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[img]https://i.postimg.cc/L5r26P82/Star-Fox-Final.png[/img]

[color=5edaf6]Level:[/color] 6 (45 -> 48/60)
[color=5edaf6]Location:[/color] Sandswept Sky - Al Mamoon; Outbound -> Tostarena Town
[color=5edaf6]Word Count:[/color] 2675 (+3 EXP)
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Ahead of the final boarding call, Fox made his way to the front end of the train deck to get a leading view of their destination, the divided peak highlighted by the morning desert sun as it came into view, and Al Mamoon began to shrink from it. At no point during the initial stretch of their departure did he bother to look back. Whatever problems they may have left behind them they would have to leave there; to entrust them to their comrades elsewhere. The apparent exception to this was the Grimleal archer, Ciella, coming unexpectedly aboard with them at the last minute before takeoff, which he hadn’t failed to notice. It would have been hard not to on account of her stature alone, as she occupied already limited space on the train. Whatever the reason for her involvement, that was her risk to take, for she would soon be well past the point of safe return. Perhaps after getting a good look at their “noble goal”, she would come to her senses and see the truth of the matter, but that may have been expecting much. Either way, her best chance was [i]with[/i] them now.

Moving on from the thought, Fox proceeded down the length of the train to find a place to settle in, conducting a cursory rather than thorough examination of its workings to familiarize himself. He had contended with weaponized locomotives in the past, and could figure out easily enough how to make a giant gun work, knowing the extent of what one could be good for. Common sense sufficed to fill in the blanks on that, its utility obvious enough to place some of them seemingly under the impression that all of their work thwarting the Resistance was to secure it. In his mind, they [i]actually[/i] did it to save one of their own. The Railway Gun was simply supplemental to that; a welcomed asset to aid them on their journey, to be sure. He was just glad to have the right people on it with him… and then some.

While they had an apparent surplus of time to do little else, Fox thought to make rounds checking on the team individually, starting, by request, with Tora. The Nopon proposed an open challenge to anyone and everyone to hit him with whatever they had in an impromptu training session aimed at sharpening his defensive acumen, for which a majority of the team’s worth of takers almost immediately formed a queue. This proved to be beneficial for just about everyone in attendance, be they participant or observer, affording them all a good look at the abilities and tactics of one another while Tora got hands-on lessons in dealing with them. Casters, supports, and variable heavy hitters got their turns before Fox eventually tagged in between rounds, and as much as Tora was clearly learning from it all, there was a simple, more specific, yet critical point he wanted to help get across while he had the opportunity.

On Tora’s mark, Fox advanced swiftly on him with a two count of advancing Impact Shots to provoke his guard while he closed the gap between them. Quick as Fox was, Tora now had a few rounds of fresh practice behind him to prepare him for an aggressive rushdown assault. Even attempting to get around his guard proved difficult, to say the least, as the Noponic defender was able to move his guard accordingly to fend off a ceaseless series of varying foot blows that fell ineffectually upon his shield. A satisfied smirk threatened to form on Fox’s face, admittedly pleased with the result. That Tora could defy appearances and expectations by being able to respond evenly with an overwhelmingly faster opponent in single combat made for a commendable showing of situational awareness and threat response on his part.

There was just one problem…

With both feet planted firmly against Tora’s shield, Fox kicked off to go airborne in a back layout, readying and squeezing off a Charge Shot aimed directly at the Nopon from point blank before his feet hit the floor again. Again, the shot hit nothing but metal, amounting to little more than a mild concussive stagger at most. However, it was enough to buy Fox a literal second to do what he really meant to, which was to blurdash in, push past the shield with one hand, grap Tora by the collar (or the base of his wing-hand) with the other, and drive a hard right hand into his sternum--or where he approximated it to be. He continued forward, following through with a pivoting reverse leg sweep to force momentous leverage that allowed him to toss Tora bodily over his shoulder at the end of his rotation. From there, he stayed on top of him for the remainder of the round, allowing him no space or time to recover. Their bout ended with the last hit of a juggling kick flurry that kept them both airborne for its duration, whereafter Fox softened his stance to ‘at ease’ at the realization that their exchange had reached a natural conclusion.

Big Band, having clued in to the purpose of the demonstration by way of shared experience, was keen to verbally break down the lesson for Tora that Fox attempted to illustrate for him in action, as he was content to leave to one more eloquent than himself. Any point worth making was worth making clearer, and in Tora’s case, it was that he couldn’t block [i]everything[/i]. A straightforward defense, no matter how solid, could only combat a straightforward offense. The lesson: [i]Be flexible, adaptable, and remain dynamic! To settle into a complacent combative routine is to become predictable, and is a simple recipe for defeat. If you allow your opponent to mentally download you in full, then you've already lost. Never exhaust your every option prematurely, and always have a new answer ready.[/i]

Of course, part of this lesson--that Tora couldn't afford to get locked down into his own defense--started setting in for Tora just before Fox decided to step in. Though, it was seeing the prior performances that made him, specifically, want to apply the lesson in person. Fox was hardly the mightiest or most versatile among their troop, or even the fastest or most skillful any of them would ever meet. If [i]he[/i] could pry open his guard, then just about anyone could, and he didn’t need bypass-capable magic, augmented brute force, gimmicks, gadgets or otherwise to make that point. All it takes is a swift, strong, steady, or sure free hand.

Fox’s turn was up, and it was time to let someone else have their go at Tora, as soon as he caught his breath. He would take this session as a reminder to humor Joker with marksmanship lessons later, as per their verbal contract. That would have to wait for after he was finished answering a call that he stepped away to take, and turned out to be more imperative than his default composure and subdued register betrayed. The ensuing rounds of one-way sparring served as suitably distracting spectacle for most while Fox went below deck into the hold to attend whatever business drew him away.

A narrow walk through a dimly lit hallway of extraneous cargo and supply crates stacked to the ceiling on both sides led him to nothing of immediate note or import at first, until a moment of searching took him further into the back, toward the greater concentration of the clutter, to find one such crate with its top left conspicuously ajar, offset just enough to give away that it had been opened previously. Peeking into what turned out to be a shallow crate of munitions and small ordinance, he found that it was nowhere close to being at capacity--less than halfway at most--but curiously, the sides, bottom and cargo had been lightly stained crimson with what could unmistakably be identified as dried blood. It appeared that they had a stowaway among them, only Fox both expected and welcomed this one. He turned his head to look and listen for them practically before he felt a blunt point gently nudge his shoulder from the shadows right next to him.

[color=2b64d8]“I was starting to think you forgot about me,”[/color] joked Sly, wearing a casually confident smile and a tattered pancho he no doubt lifted from an unattended stall managed by an unsuspecting vendor to better keep his profile down.

[color=5edaf6]“Took you long enough to call,”[/color] Fox responded flatly. [color=5edaf6]“Thought you might have missed us.”[/color] Looking him up and down, he gestured to a stray splotch of red that all but compromised his stolen cover and gave way to injuries it may have been intended to conceal. [color=5edaf6]“What happened?”[/color] he asked calmly, honest, dutiful concern for an ally lacing his tone.

Lifting open the drab garb to reveal amateurish, self-applied bandaging work and the wounds that bled through it, Sly responded, [color=2b64d8]“Let's just say that the mark had some teeth… [i]literally[/i].”[/color] That was just one in a series of details about his quiet heist that he would rather not leave out, should any of them ever return for more.

Nodding, Fox called through his headpiece, [color=5edaf6]“Morgana! I need you down here below deck, in the cargo hold. Bring Primrose as well. [i]Quietly.[/i]”[/color] The emphasis on subtlety came as more of a precaution than a necessity with a Grimleal lieutenant aboard, uncertain if it had anything to do at all with their resident gentleman thief (however doubtful), or how far they saw fit to extend their jurisdiction otherwise. Her turn taken with Tora would make eluding her notice easy enough in any case. [color=5edaf6]“Did you get it?”[/color] he asked simply following a short pause.

Obligingly, Sly rummaged through an unseen inventory of contraband and stolen goods to fulfill part of a private exchange that seemed to be entirely between these two, and pulled out, of all things, a Spirit to hand to Fox. He gingerly took the Spirit in hand, examining it to confirm that it was in fact the one he was looking for: that of the slain Assassin, cut down in an unfair act of spiteful recompense by the vindictive Azwel. Unsurprisingly, THAT particular detail of the Resistance case never once came up, during yesterday’s hearing OR the morning’s demonstration. Even after learning everything they had, he doubted it would have changed anything in the eyes of the court, other than worsening their already tenuous relationship with the crown right after having reached a resolution. Now, they had a witness, nay, [i]victim[/i] who could testify in the unlikely event they ever had to, and more importantly, they had a valuable new asset; an new ally, perhaps.

[color=2b64d8]“There’s plenty more where that came from.”[/color]

Fox simply nodded in reply, gratefully presenting the Spirit back to its retriever as an expressive gesture of approval and gratitude.

[color=5edaf6]“Sorry I put you up to this.”[/color] Sincerely, Fox hoped and expected the Devious, Thievious Raccoonus to come away from the task he evidently charged him with unscathed, and was more remorseful still about being unable to personally compensate him at the time, knowing he would likely owe him back later. As a mercenary, he understood that such assignments didn’t come for nothing. Then again, thieves, especially of Sly’s calibur, didn’t usually take jobs, as far as he knew, so he had to have a reason of his own. [color=5edaf6]“Glad you’re alright, though. I hope you got something out of it for yourself...”[/color]

[color=2b64d8]“Don’t worry,”[/color] Sly began with a chuckle. [color=2b64d8]“I’m not in the business of leaving anywhere empty-handed. [i]Buuut[/i]... that [i]MIGHT[/i] just depend on what [i]those[/i] are good for,”[/color] he clarified, pointing to the Spirit in Fox’s hand with his cane. [color=2b64d8]“Care to let me in on that?”[/color] Of course. He was curious, as he should have been. He was owed [i]that much[/i] at least, to know what he risked his own hide for. It seemed a demonstration was in order, and what better time for it than while they waited for Morgana and Primrose to come down and provide him with needed medical attention, whereafter they could explain themselves to one another.

Fox regarded the Spirit with a discerning eye, considering what he might do with it now that he had been presented with his first opportunity to do so. It belonged to Ezio Auditore da Firenze, legendary master Assassin, founder and mentor of the Brotherhood, storied enemy to the Templar Order, and far more. He, too, came from murdered kin, tragedies that propelled him irreversibly into a lifetime of adventure, discovery, personal loss, and fighting a shadowy faction war for the fate of the world that would far outlive him, and would never see public mention in recorded history, despite its profound effect on it. This, in short, was the legacy of a man who proudly embraced his family heritage.

While he couldn’t intuit any of this, Fox could almost feel a similar ‘Kindred’ energy radiate from it that him by an unseen towline to Sly before. It was a pure shame, he thought, that someone like this would be executed in their prime in unwitting service to a false cause, lured in sympathetically by the idea of it. This was precisely what he didn’t want to happen, and part of why he saw fit to intervene to begin with. In this World--in [i]all[/i] worlds, really--the uniquely gifted were precious, and they couldn’t continue to lose them fighting among themselves while ‘God’ watched unappeased. There was only one suitable option he could see for rectifying such a wrong…

[color=5edaf6]“It wasn’t your time...”[/color] Fox began softly, head hung somberly, gazing at the Spirit as he spoke to it. [color=5edaf6]“You deserved better than to die in a crypt, taking orders from some imp that got in your head.”[/color] Had he only known Midna’s history… [color=5edaf6]“You only wanted to fight for what you thought was right, in the best way you knew how. I would know...”[/color] He paused at the thought, blinking with a sigh, then continued. [color=5edaf6]“You still can!”[/color] he started, his tone tightening ever so slightly with a renewed sense of focused determination. [color=5edaf6]“[i]Our[/i] fight’s not over yet; far from it, and we could use more like you. Come back! Take up a [i]real[/i] cause. Help us take down a [i]real[/i] tyrant, the one responsible for all this, and once this is all over… you can finally rest easy.”[/color]

[i][b]Redemption.[/b][/i] THAT was his answer. Take back what you can of your life, and dedicate it to freeing the World. It was the best one he could come up with. He hoped the Spirit of the Assassin would accept it...

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Just a few hours into their trip, the Railway Gun came to its final stop at a quaint, festively themed adobe village situated near the foot of the mountain, small enough that the train they rode in on could have run over it. This would be their last stop for supplies and respite for any who wanted it before getting in a full day of leg time, Fox himself even electing to savor what he could of it along with everyone else on a relatively relaxed walkabout through the town. Not long after disembarking did the question of provisions for the long, arduous march up the frigid peak ahead of them come up, for which some wondered if the town could provide. As a point of almost pure curiosity, Fox wondered the same. Did they get visitors to the mountain often enough that they were prepared to adequately supply passersby for a journey? They had only now to make good on it if so, so he decided to accompany his teammates to the directed storefront/s to see if they had anything he thought he couldn’t live without. Although, chances were he would have to, being frustratingly still outside of his means to afford anything on his own (on not looking to be any further in debt, as it were), and [url=https://youtu.be/Ld5E_B6dcYE]he wasn’t exactly the best at haggling.[/url]