"Sure, I'll take ya," he says in a salty rasp, "Name's Softswain. Sharl Softswain, and this is my mightly ship, the Money Lucky. I gotta go pretty far North to dump this trash here," He gestures at the immense, putrid mass of refuse in the middle of his barge, "Well, somebody's gotta do it, ya know? I been doin' it for well on fifty years now. If you dump it too close to the city they fine ya, and if you dump it near the fishin' villages, they shoot arrows at ya for ruinin' their fishin' waters. So I gotta go North. For days, if you'll believe it.
Yeah, I seen Myrtolo Keep. Sometimes I go that far. Why ya goin' there, if ya don't mind me askin'? Just a pile of junk, now, ain't it?
Oh, it'll cost you, umm, twenty gold. Yeah, that's about right. Twenty."