Caran was, for the last couple of days at least, straight up not having a good time. Gotten caught in a Branwen raid, enslaved, shoved in a cage and put on a cart with a bunch of other faunus was not her definition of fun.
She didn't think it was anyone's definition of fun. And that statement didn't even come close to doing justice to the things she had experienced.
She brokenly wondered where her boy, Paujo, was. She knew he was on another cart.
At Least the nights were not cold. The campfire was both hot enough to just barely feel it from her cage, and the huddled mass of bodies provided a dirty ambient warmth.
Like laying in a festing bog that would likely drown and preserve you.
Then that… person came along. He- Caran assumed that they were a he, judging by his build- had snuck into the camp. Caran was amazed that he had gotten so close without being noticed. She had noticed him when another girl in the cages gave him a weary one eyed stare.
He had responded by putting his hand to his mouth, motioning them to be quiet.
And then he unleashed possibly the most brutal slaughter Caran had ever seen in her life. Not even the bandit tribe had slain with such efficiency.
Caran started counting her prayers when the man approached her cell, reeking of blood. The red stuff had splattered against him, staining his cloak.
Wait, was that moss growing on him? Was he some kind of wild man? Or an Arrbra Chelo like in the Holy Books?
The man spoke, his face hidden in the backlighting from the fire. "Be not afraid." he said in her native tongue. Sure, it could have also been translated as "do not be afraid." but the phrase itself was literally what the Angels spoke to the various prophets and holy men upon their meeting.
"You will suffer no harm from me."
Caran stared at him. Holy Mesto, he was an Arrbra Chelo. Perhaps he was a form of Karmora itself.
The Karmora grasped the lock that held the cage closed, and his fist clenched. The metal bent under the grey glowing fist until there was a snapping sound. The Karmora released his hand, letting the shards of the lock fall to the ground. The cage door swung open as the Karmora turned to another cage.
He ripped the lock off of this one, freeing the yellow eyed girl from before. Caran watched as the Karmora freed the fellow slaves, one by one. The locks fell, ruined and broken under the shattering grey hand.
Caran looked for her child, Paujo in the small crowd of newly freed Faunus. She saw her little panda boy standing wobbly on his own two feet. She ran over to her boy, falling to her knees and holding Paujo close to her chest. The mother turned to the Kamora. "Thank you so much." She pleaded to him.
"Jaune." He said softly. No, not softly. He didn't project his voice, but it carried nonetheless. Caran blinked.
"My name is Jaune." He reiterated.
Caran stared at this… Jaune. She wracked her brain for any name in the holy scriptures that would have a name like "Jaune."
She came up blank. Sure, there were some sounds similar enough, but those were not names that any sane parent should give their child.
"Jaune." Caran said, rolling the word on her tongue. She looked up from her baby boy, only to see that he had vanished to help the others to their feet.
Jaune walked away from the touching family moment to go help someone else to their feet. He pushed an oncoming headache to the back of his mind.
That wasn't important right now. These people were. Jaune weighed his options at the moment.
He clearly couldn't just leave them here. They were going to be grimm chow A said
Yes, but they'll slow us down. We are on a time limit, you know. B responded.
Jaune shut B up. They were not leaving them behind.
But did he have them march in the night, or stay here?
They were tired, probably malnourished and in no condition to make good ground. However, having them just kind of sleep in a bloodied battlefield seemed like an equally bad idea.
Jaune helped a middle aged man to his feet.
Jaune glanced at the corpses he had left behind. They didn't turn to dust here, nor did they reek of booze. It was probably more disturbing than in the dream, where they dissipated once you looked away from them for a bit.
Those will attract grimm. That and these people. B put in his two cents. Jaune nodded, giving his chin a scratch.
"We must be going. This place will be swarming with grimm within some hours." Jaune called out to the refugees. He started to clear off the carts, sending the cages tumbling to the ground. The more able bodied refugees saw what he was doing, and caught in, pulling the cages off.
They had set off within ten minutes, having managed by some miracle to fit everyone in the three carts.
Jaune took the back most cart, driving the horses as best he could. He knew that beowolves, should they attack, would chase from the back to enforce an ambush up ahead. Their best option would be to break the weaker force and move backwards, so to speak. Jaune kept a wary eye out during the night.
A young child, a boy named Yuuba, at least Jaune thought it was Yuuba. It could be Yeuba? Feral is hard. Anyway, Yuuba tugged on Jaunes' cowl. Jaune looked down at the child, whose ears were pinned behind them.
"What is it, child?" Jaune asked.
Yuuba yawned. "It's late, Sakrra Jaune." he managed to get out. "Won't you sleep? It is a high moon and you must be tired."
Jaune laughed, giving a tender glance to the world around him. "Tell me, Yuuba, look around." he instructed. "What do you see?"
Caran perked up from her seat in the back of the cart. It was rare, in the short time, that the Karmora spoke. Yuuba shrugged.
"I dunno, trees? Plants?"
Jaune nodded. A far answer. A reason. "Yes, there are trees. And there are plants." jaune admitted. "But i don't see that."
Wait. That's not quite right. You do see that. B interjected. Jaune mentally rolled his eyes at him, ignoring him for the moment. Shut up. I'm trying to sound cool and wise. He responded.
"I see life. Everywhere you look, the world is teeming with life. I admire such life, and such life should be cherished." Jaune said wisely, before cracking a grin. "And someone must make sure nothing bad happens to your people." jaune said, his limited amount of Feral prevented him from using his normal slang. Sure, he knew more than enough to get his point across, but only rather formal words.
It really made him sound like a foreigner, someone not used to the language.
Yuuba nodded. "You should sleep, child." Jaune said, returning his eyes to the road. "We have long roads ahead of us." Yuuba yawned, leaning against the soft mossy feathered cloak.
Jaune watched the sun rise from a moving cart the next morning. He could feel the strain from staying up for two? Yeah two days in a row.
He would have to sleep soon. Perhaps sometime today he could sneak in a cat nap. The horses had obediently marched through the night, but the toll was clear.
"Let us let the horses rest." Jaune called out to the other carts. "They deserve it, and besides, we could use a moment to stop for food."
The other drivers nodded, and got off. The horses were detached and led to the edges of the road. Jaune got off his own cart, carefully leaning Yuuba flat down.
"Where are you going, Karmora-Jaune?" The middle aged woman, Caran, if Jaune remembered, asked. Her son, Paujo was huddled close to her.
"To gather food. Do not be afraid, I will return." Jaune said as he stalked towards the forest. He almost fell backwards when he was restrained by his cape. Jaune coughed from the sudden choking, turning to see what had gotten a hold on his cloak.
Three children, ranging from the age of about ten to at most sixteen, were standing behind him.
Jaune raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you, children?" Jaune asked.
The two oldest, a brother and sister with brown hair and rabbit ears, shuffled nervously.
The youngest, a small tiger tailed boy, bounced excitedly. "We want to help you hunt! You're going to go hunt, right?" The boy practically vibrated.
Jaune's eyebrow raised even higher. "Do any of you three know how to hunt?"
They at least had the self awareness to look abashed at the ground. Jaune could practically see his ghost mimicking them behind the three, like a shadow.
Jaune sighed. "I suppose each one of us must start somewhere." He said, pulling his bow off of his shoulders.
Adun and Kiki, the twins, gave a glance to each other. That bow hadn't been there when they approached him, was it?
Adun shrugged, accepting it as it was. Mrs. Caran had called him an Angelic facet, but Adun knew that he was one of those Huntsmen that the Merchants always talked about! Must have been a Huntsman thing, like their Soul Shields.
Jaune held the bow out to them. "Draw this if you can." he instructed. Adun raised an eyebrow at the simple instruction, but took the bow in hand anyway. He tried to pull, only to strain his arm for a mere inch. Jaune gave something half way between a chuckle and a sigh, lightly taking the bow back from the teenager. He gave him a kind smile. "I'm sorry, young one, but you are not strong enough to wield this." he said. Adun's face fell at his words. "Yet." Jaune quickly tacked on as he slung the bow back over his shoulder.
"Now come. Just because you cannot draw a bow or wield a blade does not mean you cannot hunt."
The three children perked up at that, eagerly following him into the woods.
Jaune leaned down, pointing at a growth of mushrooms. "Adun, Kiki, Takrota." Jaune ordered with that odd voice of his. The one that was incredibly soft, yet seemed like it carried for miles.
The three children scampered back over to their at the moment teacher. "What is it, Mr. Jaune?" Adun asked as he put a fistfull of mushrooms away in a bag. Jaune shifted to let them see what he found. A collection of dark brown, almost black mushrooms with reddish wart like bumps grew at the base of the tree.
"You see these?" jaune said, pointing. They nodded. "These are poisonous, don't eat them. If they break, don't breathe in their spores." jaune said sternly. It was frankly a miracle that he remembered this much from his camping trips with his grandfather. He so far had managed to instruct the children on where to find various edible mushrooms and berry trees, pointed out various animal hidey holes and nests to them, and told them how to avoid the various foods that leaned to the more dangerous side of the spectrum.
Jaune glanced at the bundles of food that they had found.
"Let us return to camp. That should be enough for now." jaune called. The children nodded, but Takrota frowned. "Are you sure this is enough? We have lots of people…"
Jaune gave the fretting boy a smile. "Don't worry. I will go and hunt once we return. But this should tide us over for now." jaune explained as he led them back to camp. They strode over fallen branches and gnarled roots, slid down small drops and leaf covered slopes, forging their way through the woods until they reached the familiar sight of the caravan. The survivors had set up something of a camp while they were gone.
"WE'VE RETURNED!" Tacrota yelled out to the camp. Jaune ushered the children to the camp, doling out the collection of food they had found.
One of the adults frowned, looking down at the handfull of berries he was handed. "Is this all?" he asked. Jaune shook his head. "I'm heading back in to hunt for some more food. None of the children can properly wield a bow, and I do not trust them with a blade." Jaune said as he carefully set his bag of forest goods down. "Keep them safe while I am gone."
Jaune turned to stalk off into the woods once more, the man frowning behind him.
"What a strange young man." he said as the Hunter disappeared into the forest.
Jaune took a deep breath in, taking in the forest scent with a smile. His bow slipped naturally into his hands, as though he was dreaming.
Heh. That's probably not a good thing. A semi joked.
Jaune did find it concerning how close this felt to dreaming. Jaune put the thought away, reminding himself that there were people counting on him.
Jaune moved silently through the forest, like a spectre. His eyes pierced the wooded expanse as he searched for his prey to usher to the grave.
Jaune saw a suitable target in the form of a wild boar, snuffling and overturning the undergrowth. Jaune drew his bow back, aiming for where Jaune assumed there was a major artery. Jaune let the arrow fly. The boar squealed, abruptly turning to the man that would dare shoot it. It looked Jaune in the eye, its own beady little dots promising hell to pay.
Jaune froze like a deer in headlights.
Oh, god damn we fucked up. A said as Jaune was forced to scramble. B gave him a look.
YOu doNT SAY! B responded as Jaune rolled to the side, letting the massive thing pass by him.
Holy mother of God, that thing must have been the size of a horse! A massive, hairy, stount, angry horse
Jaune had never really appreciated how massive boars were, did he? Because holy hell, he had messed up. Jaune rapidly exited out of his musing as he was forced to dodge again. Fortunately, he was a somewhat skilled fighter and had a decent survival instinct. He had survived Beacon, after all. Just imagine what this boar could do to a normal man/
He was suddenly very glad that he didn't take the kids on this hunt. A brief vision of a red splatter on a tree flashed before his eyes. Oh, that was a bad thought.
His eyes widened. Oh shit.
He had been caught with his metaphorical pants down. And the boar had realigned its charge. To line up directly with Jaune. Jaune braced for impact as the tusk of the boar slammed into him with the force of a jackhammer. Or Nora. Perhaps it was on Nora level forces.
Jaune felt liquid, probably blood, fly out of his mouth as his aura to a drastic dip. Jaune was sent flying, his back hitting against a nearby oak tree.
"Alright then. No more Mr. Nice Jaune." he grumbled, drawing his sword and knife. The boar prepared to charge again, and Jaune hunkered down.
In.
Jaune focused on the boar, letting the rest of the world both fall out of focus and under his scrutiny, should he need to use the natural arena.
Out.
Jaune saw the boar twitch. He saw the wind rustle the leaves above him. He saw his vision tint almost with the color of grey.
In.
The boar charged him. Jaune leaped forward, gracefully landing above the beast. His sword thrust down to create some chip damage against the powerful pig.
The boar squealed as it retaliated with a back kick. Jaune closed his eyes and held his arms in front of him. There was a sudden draining feeling as Jaune felt himself seem to melt and dissolve in the air.
There was contact, but no contact. Instead the space where he was exploded in a storm of green leaves. Jaune hit the ground several feet away, tumbling with the inertia. He felt his face slam against a small rock, and his nose crack. Holy shit, that Jump had probably saved him a broken set of ribs, if him bouncing off the ground had broken his nose.
Jaune's eyes were wide as he stood up. The boar grunted in confusion.
He felt the connection, so how was this featherless chicken was not only standing, but not injured?
Jaune was meanwhile straight up confused and concerned. He had jumped. Teleported. Blinked. Like he did in The Dream. He did that a lot in The Dream, and he knew exactly what it felt like.
Well, that's not good. B said with a noticeable amount of concern.
A rolled his eyes. Look, that's great and all. He started, before gesturing to the boar. But we are fighting a Two Tonne Tusked Death Machine! Could we please focus until we are not in life threatening danger? A pleaded. Jaune shook his head.
Right. Dangerous food now, existential crisis about the subconscious and its effects on reality later. The boar charged again, and Jaune rolled to the side, using the back end to sweep into a cut across the things neck.
Tch. Not enough to truly pierce the hide. Jaune thought as he saw the cut seep blood just a little. Not enough to indicate that he had nicked an artery. Jaune quickly swapped to his bow, and lodged and Arrow into the boar's side. It did little to hinder the beast, as it roared at Jaune again, preparing to charge once more.
Jaune's brain ran at a mile a minute, calculating and cross checking with B various possible routes of attack. Jaune saw a prime chance to end this battle. Hopefully.
The boar charged, and Jaune tensed. As it approached at concerning speeds Jaune got ready to move. The beast moved closer, three yards. One yard. One foot.
Jaune exploded into movement, dashing to the side and punching his arm out. It connected with the arrow, driving the wooden shaft deep into the boars neck.
It let out a painful squeal as it thrashed, hoping to clip Jaune. Jaune blinked backwards upon impact, again dissolving into green leaves.
"You gotta stop doing that." he grumbled as he worked his way towards the boar, hoping to put it out of it's misery.
The boar charged once more, determined to drag this featherless chicken down to hell with it. Jaune dipped out of the way, letting the boar trip itself over its own failing nervous system. It spun, flipping into the air in an ungraceful manner. It landed with a terrible thud.
Jaune approached the poor beast, as it wheezed and collapsed.
"I suppose you can feel it, can't you?" Jaune asked rhetorically. "The fading of the light?"
Jaune closed his eyes, giving a bit of remembrance to his own deaths. His knife flicked into his hands.
"Yeah, It's pretty shitty." Jaune opened his eyes. "Let me ease your passing, my friend."
The knife slit the boars throat, and jaune watched those beady eyes relax and fade out. Jaune gave a long suffering sigh.
It still didn't quite feel right. Or real?
Real was something that the world felt more and more lacking in.
You should probably get some sleep, jaune. B recommended.
The Boar makes it to the camp first. Then I can rest once we get moving. Jaune responded, grabbing the boar by the scruff. He started to drag the massive thing.
James Majorla had seen many things in his life as a bartender and a cook. But watching the admittedly lithe hooded ranger drag an entire fully grown boar behind him. "Alright! Does anyone know how to cook a boar?" The ranger called out to the crowd.
The collection of thirty or so Faunus turned to stare at the hunter.
James blinked, finding himself raising his hand. Jaune nodded to him, pushing himself forward. The boar dragged behind him as he dropped the massive corpse in front of james. "I would like to get moving by noon, but we must be moving by sundown." Jaune said flatly.
James just stared wide eyed at the boar. "You want me to do what?"
"I want you to prepare this boar. Smoke it, dry it, cook it, but it does not matter." Jaune said with a shrug.
"I don't think you understand just exactly what you are asking me to do." James countered. Jaune actually knew quite well what he was asking. He himself was a cook and understood what cooking meat entailed.
Jaune turned to motion to the children, only to find them already approaching. Jaune smiled at their diligent approach. "Children. Please assist our good friend in preparing the boar."
And I am going to go take a nap. Jaune thought as he left poor James to instruct the children in how to properly butcher a pig. He hopped onto the head of a cart. Caran gave him a side eye as he put his head down and promptly fell asleep.
Chapter 11Chapter Text
There was something comforting about being in the grey tinted plane of The Dream. And that was probably more concerning than anything else Jaune had considered. He still greatly preferred the lush green of the world, and its smiling faces and life born sounds. But still, Jaune felt at comfort in The Dream. Jaune twisted, popping his spine. "Right, back into the fray we go." Jaune sighed. He wondered how long he was going to be here for this time, before he could find an escape. Months, this time? Perhaps a whole year? Jaune sighed.
Sure, when it became unbearable he could throw himself off a cliff to wake up, but he knew what that was. Cowardness.
It was cowardness to admit such a defeat. Sure, he himself was a coward, he wouldn't deny that. But that was a little low for even him. He would just suffer through the unchanging vastness of The Dream as the seconds, hours, days, whatevers passed with his march.
Does time even pass here? B questioned.
A shrugged. Eh, probably not. He said nonchalantly. Their last stint in The Dream felt like it had lasted forever. A significant problem with judging time was that nothing changed to indicate that it had passed.
Sure, things moved, but there was no clock that worked, no Sun to rise and fall, no stars that shifted in the sky.
Jaune found himself hating it. He hated how quiet this place was. He hated how even the damn ground itself smelled like liquor. He hated that this world twisted and bent and corrupted whatever was here.
He hated how much it felt like a kind of Home to him. Somehow, it felt far more fitting to him than the golden firewarmed halls of the Arc House in Orleans.
He wondered if it was corrupting him as well. Jaune ran circles in his mind as he walked through the city. Well, that map was right. It did seem to be Eternal. As in, you could walk through it for all eternity and never see the end of it.
Jaune sighed as he shook his head as he passed a wall that had several sword slashes through it. He had caused that some time ago, and by that he ment two nights ago. It was in a frustrated fit of manic rage. You could practically hear the screams of frustration radiating from the crisscrossing pattern of slashes, that mimicked the web of a spider hopped up on cocaine.
Jaune walked past it with a kind of embarrassment that one had when they saw rather embarrassing baby photos of them throwing a tantrum.
Jaune took a left, avoiding a small cluster of Drunken ghouls he didn't want to deal with right now. There was a rooftop he could get to that was an ample positional advantage. Jaune stopped as he finished his turn.
"Was that hole always there?" he asked.
B shrugged. I don't know. I don't believe that we've been down this street before.
Jaune squinted down the hole. It led to the sewers, that much Jaune could tell. Jaune pulled out his map, sprawling and winding as it marked and inked his path on its page. He hadn't seen this part of the sewers yet. Jaune shrugged as he jumped down the hole.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained! A proclaimed
Nothing ventured, nothing lost. B countered, being the killjoy he is.
Jaune hit the ground with a splash, as he landed in some ankle deep water. There, at a time long ago, must have been some form of organic material in it (namely feces) but it had been so long that any crap in here was long decomposed. Jaune sloshed forward through the muck, a wary hand resting on his favored one handed hammer and knife. He seemed to change his fighting style as he grew his arsenal in The Dream. Taking advantage of The Dream's mechanics to expand his experience as a fighter. It was a shame that he couldn't do the same with his abysmal social skills, as there was no one to talk to.
Hey, don't we count?! A protested.
Jaune gave him a flat look. No. You guys don't count as "people" he thought back. You're just voices in my head.
And that is more concerning that I let it be. Jaune considered before he stopped. There was movement up ahead. Jaune drew his hammer and knife as he slowly approached the movement.
As Jaunes' eyes adjusted to the damp darkness, the dreamer could make out what lay ahead.
A slug like leech about the size of a motorcycle clung to the ceiling, lying in wait for an ambush.
You're not going to get me this time. Jaune thought as he began to mutter a poem under his breath. A small thing, describing the snowfall on a mountain day, and how the icicles grew from the shingles of the landing. If you actually paid attention to the words, it made no actual sense, jumping to dragon fangs to ghosts to bitter slivers of moonlight. Very little of the spells did, it seemed.
The bolt of frost conjured from the spoken words shot out like a bullet. Striking the slimy leech, the thing fell to the ground with a splash. Jaune moved forward, intending to not let the leech slug recover its senses. The hammer dropped onto the squishy thing's head, pulverizing through the flesh and into its equivalent of a brain.
Surely they had brains, right?
Jaune looked down at the exploded sack of muscle and slug flesh at his feet. They clearly didn't have any skull, or any other bones for that matter.
Perhaps they didn't, like jellyfish. Jellyfish don't have brains, and look where they are now.
Perhaps some hope for my BBC colleagues. A said in a faux british accent.
Jaune titled his head. What in the world is a BBC? He asked
B shrugged as the three of them continued on. Well, really just Jaune.
Jaune sighed, letting his head fall back as he looked up that damp dark sewer pipe ceiling.
"Oh, to sleep, to dream. Something something, the sweet release of death." Jaune sighed, only vaguely remembering a middle school play he was a part of a long time ago. Not as an actor, but rather as a stagehand.
He liked it. He was given directions, was largely ignored, and felt useful.
Man, simpler times.
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.—Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd. B quoted. That's the quote. Not To sleep, to dream, something, something the sweet release of death, you twat. B huffed angrily.
Whatever you say, literature snob. A snorted with an eye roll.
Jaune rolled his head forward as he started to move again. He slowed, moving his legs so as to not make noise.
His head tilted.
He was hearing a shifting sound. Like gears and grinding metal.
"Do you hear that?" Jaune said out loud, his voice bouncing and echoing down the sewer pipe. Jaune let his voice die out. The soft cranking sound returned to his ears
"The sound of machines!" he cried out with joy. There was something besides the sound of wind and gurgling blood in this forsaken place! Some sign of sentient life, not drunken and rambling! Jaune started sprinting towards the sound of machinery, splashing with wanton abandon.
He turned a corner, seeing that the sewer pipe led to a massive chamber. The floor stretched out to be some kind of pier. At the end of it there was this massive spire of soot stained iron, cracks of forge hot glowing orange spewing from it's seams and internal machinery. The sewer pier, spilling water down its sides, led straight to a kind of circular conveyor belt. Behind it is a mechanical… thing hung, extruded from the massive spire-machine. It reminded Jaune of GLADOS, or perhaps the Starcraft 2 Colossus portrait. A singular limb of metal sticking out from a concave crevice behind the conveyor belt. The several ball and socket joints gave the thing movement, much like a snake or an octopus tentacle. Jaune approached with an excited caution.
Holy god, this thing was massive. It was easily the size of a barn, if not larger. Jaune assumed that the column the thing rested on was also part of it.
Scratch that, that put it up to four barns now.
"Wow, you are a big boy." jaune said, stopping in front of the conveyor belt. The tendril whirled, turning to look at the newcomer. Jaune looked at the mechanical thing in the eye, the aperture of the machine's camera twisting and focusing. Jaune heard the familiar sound of something booting up. His head tilted down as he saw a screen flicker to life. It was black with an orange analog text contrasting brightly.
"I am AFDA, Automated Forge and Design Algorithm. How may I help you?"
Jaune blinked. He put his fingers on the keyboard.
"Where, am, I?" Jaune muttered as he typed it out.
You know you could check the map. B supplied.
"Yeah, but that's not what I want to know, B." Jaune muttered.
"You are at AFDA site PRIME 1, in the Eternal City." AFDA responded.
'There are more of these sites in The Dream?' Jaune typed out.
" 'The Dream' Location not found. There are several locations in the Realm. Would you like me to list them?"
Jaune very much considered it. 'Could you put them on my map?' Jaune typed.
" term My Map not found. If you would like, I could print you a map with locations of AFDA sites."
Jaune considered it. He would check that out later. "What else can you do?" Jaune asked, his fingers making the tell tale clicking sound of a keyboard.
"AFDA's primary goal is the creation of mechanical tools."
Cool. 'Do you have anything in stock?'
"Searching…. There are (2) Trickshift weapons in stock. Are you here to pick them up?"
Jaune blanked. Was it stealing if no one was ever going to use it?
'Yes.' jaune typed. The machine whirred as the conveyor belt cranked as two cloth wrapped items rolled into view. Jaune carefully unfolded the right one first. Two oversized butcher knifes lay crossed. The tops were oddly designed with groves and ridges, and a seam cut through the vertical center of both blades.
Now, Jaune was no mechashift weapon expert, but he had spent enough time as a Huntsman to recognize a mechashift weapon when he saw one, even if it was a simple one.
"You know, those two grooves seem like they would fit together perfectly, don't they?" jaune said out loud, as he held the two blades out in front of him. They were very weighty, probably made out of a heavier metal.
Jaune put the top edges of the two blades together, letting them click. The two seams in the blade lined up, and the front half separated, sliding down. Now, normally, this part of the blade would attach to the left handed blade's handle and act to extend the knives into a greatsword.
However, there was an issue. Jaune's fingers were in the way. So the blade simply closed in on the digits, painfully pinching them.
"Ow, Fuck!" jaune yelped as he dropped the heavy blade, cradling and violently shaking his hand. His hand stung a burning read as he looked down at the fully shifted weapon.
A massive blocky sword lay half submerged in the water. It reminded him of one of the weapons team… CFVY? Coffee? Yeah, coffee used. Yatsu. Yeah, his name was Yatsu, wasn't it?
That sounded right. Jaune bent down to pick up the blade. It was, in its simplest term, a large sharp metal rectangle on a stick.
Jaune hefted it, his arms straining to properly wield the heavy blade. The back side rested on his shoulder as he turned away from the machine. He gave it a couple experimental swings, going through a side, side down pattern.
Jaune gave a huff, lamenting how incredibly heavy the weapon was. Jaune returned the weapon with a crack into its original form, breaking the weapon over his knee. Rewrapping the heavy weapon, it joined everything else in his pack. Turning to the second wrapping, Jaune carefully removed the cloth covering.
It was a rather thin long sword in its sheath. The handle had a lever sticking out of the crossguard, looking like some kind of finger guard. Clearly, this was the chosen mechanism for the weapons 'Trickshift' mechanics. Jaune grasped the sword, pulling it out of the scabbard.
Jaune was surprised when the blade bent, as though he was pulling out a limp noodle. Upon a second look, the core of the blade was a kind of metal rope, with segments of the blade.
Oh. it's a whip. Jaune understood. He dropped the sheath, letting the entire whip fall. It was long as a snake, about four feet or so. Jaune grasped the lever, and the cord retracted into the handle, forcing the segments of the sword to connect and form into a proper blade. Jaune gave this blade a couple of swings as well. It was light, much lighter than Caroca Mors or his current blade was. Jaune returned it to its sheath, attaching the weapon to his belt.
He would have a lot of fun learning these two. He never had a real mechashift weapon before. Sure, Caroca Mors had the sheath-shield, but did that really count?
Yeah, Jaune didn't think so. Thanking AFDA, Jaune exited the platform, walking down a set of stairs flooded by the overflowing water from the pier. Taking out his map, Jaune saw that there was a new section of the sewers labeled. AFDA Warsat Prime.
Jaune put the map away, continuing his meandering. Judging by the map, he was heading towards the first entrance that he found by the Warden's Keep.
Crossing some more leech-slugs, he made himself familiar with the whip sword.
Whip Sword is kind of a shitty name. It needs something cool. Kind of romantic, kind of gothic, you know? A quipped as Jaune retracted the whip into it's blade form. The four corpses of the sewer variety of the shambling drunk sank into the sewer muck behind him.
Jaune had decided that he disliked being in the sewers. The monsters here could poison him with their natural toxins, it stunk, it was slippery, and there were no gravesites.
So, all in all a bad place to be.
You're right, A. Jaune agreed as he looked down at his trick shift weapon. "You do need a name." The ranger decided.
Jaune ran his brain through some good sword names, but nothing seemed to stick. Byulpyr, Drunk Slayer, black star, and Somber Tone were only a small taste of the ones thrown out.
How about Glassvain? B suggested.
Jaune considered it. Where did you get glassvain from? Is it a literature reference I have forgotten?
Nah. I don't know.
Jaune shrugged as he looked at it. "Glassvain. I like it." Jaune nodded. "Glassvain." he repeated, satisfied with how it rolled off the tongue.
Jaune took the moment of peace to check his important inventory. Namely, his stock of consumable magic alcohol.
"Awe, damn." he muttered. "I'm running low on health booze."
Could we please not call it "health Booze" B pleaded. Jaune gave B a tired look.
"I'm stuck in a world without time, whenever I go to sleep, that is completely devoid of sentient life and the very streets ran red with blood wine. I will call the ashes that are left over whatever the hell I want to." he stated, his voice leaving no room for counter argument behind.
He climbed a set of stairs that brought him to the elevator by the Warden's Keep.
Jaune started to hum as the metal cylinder ascended upwards. "You know, perhaps it is time I paid the Good Doctor a visit." he said, palming the handle of his blade.
Ohhh boy. A sighed with a tired kind of exasperation. Here we go again.
Jaune kicked open the doors of the Ward, where the plague doctor still scuttled, checking his long dead patients for any change in their state of death. "Hey Doc!" Jaune called out. "Guess who's back!"
The plague doctor looked up. "Ahh, the sickly returns, knowing that there is nowhere else to find treatment?" he crowed. Jaune shook his head, pulling out Glassvain in its sword mode.
"Nah, just repaying the favor I owe you." he said, partially in a cheerful banter, but mostly in a challenged anger. "After all, I can chalk up a whole lot of my death to you."
The doctor gave a tired sigh. "I suppose I will have to subdue yet another patient. But don't worry. I'll be sure to fix up whatever i break." he said as he pulled out his bone saw. Jaune hunched down in a combat stance, already plotting his first set of attacks.
He would advance with a jab, following it with his knife. Using that as a pivot point, Jaune would be free to dodge back for the three set flurry that the Doctor would retaliate with. His whip could probably outrange the Doctors saw, so getting in some chip damage with that was a good option. Jaune knew that he wasn't very experienced with the whip aspect, but he had mucked around enough to get the basics down. He wasn't about to hit himself with his own whip, if that was the fear.
No jaune. The fear is that we are biting off way more than we can chew. B responded dryly and Jaune charged. Blade first, which drove itself into a glancing blow. Knife followed, was deflected with the Doctors off hand, and jaune saw the retaliation blow coming. He bent backwards to avoid the swipe, and rolled away from the follow up. With a small huff, Jaune released the level on his handle once more.
Jaune engaged Glassvain's whip form once he was right on his feet from the roll. The blade swung, almost taunting the doctor as it nicked and slashed against the Plague Doctor. . The doctor marched forward as jaune retreated, giving more and more ground to keep him out of the Doctor's saw range. Step by step, Jaune moved backwards, trying to fend off the creature. he knew that he was fast approached the wall behind him. He would soon have to make a play. Perhaps he should circle to the side, and keep the Doctor just in whips range?
no. The room was a massive rectangle, essentially. it was a lot longer than it was wider. Spells? Bombard him with Frostbolt? Perhaps. Jaune really would have preferred to keep a decent amount of energy, mana? Jaune didn't know. It felt more like energy than he thought mana would. Jaune would prefer to save most of his mana for Jumps, a rather intensive spell. Jaune glanced up as he saw the doctor lower his Bone Saw from his normal striking stance.
The doctor raised his free hand, the sickly tar black energy gathering around it.
Jaune knew this trick. The doctor would charge for roughly a half second, then dash forward with a poisonous energy approximately seven meters or so. A prime opportunity to engage rule number four:
Stab them in the sphincter.
B groaned in physical pain at that. I thought we agreed we weren't doing this any more.
A laughed at such arrogance. Jaune rolled to the side as the Doctor lunged. Thrusting his sword out, jaune implemented combat rule number four: Blast them in the Butt.
You have rules of combat? B asked. And at least four of them, no less.
Jaune made a face of someone who clearly did not have four rules of combat.
Oh my god. B groaned. You're a dumbass.
Jaune took offence to that. I was going to come up with them eventually. Jaune countered as he saw the Doctor start to lean forward.
You'll want to roll out of that. A said. It's poisonous, remember
Tell me something I don't know Jaune responded with a bite of sarcasm as he crouched lightly, ready to dive to the side.
The doctor suddenly lunged forward, attempting to grab Jaune as it had so many times before, delivering the sick boy some medicine.
Jaune rolled to the side, turning with his whip to deliver a punishing blow to the doctors back. The doctor turned quickly, leaping forward the several feet that separated them with a spinning attack.
Jump. A called as the doctor spun to retaliate. Jaune dissolved into ash and vapor as the blade cut through him. Jaune reappeared behind him, his back facing his foe. jaune took Glassvain, his hand grasping its lever firmly, and stabbed under his armpit. The front of Glassvain broke through The Doctors white cape, staining it further in the dark black red blood.
"You're a slippery sickly boy, aren't you?" The doctor crowed looking down at the blade sticking out of his gut.
Jaune whipped Glassvain out of the Doctor, letting go of the lever to allow the blade to fall limp. And much like ripping a towel off a rack, the segmented whip imbedding inside the Doctors body flew out of it, ripping apart the left side of the thing with it. "Yeah yeah, you need some better quips. I've heard that one a thousand times." he said as a bolt of frost shot at the doctor. The doctor shouldered the magical blast. With a grunt, the doctor leaped, smashing his saw into the ground.
And Jaune. An important factor of the consequences of this attack. Jaune felt the wind get knocked out of him as his collarbone cracked under the impact and his shoulder muscles pierced by the teeth of the saw. The doctor stepped back, making sure to drag the serrated tooth to rip apart the supporting arm muscle.
Jaune stumbled back, bleeding from the shoulder. "Well then, that's new." he muttered, entering melee with the bone wielding plague doctor. he quickly pulled out a bottle that contained a miniscule amount of spirit, simultaneously deflecting the follow up strike from the doctor that had swung for his thigh. Jaune greedily swallowed a mouthful of the healing alcohol. he threw the bottle at the Doctor, who held up his off hand to block it. it shattered, temporarily stunning and blinding the Doctor. Jaune took his chance, and charged with Glassvain, holding it with two hands.
Jaune slashed with a downward stroke, but it was blocked with the Doctors off hand. Jaune quickly adjusted his blade to push away the Doctor's bone saw. The doctor swung again, and Jaune stepped back.
Seeing an opportunity for free damage, Jaune threw his knife at the Doctor. It flew true, striking the thing in the eye of his mask. The glass lens shattered as the blade drove itself into the Doctor's eye.
There was a sudden pulsing burst as blood as black as haggis poured out of the wound. The doctor stumbled with the impact, teetering slightly. He reached to the handle, feeling the intruding object.
With a rough grasp, the doctor pulled the dagger out of his face. Jaune winced as it made a squelching sound.
"You know, that really should have killed you." Jaune said as he watched the doctor rub his blood over his bone saw, coating it in a radiating oozing black aura, much like his lunge attack.
"But I'm getting used to the whole 'Undying Monster' thing that's going on." Jaune sighed as the Doctor made a flourish.
I can't help but feel that we are in some deep fucking shit. A commented as the one eyed Doctor leveled his gaze at Jaune.
Jaune couldn't help but feel inclined to agree.
He was, indeed, in some deep fucking shit.
Hello! I hope you liked this chapter, I'm trying to get better at fight scenes
anyway, please leave a review, I enjoy reading them. Bonus points for theory crafting, they're probably better than what I have planned.
We only have a few chapters before Jaune makes it to Haven, so hang in there.
also, if you have any constructive critic on my writing style, I would apricate it.
I just realized that I don't know how to add things like bold or italics, which I use to denote A and B talking and author notes. For a clearer reading, the link to the story on FF.net can be found here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13936033/1/The-Hunter-s-Dream
My apologies. I was just copy pasting the documents over and didn't realize this until now.
Chapter 12Chapter Text
Jaune scampered to the side as the doctor slashed forward. The bonesaw left behind a flimsy masma of the black smoke like substance. That could not be good. Jaune reengaged Glassvain's whip form, knowing that it out ranged the bone saw normally. He flicked the segmented whip at his unlicensed medical foe.
At least jaune thinks that he was unlicensed. He couldn't imagine anyone giving this man a practitioner's license.
Jaune kept his eyes fixated on the doctor as it prepared to make another dash forward. Jaune preemptively rolled to the side, expecting for the Doctor to charge forward in his same position.
Just imagine Jaunes' surprise as the doctor lunged in his direction, having moved his line of attack over a couple dozen degrees. Jaune turned, hoping to mitigate the damage he would take. The doctor grasped his shoulder, the black magic eating away and rotting his flesh. Jaune spat out some foam as he rolled away from the doctor. Glassvain ripped at the doctor's chest, warding the dark doctor away.
Jaune glanced beyond his foe, seeing that the ground that the doctor had performed his magical dash forward was coated in a black slime, burning with a dark purple flame.
Great. B groaned. We're fighting a videogame boss.
Jaune blinked. I guess you're kind of right. It does seem like a boss fight.
LESS TALKING, MORE STABBING! A yelled at the two, making a hacking motion with his fist. Jaune decided to cast a bolt of frost at the doctor, staggering him and buying Jaune the precious few seconds he needed to recite his prayer of healing.
"Myrth, Lordess above, looked down upon Acan, dripping in blood, and spilt her wine upon him, turning him to wine. And thus his strikes were washed away, left for the world to drink." Jaune recited as he stumbled and backtracked a retreat. The bleeding, infected with puss and ooze, stung as Jaune could feel it become more liquid. The red wine flowed from his shoulder, fizzing with some kind of magic to cause the wound to scab over.
The doctor advanced upon the ranger once more, hellbent on sedating the sick man and operating. Jaune, on the other hand, was having none of that. Whipping at the doctor, Jaune fell into a dance. It was a straight forward, simple dance that went around in circles. Jaune made sure to stick to vision range the doctors bad, most recently stabbed, eye.
Step backwards and lash out, keep out of reach. On the occasion that the Doctor made a leaping attack, or dashed forward with that masma attack, Jaune made sure to jump or roll out of the way and implement rule number four.
Of course, it was not infallible, and on occasion jaune would taste the bite of the bone saw. He very much disliked the feeling of his flesh sloshing off his bones like a diseased baby back rib. Jaune blasted the doctor with a bolt of frost, once again buying time for him to fuel his crippling addiction to "health Potions."
Ohh, that one had a dark cherry taste! A chirped as jaune threw back another bottle. He chugged, emptying the thing. He threw the empty glass at the doctor.
The doctor was bent over, breathing heavily as his once pristine white coat now stained the color of embering charcoal with his black red blood. He was on his last leg, and Jaune knew it.
The bottle shattered against the doctor's chest, and Jaune rushed forward. He reached into his pack, grasping his hands on a heavier weapon. Pulling out a maul, and bounced it in his hands, testing the weight.
A six pound hammer with a pick on one end introduced itself to the doctor as Jaune thrusted with it, catching the doctor in center mass. He tumbled to the ground like a poorly propped up sack of potatoes. The force was followed with an overhead swing, hoping to smash the man into paste. The bone saw deflected the blow that would have crushed his ribs. Jaune preserved the momentum, turning it into a side swipe to the scrambling doctor's kneecaps.
Nora would have been proud of that. B winced as the doctor's leg bent with a sudden crack. The doctor screamed a laughing kind of cry. It was an awful crow-like laugh. Jaune shook his head as he shouldered the maul.
Jaune drove the maul home to that black stained beak. With a crunch sound not unsimilar to the breaking of glass, the doctor's head was turned into a starburst stain on the floor. Jaune closed his eyes with a heavy wince, fighting the urge to vomit.
That would be disrespectful. "Well, at least it's done." he sighed as he looked away. Taking a glance around the room, he saw that the opposite wall was actually a doorway. While it was blocked by the medical beds and barrier cloths, but those were easy enough to remove.
Jaune stode over to where his knife lay, picking up the thrown weapon. He sighed, wiping the blood off on the cloth of his outer thigh. Looking at the corpse, now but a stain on the floor and dust in the wind, he saw what spoils had been left for him to plunder.
Ah, sweet sweet loot. A sighed, like he was getting a sniff of glue.
Jaune shook his head as he approached the potion bottle shaped glass. A string labeled it as "Medical Disinfectant Alcohol, liquorice flavored." jaune read. "Why the hell would you flavor Medical Disinfectant anything, much less liquorice?"
B shrugged. I dunno. It doesn't change the taste anyway.
Jaune sighed as he put it away in his interdimensional pouch. "Don't think about the implications of it, Jaune. It's just a dream. It's all in a dream. It can break the laws of physics as we know it. It's only in your head." He muttered as his hand retreated from the full feeling bag. It always felt full, and always weighed about five pounds. Jaune did his best not to think about it.
Jaune worked on moving the beds to the side, granting him access to the door. Pushing the massive cathedral style panels open, Jaune was surprised at what lay before him. Gone were the endless cobblestone streets and buildings of the Eternal City. they had been replaced with fields of corn and wheat, the path in between the fences meandering down to a town.
Jaune could tell that it wasn't inhabited, but still worth exploring. Who knew what ancient treasures he would find.
He might even find a pitchfork.
Snarky today, arn't we? B commented as Jaune started walking down.
Give me a break, I just killed the only thing that could form an actual sentence on this planet so far. Jaune rebutteled as he ran his hand through the grain. It felt almost brittle and calcified.
Jaune was just glad to see that there was plant life, even if it was only a mockery of it.
Jaune approached the town with a wary eye, prepared to be shot at by angry drunken farmers.
What would drunken farmers look like?
Probably about the same, just with straw hats.
Jaune passed the threshold of the town, looking around at the empty place. There was a creaking from just a little to the left of his eyesight. Jaune dashed into a spin, low to the ground as he turned to the source of the sound.
There was nothing but a decrepit one story building behind him. Jaune squinted at it, scanning for the danger.
You are not safe here.
Jaune knew that by the hairs that stood up on the back of his neck.
Something is Watching.
Jaune glanced around, daring the world to show him what had made that sound. He turned slowly, Glassvain and his favorite knife out in hand.
This place is not safe.
Jaune slowly began to descend further into the town, his very instinct yelling at him to get out of here.
Flee this place, You are not Welcome.
"Tell me something I don't know." Jaune grumbled as he saw that the center of town was dominated by a gravestone. It was originally just a simple town square, but it looked like a gravestone had grown out of the center of the cobble stones.
Escape this place.
Jaune decided that doing what his instincts had been yelling for him to do, and sat down. He closed his eyes, and swept himself away.
James watched the ranger walk away from the massive dead beast he had left with him. "He expects me to cook this before noon?" He asked in disbelief. The children stood, excitingly awaiting orders. James sighed, shaking his head.
This was going to be uncomfortable, to say the very least. Butchering was always a bloody, messy and sickening job.
"Alright kids." James started. "I want you all to build a fire. A big one. And make it long. We will need it to cook the boar."
The children nodded and scattered, going off to gather firewood.
James sighed as he pulled out a knife. The wrong tool for the job, but it would cut. The blade met the boar's neck, as the cook got to work on cleaning out the boar. First, he removed the arrow and slit the throat, turning the boar upside down. Gallons upon gallons of blood gushed out of the dead pig.
Caran eyes traced from the butcher to the children at the edges of the forest, gathering fallen logs and branches, to Jaune Karmora. He had laid down on one of the carts, and promptly stopped moving. Presumably having fallen asleep, Caran was content to let their savior rest.
The fire had started, and james was hacking off chunks of meat. Caran once again gazed at the blonde vestige of her-their savior.
Her head tilted as her face shifted to concern.
"Is… is he breathing?" Caran asked, her voice laced with tentative concern. His chest didn't seem to be moving. Caran moved closer to the Karmora.
She couldn't see his breath, and he lay still. One of the other housewives leaned over to Caran. "I don't think so. You should probably go poke him or something." Alma. Caran approached the sleeping dreamer.
His face was pale, and there were deep bags under his eyes. A small scar had formed on his left jaw, a paper thin streak of clean skin on his prickly rough face. Almost two weeks of not shaving had grown a prickly peach fuzz. Some form of organic junk, a rich dark yellow sand color, had formed around the blonde's eyes as it grated against his skin, resting on a cracking and dry desert of pale beige. Jaune's hair had grown long indeed, a lock hoving down by the bridge of his nose. It was matted and knotted, and the left side was braided with dried blood. A scab on his left temple had fed the staining on his left. A broken nose, twisting down and to the right slightly, had almost ruined any semblance of fair breeding for visual appeal. It simply didn't suit the well crafted face it was attached to, stereotypically anglo-saxon. It could even be described as orleanian. Highish cheekbones, blue eyes and pale skin were marred by days of harsh weathering, blasting of what one could only assume as fine sediment, and ceaseless combat. His cheeks were stretched thin over his elf like cheekbones, giving him a worn and gaunt look. His eyes might even be sunken slightly from lack of rest. His gold blonde hair seemed to be greying, a faded greying ash tint if you didn't look at it closely. A patch of moss from his cloak had gotten itself stuck in his hair, the veins of hay gold having wrapped and entangled the plant matter.
Caran's gaze shifted lower, to his neck, the visible lines from his veins and muscles having an effect that was not quite grotesque or disgusting, but concerning. It was not the neck of a healthy man. The skin seemed too thin, and too pale. The chestplate Jaune Karmora wore did little to hide his thinness. It almost seemed to be projected over the ranger's chest, like some kind of cliff overhang or cave roof. Below, a ripped black hoodie was practically only threads by his hips, doing little to hide the well defined abdominals.
They were not beautiful muscles, carbed from flesh colored marble. They were pale, a rough and starting contrast to the sun beaten face that belonged to them. Caran could see the rivers of purple that made up his veins and arteries. Her fingertips graced the ridges that she swore you could grate Tapaya on. They were abnormally cold. Not to the point of death, but this man desperately needed a blanket. She dared to look at the rest of her savior.
The cuffs of his pants were ragged, and his shoes had most certainly seen better days. His arm braces were scratched, and one was punctured fully. The cylindrical wrap that was hosted on his shoulder, that she believed was a quiver, looked like he had pulled it from some apocalypse.
Little did she know how close she was.
Did he shift just now? It was hard to tell. Caran looked over Jaune one more time.
"You know you're being a little creepy, right?" A young hyena fanus commented, snapping Caran out of her gazing. She blushed, stuttering an excuse.
"Wha-n-no I wasn't. He wasn't uhh… He didn't seem to be breathing, so i-"
The fanus sighed, stopping her. "I don't want to hear you excuses, Mrs. Cyue." he said with a particular tiredness. "But isn't he a little young for you?"
The housewives in the back sputtered, trying and failing to hide their laughter. "I believe, as my son says, that you got burned!" An Ox faunus called out from the group. Caran shyly slinked away, her face burning.
She re-merged with the gaggle of housewives. They all opened their mouths to poke fun at Caran.
"Shut it." She snapped, not wanting to endure any more embarrassment. The Ox faunus, Nora, held her hands up in a mocking defeat.
"You have good taste. If he was ten years older, i would be on that like Flies to open market meet." Nora smirked.
James watched the housewives for a moment, his attention attracted by their bantering. He rolled his eyes, and returned to his work.
The idle chatter of women never interested him, despite his own idle chatter sounding little different. The children had started a fire, by some miracle. In truth, they had grabbed a salvaged torch that had been kept burning through the night, and used that to start the fire.
James squared his shoulders, picking up a slab of meat he had butchered. "Kids! Start cooking this!" He called.
One of them turned to pick up the slab. "Ewww!" The girl cried as she was handed the slab of bloody meat. "It's all bloody and gross!" the child complained.
Adun leapt at the mention of bloody and gross. "Ohh, blood! Cool!" He exclaimed excitedly.
James groaned. "CHILDREN! Please!" He tried. "Just cook the damn meat"
"But mr. James, its all yucky and wet!" The girl complained. "I don't wanna touch it!"
"I'll cook it! I like icky things!"
"Why?!"
"Why don't you?!"
"Because it's weird!"
"Nuh uh! You're weird!"
"Nuh Uh! You're the weird one!"
James sighed, collapsing his face in his hands. Why was this his life now?
"CHILDREN! WE Have to get this boar cooked before noon! And so help me god, if I hear another word about how the boar is "icky" or someone else is "weird" I will find someone else to help me, understand?" He yelled, trying to regain control of the situation.
He could only hope that it would work.
Jaune woke to a bumpy ride. Looking up, the sky was moving under him.
We're moving. B stated. I wonder what time it is?
Noon. Jaune responded, noting the position of the sun. "It must be noon."
"You have a good eye, Sakrra Jaune." a voice said from next to him. "It is just past twelve fifteen."
Jaune turned his head. "James, right?" he asked, looking at the faunus that he had assigned to cook the boar.
James chuffed, looking behind the wagon intently. "I'm surprised you remember it."
"Names are precious, they deserve to be remembered." Jaune responded, the remains of the butchered boar, on a large leather cloth, resting on his chest and legs.
"Really?" he asked james.
James just shrugged, returning his attention to whatever the cart was dragging behind him. "Didn't have another place to put it. Besides, it puts you to good use."
Jaune was frankly a little insulted, but let it slide. They were working with what they had, after took a whiff of the air. Something was most certainly burning
Jaune looked to the other end of the rope.
"You're…. Dragging a burning log behind us?" Jaune asked as he saw what exactly was burning. Two ropes had been attached to the wagon, and were dragging a square made of tied together logs, a fire burning in the center.
James nodded. "Yup. We didn't have enough time to cook all the boar before we had to move, so me and the boys set up this monstrosity." he said.
Jaune decided that questioning it, or how it even worked as intended, was bad for his mental health. He was a coder at best, and at worst a ranger. Mechanical or physical engineering was not his forte.
Jaune groaned as he let his head fall back to the hard wood surface. His post nap headache had returned with a viscous appetite. Jaune didn't know why sleep no longer gave him rest. Actually, scratch that, he did. He could blame it on the fact that he travelled to The Dream when he slept. But still, if it was a dream he should get some rest from it, right?
Ehh, it was too early to be thinking about such issues.
It's literally past twelve, you twat. A flatlined.
Exactly. Jaune said. Far too early.
The rest of the trip went, well, as smoothly as a rag tag group of recently not slaves refugees could go that day. The sun fell, as it always did. Jaune looked at his map, his face scrunching. "We should push through the night. We are close to Rogues Hill." Jaune called out to his fellow drivers.
"Are you sure? It's over ten miles away." One of the drivers recalled. David? Was his name David? Jaune didn't know.
Jaune nodded. "Yes, but the sooner we get out of the road and into a proper town, the better. You all will be safer at Rogues Hill than you will with only me." He said matter of factly.
There was a murmuring throughout the crowd.
"Get some sleep while you can. With any luck, when you wake, we will be in a town." Jaune said. On a more important note, they wouldn't attract as much attention from the grimm if they were asleep.
Jaune cracked the lead, stirring the horses onward. They kept a steady pace as they trotted down the dirt road, hopefully heading for Rogues Hill.
At least, that's where Jaune assumed they were heading. Jaune really hoped they were heading to Rogues Hill.
Could you imagine how funny it would be if you guys wern't heading to Rogues Hill? A proposed. Jaune closed his eyes in pain at the thought.
No. that would not be amusing in the slightest, A. in fact, that would fucking suck.
Jaune tuned out the two bickering as his senses alerted him. They were not alone. Jaune glanced around, wary of the treeline.
"Ursai, Dead ahead!" one of the drivers called out. Jaune groaned. Lord forbid he ever get a break. One night. Just one god damned night. He mentally complained as he pulled out his bow. Standing on the moving cart, he drew the bowstring back, and an arrow knocked on the string. Jaune leads the bow as the three lumbering bear grimm lumbered onto the path.
"Please, please please die easier than the boar." jaune muttered as he let the arrow fly. The arrow lodged itself into the Ursa's shoulder. Jaune quickly drew another one, letting it fly.
Jaune had the full attention of the ursai now.
"Drive On! Advert Corse!" Jaune yelled to the other drivers. "I don't care what you do, just make it to Rogues Hill!"
The whips cracked, forcing the horses to sprint past. Jaune heard James start to pray as the horses picked up speed. Jaune almost fell over as the cart sped up. The ursai roared as Jaune passed them.
One. Jaune counted, turning to watch the carts fly past. The second cart made it as Jaune shot again at the ursa, stopping a swipe at the cart. Jaune drew again, hoping to buy enough time to let the third pass as well.
He launched the projectile at the front most Ursa, praying that his luck didn't run out. The arrow flew true, but another Ursa surged forward.
"Oh, that is not good." Jaune said, already jumping off the cart.
The ursa's paw made impact with the side of the cart, blasting it to pieces. It looked like a small bomb had detonated from the wood splinters that exploded around the area.
Jaune landed, pulling out Glassvain.
Huh, I wasn't aware we brought that with us. B noted.
Yeah, I wasn't aware either. I suppose it got stuck in our quiver wrap. A dismissed.
B frowned. Wait. He said. When did we get a quiver?
A shrugged, not knowing or caring. Who gives a shit? Come on, we have Grimm to brutally murder!
WE, Jaune emphasized as he started to move forward. Less than a second has passed since he had hit the ground, and he didn't want it to pass that mark. Are saving people
A snorted at that. Keep telling yourself that, champ.
Jaune rolled his eyes, tucking the two away in the depth of his mind. Didn't help that they were a part of it. Glassvain extended out into its whip form.
Now Jaune just had to be fast enough.
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TO BE CONTINUED