Episode I: The Death of Crimbo

Well, see, there's this trade dispute on Naboo, and -- nah, forget it. That story sucks. The story about Crimbo thus far:

For hundreds of years, Father Crimbo was the jolly, obese bringer of good tidings to the Kingdom. Every four years (give or take), he would fly through the Kingdom in his magic sleigh, leaving presents for every adventure. Nobody ever actually saw Father Crimbo, or his magical home, Crimbo Town, and that seemed to suit everyone just fine.

Unfortunately, like all good things -- and especially like all good things that are fueled by nothing but whole milk and sugar cookies -- Father Crimbo came to an end. Just eight years (give or take) after the Naughty Sorceress first imprismed King Ralph XI, Father Crimbo suffered a massive heart attack and was found face down in the snow between his cottage and the reindeer stalls. The elves wept, the reindeer were inconsolable, and every adventurer woke up crying and didn't know why. Well, I may be exaggerating that last bit. Well, at the very least, everyone had a mild case of indigestion.

Once the elves' tears dried, they realized that they had to act quickly to save the holiday from disappearing forever. They recalled that Father Crimbo would occasionally, if given an extra cup of egg nog, talk about his long-lost brother -- a no-good, alcoholic, shiftless layabout, a traitor to the family name. The elves set off on a search for this brother, for even if he was a drunken hobo, he was the rightful heir to Crimbo, and every adventurer's last hope for a happy hoilday.

The elves found Uncle Crimbo lying in a gutter on the Wrong Side of the Tracks in the Sleazy Back Alley. Despite his vociferous (and slurred) protests, the elves whisked him away to Crimbo Town, sobered him up, and taught him how to perform Father Crimbo's duties.

Part II: The Elfretariat

Once he sobered up a little, Uncle Crimbo moved his mobile home to the center of Crimbo Town, and set out to fill his brother's shoes. Unfortunately, he filled those shoes with peppermint schnapps, and emptied them just as quickly. The elves pleaded with him to at least use a glass, but Uncle Crimbo said the leather improved the flavor.

Uncle Crimbo was as good at getting stinking drunk as he was bad at everything else. While Father Crimbo had always treated the elves like his own children, Uncle Crimbo treated them like little more than slave labor. The cheery elven workshop became a hazardous, filthy sweatshop. He kept the elves from revolting by turning his flying reindeer into a jack-booted gestapo force. Any elf who spoke up against Uncle Crimbo could count on getting a candy cane to the kneecaps.

One reindeer, though, was disgusted by these new reindeer games, and set about organizing the elves in secret. This reindeer's name was Rudolph the Red, and he helped the elves to organize a union to fight back against Crimbo's tyranny. The labor disputes ended in a strike: the elves left the workshop and took up arms against the reindeer. Toy production ground to a halt, and it looked like Crimbo was over for good.

But Uncle Crimbo had a few cliches up his sleeve. As Crimbo Day approached and Uncle Crimbo's magical power increased, he made the unprecedented move of opening Crimbo Town to adventurers. He explained to the adventurers that he needed help ending the labor dispute, and that the quickest way to do so was to beat the elves into submission. Adventurers poured into Crimbo Town to fight the elves, steal their toy-making raw materials, and deliver them to Uncle Crimbo so he could make presents.

What Crimbo didn't anticipate, however, was that just as many adventurers were sympathetic to the elves' plight. These adventurers picked up picket signs and joined the strike line, doing battle with the strikebreaking reindeer. Eventually, Crimbo was forced to admit that his tactics weren't working, and returned to the bargaining table.

The elves and Crimbo eve

You're in a very clever rat disguise, at least from the neck up. If it weren't for the fact that you don't have fur, or a scaly little tail, and that you're not six inches tall, you could totally pass for a rat. You feel a little like an undercover spy, even though it's somewhat less impressive to be spying on a bunch of rats.

You wake up in the middle of the night and see a bright light outside of your bed curtains. Since you don't have any curtains (and may or may not have a bed), you're pretty sure you're dreaming. You hope it's not curtains for you, though.
You push back the curtains and the bright light solidifies into a ghost! He has the requisite long, white robe, but some decidedly non-requisite dreadlocks hanging down past his shoulders. He gazes piercingly at you and speaks.

"Hey, mon," he says. "I be Marley's Ghost. I come to tell ya that tonight ye will be visited by tree spirits."

"Tree spirits?" you ask. "You mean those fruity little things in Canadia?"

"Nah, mon," he says. "One, two, tree -- tree spirits."

"Is this about me realizing I'm a horrible person and resolving to change, and ending up all giddy as a schoolboy?" you ask. "Because, if so, I'd rather just stay horrible. It doesn't bother me, except when people move my chair."

"Nah, mon." The ghost answers. "Uncle Crimbo's gone missing, and these tree spirits are going to help yah rescue him. The first is de ghost of Crimbo Way, Way Past. The second is the ghost of Crimbo Right-about-now. You'll like him, he's a funk soul brother. The third is the Ghost of Crimbo In The Not-Too-Distant Future. You'll see the first one the next time you fall asleep."

"Seriously," you say, "I don't really want to bother with any ghosts, man. I mean, I don't even have my proton pack."

"Expect the first one the next time you fall asleep," the ghost repeats, and starts to fade away, singing some song about martial bison.

You wake up to the sound of someone banging a bone against a rock. Well, you don't know that's what the sound is until you get up and look, but that's what it is.
You see a shimmery, transparent caveman (who may or may not have just saved a lot of money on his car insurance), dressed in furs and squatting on your floor, pounding said rock with said leg-bone.

"Me Ugh. Gwee tonga nala tonga macha pooka." he says, gesturing and grunting at you.

"You're Ugh, the ghost of Crimbo Way, Way Past, and you want me to go to the Big Mountains, where Crimbotown was last year, and I'll be magically transported to CrimboRock, which is Crimbotown thousands of years ago?"

"Ugh. Gwee zug fech haraka ool."

"And you say that once I'm there, I can fight monsters, make toys, and find part of the magic spell for rescuing Uncle Crimbo?"

"Ugh," the caveman says, nodding his assent.

Wow, I wish I could speak Caveman.