Off the beaten-path is a road winding around a hill, across a plain and through a forest, ending in a small town. A town of old buildings and no history. A town of quiet, sinister madness. A town where people wear masks and become their true selves, free of the pressure that is normally restricting their spirit. It is unfortunate that the true self of many men, if not every man, is evil in the full sense of the word.
It could be the grey. It could be the dull interior, the dying trees and the cast-iron tools which break the serenity of thought at every turn. It emphasises the sense that something sinister is stalking me in every shadow. Yet, there’s always nothing, which aggravates more than soothes my troubled mind. I would rather live in a place of colour, troubled by reality than exist in a monochrome limbo haunted by imagination.
Harmony can be broken by the slightest intrusion. The finest piece of music can include one disconnected sound and people will only remember that break in flow. So it was that the town Elfinnes had its own discord sewn into its history. A time of madness and murder, planned and crafted by a troublesome individual. An individual who reveled in the madness of his creation, a man of chaos; the Trickster.