"Hmm, I'm not sure what and where I'll be for the evening. I really have no need of going to a temple. I'm open to whatever for the evening as long as it is something wholesome."

She shrugs a bit and would even sleep in the warehouse for that matter. It made no difference to her.

Kanon tries a tankard of the dwarven ale with Orst before he sets off to visit his family. The taste is strong and the alcohol hits him pretty hard, but he's glad to have shared it with the group before he leaves. Assuring them all that he'll be back to the warehouse first thing in the morning, Kanon departs.

Zina weighed her options for a moment. On one hand, going back to Pettilaen's place would probably make her more homesick. On the other, a home cooked meal would be wonderful. "Does your family make good stuffed mushrooms?" She asked hopefully. "I'll come, but only if you promise to tell me what happened on your little adventure."

Portia settles down to drink and ale with Orst. She watches as Kanon shares a drink before heading home. She smiles noting that both gnomes would probably be sleeping over at Pettilaen's family home. That left her with the barbarian elf, Zeratto, and the dwarves. She found no issues with that. She made sure the horse and ponies were properly settled before returning to relax with the dwarves. She didn't want to 'unload' too much with Orst so that she could be ready in the morning. Her tankard did empty, but far slower than Orst's.

Pettilaen smiled at Zina's bargaining. He knew she would come regardless of if he told her what happened on their little adventure, but he wasn't able to try and push her away. "By the luck of Mr. Glittergold! That sounds fabulous. I'll make sure they make some stuffed mushrooms. And I love telling stories!" He grabs her by the arm and pulls her away from the group. "My adventure requires a bit of a backstory... It all started a few years ago, when I was walking through the Sharptooth Forest and came across this feral elf... raised by wolves." The two of them walk off, heading towards the East Gate.

"There is no way you met an elf who was literally raised by wolves," Zina rolled her eyes. "Come on! I want to know where you found the Great Zeratto, and what happens when you keep running off without us."

Back at Orst's warehouse, Orst has Roe and Bullden build in a fire in the cobbled yard where carts and wagons gather to depart. As he lifts the tankard to his lips and lets the sweet, thick ale trickle past his tongue and down his throat, he taps his foot and hums to the same funeral rhythm that Kanon originally began for Rorn.

When Orst's humming stops, about the time Bullden completes the last of the work to prepare Orst's small cart for the morning, Bullden comes across the yard to address Roe.

"Boss," he says, acknowledging Portia with a nod of the head, then turning his eyes back to Roe. "I think I'll head to an inn and see what I can do about living accommodations. No offense, but I've got a lot to do to settle into the Gate on a permanent basis."

Orst laughs and slaps his knee. "Boss! Oh, that's a good one. My silly boy Roe a boss..." He pauses, his voice trailing off a bit. "True enough, though, I suppose - but not quite yet, because I'm still here."

Orst digs at his huge belly to get to his belt, retrieving a sizable pouch of trading gems and throwing it to Bullden.

"There's a signing bonus," Orst bellows, benevolent and bold. "I expect Roe to work his new partner hard, but at the end of a decade ye'll be a wealthy man. It's not poverty that's made Old Orst so fat and happy!"

Roe spews dark ale onto Bullden as he breaks into raucous laughter with his mouth full. Bullden makes no reaction until he looks into the pouch, at which point his eyes widen and he smiles broadly, an expression Portia isn't sure she's ever seen on his face. With a look of mixed elation, wonder, and respect, he does a quick bow to Orst, Roe, then Portia, and departs.

"He's a good and honest dwarf," Orst says. "I'm glad he's staying on to assist my boy. Together they're sure to become Masters of the Gate."

Each of you pass the night in your own way, and soon enough it's morning...

The sky is gray and overcast as you gather at Orst's to depart south.

"Anyone who hasn't claimed a horse or pony from the yard should take care of that," Orst says as he climbs into the driver's bench on his small cart, which visibly bends under his weight. "This trusty thing is sturdy and well made, but only large enough for myself and my things."

He shifts his weight and does a final check of all his important things.

"Oh, and make sure ye're well equipped for all circumstances. It's a long road to Athkatla and we'll be riding through some rough areas. I hear Beregost is nigh overrun since we've left it, so I'm expecting we'll meet some trouble as well."

With that, he pops his tongue and whistles, sending his 2-horse team forward into the street.

"I've got a few last things to tend to before I leave the Gate forever." He pauses, throwing a glance at Roe. "Whoever's going with me should be at the merchant's gate by noon or ye'll have to catch up after!"

The light in the sky slowly diminishes as Kanon approaches the location of his family's home. The Candlekeep Chandlery, a shop owned by Marcela Idhra, was a bit of a hallmark of Baldur's Gate. She sold candles that were infused with the soul of a fire mephit. When candles were prepared, the fire mephit would memorize every word spoken during its creation process. Some would record wills, others would record words of love to play back during the buyer's wedding. Some of the more popular ones were narratives and songs and music played by the family of entertainers that lived in Marcela's basement. Kanon's family...

Once a member of The College of the Herald, Kanon's father had been close friends with Marcela during their time in Candlekeep. Due to Marcela's experiments they were both kicked out of the keep, but Marcela was able to create this amazing invention that served well as a means of passing on messages for the Flaming Fist and even the various guilds throughout the Gate. Because of this, Marcela amassed a lot of wealth and her business flourished. Now his family lives in her basement and helps spread knowledge through the use of her candles. Whether in song or story, their candles are able to weave a tale anywhere in Faerun. 

His father often told him that he needed to create his own story while at the same time preserving and sharing the knowledge that has been written in book. His stint at Candlekeep was merely one stage in that process, and his father was more than happy to watch his son leave to create his own story the very next morning.

Upon hearing Orst proclaim that he'd meet them all back at the Merchant's gate, Kanon asks, "Does anyone need to find a specific shop? I'd be more than happy to show you the best place for your wares. I've got a few things I need to get for myself as well." He seems happy, as if a great weight has been lifted from him. This indeed felt like the beginning of his adventure. He climbs atop his freshly brushed horse, a grin spread across his face, and says, "First stop... breakfast!"  

Zeratto makes sure to claim a horse and get ready to depart with his companions. He keeps a close eye on them all and makes sure that the horses are in good shape before leaving. 

He keeps an eye on the path, and is ever wary, for Zeratto senses something is amiss.

Pettilaen returns with Zina early in the morning, entering amidst those within the warehouse. There's an odd silence between the two, only further alluded to by the lack of eye contact between them, and the good gap of distance they keep between themselves.  Gaia flies from Pettilaen's shoulder, and rests on the back of Merrymane. Those two seemed to get along just fine. Probably because they can't get married.

"Does anyone need to find a specific shop? I'd be more than happy to show you the best place for your wares. I've got a few things I need to get for myself as well." Kanon was in a good mood, and Pettilaen certainly wanted to be. "First stop... breakfast!"

"Breakfast?" he says, forcing a smile. "That sounds wonderful! I don't need to purchase any supplies, but breakfast sure does sound good." Reaching for his coin purse, he almost forgot how light it was. "Oh yeah..." Turning to Portia, he asks, "Portia? Can I get the secret package back I told you to keep safe? My coin purse is feeling particularly light, and they want their friends back."

"Oh, your coins want friends," Zina glared at Pettilaen. "I didn't realize it was possible for two coins to be just friends."

The gnome mounted her pony, who was just as temperamental as she. It took her four tries, but she was determined d'arvit. Eventually, she was victorious. "Now, where to for breakfast?" She asked Kanon, gripping onto the reigns for dear life. 

Portia chuckles as she pulls out Pettilaen's coin purse and hands it to him. She makes no comments about the distance between the two gnomes, though something had definitely happened with the overnight stay at Pettilaen's family home. The gnomes had an interesting relationship that she really couldn't figure out, anyway. This just added to it.

"I am ready for a good breakfast before we hit the road on a long trip. There is not much I need for it."

She pats her horse that she has ridden since leaving the Song of the Morning to head north from Beregost. It appeared that their true adventures had nothing to do with a pirate that had a large enough bounty on his head, that he had to sail far away to not be found, like a place with far more golden genasi.

She easily swings into the saddle, but after the mishap of trying to ride through a copse of trees to avoid a fight to try to save the dwarven brothers, she really needed to think about the value of learning how to handle animals better.

"The Hungry Ogre! Tildra Fiddle will have a fresh batch of pastries at this time... some of them even have bits of bacon and ham in them. She usually has about a dozen different kinds to choose from!" Kanon spurs his horse forward and leads the group to The Hungry Ogre.

Portia did not argue about that choice and followed Kanon along wondering what she would actually chose to eat there. She would probably do whatever the party decided to do for the time they had before meeting Orst at noon.

As Zina tried to get on the pony, Pettilaen was puzzled. Why is she getting on the pony? Does she thi... "Now, where to for breakfast?" D'arvit. She wanted to join them for breakfast. Last night's dinner was already awkward enough, and he didn't want to have to go through anything like unto it. It's not that he hated her or anything... "Oh. Umm.... I'm actually not hungry. I'll just meet the rest of you at the gate." Pettilaen gets on his pony, Lilywind, the first try, and trots off in the opposite direction the group was headed absent-mindedly, sending him back to the warehouse. Muttering something to himself, he quickly turns and takes a different road.

After a comforting breakfast, the group travels to the merchant's gate to catch up with Orst and begin the long journey to Amn. When Orst sees you all, he waves and calls out.

"Heyo," he cries. "I've had some news from Beregost. Things aren't looking good between Candlekeep and Nashkell. Half-ogres, orcs, goblins, and more I hear. There's even tell of a dragon ranging from the Cloud Peaks, though it doesn't sound like he's attacked anything major yet."

Orst shakes his head and lets out a low whistle.

"Don't wanna be on the wrong end of one of those, let me tell you. They're feisty... I'm thinking we set out for Candlekeep to start, then assess the journey from there. If we need to hire a boat from there to Athkatla to ensure our safety, so be it."

He shrugs and leads his cart toward the queue to exit, motioning for everyone to follow him.

As expected, the first day and evening outside the Gate are drizzly but they progress smoothly. Plenty of travelers about ensures the safety of numbers and few threats would dare anger the Flaming Fist by striking so close to their power base.

Nerves begin to tighten midway through the second day, however, as the Cloakwood comes into view. Everyone but Zerrato remembers this stretch of road clearly and the familiar sights bring back all of the mournful feelings for Orst's lost son, Rorn. Underneath it all, as well, there's the fear that more forest creatures could attack... That battle is not something anyone desires to repeat.

As the tall trees of the Cloakwood once again shroud the road in shadow, the mood has turned tense and dour. Tonight's camp will see precious little rest from those who've taken this road before.

The past two days had eased the awkwardness and tension between Pettilaen and Zina. They spoke little, and still sat on opposite sides of the campfire, but minor pranks and tricks were being played on each other, and that was a good sign to whatever happened to them at Pettilaen's house that night was slowly slipping away from both of their minds.

"I hate the Cloakwood." Pettilaen grumbled. "Always have, always will. The place gives me the creepers. We should've just taken a boat straight from the Gate to Amn. It would've been cheaper, and probably safer." That said, he was much more prepared for any coming conflict now, having had the opportunity to practice his swordplay and deepen his studying of magic. He'd even created a rudimentary style of arcane fighting, which he called the Dazzlespazzle, and he was a dazzlespazzler: one who could meld the form of fighting with his rapier and the art of magic into a graceful, yet chaotic, dance. He was eager to test it out on real figures, and not just minor illusions, but it still didn't leave him with any desire to get into a fight. He'd almost died, twice, last time he was by this wretched forest.

Portia remained quiet most of the trip to this point. She did not like the cloakwood at all and just a few days ago the events had just made it worse. At least she did not have to worry about Orst's son being along to run off like he had with this brother the last time. She set about helping get the camp ready for the night. A night she would not do any heavy sleeping in despite managing to sleep most anywhere she was. If she never saw an elfataur thingy again, all the better!