A Visit From Sir Picks-A-Lot

was the night before Festivult, and high o’er the realm

The airship cruised onward, NPC at its helm.

Our Cannith boots lay on the floor, all in pairs

So jumbled, but we were too tired to care.

From the legacy buffs on up to the top deck

Not one single gift had been opened, not yet.

And the bards with their songs, and the air sorc who zapped

Settled in while the barb dreamed of things that go splat.

When out through the porthole we spied something flashing

That couldn’t be good – we didn’t want to be crashing.

Up, up to the helm I, the paladin, did dash

“If there’s trouble,” I thought, “that’s why I’ve got shield bash.”

The deck was quite slippery, and rightfully so

For the sky had just opened and started to snow.

I rubbed at my eyes – through the flakes did I peer

At a miniature rogue, with a voice loud and clear.

He was little, so tiny, in some gear that he’d nicked

I knew in a moment he must be a… trick.

He seemed to be dreaming, and showed him no shame

As he sleep-called his fantasies, called them by name.

“Oi, Cellimas! Malicia! And you Tidy lasses

“Lift up them skirts and show me yer… stashes!

“From your tops to your skirts, to your waistlines so small

“Now come to me, come to me, come to me, all!”

But the women he called appeared not from the sky

For they were but figments of a mind far from dry.

So onto the deck he spilled, yes, it’s true

With a pack full of trap parts, and some thieves’ tools, too.

Now wide awake, he seemed quite uncouth

And rather a pervert, to tell you the truth.

As I shook my poor head, I started to frown

For he looked like he wanted to shake the ship down.

He glanced all around, as though casing the joint

I told him to leave, but he quite missed the point.

His belt buckle gleamed on a strap of jet black

It was obvious, clearly, that he’d stolen that.

His bag – how it bulged! Almost too much to carry

I’d met him before; it seemed he never varied.

From his thin little mouth his excuses did flow

“Just borrowed,” he swore, “this ain’t stuff that I stole!”

He asked for a drink, and said he was beat

And as soon as I turned, stole the barkeep’s best meat.

I spun him to face me, this sly little fellow

Then fearing my wrath, he started to bellow.

“Jus’ wanted a nosh, y’know, for my health!

“C’mon, you can spare it, this ship reeks of wealth!”

He winked his right eye and nodded his head

And I wished he would leave, as I wanted my bed.

He locked me in the Danger Room before setting to work

And cleaned out every guild chest, that greedy little jerk.

He drank all our broccoli juice, and then picked his nose

I looked away then, because that was quite gross.

He loaded his pockets with all of our treasure

He even stole our bard songs, yes, every measure.

And I heard him exclaim, ere he vanished from sight,

“Happy Festivult to me! Oi, what a great night!”

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