The Meeting

[Thunderer]

You! Yes, you!

*a heavy man in an armor, who's sitting on a bar chair, surrounded by two modestly dressed women, with a horned helm and a gray beard, points his finger in Andrew's direction. His eyes look absolutely drunk, but there is some kind of a flame burning in them. He is Olaf Fromm, the infamous, fearsome and occult captain of the Hvannadalshnukur, a Red Hessian battleship with the same characteristics*

You little man! Bah, and Helga gave herself for... for... this! Come here, you weakling! Nobody *hick*... Nobody crosses Olaf Fromm!

*Confused, but confident that his soberness will give him an advantage, at least at running, over Olaf, Andrew approaches*

Helga... *looks upwards, not at the ceiling, but at his memories* Helga was my first... *hick* My first woman. She still wasn't a woman, nor I was a man. Those were good times, the times when we were still young and unripe, when our little innocent minds still didn't get the complexity of this CURSED BLOODY life *hick*, nor cared about it.

*he pauses and breaths in and out*

You may take Helga. She's now old and wrinkled like my shirt which has nobody to wash it! I need a woman! One who would sit there and wash, not just complain about my salary... I need a bigger salary, as well.

*he pauses a bit, trying to remember where did he stop*

Ah! Lad, never trust a woman! *hick* Women - you can't live with them, but you can't live without *hick* them!

*Olaf grabs a woman's breast, kneading it a bit, and then pushes the slut away, making himself lose balance and fall. The other whore runs away*

Argharghmrph hmph! *hick* Give me a hand, would you? Ah, thank you! I feel like ready for another mug of mead. Bartender, give me two of that your mead, that which would shake mighty Odin himself!

*the bartender pours the mead into the mugs until it starts spilling out, and puts them onto the table. Olaf drinks his at once*

Another one, bartender! Ah, thank you! Now, young lad, I wanted to tell you something important. Forget Helga, I told you you may take her. This is much more important than a wrinkled old slut. *hick*
Odin is losing his believers. That means a handful of us must offer him more sacrifice. He lusts for more blood. But, those FAT, ANEMIC RHEINLAND PIGS eat too much luxury food, smoke too much tobacco and drink too much beer! *hick* Their fat is increasing, while they are becoming anemic, forcing me to catch more of them!

*short pause*

I want you to intercept every and any convoy in Rheinland, carry..*hick* Carrying anything what can be unhealthy for them! I know it isn't logical to make your enemy healthier, but Odin just won't receive some musty swamps instead of fresh blood! Destroy those goods, blow the transports up if you can. I'm not very rich, but I can pay you a million, or two. Just make them healthier.
Also, the Sairs are dirtier than ever before. You don't have to, but I'd like you to deliver them some soap, if you can. I won't pay you, it is your choice weather you'll do it, or not. I just don't like the smell when I slaughter their piteous bodies. *hick* The contract would also include protecting my little battleship if I request.

*Olaf rises his full mug like he wants to knock it with Andrew's to cheer, spilling a bit of mead out*

Do... *hick* Do we have a deal?

---

Bretonian Treaty Database Bretonian Armed Forces Recruitment Center
Bretonian Charter of Interstellar Law Bretonian Secrets Act