"I fail to see the purpose of this mission." Sten folded his arms, fixing the Warden beneath a withering stare.

Beside him, Alistair shook his head. "I sort of - well I sort of have to agree with him... strange as that is."

"And I will have no part of it." Morrigan sneered.

"I already told you. The plan is simple. Santa Claus, a dear friend of mine, cannot visit every home in one night. So I told him we'd lend a hand." They all stared at the Warden as though she'd grown a second head.

Thankfully, Leliana moved to stand beside her. "I think that it is a marvelous idea."

"Wynne, how are the presents coming?"

Across the clearing the mage bustled about, watching over the brightly colored packages as they seemed to wrap themselves. "Nearly finished. And I do not see why everyone is making such a fuss. It has been too long since we've had a mission that did not involve slaughter."

Sten grunted. "We shall see."

Humming to herself, Wynne loaded the presents into the bulging sack hanging over Shale's shoulder. The golem growled, but the old woman lay a hand on its arm. "There are no birds. In fact... this one is a BB gun. A naughty child might use it to-"

"-shoot the foul beasts from the sky?"

She nodded.

"I think that I shall enjoy this mission."

"Does everyone understand their roles?" The Warden moved down the line, inspecting the rest of her troops.

"Stealth and infiltration, as you command, Dear Warden." Zevran dropped into a sweeping bow. "We shall be in and out with the treasure before our targets are any the wiser."

"We're not stealing anything, Zev. We're leaving things. Gifts."

The elf looked perplexed.

"Leliana?"

"Carols." She giggled. "I am looking forward to it."

"Oghren?"

"Heh. I'm the diversion. In case anyone spots us. Jus' gotta sit in the sleigh an' be - what's the word?"

"Jolly."

"Jolly. Right." With a long pull from his flask, he took a few staggering steps toward the waiting wagon and flopped down on the seat with a resounding belch.

"Close enough. Morrigan?"

"No. I shall not."

"Why?"

"'Tis insulting."

The Warden folded her arms, meeting the other woman stare for stare. "I would say 'think of the children' but I think-"

"-She might eat them?" Alistair finished for her.

"Morrigan. You're essential to this mission. The only one who can do it."

"Empty flattery will get you nowhere."

"Fine. I order you."

With a piercing scowl, the witch sighed. She seemed to grow larger, the air around her shimmering to leave a large, horned beast in her place.

The Warden gave an appraising nod, screwing up her face as she stepped round. "Red. The nose should be red."

The reindeer stamped an angry hoof but its nose began to glow.

"Sten, there will be cookies. Get in the sleigh."

After a moment's contemplation, the Qunari complied.

This left only Alistair. With a barely-suppressed grin, the Warden circled round, examining his new "armor." He shifted uncomfortably under her stare, itching at the clinging tights, the short green tunic, the hastily attached plastic ears. "Shouldn't Zevran be wearing..."

From the sleigh, Zevran coughed. "I did not think you such a racist, my friend."

"Zevran has his job. You have yours."

"But why does it have to be mine?"

The Warden smirked, taking the newly-minted "elf" in all his clinging, green glory by the hand. "Why, because I love to torment you, of course."