My name is Vira, and I have done terrible things.

Of course, I've done my share of good. My share of good being a piddly little bit, but I'm not all bad. Of course those asses who write the history books always describe me as some ugly fallen angel, some greeneyed monster whose only mission in life is to drag others down with her. That is a load of bullcrap. I was never as nice as they make me seem before that bitch got to me. I was vain, and petty, and just about like any stereotypical prettygirl airheaded Acara they tell you about nowadays. I wasn't even making daisychains, I don't know who the hell made that up. I was looking for herbs, because my mom ran an apothecary. Anyone who says I was all rainbows and gumdrops is either a blind optimist or is trying to sell you something.

I'm not saying I was evil, that's not what I'm saying at all. Evil is a strong word, and I seriously hate it when jackasses throw the term around so freely. It's like the word awesome. Do you know what the word awesome means? I do. It comes from "awe", as in "shock and awe." Do you think awe means amazement? It doesn't. A closer word would be terror. So when subjects in a kingdom go crowing about how their leader is "awesome and mighty" in the storybooks, the really old storybooks, they're saying they're scared shitless of him, and that you should be too. As for "evil", it really hurts to be called evil. If I had a damn choice, do you think I'd be some recalcitrant sylph's bitch, handing out mirrors of misery like it's some holiday celebration?

Hell no. I just want to live somewhere quiet, maybe somewhere in Meridell, where I don't have to worry about assholes trying to beat me up in a Battledome fight. I'd just be like Ms. Prenderghast, living out my days of immortality while only moderately terrorizing other saps in this world we call Neopia. I just want to be at peace, okay? Do you ever have one of those days where you just want everyone else to leave you the hell alone? My entire life has been one of those days for the past few centuries. It's hard. It's hard and no one understands. I'm not going to go into a spiel, I promise I won't, but it just gets too much to take sometimes. It's just not easy knowing that everyone hates you, okay? That's all I'm saying.

So, I guess you're not going to leave me be until I spill my guts. You want to hear my story so bad? Then open those ears up wide, you're getting a goddamn earful. I was born in a tiny little town on the outskirts of Neopia Central, right smack dab on the halfway point between the outer reaches of the new city and the Haunted Woods. My hometown was called Hillview Village. There was no hill and there was no view. My dad was a trapper, a Lupe, and my mom was an Acara like me who ran an apothecary; like I mentioned. I learned how to make potions and poisons really quickly, and my dad taught me to protect myself with his hunting daggers.

As for the whole Haunted Woods deal, we got a lot of weird types from there, but they were pretty alright. Except for the occasional jackass that would raise hell in the local tavern or start chattering about their communion with the dark spirits, we got along swell. But I was always told to never get within less than a day's walking distance of the Haunted Woods. My dad once belted my ass so hard over getting too close to those inky black trees that I had blisters under my fur. It was a damn good thing my mom always had salves on hand, or I'd not have very much fun sitting for dinner on the cushion-less wood chair.

But one day, when I had gotten old enough to go out and collect herbs for her business, I got way too close to the woods. I heard someone talking to me, and they told me that they could make me truly beautiful. I don't know whether it was because of her magic or because I was really that much of a dumbass, but I ate that sales pitch up like hotcakes. So, I found the first mirror, and I think everyone knows about how it went after that.

Well, damn. It looks like it's gotten dark. You shouldn't head back out here. You were stupid enough coming out here in the daytime, you won't make it two steps out of my door at night. Lock it - All of the locks, dumbass, I have eyes. There are some bastards out here who scare me shitless. Guys who shouldn't exist. Guys who every Neopian should know about and fear. Three-Tongue Spencer, Wet-Haired Blythe, the Masqueraider...

Right. You wouldn't have heard of them. Well there's no reception for TV sets out here, and I don't want you touching my books, so I guess I can tell you the tales. I think I'll start with old Three-Tongue. He'll be good for scaring you out of coming back out here.

Sit your ass down, you're not leaving. You sat through my story and you'll sit through a few more goddammit. This might save your life someday.

So, right. The deal with Three-Tongue is...