'Twas The Hour Before Raid - 12.18.2007

Today, Rufuscrim from the WoW General Forums posted his WoW version of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas; he calls it 'Twas The Hour Before Raid.

Twas the hour before raid time, and all through the Crew,
Not a player was joining the Warsong Gulch queue;
They finished their transmutes of new Primal Mights
In hopes that the GM would send out invites;
The guildies were herded, all packed into Vent
While links to hot epics kept them on the scent;
And Note in her cat gear, and heal gear on Cam -
Does that new recruit shaman have enough stam?
When out from the leader there came such a chatter;
I asked, "WTF?" to see what was the matter.
Out of the instance I flew with a flash-
Someone had just pulled five groups of trash.
"Run back," said the leader, "don't wait for a rez!"
All but the new shaman do what he says;
He got the boot, and who entered the mix?
A pimpin’ Dwarf Warrior decked out in Tier 6!
I looked for a guild tag and found not an answer:
I knew in an instant he must be a transfer!

More rapid than Nihilum, trash mobs we cleared;
The orders then came that a lesser guild feared:
"Now Bogdon! Now Tuon! Now Rufus and Hathin!
On Trynan! On Darkblaze! On Warrax and Ultrin!
To the top of the healing and DPS meter!
Now pull the boss! Pull the boss! Pull her and beat her!"
As bones from past wipes lay scattered around,
The tank used a charge to help cover some ground;
So up to the end boss' lair, o, they flew
With eyes on the epics, and the new warrior too;
And then, over Vent, I heard some shrill cries,
"I'll @*$& up the healers if the tank dies!!"
As I mashed on the keyboard to Backstab the boss;
The raid quickly suffered its very first loss.
"The new warrior's dead! Oh no! We're so @#&$’ed!"
"Are not!" yelled the GM, "We just got bad luck’ed!
We've battled through worse! We will not relent!
She's already down to sixty percent!"
The DoTs and the heals, they hit and they flew;
Look out! Change it up! She's entered phase two!

The DPS stopped while the tank gained some threat;
(The healers still must have been worried, I bet);
"DPS on!" was the call to attack;
"Hey warlock! Too fast! Soulshatter! Pull back!"
"Twenty percent!" someone shouted with glee;
Better get ready, it's time for phase three!
"She hits so much harder! Blow cooldowns and fight!"
"That was too close! Quick, more Holy Light!"
Three percent! Two percent! One percent! Dead!
The guildies and I went to teabag her head!
"What did she drop?" the raiders all wondered;
The raid leader went to go see what was plundered.
Officers gasp... they're the first ones to see;
Rejoice! They have given an epic to me!
The portals are up, the raiders are gone;
I wonder what enchant that I should put on?

The GM did shout as the mood became lax,
"Good raid, everyone! This guild is teh hax!!"

The names in this poem are people from in Rufuscrim's guild, Strange Brew. Also, the word "Crew" in the first line refers to the guild's nickname, The Brew Crew.

I hope that this gets you all into the Holiday Spirit like it did me.

-Matt Graham