Santa watched impassively from his seat as the mob dragged the bruised Scottie into the light of the bonfire and tied him in place. Santa's stony face, only half-lit in the light of the flame, disguised his impatience at the seemingly endless day, but at long last he could begin to have his revenge on the rebels.
Santa leaned forward and looked the defeated Scottie directly in the eyes. "You know why you're here." Santa rumbled into the suddenly quiet night, "Do you have any last words?" "You idiots, you're making a mistake, and you're all going to pay for your stupidity" Scottie mumbled through swollen lips, his words barely audible, "But if this is the only way to save Nen, then so be it."
Santa let out a quiet snort, then reclined back into his seat. At that same moment the sound of someone, something, heavy crunching through the snow echoed out. A large polar bear glided into the light from behind Santa's chair, its glassy eyes glistening with anticipation. Santa idly reached out to stroke his pet beast's head.
"I would have personally selected something a little more...pithy...in your position. But perhaps I'm being unkind. After all, this isn't my funeral, is it?"
Santa lazily pointed, and his pet stalked forward to fulfill his command. History records that Scottie did in fact have more words to say before his end, although some witnesses argue that those were not so much words as just whimpers and gurgling noises...
*NIGHT TWO START*