As Ishmael and I spoke of many and weird things the Checkered Demon rode down through the Wyoming wastelands to share memories, discuss history, Cambodian archaeology and deliver gifts of the masculine kind:

A bottle of fine whiskey for Ishmael and a 1900 pattern British naval cutlass, produced in 1902, for James, perfect for repelling boarders and cutting down hoodrats in the dark halls of the old plantation house in case the Crackpot HQ is ever overrun by the seething hordes of the righteously oppressed...

Thank you, Sir.

This sword feels right in my hand, like an arm-breaking stick with a counterweight.