<span class="mu-s">Ambiance</span>
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u73l0yMy4WU”Show us a view of the area,” instructed the Sadist.
The scout saluted at the command given by the voices in its head and began to look for the stairs.
After a little search and a slight scare when one of the steps gave away, the goblin made it to the next level of the build.
The hallway containing the staircase had a small, badly rusted sign in it saying: “Loriander Orphanage“.
Evidentially, the building was made up off three floors. A ground floor, a first floor, and an attic.
The attic contained something less of a window and more like a hole in the wall.
The goblin poked its head outside, tested the sturdiness of the wall, and skittered outside like a roach.
A pair of buildings stood next to the orphanage, the three of them surrounded by a wall, but no gate.
There was some evidence that there had might once been a gate, but scrap iron fetches a fairly decent price.
The current building was likely the dorms, the place were the orphans would eat and sleep.
Whatever the other two contained was anyone’s guess, but one of the buildings had a pulley system attached the front.
It was raining quite heavily. The goblin took in its surroundings, it was definitely a more run down area of the city.
The buildings were close-set, the streets in-between them mostly ones that have been walked into existence.
A dog barked in the distance, hoping to be let inside.
At the end of the street was a large building with an orange glow betraying the presence of the warmth inside.
People could be seen moving in and out of the place, the sounds of merrymaking could be heard even here.
The kind of public joy that would likely result in a noise complaint. One that nobody would bother doing anything about.
The occasional shop could be seen along that same street, their signs swaying in the breeze that accompanied the rain.
Although the distance made it hard to make out their names, the pictures on the signs didn’t seem to want to cling to the same sense of mystery: a butcher, a general goods store, and something to do with money.
A sturdy looking gentleman sat outside that last one, wearing a cloak that tried and failed to shelter him from the rain.
The people that possessed skill in words and digits in a place like this was probably directly correlated to the amount of meals they had in a day.
