“Operation Bunbreaker II: Storm’s Sweet Revenge”
(Filed under Maelstrom Morale Reports, Classified but Hilarious)
🌩️ Scene I — The Summons
Word spreads through Limsa like spilled rum — the Admiral’s looking for me. And not in the “you’re promoted” way. In the “why is there frosting on my paperwork” way.
Two officers find me at the Drowning Wench. One clears his throat.
“The Admiral requests your presence.” “She want another pastry?” “She didn’t say. She just loaded her pistols.”
I finish my drink, straighten my coat, and whisper a prayer to Nald’thal.
⚓ Scene II — The Reckoning at the Helm
I arrive. Merlwyb’s standing there — hands clasped behind her back, expression set to ‘storm approaching.’
“You disrupted a briefing. You embarrassed my guards.” “In my defense, ma’am, spirits were low. I raised morale.”
Her eye twitches. She walks toward me like an oncoming ship. And I swear the air itself salutes.
Then, just as I’m about to test the respawn timer… She slides something across the table. A bun. Wrapped in parchment.
“Next time,” she says, “bring coffee.”
☠️ Scene III — Exit Strategy: The Bun Reversal
I salute so hard I almost lose balance.
“Aye aye, Admiral. Coffee and chaos, coming right up.”
As I leave, I hear it — the faint sound of laughter from her command table. Small. Genuine. Warm.
Status:
- Cinnamon bun truce established.
- Lalafell reputation: Chaotically neutral, pastry-affiliated.
- Merlwyb: Still pretending she’s not amused.
Moral: Sometimes diplomacy isn’t words. It’s baked goods and perfectly-timed audacity.
Filed and stamped by Jerry ‘The Ankle Biter’ Silverhand, Tribunal Chair (DPA)
Doctrine: Don’t bark — bill. Motto: I don’t flex, I calculate.