| First Mate Jackie, Meet Captain Foxy | ||
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| Summary: Captain Foxy boards First Mate Jackie's vessel to save him from pirates only to learn that the ship is larger than expected. Who: Fazbear and Friends, Jack Hawksmoor When: November 18, 2019 Where: On a Rooftop near but not on the MCPD   |
Thunk, thump. What might be heavy footsteps emanate from nearby despite the audio dampening effect that snow has layered about. It might almost be lost to the noises of the city, yet they suddenly speed up. Thump-thunk-clunk-thunk-clunk-thump. The metallic sound approaches quickly and, from a nearby building, a shape rushes toward the edge and leaps! A crunch of impact announces the sudden appearance of this figure before sliding some feet along. It appears to be a tall bipedal fox with red fur, an eye patch, a right-handed hook, a naval coat with epaulets, a captain's bicorne hat, a belted strap across the chest, and simple brown trousers. The fox's left hand -- bare and mechanical the same as its lower legs and feet -- also wields a cutlass. "Arr, ye vessel now be boarded by the famous Captain Foxy, fiercest pirate to sail th' many seas. Yarr ha ha ha har." With a flourish, the pirate fox cuts a swatch through nonexistent foes with the flashy sword. The individual...who appears to be human except for, perhaps, a red glint to his eyes and the odd soles of his feet blinks three times, then bursts out into ringing laughter. It's not mocking laughter, mind, but more appreciative. He flips up to his feet neatly. "I'm afraid I'm not equipped to give you a challenge." He shows his empty, sword-less hands. There is something almost believable about the choreography and how the invisible fighting is handled that lends itself the notion of actually meeting resistance against other swords and shields before giving way in clean slices and thrusts. Or, you know, it could be because each impact is accompanied by the sound of metallic clangs of weapon against weapon. "Aye, lad, but ye needn't worry. Rival pirates have beset ye intending to claim ye booty. Best be thankful me fight be with them! Arr!" The Suddenly Pirate ducks to avoid a swing from a foe, only to leave his hat behind as it comes off of his head. That hook snags it before rolling across the snow and cleanly striking a blow from beneath. Rising once more, the hat is swung upward to plop onto the fox's head just behind his ears. Grinning, looking over at Jack, the pirate strikes a broad-armed pose. "Huzzah! Victory be m-" The sword in his hand is suddenly ejected, spinning end over end, before sliding through the layer of snow to stop near Jack's feet. "Beware, one be left -- a surprise attack!" yells the fox in warning before ducking away from...nobody. Honestly, there's nobody there at all. Clearly. Jack Hawksmoor picks up the sword with all the expertise of somebody who has never held one before. He knows which way the pointy end goes, but that's clearly about it. "Uh..." He narrows his eyes and they flicker red. What is *there* that he can't see... Taking up position behind Jack, at a comfortable distance at least, the naval fox peers to one side while his hook hand is raised so that he can lift his eyepatch and peer. "Aye, ye can take him, lad. He be leadin' with his right and he be lacking a shield." It's the most ridiculous thing, really. No. There's -nobody- and -nothing- there. Yet, the fox coaches on anyway is if this were a sudden mini-boss fight. "Raise yer sword -- even if it be mine -- to protect yer body and face. Parry his attacks. Riposte!" Okay, so...this guy's some kind of street performer. Jack does his best to comply, although it's clear he's just not a swordsman. A fighter, from the stance, but perhaps more used to defending himself *without* a weapon. "The sword be an extension of ye arm, me hearty." The fox gets a little closer from behind. "Change ye stance, lad. Legs shoulder-width apart. Back foot pointing to ye left, front foot pointing straight ahead. Unused arm held back for balance." The pirate glares at the foe approaching, apparently slowly enough to give pointers and tips, before the fox creature reaches out with that hook to, with great practiced caution, help adjust arm position. "Don't put too much stress on yer wrist. A sword can be a heavy thing, arr!" This sword? Well, it's not that heavy. Metal, yes, but probably a stage prop. It certainly isn't actually sharp. Jack Hawksmoor is actually listening. Even though this is crazy and possibly the cyborg or robot fox is hallucinating, the *instruction* sounds solid. It might come in handy one of these days. "Got it." He's got some grace to his movements, at least, and he's certainly not worried about how close the edge of the roof is. "Use ye forearm for movement. Yer wrist be what ye use for quick slashing movements. We o' th' pirating world call that 'better leverage'." It's surprisingly solid: F=ma after all. Movements of the wrist to increase the acceleration of the mass of the blade is going to increase the amount of Force distributed. Pirates know math?! A bizarre and impromptu fencing lesson, perhaps. However, once satisfied, the fox takes a step back so that he isn't in the way; he too doesn't seem all that worried about the edge of the building, either. Heights don't bother him. "He be advancin', lad! Raise ye blade to deflect his blow, then counter in th' opening!" Jack Hawksmoor swings the blade where he imagines the other blade might be. He's actually very aware of where the edge is; he's not going over unless he intends to. It might not LOOK that way, though. He feints down towards the opponent's legs. After this, he's going to find out who the heck the pirate IS. The fox's jaw drops open for a moment up until he speaks, "He be slippery one, aye?! Ye almost changed his leg's name t' Peggy. Remember, lad, ye want to protect yer limbs and body and neck, but if ye get a solid opening above, ye can spring a kick from below, too. Just watch ye don't wind up with a peg leg, also. Losing a hand be rough enough, I tells ye. Yarr." At all this, the mechanical fox sidles away to circle around. A single finger is placed to the front of his muzzle in a gesture to 'be quiet', since the clunk of each footstep made is every bit of ninja. Tip-toeing forward in exaggerated effort, the pirate captain raises both arms and then brings them down in order to grapple with the invisible foe from behind. If it's pantomime, it's really well done. The struggles seem authentic in the way his body rocks and jerks and those arms 'flex' in resistance. "Quick, lad! Quick! Ye've no choice but to run him through!" Jack Hawksmoor is actually trying not to laugh at this point as he pretends to run through what he knows isn't real. Mabase knows it's not real. This guy's *good* at what he does. Could sell tickets! The fox's eye widens as a terrible sound leaves his mouth when the foe is run through. Free hand gripping the blade of the sword in a tug to tuck the end of the cutlass underneath an arm at his side all in one smooth motion, which may wrench the weapon from the hand of the one so using it, the pirate captain stumbles backwards. The metal fingers holding that blade aren't soon to let go at the risk of losing the illusion. In a daze, mortally wounded, this Captain Foxy wobbles in place. "Ye did good, lad. Yer vessel now be safe and-" Cough cough, goes the fox with a light glint from his gold-capped teeth. "-and now ye can defend it from here on without me." Stumble clank. "Just promise me--promise me, lad, that ye never forget what ol' Captain Foxy did fer ye." And then, with all the grace of an upturned toybox, the fox collapses onto the snow-lined roof, noisily, and swaps his left hand on the blade with his right-hand hook so that he can dramatically reach up toward the sky one last time before falling still. Jack Hawksmoor does let go of the sword, although it appears to be intentional, part of the game. He drops to one knee next to the robot. Cyborg. Whichever he is. "Brilliant." It's a rather extended death and the pile of naval-garbed fox thing is clear to see without all the flashy movements and imaginary foes serving as a distraction. He certainly looks to have been in a number of fights or something, if the wear and tear and damage is any indication. Beyond the fabric of his coat, along the chest, rips and holes in his worn furry pelt reveal mechanical innards. Foxy remains still, sword handle sticking up, eye wide open. How long is too long where it reaches to point of being awkward? He looks like he could use a good robot mechanic. Jack idly wonders where one might be found in this city. Oh wait. The RAT. He's betting the rat could help. "You look like you've seen better days," he comments, sitting down next to the 'dead' fox. It's true, the fox looks really beat up and time-worn, although a lot of the damage is in the aesthetics. Otherwise, the clothing and the vulpine parts still undamaged are very well crafted. Silently, the pirate lies there with not a hint of life in him. No motion. No sound. It's a very stark contrast to the noise and movement from the sudden appearance of the last few minutes. That said, there is the faintest weakest little glow of red from the iris of Foxy's exposed left eye. This place contains the Strange and Unusual. Jack Hawksmoor's eyes have that habit too. "You can get up now. I'm very curious how you did it." Or what the robot is up to. Or maybe he DID pass out. Yup. He looks beat up, and who knows what might be going on with, say, his power plant. Still silence. Uh... However, what sounds like a tape player's audio kicking in before the reels are fully up to speed has spoken audio start slow and work its way up to normal. At first, there is absolutely no movement as the first few words crawl up to something normal, but then there is movement from the mouth, out of sync, that also has to work its way back into something that doesn't look like a badly dubbed cartoon. "....wwwweeeeellcooome wweelcoome oonee aand all to Captain Foxy's Pirate Adventure!" The fox sits up, jolting upright, and the sword clatters harmless to the rooftop. "Ye wee tykes and sailor-t'-be's, hold on t' yer sodie pops and pizza slices, for fun and adventure await ye all in Pirate Cove." There's a pause that follows, the fox looks around a bit, and then gazes directly at the man nearby. "You started out as a theme park mannequin!" Jack abruptly exclaims. Of course. Now it all makes sense. He may have made five rather than four, but he is a detective and he puts stuff together. He meets the fox's gaze. Is there anyone in there? He's pretty sure there is. The fox furrows his brow in a very realistic way before shifting his eye from side to side in a self-conscious gesture. "...be there something on me face?" finally asks the captain while raising his left hand to speak behind it so that nobody else can hear. "Only fur," Jack says, smiling a little bit. "You look like you could use some sprucing up." The fox's eyes light up, figuratively, as he lifts a single finger in a moment of 'ah ha!' before laughing. "Ye forgot about me eye patch." ...ah ha?! Either way, the now sitting fox creation reaches up to adjust his hat. Funny that it didn't fall off when he crumpled over. "Honorary pirate ye may now be, but Captain Foxy be not a dolly for dressing up. Being pretty be for tavern wenches, aye? Nothing wrong with a dashing rogue being handsomely disheveled, be there?" Jack Hawksmoor laughs a bit. "Good point. I did meet a good tinkerer type, though, a rat named Twitch." Jack shrugs a bit. "But nothing wrong with being disheveled, no." He grins. "Just don't expect me to actually get on a ship." "Ye don't have a ship o' yer own?" A beat and a half separates before, "O' course ye do! How else do ye sail th' concrete seas, peering about to watch fer danger, while ye hunt fer ye most wanted treasure?" The fox goes about rising to his feet where he has the pure presence of mind to straighten his coat and brush things off a bit before giving his floofy tail a quick shaking out. One metallic toe presses against the very tip of the blade where it lies and he uses his other foot to kick the tool upward into the air where he can catch it and slip it through the loop of belt around his torso, at the waist, on his right hip. A curious look is passed about. "Where exactly be ye anchored today? Somewhere with rats aboard, ye say, aye?" "You might say the city's my ship," Jack said. "Although I suppose I'm not the Captain, not really." That would be Bishop. "And the rat seems very nice." "Aye?" A thoughtful look is passed off to the side as the fox lifts his right arm to scratch lightly under his chin with the hook. "A ship th' size of a city, ye say? Ye sure could fit a lot o' plunder on one o' those. But could we find enough o' me Pieces O' Eight fer everybody aboard?" Captain Foxy turns to face the man rather directly for the first time in the encounter. "Ye be knowing the who o' me, but who be ye? Not a captain, say ye; a quartermaster? Nay. The lookout! Aye, poised high above in the Crow's Nest. Arr ha ha ha ha harr." Ever been offered a hook to shake? Well, there it is. "What do we call ye, Scout?" A laugh. "Jack Hawksmoor, and nay, not either of those. Well, perhaps quartermaster is closer." Explaining this in nautical terms is hard, and apparently that's how the fox thinks. "There we go, Jackie. A right proper int- right proper introduction. Well done!" The hook is offered to shake for am oment longer before it is withdrawn completely. His other hand moves to his coat pocket and mechanical fingers dip inside. "Ye've been such a good sport playing along, lad, that I be happy to give this to ye." The hand is held out, fingers closed around an item, palm down, ready to deposit the mystery item if it's accepted. And what is the mystery item? An aged 'gold' coin. On one side is the likeness of the fox's face, on the other is text printed around the edges: Foxy's Pieces O' Eight. And printed across the center are two words: Game Token Jack Hawksmoor takes it. He's not entirely sure what purpose it has, but he can tell it has one. Or at least it means something to the fox. "Dum dum dum, de dum diddly-dum," voices the pirate fox in what could only be described as joyful. He looks as if he could easily break into a little jig, but he doesn't. Yet. "Ye should gather up ye crew, rats and all, for a meet 'n greet sometime, aye, quartermaster? Ye must have a splendid captain fer being th' first mate." Jack Hawksmoor snorts a bit, but elects not to explain right now. The token is slipped into an inside pocket of his jacket. "I'll see what I can do." Rat plus fox. Should be...interesting, at least. "Fooooooxy!" comes a voice from elsewhere as the layer of snow continues to effectively dampen most distant sounds. "Foxy?" A figure stands on the rooftop from where the pirate fox first leapt. Whomever it is is certainly a bit taller than the fox, broader, and wears some kind of hat. "How did you get over there?" This alarms the fox a bit who takes a step backward twice (and nearly steps right over the edge of the roof). "Uh oh. The great Kraken breaks from the sea! All hands on deck! Hoist the anchor! Unfurl the sails! Heave-ho, lads, before the beast overtakes us!" The fox is in a real hurry to leave at this rate and calls out commands to nobody in particular. "Ye not be taking me to Davy Jones' Locker today!" he calls out in return. The figure on the other roof places their hands on their hips in unamused fashion. "Friend of yours?" Jack asks, his eyes glinting red as he extends his senses to try and identify the figure. Across the way, the figure, which is some kind of bipedal bear with a bow tie and top hat, scrunches up his muzzle and looks down at the ground below over the edge of the building stood upon. The bear is, notably, in fantastic shape compared to the fox despite being something of the same style as the vulpine...minus the pirate accessories. Removing his hat with one hand, the ursine scratches between his ears in thought before replacing his hat and turning to exit the roof down the way he first came. "Hmm?" asks the fox with a lift of one eyebrow. "Oh, nay, he be merely the band manager." Insert toothy grin here. Jack Hawksmoor ahs. "What kind of band? You certainly know how to perform." Maybe they can do a show at the Usual some time... "The kind that play music, lad. Not the rubber kind," quips the fox with playful snark. "But, aye, we have played at the Usual. Many times." Of course, which Usual might be something to wonder about, too. "We be having our own place t' play, too. We just haven't found it again yet. Like buried and lost treasure, we be searching far and wide until we find it again. Some day, Jackie. Some day." Turning around, Foxy faces the edge of the building and peers over and downward, too. "Arr, I best be moving along else the bear may catch up." Jack Hawksmoor grins a bit. "Well, maybe one day I'll be able to help." Maybe. For right now. "For right now, I had better be going." He stands, stretches, and sets off at a run, NOT in the direction of the bear. He leaps across to the police building, hits the wall, sticks, and scurries upwards rather like a giant humanoid insect. He's sticky? Apparently. | |
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