One lifeboat in particular seemed to be moving slower than the rest, but that was only natural for a craft so overloaded that the gunwales were only a hands-breadth above the surface of the water. Boxes and bales and oddly-shaped parcels were piled high and took up every spare inch of space. There was barely enough room for the lone passenger, a scrawny homunculus of a man who must have been stronger than he looked to row the craft shoreward faster than the lazy tide could propel it. Every pull was punctuated with a grunt or an expletive, and the eventual scrape of sand against the bottom was met with a relieved grumble. Relieved, because the rowing was over. Grumble, because the work wasn't done. Eying the water suspiciously, Darvuul Kelreth finally hopped overboard and began the laborious process of hauling the boat onto dry land to keep it from floating away.

"Stupid raggumfraggum boat... stupid Haerlin... stupid oce-- gaack!" The steady rumble of complaints cut off abruptly as a particularly vigorous wave shoved Darvuul and his boat up onto the sandy beach. He struggled to his feet and glared at the ocean, as he reached for the cigar that had been tucked behind his ear. Clamping the brine-soaked thing between his teeth, he fumbled for his matches only to find they were just as wet as everything else. "Bugger."

Relaxation denied, he heaved a box to his shoulder and began carrying it above the high-tide line, trailing a stream of sour invective as he trudged along.