two men relaxed.

“Do us all a favour, call him Lord Hewen. We’ll get you an audience with him if we can. You’ll want to head to Ginger’s inn on the west side of the main road, at the base of the hill the Hold rests on. What’s your name?”

“Hilda!” She rang cheerfully.

“Well, Hilda, we’ll come for you when we get a verdict on that hearing with Lord Hewen. But really, don’t call him Lord Highwind. He hates that. Heheh.” 

And so, Hilda followed the guard’s words and made her way to Ginger’s Inn, meeting Ginger herself, a burly brunette woman (ironically) in pink striped clothes with a white apron with a big, proud nametag, serving drinks at the counter and baked goods. 

“What can I get for ya hun? Rum?” Ginger asked half-heartedly.

Hilda chuckled. “Far from it. What’s that lovely smell?”

“Oh, that? I just baked some of my house cookies - I grow a lotta ginger, so I make these-uh, “ginger-bread” cookies. I make ‘em shaped like soldiers and let the kids ice them up sometimes. Gives ‘em something to do other than wreck my shutters. 1 gold for 3. Want one?”

The blonde-haired HIlda nodded with a delighted smile, handing her over the gold. “May I see the icing?” She said, smile beaming still. This seemed to amuse the hostess quite a bit.

She gave a tray of piping tubes, and let her take her pick. With reds, blacks, and whites, she made a mimic of the man on her mind, complete with his bushy beard and a little smile. Ginger seemed to recognize the sight in an instant.

“Heh. Looks like Santa.”

“It is Santa! He’s my, uh, well, mine. He’s why I’m here, to help him actually.” She took a bite of the cookie, and reeled back in wonder and amazement. 

“You make these yourself, you say?! By the gods, this is divine!” Hilda couldn’t help but devour the cookie in amazement, much to the amusement of Ginger.

“If I could perchance buy the recipe from you, I just know everybody back in Laughing Valley would adore these cookies, even Santa himself! I don’t mean to be so blunt, but my own sweets don’t compare to this “ginger-bread” of yours! I’m simply amazed!”

Hearing such high praise, and the clattering of coin on countertop, Ginger grew a wide smirk. “Alright, put on an apron and get back here, I’ll show you how it’s done. But you better make sure the name I gave them sticks! It’s how I got my nickname. Santa better know those’re Ginger’s Bread Cookies!”

And so, Ginger and Hilda made batch after batch of Gingerbread cookies, so much so that she forgot to rest before seeing Lord Hewen. The smell of freshly baked goods blasted the two gentlemen in the face when they walked into the inn, and they heard playful laughter from the kitchen, seeing the dough-spattered duo emerging joyfully, only to freeze in surprise.

“Don’t worry Ginger. Taxes aren’t going up. Lady Hilda’s got an audience with Lord Hewen now. Did you sleep well?” Without addressing the pair, Hilda and Ginger giggled in harmony before giving the guards some freshly baked cookies.

It was then that Hilda had the idea to bring a sizable amount of what was baked to Lord Hewen directly, a sort of goodwill bribery. And she did just this, requesting each guard to carry a tray with Ginger as well. The smell wafted into the courtroom, and Lord Hewen in his usually morose state roused himself into something more presentable for such an audience. 

“What is this? A gift, for me?” The Lord spoke in confusion.

“It is! I’ve come from afar, and although I was tired, I felt you would appreciate something warm, as the matters I have come to discuss are kept warm in my heart. These cookies are for you, courtesy of Ginger and I!”  Hilda’s usual beaming smile came through, and the gesture alone seemed to soften the heart of the Lord, although he dare not remove his helmet so so much as try them, preferring to have them set on the long table before them. 

“Tell me, child of Rohit, what matters have you come to discuss with me? My men gave word that you are an associate of Clan Claus, here on behalf of Santa. Is it true? Is the Man in Red in danger?” Lord Hewen gripped his throne in an almost icy concern.

“Well, I’m not exactly from Clan Claus, although I hope to be, but I believe Santa needs your help. You’re known for your collection of magic relics, are you not, oh esteemed Lord?” 

“I have only a few relics I hold close to my chest, child of Rohit. But, I’m not unwise to the arcane arts. What is it that you seek?” The Lord seemed to be almost suspicious of her.

“Well… Santa is getting old. Call me foolish, but I couldn’t dream of a world without him. I want to find a way to prolong his life, forever, perhaps. Do you think it’s possible?” Hilda became shy and quiet after this, feeling as though the Lord was staring right into her soul, despite not being able to see his eyes beneath his mask at all.

“For such grand gestures, you would need to call upon a god… How well versed are you in rituals of the arcane?” The tone of Lord Hewen was very serious, there was no doubt that he was set to help, even if he himself did not know the answer she sought directly. 

The two conversed for some time, and it became clear that truly, Hilda knew more of ritual and rite than Lord Hewen himself, who agreed to give her a very important scroll regarding communing with a deity of one’s choosing on the condition that his young son be given a most beautiful and mysterious gift for his child. Hilda knew Santa could make it happen, and after a rest she headed back to Laughing Valley.

In the meantime, Santa was worried sick about her, as nobody was certain where she had left off to. He checked every inch of the castle, and was prepared to go out on dogsled to check the nearby towns when she returned. Without a word, he hugged her tight, and the two exchanged tales of journeys throughout the night, of foreign guests and misadventures. The two laughed over hot chocolate, and Santa remarked at her ingenuity, recruiting a reindeer to take her where she needed to go. Indeed, it got Santa thinking that he could deliver presents even faster with a team of racing reindeer like Slepnir. 

So, one frosty morning in Laughing Valley, the pair enticed another reindeer whom was faster than all the rest, and the hungriest too — Dasher. At first, Santa thought two reindeer to replace two huskies was a fair trade, and after a final sleigh ride, he unhitched Fenrir and Vanagandir for the final time. The huskies loved to roam with Santa, but without his constant presence, he knew they would miss him. So, he made a bulbous and jolly snowman, and with a magic spell he brought the construct to life, placing a magic scarf around its neck. This snowman loved to play with the dogs, who would fetch his sticks and return them to him, or pull him along on their old dogsled. He was Fenrir and Vanagandir’s best friend from that point on, and a happy addition to the land of Laughing Valley. 

Slepnir and Dasher were gifted something akin to the magic collars of Fenrir and Vanagandir, indeed, their reigns gave them the power of magic flight, something the pair had to get used to. The glow of the magic map was not always easy to follow, and they had to be vigilant. Too, a more expansive and luxurious sleigh was designed by the elves, and Santa covered much more of Nune and Hewendall in his trips because of this. And, just as promised, Lord Hewen’s child Piteraq received a cube of wood with many holes, almost like a sponge, the likes of which had been embedded with glowing and shimmering gems of various colours which changed when tapped, emotting a little lightning arc within each individual crystal. If all the colors were unified, it would hum a pleasant tune. Such a fascinating piece of woodworking would forever leave it’s mark on the young boy, who took a love for crafting things himself. And so, Hilda received the scroll she primed for her ritual, and in excitement, decided to contact the Spirit of Joy. 

One joyous night, as Santa laid sleepy in his canopied bed, Hilda performed the rite, using Santa’s storehouse of arcane materials to aid in the ritual. As smoke swirled and began to sway and move into facial features and shapes, a lizard-like visage with bulbous eyes began to appear.

“Ehhwot, what’s going on, what’s this? Hello?? What’s happening?” The large reptillian face spoke in a somewhat down-to-earth voice.

“Oh great Spirit of Joy, I have been up all night preparing this ritual to gain your acquaintance, for I have a favour to ask of you, if you might make a trade with me.”

“Okay I am NOT the “Spirit of Joy!” Lady, you got the wrong number — Wait. Oh no. OH god. Oh god no. NO no no. I know what’s going on here. THIS is the moment. THIS is the moment it happens. Shit! I guess I AM the Spirit of Joy, okay fine. What do you want?” The unusual replies of the lizard seemed to confuse Hilda, but she continued.

“Oh marvellously wise Spirit, if it ever so pleases you, I would pledge myself to you for eternity if you would grant me but one wish; that my love, dear Santa Claus, might live forever.” Santa bolted up from bed.

“Hilda!”

“Shh. What do you say, oh great Spirit?”

“”Oh GrEaT sPiRiT” STOP IT GODDDDDDD look listen this guy right here is kind of important okay? You feel me? I’ll put this one on the house. C’mere Big Red. Come get a hug from papa. Get right in the big smoky thing. Yup. Do it.”

A little confused, Santa entered the smoke, and as told my the spirit, he inhaled the smoke deeply, and laid back down in bed. The smoke fluttered to the roof of the canopy, and his body began to feel light as air.

“Alright listen. I don’t want your soul or something creepy like that lady. Actually, you go breathe some of this in too. And get a bunch of uh, like, I don’t know rocks or something? And draw this symbol on them all. YOu should probably do a lot, like uh, 20… 24 of them. 

“Why 24?” Hilda queried.

“And what of my dogs?” Santa added.

“GODDDDD DO YOU PEOPLE EVER STOP? SHEESH THEY ARE FOR YOUR ANIMALS MY DUDE. I AM THE LITERAL SPIRIT OF JOY AND YOU’RE OUT HERE ASKING ME WHY I ASKED YOU TO DO SOMETHING LIKE I OWE YOU SOME KIND OF EXPLANATION? Like don’t you owe me some kind of 24 rocks with this symbol on them or something lady?? Chop chop please and thank you hey thanks yah yep I’ll be waiting.”

Soon enough, the ritual was complete, and the rocks began to glow with the Sign of Joy. Fenrir, the snowman, and Vanagandir all received a stone, which seemed to put them to sleep. The same can be said of Slepnir and Dasher. Soon, Hilda breathed in the smoke, and laid next to her love. As the visage of the Spirit of Joy began to fade, he gave rhetorical “Any last words?”

— The likes of which a tired Hilda threw an arm around the sleeping Santa. “Can I marry this guy?”

“Oh, snap, uh, yeah, actually, I’mma need you to wake him up and ask him that, it’s a pretty important thing here in uh, the afterlife, that you do that, please, thank you.”

And so, Hilda nervously awoke her love from his slumber, and with a youthful smile, he gave his reply, and the Spirit of Joy himself married them then and there in Laughing Valley. The elves celebrated all night long as the newly crowned Mrs. Claus, and, upon hearing the news that she and Santa would live forever, as would their blessed helpers the snowman, Fenrir, Vanagandir, Slepnir, and Dasher, and perhaps more to come, the elven clan decided to make Santa and Hilda the King and Queen of Laughing Valley and the Claus Clan.

The years went by, and the legend of the ageless wizard Santa Claus spread throughout the lands. He acquired many many reindeer over time, the likes of which he divided into a few teams. For short trips, Slepnir alone was enough. For a usual journey, he found himself pulled by the reindeer Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Donner, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, and Blitzen. For journeys requiring more speed, he had an alternate team made up of the reindeer Flossie and Glossie, Racer and Pacer, Reckless and Speckless, Fearless and Peerless, and the frontrunners, Ready and Steady. Long after the time of their friend Lord Hewen’s coming and going, through the reign of Lord Piteraq, and to this very day, Santa rode, his eternal love waiting for him at home, his magic reindeer flying through the sky becoming a yearly treat for the people of Hewendall and Nune. Indeed, the Joyous Night became a most beloved tradition, formerly many nights,  but with such magic speed, Santa consolidated his gift-giving to a single night a year, in which he cleanly delivered to every man, woman and child he could. People still wrote to him, and though he had not the time to reply to each and every one, he read them all, and when he made his list of gifts and toys, he made sure each got what they wanted. Very rarely, people would write not to Santa but to Mrs. Claus, not quite complaints, but notes, kids who received someone else’s toy, or were bereft of what they really wanted. So, on those rare nights, Mrs. Claus set out into the sky herself with her beloved Slepnir, and delivered the proper gifts to those who wrote to her. And so, decades and centuries passed as the duo spread joy and merriment throughout the land. Not even the young Jack Frost could stop the pair when he impeded their work with the harshest of snowstorms.

 However, after many centuries, the jolly one himself caught wind of another land, one further south than he had ever travelled, a land where it never snows, where palm trees grow, and sand envelops all the land from coast to coast: The Endless Desert, home to the nation of Oasis, a land which claimed peace but truly had none. The people struggled to survive, although they found joy in each other’s company. They protected themselves from outsiders, bandits, thieves, and the harsh desert itself. The thought that he could bring people even in exceedingly far off lands such as these a hint of lasting happiness compelled him to devise a plan with Mrs. Claus to ride further south than he had ever rode before — The Oasians would soon know the Joyous Night. He studied their folk, and thought to make peace with their leaders. He heard of noble figures like Will Goodman, and myself Athalos, and of Lord Alakshai as well. Too, he heard word of figures bitter and bleak, like the one in Devil’s Junction, the Man in Black, gritting his teeth.

His two dogs on his lap, and his snowman friend smoked a pipe with him as they discussed what toys to give the foreigners alongside a cadre of elves — All the while Mrs. Claus came up with a clever route matching the wind patterns, her face looming over the yellow papyrus she drew on, nearly knocking her pitcher of hot chocolate over in fervor. When the route was planned, the elves put together a hefty sack and loaded it onto the sleigh, and the plan was set to begin. Santa would start in Oasis, and then cover the isles of the Fabled Sea, and the vast lands of Nune, before returning home to deliver presents in his home of Hewendall, once Rohit.

He hitched his sleigh with not one team but two — The leftmost row containing Dasher and Dancer, Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid, Donner and Blitzen. At the front of the row, the eldest of them all, the hefty Slepnir, alongside Jinglehorse, always rounding up the pack. The right row had reindeer Flossie and Glossie, Racer and Pacer, Reckless and Speckless, Fearless and Peerless, with Ready and Steady at the front to keep them steady as his name. And, his guiding light, his Red Wayfarer, the youngest reindeer of all, led his sleigh. With a speed greater than Mrs. Claus nor any elf in Laughing Valley had seen, Santa sped off into the night, faster than a speeding bullet — Off, to the land of Oasis!

Little did he know, however, us Oasians would prove reckless, though not as reckless as the shadowy Grune who lived in the mountain overlooking Laughing Valley. For I, fair Athalos, study the stars with my telescope, and on the Joyous Night some years ago, I saw a flash, a zip pass by the highway.

I swiveled and I focused, my telescope clacked and it clicked, and when it came to focus, you wouldn’t believe what I saw through that slat. A man on a sleigh, with animals 21, speeding fast on the road, laughing along his way. Into our homes and our houses he lobbed bombs and threw traps, or so I had thought, he sought our collapse!

In shock and in terror, I rushed to the courtoom to tell Lord Alakshai of our intruder’s error. Alas, afraid and afright, the Lord was nowhere to be found, for it was late in the night! I sought to take care of things myself, indeed, I found it quite alright, and grabbed my staff before heading into the night. Following the trail of ringing bells to the jolly man himself, we came face to face. He was placing presents on the porch of a house by the bay when we locked eyes. He stood quiet in surprise, as if I was not meant to see him, but I saw the intruder and fired my shot. At the time I knew not his reputation, I knew not what he had got.

With a zap of heat and energy, I sought to overheat the sweatered man and take him to the dungeon for questioning. Alas, the fat man can hustle, as he adeptly dodged my bolt, being absorbed by the sandstone wall of the home he found himself delivering to. 

“Ho-ho!” he shouted in shock, jumping onto his sleigh. This time, I sought to freeze him in place with a ray of ice, but I was kicked in the face by fair Slepnir the moment I tried to cast my ray. With a flick of his reins, he was off — and the race was on. 

He raced east, raining tools of destruction (or so I thought) down on every doorstep he passed by. He was much faster than I, there was no hope for me! He swerved left toward the Palace, but I continued straight and pounded on the door of the Lord’s estate with urgency.

“ALAKSHAI! ALAKSHAI!!! WAKE UP, COME QUICKLY!” With no time to wait for a reply, I ascended the sandstone frame surrounding the front door, and clambored onto the fenced off roof, the likes of which Alakshai’s bedroom was on.  As soon as the door to the bedroom was within arm’s reach, I began to pound once more.

“ALAKSHAI! OASIS IS UNDER ATTACK! WE N—” The door swung open, and the half-dressed Lord of Lords himself, wearing a blanket to cover himself and his skull headdress alone, answered. 

“Athalos! Collect yourself, come inside, and explain this to me.” 

Without hesitation, I grabbed Alakshai by the wrist and pulled him out into the open air, losing his blanket to the ground. “There’s no time to spare! He’s headed for the palace!”

“Athalos! Let me get pants on at least!”

“I.. I’ll meet you there!” Frantically, I half-jumped, half-stumbled off the rooftop and into the Lord’s pumpkin patch. With orange-stained robes and pumpkin seeds stuck in my hair, I sprinted with all my stamina to the palace at full speed. I could see the figure dashing around town  going street to street, and as such I beat him to the palace, rushing into my archive and flipping through my most powerful tomes looking for defenses. While I was busy searching for appropriate nonlethal responses for the yet known red threat that raced through our streets, Alakshai thought to approach him head on. 

Alakshai lept with lightning speed, spinning his staff in a wild attack as Santa’s sleigh passed him by. Indeed, he got onto the speeding carriage, but even sitting down, the old man scooched out of the way of the staff’s wicked blow. He dodged not one or two, but three or four swings from the enigmatic Lord before shaking him off with a sharp turn, leaving him in the dust with a hearty laugh. Then I saw him speeding toward Mayor Goodman’s fort, Thanesholme, west of the palace. Spellbook in hand, I ran out into the desert sand after him, meeting up with Alskhai who was sprinting up the bridge to the higher road. Without hesitation, Alakshai used the charms on his bracelet to cast all sorts of shamanic spells, summoning countless spirits to hinder and slow the red giant, all to no avail. Even Will Goodman’s home was ensnared with the Red Menace’s box traps. It’s then I settled on a powerful “suction” spell, an inversion of the whirlwind spell that would pull the sleigh towards us with supernatural force. The suction was so extreme that Alakshai was blown off his feat and sent tumbling back, and I watched amusingly as Santa’s sleigh slowed to a crawl, and the jolly man began to panic, only to crack his reins once more and, as if I he were never trapped at all, he easily sped off faster than before, taking off straight into the skies, a move that left me stunned in the middle of the midnight streets. I helped Alakshai to his feet and handed him my spellbook before running back to the palace.

I don’t know what spells Alakshai chose to cast, but I saw a lot of flashing lights from behind me and heard several explosions and a near-constant rumbling until I reached my sanctum and grabbed my broomstick. I took to the air myself, and I chanted and sped, straight past me went the moon over my head! 

That Jolly man Santa reared his neck to check where I went, and he saw in the end I was following him to my best! I shot as I sped, again and again, so too did Lord Alakshai, from the ground his bolts went, but that man Santa was agile, fast and had tricks. He dipped and he dodged, went right and went left, in the end all was lost, and with a crack of his reins once more  he had sped. Like a blaze in the night, like a bullet that sped, he soared past the full moon, but he dropped us two gifts overhead. Seeing the man in red speed off so fast, I thought I’d never see him again, and to the ground I had lept. 

Alakshai and I took note of the gifts, addressed each to him and to I, upon further inspection they were not traps no, but boxes wrapped with fine papers and dyes. We unwrapped each box and to both our surprise, Alakshai was given an enchanted blue crystal from Lord Hewen’s old stores, a shard of the stormstone chiseled to fit the Rod of Rulership by his fair child Piteraq, alongside a note addressed to us both. The note talked of Santa’s long journey and home, the life that he lived, and what gave him his hope. The gift that he gave me was simple and special, the quill of an angel, and a neverending inkwell, which has long since served me well — For this very tale it served to tell! 

We could see him for just a moment through the night’s sky, and we wished him a hearty goodbye. He had given us magic, the time of our lives, what a ball! For the villainous Man in Black who lived in Devils Junction, however, he left no presents at all.

Thus ends, or rather begins, the legend of Santa Claus.