A band of men had hailed a trip to Arilia via boat, dressed differently, but all armed, they could quite easily of taken command of the ship themselves, but they were peaceful, there even seemed to be a hierarchy among them, with one of the older men seeming to act as their leader.
Some complained of the rocking of the boat quietly to eachother. In the night, only lanterns lit the boat it, the darkness about them almost palpable.
When will we arrive on Arilia, Captain Harkon?
However, they weren't addressing the vessel's captain, likely to the ship crew's confusion, but the head-honcho of this rag-tag group
Patience, comrades. the shores of this land will surely benefit us much more than back home, there will be no more lashings or whippings, no more penal service for minor slip-ups.
We will hopefully live doing what we do best, and in a peaceful way in which you will never receive baubles and trinkets, paid for in blood, but paid for in dutiful service. On that note, be merry! life will be good from now on, I swear upon the Star of Saradomin! be merry!
The group then cheered, and began to dig into the rations they were assigned, their spirits alight like the fire of a torch, dissuading the darkness looming darkness around them. Harkon slipped away to talk to the actual captain of the vessal at the head of the ship
We owe you a great debt for letting us be ferried to Arilia, are you sure the manual labour is enough? you've treated us well and I'd hate to do you a disservice
The captain waggled his index, refusing the extra money
You've done good by us by helping with the labour, the quicker we can set sail again, the more coin we make, and for that I'm grateful, consider saving me time as such payment
They both looked into the darkness ahead, awaiting daybreak to show the shores of Arilia in the distance in what seemed to be an endless landscape of water.
An apologetically, unofficial representative for World 42
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