"A fine day to arrive!" Galen heard, and a few more pleasantries back and forth.

He sat up from the back of the cart he was resting in and rubbed his face. It seemed he wouldn't be getting good sleep today, after all. All the blasted worrying from his little treachery was still eating at him, after all. He grabbed his ax and shield, hung his ax on his belt and strapped the other to his arm.

Standing up in the cart, he made his way to the back and stepped off.

"About damned time we got 'ere," the half-drow began, before spitting on the ground to his side, "I've 'ad enough of these damned roads. They're bumpier 'an a three copper whore, and not nearly as pretty."

His crude complaints voiced, he proceeded to grab his walking stick from the back of the cart, and make his way to the outside of the caravan. He figured he might as well get ready to crack the skulls of anyone dumb enough to attack a group this large.