The sun, descending slowly, on the verge of being swallowed by the ocean, sent out its final rays upon the skies: a mix of red and orange, as if burnt by a thousand flames.
Under its gaze, a lone ship cruised. With it around, the sky wasn't the only one touched by fire as about a third of the ship was charred black, the scent of burnt wood and charcoal reigning throughout the wooden deck.
Still, despite its condition, the ship was fully operational, multiple green-skinned wood dwarves emotionlessly pacing back and forth, keeping it moving. The only person who seemed to care about the ship's state was an old man at the helm, his eyes teary, grunting all sorts of curse words toward a certain demon.
As he rambled on, another taller old man walked up next to him, a white cloth in hand, wiping his arms clean.
"How are dem lads?" Oblitus stopped spitting curses upon noticing the Medicus leaning on the wooden rails in front of him.
