“Operation Bunbreaker: The Admiral Breakfast Incident”
(Filed under Maelstrom Humor Logs, Limsa Lominsa Dockyard Edition)
⚓ Scene I — Arrival of the Potato
The fog over Limsa is thick enough to chew when one (1) Lalafell emerges from it: boots squeaking, jacket too big, ego perfectly tailored.
Mission: deliver “morale pastries” to the Admiral herself.
Two guards cross halberds.
“State yer business, sailor.”
“Breakfast. Not betrayal,” I said.
They blink. I walk in. Because confidence is the best stealth skill in Eorzea.
🥐 Scene II — The Cinnamon Bun Offensive
Inside the war room, Admiral Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn stands like the horizon in uniform form — voice like cannonfire, eyes like undertow.
I hop onto a crate, producing one perfectly-glazed cinnamon bun as if presenting an artifact of the Twelve.
“Ma’am, with respect — even the fiercest tide needs sugar.”
The room stops. A bosun coughs. Merlwyb stares me down so hard my soul files for shore leave. Then—just barely—she laughs.
“You’ve got gall, little one.”
“Aye, Admiral. And frosting," I said.
✋ Scene III — High Five of Destiny
The moment hits. I throw up my hand. Challenge issued.
She doesn’t hesitate. SLAP. Sound carries across the deck, through the Wench, straight into myth. A gull falls from the sky in disbelief.
“That’s my girl!” I yell.
“Mind your tongue, sailor,” she says—
but her grin betrays her.
🌊 Scene IV — After-Action Report
Maelstrom Incident Log #42069
- Cinnamon bun: Delivered (successfully).
- Admiral Merlwyb: Unbothered / Possibly Flustered.
- Guards: Emotionally compromised.
- Lalafell: Still alive (by miracle or mercy).
Moral: You can’t seduce a storm. But you can make it laugh— and that’s how legends are born in Limsa.
Filed and stamped by Jerry ‘The Ankle Biter’ Silverhand, Tribunal Chair (DPA)
Doctrine: Don’t bark — bill.
Motto: I don’t flex, I calculate.