Late to bed, Late to rise ...

Finally rising at quarter past eleven, Gurkirat spares the smallest of minutes to roll up his bedroll and fasten it to his back. Good thing I have so much practice at roughin it, he thought. Thinking back to the quake earlier, he does some quick calculations to estimate where the epicenter was. "Great!" Gurkirat says to no one in particular, "I was hoping to make some quick coin in Baldur's Gate." Knowing what he did about ground-heaves, which was be based entirely on an old tome in the library, Baldur's Gate was going to be very damaged by this heave.

This is no place for a bard, Gurkirat thought. I better make myself scarce. So for the rest of the day Gurkirat avoided all people, especially the pitiful, moaning ones. He made it all day but his constant hiding and sneaking about caused him to make very poor progress toward the city, and the bridge to the south of the city was as far as he managed before night arrived. Gurkirat would have continued on in the dark anyway, but he was forced to stop at the river for another reason. Where the bridge was supposed to be was now just a river and a jumble of logs. Shit. Casting around in the dark, Gurkirat spotted a little halfling curled up next to a tree with a small bedroll next to his head. Gurkirat's first thought was to flee but he couldn't resist his natural kinship for smaller folk such as himself. So instead of finding his own camp, he lit a small fire, cooked dinner, and bedded down across the fire from his new found companion.