[Episode] Ickarus Takes Flight! Battle at Pline Peaks!

Quest Request:

“Are you sure, Ickarus?”

“Of course, Iapix. I will be fine!” the man named Ickarus said, smiling and adjusting his brown fur coat. “You don’t need to baby me anymore, you know. Wah-yayayaya!”

“But if Candlelight sinks-”

“Tell you what, if my ship sinks, I’ll come back and pay you fifty thousand Belly.”

The two men collapsed in hysterical laughter, Ickarus’s Wah-yaya’s mixing with Iapix’s Fweh-heh-heh-ho’s in a joyful rhythm. Despite being fourteen years apart, the two were infamous for their brotherly affection for each other as well as their ingenuity when it came to their traditional trades. Then again, this was Therma Current they lived on; it was the home of nearly all master inventors, woodworkers, and metalworkers on the South Blue.

“She’s not going anywhere,” he proclaimed, pounding firmly on the ship’s hard iron hull as if to show how firm his handiwork was. “Don’t give me that look, Iapix! I just told you I’m going to be fine!”

“Yeah, just like you were ‘fine’ when Dad was killed by those pirates three years ago,” Iapix retorted, bringing the predicament back to reality.

A chill stuttered through the air. Ickarus felt the scars on his back tingle. “Iapix,” Ickarus said, “how dare you use him against me now? You know why I’m doing this. I am avenging Daedalus.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Dad would be thrilled to know the son he saved and raised from childhood is becoming a pirate to murder innocent people of his own race for revenge.”

“I am not Skyfolk!” Ickarus thundered, now enraged. “[dass]You would never understand, Iapix! You can never understand! My parents thought I was so worthless they cast me down to the seas. Because of them, I was forced to sail with those barbarians. Because of them, I had to escape here! Because of them, Daedalus is dead, Iapix, dead![cmt]This is heavy stuff to unpack. You need to earn the unpacking of emotional baggage. Don't dump it in the very first scene. You're wasting potential emotional impact because the reader has no reason to be invested in Ickarus' backstory yet.[/cmt][/dass]”

Iapix stood silent for a moment. “And nothing I can do will change your thoughts, Ickarus?”

“Nothing,” Ickarus fumed.

Iapix looked away from his brother, and Ickarus turned as well. After a few seconds, Ickarus heard sandy footsteps going away from Candlelight and himself, and Ickarus nearly collapsed under the weight of what he had just done.

Worthless, Ickarus thought. Stupid, worthless boy. That may be the last time you ever see the person who cares most about you, and you send him off like that?

Ickarus continued thinking these thoughts as he deposited crate after crate of food, water, and materials of his trades onto the small craft.

-----

The next morning Ickarus set sail without having seen any of the residents of Therma Current off. He reckoned that his brother would tell them where and why he had left. It pained Ickarus to imagine the villagers’ reactions whenever they realized the castaway boy who had lived on their island for sixteen years had just left to take revenge for his adoptive father’s death.

“I want this more than anything,” Ickarus said to himself. “So why do I feel so much conflict?”

It had been two weeks since Ickarus had drifted off alone. Every time he stopped his body for more than a few minutes, his thoughts drifted to the darkest recesses of his mind.

Worthless.

Unwanted.

Unneeded!

Unworthy of Daedalus, Iapix, and the rest of Therma Current!

Ickarus struck the wooden deck of Candlelight. A small fracture appeared at his punch, and his knuckle began to bleed. “Curses,” Ickarus grunted.

Calling upon his special Devil Fruit power, he mended the crack in the deck by filling it with his wax. [dass]As a small boy, Ickarus had consumed the Doru Doru no Mi, making him a Waxman who could produce and control the wax he excreted from his body[cmt]This information could've been saved for later. The reader doesn't immediately need to know what the ability is (yes, even though they can see it in your profile). Build some mystery. Not all details need to be exposed right away. I'm noticing this is a trend already.[/cmt][/dass]. Unfortunately, it also stole his ability to swim, which was what disturbed Iapix the most about Ickarus’s new life as a seafarer.

You’re becoming a pirate to murder innocent people! Iapix’s words boomed through Ickarus’s mind.

“I am not a pirate,” Ickarus insisted to no one. “I’m only a man out for justice. That makes me closer to a marine than anything.”

A nagging voice took the tone of Iapix in his head. Is killing innocents really justice?

“Shut up, Iapix,” Ickarus muttered. His heart wrenched, and Ickarus yearned for something to make him laugh, even a little. Laughing was what helped the most when he felt at his lowest. Yet the voice of Iapix in his mind continued to speak.

You are sailing on an unregistered armored boat, the voice said, on a mission for self-proclaimed justice of your definition. Does that make you a marine, or a pirate?

“Urgh!” Ickarus grunted, clawing his head and mussing his white-grey hair even more than it already was.

Pirates were the murderers of our father. You are going on a mission to kill dozens of fathers, mothers, and children! Does that really make you the deliverer of justice to the Skypieans-

“Shut up, Iapix!” Ickarus shouted, repeating his words from a few moments ago into the air. A gull who had perched on his stern during his breakdown fled in fear, and Ickarus watched it glide away from the terrifying scream.

Ickarus stared at it, numb. “Even the wildlife doesn’t think I’m worth staying around.” He knew the statement was stupidly illogical, but that didn’t stop him from believing it. Ickarus sat frozen, still as his father’s dead body. After several minutes he got up and began sifting through his materials in a desperate attempt for distraction.

And like a flash, the smiling, happy front Ickarus usually wore returned. He stood at the built-in forge he had been sure to include in his ship, pounding away at a sheet of thick metal. For hours he worked, forcefully molding and carefully crafting the metal into a final product: a cylinder with an inch-and-a-half diameter that spanned three feet.

“Wah-yayayaya,” Ickarus giggled, as a child would in a treats store. “For the moment of truth…”

Ickarus put a palm on each end of the lengthy pole and pushed inwards. The beam collapsed into a smaller cylinder only a foot long.

“Wah-yayayayayayayaya! It worked!” Ickarus laughed freely. “A dense baton in its collapsed form…” Ickarus then pushed a button, springing the ends loose and expanding it into its original three-foot length. “...or a lengthy walloping stick in its expanded form!”

Ickarus remembered his late father’s disciplinary tool of choice: A hollow metal pole that he would whack Iapix and Ickarus with for misbehavior. Daedalus had called it his “walloping stick.”

Upon these reflections, Ickarus allowed himself a smile, neglecting to dwell upon what his father would think of his current motives. He collapsed the baton while speaking to it. “I’m naming you Candlestick. Wah-yayayaya…and look there! You fit right inside Dad’s coat!”

The brown coat Icarus wore was made of the pelt of a bull Daedalus had hunted once long ago. The day pirates came and laid waste to the third of the island where Ickarus lived, murdering Daedalus in the process, was the day that Ickarus burned his Skyfolk-born wings off and discovered the coat to cover his scars up with.

Now, more than a cover for his scars, he used it as a utility belt, with his miniature welding torch and goggles, Daedalus Shield (a foldable steel riot shield of Daedalus’s invention), and now Candlestick stored inside. Ickarus also stored some bandages of his own invention which he called Nourishing Bandages, due to their ability to progressively heal severe wounds they were wrapped over.

Gurrrrgggle. Ickarus looked down at his bare stomach in surprise. “Hungry, pal?” he said, chuckling at his childishness. “Let’s see what we’ve got left in the pantry…”

Doom. One-hundred percent, undeniably empty. Apart from some dragon fruits his brother had packed (Ickarus hated them; their color inside the fruit reminded him of eating his Devil Fruit, which was not a pleasurable experience), there was nothing left in the bins.

“Ah. That’s…an issue.” Ickarus said, scratching his nose. “What about the water jugs?”

Doom. Only droplets left.

Ickarus stood slack-jawed for a moment. Well… he thought, Dad and Iapix both always told me I tend to stress eat…I should’ve had enough food for another week! Am I going to starve?

Ickarus raced up to the deck where he was greeted by the late-night sky. “I wasn’t working that long, was I?” he said, more desperate than anything. He strained to look as far as he could into the distance, but he could no longer separate the sea from the sky.

Ickarus was then stuck with a shocking realization. “I don’t know where the heck I am!”

The dawning of this tidbit of information upon his mind caused him to collapse in uncontrollable giggles. “Wah-wah-wah-yayayayayayayayayaya!” he hysterically whooped. “Wah-ya–Wah-ya–Wah-yayayayayaya!”

When he finally recovered, Ickarus wiped his eyes of the tears of laughter from his eyes and glanced towards the horizon again.

Gurrrrrrggggle. His stomach demanded food that Ickarus did not have to give. “Sorry, old pal,” he said, dejected as he patted his stomach. “I’ll fix this. Just…tomorrow. I’ll get us to landfall tomorrow.”

Ickarus stumbled into his quarters, finally admitting his weariness to himself. “I need…sleep. And…and a navigator.”

And with that, Ickarus dozed off.

As the dawn rose on a new day, Ickarus dragged his hungry and thirsty body from his rock-hard bed and stumbled onto the deck. He collapsed, barely having the energy to stand.

Guuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrglllleeeeeee. “Bud, I know you’re hungry.” Gurrrrggggle. “Please be quiet, you kept me up half the night.” Guuuuurrrgggggle. “Ugh.”

Despite his hopes that a good night's rest would help ease his pangs for nutrients, they clearly did not. In fact, as he attempted to swallow some of his saliva, he noted that his throat was ten times more dry than it was yesterday, and his stomach’s impatient grumbles seemed to last longer.

After what felt like an eternity, Ickarus succumbed to his body’s weariness once more and fell back asleep. When he awoke again, he felt an unpleasant stinging on his skin and the sun was at high noon.

Ickarus gently tapped his face. “Wah-yayaya,” he chuckled lowly. “Sunburn and starvation. What a lovely treat.”

Somehow he found the energy to drag himself unsteadily to his feet, where he lurched a bit to the soft rocking motion of the waves. Ickarus looked around in a daze, half forgetting he was supposed to be looking for land. He stumbled to the helm and leaned against the railing unsteadily.

“If this is only a single sunrise,” he said, “how bad is it about to get before I find an island or die?”

Ickarus dawdled some more, and then began to sing for no particular reason other than he felt like it. His delirium also played no small part in his “musical talents.”

“Gather up all of the crew!” Ickarus hollered. “It’s time to ship out Bink’s brew!”

He giggled a little bit before continuing to prance around the deck, voice stumbling through more lyrics. “Sea wind blows. To where? Who knows? The waves will be our guide!”

Ickarus stopped and allowed himself to wisely reflect on the irony of that verse. “To where? Who knows, I don’t know! Wah-yayayayayaya!”

He fell onto the deck, bent double from laughter. In the corner of Ickarus’s mind that was still rational, thoughts raged a war against delirium for control. What’s wrong with me? the rationality demanded. I am making a fool of myself! Get it together! But…I need food! Water!

He pulled his starved musings together long enough to crawl over to the banister on the starboard side. Ickarus hoisted himself up and surveyed the horizon desperately. Then…there! There! Dark spots amongst the endless green of the sea and blue of the sky!

“Land ho!” Ickarus proclaimed to the empty ship. “Land ho! Land ho! I’m not gonna starve! I’m not gonna die of thirst! Wah-yayayayayayaya!”

The revelation of land kickstarted Ickarus’s mind back into a rational sense, and he began to prepare to shift direction and coast towards the newly spotted island. He was fortunate; the wind, too, was in his favor. With a manic thrill, he shouted his declaration of land one final time before drawing within two hundred yards of the island.

If he squinted, Ickarus could make out a small port against the dramatically hilly landscape behind it. Beyond thrilled, he began to actually paddle with his hands.

-----

“What is that fool doing?” one island patroller asked his mate. Through his spyglass, he could see a grown man laughing uncontrollably while uselessly paddling his boat towards the port.

“I dunno, but we’ve gotta find out before we let him dock here. This patrol hasn’t let a single pirate in since that crew sixteen years ago!” The man who responded to the first patroller was older than the other, with white hair striping his receding brown hairline.

“Aye, aye,” the first said. As soon as the strange man on the boat–the boat had the word Candlelight inscribed on the side of it–was in hearing range, the patroller raised his voice to a shout. “You there! What is your business in Touchport, village on Pline Peaks?”

-----

“Please let me dock!” Ickarus cried back. “Please! I haven’t eaten or drank since yesterday morning. I’m dying!”

He may have exaggerated a tiny bit, but who cares? He was indeed going to die if he wasn’t able to dock here and get something to eat.

Ickarus watched as the two men atop the limestone watchtower conversed with one another. Finally, the older of the two stepped forward once more. “Sonny,” he yelled, “we’ll let you dock and we’ll get you some food and drink, but you’ll need to give us identification afterwards, got it?”

“Yes! Yes sir! Will do!” Ickarus shouted, knowing very well no such identification existed. He would have to forge something, or think on his feet. Luckily, he was very good at the latter option.

After tending to his needs, the two patrollers introduced themselves as Klarion (the younger one) and Gohn (the senior). Ickarus, however, was too busy stuffing his mouth with sake and rice to respond.

“Awh muh lawrd,” Ickarus mumbled through his mouthful, “thith es sohm gud sakeh!”

“Er-Well, I would hope so,” Klarion said, somewhat offended but otherwise amused. “We get special shipments from the West Blue every month or so. That’s our share, but we agreed to give it-OUCH!” Gohn had delivered a firm smack to the back of Klarion’s head.

Ickarus stopped halfway through slopping more sake down his throat. He swallowed properly as Gohn spoke, glaring at his counterpart. “We saw you in need and decided you needed it more than we did, sonny. What’s your name, anyhow?”

“Ickarus,” he replied, “but why? You don’t know me. And you only get this stuff every so often. What would’ve been wrong with giving me water instead?”

“Your needs were more prevalent than our own, son.”

“Well, I don’t care,” Ickarus decided, digging through his coat. “I’m paying you back for this, and then I have to go get supplies before launching again.”

“Whoa, hold it, Ickarus!” Klarion blurted as Ickarus placed a decent amount of Belly on the table. “You still need to show us your identification and registration for that ship before we can let you go.”

“Oh, yeah! Well, about that, wah-yayaya…” Ickarus said, laughing to cover up his nervousness. He decided to go for the truth, or at least, a portion of it.

Gohn’s eyes narrowed. “Ickarus, if you don’t have any sort of [dass]ID or registration, we’ll have to report you to the Marines[cmt]That's not quite how this works. Licenses or IDs for ships would likely only come into play under the following circumstances:
- You are operating a large vessel with combat capabilities.
- You are operating a vessel carrying a substantial amount of trade goods.
- You are operating an official government or navy vessel.

You wouldn't necessarily need a license or registration just to travel on your own ship.[/cmt][/dass].”

“No! Wait, please!” Ickarus begged, exercising his creative skills (also known as, ahem, lying). “You-you don’t understand! I was hit by a bad storm while I was heading across the South Blue for some treatment for my mother. You see, she’s really ill, and I accidentally left my gear at home in my rush. All my provisions were knocked overboard during the storm, and I couldn’t find my registration, either! I think it blew away as well, I had it on the deck for this very reason.”

Something about this young man seemed off to Gohn, but Klarion was completely sold. “Oh. Well, Ickarus, I thank you for your generosity, and I wish you the best of luck in future endeavors!”

“Hold up, Klarion,” Gohn grumbled. He took a closer look at Ickarus and the former Skyfolk’s heart caught in his throat. “Sonny, don’t you want a shirt? Or at least some socks? [dass]It’s January, for goodness’ sake[cmt]This is an inevitable worldbuilding pitfall, honestly. Seasons and climates in One Piece are inconsistent as it is. If we were to say that South Blue is indeed south and compare it to the real world, January would be the peak of summer, if anything.[/cmt][/dass].”

Considering himself lucky, Ickarus declined the shirt but took some socks, dashed out of the watchtower, and emerged into the quiet town of Touchport. It was around two thirty in the afternoon.

Ickarus strolled through the lazy village, peering into shop fronts made of weather-beaten stones, creaking wook, or chipped bricks. Everything in the small town screamed beat-down, but despite that, the odd few people Ickarus passed in the cold seemed undeniably cheerful. In fact, the entirety of Touchport seemed to radiate happiness. Even more happiness than a contented small town should be able to produce.

Ickarus stopped a young woman on her way somewhere to inquire about the general uplifted mood.

“Oh, dear, you aren’t from around here, are you?” she said in response. “Well, even if Touchport is usually a fun town, it must seem more so today because the mayor of Pline Peaks with his daughter are touring the island!”

“Pardon my asking, but why is it such a large deal that an entire village would be uplifted?” Ickarus asked, careful to keep any tones of skepticism out of his voice. This was crucial information that he may need later when escaping the island without identification.

“Mayor Pline–oh yes, the island is named after his family line, sorry–usually makes stops around the island twice a year for a few days in each town,” she explained. “This year, though, his daughter is coming with him as well! She normally sticks to their home at the top of the middle peak, so seeing her just uplifts the rest of us!”

She paused to sneeze. Ickarus, still confused, opened his mouth to speak again, but the woman cut over him. “Oh, yes, I’m sorry, I forgot to mention a big detail! You see, Laney Plines (that’s her name) is also known as the Shield of the Peaks! She’s our defender in case anything goes wrong around here.”

Ickarus took this into consideration. “Oh, interesting!” he said, acting impressed. “I’m sure having such a tangible reminder of Pline Peaks’s strength would cause an uplift in spirits.”

“Mmhmm! Now, if you don’t mind, sir–what’s your name? Ah, Ickarus–If you don’t mind, Ickarus, I must be off! Lots of grocery shopping to do.”

Groceries, Ickarus thought. Perfect.

“Ma’am!” he called to her retreating form. She turned back in curiosity. “May I come with you to the market? I need to retrieve some supplies before I leave port tomorrow.”

Her face brightened. “Of course!”

She led him down to the market, where he found the majority of the people out and about. Around a dozen or so booths were set up with things like meat, vegetables, water, and fruit stored. Each food item was plentifully stocked; Ickarus noted that this probably meant the harvest was better this year than usual, causing the people to sell more during the winter. Thus, he deduced, the prices must be lower.

“Hello, Igaroff!” the cheery woman said, motioning for Ickarus to follow. Igaroff, as the booth owner’s name was, seemed to be the primary butcher. “This fellow needs a restock for his boat before he sets out to sea tomorrow! Do you have any provisions right now, sweetie?”

“Er, no ma’am, no sir, I don’t have anything. I almost starved making it here, wah-yayayayaya!” Ickarus laughed in an attempt to lighten the air. Igaroff grunted in response, then began to speak.

“Best I can do is five hundred Belly for a pound o’ chicken, thousand for beef, seven fifty for assorted seafoods,” Igaroff grunted. Ickarus’s jaw dropped at the downright absurd prices.

“But sir,” Ickarus tried, “don’t you think those prices are…a bit steep?”

“What can’uh say, kid?” Igaroff said. “Meat is expensive.”

The woman and Igaroff shared a glance as Ickarus glanced over at the other booths. No other butcher stands…how odd, he thought.

“I’m sorry, Mister Igaroff, but I have to decline. I’m a bit low on Belly right now, so I think I’ll opt for some different food options.” Ickarus attempted to word his apology just right in order not to offend. It was imperative that he not raise any suspicion, doubt, or animosity among the townsfolk so that he could slip away at any given moment with no hitch.

Igaroff only grunted.

—--

“One head of lettuce will set you back four hundred Belly, child.”

“Half pound of apples? Six hundred Belly.”

“You want a small jug of water, hun? A thousand seven fifty, baby.”

What in the world is wrong with this town’s prices? Ickarus wondered in disbelief. Not even in the height of economic stress in Therma Current did I ever see food this expensive!

Suddenly, it hit Ickarus like a freight train. “Um, ma’am?” he said to the young lady meekly. He took note that she held no bags herself, despite telling him that she was shopping as well.

“Mmm?”

“Would you mind if I left to do some shopping on my own? There must be some place around town that sells for less,” said Ickarus.

“Aw, I’m sorry, but everywhere else is closed for the Plines’ arrival! You may have to wait for tomorrow.”

Ickarus sighed internally while watching this woman put on this act of hospitality. He thought he had her and the shopkeepers’ strategy nailed down, but he had to make sure. “Well, that’s what I’ll have to do, then. I’ll have to see you around!”

The woman looked disappointed, but Ickarus no longer believed it had anything to do with him. “Oh, well, be sure to catch the mayor and his daughter’s procession! Once in a lifetime, I tell you!”

“Of course!” Yeah, right. Ickarus thought and said two very different things. As soon as he was out of her sight, he went and hid behind a nearby wall and listened in to the shopkeepers’ discussion with the woman.

“Come on, Amilee, most days you do better than tha’!” Ickarus recognized the butcher’s deep and accented tone.

“Tough break for both of us, Igaroff. The kid was sharper than most. He almost certainly caught on. Hiking up prices isn’t easy!” The young woman!

“Well,” another shopkeeper sighed, “at least we’ll probably get some normal business whenever the Plines arrive.”

Ickarus smiled nastily, [dass]satisfied that his theory had been proven correct[cmt]Honestly, this scam felt heavily manufactured and shoe-horned in rather than being alluded to from the start. It wasn't even the woman who tricked Ickarus into going shopping with her. Ickarus asked her randomly if he could come.

You didn't even really need the woman for the shopping scene. I'm not sure if you've travelled much, but in places where haggling is common, it's almost best practice for grocers and shopkeepers to hike up their prices for people who are very obviously not locals.[/cmt][/dass]. He slung deeper into the shadows, a plot of thievery hatching in his mind. After all, they did attempt to rob him. Why shouldn’t he return the favor?

—--

“Ladies and gentlemen…” The procession leaders’ loud voice carried even to where Ickarus was crouched near the market booths. Ickarus painstakingly watched and listened as Igaroff finished storing the booth’s meat in an oversize cooler. Finally, Igaroff hurried towards the procession, not wanting to miss the daughter’s arrival.

Ickarus waited five minutes while the procession leader continued to yammer on about Pline pride this, nationalism that, and finally, he shouted, “...and because of that, ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honor to introduce you to the mayor of Pline Peaks, Oplius Pline, and his beautiful daughter, our defender…Laney Pline!”

Dashing out from his hiding place, Ickarus reckoned he was safe from lurking eyes, since the entirety of Touchport was undoubtedly putting all their attention on the Shield of the Island, as the young woman Amilee had called her.

Ickarus created about a half dozen large, [dass]flexible bags out of wax[cmt]This feels like a nonsensical application of the fruit even by One Piece standards.[/cmt][/dass], concentrating to get the shape right. Satisfied with his work, he began loading pounds upon pounds of meat, animal products, vegetables, and fruits into the bags. After filling each almost to overflowing, Ickarus stepped back and wiped the waxy sweat off of his forehead, flicking a few of his bangs back and feeling his welding goggles upon his head.

I really need to cut my hair soon. It might get in the way of my metalwork, he thought, gathering two bags and slinging them across his back. And…have I had my goggles on since I finished last night? Oh well…

Ickarus dashed back and forth on back roads bordering the ocean water, transporting the massive bags to his ship. After loading the first pair of bags, he dashed back to the booths and grabbed the second pair, followed by the third. Finally, he began to trek back to retrieve his final items he intended to steal: Four huge clay containers full to the brim of clean drinking water.

“Nice work, Ickarus,” he praised himself, allowing a small Wah-yayayaya in victory. In his pride, however, he did not notice the abrupt end of the commentator’s acclamations, nor the klmp, klmp, klmp of steps leading to both the docks and the market.

—--

“I knew it,” Gohn growled, watching from his watch tower as the man named Ickarus he let by earlier loaded bag after bag of goods into the ship named Candlelight. “You idiot, Klarion!”

He breathed out through his nose, frustrated that the stupid patrol boy was instead at the procession. This, however, gave Gohn an idea. He took off towards the procession, cursing his incompetence all the way. Gohn did thank his lucky stars, though, that the Shield of the Island just happened to be right in town…

“Ickarus, you are under arrest by the upright government of Pline Peaks for mass theft and lying to an officer of the law!”

Ickarus thought back, swearing he’d seen that face before. “Wait, isn’t your name Gohn? You let me in! Plus, these guys-” Ickarus pointed to the outright furious shopkeepers behind him, “-were trying to extort money out of me! What do you have to say to that?”

Gohn began to growl something, but Igaroff stepped forward instead, butcher axe in hand. “I say we stole ahole lot less than you, brat. Do you realize ‘ow much money in meat is sitting on your stupid boat, rottin’ right now? You’ll pay!”

Despite protests from the other shopkeepers and Gohn, Igaroff raised his axe in preparation for a clean swipe, just like beheading a cow. The people on the sidelines looked in horror from Igaroff to Ickarus, who was…smiling? His face was covered in waxy liquid that flowed much too fast up his head, encasing his dome in what looked like a hard candle due to the single strand of white hair that resembled a wick sticking out of the makeshift helmet.

Ickarus grinned wildly, anticipating the butcher’s strike while he watched Igaroff’s body move. He snapped on his goggles, which perfectly fit under the helmet. “A fight it’ll be, then. Wah-yayayayaya!”

Only a moment later, the butcher axe bounced right off the candle helmet and, while Igaroff was completely stunned, Ickarus sprung into action. “Candlestick Slam!” he roared, swinging the steel baton as hard as he could against the huge butcher’s head. In one strike, Igaroff the butcher was down. The onlookers only had expressions of fear and shock on their faces as Ickarus turned his attention to them.

“Let me introduce myself properly,” Ickarus said, bowing his candle-helmeted head. “My name is Ickarus Helion, craftsman, captain, and most importantly…Waxman. I ate the Doru Doru no Mi, idiots! Wah-yayayayayayayayaya!”

Ickarus took off down the backroads while the crowd of shopkeepers and Gohn revived themselves from their mental shock. “After-after him, citizens! After the waxhead!” Gohn cried, giving chase.

Ickarus was pouring wax before he got to the docks. He almost thought he was home free, but when he emerged from the back alley leading into the docks, he saw several upsetting sights. First, he noticed all the bags of food had been removed from his ship. Second, there were several townspeople clamoring onto Candlelight, obviously wishing to loot and destroy. Third, two people were in the center of the crowd, both wearing much fancier clothes than their surrounding citizens.

With a glace, Ickarus sent the wax he had sweated off to launch those pesky troublemakers off of his beloved ship. He struck up a conversation in the meantime, as if these villagers were his best friends. “Well, guys, what’s up? Y’all mind if I just snatch these bags and go? Promise to leave you alone!”

The crowd was dumbfounded, but the two in extremely formal attire strode forward. “Ah!” Ickarus proclaimed with false humility. “Where are my manners? You must be Mayor Pline, and that makes you…[dass]extremely hot[cmt]Totally thought he was calling the mayor extremely hot. Maybe breaking up the dialogue with a pointing action would've helped.[/cmt][/dass]!”

The crowd audibly gasped. Even the mayor recoiled in confusion, though his daughter stood unfazed. Indeed, Ickarus was aiming to disarm, but his stark statement was very true. Light pink hair fell around her shoulders with two strands of yellow flowing down the left side of her face by her ear. Her eyes, though filled with distaste at the moment, were large and dark green. And, if Ickarus did say so himself, she had quite the womanly stature. He glanced at her hip and, as expected, he saw a longsword cleverly disguised and sheathed. This was, of course, the Shield of the Island, Laney Pline.

“Wah-yayayaya! So I suppose my flattery doesn’t work on a stoic woman such as yourself?” Ickarus grinned.

“Shut your mouth, or you may embarrass yourself very soon,” her voice was soft but steely with determination as she unsheathed her sword. “Surrender quietly, or face your doom.”

“How about neither, beautiful?” Ickarus said. “I’d prefer to shine the floor with you instead.”

The crowd looked on silent and confused, and Laney Pline tilted her head in question.

“Do I really have to explain this?” he sighed exasperated, peeling off the socks he had received from Gohn earlier. “You see, wax is commonly used to shine floors, and as I ate the Doru Doru no Mi, I will shine the floor with you using my wax, as opposed to mop the floor with you.”

The crowd remained silent, some reeling from the revelation that this man was a Devil Fruit user. Laney shook her head and braced herself.

“I do not care what you think you will do to the floor with me, Sir Waxhead. If you do not comply now, you will die,” she glared at her adversary.

“Man, I don’t like that nickname. How about Featherfoot?” Ickarus smiled again, but to no avail. “Ooookay, so you guys are no fun. You know what I don’t like? People who don’t know how to have fun. So bring it! [dass]Let’s brawl, baby[cmt]I think I have whiplash. Since he was confronted for his crime, I feel there's been a jarring shift in Ickarus' personality. I'm not sure if that's intentional or not, but it feels awkward and inconsistent.[/cmt][/dass].”

Both Ickarus and Laney sprung into the combat. Laney was faster with her first attack, drawing back her arm and slicing it through the air. Her silver blade caught Ickarus on the arm and caused blood to splurt out.

“Ugh, that hurt! That’s not very lady-like of you, little miss pageant. I happen to really, really like this coat,” he taunted. Laney ignored these comments, instead opting to launch another offensive. Seeing her coming, Ickarus grinned. “Feisty, are we? Alright, Doru Doru no…Wax Body!”

Ickarus’s body shone, hard wax covering every spot of available skin. Laney swung with a mighty battle cry. When her blade just bounced off, however, she yelped in surprise and stumbled over. Ickarus dropped his Wax Body.

“Nighty-night, sister,” said he, grinning and extending Candlestick to its full three foot length. “Candlestick Slam!”

“ARRRGHHHH!” howled Laney.

“You-you’re still conscious after that?” Ickarus said in slight awe.

Laney whipped around, sword in one hand and head in the other. “Of course I am, insolent moron! I’ve trained my whole life for a fight such as this!”

“Oh, wow, your whole life?” mocked Ickarus. “All fifteen years of it?”

“I AM TWENTY!” roared the Pline girl. She rushed in to strike Ickarus down, but he simply dashed out of the way of her reckless attack.

“What an odd battle cry,” Ickarus mused. “Well, here’s my cry: Doru Doru no…” Ickarus’s upper half began to grow in size. Wax layered over and over and over again formed the shape of a bull with Ickarus’s top enclosed inside. The bull opened its mouth and shouted in Ickarus’s voice, “Minotaur Rush!”

Laney didn’t have a chance. As she struggled to recover from her missed slice, she only had a moment to comprehend that a giant wax bull was charging her. The crowd recoiled intensely as the sound of several broken bones followed Laney’s crash into the wall on the far side of the docks.

The minotaur crumbled. “Ready to call it quits, hottie?” called Ickarus. Despite the crowd’s protests, the Pline girl struggled back up.

“Don’t…call...me hottie,” the damaged warrior growled.

“Ooh, scary,” Ickarus giggled. “Wah-yayayayaya! How about you call me Featherfoot Ickarus and we’ll be even.”

“Not a chance…Waxhead.”

Ickarus shrugged. “On your head it goes…hot stuff.”

Before Laney could fully gain her balance, Ickarus rushed her. Before she knew it, the candle-headed maniac was in her face, goggles shining with glee. “Doru Doru no…Jawbreaking Dropkick!” His unclad foot met her chin, sending her flying.

Despite everything, the Pline girl stood up yet again. “Wow, sweetheart,” Ickarus said, reclining on the wall, “I really do admire your resilience.”

Ickarus stood in place as Laney gathered her strength and began to charge him once more, too tired for a cry or witty comeback. Ickarus clicked his tongue. “Not so fast. Remember what happened last time you tried rushing me?”

Laney ignored his warning. She threw all her momentum into the sword swing. Unfortunately, after she began swinging, Ickarus smiled and deployed the foldable shield of his father’s design. “Daedalus Shield!” he cried.

The crowd viewed in disbelief the spectacle. The Shield of the Island was, ironically, thrown backwards by a different shield. One could almost hear her bones rattle as the impact against the thick metal shield vibrated through her body. She stumbled backwards before gaining her footing again. She held her sword in front of her in a defensive position, grunting.

“Blood in your pretty hair, perfect jawline busted…Don’t you want to give up, princess? I’m not gonna hurt your people. I didn’t even want to fight. It was your shopkeepers who insisted on trying to scam me out of my own Belly. So I ask one more time: Do you wish to keep fighting?” The crowd was dead silent as all childishness left Ickarus’s face and stature. “I cannot guarantee you’ll survive the next attack.”

Laney wavered, trying to keep her footing on partially broken legs, but the sword fell out of her weak arms and she fell onto her knees, sobbing. Ickarus tore off his wax helmet and adjusted his goggles to rest above his eyes. He approached Laney and bent next to her. He whispered something very perplexing into her ear:

“I am not going to hurt you. Trust me.”

She looked at her adversary, confused, before he stood up, grabbed her by the scruff of her dress, and dangled her above the ground.

Ickarus reflected on his actions. Sailing unregistered, stealing to get his way, and beating the ever-loving snot out of a poor girl? Those were certainly not “good” actions. He also recognized that he felt no remorse for the chain of events that had occurred that day. Ickarus believed with his whole might that he did what was right. However, that made him…

“A pirate,” he breathed. Ickarus then steadied himself as he held the ragdoll-like warrior up with one hand. Against the dusk, he proclaimed to the crowd, “My name is Ickarus Helion, also known as Featherfoot. I am a craftsman, Waxman, and…a pirate. Now, listen to my demands, or she dies.”

Ickarus yawned. A lot happened that day, and to end it all, he even got to rest in a soft, comfortable bed that had soft sheets and heavy blankets! What a miracle. Following his “death threat” to Laney Pline, he insisted upon several things: Provisions for at least two months at sea (including cured meat, vegetables, fruits, and water), safety for his ship, a place to stay for the night, a map of the South Blue along with a compass, and most specific, the shutdown of the market. As soon as the crowd had dissolved to go home or deliver the pirate’s demands, Ickarus adopted a much more caring demeanor than before, which puzzled the mayor.

—--

“Don’t you manhandle my daughter, Featherfoot!” the mayor squeaked earlier in the day, his tiny form not offering much in the way of intimidation. “At least let her have her decency!”

“Shut up, Your Highness,” said Ickarus as he dug in his coat pockets. “Ah, found them.” Ickarus pulled out his special Nourishing bandages and began to wrap the girl’s injuries. She had long fallen unconscious.

“What are you doing? I demand you explain! Although you hold the hostage, I still demand some form of respect as mayor of Pline Peaks!”

Sighing, Ickarus explained, “Man, your daughter was never a hostage. I would not kill someone for the sport of it, or even if you didn’t meet my demands.” Pline listened, mouth slightly agape. “I’m manipulative, and I’ll own it. But I do require these things, and between you and me, if your people satisfy my needs, I will not harm this island again in addition to not murdering Sleeping Beauty.”

Pline was silent for many seconds. “B-b-but!” he blubbered after finding his voice again, “You said during the skirmish that, if she did not give up, you would kill her!”

“I did not ever say anything of the sort!” Ickarus said, indignant. “I said that I could not guarantee her survival. [dass]Besides, I knew better than to do anything permanent. I used that sentence as a mind trick to get her to stop[cmt]This feels like awkward dialogue. You also seem to have a tendency to overexplain some things (whether that be in dialogue or in narration), which only encumbers the scene.[/cmt][/dass], otherwise I would still be thrashing her at this moment. Wah-yayaya! It’s all mind games with me, King, sir.”

The dumbfounded mayor continued to watch as the pirate used his craftsman’s hands to tenderly clean Laney’s wounds and cast her broken limbs. After hearing the sound of some villagers returning, he quickly made two more requests to Mayor Pline.

“Two more things, Your Highness. One: You tell those villagers that I allowed you to clean up your daughter. Two…”

—--

A loud, obnoxious rap sounded on Ickarus’s door. He was staying at the local inn, and the morning light was just barely peeking through the small window. Ickarus rubbed his eyes and wondered who the heck would be slamming on his door at this early hour.

“Wait…” he muttered. “It’s not her already, is it?”

Ickarus seized the handle of the door and yanked it open. Indeed, on the other side was none other than Laney Pline.

She struck him across the face with her good arm.

“What the heck, pervert!” she shouted in his face. “First you completely humiliate me, and now you demand that I stitch your coat and haul it down here before you leave today! Well, here it is! I’m going back home to rest!”

“Hey, it’s not a good idea to provoke me,” teased Ickarus, seizing her shoulder before she stormed away and flinging on his coat with the other arm. “I could actually kill you now, wah-yayayayaya!”

Laney wanted to ask why he insisted on keeping her down at the inn when she could be resting. Instead, she asked, “Why is your laugh so weird?”

This only caused Ickarus to roar his guffaw louder. “Wah-yayayayayayayayayaya! Wah-wah-wah-yayayayayayaya!” He calmed down, clutching his sides. He was no longer holding Laney in place. “Just the way I come, wah-yayayaya!”

“Why did you request me specifically, Waxhead? Just to make a poor girl even more embarrassed?” accused Laney. She turned her face from Ickarus so that he wouldn’t see how ashamed she really was.

Ickarus only giggled again. “Really not that deep, pumpkin. Everyone loses fights; you gotta grow up and own it. In fact, I was the boy who got in the most fights but also lost the most fights back where I came from! Wah-yayayaya!” Still seeing she was turned away from him, he said, “To be frank, I just wanted to get one last look before I left.”

Laney’s head whipped around so fast Ickarus reckoned it was a miracle it didn’t swivel off. “I knew it! You are just a perverted pirate!”

“Far from it,” Ickarus said, leaning against his door frame. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t want to ask you if you wanted to join my crew.”

“What do you mean, ‘Make sure you didn’t want to ask me’? Am I not good enough for you, Waxhead?” Laney snarled. She then realized her initial mistake and began to backtrack. “I-I mean, not that I would ever want to be a pirate. And if I was a pirate I’d be the captain!”

“Yeah, sure, girlie,” Ickarus smiled. “Now go away. I need to get ready to go.”

The door closed before she could say “Good riddance.”

—--

Ickarus kicked off with his powerful legs, hoisting himself onto his deck. He straightened and began to wave goodbye to Touchport, his wild white hair flying askew. His goodbye was met with a variety of reactions, from outrage to anger to outright attacks.

“Hey Laney!”

The pink-headed girl raised an eyebrow at the pirate’s call.

“I’m coming back after I finish in the South Blue! So be ready! If you’re strong enough, who knows?” Ickarus winked at her, and she looked away, a complex expression on her face between anticipation and disgust. Suddenly, her head snapped back up.

“Who said you could call me by my real name, Waxhead?” she shouted.

His response was lost in the wind as he drifted away from Pline Peaks, leaving behind a population hysterical about the Waxman’s self-declared ‘return.’

And so, thus ends the first installment of the legends that tell the tale of Waxhead…er, Featherfoot Ickarus.

-----

"Wait!" cried Ickarus. "I forgot! I forgot to look for a navigator! Wah-yayayayayayayaya!

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