It was that time of year again, the signs were everywhere, cheery faces smiling, an abundance of joyful song, and the fresh scent of pine. Winter’s Veil was upon Azeroth once again. Millagis glared at the horrid holiday that everyone had made for themselves, his anger for the holiday still burning from far before he had awoken from the grave. As far back as he could remember he loathed the holiday. As a member of the living, he had locked himself up in his house, drew the curtains, and plopped himself into his arm chair before the fire to read a book. The Spirit of Winter Veil had long since fled from his soul.

I must stop Winter Veil from coming… With or without a jaw, I must spread so much sadness that they record my name in the annals of time as “The Man Who Ruined Winter’s Veil”! For every cheery, happy, joyous face; an insult! For every brightly shining ornament; a dark glare! For every festive feast; an icy spell to ruin the food! And, for every gift…

Millagis let loose a gargling and sickening laughter as he peered out over the canals of the Undercity, his hands rubbing together instinctively, caressing and petting his newly formed plan, as his laugh seemed to darken the shadows.

Yes, for every gift given; they’ll receive a far better “present” from me!