Island Conomi Islands

[Lamby]

Conomi Islands #16
@Kaka​

The forest of death, trees rustling blissfully as the smog and sizzling stone of Arlong park polluted the air as an after effect of S's assault. Arlong was devastated at this and his embarrassment and shattered pride quickly turned into a sparkling rage. "THOSE DAMN HUMANS!" He exclaimed.

"HOW DARE THEY! WE ARE THE SUPERIOR RACE, RAVAGING MY PARK; THEY'VE GOT SOME NERVE!"

"Arlong-kun!" Sharply interjected Jimbe. Standing his ground his eyes dug straight into Arlong's disgraceful demeanor. "Wordon had just barely escaped certain death with Sam suffering horrible burns! What use is it to bark and rant whilst your subordinates are in poor condition. Kanung might as well be considered out of commission similarly to Sam. You saw the attack the same way I did, there's a serious threat and yet your leadership skills aren't reflecting what a proper warrior should."

"I didn't come here to rejoin your crew but to enjoy the company of my fellowmen. Give me Sam, I'll take care of him. I won't be staying to help you anyway."

"Jimbe! You can't... I need as much help as I can get." Pleaded Arlong.

"No. Just leave the injured with me. I won't help you anymore than this, your prejudice is misplaced. Times changed, humans don't all view us as less and our powers aren't to be doubted no longer."

"Tch- Even then, the people here. This, GAH!"

"Arlong." Interjected Wordon. "We've got to locate the Enemy, I trust Jimbe with Sam but when it comes to us; we have a common enemy."

Arlong was conflicted; it was just him and Wordon now. Jimbe had chosen his stance on the situation, he laid Sam's unconscious body in the clutches of his whaleshark "friend." He lead Wordon, the treaded back through the forest heading back north to the front of the park, using the flora as cover.

 

[Emperor Cross]

It has been months since Shaarib Hassan set foot on this forsaken island. He first arrived here, as a captain, barely above 170cm. A kid still finding his muscles, a kid still searching who he was. It was the first time our soldier doubted himself since entering the force.

The second time, Shaarib arrived as a messiah, a fresh Vice-Admiral or Real Admiral, a young man, full of himself; after eating a Mythical Devil Fruit. At that time he wasn’t afraid of anything, wounds dissolved at frightening speeds. A finger snap and Shaarib would be brand new. A phoenix, resplendent, illuminating the whole blue.

Each time, he came with a precise objective : Kill Arlong. As a rookie, the whole 169th failed miserably. The second time, Shaarib, in a fit of anger, destroyed Arlong Park and killed most of his crew. But despite his ridiculous powers, the birdman could not get his claws on Arlong. The pirate had ran away. Shaarib left with a bitter taste in his mouth. Telling himself the island would now be free of piracy and the people of said islands would come back.

Unfortunately, it did not happen like that. Focus on other things, it took a call from Fishman Island for the Skypiean to learn the news of Arlong coming back there for a new reign of tyranny. Add-on to that the fact that Jimbe, one’s dear to Shaarib’s heart was rumored to be helping them.

The legendary ensign, assigned to Dawn, stole a boat and navigated toward the island.

@Hiei

Spoiler: Stats

100 x 6 = 600

Strength: 60+(1x10)+(3x10)+5(MA)= 105

Speed: 70+(3x10)+5(MA)=105
105*2=210
-Reaction:105
-Movement:105

Vitality:80+(2x10)+5(MA)+15(DF)=120
120*2= 240
-Durability:120
-Stamina:120

Devil Fruit : 100 + 20

Haki : 100
100*2=200
Armament [Offensive]= 100+20
Observation [Awareness]= 100 +20
Conqueror

Martial Arts: 100=100
100*2=200
-Rokushiki : 100
- Fishman Karate :100
-Dials [PERK]

+20 x 3 = 60
Left : 30

 

[Hiei]

[CONOMI ISLANDS]​

Post 1 - @Emperor Cross ​

The sea is calm. Children laugh again along the village shores, and fishermen set sail without fear. The people no longer walk beneath the jaws of tyranny but the sea never forgets.

And neither does Arlong.

Once, he ruled here Saw-Shark Arlong, the terror of the East Blue, a symbol of Fishman superiority and cruel ambition. His laughter thundered across the waves, his trident planted like a flag of conquest in the very heart of Arlong Park.

But those days are gone.

The walls of Arlong Park now stand half-submerged and shattered, broken coral spires leaning like tired sentinels. The banners that once flew with pride now lie torn beneath creeping vines and salt-blasted debris.

And in the distance, near the shallows, Momoo, the loyal Sea Cow, stares at the sea with vacant eyes, ever waiting.

It all fell apart when Marine Shaarib returned.

Not the reckless pirate Arlong once knew but a hardened blade of justice, cloaked in Marine white and carrying the weight of every injustice he had endured under Arlong’s reign. He didn’t come for negotiation. He didn’t come to warn.

He came to end it.

The Arlong Pirates stood their ground. They fought back with all the fury of wounded beasts Kuroobi, Chuu, Hatchan they roared, raged, struck with all their might. And yet, one by one, they fell to Shaarib’s wrath, delivered with cold precision.

And then came Arlong himself.

The saw-toothed tyrant fought like a storm given form tooth and nail, fury and instinct, pride and hatred. His blows cracked the stone beneath them, his roars echoed into the depths, and he did not fall easily. He pushed Shaarib to his limits. He wounded him. Made him bleed.

But Shaarib never faltered.

And Arlong saw it in the man’s eyes not just strength, but clarity. The clarity of a man who had already seen the end, and simply come to make it real.

Arlong did not die that day.

He crawled from that battle battered, broken, bloodied his pride shattered like his trident but not undone. Not yet.

He vanished for weeks into the sea, deeper than he'd ever gone. Some say he fled to the ocean floor, others whisper he sought out old connections in the criminal underworld of the Grand Line.

But then, under the cover of night…

He returned.

To the wreckage of his old dominion. To Arlong Park.

Not to rebuild.

But to remember.

Now, he sits alone in the ruins of his throne, jagged coral in place of his once-polished seat. The silence does not mock him it teaches him. Every echo is a lesson. Every scar is a reminder.

He sharpens his teeth more often now. Not out of vanity but preparation.

He speaks to Momoo, not with orders, but with ideas. Dark ones. Ruthless ones. His ideology hasn’t died it’s evolving. His hatred hasn’t faded it’s growing smarter. No longer does he rage blindly against the world of humans.

Now, he plots.

“The surface forgot what it means to fear the sea,” he mutters.
“Next time… they won’t be so lucky.”

So the people of Conomi go about their lives, unaware that in the ruins just beyond the mangroves, a predator is licking his wounds, not to retreat… but to strike again when the time is right.

Because Arlong is not dead.

He’s waiting.

 

[Emperor Cross]

Shaarib Hassan was happy to have been gifted with tremendous ability in Mantra. He could feel most of the living things around him within a 400-meter radius. When he said feel, he meant he could see colors, the souls of what stood around him, and voices. And the feeling he had since arriving was not welcome.

The ensign stood in the sun, eyes glasses reflecting the rays but he was cold.​

He could feel the sadness and terror the villagers had experienced before their flight. Several months after the defeat of the fish-men, Shaarib stood in the middle of the same carnage he had once left behind. The houses in Gosa Village were still overturned. The path was still destroyed. Not a single person had set foot there. At least, not to live.

Shaarib knew he was being followed; ever since his arrival, he had let those spies soak in his stunning style. Black sandals, black pants, and a black jacket—very original. But what stood out was his blue T-shirt bearing the Kanji for Justice and his trusted law enforcement hat hiding the thick braids on his head. His wings wrapped around his waist, Shaarib was flipping through the many pages of an old, faded, and dusty book, tracing the lines with his fingers.

At first glance, one might have thought the soldier had trouble reading, but upon getting closer, one could see the two scars the bird-man had over his eyes. One could notice that although he seemed to be reciting prayers, his eyes were closed. Shaarib Hassan was blind. But not naïve. Fighters from the Ryugu Kingdom were there. And they owed him respect as a knight of that very same kingdom.

- " Ma ma, isn't it time to come greet me ?" ​

 

[Hiei]

[Conomi Island]​

Post 2 - @Emperor Cross ​

The winds over Gosa Village had not changed. Still dry. Still lifeless. Yet, Shaarib could feel it.

Not the breeze...but the shift.

There were new colors now. New souls stirring at the edge of the carnage. They had not made their presence known directly. They hadn’t needed to. Shaarib, guided by Mantra, felt them the way a blind man feels the sun through cracked glass...muted but present, and warm only with ill intent.

They weren’t villagers. They weren’t scavengers. And they weren’t here for peace.

He stood unmoved, black jacket catching the rays as his fingers traced over the old pages. His wings remained draped, his stance loose, his breath steady. But inwardly, his mind noted them one by one.

The first soul pulsed loudest. Like crashing waves during a red moon.

Kanung. A broad, towering red-skinned Fishman, his frame imposing and sculpted like a stone idol. He wore a casual summer outfit...an open floral shirt over a muscled chest, tattered shorts, and thick sandals stomping dry earth as though it were reef underfoot. From a distance, one might mistake him for relaxed. But his presence betrayed the truth: something violent barely suppressed beneath the calm.

The second was cold and calculated.

Wordon. A Fishman with a swordsman’s posture...lean and disciplined. His dark green hair was slicked back, and his bearing carried the quiet weight of someone forged in battle. A long coat fluttered behind him, and a sword rested lazily at his hip. There was sharpness to him—not just in his blade, but in his soul. One could sense the echoes of other great warriors in the way he moved. He did not walk so much as glide, each step measured like a tactician’s advance on enemy lines.

Then came the third. Smooth. Precise. Controlled.

Sam. Yellow-skinned and dressed in a formal crimson-red suit, worn over a deep blue shirt. His tie was loose, undone like a man returning from a funeral. Hair trimmed clean, shoes polished, his look clashed with the desolation around him...but not unintentionally. He wore elegance like armor, hiding the cruelty in his cold, sea-colored eyes.

They kept their distance.

They watched.

And Shaarib didn’t need to see them with his eyes to know why they were here.

They were Arlong’s.

Not his original crew....but the survivors of his vision. Recruited in the years after his fall, the ones he’d gathered in the shadows of the undersea world. When the world thought Arlong broken, he’d found others like him...those discarded by their kind, twisted by loss, sharpened by hate.

Shaarib didn’t move. He didn’t need to.

They weren’t here for him. Not yet.

But their arrival meant one thing.

The tide was rising again.

 

[Emperor Cross]

The riffraff refusing to move, Shaarib continued on his way. Hand in his pocket, eyes staring into the void. Shaarib was in search of another crew he was looking for Jimbei. Those people weren’t on his side, so if they didn’t come to him, he wasn’t going to waste his time on them. The average fishman, at least the pirate type, had a sense of superiority over the people who lived above the surface. If the three of them were holding back from approaching, it could only mean one thing: they must have known who the Marine was. Shaarib suspected as much. After the destruction caused in the New World against Hody Jones and the damage he had inflicted there, it was predictable.

The Marine had hoped to meet Jimbei or one of his crew members, but he had missed the opportunity. He now had to head to another village. The bird-man feared the knight might side with Arlong. He didn’t want to ask his new ally to choose between his turbulent past under Fisher Tiger and his present as a protector. Shaarib didn’t want it to come to that. Shedding a pirate’s blood was one thing, taking the life of someone respected was something else entirely.