You walk down the street and turn North, heading towards the temple.
The smell of fresh rain is thick in the air, cooling the entire city off. The cobbles under your feet steaming as the rain began to evaporate in the hot sub tropical climate.
You turn the corner and you can see the huge sandstone temple ahead on the left. Huge and massive, the steeple has a sort of nautical crow's nest as a large set of shields hand from chains. On each shield can be seen a golden gauntlet, the symbol of Torm. People mill around the front of the temple, and as you get closer, you see clerics and priests handing out food and provisions to those downtrodden souls. You are still about a hundred feet from the steps of the temple but you can see the area around the temple itself is clean. and I don't mean clear of litter or garbage, but the sandstone has been washed on the sides of the temple, and the cobbles in front of the temple almost seem to shine, from the numerous washings and scrubbings. It shows the devotion the priests and those loyal to Torm take care for their church.
You have the strange feeling you are being watched...Ever since leaving the Inn. There are eyes upon you...but from where you cannot see.