"The only sure thing about luck is that it will change."
— Anonymous
19 Arodus, Toilday. The light, breezy morning has now progressed into a very warm afternoon with overcast skies, though judging from the lack of heaviness and humidity in the air, it doesn't feel like there would be rain.
Stepping out of the Temple of Brigh, Keshka pass several of her fellow acolytes busy cutting some lumber and assembling them into what could likely become carts in the near future.
Determined to get to the Foundry Tavern, she hangs a left on Temple Street. Rounding her way toward North Bridge, she comes up upon a group of six hauling some metal wreck, with a young blonde woman near the back complaining up a storm about how every cart and wagon in the whole town is tied up.