In the Frozen North
Posted: Thu Dec 25, 2008 11:03 pm
In the frozen North, a grotesque zombie, newly created, shambled arm in arm with a skeleton through the haunted, frigid corridors of Icecrown Citadel. The zombie said:
"Braaaiiiiinnsssss...."
WRONG North, fammit!
Ahem.
In the frozen North, a fluffy penguin hatchling waddled through soft snow beside a plush-furred newborn polar bear cub. A candycane striped pole rose from the snow before them. Side-by-side, they moved forward to examine it.
The penguin said:
"Squawrk."
Pan down. Follow the red and white of the pole through layers of snow, through ice, into unfrozen water. Keep going, past the snoozing orca whale, down, down, down, where no light can reach, where the only thing visible is the faintly shining light of the pole...
Gradually, the water starts to freeze again. Gradually we come once more into ice and cold earth, ever-penetrated by the pole...
And now to the network of caverns, glowing with heat and light and colors, hidden by magic where no eyes will ever find them.
The Workshop.
"OI! INCOMIN' OAN BELT THREE!"
"A'rit a'ready! Bollocks yeh bloody piker, nae need fir tae shout!"
"CATCH!"
Conveyor Belt #3 rumbled with energy. The long box glided down it, dripping ribbons and wrapping paper. Rapidly, it came closer to the exit chute.
"GET READY!"
A squad of tiny craftsmen, each one in the official red and green hat and uniform that signified their trade, rushed into place before the chute. The box hurtled toward them.
"ONE!"
It picked up speed. Pointed shoes squared with determination on black rubber.
"TWA!"
The box hit the chute.
"THRAE!"
With perfect precision the squad of Helpers sprang to the sides as the box flew headlong into the midst of them. Tiny hands caught the ribbons on either side; pointed shoes trailed smoke as they dragged, then stopped on the rubber landing pad. The box came to a halt, and a dozen high pitched voices sighed in relief.
"Wael din, yeh lot. This'n's tha' last o' 'em, tae. Jist needs fir the Big Man's dibblecheck, nae."
On cue the rotund shadow fell over the Helpers. They cleared way for the man in the beard and the suit, and his List. He leaned forward, beard dragging, and peered into the box. The frame shone and glistened with the repressed-energy warmth of chrome and titansteel. His eyes moved to the List and traveled down.
"Och, nae this'n's for a very special lass indeed, it seems. She'd best deserve it... Aye, here she be."
The Big Man smiled behind his beard. His eye twinkled as it found the right name.
"Aye. HELPERS!"
The Helpers scurried into formation, each one bearing a list of their own.
"LIST CHECK ONE!"
In unison, a dozen tiny voices cried out, "NICE!"
The Big Man nodded and made a check mark beside the name.
"CHECK TWO!"
"NICE!"
The second checkmark fell into place. The Big Man tucked the List away and chuckled deeply.
"Aye, that'll do, lads an' lassies. Finish packin' it up and get it on the sleigh, an' we'll be off. This lass deserves her present very well-- make sure an' mark it right! 'Tis from her guild and some o' 'er friends, ta show their love an' how much they care fer 'er. Write all o' that down."
A Helper scurried forward with a label and a marker, scribbling furiously.
"Whir's it deliverin' tae, boss?"
The Big Man stroked his beard in contemplation. "Best make it Ironforge, lad. I'll be thirsty.
"Lass better get 'er arse there damn quick, if she wants her present."
"Braaaiiiiinnsssss...."
WRONG North, fammit!
Ahem.
In the frozen North, a fluffy penguin hatchling waddled through soft snow beside a plush-furred newborn polar bear cub. A candycane striped pole rose from the snow before them. Side-by-side, they moved forward to examine it.
The penguin said:
"Squawrk."
Pan down. Follow the red and white of the pole through layers of snow, through ice, into unfrozen water. Keep going, past the snoozing orca whale, down, down, down, where no light can reach, where the only thing visible is the faintly shining light of the pole...
Gradually, the water starts to freeze again. Gradually we come once more into ice and cold earth, ever-penetrated by the pole...
And now to the network of caverns, glowing with heat and light and colors, hidden by magic where no eyes will ever find them.
The Workshop.
"OI! INCOMIN' OAN BELT THREE!"
"A'rit a'ready! Bollocks yeh bloody piker, nae need fir tae shout!"
"CATCH!"
Conveyor Belt #3 rumbled with energy. The long box glided down it, dripping ribbons and wrapping paper. Rapidly, it came closer to the exit chute.
"GET READY!"
A squad of tiny craftsmen, each one in the official red and green hat and uniform that signified their trade, rushed into place before the chute. The box hurtled toward them.
"ONE!"
It picked up speed. Pointed shoes squared with determination on black rubber.
"TWA!"
The box hit the chute.
"THRAE!"
With perfect precision the squad of Helpers sprang to the sides as the box flew headlong into the midst of them. Tiny hands caught the ribbons on either side; pointed shoes trailed smoke as they dragged, then stopped on the rubber landing pad. The box came to a halt, and a dozen high pitched voices sighed in relief.
"Wael din, yeh lot. This'n's tha' last o' 'em, tae. Jist needs fir the Big Man's dibblecheck, nae."
On cue the rotund shadow fell over the Helpers. They cleared way for the man in the beard and the suit, and his List. He leaned forward, beard dragging, and peered into the box. The frame shone and glistened with the repressed-energy warmth of chrome and titansteel. His eyes moved to the List and traveled down.
"Och, nae this'n's for a very special lass indeed, it seems. She'd best deserve it... Aye, here she be."
The Big Man smiled behind his beard. His eye twinkled as it found the right name.
"Aye. HELPERS!"
The Helpers scurried into formation, each one bearing a list of their own.
"LIST CHECK ONE!"
In unison, a dozen tiny voices cried out, "NICE!"
The Big Man nodded and made a check mark beside the name.
"CHECK TWO!"
"NICE!"
The second checkmark fell into place. The Big Man tucked the List away and chuckled deeply.
"Aye, that'll do, lads an' lassies. Finish packin' it up and get it on the sleigh, an' we'll be off. This lass deserves her present very well-- make sure an' mark it right! 'Tis from her guild and some o' 'er friends, ta show their love an' how much they care fer 'er. Write all o' that down."
A Helper scurried forward with a label and a marker, scribbling furiously.
"Whir's it deliverin' tae, boss?"
The Big Man stroked his beard in contemplation. "Best make it Ironforge, lad. I'll be thirsty.
"Lass better get 'er arse there damn quick, if she wants her present."
