The snow blew an icy knife into his face. His horse and dog, he knew, were suffering even more.

Ahead was a dark structure. He reined in and guided his horse into the lee of the building, tying it to a post. The dog was at his side as he opened the door. The hinges creaked from disuse, but the except for the hole in the center the roof was solid and for some reason he couldn't fathom no snow fell into the place.

It was a big old barn of a place with doors at many places. He could see, in the dim glow of the fireplace...fireplace? With a banked fire?

He lit a match. Nice place, cobwebs and such, but he could take care of that. He drew his rapier with his left hand (it was mounted on his right side because of the recent injury) and slashed it through the air as he turned completely around. As he did, the dust and cobwebs vanished and the fire grew to life. He sheathed his blade

It's time, he said to himself. It's time to reopen The Christmas Tavern. His dog, a duckdog named Gluon, spoke invitingly:


Quark!

Quark!

Quark! 

Quark!

Quark!

Quark!

Quark!

and vanished into whatever multidimensional space he usually visited.

He opened the door again and brought his horse inside, into the warm. As he did so, a welcoming tentacle squirmed out of the jello pool.