Madling, Person that lost their mind when too close to a rift or mutated by the artifact of a rift
Plague Watchers, cult members that close rifts to other dimensions
The Gendarmerie, Magister-Prime’s justice syndicate
There is one good thing about another plague rift opening: Profit.
The gas mask that hid my face, shielded me from catching anything that leapt out of these plague rifts.
I didn't have much time. Not much longer. The Plague Watchers would soon arrive.
Pray to their stupid gods.
I cut the artifact out of the corpse's dusty chest.
A scavenger who stood too close to the rifts without any protection.
Like me he scavenged rift artifacts.
Unlucky bastard seemed to have caught a parasitic one.
Probably something that warped the body.
Turned you into a living nightmare.
Of course I wouldn't end up like this loser.
I mean I did wear my mask.
And I was smart, wasn't I?
You should know I wasn't a heartless monster.
Just venal since I was an eight year old scamp.
My fault when I lived in a destroyed, gassy country with bad food?
My fault when my parents turned into a dealer and a crackwhore both respectively?
My fault when those bastards pimped out my sister, and I needed the money for both my looks and to buy her free?
I put the oval-shaped artifact into my bag and rummaged through the grey, infertile soil.
Maybe there were more artifacts.
I looked around the simple, grey and square buildings — most of them new and as bland as the people living in there.
The Plague Watchers weren't there yet.
I sighed in relief as I stood up.
Looked at the small rift just a few steps before me.
Something bright in this godforsaken grey town.
I let out a cackling laugh.
That's what they called me.
Both my miserable parents and my sis.
And now probably you too.
I looked around again, and saw a limping pariah kneeling in front of one of those grey, square buildings the Magister-Prime loved to force on us common folk.
Poor lad probably wanted some coin.
And as I was feeling euphoric today, coin he got.
I walked over to the guy.
Felt the dust below my shoes frisss-frissing.
As I saw he lacked half of it, I held back a pained grunt.
I opened the pariah’s fist with my gloved fingers and put a coin in it.
Maybe it was just another scavenger.
I hid behind one of those grey buildings and panted.
Not far away from me there was a paved way.
It was dusty and cracked like most of those in Old Sanimur.
They all lead to Exaltis where I lived.
An isle haven that smelled like piss and rot and things worse.
This was where my family lived.
Where my sister was pimped out by some guy called Smitty.
Where I sold those stupid rift artifacts in the black market, and where my favorite whorehouse was.
Mind you I didn't visit it yet — too much of a coward.
Women scared me, you see.
How much they endured, without backing out.
Just the pariah still bowing as if he prayed to God.
I wonder if maybe he actually did.
Maybe he did pray to the God’s the Plague Watchers worshiped.
According to rumors they did grant wishes after all.
But something bothered me.
The man didn't move anymore.
And behind him there was a cloaked figure in a shako.
Another one stepped into the light.
One of them walked over to the pariah and booped him with his foot.
The pariah instantly fell to the side.
The Gendarmerie shot him.
They aimed for me and shot him instead.
Bear in mind, this wasn't unusual.
The Magister-Prime and his Gendarmerie wouldn't let any dirty scav pick up those artifacts.
In this time casualties didn't matter.
Not when the Plague Watchers were faster than the officials.
Not since the first rift appeared a good eighty years ago.
To them, the lad was just another dirty poor swine destined to die.
They probably shot him by accident.
They wouldn't be as soft with me if they found me.
Knew I was the dirty scav.
Wait till they went away?
Climb onto those straight-lined balconies?
My scattered mind made me unable to decide.
There were too many possibilities.
And if I was something it was indecisive.
Indecision would get me killed.
I sucked in a breath, forced my shaking hands to still.
The rift pulsed, its eerie white glow humming in my peripheral vision.
Harmless when nothing leaped out of it, sure—but maybe useful still.
I grabbed a stone from the cracked pavement, its rough edges digging into my palm. With a flick of my wrist, I sent it sailing straight into the rift.
The moment it hit, the air shivered. A high-pitched keening echoed out, like metal scraping against bone.
The light in the rift flickered, warped, then snapped back to its normal state.
Both gendarmes turned. One barked something I couldn’t hear over the blood pounding in my ears. The other took a cautious step toward the rift, weapon raised.
I ducked low and slipped around the side of the grey building.
Boots crunched behind me. Not close—yet.
One of the four sides of the building was smooth and useless.
The other had a drainpipe, rusted at the joints but still bolted in place.
Above that, a ventilation gride—half-crushed, bent outward just enough to hold my weight.
One foot on the drainpipe. Fingers gripped the edges of the gride. A deep breath—then I pulled myself up.
The metal groaned beneath me.
Sweat trickled down my back.
I kept climbing, boots scraping for footholds.
Fingers caught the cold railing of a level-one balcony.
I swung myself over just as a voice rang out below.
I pressed my back against the wall, heart hammering. I didn’t dare look down.
But they wouldn’t stop searching.
And I still had to get out of this alive.
Needed to reach Exaltis in this ugly as fuck town.
