The backstreets of the city are no where near as bust as the main, the height of the buildings almost crowds out the light and the win slightly howls between the walls. There are few people walking about these roads, some people lurk in the darker of corners, dressed head to toe in thick black clothing, only their eyes can be seen under the large brimmed hats of which they wear.
Now and then a howl of pain can be heard echoing in and out of the walls, reverberating all around your body and echoing though your head. Some of the doors look shabby and knocked in, and at times, laughter and the sound of smashing bottles can be heard once more.
The sky above look a bright blue however the depth of these warren like streets blocked out most of the sun still, even in the middle of the day. The sand beneath your feet crunches and sifts lightly past your toes, the sound of chatter can be heard from behind you as a group of what appear to be wolf type beast-kin quickly pass you by as you lightly step out of the way, they pay little attention to you and just move on, still talking to each other in slightly loud tones.
The people dressed in back slowly almost drift away into the back of one of the houses and close the door behind them, leaving you in the street on your own, with nothing but the wind and the howls to keep you company.
As you move on into the street you can rad the signs on the back of the doors, they mostly Led down into the cellars of the shops and taverns. One of the doors read "Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again" and underneath that it read "Lukania was 'ere 506"
There was nothing of use at first glance down the street and eventually they led back once again onto the main market.