To My Dearest Ebbie,
It has been quite some time since I've last written you a letter. Work has been hard around Camp Steven lately, as we have been fighting off endless waves of monsters here and there. It's getting real boring sometimes, but knowing that the holidays are coming, I may have a chance to actually meet you again. In your last letter, you told me of your exploits at the Van Cliff Dungeon. Are you sure you didn't catch a cold or anything? The last time I went there, I almost
froze to death! I guess I'm too accustomed to the tropical climate in Libra, huh?
You might be seeing something familiar afoot very soon. The Holiday Season, better known as Christmas. Yes Ebbie, it's that time of year when people gather and sing those silly Christmas carols and decorate houses with all those gaudy decorations that hurt my eyes. For me, each Christmas decoration is an eyesore. Nothing but humbug for me. Call me a scrooge if you want to, but I don't see why Santa Claus should be considered
the Father of Christmas. (And why people have to dress up in those weird elf costumes.)
Well you know that... day right? Bah, anyway. The blizzard around Camp Steven has gotten stronger than before now that Christmas is near. The only reason I want to spend my holiday leave credits is to be with you. That's less two knightly fatigues, three patrol rounds, and one night sentry duty. All worth it just to be with you.
Because of the abundance of snow in the area, Paris brought a lot of this snow to life and turned it into evil snowmen to do her evil bidding. According to reports, these snowmen have been harassing travelers all over the continent, as the dark magic has enabled them to become resistant to all types of heat. Worry not, these monsters are probably mass-produced so they should be easy to dispose of.
The Spirit of Christmas? Sorry Ebbie, I really don't have it. I just can't feel it this season.
Stay safe from snowmen.
From Your Dear Brother,
Prawnt
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