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Caesar - Eight Arms, Eight Failures
Caesar looked around in frustration at the disappearance of everyone yet again.
His eyes landed on Krabbe's ship, the giant claw and mast falling apart. And was he yelling something about...Saban? What the fuck was a Saban?
He pushed it aside, just proud of whoever had disabled the enemy ship so thoroughly.
And then his eyes spied the multi-armed form of the aptly named Shrimps. So the guy had eaten a Devil Fruit. Explained a lot. But man, couldn't he get any more impressive? He had to be, like, 4 feet tall now.
But hey, now he knew what a Saban was.
Caesar grinned as he ran through the options. While he could probably beat eight arms, he didn't like the idea of those pistols being that close to his privates.
His best options were breaking the eyes or the legs. Restrict movement. Bone kid and Slick should be able to back him up. And with those pistols, that meant the Captain and Dirk should be coming top side soon.
He knew there was an order in times like this, but forget that.
He was the Fighter. He was the combat specialist. He was made for this.
"Bonesword, get some plant invasion going! Slick, stop his movement with that oil! Hell, burn that pipsqueak where he stands if you won't burn my precious fur!" he called out as he dashed forward, sending several Omni Slashes at Prime's eyes and head and chest as he weaved forward in a random route to be harder to hit.
His Target was simple:
He was going to cut the beanstalk down from its trunk.
Assuming Slick got the oil down in time, if he even did it, Caesar would use it to slide between Prime's legs and slice with his machete using the increased momentum to his advantage. If not, he'd just have to run it and go for the legs. Maybe he could slip around the guy and get him from behind.
And, of course, he hoped that his Shield ability would stop bullets if needed. He'd never tried that before... Now was a good time as any!