"A boatless man is tied to the land!" Urien roared, holding up his cup. His men banged on the table in concerted rhythm; even a few of the servitors joined in, albeit a bit off 'key' one might say.

"Bare is the back of a brotherless man!" I replied back in traditional fashion. My voice has always been deep and strong, but when around Urien it was more coarse and theatrical. We both drained our cups with equal enthusiasm, and the men cheered and supped their own draughts, servitors already standing by with fresh cups as they dispensed with the first drink of the night and began to feast of steaming poultry and livestock. At the head of the table was an aptly placed head of a Grox, filled with apples coated in a sweet pastry Urien's people had concocted from an old recipe of their homeland. Hills of vegetables and cups of water dotting the landscape of the table, and further alcoholic beverages began to flow. 

"This all seems really fresh," Emmaline said, pleasantly surprised. She sat on a comfortably cushioned chair, wrought in a barbaric style of wood and skins, with more modern pillows sewed underneath to give a good base for any dinner guest's rump to settle on. 

"Engum flýgur sovanda steik gæs i munne" I replied, speaking to her directly, though the closest crewman, a man named Bragund, nodded in appreciation of my thoroughly practiced accent. At her questioning look, I gave a rough, less brutish translation. "Nothing comes free. We picked up some good meat and alcohol on Zaebus Minoris after trading a few minerals of the cargo hold with the Red Scorpions. Never hurts to give them something as thanks, and they in return." 

"Likt á vidd likt Likt" Bagund remarked as though he were reciting a litany or a solemn prayer. I had discovered, at first to my chagrin and later to my delight, that when speaking their own language, they tended to speak in proverbs. It was not a custom they had on their homeworld, but one they adopted after they had 'transcended to the beyond' as it were, as they felt they were 'doing the works of the gods.' Some guests pitied them their fanciful delusions, but it was not too far from the truth. And honestly, who am I to question whether their outlook on reality is true or not? I do hold many philosophical truths, but for all I know, we are but a figment in the emperor's mind, or the warp itself surrounds all but this pocket galaxy. Of course I did not truly believe such, but as a young man your mind is far more open to possibilities, and listening to Urien and his crew played with ones imagination. Their epics were truly inspiring. 

"Láttu ekki happ ur hendi sleppa," I replied back, and then explained chronologically. "Give and take is fair play, and opportunity knocks only once." 

"Is lahdy of the cr-r-rew?" The red-bearded Bragund asked, and Kraltar one-eye leaned forward in interest. The latter brute had an ox's horns displayed on his large shoulders and warpaint on his face, melding into his hefty brown beard.

"My crew, yes."  

"Aaaaahhhhh!" They both said, waving their hands away in disappointment. "Come now, Inquisitor. Ask her faur us thenn!" 

"My crewmate is not required to do anything." I reminded them, regaining a bit of my usual sternness. 

"Iht daus not hurt to ahsk, yeah?" Bragund wondered, and I shook my head and let out a breathless chuckle. I admit I capitulated, but only if she felt comfortable. I turned, leaned over to Emmaline Von Morganstern, and whispered in her ear. Admittedly I forgot exactly what I said to her, but somehow it had worked... 

[hider]
It is custom for any new crewmember to dance on the table to show their exultation of joining. As she is not of Urien's crew, she is exempt, but Hadrian may ask. 
[/hider]