I’ve been ’round these parts a long while. Never seen so much life in Shrine Town. New folk chatterin’ ’bout credits and Monoliths, thinkin’ these Wastes be like the rest, that they’ll waltz through and claim their creds. Heh… listen t’ me, lad. The Ghost Sands… they ain’t like the other Wastes. Them stones, them Monoliths—somethin’ off ’bout ’em, makes me skin crawl. Even worse, Nomads seem tied t’ ’em somehow. Guardin’ ’em? Seekin’ somethin’? Nobody rightly knows. All for sure's the Nomads ain’t too keen on folk muckin’ ’bout them stones. Heard tell o’ entire squat-minin’ expeditions disappearin’ just fer diggin’ too close t’ a Monolith.

Ye think that’s all? Hah! These ain’t yer common raiders. Got a rider with ’em like none I’ve ever heard o’—a kind what’d scare even a Corpse Grinder… call him the Reaper. They say ye know he’s comin’ before ye even see him. The sky blackens, churnin’ with ash that turns the sand to a bitin’, black tide—nothin’ natural ’bout it. The air grows thick, heavy as oil, pressin’ down on yer chest, smotherin’ the sound o’ everythin’. The Black Gale… it don’t just blow, it crawls, twistin’ and watchin’, pressin’ close, almost conscious, as if the Wastes itself were reachin’ for ye. Folk say it warps the mind—makes ye see shadows where none exist, hear whispers in the silence, feel the weight of somethin’ movin’ just behind yer back. And then… the Reaper comes. They say he don’t just take yer life—he takes somethin’ deeper. Seen scavvies crawl back from the Ghost Wastes after a black storm… flesh intact, aye, but hollow eyes. A ramblin’ mind. Dead men walkin’, I tell ye. Seems like they’ve had their souls ripped from ’em. Hard t’ say who’s worse off, them or the dead.

I’ve kept me distance from them Monoliths all me days, and that’s why I’m still breathin’. Best take the same advice, or ye won’t last a cycle. But I spy that fire in yer eye… ye ain’t done listenin’ t’ a word I just said, have ye? Well, go chase yer creds, then. Just be keepin’ yer wits ’bout ye when the Black Gale comes.

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