You walk down the streets, passing into the city proper. The road that leads into the city from the east turning into the cities Main Boulevard. The rain has cut down the foot traffic for the time being, but even now there are many people out and about their business. Most give your group looks of fear, some send looks of respectful awe, but all then move to a far side of the 20ft wide cobbled roadway. One man, riding a horse, actually smacks his head into a sign lightly, as he is looking at you as he passes going east.
The buildings you pass are mostly made of wood, many seem to have been recently re-lacquered or tarred, for the more cheaply maintained buildings. Only a very few buildings are of stone, and of those that are, several are taller than buildings tend to be, some having their roofs 30-40ft above their base.
The acrid stench of the city wears on your sense of smell, until, finally, you acclimate, and no longer notice it... as much.
After 23 minutes pass walking down the boulevard. The rain has lightened to a fine mist of a sprinkle. You notice that one such very large stone building is marked as 2350. The buildings around it, mostly wood, are marked as 2340, 2360, and on the other side of the street, the buildings, with signs out front denoting them a printing shop, a mason, and a cobbler and shoemaker, are marked 3340, 3350, and 3360. In between each of the buildings, however, there are small walking paths, not even quite large enough to be called alleys.
Using basic sense, you decide to walk down the walkway between the buildings marked 2350, and 2360. At its end, is a small wooden building, not quite 20ft to a side, nor even 12ft tall, including its rotting paper-based shingle roof. Already there is another man here, having stepped into the walkway just recently enough for you to have seen him do so.
In response to his knock, a woman, opens the door slightly after just a few moments. The woman is an elderly one, grey hair, which might be silver if it were better kept, tied above a wrinkled face. She looks out in silence, looking at both the man who knocked, as well as those now finishing their walk up the path. Despite the unusual appearance of those before her, she doesn't seem to react much at all. Looking out from deadened eyes, upon a deadened face, she simply speaks:
"Oh, hello. Can I help you? Or are you here to help me?" Her head starts to drift down...
"Such odd people, in these times."She picks her head up sharply,
"My name is Shaera Yanques. So, What can I do for you?"
