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With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore:
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Fang
Not a Wolf Priest was stirring, Swift Claw or Long Fang.
The tankards were hung in the Great Hall with care,
In hopes that the Allfather soon would be there.
The Blood Claws were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of blood and guts danced in their heads.
And Logan, the Greatwolf, an Axe in his lap,
Had hung up his Bolter for a long winter’s nap.
When out in the snow fields arose such a clatter,
Defence Lasers swivelled preparing to splatter,
Their targeting reticules trained on the sight,
But quickly stood-down with a beep of delight.
Out of the storm, stepped a shadowy figure
And as humanoids go, I’ve not seen one bigger!
Before him there strode two devilish beasts,
Both clearly great wolves with sharp, pointy teeth.
The wind whipped around him with hurricane force,
But the giant strode on staying true to his course.
He drew back his lips and spoke with a growl,
"On Freki and Geri, to the drinking hall now."
A climb to the gate was made in a trice
Over rocky outcrops encrusted with ice.
Russ stood at the door and bellowed a call,
“The Lord has returned once again to his hall!”
A single Blood Claw awoke from his slumber,
And sought out a snack to stifle his hunger.
On passing the hall he stopped with a gasp,
Beholding a sight he barely could grasp.
The Primarch spoke out to in a deep throaty roar,
"Be at peace now my son, and don't stay by the door,
Come join me in drink there's Ale and Mulled Wine,
My stay here is short, it's not yet Wolf Time."
He drank through the night recounting the Sagas,
Thirstily downing both bitters and lagers.
The Blood Claw sat opposite, silenced in awe
At the sight of the legend who'd walked through the door.
As good as his word at the first light of Dawn,
Russ gathered his Wolves and laid down his horn.
But he turned back and called, 'fore he went out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
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" -KingCracker
