Although he preferred to keep them secret, Ganelon the Crow was the sort of person who enjoyed having plans for absolutely everything. Improvisation was, of course, an essential talent in the swindler's trade, but he firmly believed that one should always have a detailed concept of how to create or encourage favorable outcomes for himself in every foreseeable situation. Against the crew of the Rotsman in particular, he had amassed an impressive wealth of information that could be used to his advantage, whether it was the unusual vices embraced by certain pirates or a list of unscrupulous stories that they would all prefer the captain never heard of. As he rarely got caught gathering this information, a few of them came to the conclusion that he simply knew everything.<br/><br/>If that were really true, however, it was unlikely that he would ever have found himself climbing a poorly secured rope up to the hold of his former ship without failsafes, while wearing a coat that was liable to cut that rope in spite of his best efforts to stop it.<br/><br/>A strong draft began to blow from the west, slowly pushing the rope and its passenger into another inevitable swing. This added another challenge to what should have already been an impossible task, but compared to the weight of his clothes and the weakness in his limbs, it was nothing to the Crow. He dragged himself upwards as if determination itself were a force which could move his body, not daring to slow down and let the blades lining his arms dig in to the fabric around them. The wind picked up speed and became erratic, whipping his hair back and forth and tugging at his coat, but it wasn't enough to interrupt the momentum he had already achieved.<br/><br/>Somewhere around two-thirds of the way up, a sound quite unlike anything Ganelon had heard before managed to overcome the air howling past his ears. The realization of what it was hit him only a second before the spray of steaming hot water did - a geyser had erupted underneath the Flying Rotsman, and it was powerful enough to not only break the ocean's surface but climb to a point where he could see it by simply looking upwards. It was an amorphous white pillar of steam and foam, and there was something at the top which was difficult to make out even with a lookout's keen eyesight. Shouts from above suggested that it was a thing to panic over, but as they were competing with the sound of strong winds and rushing water, all greater detail was lost to the Crow.<br/><br/>He ignored the crew's voices. He also ignored the burning mist that was beginning to cling to his body, the loss of feeling in his arms, and the fact that the storm had only come closer since he had first seen it from the Pervy Freedom's deck. This time, there was no plan going through his head. He had an objective, and failing to meet it would kill him. Thoughts of the future were nothing more than a distraction from that simple truth.<br/><br/>One hand above the head, grip, pull, repeat. So the Crow continued his journey to the exclusion of all else. The rope became slick with water, so he gripped it more tightly. Winds blew hair over his eyes, but he didn't need to see in order to keep climbing. By far, the greatest obstacle had become pain, although the fear of death - something he thought he had lost - was still pushing him onwards much more strongly than he could be held back. On the inside, he cursed at himself for ever thinking to do something as stupid as bring every last knife with him, and for once, his attachment to them did not voice dissent.<br/><br/>After what felt like hours, one of the Crow's shaking hands struck wood. Hesitantly, he moved it back to clear his vision and beheld the Flying Rotsman, finally within arm's reach. He scrambled up in a desperate burst of energy and crawled his way into the hold, not bothering to stand up, and simply stopped to lie face-first on the hard wooden floor once he was a safe distance from the opening he had entered from.<br/><br/>The Crow had made it. His reward was a moment's peace, and not even the sounds of open combat above deck would deny it to him.