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As Anglermaw taunted Hans with the idea of an alliance Fal began to have his belief in such an endeavor fade. He tightly gripped his blade as he looked at Hans.
"Don't worry. I've been considering this for a while and now I need to think. Trust me I know what I'm doing." He says with a look of worry and glimmer or doubt. Personally he didn't believe Anglermaw could be trusted. But he knew it was needed to happen in order to stop a greater threat. "There's a lot of problems currently occurring. Issues that I feel we would need the Emperor's very permission to assist with." Looking back to Anglermaw and then to Hans. "What have I gotten involved in. Hans." He looks to the student while ever ready to kill the vermin nearby. "You don't need to follow. You can get passage into Tilea and make your way back to the Empire or Bretonnia. This is no place for a scholar." He adds giving Hans an alternative. He knew Hans would be in danger if he came so an option for him to get out was the best Fal could offer before committing completely to what could be a suicide mission.

"It pains of me to wonder what sort of brigands would allow such a thing on board a ship." Hans wondered, his words sombre with worry. The Student attempted to wipe away at the splatters of filth lathered across his outfit. It was to no avail, however; the foul mass simply stuck to his grazed palms. He nodded in return toward Falderan's words of assurance, grunting silently as to expell the same ghastly vapour that ravaged his lungs. Then he slid his fingers across his side, greatly relieved to know that his purse had not been either lost during the battle, or perhaps stolen by one the Sartosan dregs.

"I'll get myself at the nearest mainland port." Hans replied. "But, if this was just a taste of what's to come... Sigmar be with you, Falderan. Maybe if Bjorn and Miguel were as prudent, they'd still be alive." Hans' words were weak and fleeting under the weight of his grief. He raised himself, stiffened as he came to terms with the situation, and his eyes were reddened with liquidated misery, struggling to hold back the tears.

The Skaven chittered, utterly indifferent. "Well, I think we've overstayed our welcome 'ere." Said Anglermaw, grazing the stonework with his glowing hookarm. It's sharp edge was as dangerous as ever, sharp enough to cleave through chosen flesh and scratch upon the ground to spur a cringeworthy grind. "We should get to th' port, you two. I'll have a scent o' the Ark the moment we're seaborn. Horned Rat knows how strong such a musk will carry."

Fal glared at Anglermaw with deep seated suspicion.
"Kill and steal and I'll have you flayed and hanging from the wharf for the gulls to feast on." He says with a blatant threat and no holds bared. "Wait. If this ship is near the city chances are any number of ships will encounter it. What are the offensive and defensive capabilities of it?" Fal began following Anglermaw and questioning him. The nightly sea air was was chilled and the emerald glow of the moon faded somewhat as it made it's journey across the sky. By the position of the moon it was around two thirty AM.

"Near a city?" Anglermaw laughed, accompanied by a phlegmatic sputter as he sauntered toward the port, stepping over the various dead. "Elf, were the Ark near any city, it'd be ruins by now. It's a metal fortress upon the sea, churning smog o' green as it sails."

"The Ark?" Hans interjected, trudging along through the man-made mire of blood. "A... local, he told us about it. There were encampments full of diseased soldiers before the Skaven raided. They were all in agony; you could here them moan from up the hills."

"Then ye've already borne witness to the effects of sorcerous plagues that might be in store for ya!" Anglermaw returned. "The musk'll be strong, stronger than any scent in Skavendom. I'm Captain and compass, don't ye worry."

He then once more crooked his head as the trio stood by the now splintered port. Birds of many feathers circled the devastation, from gulls to crows, to other strange creatures that clearly had been touched by the influence of this dreaded Skaven pox. These rotting beasts chose to ignore the newcomers, preferring to tear into the fresh carcasses of more silent, peaceful prey.

"And Elf, again! What'd I tell ya, I ain't got no plans for betrayal!" Anglermaw vehemently established. "I've got too many enemies in and out o' Skavenblight to be backstabbing anyone."

With the mystical fog no longer blighting the port, it was clear that there were few ships still remaining, a large majority were either scuttled during the battle, or had begun to sail toward the abyssal horizon. Most, but not all.

"Bloody Hell!" A drunken sailor exclaimed, surveying the three wanderers from a nearby ship. "Anudda one 'o the Rats! An' e's brought mates as well! Where's me bloody rifle?"
"Ye threw it inta' sea 'cause one o' the bastards gnawed it in 'alf, had sod!" Another replied, moving into view.

"Wait, please!" Hans moved forward, barging past the Sea-Rat. A bold move considering his position. "He's not like the others, I can assure you. We're simply looking for passage onto the mainland."

Anglermaw wretched. "Yeah, what he said."

A third fellow upon the vessel came into view; his appearance and posture far more refined than that of his surrounding men. He was clean shaven, bearing an Admiral's cap, and a tightly knit coat of tan linen. Not a drop of Skaven claret stained his figure. But this did not nominate him as a craven; his smooth face was marred by a myriad of grotesque scars, as he stared comtemptuously toward the trio.

"An Elf, A Rat... and from your accent, a Reiklander far from home, I presume?" Grunted the Captain. "Were this any other city, you three would be lynched on this bloody spot." Anglermaw's squinted at the Human's snark, but as he had mentioned to the Elf, this was not the time for conflict. He let it slide, Hans would do the talking.

"I-I can pay for travel. L-Luccini will do, that's all!" Hans murmered.

"Luccini?!" The Captain laughed. "I've just come back from the mainland, boy. Luccini is a smouldering wreckage full of pox and nurglite plagues. Just get on board the ship, the three of you, and we'll talk about a deal later. Sigmar knows what your friend there could possibly know about whatever Dreadnaught is lurking on the open sea."

Hans fell silent, being the first to climb aboard. Anglermaw being second, Skaven nerves jittering as he was surrounded by vile smelling Man-things in embossed in vibrant, tassled uniforms. This left Falderan to make his decision.

"A ship that expels a plague spreading smoke that weakens a port before even attacking. This is a vile tactic. But I can't argue with it's efficiency." Fal was both disgusted and impressed by the ingenuity of the Skaven. The following words were an odd comfort to him. "Funny that the only way you're trustworthy is because you've pissed enough of your own kind off. It's truly a comedy for the ages." Fal kept moving along the port. Noticing the birds, cats, dogs and normal rodents feasting on the littered corpses. The sound of voices and sight of a ship brought his attention to its peak.

Fate had an odd way of working out. The fact they not only found a stable ship and crew but also weren't shot on sight despite the company that was kept. Once the pirates started speaking Fal went to draw his blade but kept his hand steady but ready should the situation get more desperate. Hans stepped in however and with surprising sophistication talked the situation down. Anglermaw seemed like he would be the death of them but the vermin minded his tongue enough to not antagonize anyone.

Once the captain came out and offered them passage Fal eyed the group. A small crew and moderate sized ship. Would take about a dozen men to operate it on minimum staff but it would certainly mean they have enough on board. They seemed combat wary by the scars and cocky enough to have worked with many in their years. They seemed rather relaxed yet kept weapons ready. They were confident in what they were. This concerned Fal for if they were back stabbed they had pretty good chances of killing them. However, they seemed to want information about the Ark from Anglermaw. They didn't seem to know much about it but from what the rat said of the plague spreading death vessel and a recent attack it would fit all too well. Fal couldn't help but smile as the group were brought onto the ship.
"The enemy of my enemy." He says under his breath with a chuckle.

Once he made his way on the boat behind Anglermaw he looked to the captain.
"I think we can sort something out. The Skaven seems willing to cooperate. Sadly I must say he's with me though." Fal's eyes dart around and he takes subtle note of everyone. "So who're you all?" He asks with a cautious yet friendly tone. This would be a great risk especially with Hans. But if they were right and these pirates wanted the info from Anglermaw they could all work together. For now at least.

The Captain once again took a silent survey of these new supplicants. Ragged and bloodied, it was clear to him that the fellows who now stood upon his ship were certainly no greenhorns, two of them at least. But this Skaven - the very sight at least - was enough to make the Captain bite his inner lip, stewing with contempt. It sent him vitriolic enough that there was a Ratman on his ship; it was an unthinkable matter in itself that he had to keep the matted little bastard alive. He grimaced at the thought, but so long as this Ark sailed, every city that sat upon the coast of the Old World would be doomed to join Luccini. Or at least, that is what the refugees in Myrmidens and beyond seem to believe.

"Who are we?" Grunted the Captain. "Vanderbarzen. Captain - Lars - Vanderbarzen." He articulated his title well, as to assert his dominance over the crew. "Marienburger sailor extraordinaire, and master of The Siren of Gorsel, which you three so happen to be stood upon."

Anglmaw whirled his head around the ship, a modest galley, no doubt. Certainly a dimunitive mite in comparission to the Ark, but it would do from getting to one place to the next. Wherever that place was would be the will of Uretchin, of course. Skavenblight seemed likely; no doubt that Rotflag would be hold the same theory. All this worthless talk boiled within Anglermaw's naturally impatient mind. He was no leader aboard this ship of Man-things, but at least he held some influence in terms of direction. Though these folk would indeed have to be insane to sail in the midst of Skavenblight, let alone the hulking dreadnaught itself, simply titled 'The Ark.'

"Regardless. Pet, companion, or even a slave. I care not how you treat the Skaven, only the answers that he gives." Replied Lars, sauntering over toward the Sea-Rat, almost rudely barging the exhausted Hans out of the way. "Listen." He pointed toward Anglermaw. "I don't care for any formalities, any titles you held, and how many of your inbred ilk you killed just to wear that piss-stained hat. There's only one Captain aboard this ship, and the three of you are busy oogling at him." He then crooked his legs, staring down toward the Skaven's level.

"Keep your weapons sheathed and your nose clean. Because once you outlive your worth, you'll be tossed overboard with a nice round hole between your eyes." Lars warned, and despite Anglermaw's own outrage, he knew that he could not retaliate. The Skaven kept his spite contained. At least for the moment. As a matter of fact, Anglermaw wagered that he could slice this boistrous fool's throat with a mere swing of the hookarm and be done there. T'was a shame that would cost him a good few allies, and possibly his life, as the contemptuous crewmates gazed toward the Skaven. Ready - perhaps excited even - for the slightest act of betrayal.

"As for you two..." Lars rose, giving his new mates a quick smirk. "...Welcome aboard the Siren of Gorsel. Make yourselves at home; treat yourselves to the grub and grog within. The only payment I ask for are your bodies, and your prudence. We'll set sail immediately. I saw far too much of that last battle to linger in this wreckage."

Hans nodded in thanks. "Much o-obliged, Captain Lars." He murmured, looking on as a group of the crew released sails and began making preparations for the open sea. "I shall g-get myself down immediately."

"Get warm, and get rested, lad. You look a mess" Lars replied, patting the Student on his shoulder as Hans dissapeared within.

"Food, you say?" Anglermaw inquired, devilishly licking his already famished beak. "I cannot speak-tell you how starving I am right now, Man-thing." The Skaven crept forward toward the interior, but his path was blocked by a group of distainful sailors.

"I don't think so." Lars bluntly replied. "Rats belong in the brig, with the rest of the undesirables."

"Is this some sort 'o joke-jest, eh?" Anglermaw yelled aghast, almost forgetting not to raise his hookarm.

"Crewmates, escort this overgrown rodent to the cells until he can be deemed of use. Place a pellet between his eyes if he tries to bite." The Captain ordered, and Anglermaw found himself humiliated and accosted by a group of sailors armed with cutlasses and and short ranged pistols. Anglermaw was furious, and yet, could not raise a hand. Such was the price of humility.

"What the bloody Hell am I gonna eat?" Shouted the Sea-Rat as he was escorted.

"You can feed on your minature kinfolk, if you so wish." Lars chuckled. He then turned back toward Falderan, the oars already moving away from this dreaded island.

"Well now..." The Captain began. "We'll give it until dawn before we get the Rat out of his cage. I simply don't trust the cretin for him to be wandering around the ship willy-nilly. If from what I saw upon Lucinni was a taste of things to come then... Morr deliver us."