Ye ocelot bounded out of the bush, seized me fine tricorn brim and dashed off into the grass. Ye first time twas endearing but the cursed half-deer half-aggravating vermin had been playing this game for days.
Though I’d attempted to blast the thing’s skull from off its neck I’d so far fallen short. Oftentimes I’d fallen in a river. At length the brute’d return it and prance gaily about. Gaargh, how I long to eat the creature.
Blood dripped from the sails like magic rain. Captain Fatbeard’s expedition had ended in disaster. Doves, or rather, pieces of doves continued to land on the deck in soft thuds.
The Captain finally overcomes his poppy habit and gets on with the important job of rescuing his crew from the clutches of Admiral Kneehorn where he holds ’em at… The Bastard’s Fate. No, tis not a fayre.
The Grim Bastard, our noble ship, seemed bound for a sad landing. We saw the murderous water from way off, but like a grotesque and many breasted tramp it was
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