"The Gear is mine!" a man draped in a linen cloth woke up in a secluded alleyway.
He laughed shamelessly as the foul smell of corpses drifted from his body.
Saron was originally an undertaker for the church. Every early morning, he would push a wheelbarrow on the streets of the city up until dusk collecting any corpses he could see.
This job was disgusting, and even dangerous to a certain degree, but for someone born with a facial abnormality like him, this was already the best possible job. There was no shortage of unemployed people more than willing to replace him.
And it was from one of the corpses he collected on the job that he obtained his opportunity.
