It was good that the dragon flew off. Obviously it was looking for something. It had to be something important or it would have not even been in the area. It had to do with the other beasts coming from the south, but what would even make a dragon come this close to the coast? Whatever it was, at this point in her life she was better of telling people with possible power to deal with such things than figure it out herself.

She notes the gnomes are not settling down well, but they manage to go to sleep. On the other hand Orst was now snoring loud enough to be splitting the load of rocks in the wagon. She can't do a watch with that racket, so steps outside and makes sure the horses have properly settled. She finds the horses far easier to talk to and pet than Regis' dogs. Then again she had had to hit the poor dogs so she could find Regis in the first place. She smirks at the thought and feels better herself.

By the time her watch is over she is ready for sleep and does so without issues, even with the snoring, once the next person is definitely up and on duty.

Bullden is definitely glad that ordeal is over because he doubts a rag tag group as this would have survived a battle with a wyrm.  In the morning he quickly eats breakfast and moves into getting camp torn down to move out.  No sense in hanging around to temp faint with a dragon.

Zina attempted to help Bullden take down the tent, although her small form made it difficult for her to be of much use. Still, the illusionist was stronger than she looked, as years of lugging heavy tomes up flights of stairs had left her far from weak. "I can't believe they slept through a farjin dragon flyin' overhead," the gnome grumbled under her breath.

The rest of the night passes without significant incident, though strange sounds fill the night. At one point, most everyone is awakened (except Orst, of course) by the nearby howling of a pack of wolves.

Rorn and Roe wake with the sun to cook breakfast. Orst rouses at precisely smell-of-bacon-o'clock and partakes of at least a pound of the salty meat all on his own, using his trouser legs to wipe the grease from his fingers.

"Join us," Orst says. "There's plenty and to spare!"

Anyone with a stomach for eggs, potatoes, and sourdough, all fried in a heavy layer of bacon fat, is welcome to their fill.

Portia is awake at dawn and while the boys do the cooking, she is off a little ways praying and doing a ritual to Lathander as the sun rises. Once the sun is fully above the low horizon, she checks out the food choice and decides to go with a ration of nuts and dried fruits. She munches on these and drinks some water as she works on packing up everything that was in the tent and getting it stowed for this day's travels. She then gives some help to the taking down of the tent while breakfast is being cleaned up.

The fun part would be getting the twelve horses hitched to the wagon. She helps make sure the horses are properly fed and follows along learning how to hitch them to the wagon.

Pettilaen looks squeamishly at the "feast" the dwarves have prepared. Whispering to Zina in Gnommish, he says, "No wonder why they're as big as they are... and oily." He shudders at how their bowel systems still operate. More so out of politeness, Pettilaen flashes a half-smile before grabbing some sourdough bread. "Yeah! This looks super... yummy! You must make the missus proud, Orst." He raises the bread in a semi-toast as he says it, before taking a bite from it. It actually tasted pretty good, even though it was a food Pettilaen was not accustomed to. Why couldn't they be elves? The food would make their pompous attitude tolerable. Reaching out, he connects with Gaia, seeing how she's doing with her morning hunt. Quite successful, it would seem. A thought pops into his head, and he smiles mischievously. Moving over to the boys food, he flicks his hand and whispers a simple incantation, chilling their steaming eggs until they are cold. Somehow, he is able to hold in the chuckle from his devious prank.

Kanon Taliman
LN - Bard - College of Lore - Servant of Oghma

"No wonder why they're as big as they are... and oily," Pettilaen whispered to her, causing Zina to giggle. The other gnome clearly did not hold a grudge, as the two now appeared thick as thieves. 

"I'll bet you a silver piece I can out-eat you," the illusionist waggled her eyebrows, still speaking in gnommish. It was easy for her to fall into her native tongue, and refreshing to get to speak it so often. Zina would gladly take every opportunity she had to speak in gmommish, and it didn't hurt that it always seemed to make Bullden suspicious that they were planning something.

(Ignore the character behind the spoiler link!)

After breakfast is finished and the dwarves have had their fill, the group gets under way for another day of travel. The night's rainfall has left the air fresh and cool, making for a pleasant several miles until the sun breaks free from the clouds and it heats up again.

A little after noon, Rorn and Roe dig into a crate behind the driver's bench and remove a few bundles of wax paper. They dig into the bundles with greedy fingers, removing salt meats and wrapped cheeses as well as a selection of berry tarts.

"Lunchtime!" Orst calls out in a sing-song voice, reaching behind the bench to retrieve a fresh bottle of spirit. "A sip for me, a sip for ye. Another sip? Indubitably!"

As they're eating, the cart nears a large stone marking the 40 mile mark north of Beregost. A young man with auburn hair sits with his back propped against the stone. He appears to be writing or drawing something with a bit of charcoal.

"Heyo, traveler!" Orst calls out, waving a hand in greeting. "May the dust never settle on yer feet!"

The man waves back with a subtle smile, but just as his eyes drop back toward the page, they shoot back up again. His brow furrows in confusion as his eyes meet Portia's...

The weather is perfect and Kanon's mind has been wondering to the texts he carries in his lockbox. Instead of continuing the journey with this feeling of wonder nagging at the back of his mind, he's decided to take a break. He has spent nearly two years in Candlekeep exploring the halls, and it's far past time to return to Baldur's Gate. In Beregost he met an interesting person that, after a few glasses of wine, told the most fascinating stories. He was able to recall details from texts that Kanon could only dream about! Perching himself against a rock, Kanon decided to take this time to draw the woman that the man had focused many of his stories on. She seemed a wonder... and as Kanon drew her based on the man's description, he wondered if he'd ever meet the woman.

Kanon's eyes light up when they meet Portia's and he stands up quickly, "Portia Starflower! By the Gods I can't believe this!" He bounds atop the stone for a better look, then looks back to his paper and back to Portia, then back to his paper. "Malark described you perfectly!" He turns the paper to the group as they pass and it's a eerily perfect portrait of Portia drawn in charcoal.

At first she is taken aback by the stranger knowing her name and then starts laughing when he mentions Malark. "Ah, I see you managed to find him out having a drink or a few. He tends to do that now and then. Seeing as you know me, pray tell what is your name?"

She moves closer to look at his drawing and nods her head in approval as she takes in all the details.

Kanon's face starts to turn red as she approaches and finds interest in the portrait, "Well it was all just out of memory... and I never met you in person, as you already know!" He giggles nervously, "So I had to improvise on some details... and I... ummm, do you want it?" He offers the portrait to Portia, "I didn't think I'd meet you on the roads... I didn't think I'd ever meet you!" At this point Kanon stumbles off the rock to hand her the portrait. 

"I'm Kanon," he averts his eyes as they meet hers, "Kanon Taliman. I'm returning to Baldur's Gate after my studies in Candlekeep. Its been years!"

He notices the cart begin to pass, "If it's ok, I wouldn't mind travelling with your group if you're headed to the city. 'Safety in numbers,' as sage Turanack would always say!" He brushes his hair back with his hand, "I can pay in stories and song..." 

Portia takes the portrait. "For only description by Malark, this is a fine job." She carefully rolls it up and puts it in her scroll case.

"We are headed there and decided to give Orst a bit of a bodyguard. You are welcome to join us." She lowers her voice. "I could use something that might stop Orst from talking about rocks and whatever else, or maybe not talking at all for like five minutes." She chuckles before leading him into the midst of their little expedition.

He gets introduced to everyone as they continue moving along. She does not warn him about the gnomes because... well, who knows what they will do next.

"Lunchtime!" Orst calls out to the group. Pettilaen thinks about what the dwarves would consider lunch. He mutters to himself in Gnommish, "Lamb's leg with a lot of salt, and washed down with some ale would be my guess..." Making his way over, he looks for the free food as he hears Orst singing, "A sip for me, a sip for ye. Another sip? Indubitably!" Chuckling to himself, he turns to Zina, whispering in Gnommish, "Called it. He'll probably be passed out before the sun sets." Huh. Orst is a pretty good lyrical composer. Maybe the spirits loosen his tongue? Or his appetite betrays his intellect. Seeing the food, he is pleasantly surprised to find that they have berry tarts. "Ah! Now that is something I am familiar with." He grabs two to compliment the gnommish rations he has stowed away in his backpack, making sure to give his pleases and thank yous. Tossing some nuts up in the air, Gaia swoops down and snatches them from the air, causing Pettilaen to smile. She'd been a constant companion, keeping him happy while literally showing him the world through a new set of eyes. He couldn't ever think of trading her out for some other animal. The thoughts seemed to comfort Gaia, as she swooped in and landed on his shoulder, digging his head into the cradle of his neck and shoulder, cuddling him. He stroked her head as they continued their way down the path.

A short while after, just as Pettilaen finished his lunch, he could hear chatter coming from the far side of the wagon. Portia seemed to be talking with some man... Stealthily, he approaches, hugging the wagon until he gets a better view. There he was. A red-headed human, holding a perfect portrait of Portia. Speaking with Gaia mentally, he says "What is this guy? Some sort of creep?" She lets out a loud shriek in agreement, sounding like a dinosaur from the jungles of Chult, and consequently giving away their position. The shriek brings Kanon's attention towards them, where he sees a tanned gnome, who's head barely peaks over the wagon's wheel. Golden-blonde hair with streaks of auburn are swept back from his face, with matching chin stubble. His large eyes, pale-blue like the midday sky, widen as you make eye contact with him, and he can only give you a sheepish smile. "Heh.... uh... Gaia likes meeting new people. That was her saying hello!" He moves out from behind the wagon, extending his tiny gnome hand. "The name's Pettilaen, from the Brookebrewer family just outside of Baldur's Gate. You've probably had our mead before if you're from the area."

Zina's jaw fell open upon sight of the stranger. She was not one to trust random people who appeared on the side of the road with exquisite portraits of certain elves. The illusionist quite liked Portia, and did not want to see some weirdo wearing her skin like a suit. "Staaaalker," she said in a sing-song voice, in gnommish of course. She didn't want the stranger to know what she thought just yet. 

The scholar watched the exchange between Portia and her stalker like a halk, looking for any signs of possible skin-stealing tendencies. She somehow managed to stay mostly quiet, that was, until the human invited himself along.

"Woah, woah, woah," Zina hopped off the wagon and stood between the human and half-elf. "Stranger, let me explain. We... don't... know... you," the gnome crossed her arms across her chest, looking up at the human. "And... we... don't... know... if... we... can... trust... you." She turned back to her cleric, no longer attempting to draw out her words. "Portia, some picture of you is not enough to let this guy join us. If anything, it's creepy."

"My father and I have had many a tankard of your family's brew!" Kannon says with a laugh. He is just about to reach out and shake Pettilaen's hand when another gnome jumps in-between them. Kanon's eyes go wide as she berates him and he takes a step back tripping over the boulder behind him and falling flat on his back.

"I didn't mean to offend," he says as he puts a hand up. "Her father sent me on an errand to deliver some arcane texts to Neiklot in the city, and I thought it would be safer travelling in a group." 

Portia cracks up further. "He's okay, he doesn't know everything. And well, he did let a gnome make him trip over a boulder." She throws a wink to Zina. "I think he'll stay on our good side and well if he is carrying something for Malark, we best make sure he delivers it appropriately. Though I will be having some chatting to do when I return to Beregost." She laughs again as she holds out a hand to Kanon. "I do have ideas of how to deal with you if you do prove to be a stalker." Her grin has a devious slant to it.

"Yes ma'am... er no ma'am." He accepts the assistance and looks over to Zina, "I swear I'm not a stalker." As he stands he makes a point to dust off his cloak. "I really don't want to intrude. If I'm not welcome, I can continue the journey to the city on my own." You can tell he's intimidated by Zina. He knows a practitioner of the arcane when he sees one, and he's met plenty of bullies in Candlekeep that like to show off their powers. 

He picks up his bag and straps it on, "Though having company would be nice..." he says.  

Orst's head cranes around.

"It's my cart," he says, "and the lad stays. Old Orst's got an eye for folk, and this is a fine one. Good bearing, honest eyes, and he's on business for Neiklot - as well respected as they come in the Gate!"

He takes a long belt of whiskey, then nods his head as if it serves as punctuation.

"Stay. We don't bite that hard." Portia laughs again. "The worse is a bit of frostiness or soiled pants. Both easy to fix. Shall we?" She walks off and mounts her horse.

She would let Kanon sort himself out with the gnomes. Orst had only slowed the wagon, not that it was speedy to begin with due to the conversation with the man. She trotted back up near the front. She would make sure he got to Neiklot with his package which if she figured out his babbling correctly was sent by Malark. One never knew what Malark could be dabbling in. Sure he was a priest of Lathander, but he loved his arcana, too! It was something she never got a knack for no matter how much he tried.

In dwarvish, "I have no issues with him. He might find the gnomes interesting. Maybe he'll sing a song or tell a tale." She grins at the dwarf though she has a hankering to find a pond to wash him in, and his clothes!