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'Twas the night before Winter, when all through the camp
not a player was stirring, not even a wooden gnome dwarf.
The last meats were cooked in the crockpot with care,
in hopes that I, Koalefant-tracker soon would be there.

My allies were nestled all snug near the fire,
while visions of meaty stews danced in their eyes.
And Wilson in his 'vest, and Wolfgang in his hat,
had just settled their butts for a cold winter snap.


When out of the dark there arose such a chatter,
They sprang from the fire to see what's the matter.
Away to the portal they ran like a flash,
to save the poor Willow, who's freezing her ass.


The tracks stood out on the new-fallen snow
giving hopes of food to the grumbling below,
when what have my weary, freezing eyes found,
but an ugly ass creature with eight vicious hounds.


With a little old shudder, I ran like mad,
I knew in a moment it must be a Varg.
More rapid than eagles, his minions they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Dasher! Now Dancer!
Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid!
On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the silly player!
To that Wickerbottom!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Murder that old besom!"


As all murderous mobs, with a narrow mind,
when led to horny beefaloes, kill them, they tried.
So safely ignored, back to the camp, I flew,
with a backpack full of nothing, but beefalo poo.

And then, in a twinkling, I saw on the chat
the cursing and howling of each of my chaps.
As I ran back to camp, I held back a gasp,
down came Willow's lighter on our chest (the last!)



She was dressed in malice, from her head to her foot,
and her eyes danced crazily, at the camp turned to soot.
A bundle of things, my friends flung on her back,
but she just turned around and burnt them all black.

Her eyes--how they twinkled! Her face, how scary!
Wilson called her b****, she giggled like a loony!
Wolfgang was crying, stomping in the snow,
but the server was non-PVP, sad to say so.



With that infinite lighter, she held in her hand,
she cursed up a storm, and followed us around.
"hahaha u nubs just keep crying u biuthces",
'Til my friends logged out, left me alone in that mess.

I held back my tongue, like a weak old granny,
and tried to ignore the pyromaniac filly.
In truth I was brewing revenge in my heart.
How? By equipping a beefalo hat, to start!



I spoke not a word, and went back to the herd,
lit a fire in their midst, and roasted a bird.
While outside the circle, the Willow still danced,
calling me rude names, at least, til she found...

...the Varg who's sleeping, unawares on the side.
She tried to turn back, but there's nowhere to hide.

With horny cows and Winter and a legion of hounds,

I laughed as she died, then I picked up her light.




TL;DR I found a Varg. I found horny beefaloes. I met a Griefer. She died in front of me. Sweet, sweet revenge.


PS images cropped from random screenshots and DS wiki.


(Edit: Timeline was edited for uhm... story flow. It wasn't really the night before Winter. :grin: But it was sometime in Day 30+, when cows were in heat.)

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Ok I'm not going to read all this...

I'm guilty of skipping poetry too. XD But this one is a parody of sorts. Here's the TL;DR at the bottom:


TL;DR I found a Varg. I found horny beefaloes. I met a Griefer. She died in front of me. Sweet, sweet revenge.
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