SchNGrBTwM

[/2] ROLL TO CATCH FISH

5
You briefly consider tackling and overpowering this ingratiating well-embroidered sack of shit, but: she's currently sitting a pretty couple feet above your comfortable jumping height, your arm's still broken, you can't see her legs, and the longer you look at her robes the more convinced you are that the damn things have a life of their own.

Also also, mers are decent meals in a pinch but a tad salty. This one seems a touch more amphibious though, maybe she'd be be palatable?

You drop the prospect of dropkicking this smug frog, your powerful vampire senses instead noticing a movement below the boardwalk.

Fish!

With speed that makes her Royal Highness flinch, you almost fully dunk your head and both shoulders as you drive an arm into the water. You nearly overbalance and fall in, but after a bunch of flailing pitch yourself back upright again.

Digging your fingers into its filigree gills was inadvisable, but all those sharp bits are hooking into your hand good enough to give you a solid grip.

You've acquired one (1) SWAMP PISCINE. You give the still-wriggling thing a quick shake to shut it up, then fling it underarm at the mer. Your swing's a bit short, but she scrambles along a branch and launches into empty space to grab it. She's still somehow attached to the branch by several folds of fabric, which may or may not have a pair of powerful legs doing the actual gripping. Man, this chick is weird. Pepperstrelle pulls out a dagger, wincing a bit as she adjusts her grip on it, then deftly guts the fish in midair. With a scant few slices, it's two perfect steaks.

"Heads or tails?" she asks you, slipping the knife back into her robes. "Trick question."

She tosses you the piece of fish with neither of those aforementioned parts attached. You try lick the blood off it, and taste scales and fishbones and the sort of silty fish-flavour you associate with the flesh of bottom-feeders. The mer watches you, having already swallowed her half whole.

"Yeh'r no seakin," she declares, spitting out fish-scales between words. "I han't ever seen a seakin with fin-gers like yours, but there's nothin' leggerways as slimy as you are."

"Gods agreed, too, to quit messin' and addin' in the water. So what in Solber's menagerie are you?"

/5