The ferryman blinked at how so many passengers had appeared on his humble, raft. "All right, then!" he exclaimed, hastily picking up the sacks of coin before any of these Purge refugees suddenly changed their mind about paying him. Come to think of it, he was glad that a few of them had--no matter what he'd said to the Bard. "Hail to all, and call me Oleg. I'm a Northman." He stood up and began to row, but quickly realized that he had way too much weight on board and not enough momentum! "There are a couple more steering poles aboard," he announced. "I'm strong, but not infallible. Two more--row!"
Per'dra rose up immediately, since she was one of the passengers who hadn't been able to pay Oleg for his assistance. However, her "sea legs" were weak, and coupled with the heavy pole, they made her fall right on her prat. "Oof!"
"Not you," Oleg grumbled. "You look like you've run fifteen miles already!" That's not far from the truth, the embarrassed tale-spinner thought, though it was actually more like two miles... Exhausted, she settled into her place aboard the ferry, near the very front. She was sitting next to Oleg, who snickered at her lightly. Per'dra was far too tired to mind, however...