A bright blue marlin tore through the air. An apex predator made of water, it curved around, hunting for its prey. The torpedo shaped body accelerated towards the marine woman, deadly rostrum aimed right at her heart. Propelled by Gerald's massive hammer swing, she had just left a crater in the carnival ground when the mass of water crashed into her.
Its savage purpose concluded, the water making up the flying marlin splashed down onto the ground, filling the hole that the marine's flight had created.
Yomai made his unwavering stance clear when he expressed his strong opposition to collaborating with pirates, emphasizing that such alliances were far from his preferred course of action. However, he added that he would be willing to make an exception in case the collaboration was for the purpose of disciplining a wayward and unruly child .
"Wahaha, we showed that spoiled brat, aye. But I gotta agree with me young colleague, we ought ta beat it before more fuzz shows up. Ya coming with? If ya get caught here, they'll call you an accomplice."
An extended hand underlined his offer of camraderie. Bill had known the life of a legit fighter on the seas before, and the potential stain working with pirates could leave on your reputation. But associating with the marines was the fastest way to get branded a criminal, as he knew from his own past, and so he wasn't too keen on getting caught either.
He aimed his marlinespike once again, and fired a bunch of small shots of water. One flew towards the downed marine, just to be sure, but he fired the rest up into the air.
He made to leave, trying to slip into the crowd. With a hand in front of his mouth, he imitated the squeal of a scared woman: "Kya, them guys ran into the island,aye!"
As the water shots he fired into the air rained down, carefully aimed to hit barrels and empty stalls leading a trail inland, he started running to the shore. One of the drops hit the base plate of the high striker game one aisle over, and via a lever propelled the small pellet up to ring the bell a second time that day.
"Gah, its pirates! Someone call the marines!"
"Is it a pirate raid?"
"Where are they?"
"I hear they are already fighting with the marines!"
"I saw a marine that wasn't fighting. He was just watching!"
"We're all gonna die!"
"Shut up and let me enjoy my drink."
"Its a small island, where are we even running to?"
"Patrol 5 reporting in, we're on the way."
Panic had crawled through the crowds like a viral infection, and now the immune response was closing in. Marines from all over the island were converging on the street where the Sweet Pirates vacation expedition had met their resistance. "Its the cops, lads! We gotta cut and run!"
Bill's Marlinespike pointed towards the shore, honing in on the port they had arrived in like a compass needle. He dropped the harpoon and chain he was holding in the middle of their little group. "Let me show youse a neat trick. Hehe."
His free hand undid the topmost of the golden studs keeping his blue striped shirt closed before bracing against his other arm. The rest of the pairs of metal fasteners began undoing themselves on their own, like unraveling seams running down his torso and towards his arms, opening up like a T and revealing the grimy undershirt beneath. It was as if the shirt itself was alive and receding to his back.
The Marlinspike was definitely alive. No taxidermied animal could look that fierce. Or move, for that matter. The Spearfish had opened its mouth wide, the maw that had shot those devastating water bullets. Bill's breath came out as a little cloud as the air temperature rapidly dropped. He inhaled sharply. And then his weapon roared.
In a blatant disregard for the laws of conservation of mass a massive, booming beam of water was shooting out of the jaws of Lear, the cursed Marlinspike. The white, ice cold current arced through the air, and dropped down somewhere in the harbour.
Rocky Road to Dublin
61 Gunslinging, 61 Cursed Marlinspike, "Lear" (DPR B) (ranged)
Like a dragon´s breath attack, the Marlinspike releases a massive stream of water from it´s mouth, more than could ever be contained in a water compaction capsule, creating a water current flying through the air that fishmen can use to travel through for 2 turns.
Bill turned around to the other members of the crew. His shirt had stopped falling off him, and was now unfurling behind his back like two wings. No, they weren't wings, they were fins, twin sailfish fins ringed with the golden studs that had kept them closed like a shirt. Each fin had a skull tatoo, reminiscient of false eyes on butterflies. Purple stripes on his ribcage shone through his white undershirt, a sign of agitation among Billfish species. Gills on his shoulders fluttered when he nodded his head to the chain on the ground. "Hold on if ya wanna get to the ship."
He jumped backwards into the water current, and the chain began pulling off into the distance with the speed of the fastest fish species in the ocean. Whoever wanted to get onto the Sweet Pirates' ship would have to react fast.
Fishmen get +1 bracket for physical stats under water, so Bill is now moving at
100 Massively Hypersonic+ Speed
Above the port, just before the flying current began to peter out, Bill exited the water column at high speed. He aimed for the rigging of the Cotton Blossom, catching himself in a climbing net. He cut free a sail and swung down onto the deck on a sheet. He bellowed, ostensibly in anticipation of an order from Gerald, who was in charge of the boat, for the swabbies to show some leg. "Anchors aweigh, we're leaving port again! Avast, me hearties!"
Now that he finally had some time, Bill took a look at the papers he had fished out of the marine woman's hands. There it was. His bounty poster. And the amount... 45 thousand? What a low amount for her to make such a fuss ab-... There were more zeroes on the paper. 45 million?! The perpetual carefree smile wiped itself from his face. This was serious money! He could retire comfortably if he had that kind of money! Maybe he could find another old guy off the street that looked like him, or he could sell himself and smuggle a file into the lockup cell...
His berry symbol shaped eyes searched the poster again and froze. That picture, it was the one he had sent in to get his fishing license renewed. The marines must have put some serious resources into getting information about him. He might not be able to get out again if they ever caught him. They wouldn't just put him into the drunk tank like usual. He'd have to find someone else to get caught for him. He turned to the next poster. It was for Gerald, who was worth even more! One could live like a king on a bounty like that.
The smile returned to his eyes. The golden boy had really made it in the world, it seemed. He fished out the bottle of champagne he had won on their little excursion. "Let's crack open this bottle and celebrate! Who needs a party city when you can drink out at sea! Our Gerald got a great bounty, and this poster is going on the fridge!"
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