Jaune sat down by the gravestone just outside a locked door, the Healers symbol etched into the door. Jaune turned an iron coin over in his hand, feeling the rough rust on the thing.
It became harder to tell the difference between when he was asleep and when he was awake. Sure, the two worlds were very different. One was filled with life, green trees and plants and all kinds of people, the other ash and liquor.
If you told Jaune that the wasteland was the real world, Jaune might have to catch himself believing you.
Man, this place is not good for my brain. Jaune thought, pocketing the metal coin. He looked at the door, before walking towards it. He gave it a mighty push open, the cloak he had taken from the rangers quarters billowing behind him slightly. Inside was rows upon rows of sickbeds, lining the walls of the room. Walking into the room, he noticed that the beds were filled with corpses. And walking between them was a white clad plague doctor. It monitored and noted the conditions of the corpses. Jaune was about to back out of the room when the plague doctor saw him. It jolted in surprise.
"What is this?" It rasped in a hollow, deceased voice. As though its throat had been replaced by a dry and cracked pipe. "Another unfortunate soul infected with the disease?" It tisked, drawing a medical saw that was probably used to amputate limbs. "How unfortunate."
Jaune drew his sword, keeping a wary eye on the doctor. He was shocked that he found someone that could actually speak, but the doctor's hostility was premise for jaune to chalk him down with the rest of this world.
Absolutely batshit crazy and out to kill him.
Man he was lucky that death didn't mean much to him any more. Jaune tossed a frost bolt at the raving doctor, and rolled out of the way as the doctor leapt at jaune. Jaune counter swing with his two handed sword, catching the doctor in the shoulder. The doctor hissed, making several wide swings at jaune. Jaune danced backward, just barely out of range. The Plague doctor lunged with his off hand in a straight line, catching Jaune in his gut. There was a sickly pusling foggy glow from where the doctor's fist was buried in Jaune's gut.
He felt like his stomach was on fire as he slammed the hilt of his sword into the plague doctors mask and slammed him with an overhead strike. Jaune then ungraciously rolled backwards to give him some distance.
It was really mostly him falling backwards onto his back, and failing to do a kip up. It worked though. Man, whatever that thing had done to jaune's intestines was really fucking him up. Jaunes' vision blurred and he felt like throwing up. Jaune quickly muttered some holy words.
"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,-" He muttered, making sure to backstep away from the doctor's wild saw swipes. Jaune held his sword up, parring the strike down to the ground. Jaune took his opportunity and grabbed the knife at his side, and thrust the blade into that white mask. He ripped the blade out with a ferocious yank, the gushing blood staining the white clad figure's left side a dark red. The figure stumbled, giving Juane but a moment. Jaune immediately went to uttering his healing phrase once more. The Doctor began to swing his saw, enraged once more at this sickly man.
Jaune felt his body be lacerated into shreds, as his vision dimmed from blood loss.
Damn it, here I go again He thought as he woke back to a cool green forest.
That plague doctor actually talked. Jaune thought as he collected his things and packed them away. Perhaps I can manage to reason with him. Shame he jumped to "curing" me right from the get go.
Jaune stewed on the fact that there was seemingly sentient life in The Dream. Jaune absentmindedly fiddled with the palmell of his sword. That was odd, that doesn't quite feel right. He drew the blade, it being much, much lighter than his actual sword. He held it up to his view.
It was his knife. That straight bladed combat knife that he had in the dream.
Jaune flipped the knife over, looking at the other side.
Yup, it was the same knife. A knife he did not have in the awake world.
This…. This got suddenly much more complicated. Jaune considered the implications. And then shrugged.
Eh, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Jaune walked through the forest once more, testing the various magic he had.
"In the frosted wrath of winter, may it seep through in fury." Jaune muttered, half expecting for the frost bolt to shoot from his fingers and strike the nearest tree.
But alas, nothing happened and Jaune was left feeling rather foolish. Jaune moved on through the forest, striding and hopping over branches and bramble. Jaune's danger senses, something that had developed in both the dream and in the occasional encounter with grimm or other natural dangers. Jaune felt tired now.
He felt a little like he hadn't slept in days, which he supposed that he hasn't. He was tired of being on edge so much. Every day he had to be on guard, and at night it was a fight for his survival.
He was looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed for once.
Jaune shrugged off the notion with the comforting thought that he would, sooner or later. He continued his travel through the forest
Jaune came to a basin of kinds, a small waterfall pooling into a shallow puddle on the left side. Jaune glanced around for any dangerous Moon Monkies or sloths that might drop from the trees and attack him.
Sloths, really? Jaune thought to himself. You honestly think that sloths are going to what? Drop on you like the Vietnamese? You've been separated from Nora for too long.
On second thought, who the hell are the vietnamese anyway?
Jaune silenced his thoughts with a motion, stalking down into the basin. He knelt by the fountain, inspecting the water. He gave the water a discerning glare, pooling some in his palm. He swirled it around, before shrugging and taking a sip.
Tasted like rocks and dirt. A pretty standard taste for water, now that he thought about it. Jaune dipped both hands and took a long drought from the puddle. Jaune let out a sigh, resting on his knees in a peaceful manner.
He took the moment to enjoy the sound of the forest. The sound of the small waterfall just in front of him, the chirping of birds and the creaking of trees. A rather zen moment if he said so himself.
Ren would have loved this place. It was so peaceful and serene.
Nora would have hated it. It was so peaceful and serene.
She would have lost her goddamn mind after a couple minutes from boredom. Jaune laughed at the notion of a hyper bored Nora pacing circles around a meditating Ren for several laps before deciding to go and knock over some trees in search of sloths.
Jaune snorted at the notion.
Man, I miss them. Jaune had the sobering thought. He thought he wouldn't, after their stinging betrayal. He pushed those out of his mind, his face souring.
Wait a minute. Jaune squinted to the sides.
Something's wrong. I can feel it.
Jaune's head cocked. The birds had stopped singing. Jaune took a sniff of the air. Something foul had tainted it. Jaune's head twitched back as he heard the fall of a heavy foot. Jaune stood, drawing his shield and sword. He turned to face who would dare disturb his silence.
A massive Berengal stood at the clearing. Jaune jumped at the sudden appearance of the massive grimm, before forcing his face into an idea of calm. Remember jaune. Who is the master of his emotions is the master of the battle. Jaune reminded himself, a paraphrased quote from The Art of War.
He took a close look at the Berengal. He looked rather similar to a stuffed monkey that his sister once had. Jaune remembered making that damn thing a space suit costume based off the one she saw on some children's show.
"Jangles the Moon Money." Jaune said as seriously as possible, like he was from one of those western flicks Yang liked so much. "We meet again."
The massive monkey gave a chuffing sound, evidently displeased with the name. Or perhaps Jangles the Moon monkey didn't mind it? It was hard to tell, with Jangles being a grimm and all.
Jaune rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. Really? Jangles the Moon Monkey? He thought to himself as the two started to slowly circle each other, like sharks.
Or moon monkeys. Jaune's brain unhelpfully supplied
What in the name oF GoD Is A fUcKiNG MOON MONKEY! Jaune mentally yelled at himself exasperated.
Duck. came part number three of his brain. Jaune frowned.
What? He asked himself
Jangle's swinging. Duck.
Jaune saw that Jangles the Moon Monkey- Fuck, The Berengal. The Berengal had swung it's massive fist, hoping to give Jaune the slapping of his life. Jaune tucked his knees and held his shield up.
He jolted at the impact, stumbling back a half step. Jaune stepped forward with a thrust. The Berengal tanked the hit like a champ, relying on it's naturally thick hide to protect it from the hard forged steel blade. The Berengal slammed it's fists down, only to connect with the dirt. The blonde dreamer had rolled backward to avoid the powerful slam. Jaune dashed forward, going for a flurry of swipes. Jangles raised his arms to protect himself, roaring at the flurry of knicks and cuts that jaune inflicted. The Berengal kicked, forcing Jaune to absorb the blow with his shield. Jaune skitted back, his face souring as the stinging pain from the blow shot up his arm. Jaune looked up to his opponent. Jangles the Moon Monkey. Jaune thought. And then he snickered. Jesus Christ, he was a moron wasn't he?
Jangles chuffed in disgust at the sound, roaring as he charged. Jaune dodged and rolled under the outstretched gorilla arm. He delivered a deep slashing cut to the Grimm's back. It howled as it spun, swinging it's thick meaty arm at an impressive speed. Jaune scampered to get his shield inbetween the flying fist and his face. He felt his shield bend, then give as the top third of the round wooden face snapped off. The fist continued to travel rapidly at his face.
Jaune was slammed to the ground from the force of a forearm almost as thick as his thigh making contact with his face. His aura flared as he felt at least one of his teeth break.
Jaune landed on his back several feet away. "Owwww." He groaned, spitting out the white bone from his mouth. It was accompanied by quite a bit of blood. Jaune raised his head, still laying spread eagle on the ground, to the Berengal. "Jangles, that hurt you fuck." He grumbled.
The Gorilla gave a yell as it reared back, trying to slam Jaune into the ground and turn him into a permanent fixture to the basin. Jaune yelped, rolling to the side. He did this several more times and Jangles the Moon Monkey pounded divots into the ground. Jaune, with an unpracticed stumbling motion, rolled to his feet using his shield as a tool to push up from. He stumbled, his brain being only slightly rattled. Jaune let go of his now ruined shield in the center of the basin, sticking it up with one edge in the ground. The Berengal growled at the fact that its prey wasn't dead yet. It leaped at the blonde with a fury only an animal could have.
Jaune responded in kind, raising his sword to intercept. He instinctively flew through the well practiced motions he had practiced and executed over and over in The Dream. His sword raised at a high angle, catching the massive arm with his blade, sweeping it to the side. Jaune stepped forward under the arm and stabbed his knife into Jangles's ribs. Jangles the Moon Monkey howled in pain as it felt the sharp iron slide in between its ribs. Jaune spun and took a step. He was now behind Jangles. Reversing the grip of both his blades and slamming them backwards. He felt them cut into the grimm flesh. There was a stumbling thunking sound as Jangles fell to the ground. Jaune's composure fell as he sensed that the battle had ended. He turned to see his enemy, which was wheezing on the ground and bleeding out. Jaune eased himself backwards, sitting on the hip of the dying grimm.
He let out a breath.
"I always wondered why, you know." Jaune asked. "Why we do this dance over and over. I kill you, you kill me, over and over again." Jaune lemented
The grimm gave a wheezing chuffing sound in response. Jaune continued monologuing.
"You were a good fight, you know." Jaune looked at the Berengal's visible eye. "You should be proud of yourself. You'll die a noble death."
Jaune leaned back, staring up at the canopied sky. He chuckled at a random thought that had just popped into his head.
"You know something, Jangles?" Jaune asked, not looking at the dying gorilla. The gorilla gave another wheezing chuff.
"You might be the person who understands me the best." Jaune said rather seriously. Then he giggled at the thought before sobering up again.
"You don't really care. You know exactly where we stand. Me and you. You try to kill me, I try to kill you, it's simple. There's no betrayal, no bittersweet goodbye, not a single care in the world besides who's standing at the end. It was just me and you in those moments. We both knew where we stood with each other." jaune sighed. "It was refreshing. No rules, no hopes and dreams, nothing. Nothing but the moment." If jaune had a cigarette, he would have taken a long drag at this moment. With a grunt, the injured dreamer stood, leveling his sword at the monkey's neck. Jangles the Moon Monkey looked at his blonde killer with a kind of disinterested acceptance. Like he was bored with the concept of death.
Jaune's head tilted to the side as he gazed into the dying thing's eyes. "Well, I won't keep you here any longer, Jangles." He said as he thrust his sword into the thick neck of the grimm monster. "I'll see you in hell, old friend."
Jaune watched his last companion dissolve into dust. "You know." jaune asked the dissolving corpse as it started to drift into the wind. "I wonder if you understood a single word I said."
Jaune left the basin grave, leaving behind a broken shield embedded into the ground, and a small pile of black dust.
Jaune didn't make great progress that day, as he was recovering from that fateful fight with Jangles the Moon Monkey. Jaune climbed up a tree, hoping to see some sign of direction. A mountain or a landmark would have been nice.
Alas, Jaune saw nothing from the continuing expanse of green. Nothing but the forest as far as the eye could see. He turned to the left, seeing the outlines of the mountains
Jaune felt his eye twitch as his vision blurred with tears. He was shaking by the time he was on the ground, he was shaking in tears.
"AARRRGGG!" Jaune screamed out as he slammed his fist against a tree. Jaune cringed at the crack that emitted, tenderly taking his hand away.
It shot pain up his hand. "Owwwwwww." He whimpered, crying from the myriad of emotions. He cursed himself for being so weak. Damn it Jaune. It's exactly why everyone left you. You're on your own now, You can't afford this kind of weakness.
Jaune gave another punch into the tree. And another, and another. At some point he started burning aura, partially to keep his hands in one piece. His breath became mingled with angry words and unintelligible screams.
He eventually ran out of team, and his eyes felt spent. Stumbling like a drunkard, he tripped over his own feet more than he put them in front of each other.
I'm so tired of being weak. Jaune thought as he leaned against a tree. His legs gave out from under him, sending him to a sitting position. Jaune rested his face in his hands.
He wasn't sure when he had closed his eyes, but he opened them to the familiar crumbling wall in The Keep.
Jaune gave a weary look to the large closed doors that led to The Doctors room. Jaune gave it a glare, thinking about the several dozen times he had tried, and failed, to defeat the mad doctor.
A shame that he could never get any useful information out of The Mad Doctor.
Jaune turned in the other direction. I think I saw a staircase somewhere near here. He thought.
I'm not quite sure how he got here. Jaune thought as he sat upon a literal hill of bodies. He had decended the stairway, which led to the basement level complex.
Which was almost as equally as massive as the keep itself. Jaune had wandered the damp underdark, occasionally having to slay some semi sentient mushrooms,
Then he came across the Dungeons. Cells upon cells of drunken ghouls, dead corspes and other ungodly things Jaune really didn't want to think about.
The Jaune encountered The Warden. A massive brute of a ghoul with a very large club sword thing. It had reminded Jaune a little bit of Cardin, as it took a devastating swing with a roar.
Jaune frowned, tilting his ear to the side. Was that boss music he was hearing?
Jaune shrugged and rolled forward. His blade jabbed into the giant's thigh.
Jaune dodged again as the massive ghoul stomped.
Right. Time to deploy tactic number four. Jaune thought as he stabbed the massive creature in the butt.
Roll up from behind and thrust.
Wait.
That sounded pretty bad.
He could go take a stab at the ass?
That somehow sounded worse.
Wreck them in the rectum.
Oh jesus christ what is wrong with me? Jaune thought. Wait, I'm still fighting this dude.
FUCK!
Jaune was promptly wacked in the chest, sent flying and tumbling to the cold damp floor.
Jaune groaned as he stood up. "Ow, you piece of shit." he grumbled as he started to run forward at the massive Warden. The Warden swung again, and Jaune had the sense of mind to 'jump' out of way, dissolving into lichen and crumbs of dust. Jaune reformed behind the armored beast, and spun to attack it in the anus.
God damn it jaune. The Dreamer cursed at himself. Jaune rolled again, this time actually paying attention to the fight going on.
This would go on for some time. Jaune's patented strategy was working very well: Assault it in the Ass.
Fuck. I did it again. Jaune grumbled mentally as he gave one last stab into the creature's glutes.
It groaned in pain as it fell down.
Jaune let out a sigh of relief at the death of the warden.
Then everything went to shit. Every single cell in the prison complex opened, unleashing at least dozens of starved ghouls upon the lone dreamer. Jaune had one thing, and one thing only to say on the subject.
"Fuck."
And thus the dance began, and Jaune learned two things very quickly.
One: Patented Arc Tactic Number Four: Stab it in the Shitter did not work.
Two: He really needed to workshop that name a little more.
And that fighting a lot of tiny things was probably worse than fighting one massive thing. It didn't help that Jaune was already a little tired from kicking the Wardens ass. Well, stabbing it really.
Eh, Potato Potata jaune thought as he teleported away, backstabbing one poor schmuck in the buttocks. He gave a gasp for breath as he held up his sword to block.
He failed the enemy that had snuck up behind him, which jumped onto his back and bit into his shoulder. Jaune fell backwards, his heavier armor causing the ghoul to be trapped beneath the dreaming knight. Jaune lashed out at the pale drunken things that saw an opportunity to dog pile on him. With some effort, Jaune blinked out from under the mass of bodies.
He cursed not having decided to pay enough attention in dust studies to make a bomb.
Do they even have dust here? Jaune wondered as he chugged a mouthful of alcohol. He felt his body start to knit together, even as he lashed out with his dagger. A move that should have torn open that claw wound on his side open even wider.
The ghoul fell with a cut face, and Jaune jabbed his long sword into its neck. It's painful screaming died out with a gurgling sound.
Jaune turned to the rest of the hoard. "Alright uglies, let's dance."
Jaune had learned something in the Dream. Dancing around your enemy was surprisingly effective. It made sense, if you took the time to think about it. Spinning and twisting and jolting out of the way would make you hard to hit, after all.
Jaune seemed to have a lot of that on his hands now. Time that is. How would one have a lot of dance on their hands? Jaune wondered absentmindedly as he dipped backwards to avoid a swipe. He gave a large two handed swing, cleaving all those that dared to be within a couple yards of Jaune. He took a moment to throw his knife into the backmost ghoul. Jaune took tally of how many were left.
Huh. only four left. I could have sworn I took out less of them. Jaune wondered as he advanced. A bolt of frost caught one of them in the chest, slowing them and weighing them down with a load of ice. Jaune rushed forward to take advantage of the slowing magic, slamming the hilt of his blade down in a Mordhau strike, the protective crossbar becoming a temporary hammer heard, diving into the creature's skull. It collapsed with a cracking sound similar to puncturing a coconut. Not that Jaune knew what that sounded like, but if he did, he would equate the two.
Jaune spun, catching a drunken thing that had gotten too close in a whirlwind of a sharp sword. It fell with several horizontal ish lacerations. The other two ghouls looked at each other, then to the ground before them. It was wet with the blood of their corrupted and twisted brothers and sisters. Looking back to each other once more, they turned tail and promptly ran out of the room, deeper into the dungeon levels.
Jaunes' composure collapsed as he flopped backwards onto the small hill of bodies. It was strange. He no longer minded the smell of alcohol. He could still smell it, but it just didn't bother him.
The smell of blood was the same. Jaune closed his eyes, and could feel the bodies underneath him shift and metamorphose. Jaune raised an eyebrow as he stood up. The ground that had been soaked with blood and liquor had shifted to be a small graveyard, of about ten or so stones. Jaune let out a long suffering breath.
Why can't things in this place make any sense?
Jaune layed back down, and closed his eyes. He would deal with it later.
If you've made it so far, thank you for suffering through my word vomit.
So, Jaune is not ok, we explore the Dream a little more, and we reveal part two of The Dream!
please give a review, it makes me happy.
Chapter 9Chapter Text
Jaune woke up back in the Mistral forest. Jaune mournfully looked up to the brightening red sky. Must be about sunrise. Jaune thought as he forced himself up. Jaune considered the last week and a half or so.
I should have taken Saph's advice and gone into computer science. Jaune could picture it already, getting some tech job somewhere, probably Atlas. He would make friends with other socially incompitant strangers that chose to hide behind screens like him. Maybe meet a cute Barista or Baker, perhaps a co-worker? Settle down, have a couple kids, see them off to their own lives, grow old and die. That would have made Mom happy.
Shame Jaune would have detested that life. It would… have been far too boring. If only I wasn't such a greedy bastard. Jaune thought to himself as he marched onwards.
You know, it's about time that I get another look at the path ahead. Jaune told himself as he stopped by a tree. Looking up, he quickly plotted his route.
Yeah, that could work.
Jaune started climbing with an unpracticed swiftness. If he moved fast enough, he wasn't doing it wrong. Jaune skittered up, making it to the top with only minor scraping damage.
Jaune gazed unto the horizon. There was just more and more green. Jaune was about to give up and scamper back down, he saw a gap in the forest. Beyond that, it was a long gap. Jaune quickly pulled out his map, and saw that it was, indeed, the road he was aiming for. Sure, it was more to his left than he would have liked, but it was visible!
Jaune wanted to scream for joy and relief, but managed to contain himself. He didn't want to alert the grimm as to where he was. He climbed down the tree and hit the ground with a soft thud, almost incomputably mingled with the sounds of the forest. Jaune made a flying sprint for the road, leaping through the undergrowth like a gazelle.
The day burned away as jaune leapt through the forest. Sure, he had to stop and walk for a few seconds before he could feel the burn in his muscles fade away.
Man, Aura must be one hell of a drug. Jaune thought as he began sprinting once more.
Jaune saw the gap in the trees some time half way between noon and sunset.
He reached it not two minutes later. A simple dirt road, a couple meters wide.
Jaune blinked at the mark of man. It was so strange, almost forign to him now.
It was unlike the Dream, in that it did not crumble with ash under his hands. Unlike the world, it was not teeming with life and green.
It was a simple dirt road, beaten into the earth by thousands of sets of feet, wheels, and hooves making their way from one place to another. And jaune would only add to them.
Welp, I better get going. Jaune thought, looking at the endless stretch of beaten earth. It's a long road ahead of me.
It took three days before Jaune saw actual evidence of someone else. Or rather, a lot of someones. A whole caravan of them, if the multitude of divots in the road indicate anything.
Jaune knelt down to inspect the tracks. Four of them, plus horses and two men on foot. The wagons are heavily laden, judging by how deep these tracks were.
Jaune glanced up to the sky once more. He could probably make another couple miles before it set. Jaune was starting to despise falling asleep, as it put him in a heartless and dire world full of grey.
Jaune wondered if he could get away with out it. Probably not a good idea…
Unless… Part A of his brain started.
No. Down Jaune. Jaune thought to himself. Sleep is good.
Jaune agreed with Jaune, and continued onward with his quest to find human life.
Or anything that spoke. He would settle for a talking frog at this point.
Jaune marched on, as silent as a sleeping knight. Part A started dooting a small diddle in his head.
Doot Dut Dut Doot, do-do-doot. Doot doodoot do Dooo! Doot. Doot doot dodo dodoot dut Doot Doot Doot.
Will you shut the fuck up?! Part B snapped at Part A. Part A gave B an audacious glare.
DOOT DOOT DOOT!
Jaune furrowed his brows in concentration. Is that the Schnii theme song?
Doot dut dut Doot, Do-do-doot. Part A confirmed.
Jaune's face fell into a tired stare.
…. I'm going to sleep. Jaune thought as he started to look for a suitable sleeping place
Part A continued to Doot. Part B merely suffered in silence.
Jaune crunched his way through a granola bar and sat just a little off the road, behind a tree. It was consumed quickly, and jaune closed his eyes.
He was back in the cell lined dungeon, where he had spent the last couple of nights. Rather, this is where he had started. He glanced at the elevator in the back of the room. He had taken it up and down. Down it led to a sewer system, where Jaune got ambushed by large leech-like lizard things that had bled him dry. Jaune had died during that encounter, and was not a process he wanted to repeat again.
Being sucked dry of your blood was actually a rather unpleasant experience.
To the upper end, it led to a series of spires and stairs. Jaune had quickly become a little lost, and ended up misjudging a jump from one ledge to another. That small mistake sent the poor dreamer tumbling to his death.
Jaune sighed, a little annoyed that he hadn't made any progress in the dream. Jaune sighed as he leaned back on the gravestone. The sound of a glass bottle tipping over alerted him that there was, indeed, a bottle. That was not in his sack. Jaune turned to grab the round onion bottle.
It was filled with a dark brown sloshy liquid, and was clearly labeled. Spirit of a Tempered Warden. It read in bold red scripting.
Jaune tilted his head, thinking. That was an oddity. None of the alcohol he found was ever labeled with any actual words on it. Sure, sometimes they would have a wax label (jaune had started a collection of the seals from various things.) or an embossing on the bottle, but never a bottle with an actual written label.
Jaune popped it open. It smelled strong, like a sour beer. Jaune raised the glass to his lips and took a swig. He rolled the beer around in his mouth. It was surprisingly complex, with bits of oak and cherry and something oddly earthy. Root Boozles?
Jaune leaned back against the grave, feeling oddly mello. He felt oddly like he was being filled, in an inverse way compared to when he cast a spell in this place. The feeling reached his head, and then continued to flow into him. It was getting denser, and denser. Not quite uncomfortable, but most certainly overly full.
Jaune leaned back and let out a sigh. The feeling suddenly seemed to reach a critical mass, leveling out to be a constant state of halfway there. And just as suddenly as it started, the strange feeling started draining out of him, pouring out of his skin, siphoning out with every breath. It seemed to seep into the gravestone, and then fade away into elsewhere.
Jaune stood up after probably a long time, and did some small stretching. His spine popped satisfyingly as he got ready to take on the… day? Night? Dream? Did this place even have a day night cycle?
Jaune shook his head with a hand dragging down his face.
He couldn't really remember what the moon looked like anymore. He knew it was broken, in half? Half sounded about right, but what did he know?
Jaune hopped on the elevator, pulling on the cord that took him up. The ancient elevator creaked and cranked and chugged upwards. Jaune pulled out his bow and arrows. He remembered that there were some rather annoying archery and crossbow men on the rooftops, ledges and other outcroppings where one could set up and shoot at noodly blonde knights. Jaune wondered if they had made a game out it already. Could they make games?
Jaune pondered this as he walked off the elevator. The sight before him was a series of open walled bridges leading to towers, spanning across like a demented spiderweb.
Or perhaps a Spire-web. Part A snickered. Jaune rolled his eyes as he walked to the edge of one of the bridges. He knocked an arrow and pulled, his arm swinging upwards until it fell inline with his target. Jaune steadied himself, waiting a moment to adjust his aim. He let go, letting the arrow fly straight. It pierced into the drunken archer's knee, sending the creature tumbling down to its death. Jaune repeated the process, turning a little to his right and angling up some more.
This one missed by about a yard and a half. Maybe a little more. Jaune grumbled and readjusted, taking into account the nasty drunken thing's scampering as best he could. This one did hit him, sending him to the ground to bleed out. Jaune could hear the pained screeched and groaning as the creature writhed out of sight. Jaune closed his eyes and tried to ignore it, swiftly moving away.
He made sure the rest of his kills were cleaner. Either he sent them tumbling off into the abyss below, or he killed them instantly with a flying stake through the heart, lungs, or head when he could manage. He made it across the bridge stowing his bow away across his shoulder.
Jaune had noticed something strange about The Dream. Time was odd here. The equivalent of days was crammed into one stint in the dream, but mere minutes were stretched out into hours of the real world.
Jaune looked at the door ahead of him. It was locked, because why wouldn't it be? This door had secrets that should not be known, things that should not see the light of day.
And fuck the other doors, this one wanted to be special.
Jaune had considered jamming a knife in there and seeing if that would work.
Hey, it works in the Spruce Willis movies! A argued.
Jaune decided to just remove the hinges with his sword. Edging the tip of his blade inbetween the bolt of the hinges and the hinge itself, and levered down. The bolt popped up with the sound of metal being abused.
Jaune repeated the process for the next hinge. The door fell over with an almost pathetic thud. Jaune looked at it, disappointed.
Poking his head into the room, he half expected it to be filled with gold or something.
Instead it looked like someone's office. A coat rack with a black grey coat made out of ?(Object not recognized)?
Jaune squinted as he walked over to it.
Feathers. The damn coat was made out of feathers.
Or rather, that weird shoulder cape part was made out of feathers. Or was it fur?
Jaune really couldn't tell. It looked like fur, but as Jaune ran his fingers through the stuff, it felt very much like feathers. Jaune took it off the rack, and gave it a once over. It seemed to be in rather good condition. The inside was rather soft.
Jaune put it on, slipping it under his various straps that held his quiver and sack. Jaune turned, feeling the cape resist the motion slightly, as all free floating bodies of cloth do.
The desk in this office was littered with papers and long dried wells of ink. Splatterings of ink stained the greyed wood desk. The papers were drowning in circles, runes, and other markings Jaune didn't even pretend to vaguely understand. In the center, a blank piece of paper with the edges beautifully done in similar scribblings. Jaune picked up the paper, and almost dropped it in shock as it started to change. The ink that embroidered the edges of the paper began to bleed towards the center, like tiny rivers and streams. They spun and swirled around, forming the outlining roads and words one would find on a map. And just as quickly as the lines poured and flooded in from the sides, they stopped.
What Jaune ended up holding was a map of what jaune assumed was The Dream. It was mostly unfilled as it only had a portion labeled "Flat Lake" filled in, and a circle with the words "The Eternal City" above it. Jaune was making the assumption that he was in this Eternal City.
Certainly seemed enough like one. Jaune took some time to sort through the rest of the scribbles, hoping to find something of interest.
He kept a couple of pages that he would consider more art than math, or magic, whatever they were, to put in his ever light pouch. Jaune was carrying swords, shields, arrows, bolts, crossbows, spears, halberds, and armor in that, and it felt like it was only full with five or so pounds of stuff.
Man, Jaune loved dream physics.
Only when he didn't think about them. Otherwise they gave him a headache. Jaune exited the room after he had explored it to his own content.
Jaune could not help but find the eternal city to be rather dull. It was nothing but stones and grey skies. Jaune wished that he could see some actual plant life in this place.
Perhaps he should try bringing a bonsai tree or something from the real world over here?
Might be worth a shot.
Jaune had probably spent days? Yeah, days in the dream before he came across a gravestone. He had made it almost across a whole ring of the city, and was in a "ranger's outpost" if the banner, in tatters and laying indignantly on the partially collapsed wall, indicated. Jaune took stock of the usable items, which included a couple poems? Spells? They were probably spells, but that line was really starting to blur.
"Why can't magic make any sense?" Jaune said out loud. "Probably because if it did, then it wouldn't be magic would it? It would be science, of some form." part B responded.
"And now you're talking to yourself, Jaune. Way to go, you're fucking loosing it." Jaune groaned as he read a paragraph of rhyme about the nature of creating paths through the woods.
Jaune looked out to the small yard, whatever grass that had grown there was long since dead and ashes. A small graveyard was tucked away in the corner, and Jaune was never more relieved to see an exit from this place.
Jaune sat down, leaned back, and closed his eyes. A relieved breath escaped him as he could feel the strain from being in The Dream melt away.
Jaune awoke laying in the mud turned ground, a thin layer of moss had grown on him. He was probably about an inch deep in the dirt, and the air smelled of recent rain. Jaune sat up, his cowl pulling up patches of moss that clinged stubbornly to their once still resting place. Jaune put his hands to his head and twisted, popping his neck. He then did the same with his back, doing helicopter stretches to hopefully wake up his sedentary muscles.
Jaune looked up at the sky, and saw it to be mid morning. "Best be getting on it, then." Jaune said to himself. "Aye, I suppose you should." A responded, oddly in a serious tone for once. Jaune didn't think it would last.
Jaune paced on, his feet leaving light prints in the wet mud.
Jaune would go on for several days, sleeping on the hard earth, or against a tree when one suitable for sleeping was available, and going to The Dream. He had gotten quite good at the bow, if he could say so himself.
Jaune found himself very, very bored with his life at the moment. He had lost track of time, and couldn't tell the difference between a day and four.
I miss the moon. Jaune thought somberly, looking up at the bright blue sky. Jaune considered skipping sleeping tonight, even if it was to just see the stars once more. Jaune continued his march, unwavering and unyielding. The sun reached its apex and fell long before Jaune even considered stopping. Jaune watched in awe as the sun set. He scampered up a tree, if only to see just a few more seconds of the world being painted. It was like seeing it for the first time all over again.
Jaune sat there for a couple minutes after the sun had faded away, just in a calm kind of serenity. Jaune took a breath in, and looked up.
The moon was hanging in the sky, it's various bits of debris orbiting lazily and slowly around it as it ruled over the stars that dotted the sky like diamonds.
Jaune just sat there for the night, staring up at the dark night sky.
He watched the sun rise in that same spot, unwavering with the trees.
We really should get going. B said as Jaune watched the sky turn from pink and orange to the normal blue.
"I suppose we should." jaune said as he fell from the tree. He landed softly, and looked up at the sky. Right, he had to head westward.
He strode on with the purpose of a man.
A man that just wanted to sleep in an actual bed for once. And food made in an actual kitchen. Jaune's brow furrowed as he looked down. When was the last time I ate? Jaune asked.
B just shrugged, while A spun in one of those office chairs over and over.
Wheeeeee~! A went around and around. Jaune tuned him out with practiced ease.
Jaune continued on at a robotic pace, stopping only once to piss. Hunger became a long distant memory, something Jaune was not sure if it was a good sign or if it ment he was dying.
People feel really warm when dying of hypothermia, yes? Jaune asked A and B. B nodded.
I think so. B responded. I don't know what you don't know though. I suppose it could be similar.
Wheeeee! A went around and round.
Jaune rolled his eyes, still marching on. I don't know why we keep him around.
B shrugged. Because he's entertaining, and probably not a psychopath.
Jaune nodded. "I suppose you're right, as usual."
You should probably eat sometime soon. A supplied from his spinning.
Jaune nodded. "An excellent suggestion." Jaune pulled his pack in front of him. He pulled out a fistfull of various vegetables.
Man, he would kill for a stove and pans right now. He missed cooking. Jaune really should stop one night and play his guitar. It was short of a miracle that it hadn't broken beyond a quick repair yet.
Jaune watched the sun dip away, and was about to settle down for the night. But behold, as one might see a wayfinder beacon in the darkest hour, firelight danced at the horizon of Jaune's eye.
A perked up immediately. People! People! Jaune, do you see that! There's people over there!
Jaune didn't even recognize he was running until a branch smacked him in the face at full speed. Jaune stopped and blinked, letting his aura heal him after the stunning smack wore off. He approached with more caution after that lesson. He saw a caravan, three carts total, along with some horses. The cartes were filled with… were those cages?
What in the world would they be transporting?
Jaune squinted as he approached cautiously, now in suspicion rather than to not startle the caravaners.
Oh dear god, those were people in those cages.
Welp, there went the peaceful plan. Jaune did a quick mental tally of the slavers. Five total around the campfire. Three asleep, one actually alert and one nearly out of it. The carts were set up in a triangular way facing the road. Must be for an easy morning start. Jaune flipped his hood up, not noticing the odd added weight by the patch of algae on the left side.
"Thus the expert in battle moves the enemy, and is not moved by him." B supplied helpfully, quoting an excerpt from The Art of War.
Jaune nodded.
A was practically jumping. Muder Time! It's Murder time! He pranced with a little tune.
B gave him a concerned wide eyes look. You know what I said about A being the stablest out of all of us?
Jaune nodded as he picked up a somewhat weighty log.
I take it back. B said as Jaune gave the log a toss to the side. It landed with the sound of disturbed leaves. Jaune moved in the opposite direction.
Sleepy, Jaune decided to call him, perked up at the sound as Alert jostled the man next to him awake.
Jaune dared to glance up to the cages. They were tiny things, for the people they housed. Full adults were crammed in a meter tall cage that was less than 3 fourths than that. One of the occupants, a teenager that couldn't have been older than him, opened an eye. Their eyes glowed bright yellow orange. Jaune held a finger to his mouth, motion for her to be silent.
She looked over to the slavers.
It was too late for them though. As they stood up and moved towards the log, jaune flanked from behind. He pulled out his short sword and knife, crouching low. Sleepy was in the back, and the other four had made a diamond formation as they stalked towards the sound.
Jaune makes his move, leaping forward with his sword in front. Sleepy's eyes widened as he felt a sword jab through his rib cage. There was a gasp from Sleepy and the enslaved as the blade thrust through. The slavers turned around in shock as Sleepy fell off Jaunes blade.
"Oi! He killed jack!" one of the Sleepers yelled out, leveling a firearm at Jaune. Jaune held Sleepy in front as he advanced, using the corpse as a bullet sponge.
BANG! BANG, BANG, BANG! The revolver shots went off, sending bits of blood to fly out the backside. It didn't phase Jaune, who continued marching on.
He supposed it should have phased him. He held a once living, breathing human with a large hole in his chest that was complete fault of his own, in his hands. He was using that once living, breathing human as a meatshield to not be shot.
The stench of blood should have thrown him, made him feel something.
Jaune had been in The Dream for far too long for that to matter anymore.
That visceral feeling that should come with the giving of the rib cage was not there. There was no panic, no second thought, no regret.
The Dream had beaten that out of him a long time ago.
That was probably a bad thing. Jaune wondered if he still counted as human. B shrugged. Would it matter?
Less talk, more stabbing! A responded as he made punches and jabs in the air, as if he had a blade in his hand.
A was right. They were still in the middle of a firefight. Jaune tossed Sleepy- sorry, Jack, at one of them as he jumped at the gunman. It was not elegant, as Pyrrha would have been. It was not clean, precision cut and measures without an action wasted as Ren would have executed.
It was not with blistering speed that Ruby achieved.
It was not a silent move, almost hidden with subterfuge that Blake was so good at.
It was not with the light dancing beauty Wiess would have moved with.
Nor was it with the rambunctious happy energy that Yang would have carried into the lunge, as though it was some kind of sports game.
It was with a brutal kind of efficiency. A straight line between him and the dead man standing. The purest essence of violence was within that lunge. From the impact to the stabbing to the stumble to the ground.
It was not pretty. It was not kind. It was not elegant. It was not gilded. It hid nothing from the world. It was exactly what it was, whether it wanted to or not.
And in that moment the dead man saw exactly what those hard blue eyes were, as he felt his back hit the ground.
Albert Ferrows died before he could spit out another word. Jaune's head snapped up to his next target, his blue eyes locking onto a man fumbling a shotgun, his shaky hands not able to load the heavy hitting firearm.
Jaune moved with reckless speed to get to his target. One must always move into battle. It is with action that the path of war is paved. Make sure you are directing that path. Jaune remembered the quote from Oobleck's parting gift.
The man was missing his windpipe before he could even prime the shotgun. The last three of the five men backed away, each of them holding some form of cheap firearm in their shaky hands. Jaune leveled his blade into an open stance, entering a showdown of sorts between him and the bandits.
The one in the back, Alert, turned tail to flee. He had decided that it would be better to loose the cargo and live than dare to stand in the way of that thing. "It can't be human! Not even huntsmen move that fast!" he muttered with panic in his voice.
Jaune saw him turn and dash towards the horses. Oh, no he does not! A yelled as jaune grabbed the pommel of his knife.
It flew through the air with a soft whistle, piercing itself into the back of Alert's knee. He screamed as he fell, breaking his nose upon the edge of a cage. "Ow, fuck fuck fucking shit that hurt, Asshole!" He yelled, cradling his knee.
Jaune ignored the comment, moving with purpose towards the last two. One of them pulled out an axe. It was a short handled thing, ment for one hand wielding. The bandit did a small twirl and charged. Jaune dipped to the side, and wrapped his arm around the bandit's outstretched limb. With a jerk of his elbow and a terrible mix between a ripping and a popping, the man's arm broke. He screamed in pain and dropped his ax to the ground.
His head followed with a quick slash of jaune's sword. Jaune bent to pick up the ax that the man had dropped
The last uninjured one managed to grab his fallen ally's shotgun, and leveled it at Jaune. "Not another step, or i'll blast a hole through your chest." He threatened, the flase bravery in his voice a bold, but futile attempt to hide his fear.
Jaune raised an eyebrow at him, the only mote of expression on his face. It was, of course, hidden by his hood. Jaune took a step forward.
The man pulled the trigger, hitting Jaune full force in the chest. Jaune was actually jolted back by the blow as his aura flashed to absorb the impact forces.
That… That hurt less than i thought it would. He registered before recentering himself. He and the Shotgun wielding bandit gave eachother an awkward stare for a moment, before Jaune took another step forard. The man fired off his second shot, but jaune was braced for this one. Jaune stepped forward, like an unwavering tide. The man clicked empty after the first step, and spend the other five desperately trying to reload the weapon. By the time it was snapped shut, Jaune was right infront of the man. The man snapped it closed, the look of relief and joy on his face melted into one of abstract terror once he saw the thing was less than a foot in front of him.
He gulped in fear as to what would happen to him.
Jaune kicked his shin, causing the support to bend. The shotgunning man fell to his knee, prostrating himself before Jaune. Jaunes sword impaled the leg that was still upright.
The man screamed in pain.
That scream was rather short lived as Jaune drove the ax into the man's skull. He couldn't help but wince at the sound and feeling of the bone dome caving in.
Jaune wretched his weapons out of the corpse, letting it fall and douse soak the ground.
Jaune approached the still whimpering man with His knife in his knee. Jaune hefted his ax, slamming it into the man's upper back.
His whimpering was silenced with a sharp gasp.
Jaune pulled his weapons out of the last corspe, giving a cautionary glance to the surrounding camp for any other sign of danger.
The slaves were cowering away in the furthest corners of their cage, as far away as possible from both the remnants of the slaughter and the moss covered thing that did the deed.
Jaune approached the nearest cage. A middle aged woman, probably about the age of 40, scrambled to the back of the cage, as far away from the door as she could.
Jaune grasped the lock, focusing his white grey aura into his fist. The lock bent and deformed under his clenching fist.
Jaune looked into the womans fear filled eyes. Jaune opened his mouth, about to speak in english.
They might not know English. This is the Minstrel country side. A supplied.
Mistral. B corrected.
A looked confused. What?
It's mistral, not Minstral. Minstral is a kind of fool, or clown. B explained
A's head tilted. Huh, I always thought it was Minstral.
I did too. Jaune said
Nope. It's Mistral. No N in it. B said.
Jaune returned his attention to the problem at hand, enriched by the new information about the name of the country he was in.
"Do not fear." Jaune said in Feral. "You will suffer no harm from me."
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TO BE CONTINUED