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[img]http://i1339.photobucket.com/albums/o719/EthereanFire/Fox_zpsterb1uck.png[/img]


[color=cyan]Level:[/color] 2
[color=cyan]Day/Time:[/color] Day One; Evening
[color=cyan]Location:[/color] Demon Lord’s Castle - Exterior; Forest -> En route to the Abandoned Castle
[color=cyan]Tag:[/color] [color=4be2a3]Naija[/color] [@DracoLunaris]
[color=cyan]Mention:[/color] [color=ed1c24]Mario[/color] [@Holy Soldier]
[color=cyan]Word Count:[/color] 936[/center]

[hider=Level Up](P)Damage +1
(P)Defense +1
(M)(E)Damage +1
Dexterity +2

Ability: Fire[/hider]



The ground shook beneath Fox’s quick feet as he raced hastily to Mario’s location, the sudden tremor threatening to throw him off-balance before he stopped himself in place. He was hit unusually hard by this, but in a extrasensory manner rather than a physical one. As he resumed his pace, Fox looked up to catch sight of the flock of banshee kin swarming overhead, vaguely registering from context that something was wrong. He had hoped he would make it in time to lend his assistance, but he would find his hopes quickly dashed when he made his way on scene. He was greeted with the site of their leader collapsed to her knees watching helplessly as the Demon Lord took off after his minions, his good work here completed.

[color=cyan]“Oh, no…”[/color] He whispered forebodingly to himself.

The Cornerian arrived just too late to witness it, but it was clear what had transpired. All the better that he was spared the details; it would save him the trouble and grief of having to describe it to anyone else… specifically Mario’s loved ones. He felt sorry for Naija, though, since he couldn’t say the same for her. She visibly despaired at the very fact that [color=ed1c24]'The Legend Himself'[/color] could be done in by something like this, let alone seeing it happen firsthand, and as someone who was at least somewhat loosely acquainted with him, Fox couldn’t blame her. That said, he wasn’t one to submit, even in the face of bleak adversity, and now damn sure wasn’t the time to do so.

[color=cyan]“We have to go,”[/color] he urged in his default tone - not too stern or commanding. [color=cyan]“There’s nothing we can do here; not for him or anyone else. We have to see this through… for everyone’s sakes,”[/color] he followed with after a second-long pause, hoping to convey a sense of understanding as well as objectivity while showing no signs of compromise in his mental/emotional integrity or resolve. Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t upset, but he certainly wasn’t going to show it. After all, [i]someone[/i] would have to keep their composure, and if not him, then who else?

Naija rose to reassert what Fox had already told her, as if she had only half heard him (if that). Regardless, they shared the same sentiment, and, as it would turn out, the same idea. She disappeared into the woods and brought back a favorably shaped log with which to carry him, instructing him to board the makeshift platform. He stepped upward onto the improvised airlift and knelt for stability during the initial takeoff, but he would hardly have to [color=4be2a3]“hold on to”[/color] it. Once they got going he positioned himself upright to stand ready for their opposition as they passed them by.

[color=cyan]“Get us as far ahead of them as you can. I’ll keep you covered. On your mark,”[/color] the pilot dictated, slightly raising the inflection of his voice so he could be heard over the rushing air. He drew his out blaster midway through his last sentence and kept it at his side until they were in position, ready to make good on his intentions.

It was almost convenient, really, as he had actually done something similar to this twice before; [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BpKg2Boz2HE]once on Falco’s wing,[/url] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFBfZ8MMhWs]and then again on Wolf’s.[/url] If only he was armed as heavily. He would have to make do with what he had, but maybe that would be just enough. Despite being in its lesser state, it seemed apparent that his blaster still did sufficient damage to dispatch the corrupted soldiers (perhaps moreso), and unlike before, he had his reflector on him in case he had to send anything back. He would especially be on the lookout for magic vials now that he knew what to expect from them (for the most part, anyways).

Once Naija gave the order, Fox raised his sidearm and let fly a light rain of laser fire. He maintained his deliberate aim as he transitioned fluidly, seamlessly between every target in sight (excepting Odin on account of redundancy), but he would spare little to no break in his firing rhythm save for the need to respond to any incoming attacks, which were to be expected. If any of them pulled out a vial, Fox would respond in one of two ways depending on how quickly he could ascertain it. He would either shoot at the jars directly in an attempt to shatter them before they could leave their users' hands, or he would simply try to reflect them back into the crowd, failing the former. They were both risky prospects for sure, but success would ideally yield optimal results by taking out at least a good majority of the pursuing force. If nothing else, it would at least slow them down. Of course, he would have to be similarly wary of thrown spears as well, should their enemies become desperate.

Fox was every bit intent on dwindling the enemy numbers and making this as difficult as he could for them. In doing so, he hoped to inversely diminish some of the pressure that him and Naija were regrettably forced to put on their allies by bringing the fight to them. He already wasn’t happy about having to retreat and call for backup, let alone the loss of such a major player being the reason for it. Until they arrived, he would do his part to bring down as many of the accursed maiden vultures as he possibly could before then, and given the now moderately personal nature of the situation, he was more than eager to.