Redemption

You sunk.  I'll get you.  Down cyclopean steps into the sun ocean.  Privately agog, quite so, already mindful of the need for chopsticks to be weaponized.  Cantankerous ancient tortoise carapace to shield the Sea-Wolves' carnassials and green eyes.  Isolation asseveration, capacity to forfend calamity, lure of dank B.O.  Sirens of the Sea, drawn by my odorless pheromones carried by my stink, the townspeople chop tentacles.