Brokk stared back and forth between the scene of carnage and death, and the young skirt chaser. "Oi, 'urry up youngit - no not like that!" he screamed as Fortune made the hole in the ship. He gripped his hair with one hand and covered his mouth's scream with the other only to realize he was releasing the rope and quickly grabbed back onto it. "Damn youngits and their youngit ways... they're even worse when damn umgi, running after anything with long hair and a dress showing some leg...." he said. In fact, he said, or rather grumbled [i]much[/i] more. He didn't like grumbling as much as a typical longbeard, but he still enjoyed it, especially when there was a good subject regarding which to be displeased. Sometimes, he and his elder comrades were actually angry when all was well, simply because there was nothing to be angry about. There was of course the lack of things to be angry about [i]to be angry about,[/i] but they didn't want to go down that rabbit hole; even the oldest Dwarf knew that someday he just might get bored of complaining, especially when already they did so regarding nearly everything. 

It was regarding the behaviour of the longbeards that he was thinking when he saw the Knightly umgi fight. Yes, the Bretonnian fought quite like one of them. They never did more or less when was needed, it was like a weedy youngster playing chess against an old wise sage. The latter had simply done it for longer and more often, and was just better at it than any urk, be it a grobi, elgi or raki. Sometimes they even moved slowly or lazily, something never expected in combat. Yet somehow the axe was always in just the right spot to split the enemy in two, the shield was always there to block a strike no matter how clever, and the boot was always there to turn a groin into mush. The Bretonnian seemed to at least have the experience of them. Brokk would never say the Knight fought as well as a Longbeard, but one could come close. 

He considered throwing his cinderblast bomb or blasting charge upon the Norscan ship to just be done with it all, but then he realized that this was an umgi ship, not a sturdy Dawi ironclad. Fire was always a hazard, not an ally here. He grunted a little and noticed another Northman coming close. Hoping to cut off the lad's rope and then make the Dwarf just a little bit shorter, no doubt. Well he was having none of that, no! He whimpered and made himself shiver, feigning senile fear. He pretended to be anxious for the lad to come up (which he was, but for different reasons) so that he could protect him from the brute. However just before the critical moment he tugged at a throwing az and let it spin in the air to go into his chest. He wasn't willing to risk a hit upon the head, for the ship was in constant motion and he didn't want to lose and az when he was so far from any civilization to replace it. Just so the man would not topple over and plunge into the water and make his axe lost to the sea, he pulled at his hammer and with the sharpened pick-side of it struck the man in the right side of the stomach and then pulled hard. The weapon would rip off the skin and clothing and hook some intestines onto itself but the force would make the man fall to the floor rather than overboard. The Ranger placed his foot on the throwing axe now dislodged and on the ground so it wouldn't slide away, put his hammer away and then pulled at the rope to hopefully get the boy up, scolding him in Khazalid as he did so and clipping him on the ear for defacing the ship as he would clamber on.