Time flew by as you discussed the impracticality of the entire trip, ans soon, the stout, short man known as Mr. Walthers bursts out of the "ofise" and says in his high, squeaky voice, "Lets go! we need to get to the docks within 45 minutes, no time to lose!" the carts get set, the boxes loaded, and the people on the move. there is not much that any of you can catch in the chaos of moving, but you all end up in the gigantic ship headed to the Western mainland, with all the carts and mules in the hold, you await your arrival in the new land.

Bob enters the room, pulls up a stool, and casually asks, "so... what do you guy's think it's going to be like"