"Everyone off!" the guard bellows with as much force as he could muster, his comrades wasting no time in coaxing you into the stream of passengers being forced off the ship. None of them are taking any pains to be gentle.
Merchants, pilgrims, mercenaries, couriers, and other journeymen from all walks of life crowded around the gangplank at the behest of swears and rough shoves. People comment on the indignant treatment, tossing back empty threats of reprisals or muttering accusations to mates who had brought them for the journey to Havenport. The only thing more palpable than the cacophony is the stench of so many people and the constant pushing and shoving that leads you on. All around, on either side of the Cyianadrana are more ships where passengers and crew are being being forced to disembark. Captains and ranking officers stand around on the piers, arguing with officials scribbling on parchments.
The docks are packed full of people trying to make their way to the town. At the end of the pier sits a guard at a makeshift desk who presses a few questions to each passenger before ushering them away with a few quick scribbles on his papers and a wave of his hand.
Finally, it is your turn.
"Name?" he asks with a voice taut with impatience and fatigue.