Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26852465-20160407172439/@comment-26852465-20160419190638

"Ha, well.. Alf's no prophet. Just an old sailor." Lyle prioritized his focus into rowing.. the speed of the rowboat began to pick up. After 15 minutes or so, he addressed the Hero.

"Sir Trivalti, is the island within sight, yet?" Lyle was too busy rowing to look ahead, otherwise he would have spared Agrarian the trouble.

Mel, on the other hand, took to napping within Dread's lap. She didn't snore too loudly, but like Alf, a bubble of mucus grew and shrank with her breathing patterns... looking at it made Lyle feel a bit of nostalgia.