The world has sung songs of mystique and praise for the advent cavalier: harbinger of justice and generosity. However, no coat can be dyed so deeply red without some sacrifice. The lord of the house long ago succumbed to the pressures of his titles, seeking arcane passages through the universe’s fabric to deliver gifts with supernatural expediency.
A rotund old fellow with a dense, bone-white beard and spry eyeballs below a sagging brow, Lord Claus is larger than life. He smells of sugar cookies and damp moss, spiked eggnog and crushed rosemary.
Jolly, benevolent, and intimidating. Generally warm and amiable with a deep, bellowing voice … When you cross a line with Lord Claus, he will ensure you know who rides the winds and inspires the world: Not you.
Santa seems to be of two minds and doesn't necessarily remember what you discussed the last time you saw him.
Santa pulls you aside and asks if you can help with with a minor indiscretion. "I made a duplicate of myself, so I could accomplish twice the tasks, but I've lost sight of him. I need you to find my double, convince him to stay put somewhere out of sight, and come find me. I'll handle the rest." The worst part? This is the third Santa to approach you with this request in the past several hours, each varying slightly, each believing themselves the true lord of the manor.
Lord Claus is expecting a special dinner guest and has asked for two requirements:
Santa's workshop has grown increasingly cluttered with black candles, curved daggers, and books in unfamiliar languages that are, based on the illustrations, related to either matters surgical or the butcher's art. But he pulls you aside and tells you that you must keep this as quiet as possible: He requires a half pound of elf fat. "It must be warm," he whispers, with a quiver of fear in his voice. "And it must arrive soon. Can I trust you?"
A terrible Being from the outer dark, having given Lord Claus the power he needed, has become increasingly insistent about repayment. Creatures half-viewed in the deep shadows of the mansion whisper that Lord Claus must be delivered to the Being. Santa has tasked you with finding a gullible individual who can be convinced that a) Santa has departed this realm and b) they must assume the mantle of Santa Claus. Do NOT mention the bit about a Great Debt and a Personal Doom.