Tarl Graytooth shifted uncomfortably as a splinter from the damaged deck stabbed his back. That was the least of his worries as his left arm dangled loosely, gobbets of blood slowly drying into red balloons that hung from his stained shirt. Alas, the battle was worth it; there was food aboard again! The bloody chunk of meat left a trail of juice in his beard. Fine cuts of meat could be gained from the chest and shoulders. Better still the fatty thighs. But the best, ah, the dessert of meats, was the dead pirate’s calves, which tasted just like veal.