Tartan, for once, was home.



Home, as in his hometown. The traveling bard had no wife, though he had often been accused of leaving behind a modest smattering of children in his travels. These things he mulled over as he stopped outside the gates of the town. A large earthen barrier surrounded it, and sturdy, oaken gates kept the town free from wandering bands of robbers and hungry wolves. A spindly wooden tower loomed above in the dark, creating an eerie dirge as the midwinter wind whistled through the beams. It was exactly as Tartan remembered it.



His breath swirled around his head as it escaped his thick, woolen muffler. A mittened hand reached out and pulled on a thick rope. On top of the wooden tower, a very tinny-sounding bell rang a few times in the bitter night air. There was a sound of shouting, muted by the snow. Then, a small slat opened in the gate in front of him. A pair of eyes peered out into the night.



"Be ye friend or foe?" Tartan adjusted his scarf so that speaking became easier.



"I am always proud to count you among my friends, good Mr. Tailor - for it is I!" A hoot of laughter punctuated Tartan's greeting.



"Well blow me down, if it isn't Tartan again. Hey boys, we've got Tartan back! Open the gates!"



In a trice, the massive oaken gates swung outward, pushing the powdery snow with it. Tartan strode in confidently, and was at once enveloped in a mob of back-slapping hands.



"Tartan, so good to see you!"



"You devil, you haven't aged a bit."



"We heard you had died in Kibombo!"



"Oh, I remember the last time you visited home..."



A pair of hands gave him a steaming mug of wassail, and then rushed him along to the Mayor's house, as befit the custom.



"Thank you all very much... once I greet the Mayor, I'm sure he'd all welcome you in. The least I can do to thank you for this hospitality is spin a yarn or two..." Cheers greeted this statement. Just then the Mayor's door opened. A reverent hush fell. The only sounds were the flickering of the pine resin torches, the wind, and the strange and wonderful sound of snow landing on the ground.



"Tartan," began the Mayor. "It has been far too long. Please, won't you come inside? We have been expecting you." He made to turn back inside, but as an afterthought faced the crowd once more. "I'm sure the rest of the town would join in in saying..." he prompted, gesturing to the gathered town.



"Welcome back to Vault!" shouted all, with one voice. And the humble assortment of shopkeepers and farmers filed jovially into the large Mayor's Hall to hear what Tartan had to say. What does Tartan have to say, indeed? I give my trust to you, O Temple, to help me decide which tale to tell! Yes, it is time for the 3rd annual Kradenmas Fanfiction Writing Contest!



The rules are simple: write a GS-themed or Templeverse-themed fanfiction and submit it to me no later than Kradenmas Eve at midnight (yes, this is 12/24). The limitations are as follows: the fic must fit into the fandom category previously outlined, and it must take place during winter. It need not concern itself directly with Kradenmas, but explicitly Kradenmas-oriented fanfictions are welcome and encouraged. There is no minimum or maximum length limit. Poetry is welcome as well. Entries are to be sent to my PM inbox.



The judging will be done by myself and the active Staff team, such as they are at the time of judging. I will forward them the fics while omitting the author - the judges will not know who wrote what. Judges will be allotted 5 points with which to award fic entries. The fic with the most points at the end of judging shall be the winner. Judges may spread out their 5 points however they wish - they may reward 5 fics, or just 1. At the end of judging, I will post all fics for all Kradenettes to see, with the top 3 point-getters listed first.



Happy writing, Kradenettes!