<div align="center">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/a6/Evergreen.jpg)</div><br/><br/><div align="center"><em><strong>"Turning my eyes to the horizon, I saw a sunrise breaking out of the ocean's depths<br/>I wasn't able to think about tomorrow, for my heart was overflown with worry"</strong></em></div><br/>[New-Evergreen, 2 days earlier]<br/><em>As I stood there that morning, on the highest balcony outside my room towering above the royal palace, a tearstained scroll clenched in my hand, I saw them entering. One by one they walked through the streets, some only now arriving past the gates: A ranger, a rogue, a merchant, an acrobat and a whore, all completely oblivious to my spying eyes. A tiny sad smile appeared on my wet and painted face. I spread my hands to the sides <br/>and jumped.</em><br/><br/><div align="center"><em><strong>"A bird flew outside my window, and I wondered:<br/>Was it able to find light?"</strong></em></div><br/><div align="center">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/e9/Shadowstitle.jpg)</div><br/><br/>[New-Evergreen, current day. The first day of Winterfest]<br/>What is it about those gleeful days of holy festivities, which gets us into such depressing depths of sorrow and melancholy?<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/3e/Lanterns.jpg)</div>The first day of the Winterfest, which was, by majority, the most cheerful holiday in the alliance calendar, was celebrated the day after the day I died; So, while the candle bearers, the honor guard, the orchestra and the band of grievers were all preparing for my funeral up there at the royal palace, the citizens of New-Evergreen did the best they could to celebrate the joyful festival of winter, in spite of the actual winter (which was, also according to the majority, nothing to be so cheerful about). Colorful lanterns were hung high above every doorstep, decorating the ceiling of every single tavern with the festive colors of red and blue. Festive cakes and baked snacks, coated with a snowy sugary frosting and seasoned with spicy Scorch seeds, were traded across most pastry stands and handed to every paying patron across the tavern-riddled kingdom. Fathers and mothers around the enlightened world all made plans to sneak shiny coins under the pillows of their gullible offspring, and young priests- followed by their choir boys- traveled from home to home, inn to inn, singing on every doorstep, imposing their holiday cheer and preaching for kindness, courage and unrelenting seasonal bliss. Indeed, people were laboring above and beyond to preserve the empty-yet euphoric- holiday atmosphere.<br/>However, should the observant of men take a closer look, he would be able to notice the sarcastic bitterness behind every foolish grin, the deep sorrow plaguing most pairs of misty eyes and the unmistakable despair hiding behind every liquor-flustered set of cheeks. For you see, it is during these rare days of the year, when the masses are as gleeful as a bunch of drunken nuns and the expectancy to rejoice is in an all times high, that we can't help but ponder on all of the things we lack in our lives, all of the painful hollows of our existences and every last wrong that the merciless gods have chosen to bestow upon us. After all, there is truly nothing as depressing as watching your fellow man being as gay and as unperturbed as a fat monk right past the blessing ritual of the ceremonial whine, and there's nothing that shines quite as gloomily at the light of a carefree man, as one's personal misfortunes.  Should you seek a proof to the woes of being out of the lady luck's traitorous grace; you need not look far beyond the very center of New Evergreen's market district, where Mr. Verik Galean has dared to set up his stand.<br/><br/>I say dare and almost fall victim to a giggly fit, to be honest, since among the very colorful variety of mankind, you are unlikely to find a man less daring than Verik Galean. That gray little man might be even too cautious to risk mouthing the word and for a good reason indeed. For you see, when it comes to bad luck- the spoiled merchant has had more than his fair share. He didn't come from a particularly unfortunate background, his merchant of a father was reasonably successful- to the point where his son could afford raising a spoiled brat such as Verik used to be. He wasn't extremely unfortunate himself, he didn't descend to poverty as his father's humble trading company was handed to him, he never had to fall to his knees on the streets and beg, nor has he ever truly suffered real pain or misery. No. Verik's bad-luck was a lot more patient than that, he was allowed small-yet-predictable winnings, nothing that would ever perk any brows or even make a maiden's loins wet with greed; Verik usually gained just enough to make it through the winter, and every time he gained some, he lost some back- sometimes even twice the amount, just to put some strain on him. It was when he tried too hard, when he actually had the nerve to dare, that bad and unlucky things would happen. Ships got lost in the open seas, convoys fell victims to bandits and wildlife, safe gambles were suddenly trampled by unexpected overturns and perfectly good and rare merchandize got destroyed for no good reason. Each and every time Verik dared raising his nose up, he was smacked down by the unexpected, as if fate pulled out its cosmic belt to show the unsuspecting man his place; and so, Verik quickly learned his place in the world: cautiously somewhere in the middle.<br/><br/>(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/c/c8/Greatmarket.jpg)<br/>To be perfectly honest, he never wanted to put up his stand on the first day of Winterfest, nor did he plan to do that at the dead middle of the market square. It was the weather that forced him to take that ostentatious leap of faith, since he did not believe the open market would be fit for trading for the next couple of rainy days. It was his trader of a friend that has loaned him his lot at the center of the square, the man's ship was running late, and he probably thought he was doing Verik a favor. In the weeks to come, Verik would probably wonder whether his friend had survived long enough to realize how wrong he has been.<br/><br/>And so, during that late morning hour, as the dark clouds slowly formed above the western shores of Avalon, Verik has just finished spreading his goods across his newly acquired stand, and already he was able to close a deal, sending the content dwarf on his little way. For a moment there, things were going pretty well, his merchandize was selling in a reasonably pleasing pace, buyers and prospecting servants found interest in his wares, promising to return should he offer a deal or two, and the man was more than happy to oblige. Counting the coins in his hands, he almost cautiously decided it was going to be a lucky day after all. Thinking back, he probably shouldn't have done that. There are certain sentences and claims specific people just need to keep away from, they vary from a person to person. In Verik's case, the man should never think, let alone say: "Ah, this is going well."<br/><br/>As the old man stabbed the edge of the table with the knob of his twisted cane, Verik was just about to ask one of his guards to watch the table, as he suddenly felt fairly weak. Verik turned to look at his new customer, and found himself eyed by the most improbable set of peepers, one was overly larger than the other, and there was something about his face… his coat… his everything. Everything about the old man screamed 'Bad Omen', and Verik had his fair share of those. Judging by his weird getup, he probably did not have many coins to spend, and people started rerouting their steps away from the booth.<br/>The merchant was about to say something, the words 'away with you!' came to his mind, as the stranger reached his bony and tanned hand forward and opened his claw-like fingers. Six coins were held in his palm, and as his fingers started to jitter and tremble- much like an old man's hand would- the coins started shaking and moving restlessly, clinking against each other. There was something about the spectacle that made Verik's stomach turn. His weakness grew, and he felt it spreading from his stomach to his legs, weakening the joints in his knees, unhinging his limbs. He could feel the cold and irrational fear creeping up his spine, taking a hold in his mind, turning this mousy man into a frightened critter.<br/>His palms were already shaking, but he didn't realize it until he felt the cold sweat dripping from the tips of his fingers. Verik took a step back, just as the coins started dropping from the shaking hand. Everything around him turned darker, and his heart felt as if it was forcefully clamped inside his chest. His breaths became heavier and straneous, as if something was taking a grip on his throat, he tried to ask, he tried to scream, he tried to call for help, but all he managed was a helpless yelp, as the darkness grew around him. It was then, as the first coin hit the wood of the table- a sound which sounded as loud as thunder in his head- that the darkness started to take form. Forms, actually. The darkness had forms.<br/><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/74/Shadowfiend.jpg)</div>These forms grew bodies, developed heads and limbs, though nothing about them seemed human, they were beyond deformed, they were the embodiment of sick mockery and demonic insanity. Their heads were raised behind every counter, their bodies emerging out of every dark alley, they grew in numbers and they were all heading for him. Verik's primal instincts said 'Run', His body said '<em><strong>Run</strong></em>!', his mind screamed '<em><strong>Run, you fool!</strong></em>'<br/><strong>Run<br/>Run!<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">RUN!</span> </strong><br/><br/>And so, without as much as a word to anyone around him, since they were all drowned in darkness anyway, Verik pulled all the strength his sudden illness left him and fled for his life.<br/><br/>That day, as the storm clouds gathered above the great capitol of New-Evergreen, mercilessly casting their lightning bolts and rains in every which direction, as the celebrators fled from shelter to shelter, gathering their younglings and covering their littler heads while hoping to find a dry seating in the next building. Verik, as we now know, was fleeing for an entirely different reason. He was fleeing his chasers.<br/>He could feel them; he could see them from the corners of his eyes: abominable shadow creatures, their bodies blackened as coal and their eyes were as hollow as old snake holes. They were dead on his heels, hurling their poisonous spears at his heels, sending their tridents at his back- trying to skewer him on their curved blades, to stab the flesh and tear it open. Verik's tortured body was poisoned by every spear and skewered on each trident, he could feel his weakened flesh getting hooked and butchered by the wicked steel, he could actually feel the corrosive poison coursing through his body, eating its way through his dying limbs, each rotting and melting away to a painful and blackened pulp, he was screaming with pain and boiling with fever, he drew his last breaths and immediately pulled back from death's loving arms for a renewed round of tortures. The fleeing merchant died a thousand deaths and there was nobody there to put an end to his misery.<br/><br/>Truth be told, there were a lot of people there, but in their eyes- all they could see was a madman running down the streets, screaming incoherently and spewing drunken nonsenses. Some of them actually tried to help him, but he couldn't be stopped, others quickly pulled their women and their young closer- fearing the unstableness of the moonstricken stranger.<br/><br/>Fortunately for him, and for the rest of the street dwellers, Verik wasn't long for the aimless running, as he finally reached his unplanned destination: one of New Evergreen's most frequented taverns, its name- 'The Starting Point', which was especially busy and crowded for the first day- and last- day of the celebrations, Humans, Elves, Dwarfs and other more exotic forigners enjoyed the warmth of the in, and all the joyful singing that mastered the great hall and the flavorful food, which kept emerging out of the kitchens. Merchants, common men, fighters and crafters all huddled around the same round tables, singing and laughing or trying to manage a conversation over or under the loud chaos.<br/>A band of mixed bards and a beautiful singer were standing on a lantern decorated stage across the hall, and the blond singer, Shira was her name, used her river-water clear and resonating voice to bring the winter cheer to the hearts of the tavern's patrons.<br/><br/>(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d1/Startingpoint.jpg)<br/>It was extremely crowded and loud indeed, with some people taking their lunches and ales standing, yet Verik did not pay any attention to them, nor did he hear the angry protests of those he had pushed aside. He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for, all he wanted was for the pain to stop, so he ran forward- practically blindly, and dove head first into the most relatively open table he could find. A nearby bar maiden widened her eyes and prayed to Cadria as she saw him collapsing over the table, his clothes drenched in sweat and his body shaking due to some sort of a feverish fit.<br/>One of the younger tavern maidens screamed as she noticed the collapsed man, and the singing suddenly stopped.<br/><br/>"Excuse me." Said the only visitor at that table, a cloaked figure, a pretty expensive cloak at that. He was young with curly locks of dark chocolate waves, addressing the older maiden that rushed in, "There seems to be a wet beggar in my soup."