A whistle blew, and the crew returned from their stay of silence. The Jubilance was coming into port, and her crew made short work of getting the vessel's mooring cables dockside. The deck rocked back and forth gently as the ropes were drawn around the bollards, and then came to a final rest with the ship hugged up against the pier. The officer from before returned from the ship's aft, tailed by the captain. He didn't look the part, a young man with a messy head of white hair. In all truth, it wasn't the size of vessel he was used to skippering but that was what crews were for. There was a gold rush in the making, and his borrowed ship would be at its head. Without a word, the captain took up his scripted position at the front of the ship to watch the Pomrians conduct their disembarking procedure. The officer left his side, rejoining his two comrades at the side of the vessel. The dock workers had run up the gangplank and it was now fastened at the railing. Almost as soon as it'd been brought out the line began to form, those in a hurry to get off the ship. Some lingered, searching for a group. The woman from the Corps stayed even as the other two went to find a rowboat out to another ship, taking out a small pad from the pouch at her hip and preparing to take the tally of people on board as they departed. Slowly, the line began to move.

Among the visitors caught out in the middle of the deck, unsure of where to find his spot in line or who to look towards, a man with a boyish, energetic face wandered. His dress made him seem more likely a part of the crew, being obviously aged and well worn clothing. A loose, tan shirt over black working pants, both of which continued to function as clothing on the virtue of expert patchwork. It was made to seem decorative even though it existed for sheer necessity, with patterned hems and clever placement. Worn elbows became the elbow pads of an older man's shirt. The only undamaged thing on his person was a brown canvas bag he wore over his left shoulder and currently held fast to his person with his right hand. The pockets along its side made it reminiscent of a doctor's bag, which it was to some extent. The man found himself caught out, looking nervously between the few similarly stuck stragglers on deck as he found himself between a tall man in a blue coat and someone obscured in a black cloak. The latter toppled to the ground, seeming to bang her head against the railing. He froze and looked back to the other stranger, looking for some kind of cue. Did these adventurer types just help each other out or was that disrespectful? A tiny part of him pleaded the red headed man to act first, but even still he began to gravitate towards the unfortunate traveler.