The sight of Ganelon the Crow setting foot outside of his nest was a rare one indeed, and it would be for as long as there were pirates around to witness it. His constant taunts were rarely enough of a nuisance to draw direct punishment when he made himself so hard to reach, but down on the deck he was both an easy target and a deserving one. On busy days, he couldn't take a single step without being shoved by one anonymous aggressor into a waiting group of three more who, being pirates, rarely did him the courtesy of recounting his crimes before they eagerly trampled him into submission on the way to their stations. They, like him, tended to practice just enough restraint to make any action taken against them more trouble than it was worth, but there was precisely one situation where any two men of the sea taking revenge upon each other was completely justified - disputing the rights to plunder.<br/><br/>As he walked to the side of the ship, Ganelon bore a confident grin that was doing a fantastic job of keeping his crewmates a safe distance away from him. In each hand, he carried a wickedly curved knife with a black, serrated blade and a tassel of crow's feathers fixed to the hilt. Together, the two weapons were his most valuable possessions by far - a pair of allegedly cursed daggers that he had "liberated" from an Inquisition exorcist well before his life had taken him to the sea and the skies above it. His claim to their ownership was indisputable even without the more recently decorated hilts, though the curse itself was anything but; there were hundreds of stories about how even the most shallow cuts would bleed forever, or how the weapons left grievous wounds on anyone who dared to touch them, not to mention countless more that described the terrible fates that would surely befall any man foolish enough to claim the blades for his own. Ganelon never paid any mind to his colleagues' warnings, but he did enjoy recounting the tales to his crewmates whenever he found himself a new ship. Pirates were a superstitious lot by nature, and most of their doubts quickly disappeared along with the bodies of any ambitious thieves serving among their ranks.<br/><br/>Leaning over the edge of the ship, he spotted himself one crate among the dozens that the Rotsman's crew were preparing to haul into the sky, flipped one of his daggers upside down to grasp its blade, and flung it directly into the container's wooden exterior. Even after all the other cargo was claimed, that one crate would remain untouched for days if he didn't come to take it personally.<br/><br/>His business concluded, the Crow tucked his remaining weapon into its sheath and folded his coat over top of it. When he turned around to take up his post once more, he was surprised to find that most of the crew's attention wasn't focused upon him or even the spoils of victory underneath their ship, but instead on the captain and an unfamiliar woman that he was speaking to. As he pushed his way through the crowd - a task made far easier by the fact that his clothing was almost made more of sharpened steel than it was of blackened leather - he only managed to catch the end of his captain's ramblings.<br/><br/>"...And who knows when we'll see another ship after that? Hey, Crow, you don't see another ship or two, do you?"<br/><br/>Ganelon shook his head. No ship was fast enough to catch him unaware in such a short period of time.<br/><br/>"He doesn't see another ship, so I have no way of getting rid of you, girl."<br/><br/>Before she could protest, the shouting of Yagos and his men signaled the end of their boarding mission. Much of the crowd dispersed to throw fishing nets down to the raided trade ship beneath until only Captain Rotter and his new prisoner remained. The Crow stood nearby and attempted to look involved enough to keep anyone from questioning why he wasn't helping bring in their latest haul, though he was really only there to appreciate the sight of a fine lady - something that was almost always in short supply aboard a flying ship. His captain, meanwhile, seemed to be contemplating another sort of booty altogether.<br/><br/>"I expect there will be salted ham on that vessel. Phoenicians are master tradesmen, who ferry all sorts of goods, so there could be anything on it really; daggers, knives, tantos, stilettos, hell, even a bejeweled kris or two, but Phoenicia itself is really only renowned for their pig farming, their sea salt, plus some river turtles that are getting strangely popular in academic circles. Even if they don't have valuables in their cargo, then we'll dine finely tonight. It's going to be rough for our chef, though. Girl, can you cook turtle soup? I don't trust you, but I trust the kitchen skills of the crew even less. If there's turtle or ham on that ship you can earn your life for the night. We'll dine, we'll laugh, we'll go to sleep with full bellies, and then I will most likely kill you in the morning. Deal?"<br/><br/>The two shook hands, and Ganelon couldn't find itself in him to protest their agreement, having "enjoyed" his crew's cooking more times than even the cruelest men deserved. He watched silently as the captain walked away to deal with more pressing matters, and uttered something to the woman before doing the same.<br/><br/>"Come 'n find me in the crow's nest once the crew's passed out drunk, lass. I might have some words t' get ye through the next day if'n ye survive that long."