A drunken Elven kingdom , ruled by a “’Wise’ King’’, who had won his rulership through a poker game long ago, is visited by a random Dwarven caravan, there to trade wares wares ale. Said kingdom was degraded by the kings hand, the lands peace shattered through drunken debauchery and general foolishness by the corrupted denizens. The populous were weak minded through ale, and the Dwarves recognized this as a precious chance to spite their racial rivals. The leader of the caravan offered a devilish deal to the Elvish Lord; a game of poker for a quarter of the treasure in their vault if the Dwarves won, and the entire caravan line to be his personal slaves if otherwise, as collateral.

And so the games begun - It was filled with many exciting twists and heart-stopping curls of fate. The Dwarven leader was a conniving player, going all in with a single suggestion; if the King lost, his kingdom was forfeit. And in trade, his beautiful daughters’ hand in marriage to the lords bachelor son. Obviously this was turned down. Unknown to either party, a powerful witch was waiting in the crowd, magnetized by the drunken depravity the city offered. There she watched as the Elven king utilized powerful illusion magic to flip his losing hand into a winning one, overturning his inevitable defeat, and obtaining a large party of Dwarves as his kingdoms person slaves. She was not amused with seeing her favored spell bastardized, and quickly put a plan together in vengeance.

Just as wasted as the denizens around her, and enriched with the idea of cheating the king for the sake of irony/entertainment, this witch cast her own powerful illusion magic... On both the prince of the lands, and the caravan leaders daughter. From there, a passionate night would become a lifetime of marriage, as they brought a lumpy princess into the world. The king would be forced to watch as his lineage was defiled, being the only one capable of seeing through the twisted illusion, and knowing this; to bring up its horrible consequences would be to shatter his reputation, making the secession of his kingdom a royal joke.

However, five years of merriment went by fast, and every beginning has its end. With the caravan otherwise indisposed with cleaning the toilets and pipes of their new Elven overlords, the drunken witch would find the kingdom now lacked a supply line for further spirits. On a warm summers night, she would write a single simple letter to the prince and princess, dispelling her illusion, and disappearing into the trees, swimming in a dizzy haze. Feeling frisky, the elf father wanders to his beloveds chambers... Only to find it occupied by a dwarf!

In his drunken rage, he savagely stabs the intruder to death, not knowing the difference of gender between Dwarves in his mad state. Sobered by the act of violence, he comes to find the note... Given that it was written swiftly and simply, he comes to believe that, instead of the reality of the situation, an evil witch had simply changed his lovers appearance -into- a dwarf, and that he had thus stabbed his bride! Overcome with mighty anguish and sorrow, the wayward prince steals his bloody blade into his own heart, knowing neither the truth.. Nor of his daughters watchful gaze from the crack of the residence door.

Unfazed and fed up with the general whacky shenanigans of the estate, the lumpy young princess whisks into the night at full sprint, determined never to visit the awful kingdom ever again. On her way past the river path, she would bump into the wobbly witch at full tilt, who was going through her own woozy flight. However, just before the crooked spellcaster could be shoved into the drink below - As fitting a death as any - She would find herself saved by her own grotesque creation, the vile happenstance of her evil rascality. Having a sudden feeling of remorse for her hand in the Dwelfs’ conception, she offers the young girl a magical mask, to hide her hideous features - And the address to the home of a certain rouge… The foundation to a future the princess would not have otherwise held.