The Great Sael Adventure 1
Dejected and utterly perturbed that you would accuse him of being a fraud, The Commodore gasps and throws his calloused hand over his pert, muscular chest.
After composing himself, The Commodore looks past you and mutters, "Indeed." He reaches into his Ghurka brand, monogrammed leather satchel, retrieving a leather, monogrammed Fossil wallet, from which he pulls out a membership card, which he holds up proudly and says, "10 years ago I was accepted into the Pourt-o'-Carl-oat-a Honest Gentlemen's Society, and I have since been knighted within their esteemed organization. I am a man of worth and truth, and the fact that you cower under such integrity shows your true worth."
The Commodore draws his monogrammed push dagger from an Il Bisonte leather scabbard built into his tight leather pants (it's really more of a specialty pocket, you suppose). He slowly pulls the tapered blade out from its tight holding place. You see the opening of the sheath grow larger, then smaller as the blade is removed. You see it hunger for the return of what belongs to it, it seems to pucker and call out for the blade once more, never satisfied.
The Commodore points the dagger at you, moves closer, and presses the blade against the soft, forgiving flesh of your chest. You look into his eyes. They are not so forgiving. He walks you to the edge of the catamaran, pushing you up against the shallow gunwale. He pokes just hard enough to draw a bead of bright red blood from just above your heart. You begin to sweat.
The Commodore unceremoniously pushes you overboard the catamaran, maniacally shouting "I will not tolerate such dishonesty about my Catamaran!" This proclamation moistens part of the ship as his saliva ejects in every direction from his mouth.
The boat continues on without you, the Commodore not even turning back to look at the havoc he has wreaked upon you. As you stare certain death in the face, you say to yourself, "I should never have doubted such a valiant man." The waves of Your Lady, the Sea take you home to your eternal rest.
After composing himself, The Commodore looks past you and mutters, "Indeed." He reaches into his Ghurka brand, monogrammed leather satchel, retrieving a leather, monogrammed Fossil wallet, from which he pulls out a membership card, which he holds up proudly and says, "10 years ago I was accepted into the Pourt-o'-Carl-oat-a Honest Gentlemen's Society, and I have since been knighted within their esteemed organization. I am a man of worth and truth, and the fact that you cower under such integrity shows your true worth."
The Commodore draws his monogrammed push dagger from an Il Bisonte leather scabbard built into his tight leather pants (it's really more of a specialty pocket, you suppose). He slowly pulls the tapered blade out from its tight holding place. You see the opening of the sheath grow larger, then smaller as the blade is removed. You see it hunger for the return of what belongs to it, it seems to pucker and call out for the blade once more, never satisfied.
The Commodore points the dagger at you, moves closer, and presses the blade against the soft, forgiving flesh of your chest. You look into his eyes. They are not so forgiving. He walks you to the edge of the catamaran, pushing you up against the shallow gunwale. He pokes just hard enough to draw a bead of bright red blood from just above your heart. You begin to sweat.
The Commodore unceremoniously pushes you overboard the catamaran, maniacally shouting "I will not tolerate such dishonesty about my Catamaran!" This proclamation moistens part of the ship as his saliva ejects in every direction from his mouth.
The boat continues on without you, the Commodore not even turning back to look at the havoc he has wreaked upon you. As you stare certain death in the face, you say to yourself, "I should never have doubted such a valiant man." The waves of Your Lady, the Sea take you home to your eternal rest.
