Beneath the churning grey sky, the children followed their grandfather into the brick canyons outside the dwarven pub. The falling mist had soaked the discolored buildings, cracked sidewalks and had placed a slippery film over the cobblestone street.
Across the intersection from the old pub stood a massive church. Stains of the city had worked their fingers up the Italian revival's brick, carved marble, and once polished white. Only the simple cross at its pinnacle sat in stubborn defiance of the world dying around. Somehow, in all the darkness, it's white polish kept this little street with an old dwarfish pub on the corner safe from an infinite night.
"Wow," Ania whispered, with an artist's excitement. She raised her hand over her eyes to shield them from the needle-like rain drops to admire the church's architecture.
"Welcome lass. Our church be St. Augustine's Church…his order of monks keeps watch over this place.” Corth's voice held an air of pride. "We have rooms in the rectory in back. I'll show yeh yer rooms a bit later. But, let's go see how yer mum's doing."