[i]A conversation on the ship (before being asked to leave...)[/i]

(a Bright_Ops, [@Andreyich] and[@POOHEAD189] collab)

Fortune sneezed as he continued to walk against the rocking of the ship. While he didn't regret his decision to leap into the ocean after Alison, there was a price to be paid for jumping into a freezing cold sea and that was the cold that had struck him less then a day after the storm had finally broken. It wasn't bad enough to actually strike him down and make him bedridden, but it didn't exactly do him any favors (worse still, it made the sea sickness all the more draining). 

All it had done through was cause an idea to start forming in his mind; At first it sounded strange and possibly impossible, but the more he thought about it the more he started to think of possible ways to make it work... 

However, he needed advice and considering the nature of what he had planned, there were only really two people on the ship who he knew of that understood the importance of what he was going to ask them to actually take him seriously. 

All he had to do was find the dwarves first.

Brokk was on the mast, sleeping quite happily in the rain. The days as a ranger made him quite accustomed and even satisfied by the patter of water, and the sound of working men grunting. As the storm died down, the Dwarf contentedly lit up his pipe, using his favoured tobacco and mushroom powder. His gun was finally clean and loaded, and his hammer polished. They were to be in Lustria soon, and as far as he was concerned, the day was going well. Sure, a few comrades died but it was at the cost of several norscan lives. He could do naught but relax. 

Sketti had himself begun to tinker with one of his inventions. An ingenious black powder bomb that exploded with a certain concussive force after a 4 second timer. Better than those 5 second timers his cousin had insisted were the latest invention. This one saved on the enemy trying to scramble away, and also had the added benefit of probably keeping them alive to question or kill in close combat later. 

Still, there was no way to test it and he grumbled at that, before he got the bright idea of maybe throwing it overboard. See what it does to fish? He was soon on the deck, walking with a purpose before he found himself standing near to Brokk. "Tromm," he said in passing. 

The Longbeard nodded, puffing a ring of smoke. "Drengi." he replied, staring at whatever was in his hand. Beardlings were always designing something new, he couldn't bother to check what it was until he decided it was presentable. 

Fortune managed to locate both dwarves on the deck!... through exactly what Sketti was up to he had absolutely no idea. Didn't really matter at any rate... "Excuse me." He called out to both of them, taking a quick breath in order to prep himself for what he was going to talk with them about. "But can I talk to you both for a second? I need to work out the finer details of something and you both are the only two on this ship that I trust to take it completely seriously."

The Ranger was quite surprised to be approached the lad, and wondered why him in particular. Perhaps because he had decided to help the boy? But then why the Slayer, he wondered. Still, it was very satisfying to know that the "wisdom of the ancients" was heeded. As such, the Dwarf stood, brushing dust off of his stumpy knees. Then he looked about, in case it was a secretive matter that was best left undisclosed rather than just unridiculed. "Aye, lad?" he asked, waddling over. 

Sketti grunted, turning only slightly to the diminutive manling lad that had strode up on deck. "Hmmm?" He would look half crazed, even though he was merely curious and a bit irked that someone was interrupting his experiment. 

While Fortune didn't exactly know what the dwarf with the orange hair was up to or the device he held... part of him couldn't help but be somewhat concerned about being close to him whenever he did... whatever he was going to do with it. Still, he had come this far. Taking a deep breath in order to work out exactly what to say now that he had made it to this point, he decided to explain a little.

"You see, I was considering making an... Oath of sorts to myself. An oath of Vengence against a force that has laid my family low... however, due to the nature of the force in question, I'm not quite sure how to word said Oath... or what would be the correct manner of going about settling it..." 

Now came the hard part... the target of said Oath of Vengence. "I wish vengence on the Gods of pestilence and plague." 

The Ranger perked up a little, curious. It was an interesting predicament; most humans just swore to defeat the worshippers of the dark gods rather than the dark gods themselves. Still, he had witnessed the lad chase after a girl rather than fight to save the ship, so perhaps he wasn't an ordinary one. He knew the bigger of the Bretonnians were much more than human, but he wasn't aware of the specifics and how the boy figured into them.

Eventually he slapped his hands together and rubbed them. "Well lad, there's a lot to such a matter." he started, wondering where even to begin with the noble art of grudging. He reckoned it would not be wise to talk him into something akin to the slayer oath, and as far as he was aware he was not in need of one. "Ya see, while you should never forgive nor forget, you have to be realistic. Take babby steps. You chop the wazzocks of the north one at a time, or the beast-kin who also worship the rot-god. It's settled whenever you think it is." Waving a hand in the direction of the old world, he continued. "In the Dammaz Kron, it is recorded all that is done against us Dawi. There, we remember all of it. Each grudge gets settled in it's own way. Some are centuries old, against enemies even older. Yet every day we get closer to getting it settled." With a rustle of the mustache he stared up into Fortune's eyes. "What's the reason you have it in for the rot-god, if you don't mind me asking. It narrows down the way in which you finish this, is all.

Sketti's reaction was a tad different than Brokk's for when he heard the word oath from this young manling, he barked a harsh laugh. After a moment, it seemed the laughter was met with seriousness, and he realized the Brettonian was not joking. 

"The Longbeard is right. Baby steps are needed, but there are no baby steps with Oaths, lad. If ye can't handle the oath, don't take it. You'll dishonor your father, your family and your name." 

The maimed Slayer put his bomb back into his pack, and fully turned to the manling. "And Aye, I too wonder what ye have them in for. Not that they don't deserve a good slaying."

Fortune sighed a little. "See I was thinking that since striking at a god directly is just generally not possible, it would instead act as something of a casus belli against [i]all[/i] mortal followers of the rot gods. After all, they claim to be the representatives of their god of this world so it's only fair that they accept the greviences  that their god's actions cause... But I can see how wording would be rather important for that."

Glancing away for a moment as they both asked [i]why[/i] he wished to do this, he paused for a moment before sighing. "...A plague swept their my families lands, killing my parents, most of our loyal staff and a man that I personally have come to consider a brother for his actions during those dark days. Tried to take me too but the Lady decided to spare me from it..." 

"They deserved better then to die in such a dishonorable manner." Fortune said with a conviction that was rare in humans. It was the kind of conviction that made one tempted to take on gods...

Sketti gave a snort and a nod. Brokk was not surprised by the train of thought the lad took, especially seeing his family die without anyone material to blame. Of coures, one had to be careful to make sure they didn't just chop up a lad for sneezing or catching some flu, but that could be worked upon. The Dwarf scratched at his mustached, his thumb going along his sideburns. "It's a noble cause you have, seeing what done happened. In your case, I reckon you're best off going around the Loren woods when we get back, you'll find lots of beast-kin to sate your bloodlust on. If you don't find it enough, you can go far North, live with the Kislevites and burn the camps of the Norscans - the same umgi that gave us trouble on that longboat. Some day the dark gods'll be amassing once more, and you'll be around to help if you're certain about it. 'Course, it wasn't your fault so you should not let it become you like a Slayer. Don't want you running off when we get to Lustria, that's for sure!" he chuckled despite the grim business. He seemed determined, and he did not see a reason to dissuade the boy from it. As such, he could only help Fortune in his objective. 

The Slayer had a more pessemstic view of his goal. "In this world, lad. Chaos will find you." he told him. "So will Grobi, and Beastman. Focus on the mission ahead. There'll be plenty of killing to be done before ye know it."  

Then again, the Slayer also felt like Fortune's goal was a good one for any to have. "The Longbeard is right, then again. If you're a bit too impatient for danger to find you, there's plenty of places to go and get yourself killed in. Make no illusions though lad. If you go in looking for the followers of the Dark powers, your life will be even shorter than most manlings. All you can hope for is shortening some Chaos spawn's life as well beforehand." 

Fortune bowed his head in understanding; There was no harm in accepting the wisdom of those who had been around for who knows how long and understood the importance of giving ones word. "Thank you for the advice. While I am still confident in the Oath and the intentions behind it... I might put off making a formal challenge to all the rotting bastards that worship such dark gods until I've settled a few things. Our travels together being first on the list." 

Offering both Dwarves a small smile... he blinked a little in curiousity as he found himself asking "Forgive me, but I've never heard the term 'Grobi' before. What is that?"

Sketti raised an eyebrow, looking at the young lad with a baleful over his shoulder as he had since turned away again. "No, I suppose ye wouldn't. It means Greenskin. Orcs, Goblins and such. The filth of the Badlands. Good in a fight though...or determined, if anything."