"I did not tell you to not cast spells. I told you not to cast them at party members wrongly. I'm mad at you because you tried to coerce Zina into talking with you by using a spell instead of just trying to talk to her and she is a very free spirit. I know you wanted to help, but well...." Portia wiped tears from her eyes. "You are a bard so use your charisma, not spells to get people to talk to you unless it is some evil bugger that won't see reason. I am not sure what I have at the moment, but you have that for sure."

"Blah, blah, blah, we need to fix this." Was all he heard from Kanon's mouth. "Fix this? You sure as hell do! You're the one that's making it worse! And what do you know?! You're hardly eighteen! I'm almost three times as old as you are!" Deep down, Pettilaen knew Kanon spoke some truth. Why can't he just let things fix themselves?

Storming off, he leans against the wall, maybe fifteen feet away from Zina. "They're pissing me off just as much as they've pissed you off. Why can't people just leave us alone and let us do our own individual thing?" He sighed, not really expecting an answer from Zina, and shifted his attentions to Gaia, who took flight and landed on the wall above them. He wondered what the forest looked like on the inside.

OOC: 21 on Perception from Gaia.

"I'm not mad at you," Zina used message, so Pettilaen was the only one able to hear her words. "Your parents annoyed me to no end, but I get it. I'm sure if I brought you home to my father, he would have embarrassed me in the same way." The gnome used her shirt sleeve to wipe away her tears.

"I'm upset because no one is seeing me," she admitted after a long silence. "Your parents saw me as a potential belonging for you, nothing more. Kanon saw me as something malleable he could control so he could learn the latest gossip, and Portia treated me like a petulant child."

Portia watches Pettilaen storm off.

"I've been with them longer than you and I don't even know how to deal with them at times. There is far more to all of us than what happened the night we stayed in Baldur's Gate. All of this goes far deeper than any of us knows because honestly, most of us have not told everything about ourselves. That is fine. We don't have to. We all deal with things differently. I'm coming to the conclusion my sheltered life did not even come close to making me ready to show light to a dark world. How do you beat back dark if you don't even understand it?"

She sighed. "I'm rambling and just want to be left alone now, too. Maybe I'll figure it out when the dawn comes. I'm done trying to fix things that actually don't need fixing by me."

She picked up her bedroll and shook it furiously in an attempt to put it back in some sorts to crawl back into. 

"I'm upset because no one is seeing me," she admitted after a long silence. "Your parents saw me as a potential belonging for you, nothing more. Kanon saw me as something malleable he could control so he could learn the latest gossip, and Portia treated me like a petulant child." Pettilaen's mind went blank, confused. That's what she got from what he did?

Female feelings. He'd never really understood them, but knew their feelings were delicate. He remembered a piece of advice he got from a savvy swashbuckler he met in the Gate several years ago. "Women either want to vent to you, or they want your opinion on something. The trick is finding out which one it is they want. I've learned that you're always safe to assume they're venting until they say otherwise."

Praise Tymora for your infinite wisdom, Inigo. Without Inigo's words, Pettilaen probably would've joked about how it's just her height, and she just needed to grow taller for people to see her. He nodded, processing what she said, coupled with his advice. Eventually, he responded, using Minor Illusion to play a whispered message next to her ear. He didn't know whatever spell she cast, and would have to ask her about it later. "It's dumb when people don't see us for who we are." That's about all he felt safe saying at the moment.

"Message works both ways, if you just whisper back only I will hear it," Zina smiled. "If you want to go back, you can tell them I'll be alright here. I'll probably come back soon. My dad always taught me to step away from people I was fighting and breathe, rather than attacking them... I got into a lot of fist fights as a kid." She laughed, a memory of a balding gnome patching up a skinned knee replaying in her mind. "This is me trying to do that. I'll apologize in the morning, but I'm not ready now."

Well this has been an eventful watch. He smiles internally when he sees Petti and Zina in the distance. Best to leave them at it, he figured. Sitting by the fire, he re-strings his lute and begins to play very softly. Softly enough so as to not to disturb anyone...

He completely misjudged Portia. He thought he knew her based on what her father had told him, and he even felt like he could understand the way she thinks from Lathander's teachings and the stories he's heard. But to give up and stay in Beregost? That was not the person he thought she was. He continues his watch while playing the soft melody, and takes the advice everyone seems to have been giving him. He'll just stay out of all of their affairs...

Pettilaen returns a few minutes after leaving, having calmed down. Whatever their conversation was, it seemed to had on effect on both of their spirits. Seeing their veiled attempts at curiosity, Pettilaen chuckles. "She'll be fine," answering their unspoken questions. "We might even get an apology out of her later. She just needed to step away and breath, rather than get angrier and get into a fight with one of us."

"But I'm getting tired, and my watch is going to come up on me all too quickly. I'll cover her watch as well, so she can get some sleep," he offers, before moving towards his bedroll he had prepared. Gaia swoops in and nestles with him, eager for some cuddling time. Ponypusher fell asleep a long time ago.

"Whatever issues you all have with each other, the people of the plains always taught me that a little time and silence are a balm on tough situations. I advise you all to sleep, as it is my watch. Those who want to stay away should do so in silence, else I sleep, for there is no point in a noisy watch. I hope I have not spoken out of turn..." Zeratto says this with his back turned to the group, unsure of where his place in the situation is, but he is hopeful that it will pass, and the next day will be full of more pleasant interactions.

"People of the plains?" The elf was pretty silent, but his mention on a tidbit of background intrigued him. "Who exactly are you, Zeratto? What's your story?"

Pettilaen is met only with silence and the back of the elf, so he decides to just go to sleep before his shift.

Portia manages to go to sleep and actually not have a lot of bad dreams before her turn on the last watch. She'll be doing a lot of thinking and praying in that time while pacing around the camp waiting for dawn to come.

The night is especially quiet. Even the worgs in the wood are silent. It's comforting not to be haunted by the plaintive howls of those deadly beasts, but the question can't be too far from your minds - why are they so quiet this night?

Some of you sleep better than others, but the time passes for all, and eventually the sky is lightening and turning pink on the eastern horizon. The pinkness eventually turns crimson as a rare, cool "blood sun" dominates the early morning.

-----

After a quick and quiet breakfast, the cart is rigged and the group is traveling south again, though you haven't gotten far by the time you see an especially large and unusual caravan approaching from the south - dozens of small carts and ponies laden with household goods and children. It appears to be a column of weary families, probably from Beregost by the looks of them. In front, a man with thick muscles leads a Breton mare pulling a large, flat trailer full of cooper's tools and equipment. His coppery hair and beard is disheveled and he appears as if he hasn't slept in days.

Kanon slides off his horse and wraps the bridle to a post on Orst's cart. He's smiling brightly as he pulls his lute from his pack.

Walking past the man he goes straight to the children and begins to play a quick and rhythmic tune as he dances around the carts. One by one he invites the children down to join him as he dances. In a time of strife, he's learned it is best to occupy the mind with the joys of life rather than the horrors of death. Kannon will let the others deal with the news... if he cannot help his own friends, he'll help the poor children that have suffered.  

The people's faces are so sad, was one of the few thoughts that came to Pettilaen's head. When he realized that the Terror of Beregost (the elusive butterfly) was probably dead, that nearly sent him over the edge.

In an attempt to stop the cooper and put a smile on his face, he asks, "Hey! What's with all of Beregost leaving? Is there some festival we didn't hear about?"

The cooper locks eyes with you.

"Didn't you hear, friend?" He says, his voice grave and sad. "Beregost was attacked. The temple was especially hard hit. We beat them back, but they'll return. That town has become unlivable."

Kanon continues going from cart to cart, now with children dancing and playing. He gives each a glowing stone as they approach, asking them their favorite color and enchanting each stone. Everything he touches glows; a cart here, a saddle there, an anvil, a cage with a pigeon. The children laugh as he attempt to juggle a few of the stones, failing miserably. He keeps pace with the others as he does this, a smile never leaving his face and the lute forever playing. Occasionally he sings of the opportunity that Baldur's Gate holds, the chance of new adventures, and a life of happiness.

He will continue this performance until the very last cart passes Orst's wagon.

Portia hears what the cooper says and starts riding along the long line of people for anyone she knows or any others from the temple to find out the full details. Her thoughts go to Malark wondering if he was still alive. Anyone in the group heading north would know she is from the Song of the Morning by her tabard. She is worried by what she might find out, but likes how Kanon is entertaining the children. 

She finds a few she vaguely knows and falls in line with them to talk. "I was up north, but I know things were getting weird around Beregost and I even heard a dragon over these woods a few days go. Not trying to alarm you about that, but last night was quiet, too quiet in comparison. I think you will get to Baldur's Gate okay.

"What details can you give me of the temple and do any of you know how Malark is doing?" 

She realizes she is gripping the reins tight enough to annoy her mount. She eases up and shakes out her hands before giving the horse a reassuring pat on her neck.

Portia learns that the temple was sacked and razed by a hobgoblin chieftain and his cohorts. They were apparently looking for something, but didn't seem to find it. The surviving priests, of which Malark is one, left Beregost to take refuge in Candlekeep.

When Portia gets the details she is fuming. By the time the refugees travel by, she calms some and manages to hook up with the rest of the group, including Kanon who had been entertaining the children the whole time. Though her agitation has her horse dancing around some as speaks.

"Beregost was definitely overrun by a hobgoblin chieftain leading a strong enough group to actually sack and raze the Song of the Morning. People are fleeing north or heading to Candlekeep. The only good news is it appears they did not find what they were looking for, though no one knows what it was, and I know Malark still lives."

She shifted on her horse. "Looks like we are heading into a far more dangerous predicament than when we left. I remember the attacking force of goblins and half-ogres appeared to come from the south. Hopefully those going west to Candlekeep make it."

Atop Flamingmane, Pettilaen listened intently to the conversation between the lowly temple-boy and the almighty-motheress, Portia. "Hobgoblins?" he asks quizzically. "Are you sure they weren't half-ogres? Because we already know that some of those have been showing up around this part." The thought of hobgoblins worried Pettilaen. He knew they were smart, and tactically-minded, which meant that they would prove much more difficult than the bands of goblins and kobolds they'd been hunting a few weeks ago.

"But if they are hobgoblins, then we have a serious issue on our hands." Not directed at anyone in particular, he asks, "What were they looking for, and why did they think the temple had it? And why did they come from wherever?" In Gnommish, he asks his final question, directed at his allies, "And do we help them?"