Bjorn glared beneath his helmet, turning slightly to view observe that he was now surrounded by hostile appearing folk. Perhaps one Skaven said he'd follow the little witch on his shoulder, but that didn't mean he trusted it in the least. It was a rogue-like little thing, and he expected it to make a try at stabbing him in the back anytime now. Then there were the pirates that were now boarding the ship. Individually he could kill any of them simply enough, but there were too many, armed with southerner black-powder weapons. He'd be cut down by lead as soon as he even made a move for one of them. It was a depressing situation for a warrior of chaos. But, it made him happy he didn't kill the girl awhile ago, she seemed good with this sort of situation. He'd let Anya speak, she knew what she was doing, he'd let her have the boring job. He shifted his weight, taking a small step back. He put down the corpse he gripped in his right hand, but made no move for his second axe. He slowly began to ponder things. First the zombies, then Anya, then pirates, then a rat-man. SOmeone was indeed messing with fate. Tzeentch must want something done, it appeared. He wouldn't gather all these folk here in one location for no reason, unless he wanted to watch a battle royale, but that wasn't the Changer of Ways' style. Bjorn grinned, and listened to Anya negotiate with the pirate-wench.

__________________
When a new day reaches dawn,
I feel it's worth the wait,
But I tumble and I fall,
I'm up against my fate.

When the barricades come down,
I'll build them up again,
When I'm just about to drown,
I still don't know the end.