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SUMMARY: A tale of woe which doesn't end well for the protagonist. Not a very happy story, this. Shy away from it if you enjoy Walt Disney. Oh, and if you wouldn't mind, feedback me.

Awk pushed his way through a crowd of dirty farmers in a hurried effort to leave the even dirtier tavern behind. He found it amazing that the place had managed to continuously assault all five of his senses every minute he spent under its sagging roof, though the smell was worst. It was almost tangible in its awfulness and stubbornly clung to his clothes, skin, and the insides of his nostrils, a putrid mélange of vomit, urine, and smoke that permeated every nook and cranny of the common room.

Reaching the unsurprisingly greasy door he footed it open, smudging his boot in the process. With great effort he ignored the muck and stepped into the slightly cleaner alleyway beyond, a testament to how bad the tavern actually was. Little had changed in the hour or so he had spent within, seeking the counsel of the eccentric and annoying diviner Veethe, though he did notice that the mewing, emaciated cat which he had passed upon entering the establishment now lay dead of starvation in a pile of refuse. Flies swarmed the corpse, nesting in its matted fur, until a street urchin chased them off with her grimy hands, grabbed hold of it, and headed back the way she had come, probably to dinner. The sight disgusted Awk and he turned his body and thoughts toward the mouth of the alley and the cleaner, brighter street beyond, grateful to be finished with his business in this city and eager for the rolling hills beyond its squat walls.

His first step nearer to fresh air and sunlight landed his clean foot squarely in a puddle of some foul, unidentifiable liquid, and not for the first time today did he curse Veethe and his choice of meeting places. This was by and far the most revolting and unsavory locale he had ever visited and the sight of his boots, one smeared with grease and the other stinking wet, made him hate it all the more. He had half a mind to head back inside and throttle the little gnome but the figure that suddenly stood not five feet from him commanded his attention and he knew the blame lay not with the seer.

She appeared to him as She always did, lithe and hard, waist-length jet hair standing in stark contrast to Her alabaster skin. A dark cloak hid Her body beneath its inky folds and a wicked smile stood bold upon Her black velvet lips. The milky orbs She used for eyes belied the true subject of Her scrutiny, though Awk knew it to be him, for no one else could see Her. She was the goddess of luck, mischief, and pain, come down from the heavens to play amongst the mortals, to torture him. She was beauty incarnate. She teased and toyed with him. She occupied his thoughts every day and every night. Her name was Beiory, and he hated Her with a passion profane enough to make the vilest of murderers blush.

Awk stared at Her, his rage mounting. He knew not why She hadn't followed him to his meeting inside and he really did not care. Her fickleness would be Her downfall, and would make his victory that much sweeter. Such reinforcing thoughts helped to calm him.

"What are you scheming, my pet?"

Awk ignored the query and moved to step past Her but She held up a slender hand.