In a tavern in the crowded port city of Zolem, Eastern Seppora, an elf sits on the counter requesting for more booze. Half-alive due to drunkenness and reeking of the stench of alcohol and maybe if one sniffed deeper, pain and sorrow. Yes this was one sorrowful elf as he had done the unimaginable. This elf who's name was Ilkrig from Nordur in the north of Seppora was a broken man and he came to this tavern every single day to drink himself to oblivion. "Oi, ye piece o' shit…" said the barkeeper in the seaside Zolem accent, "…you haven't missed a day in me tavern in over a year, yeh?". "One of these days, ye'll drink the whole of Zolem's booze stash dry and I'll have no more to give to other of me customers". "…Oi shut up and pour me another cup bozo" replied Ilkrig in drunken stupor.Ilkrig is, or maybe you can say "was" a death-merchant. The death-mercahants are a small force of specially trained assassins who nobles used to settle scores once and for all. They helped start and end f