Clint could see traffic starting to thin out. Though there was a bit of a gathering outside a windowed shop with the sign over head “Danthelon's Dancing Axe.” Foot traffic diverted and branched off to the store. Clint stopped to peer in seeing dull and shiny armor on mannequins. The left mannequin was dressed in studded brigandine leather armor with a cloak, on the right was a shorter set of spiked armor made for someone not of his stature. What caught his eyes was a set of full-plated steel a little dinged and scratched up, but Clint's reflection in the glass seemed to fit in the armor.

Clint looked at the price tag and pats his light coin bag. ‘Not quite there yet, someday’ Clint thinks then walks off.

Finally off the bridge he sees a mish-mash of races and also religious depictions, statues, shrines, garb, and accessories. The biggest 3 statues were to Umberlee, Tymora, and Gond. The faith of good and evil mixed here in a quiet truce. The ways of the coin and industry, more important for now it seemed.

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Though that coin didn't touch the wretched that sat the streets here. With up held palms and cups. Lining the streets and some walking in staggered groups towards the east leading to the steps of a temple. Outside the temple were monks and robed priests behind steaming tall pots handing ladles of piping gruel to out stretched trembling vessels and a piece of bread.

Clint couldn't imagine being in a situation requiring living solely on the grace of others without looking to improve his own station in life. His father would raise himself from the grave to just give him a whooping.

Clint dropped a few coins into the alms box in passing to the north. He had a destination in mind and was feeling motivated to pick up the pace.

A monolith engraved with a pair of female eyes surrounded by seven silver stars at his back.