In November, the death screams of life joy are fading into the victory songs of winter. The air is grey, low clouds are weighing heavily on the back, bottomless mud is smothering all hopes - the nature is committing suicide. The coming winter brings along murderous frost, buries all the living under a white shroud of death and declares an eternal night. On these evenings, Nightonians are drinking hard, accompanied by grief and angst. The people become shadows, their scarce words sound like the howls of wolves, their souls turn into an abysmal slough and hearts become the graves of compassion... Such is the life in Nightonia, and such are the Nightonians. Such are also Gates and Mantas, the quondam crew members of the flak_n_roll attack boat Loits, and their bastard son Sorts.