Bjoric's mood was soured by the goblins presence. He wanted nothing more than to run the filth off, but since everyone else seemed indifferent to its being on the wagon he resigned to keeping an eye on it. 

As he sat quietly in the wagon he overheard the drows story and was drawn to memories of his ancestral home. "Tis a hard thing, leaving ones home. Even willingly." sighing, he shook himself of the memories before he was drawn in too deep. 

Feeling the beginnings of sleep trying to take hold he hoped out the side of the cart, deciding to remain awake since people were already beginning to dose off. His armour lightly clanging as walk with the slow pace of the cart.