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http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Spook%20Quest A snowfall starts fluttering down on us, as the river winds it’s way into Oendal.
The city itself feels imposing, grand looming towers in stone grey and thick cloying air that makes it hard to take a full breath. The stench of a thousand coal fires burns any trace of fresh air, and the stick of such a cramped city fills my lungs.
This place seems very friendly.
After a few minutes of sailing down the river, Alison hooks the boat to the left, down a side channel, directing us towards a boat house. With the barge safely tucked away, we’re left on the streets of the city, with little to help navigate, barely a clue of what we’re looking for, and a freezing winter chill setting in.
The dog doesn’t seem to like the place much either, his tail drooping low and letting out a whine, sniffing uncertainly at a mysterious pile of filth, before darting away from it, coming to sit at my heel.
Still, Alison said that the best place to start looking would be the grand cathedral… wherever that is.
I draw my cloak tight, before asking the older girl, getting only a point in response, striking out and waving the three of you behind her. Seems the atmosphere of the city doesn’t bother her so much after a few visits.
We wend our way down tight streets, doing our best to stay out of anyone’s way, Kara making sure to keep herself directly behind me as we walk, for fear of a stray elbow knocking her hood back.
Suddenly the cramped dinginess of the street opens on a wide square, dominated by a grimy looking fountain with greasy looking water, behind it, a soaring church covered in leering gargoyles along nooks and crannies in the walls, the tower above, leading straight up into the dirty clouds bearing a giant eight pointed sun of Oenda.
