Twas the Night Before Unfinished Business

Based on “Twas the Night Before Christmas” by Clement Clarke Moore

'Twas the night before unfinished business, when all through the inn
not a creature was conferring, not even Derrin.
The bodies were stacked by the door with care,
in hopes that Gromon would get bonus XP for flair.

Gromon was nestled, all snug in his bed,
while visions of axes danced in his head.
Thonkmom in armor, and Rye in her hood,
had just settled their wounds for a long awaited interlude

When all aloof there arose such a clatter,
Gromon sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he thrashed,
tore open the shutter with merely his grasp

The moon on the breast of a new-fallen foe
gave the feel of mistrust on the prey out below
when, what to Gromon’s wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature Ado, looking up at him with such cheer!

With a little billfold skiver, so soft with a shine.
Gromon knew in a moment it must be time.
More plastered than the walls, his breath aflame,
Ado sang loudly and called them by name:

“Now Gromon! Now Thonk,
Now Rye, and Forstein!
I found a quest,a mission!
To the end of the gorge!
To the top of Blackhill!
Now smash away, bash away!
Slay them all!"

As with ease like a knife through butter, they rely
when they meet with an obstacle, it will die
So out of the house they flew
With armor, weapons, and spells ready too.

And then, with a signalling, and a subtle pause
They heard the pawing of tiny claws.
As they drew their weapons, and turned around,
Down came the kobolds with a bound.

He was dressed in fur, green from his head to feet,
And his clothes were drenched with blood and sweat.
A bundle of loot some had flung on their back,
And they would fight to protect each and every pack.

Gromon’s eyes - how they sparkled! His brows, how they furrow!
His wrinkles creasing, his axe not always at the straight and narrow.
His drolled tusked mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the muscles on his torso shined like the snow.
The braid of a mo-hawk sat upon his head,
And he wore a necklace of skulls to showcase the dead.
He had a broad smile, and a muscled round belly,
That shook when he cackled, like kobold jelly.

He was strong and tall, a right jolly Orc,
And he laughed when the kobolds saw him, in spite of himself.
A wink of his eye and twist of his wrist,
Soon removed their hands, their heads and other bits.

He spoke not a word, but went on with his work,
And filled all his enemies with pain and hurt.
As Rye went down, and Ado made a quip,
Thonk gave a nod, and Gromon did not quit.

As he sprang from his rage, he gave a mighty roar,
And down they all came, each kobold with a thump
Before the last fell, Gromon replied with a shout,
“Merry looting to all, and a bloody good fight!”