Hello dearest of listeners,
In this episode, Anthony, Klaas, and Ryan discuss lists that they think you need to plan for in 2018. We then give our very funded opinions on the new ADR, and finish by making wild predictions about the 2018 meta, because we’re prophets and wizards like that.
That being said, I don’t want to keep this gem from you:
Twas the night before Cryxmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The wardings were scratched on the chimney with care,
In hopes that Asphyxious would not soon be there.
The children were huddled all scared in their beds,
While visions of bane thralls danced in their heads.
And Caine in his ‘leathers, and Seige with no cap,
Had just settled their brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to his gunfighters eyes should appear,
But a swirl of soulfire, and a skeletal glare.
With a little soul driver, so lively and quick,
A Seether leapt forward, his claws going a-click .
More rapid than greyhounds the Helljacks they came,
And the Lich whistled, shouted, and called them by name!
“Now Seether! now, Slayer! now, Harrower and Canker!
On, Ripjaw! On, ‘Ripper! on, on Stalker and Nightwretch!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away, Cygnarans, Dash away all!”
As ghostly as moonlight that dapples the grass,
When they meet with an obstacle, straight through it they pass.
So into the fortress, the steel predators flew,
With the eyes full of hunger, and Asphyxious too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The crashing and crunching of an Iron Lich hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
With teleportation Asphyxious came with a bound.
He was made all of iron, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of souls he had held in his cages,
And he looked like a nightmare, a fear for the ages.
His eyes-how they twinkled! His head without hair!
His feat was a dickpunch, his spell list unfair!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like in a grin,
He clapped his hands gaily as the Spectral Legion came in.
The stump of an puppy he held tight in his teeth,
And the souls they encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a free upkeep, where you’re Bound is all Helly
Caine shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was not chubby nor plump, never left on the shelf,
Haley cried when she saw him, in spite of herself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know the grip of true dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Murdering warcasters, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, teleported away to wherever he chose!
He sprang to the rooftops, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Cryxmas to all, and to all a good-night!”