Soulcors stalked through the alleyway, his scythe on his back. He looked around, his burning eyes taking in the sights. He had been in this town for a few weeks now, and had yet to find employment. He tightened his disguise, a tall cloak and mask that hid his true nature, and set out into the city to try to find employment. Surely there was someone who wouldn't chase him out of their business with a holy symbol or flask of blessed waters. There has to be someone who understands in the city. They can't all be heartless, can they?