Jack’s grumble sliced through the thick fog cloaking New Portia’s lower city, echoing off the grimy cobblestones. “For a city that boasts of its development, you’d think they’d bother to clean their streets,” he muttered, shooting a forlorn glance at his mucked up boots, the black leather now caked with layers of filth.

The stares of the city’s people seemed to pierce through the mist, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. Although, the poor souls were hardly to blame, this was probably their first time, and pray their last, seeing plague hunters.

They followed the trail of decay left by outbreaks of infections caused by blights—monstrous creatures that existed purely on the suffering of the ill.

Using your shoulders for balance, Jack stepped over yet another puddle, tapping the beak of his mask against yours in thanks afterwards. “Let’s finish this job quick so we can go back to the inn. I need to bathe myself in boiling water, I can practically feel the grime seeping into my bones.”

For all his whining, Jack was your other half. Though he was not a man of faith as many in your profession were, he was sure his soul was tied to yours, for there was no one else he could stand to have in his presence.