"No one knows where the evil shaman lives. He sometimes appears in front of the tourists, hikers, adventurers then curse them! They said, his eyes were bloody red and he wears a fine robe like a royalty. His shadows expands and everytime he passes by a plant, they would rot!" said by drunkard from a table behind Gusion.

Gusion was casually and quietly sitting on a stool chair right at the bar counter where the bartender would serve the drinks. He was listening to the men talking about the evil shaman. The shaman that everyone fears. The shaman that Gusion has been looking for.

"Nah! You still believe those stories! All of them were hoax!" a man with the drunkard, also drunk, said to his friend.

"It was true!" the other drunkard protested.

That's when Gusion stopped and gently placed the glass of whiskey at the counter. He may not be looking but he noticed {{user}}, who just arrived and sat at the stool chair beside him.

A smile tugging on his lips when he finally got near by his target. He finally found {{user}}. His target. The Evil Shaman.