TheSlyFox

OOC: Funny... I've never really RPed on a forum like this before... never HEARD there were rules, but always assumed EVERYTHING you said was just... I dunno, understood!

I agree with it all and thank you for giving us a little reminder!

Now let's get back to this scene and find out what will happen next!!

Sly only then realized his mistake. However much a child made up rules... they almost always changed them to suit their needs.

Plus, nothing was more devious and vindictive than a child beaten at it's own game... from sulking to laughing to an outright tantrum was not unheard of.

His only consolation was that now the team were at LEAST all aware of what kind of mind they were dealing with... he believed that was a fact the creature had hoped to avoid discovery...

Sly also realized for probably the second time in his life how much he hated kids...

Although, at least Baby Genius had a cute nanny... He allowed himself the brief smug thought... but what am I gonna do THIS TIME...?

Sly didn't know why he whispered that to himself... he HAD had a girl taken away... what the?

He stopped... calmed himself... ok... simple, you're not yourself. You are a mark. Someone.. someTHING is conning you. That robot and Ivory (back again I see) seem to be onto the con, but don't know how to solve it. Happens all the time. Ok... you can solve this... that green freaky kid-demon is in the mindscape... it's not CONTROLLING it... it can't... it's USING it... therefore... ITS IMAGE SAYS SOMETHING ABOUT ITSELF!!

"It's a KID!" Sly suddenly blurted out to the room!! "A little KID!!" Everyone stopped and looked at him, Ivory's eyes narrowed and Sly thought he was the first to follow his thought process... he could only hope, because before he could explain in greater detail the little floater appeared in front of Sly.

... if Sly had seen the small smile that appeared on Contact's face, he might have gained some much needed confidence. However, his attention was focused on the apparition in front of him.

"AM NOT!!! HOW DARE YOU!! I'M NOT a little kid! You take that BACK... kit!" The harsh tone and hateful nickname was suddenly that of Sly's old tormentor, and it stung like the crack if a whip. But Sly flinched around the fear and said. "Nnnnow... now, you PROMISED. You promised we could choose a way... out. It's not right to... break a promise..."

Holding Fox in its gaze, almost willing him to collapse, the little demon almost looked like it was... pouting? But...

"Fine! GO ahead!!” The creature seemed to recover itself… “Yes… very well then. However there is a catch. You are only allowed ONE question of me. And you CAN NOT ask which door is the right one!! After, you shall only get one choice!! So there!" It seemed to take this declaration with glee... as this last statement lessoned it’s regained maturity.

Before the others could confer about this, and they obviously wanted to, Sly took a chance he knew he wouldn't get again. Anything anyone might ask the group could be taken by the little miscreant as "the" one question...

Sometimes the simplest solution is the right one... He hoped. Sly opened his mouth and spoke quickly before anyone could beat him to talking... he only prayed he was right....

"Uhhh... which doors are NOT the right way..."

Stunned silence was his answer... the group looked at him in disbelief... either he had saved their lives with a conclusion so simple it was idiotic... or he had doomed them all...

I just saw all these guys... and I LOVE them!!!! Thank you from the bottom of my Sly heart and keep 'em coming!

...oh yeah, and:

Deth, I don't need your keys... I already had a set made while you told me to hold your purse when you went after that Outcast Rector... where did you THINK I ran off to?

Contact, you're agent told me not to speak to the press about what, quote "might have anything to do with my aforementioned client..." She was cute though, can I have her number?

Ironycon, Ozzy didn't take to Omaha... I think he said "tooomanyfugghshddesbibles..." Thinking of setting him up in Florida... think he'd be a HIT at most Retirement Communities... thoughts?

Thank you Lady Neko, you are a good kitty!

(And an excellent cat to have your back if anyone is ever looking!)

This whole thing just makes me laugh.

Sly was brought out of his delirium when Deth abruptly stood up to look around... and his head slammed into the floor... she seemed... different... but as he rolled over and his mind focused to what was going on around him he suddenly lost all concentration...

There was Sylvester Trotter looking back him, in grubby street clothes and skinny as a rake... No styled outfit... no shades... no hat... just a dirty orphan who wasn't good enough for anyone.

"Oh crap..." was all that could escape his lips. But Sylvester knew something was up... because, while this might be the version he most feared about himself to ever surface... he had long come to grips with this past and realized it meant... nothing...

Suddenly Sly was back... he shimmered once in awhile to the orphan boy, but overall remained firm...

"That's it... somebody is messing with our minds. I don't know if it's the magic inside me or just that I'm totally self-involved with my image, but I can... feel that."

He looked around at his new friends... "Think... focus... this might be how we FEAR our minds are... but someone is reaching in our heads for just that... FEARS. About truths we don't want people to see... if not, than I would look like a Greek God who makes girls weak in the knees.... TRUST ME..."

That blow to the head must have done something to me... he thought as he fought for control of his identity now, failed, then recovered again...Usually I let someone else figure this junk out...

I'm thinking so, yes... now the only trick is... what to write... when to write it... and do I give up playing the game to write it!!

I'm fine with the way it is now actually... I have fun whenever I'm on. And I meet RPers constantly...

... I don't know, I might pay extra for that, but I don't think the RPers would be enough to maintain and pay GMs to create an RP server... just not feasable, IMHO... the majority of their income comes from just your average "gonna level and play and have fun for an hour or 2" crowd...

OCC: My character is such a flirt and appears immature, people often act surprised when they find out I'm 25!!!

He's also always with the witty remarks, HORRIBLE puns, and generally just won't shut up... I'm surprised some people put UP with Sly half the time...

Just goes to show you, some of us are REALLY good actors...

edit: oh yeah, and with a name like PigLick I can't even IMAGINE how foul! I turn profanity on, (the more real language, the better!) but most leave it disabled if they want to, so also remember, any cursing someone doesn't want to see, they won't... just *****

Sly couldn't even notice the swarm, his head could remain craddled in the "lap of luxary" all day...

For some reason when he saw Helsing asking the Dark Angel above him for a wetnap, he mumbled something incoherently about using control... but then it was back to pure bliss... and HE had thought this was turning out to be a BAD day!

So Sly sighed a contented sigh, his eye not noticing the sky...

[ QUOTE ]
ooc-sorry bout that, kinda got carried away.

[/ QUOTE ]

OCC: I didn't mind, with all the villains non stop without a breather we could use a quick "kill all"

"God DAMN it!!" Sly exclaims to the world in general. He is beginning to regret ever taking the damned idol from the poor old man. He has never in his life been beset again and again by so many enemies wanting a piece of him and his friends...

... now, to top it all off, an explosion has blasted him away from the side of Deth into a nearby apartment building. brushing glass off his chest, and shaking himself off, he takes a step forward and realizes that his mind is finally catching up to his body. He trips from pain and exhaustion, and catches himself on the edge of the broken window he flew through. Reaching into his pocket he removes his last catch of breathe, slaps it on his arm, and waits a moment for it to take effect.

It's hard to make sense of anything on the ground below him, with the influx of new arrivals, conversations, and mixed fighting going on, but he remembered seeing a woman limping before he heard a name... Morningstar... maybe he could finally get this damned Indiana Jones prop piece off his hands!

But first, Sly sees Deth sprawled on the ground, obviously severely wounded. Without a pause he uses his last bit of energy to teleport to her location.

Checking his pack, he sees only one awaken and one stim pack left...Oh well, I'll have to rely on my own luck from here on in He thinks, as he whips out both and slaps them on Deth's chest.

As the two liquids mix and become absorbed by her body, Fox checks her pulse. When Deth's eyes flutter open Sly grins at her and says, "Trust me, I would never lay a hand on your chest if it wasn't critical... that is, without your permission first, I mean."

Sly's voice is fading, so he quickly pulls out the idol, waves it at Rebecca Morningstar to catch her attention, and yells, "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS AND WHY DID YOUR FATHER DIE GIVING IT TO ME!!!"

Sorry for the harsh news given so abruptly, Fox expects the woman's look of shock as she rushes over to him.

"I am sorry..." Sly says... "But... theres... not much... time... and..."

With a final slump Fox falls forward onto the idol he was displaying, his body finally telling his mind to quit being such a "hero."

[ QUOTE ]
OOC: for the RPers in the forum

Where is all of this taking place.

[/ QUOTE ]

OCC: Steel Canyon... and with all the newcomers and posts, I'm getting LOST!

OCC: Thanks guys you are awesome!!

Don't put your own "wrting style" down though... some of the stuff I have written I have been really disappointed with... The Sly Fox has only clicked for me because I really CARE about him and can RP him well I think. The trick is, to find something that you LOVE to write about... as it goes now it's hard not to spend a few hours writing his "tail" and NOT level him and fun in the game!!!! That's how much I love developing his story... we'll see, though... gotta get more powers!!!

OCC:

And I missed it all... because I was too damn busy writing my blasted origin... damn...

Chapter 4: Death Breaks the Leash


When last we left Sylvester “Foxtrot” Trotter, he had met the love of his life and lost her, taken his first step on the road that would ultimately lead him to his powers, and managed to narrowly escape death at the hands of his first true super villain… all in the very same day. Following these events, Foxtrot returned to his somewhat predictable life as slave to a contemptible master. Not until 5 years later did anything truly notable happen in Foxtrot’s "tail"… of course, as the old saying goes, when it rains it pours…


…many dark years for The Sly Fox came and went…

Most boys either died, were caught, or were beaten to death under The Wrangler’s rule before they ever reached 18. However, Foxtrot was one of the few who managed to survive. Whether by his will or plain dumb luck (but certainly not by his sharp tongue), Foxtrot lived to reach adulthood as an “outcast” member of the pack. By the year 2002 he was still the leading con man of them all. Foxtrot, now 22, had become the despised freak of the group, yet he was secretly revered by many of the younger boys in the gang, for he was the only one to show them any form of guidance and compassion. As the pack had grown over the years, they had surprisingly become known as a band of “misfit merry men…” and not the old image of dirty street punks.

This entire change in image was all thanks to Foxtrot. As McPheely got increasingly older, he seemed to lose interest in daily lessons for his pack and moved to greedily sitting on his horde of treasure they had won him over the years. This does not mean he want soft, for The Wrangler still dished out torment and fear to any who openly defied him. His core group of “trackers” were also fiercly loyal, and just stupid enough not to ever question the aging Wrangler (McPheely had insured that…)

By now, Foxtrot, could probably have succeeded in his long-time goal of escape if he had so chosen. But Sly had fallen into another trap. He couldn’t up and abandon all the pups that now depended on him. Who knows what they would have to suffer if The Wrangler was forced to pick up the whip and take a more active role in their “education” once again… Nor could he take care of them all on his own if he decided to escape with them, for Simon McPheely still had many loyal and cutthroat trackers at his beck and call, not to mention the swarms of people in the city who owed him favors. Ironically, McPheely had tightened the leash around his neck stronger than ever before, with the obligation he now felt for his adopted younger brothers.

So Foxtrot remained, and managed to teach the new recruits that to survive one didn’t have to constantly make enemies. Allies in their world were just as important as victims, and the more disreputable your victims, the better quality of your allies. Although Simon McPheely was no fool, he let Sly gradually take over his role of teacher, for he had learned in his later years that Foxtrot’s methods provided him with heavier pockets. If The Wrangler had perhaps gotten lazier, he had never lost his greed.

Then, something happened to disrupt their way of life and the lives of every citizen of Paragon. On the afternoon of May 23, 2002, Foxtrot's old friend Pug was walking down the center of Industrial Way when one of his trainees, “Schnauzer,” pointed up into the sky. Thousands upon thousands of red lights were winking down at them, and it was a sight to behold. Pug immediately returned to the pound to tell Foxtrot of the historical development. Foxtrot ordered everyone to remain inside, and only the older members were to venture outside to find out if the heroes and authorities of the city had discovered the light’s origins. Pug was to remain protecting the youngest members in the safety of the pound.

When it was brought to the attention of McPheely, however, the avarious lord of the kennel ordered all “curs” out to loot during the confusion! When the Rikti finally invaded that night, over 90% of the gang, mainly the young ones, were caught in the attack. All perished. Pug was the oldest of the pack to die, having been zapped by a flying alien as he tried to help four trainees back to the safety of the pound. Bull-Dog, who witnessed this death and the deaths of three of his fellow trackers, reported back to McPheely that these invaders were “a bit tuff, mastah.”

During the first attack it was all Foxtrot could do to remain breathing himself. When he finally returned to the pound, badly burned and coughing, he learned of what had happened… the death of Pug hit him the hardest. He was supposed to be safe, they ALL were! was what rang in Sly’s head, over and over again. At this moment, he lost his fear of The Wrangler in a single blaze of pure hatred, obviously suppressed over the years. He was then sent over the edge when approached by Bull-Dog.

“Awe, da mutt gonna cry? Yur little love-boy met his maker, ah ight. I saw it all, I did! If I hadn’t shut dat door behind me fast and let him an da runts in, dem crazy tings might have got me too!” The moronic old bully shook his head almost like he was the luckiest and smartest man on earth.

Foxtrot stared at his old bully. True, since he had turned 20 he had not been beaten by the neanderthal, but that never meant the mental midget hadn’t done everything he could to make his life more unbearable. All that didn’t matter now, though. Pug and who knew who else had died because of him it seemed. And Bull-Dog just laughed, laughed at this whole mess, with the city about ready to collapse around them.

Without a single sly comment or witty remark, Foxtrot swung his fist and knocked the chortling simpleton’s teeth in. Although he had probably broken his hand, the satisfaction of seeing the lout go down like so much wet cement brought a certain justification to Sly’s mind, in the midst of his heart-wrenching grief. His eyes burned... Not one remaining tracker moved to stop him as he walked towards The Wrangler’s private office. In fact, once he passed, they all turned their tails and ran off into the night, oblivious to the chaos around them, sensing on their own everything they knew had suddenly and unexpectedly changed forever.

Foxtrot found Simon McPheely sitting in his chair. Staring at an old parchment in his hands and chewing on his sickening cigar. He did not look up as he approached. Fox reached over, yanked the soggy chew toy from the massive man’s mouth, and threw it on the ground. Only then did The Wrangler slowly look up.

“Knew dis day would come, kit” The once feared master said, quietly. “You come to challenge me leadership, and take charge of me pack…”

Foxtrot couldn’t believe the STUPIDITY of this… pathetic creature before him. He had cringed at his voice for so many years. His back bore scars too numerous to mention by the dusty whip forgotten in the corner of the room. Was Sly really that much of a coward he let this man control him for so long?

“Take… charge… of…. WHAT PACK?? They’re dead, you fat b**tard, DEAD! Dober, Schnauzer, Greyhound, the pups… … Pug… ALL DEAD. And for what, you old senile sonofabitch, FOR WHAT? So you could add just that bit more to your coffers? Your "well-earned" spoils. You’ve always “cried havoc” again and again, simple Simon, but this time you actually “let slip the dogs of war…” let them slip out of the brief but beautiful lives they lived. You are a monster, you hear me, a MONSTER,” Foxtrot grabbed the letter opener off the man he once called master’s desk and held it to his fleshy neck, “and I’m going to end your reign of torture and grief right here, in this “precious” kennel of yours once and for all!”

As Sly breathed heavily, The aging Wrangler stared at him from his cold, beady eyes. They he began a deep, throaty chuckle. Foxtrot stepped back in horror at the madness inside he old slave-driver.

“Ta think, all these years… and I never once thought ya actually CARED for those stupid curs. You war always me biggest threat, Trotter. Always slowly gaining dere worship, dere respect. Here I was, preparing for yar challenge, and you never were gonna. Yar a coward! A little sissy pup-lover who never had the balls ta’ even challenge me. Well, I been preparing, Trotter, I been preparing. And even if the city looks to be over, my pack looks to be over, I’ll be a mutt’s [censored] in hell befar I sees ya get the best of me!”

Before Foxtrot could comprehend what the old fool was saying, The Wrangler began reading from the parchment he had been holding in his meaty, sweaty palms…

“Nox Obivonous Vee Mintrol Samoosoo MORDAFALLO! Sek SLARINDOCK Triveel Vixenus Vee Blorvintious RESIDENSHEE! Sylvester Trotter Sep Nit NOGGASORE!”

As Sly’s ears recognized the one name in the slew of gibberish besides his own, his stomach suddenly burst into fiery pain and he collapsed to the floor, writhing in agony.

“Rarf RARF RAF RAF RAFF!!!’ The Wrangler stood, barking with hateful laughter. “Ya think yar ol mastar can’t put two and two tagehter?? I gathered what you done that day on your first con. I heard the stories. You swallowed that fool Sorcerer’s gem didn’t ya!! Took me quite a load of cash to get me hands on dis, but I was assured by dat merc Tristam I hired it would bring yar death, Foxtrot, yar DEATH!” The Wrangler doubled over with wicked amusement, as Fox bucked at his feet.

As Simon McPheely’s laughter died down, so did Sly’s thrashing. Then, all was still save the distant sounds of explosions outside. McPheely walked over to the motionless Fox and nudged his body harshly with his boot.

“Too bad ya didn’t suffer longer, kit. I would have loiked ta-AHHHHHH!!!”

With a sudden raise of his arm the believed dead figure on the floor sent out pain into McPheely’s very soul. Surround by an eerie blue light, the fat man collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony.

“You paid a hearty sum for the truth, McPheely. The man you knew did die. You are now looking at The Sly Fox!”

The Sly Fox slowly stood and looked down at his would-be-murderer.

"Looking, yes, but not for long!”

With a flash from his forehead The Sly Fox blinded the screaming fat blob once known as “the lord of the kennel.” The reborn man looked over at the parchment which has fallen to the ground and picked it up. He realized he could understand the strange writing and translated it with ease:

“By the power of The Sorcerer Mordafallo! I command the blood of the vixen to LIVE! Slyvester Trotter shall be no more!”

The Sly Fox, at first invigorated by this unknown knowledge and command of powers he seemed to perfectly understand, at once suddenly felt his mind slipping away back to it’s old self. Realizing he had to act quickly before whatever had happened to him stopped, The Sly Fox picked up the groaning Wrangler and shook him roughly.

“Who gave you that parchment!! Where did they get it?” he demanded.

“Man… called Tristam. Dressed in black. Said he was … assassin an teef for hire. Had an… odd tail… Please Foxtrot don’t kill yar old master… I always respected ya, ya know. Always… respected yeah…” slowly the beaten McPheely reached behind his back.

The Sly Fox was too busy pondering all this new information to notice McPheely’s actions. Who was this ‘Tristam?’ His mind shouted. A tail? A long-lost relative of his beloved Aura, perhaps?

As his mind flew in a thousand different directions, The Wrangler, having regained his sight and realizing the previous wounds he had felt were dying away and must have been imaginary, reached around from his back and plunged a knife deep into Sly’s shoulder.

The Sly Fox gasped in pain and let go of The Wrangler, but before he let him come at him, he instinctively threw out his arms and pushed the devious fat Fagan out the window with a suddenly burst of gale force winds. As McPheely flew, the shocked look on his fleshy face would have been quite comical, if Sly could have seen it.

As the dust settled, Sly stumbled to the window to look out. There, impaled on the wrought iron fence lay the remains of Simon “The Wrangler” McPheely… once the most feared and dreaded man of young “pups” everywhere. The Sly Fox had never once before taken a life… but at this moment, he was too tired to care. He lurched through the office, shoulder throbbing, stepped over the still recumbent Bull-Dog, and nearly fell out the entrance. As he stumbled off leaving the pound behind, he entered the night battle still raging throughout the city. The sudden knowledge brought to him by whatever the long digested jewel had done to his body ebbed away. When his strength died, and he collapsed on the ground, he only prayed the invading aliens would incinerate him quikley.

The end of Sylvester “Foxtrot” Trotter has come, but is this also the end for The Sly Fox? ... of course not! We know you aren't stupid, faithful reader, The Adventures of The Sly Fox have only begun!! He may be a changed man, but is he truely a hero yet?? Is this new man merely a product of the magic jewel awakened within him? Or perhaps more a sum of the hardships and tragedies he has endured over his life? Only time will tell… and what of this mysterious Tristam who seemed to have discovered Mordafallo’s secret incantations in hopes The Sly Fox whould be created?? Tune in, faithful readers, for answers to these questions and more in the upcoming installment of our “tail...” Chapter 5: A Fox Among Heroes! Until then! …

Sly closed his mouth, nodded to Helsing, and said "Don't worry Contact. Found and taken care of..."

He then quickly kneels to Deth Aszicen. "Hey there pretty lady, don't feel too down. I was only gone for a second, I'm back." He tries to wink playfully, but his obvious concern shows through.

With a hand still resting on Deth's shoulder, he glaces over at Neko, working her jaw and gaining speech back, and the Dark shroud already enveloping her lithe armored form. Then he notices the deeply innocent and troubled look on Lobe's face.

"Don't worry Lobe, your courage helped us. We couldn't have beaten them without you." Glad to see the light back in the giant's eyes and the huge grin spread on his face, Sly takes in Helsing and Contact once more, and the newly arrived Cywhite robot... and along with CyberJack... all four seem best left to recover on their own.

Sly nods to the new girl with that odd penchant for talking to herself. "Sorry, miss, seems as if we can't keep any thorns long enough to question, but we are heading for a Rebecca Morningstar who might have some informaiton. Hell, with the way things are going we will probably run into even more 'throns in our side!' Or some other whacked out group. Everybody seems interested in this damn idol."

He pulls the statue from his pocket, shakes he head at how such a stupid thing could cause so much trouble, and puts it back.

"So you're welcome to come along if--" Sly breaks off as yet another what looked to be hero walked toward them...

damn... he thought, If people don't stop showing up I'm going to have to introduce myself in front of that infernal white corporate library over there...

Deciding to ignore the appraoching hero and let things work out as they would, Sly turns back his attention to the recovering Deth.

Chapter 3b: The Sorcerer’s Jewels

After knocking and waiting the instructed three seconds, Foxtrot stepped inside and looked around. It was a study, alright, and the occupant seemed to have watched one too many mystery flicks. Skulls with clichéd droopy candles were strewn about the room. Books lined the walls and were laying open, here and there, the writing unreadable. On the large desk in the corner of the room were several trinkets of interest, and Foxtrot immediately focused on these. Some were obviously solid gold, others silver, and a few what looked to be ivory. Fox moved to examine them when a shadow fell across the desk from behind him. He froze.

”I believe the instructions were explicit. The third door on the left. And, after entry, place the books on the desk. Today’s youth is so disappointing…” a deep and yet oily voice reached Sly’s ears.

He slowly turned to find a tall, completely bald man of obvious age looking down at him with solid black eyes. Dressed in dark robes, he had his hands pressed together as if in prayer in front of his chest, but Fox got the uneasy feeling that if this guy wasn’t praying to some dark demon, he was probably praying to himself. On the man's chest was a symbol… the same tattoo the girl had branded on her chest! Some kind of lightning arrow pointing down…The cold stare the man used as he regarded Foxtrot felt like he was reading his very mind… and Fox was a bit scared what the fellow might find in there.

The tall man sighed “I suppose I was asking for this. However I thought my instructions would at least be obeyed up to this point. Wasn’t the atmosphere enough to frighten you boy? I paid quite handsomly for the “Musty Smell Air Fresheners” and the “Terrible Torches of Tortuous Torment” you must have noticed on your way down here. Ah well, everything is so commercialized these days I suppose I shouldn’t have expected much. Damn I wish I had bought those “customer satisfaction” policies. I could have at least returned those purchases to Harga's House of Ill-Repute by now if I hadn’t been so cheap.”

Foxtrot didn’t know whether to laugh or run… well, that’s a lie. He couldn’t help laughing and was laughing so hard he didn’t even think to run.

“So, you find it amusing, do you?” the deep voice oozed out. He smiled a secret smile. ”I suppose it is, boy… yes, amusing. You have my books, I expect you would require your ‘payment?’”

Sly didn’t feel that this encounter was entirely real… the man obviously knew he had disobeyed the servant’s orders… yet here he was getting down to business like it was all a big joke? Perhaps this strange recluse wasn’t as evil as McPheely had led him to believe. But what about that girl? Sly decided to drop his act to learn as much as he could about his new heart’s desire.

”Alright, mister, you know I met her. Who is she? Why are you keeping her here?”

The bald man arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Well, since you ask so politely and even though that is none of your concern, boy… I am feeling so generous today I believe I shall tell you. Aura is my… guest.”

Aura… Fox thought, What a beautiful name…

“I brought her here from her home planet, many light years away. Through the dark abyss that is the void of space, past galaxies and supernovas, black holes and secrets more treacherous than-”

Fox held up an hand. “Yeah, ok man, I get it, really far away, ok. So…? You’re what, some kinda’ ‘Sorcerer?’ Ok, don’t have to explain that either. I get that alright” he rolled his eyes around at the ambiance. “But why is she here? Who IS she? What is her favorite flower?” despite himself he was getting impatient. Besides, this “Sorcerer” seemed more hot air than anything else. After all, he was telling Foxtrot everything and seemed alright. He also suspected that anyone The Wrangler would send him after like this was probably one of the good ones anyway. Just like the overstuffed trainer to mess with his code...

The Sorcerer coughed… “Impatient, I see. Well boy, Aura is here because I wish it. You see,” he reached under his robe and pulled out a necklace of colorful gems. “She increases my powers with these…”

Foxtrot suddenly recalled some of what the girl had yelled at him. He hadn’t remembered until now because he had been so struck by her beauty… suddenly he had an uneasy feeling… and thought for the first time Wait… how come this guy IS telling me everything like this…

“You mean… those gems… her… blood?”

The dark Sorcerer Mordafallo grinned wide for the first time, and his face looked like one of the many skulls littering his study, minus the dribbley candle on top.

“Yes boy! She told you, did she! Her people were fascinating! After many experiments I discovered I could use their blood to create these powerful jewels! Increasing my power, TEN FOLD! Why, all I need is utter my spells and the jewels live! And they LIVE to do my bidding!”

Foxtrot felt horror welling up inside him, and the color drained from his face. “Her people… were fascinating…?”

“Oh yes, I couldn’t let them come after her, could I? They all had to perish. It was inevitable, I’m afraid… oh, who am I kidding! I’m not ‘afraid’ at all!" The madman let out a burst of liquid laughter. "I cherished that pitiful race's destruction! Such people had no right to their inherent powers. Who knows what they would have got up to if I had not come along! It was a mercy killing, really. Pity, the girl doesn’t know I was so merciful to her parents. She was but an infant, you see. Perhaps one day I shall inform her of the truth…”

The young con-artist had never felt so sick to his stomach in his life. This man was truly mad… and his poor Aura… anger Fox never knew he possessed was suddenly awakened in him.

“You’ll never get away with what you have done! I’ll see you suffer for hurting her people!!”

The Mad Magician stopped his reminiscing, looked taken aback, and then burst out in slick, smooth, and shuddering laughter…
“Why, you like my little Aura? Isn’t she quite the exquisite creature? Perfect for my future bride, would you not say, boy?” Mordafallo flung these words out at him.

Foxtrot was incensed! The girl of his dreams was to be his bride?? Fox couldn’t help himself… “Listen, Mr. Wizard, you’re old enough to be her ancestor!! What, do you have some type of ‘magical jewel’ that you ‘think’ is gonna let you use your real jewels??*’ Because I gotta tell ya,’ you can’t get water from a stone!”

*earlier it was stated the the mystery of The Sorcerer’s Jewels was nothing vulgar. While this is still true, sadly, we can’t control The Sly Fox… his comment was only included to maintain accuracy. We apologize for any delicate sensibilities insulted as a result…

The old man turned redder than Fox’s back after one of The Wrangler’s latest punishments. “You contemptible little heathen! You dare presume to wag your filthy tongue at me!! I am glad one so despicable as you answered my add! I asked for one who coudn't read! A simpleton. I found it! Whoever sent you here has seen the LAST of you!! Fool of a boy, thinking I required some whelp to bring me ‘books!’ Yes, I can see in your eyes you know why I have been so open with you! I had no need of a page boy! I needed a stupid mind to conduct my many experiments on! Your screams will last to the very end of eternity. Only through your anguish will you know my true POWERS! No one can save you now! I own the police!! The so called “heroes” are tight-wearing-circus-acts, concerned with minor problems that have no REAL concern on society. Such as petty thug wars, and silly drug-addictions! You can not run, you can not hide! No one has defeated me! No law can catch me! No court has convicted me! And you will never-GURCK”

Foxtrot had made his decision during the Sorcerer’s tirade to do exactly what the insane orator had said had never happened to him, which was to “throw the book at him.” Thankfully, “the book” was Silvian’s Compendium to Carpet Demons… Leather-bound… 2,361 pages long... It had also struck the crazed mystic monk square in the middle of his bald head… Needless to say his vertical fall would have set Foxtrot into hysterics if he had not been so concerned with getting the sam-hell out of this wacky dungeon.

But Fox knew that once free he would be brought back to The Wrangler, even if he did somehow manage to avoid his trackers. It was an inevitability he would have to face without some kind of escape plan. So, he had to steal something to bring back to his master. Searching in vain, knowing he had to conceal it on his person to get past good ol’ Lurch upstairs, his eyes gravitated to the necklace of jewels the unconscious Sorcerer was still clutching.

“Mordafollo, huh. Well… it’s true, a ‘More-daft-fellow’ I have never met… He shouldn’t keep such an ill gotten treasure. Perhaps these could even give me powers to get away from McPheely!”

He reached down and grasped the exposed end of the necklace, but just then Mordafollo began to stir and mumble. Foxtrot was jerked back in surprise, and the necklace broke, sending gems everywhere. All he had was the one bright red one in his hand.

“Damn, can’t be greedy! Besides, one last thing to do!” he said to himself as he left the stirring Sorcerer. Tripping over a globe and knocking it over, he ran down to the first door where he had found the girl. However, as he burst in shouting “Aura, I’m here to rescue… you?” The vision of his dreams was gone. He shouted her name “Aura! Aura!” but to no avail. As he left the room ready to search the rest of the dungeon, he heard the oily voice raised in anger.

“YOU LITTLE B**TARD!! THAT LEFT A MARK!! I SHALL TEAR THROUGH YOU LIKE SO MUCH FIRE WITH MY POW- WHERE THE F*** ARE MY JEWELS!!???”

Despairing he would be caught, but not wanting to leave the girl, Foxtrot was torn. Suddenly, a thin hand gripped him from behind like a vice.

“The mahster is upset. I fear you are to blame. He will be most displeased and ‘pissy’ for quite some time now. You will have to suffer, I’m afraid. Better you than me, eh? Please… walk this way-doof”

The thin servant dropped like a lead sack, his grasp slipping from Fox’s shoulder and his head making an unpleasant smacking sound on the stone floor.

“OH FOR LIBERTY’S SAKE!! THEY ARE ALL OVER THE FRICKEN PLACE!!” the booming voice continued. “HOW THE F*** AM I GOING TO FIND THEM ALL!!???”

From above the prone form of the bludgeoned butler dropped Aura, with an intent look on her face. “I listened at the master’s door and heard all, my “would be rescuer.” I knew Alberto would stop you, so I had to hide and prepare fast! Go now, RUN!” She pushed at him with her hands.

But you’re coming with me!” Sly protested, taking her by the shoulders.

She shrugged him off. “ I am sorry, the collar I wear is bound to him, I can not travel far from his side for fear of death… but it binds him to me as well, if I stay and remain hidden for a time, he will not be able to give chase!”

”OK THAT IS IT. NO MORE MR. NICE SORCERER!! YOU KNOCKED OVER MY 400 YEAR OLD SCOTCH IN MY SECRET GLOBE CONTAINER!! I WAS SAVING THAT!! I WILL CURSE YOU WITH MY- ENBALM YOU WITH- DAMN IT ALL I’M JUST GONNA BEAT THE LIVING CRAP OUTTA’ YOU!!!!

With a quick lean into Foxtrot, Aura kissed him briefly but deeply. He looked into her eyes with heartache. “Roses, red roses.” she whispered to him. “There is nothing you can do for me now! RUN!! With that, she shoved him away roughly, and took off down the other end of the hallway, disappearing around a corner.

“I’ll return for you! You’ll see!!” was all Sylvester “Foxtrot” Trotter was able to say, and would have stayed there motionless, if not for the crashing and cursing coming from the study. With lightning fast speed he raced up the stairs, through the oaken door, down the hallway and right through the front door. For a second, he thought he was in the clear, but then he heard the voice from within the house.

“DAMN AND BLAST YOU SHALL NOT ESCAPE. I SUMMON ETERNAL FIRE OF THE HELL- NO, BETTER, I CURSE YOU WITH COLD OF THE FROSTY- AHH!! TO HELL WITH IT!! HELLO, POLICE? YES, THERE’S BEEN A ROBBERY, A YOUNG BOY JUST ABSCONDED WITH A PRICELESS GEM OF MINE. RED! IT HAS TWO WAVY MARKINGS ON THE SIDE. MY ADDRESS IS-”

Fox didn’t need to hear the rest. Oh why couldn’t it have been the eternal fire of hell?? he thought.

Racing down the street he ducked into an alley, but already he heard the sirens blasting a few blocks away. As he ran he risked a glance behind him. No pursuit! He would get out of this yet! Dodging down another alley, and definetly losing breath by now, Foxtrot ducked into a local diner.

If he could just blend in with the crowd, he would be in the clear. He quickly sat down and ordered some soup. As it was served, and just as he was beginning to relax, sirens pulled up and tires screeched to a halt. The door burst open and Foxtrot willed himself not to turn around.

”Alright people, we’re looking for a house burglar. Every kid in here line up, and prepare to be searched… and this will all run smoothly”

Sly panicked! This was how it would end?? To be arrested and sent to juvie??? He knew arrested members of “the pack” never lasted long. Always meeting with some “accident” or another…

He looked at the dark red jewel in his hand. Could he drop it in the soup? Yes! Then he could escape without being caught! He didn’t even need the gem for The Wrangler if he was going to be arrested because of it anyway!

Trying to be non-chalant he moved his hand over the dish and PLUNK! There now he was free and clear, all he had to do was get searched and-

“Here what was that, young man? What did you drop in there?” the damned waitress asked him in a loud nasal voice.

He saw a cop out of the corner of his eye look up at the question and motion to his partner. He was trapped again! Suddenly, he knew the way out. He didn’t like it, but he seemed to be left with no alternative… Oh well, he sighed to himself… what doesn’t kill us… ... ... I hope...

Smiling disarmingly up at the woman, he said, “Oh just my own secret blend of herbs and spices!” and with a quick motion scooped up the jewel in his soup and downed it in one swallow. He then picked up the bowl and swallowed the contents to wash it down, just as the officer reached him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What are you up to lad? What’s going on here…? Well? What have you got to say for yourself?”

A long silence passed… you could hear a pin drop among the patrons. Then…



“BUUURRRRRRPPPP!!!!!!... … …

...um… excuse me?”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Meanwhile back at the disrupted townhouse.

“I’m sorry, mahster, the young vixen got the drop on me. Shall we send out the contacts to find the boy?” Alberto asked, holding an icepack to his already swelling head.

“We can attempt it, Al, but my guess is he’s long gone by now. Curse that girl. If she wasn’t to be my bride, and wasn’t so damned useful for the power she provides, I’d do away with her… And I really mean it this time Al. I’d really do it. I swear!” Mordafallo also had a large icepack perched on his shiny head.

“Of course, mahster, of course. But what about the jewel? The boy could seriously use that to his advantage. It was the cornerstone of your powers.”

“Never fear, faithful Al. He could never unleash it’s true might. Not unless he knows the secret incantations only I possess!” The sulking Sorcerer winced, and looked up form his reclined position on the couch at his manservant. “But this damned incident may have brought unwanted attention from the hero front. Pack up your things, Al. We’re leaving for now…”

In the next room, the young girl listened to her life captor’s words… and silently cried…

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Ironically, when Foxtrot finally was brought in by The Wrangler’s trackers, Simon McPheely was all smiles. It seemed he had known much of who the Sorcerer Mordafallo really was, and had been using Fox as a pawn the entire plot. Knowing he had to find out what the rogue wizard was up too, but not wanting to risk getting caught, he had sent Sly to gain information for him. If the little b***tard was killed, so be it. As much as he was a boon to McPheely’s organization, he had no attachment to just another one of his ‘curs.’

However, he not only got Mordafallo to pick up roots and abandon town, he also got the added bonus of his favorite “pet” returned to him. He was further pleased as punch to learn Foxtrot thought the incident a failure, and thus could control him better with a reminder of this fact.

Fox never mentioned the jewel to The Wrangler, and all but soon forgot about it. That night he had lain awake, writhing in pain as it felt like the hard lump in his stomach was fusing into his body. When he awoke the next morning, the pain was gone, and so was the feeling of a weight inside him. From that point on he put it out of his mind, little knowing what the forgotten act would lead to…

Before Sly could learn of the Sorcerer’s departure, he returned to the townhouse as soon as he was able. Finding it abandoned, he sat forlornly on the steps… his only thought of the one girl he had met in his life up to this point he truly knew he loved… and had lost just as quickly…

…from his hands, slipped a single red rose to the cold ground…

So ends the second half of Chapter 3! Keep following, readers, for the next chapter of our in-depth “tail!” The Rikti invade! An old villain returns!! And Sylvester “Foxtrot” Trotter finally becomes… “The Sly Fox”! Until then!

Chapter 3a: The Sorcerer’s Jewels

Sylvester Trotter lived as Foxtrot of “the pack” for seven long years. Throughout that time, he constantly was reminded of his mistake to join the gang of delinquents. Foxtrot was never truly part of the group. His own nickname enforced this fact. The Wrangler’s lackeys took any chance they got to beat up on the young orphan, Bull-Dog always in the lead as the chief instigator. McPheely himself even seemed to encourage it, as Foxtrot showed him nothing but insubordination.

His only saving grace, and the reason perhaps McPheely did not allow the pack to tear him apart, was that he was the largest earner of the motley group. He earned The Wrangler more spoils than any of his “pups” before him. He was quick, clever, and always seemed to pick just the right mark. He soon became so good as a cut-purse, McPheely moved him onto cons before his first year with them was up, something that had never been heard of in their circle before.

With all this “success” in the business, Foxtrot was still able to keep some of his values intact. With much effort and personal risk, he constantly went against The Wrangler’s orders in choosing his targets. He would go after only those that he felt either deserved losing something, or who would obviously not miss a loss. Everyone from street thugs to corrupt politicians were not safe once in Foxtrot’s crosshairs, and McPheely found that while this tactic seemed too “vigilante” for him, he had to admit that the marks gave up much sooner in pursuing their lost valuables, and seldom called the authorities.

Despite these facts, The Wrangler made sure this obvious challenge to his authority did not go unpunished. Foxtrot constantly felt the sting of rawhide on his back, for anything from a smart-aleck comment to an order to pinch someone’s wallet disobeyed. He received many scars from The Wrangler, and sometimes he would silently weep as the fire on his back kept him awake. The other “curs” would also take any opportunity to make his torment that much more difficult, from taunts to outright beatings.

Foxtrot only had one single ally among them. This was the shrimp “Pug,” who looked on Foxtrot’s defiance with awe and admiration. Foxtrot also knew deep in his heart that Pug enjoyed the fact he was no longer the brunt of redicule and abuse, and was relieved Foxtrot had taken his place. However, the young Fox accepted Pug’s small kindness, regardless of the cause. For he knew more than anyone the value of a few cents when the alternative was an empty pocket.

One last important thing to note of this time in The Sly Fox’s life was that he was not some slave "whipping boy" sadly resigned to his fate. During his first month with the gang, Foxtrot attempted to escape. However, he was betrayed before his attempt by Pug… and received his first lesson from The Wrangler’s lashing. Fox understood the betrayal, and figured The Wrangler probably knew anyhow before Pug was forced to talk. The young runt had had to talk and Fox had put him in danger as it was by confiding in him about his first plan. However, it still shocked Pug when he forgave him, but it cemented their budding friendship all the more. His plots to run never abated, though, and the pack almost enjoyed to find out what he would do to break free next. Foxtrot, however, had severely underestimated who he had brought into his life with Simon McPheely, and vowed never to make such a grievious error again… if he even got the chance.

When Foxtrot was first “promoted” to the position of confidence worker, an event of great import occurred that would foreshadow his future as the hero he is today. Many liberties are sadly taken with the following tale, as most witnesses were either unavailable for comment, or would not talk to us. The Sly Fox himself, of course, remains tight lipped on what follows…

Sly had been with “the pack” for about 8 months. Now 17, he had tried his best to remain the person he thought he always was, but he couldn’t shake the fact that boy was no more… The dashing youth who had foiled the corrupt rich time and again seemed long gone. In his place was the whipped "minoin" of an evil tyrant who barely got away with his own thoughts. Even worse, Sly felt unable to change his situation. Two failed escape attempts had already proved unfruitful. Sly could still feel the marks of his last attempt making his back throb. The damned Wrangler seemed to be able to smell his very intentions. Life seemed hopeless to ever change.

Finally though, “Foxtrot” was being given the chance to have more control over his servitude. He was no longer a lanky, dirty pickpocket scrounging valuables from pedestrians in the streets. On his first con mission now, he hope to prove to McPheely that perhaps he could rake in larger scores. This could only help him become a better asset to the “Alpha Adult,” and that could lead to new possibilities for more trust and perhaps a greater chance at freedom.

Foxtrot could still hear The Wrangler’s briefing now…

“Ok, little fox,” The Wrangler had almost spat. “Dis malarkey is wealthy, but not all that much is known about ‘im. He just moved to ar fair city, from god knows what mansion, and he’s already mixed in with the more… heh… affluent circles that I tend to keep me eyes on.”

“Didn’t know your mother taught you such big words…” Foxtrot had quipped, always ready to add insult to his injury.

“Shut ya’ yapper, kit,” McPheely had barked, using the name he often picked when he wanted to jab at Foxtrot’s insolence mentally. “Dis mark is ripe for the pickin’, but I’d still consider ‘im an unknown danger. So... I figures he’s the perfect assignment for the one member of me pack who I don’t care to lose. Ya fallah?” The obese trainer chuckled cruelly.

“Now he’s got a townhouse in the Atlas district. I got you a position as some kinda’ book runner assistant he advertised fer. Ya see, he seems ta be interested in arcane arts, and has known to have certain dealins with da more… ‘unsavory’ elements of society. Another point in yer favor, Foxtrot. Ya do seem to not wanna go after da 'goody-goods,' eh?" The Wrangler’s disdain was apparent… “I suppose I’ll contin-ya ta let dat slide fer now and use it…” He said, hinting this trait of Foxtrot’s was temporary...

“Now get ya hide over dere and see what youse can find out about weaknesses, security, and what he’s hiding up dere dat we could ‘take off his hands…’ If you get jer chance to win his confidence, USE it. ‘Member, he asked for a quick boy who doesn’t ask questions and can’t read, so fer now you ‘can’t! Heh… and don’t ferget… yar always bein’ watched… WELL!?? What ya’ waitin’ fer!!?? MUSH!”

After getting the order from the dingy bookstore, Foxtrot was now waiting on the steps of the old building. It seemed he had rung the bell hours ago, when slowly the door opened and a drabbed faced, skeleton of a man looked down at him.

The servant’s lip curled in apparent disgust. “Yeesss?” he drawled.

Foxtrot had already adapted to his role. Stooping his shoulders and not looking the man directly in the eye, she mumbled, “M’ names Tom, sir. Got Master Mordafallo’s books, like he asked fer.”

“Yesss… the mahster shall want to pay you himself. This way… please…” The British butler beckoned dismissively, and “Tom” entered the old townhouse. The door slammed behind him, and the sudden dim light unnerved even the experienced Foxtrot.

“Kindly follow me. And do not touch anything…”

Fox followed the butler through a long hall, past quite a few doors, all shut tight. Each window had the curtains drawn as well, and while the obvious wealth of the place was apparent, it had quite the unpleasant musty odor. To Foxtrot’s surprise, he was led past a grand stairway leading up to a door under the banister. The servant removed a key from his vest and unlocked the heavy oak doorway, opened it, and once again beckoned before him with a dismissive air.

”Down the stairs, knock on the third door to the left, wait for three seconds, open the door, place the books on the desk inside the study, and kindly await the mahster to enter the room… please…” the oh-so-jubilant Jeeves recited.

“But-”Fox began.

The butler cut him off with an icy stare.“The mahster asked for quick, do not keep him waiting…”

Feeling like he had best keep the man happy, Foxtrot entered gloom of the descending stairway. No sooner had his foot landed on the first step, the door slammed behind him and the lock clicked, plunging him in eerie torchlight from hangings along the wall.

What the hell is this, Foxtrot tried to joke with himself, Dracula? Oh well, nowhere to go but forward… err... and down...

The lad’s footsteps echoed on the stone stairs, and he seemed to pass at least a minute traveling downward… finally he arrived at another gloomy hallway… however, before he could get to the third door, he seemed to hear muffled crying coming from the 1st door on his right… hoping to gather a bit more information than he was likely to get by strictly following “Lurch’s” rules… Foxtrot glanced around him, and quickly slipped into the room beyond, closing the door behind him.

The crying abruptly stopped, and as Fox turned he was dumbstruck by the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life. Small with bright red hair, she looked at him through brilliant (although red and teary) light blue eyes with a look of shock. Her extremely pale skin and delicate features gave her an angelic quality. She was wearing a drab black dress of an almost old Victorian style, and for some reason a golden collar around her neck… and on her chest seemed to be some sort of red tattoo. An odd twitching behind her proved upon further examination to be a… tail?

Who and what is this?? Fox’s mind shouted, And how do I get her number?

Although surprised the young girl’s fragile appearance soon turned to a fiery indignation. ”Who are you and what are doing here?? she shot at him in a fierce whisper. Doesn’t he take enough from me without sending in his servant boys to gawk and stare? Get out!”

“Duuhhh…” was all Foxtrot could uncharacteristically utter.

“He siphons my blood to make his ‘precious jewels.’ Now he must take my dignity as well!! Get out!” She almost screamed the last at him, and, fearing discovery, Fox quickly retreated from the sorrowful glare filled now with hate.

Foxtrot quietly closed the door and stopped, leaning his forehead against the solid oak. She was breathtaking. He had to discover her name… why she was obviously being held captive… and what her favorite flower was…

Practicality soon returned to his mind, however, when he realized in order to achieve these goals he couldn’t be caught and become a prisoner himself. He already had little freedom as it was (thinking of the definite watchers The Wrangler must have had outside the building even as he stood here). Foxtrot sighed, promising himself he would see her again, and walked on to the third door.

Chapter 3: The Sorcerer's Jewels must be continued in our next installment! Please return soon to find out more about the mysterious girl, and exactly what the mystery is behind the Sorcerer’s Jewels*!

*we promise, nothing vulgar.

Sly seemed to be totally out of his league today. (Of course, being used to such a position, it did not worry him as it might a hero who often had the upper hand.) If he wasn't getting pummled accidently by the cute cat, he was being befuddled by the alluring Deth. Then, when he had finally thought he had a grasp on how to handle this, he suddenly felt his mind thinking of the shadowy Master with the whip from his youth, and the fear he had long thought conquered. When Contact suddenly stumbled forward, the image vanished... however as Fox recovered his noticed Cyberjack and the new robot arrival still seemed to be ill at sorts...

He galnced at this other newcomer who seemed to enjoy talking to herself.
"Pleased to meet you, M'Lady," he nodded. "I'll let introductions slide for now, as it seems our comrade Contact is still feeling the effects of whatever that was..."

Sly approached Contact and steadied the psychic. "You ok? Any idea what that was?" In a second Sly put two and two together and got five...

"You stopped it, didn't you?" He slapped Contact on the back, earning a glare from the recently spent hero. "Sorry, but well done! Now what is still effecting our robotically inclined friends here...?"

At least one thing good has come of this, he thought, looking around for the energy sapping culprit, I didn't have to register with that damned white robot. I think I may have to use an alias with that guy... I don't like organizations to know too much about me...

The Dyslexic Defender:

"Die I say you will, [Censored]!"

"Now you see me, Now you don't!"

and [b]The Nutty Professor's[b] is:

"I'm gonna mold you like Flubber!"

OCC: Still hasn't come it yet? Whoa... I feel for you. Anyway, thanks again and I hope you look me up in Paragon once it's does!!

P.S. Actually it's funny you say that... because Baby Genius and Nubile Nanny were in my head to appear in Chapter 4 or 5... we shall see!

[ QUOTE ]
OOC: I love Fox's story so far, if anything for the humor and nature of the character. I've seen so many heroes have either the Noble Good-guy mentality, or the Dark Cynic one. Fox is delightfully neither. I'm looking forward to seeing how he gets away from The Wrangler and becomes a hero!

[/ QUOTE ]

OCC: Thanks Mackie! It's nice to finally get some feedback. I was begining to wonder if my story wasn't original enough!

I have to say that the crowning moment of this game for me was stubbling upon a character that I LOVED. Loved being, loved playing, and loved creating. I'm a thespian IRL, and the thrill of roleplaying is more near and dear to me than anything else about this game.

I think I'll play for a little bit tonight, and then attempt to write the next chaper tomorrow. Hope to see you in Paragon!