Strike them on the head!" "There is no ship, Khorre, there is nothing--it is all a lie.

I want to drink." He takes a bottle and laughs: "Look, sailor--here the wind and the storm and you and I are locked.

It is all a deception, Khorre!" "I want to play." "Here my sorrow is locked.

Look! In the green glass it seems like water, but it isn't water.

Let us drink, Khorre--there on the bottom I see my laughter and your song.