The night goes by uneventfully. The caravan starts tearing down just before sunrise, the smell of falafel and hummus being prepared for breakfast wafts across the dry desert breeze. Each of you rises, the prayers to Narakaas, The Cleansing Sentence, already upon your lips before you leave your sleeping mats.

After washing and dressing into the battle regalia of your god, you exit your tents and step into the cool dawn of the morning. Last nights rain making the grasslands of the Field of the Dead squish underfoot. The smell of human waste mingles with that of the horses and oxen of the refugee caravan.

Dara can be seen walking among the refugees, helping with tasks and holding soft conversations as she does so.

The low rolling dunes of the desert shine brightly, beyond the oasis where the army camped. The light wind blowing sand from their tops, like clouds forming off the mountains in the far north. Today is a good day for battle.

Tomas is noticeably nervous around Brer and Jamrion, he keeps his distance as he helps Ippon with loading their wagon. Vasha, seemingly still in the same place she was last night watches over her unconscious husband.

Hastrine can be seen flirting with several of the caravan guards that survived the disappearance of Elturiel, a necklace of flowers around her neck looks out of place with her leathers and crossbow.

A gust of cool wind rustles the grasses and thin trees around you, a sure sign that today will be cool despite the warm temperatures the local predict. Not a bad morning to continue on to Baldur's Gate.

Pack any gear I pulled out, make way to Billiam tent and assist him.

So my good, sir.  were you able come up with anything.

Brer quickly packs his gear, the prospect of a coming battle putting a spring in his step, but...  Why would the refugee caravan travel into battle.    Watching Jamiron leave on his morning mission, Brer speaks to the others, “Have any of you felt...  conflicted about what we are here to do?  I feel uneasy and I can’t put a finger on it.”

Roscoe awakens completely refreshed after turning in early.  Gets a large portion of breakfast and walks up as Brer is talking.
"What do you mean?  We are getting these people to Baldur's Gate, correct?"

“Yes, but sometimes it feels like no.  Maybe I’m the only one...”

Jamrion, ignoring the shifting of reality around him, reaches Billiams tent as some of the refugees help tear it down, Billiam coughs instructions as they do.

Roscoe acquires a full bowl of the watery, unseasoned soup the caravan has been subsisting on, faint memories of falafel making the soup even less palatable.

Brer takes part in the bland breakfast, chewing on his thoughts of the morning.  “No one else feels conflicted?”

Stand by as it seems like the other refugees have the task well in hand.

Billiam stops instruction and just stares at Jamrion.

so my good sir did you come up with anything

Billiam raises an eyebrow, looks at the tent being disassembled, then looks back at Jamrion. He does this, slowly, a few more times before responding, "Yes." he starts to cough and goes back to instructing the men working on his tent.

Mouse wakes and dresses silently. He breaks down his tent and checks the simple traps he set up overnight near the caravan.