The sun smiled, but Findor looked at it with hate. His lips cracked and bled. His skin shriveled. The desert wasn’t kind.

The boat swayed back and forth in the vast ocean. The navigator was dead. Fell off the side in the previous storm. Although they tried, no man could save him. They were lost. The captain marched back and forth across the deck but no sign or answer came to him. He continued on and on, as the men watched him. The only one working was the spotter, looking desperately for land.

In the distance, they all saw the storm coming back. Deep, dark clouds filled the distant sky. They rolled and turned over themselves in haste to devour the crew. The captain paced. The crew watched. No one could help them out here. They were helpless to the ocean’s whim.

Sir Arthur Kent was unparalleled in both mind and body or more accurately he thought he was. Truth is he was very paralleled and even surpassed. What Arthur was unparalleled in was narcissism with a dash of ego, which he used to great effect. The great effect of being hated by his peers.