Sort of a prequel to Asylums.
They said that when you tampered with one's soul, or one's conscience, you were given a first-class ticket to the inferno down below. Of course, most mad, crazed old men liked to shout that, and no one actually gave a damn what they said. Unless, of course, you were losing your mind just like them, and people had been known to start rumors that their brain dripped out of their ears, creating a distinct smell of a small animal's feces and urine, which didn't help them much.
However, no one cared to pay attention to them. Only the ones who had the time to pay attention to such nonsense, and, my friend, few people had that luxury. Not even the poor townsfolk could do such a thing, and few of them even had enough money to support themselves.
From what most could digest; however, a human's conscience could not, under any circumstances, be played with like a child's weathered toy. It was like a law, but one that had not been officially written down. It was exactly like a law, most would argue, but this law had a loophole. No human's conscience could be tampered with. Not beast. So, in his mind, he would get off Scott-free, and hopefully make a name for himself and earn some money. After all, everyone liked a new idea to get rid of stupid, worthless pests, right?
The man was dragging himself around the village again, begging for money that would go to support him and his wife. Apparently, she was pregnant, but most people used that to earn a little extra money. Most of the men even looked too disgusting to marry. That, of course, was his own personal opinion, but even he wished more people would listen to it. He would rather live in a village where young, gorgeous people lived. Not old, crippled hags.
The man knelt next to him. His eyes were filled with pain. Endless pain. He wore torn farmer's clothing and boots that were about to fall apart. He was definitely not of wealth.
"Please, I'm begging you-"
"Yes, yes, I realized that." the other replied, staring absentmindedly at the woods around them. "Now, peasant, I have work to attend to if you would be so kind to get out of my way."
"Please, sir. You certainly have money to spa-""I do not, now leave my sight!" He spat in his face for good measure. "This filthy place would be a palace of royalty without the likes of you."