Ober II

Even the hardest of us need a break from time to time.

The smell of salt water and fish, comforting to some, offensive to most. The prime marker of being close to Oakland Wharf. A port city like no other, sprawling and climbing across the landscape. Almost as if a living thing, crept from out of the night. There the torches danced along the high walls of the wharf — often mistaken for else beast or other- the slums, clung to the outer shell of the Oakland wharf like a sickened vine to oak. Some thought the walls a reaction to the slums, growing higher as the slums grew thicker.This shithole of a town was, fortunately, or unfortunately, home to Over Maitre Dubria’d. 
They stopped just as the city came into view through the rolling hills of the Frosted Marshes. The snow crunched beneath their feet as they stepped out of the traveling cart. Sowyn pulled his coat tighter about him and cursed the weather.

“I’ll never get slagging used to this weather. Two bloody years and it never gets any slagging warmer here.” he moaned

Kehtz laughed at him, “D…