Jaune moved with a speed that James didn't think was possible for a man in armor to achieve. It was practically a green grey blur that ran towards the bear like grimm. A silver flash and a clanging sound range out. Jaune stood in between the crashed refugees and the ursai, Glassvain in interception with a large paw. Jaune's arm shook as the bear pushed down, trying to force the knightly ranger to buckle. Jaune glanced around, seeing that the other two ursai were moving towards the frightened and cowering faunus.
That's not good. A commented. B gave him a look
You don't fucking say?
Jaune buckled, sliding underneath the ursa. Glassvain extended, tethering itself at the shoulder of the bear like grimm. Once Jaune was through the ursa's hind legs, Glassvain retracted.
The serrated rope suddenly retracted, grated and ripped at the chest of the Ursa. It howled in pain as Jaune shifted his attention to another Ursa. Glassvain lashed out, it's segmented whip biting against the back hide of the Ursa. it stopped to turn to the source of the sudden biting pain, growling angrily.
"Yeah, yeah." Jaune grumbled as the ursai lumbered toward him. "I don't like you guys either."
Glassvain whipped out, hoping to keep the beasts at bay. One of them swiped at the blonde ranger, hoping to catch the pesky thing in his massive clawed paw. Jaune dipped to the side to dodge the blow, only to be caught by another swipe. Jaune's grey yellow aura flashed as Jaune was knocked to the ground.
Jaune grunted, turning the impact into an ungraceful roll. He slid out under one of the ursa.
Well, at least they're focused on you and not the civilians. B said, looking on the bright side.
That's odd for you. Jaune noted. You're normally the pessimistic one.
Dodge. The ursa's charging. A flatly said.
"Thank you." Jaune said as he tensed and prepared to dodge. His legs tensed as his position lowered, ready to spring.
The ursa leapt forward, hoping to ensnare the blonde ranger and rip it apart with his jaws. Jaune twisted out of the way in a move not unlike a dancer's spin. Glassvain lashed out with the force of the spin cutting at the thick furry hide of the bear. Jaune stopped on a dime, just barely not running directly into Ursa numer two.
Or was this one number three? They all looked the same to him.
Is that racist of me? Jaune wondered as Jaune ducked a claw swipe
Their grimm, jaune. B said flatly. I don't think anyone cares.
Jaune hummed as he jolted and dashed between the two Ursa. Well, hummed isn't quite the correct term. He vibrated his vocal muscles?
No that sounds wrong and strange on many many levels.
He made a noise. Yeah, he made a noise as he ducked and bobbed and weaved between the two massive grimm. They roared and cried as Glassvain cut chunks out of them, their overly cumbersome clawed arms unable to touch the scampering ranger. Jaune was batted between the two, only taking glancing blows with his aura when necessary. Now, if only he could find a deadly hit on his enemies, he could end the fight.
"Back! Back!" He heard cried out from the grounded survivors. Jaune's eyes locked on to them.
The last ursa had given up on getting in on the ranger action, and had shifted its attention to the refugees. One of the brave souls had grabbed a spear, and was trying to ward the bear away.
Wait, is that one of ours? A asked as he looked at the iron forged rod. It was odd that any of the refugees would have one.
Who cares? Jaune thought as he started to panic. Civilians couldn't handle grimm. He knew that. Hell anyone with half a brain knew that.
Jaune looked up at the ursa he was fighting, temporary distracted by the spike of panic. With a terrible and forceful swiftness, Jaune rammed Glassvain in it's sword from through the head of the Ursa infront of him. It pierced the back spine, in the area just between the bottom of the jaw and back of head below the skull.
The grimm died instantly from the blow. But Jaune didn't care, he was already moving. He lept over the grimm's slumping corpse, rushing towards the spear wielding dog faunus.
The dog faunus poked at the bear, hoping to make some space. He was giving space step by step, his legs shaky. The ursa, on the other hand, was solidly placed and just watted the spear head away.
The spear head snapped from the pole. Jaune was half way when the ursa made a retaliatory swipe, the full weight of a single bear arm shattering through the shaft of the headless spear. A futile effort to block the deadly swipe.
Jaune was half way to where he needed to be when the claw made contact with the mans side. In a similar fashion to having your side blasted with buckshot, his torso exploded as his left half was ripped away from his body.
The scream would live on in many memories forever. It would most certainly live in Jaunes until he would fade from the world, like the plaster ash came from.
Jaune had the maul that he broke the Plague Doctor with in hand, reared back to strike by the time jaune was in front of the Ursa.
The maul swung with a force that would have made Nora proud, whistling through the air.
It made a harsh and terrible contact with the ursa's ribs, the cracking sound reverberating through the world, as though some awe creating shockwave had run through it.
And for a moment, the paradigm shifted with the blow. As though the entire world took a step to the left, all stumbled as for a brief, brief moment, Jaune saw grey. Like an over image that someone hadn't quite fully let saturate, the world was tinted grey with ash and dust.
The air spiked with the smell of blood and alcohol, for just an infinitesimally small moment.
for just an infinitesimally small moment, Jaune was dreaming.
And as soon as it happened, it was gone. Jaune snapped himself out of this strange discombobulation.
His hammer blow was followed up with striking the side of the ursa's heaving head with the butt of his maul. Dazed, gasping and struggling for breath with broken ribs, the bear was staggered. And Jaune used that moment to cave the monster's head in. The maul connected with a hefty overhead swing, slamming the ursa's head to meet suddenly with the ground.
Jaune turned to his fallen comrade, a man who's protection was entrusted to him, bleeding out on the ground. He didn't even bother to see the last ursa retreating, deciding that its life was not worth whatever it would fight that yellow thing for.
There was something wrong with that…. Thing. It was shaped like man, walked like man, and if you squinted fought like the hairless apes called man. But it was not man. That blow was not a blow of man.
Man did not wield such power. Not power like that. No thing, dead, alive, beyond or inbetween, wielded power like that.
The Ursa lumbered off into the woods. There would be less dangerous prey to feast on. There always was.
Jaune's knees hit the ground, groveling above the bleeding man. "No no no no no" jaune muttered as he tried to push the mans bleeding intestines back into his body cavity. "Why is it so slippery!" he yelled in frustration as the eel-like organs slipped through his hands. "Some hand me a bandage! A scarf, anything to stop the bleeding!" The ranger begged his fellows, preying that someone could save him.
One of the mothers handed Jaune her headscarf. Jaune started to desperately wrap the wound.
Jaune glanced at the dog faunus's chest.
It's not moving. He's not moving. B noted seriously. Jaune froze for a moment. Thats not good. He was supposed to be breathing.
He had to be breathing!
OK. Calm down Jaune. You were a lifeguard once. You know CPR. Jaune reminded himself as he started to pump the dog faunus' blood soaked chest.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying alive, staying alive. Ah ah ah ah stayin alive." Jaune sang under his breath, trying to get his shaking hands to keep beat. They slipped onto the ground, the blood making his chest slick and hard to grasp properly.
"Jaune!" Someone was calling his name. It was odd, it sounded so far away. Jaune kept pumping, desperately trying to bring the man back.
"Jaune!" There was the voice again. Jaune was giving him mouth to mouth now, huffing air into the still lungs. "Jaune!" They had put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him away from the body.
He surged forward, desperately trying to pump life into the dog faunus once more.
""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." He muttered the healing prayer from The Dream over and over, praying to whatever god was incharge that it was heard. That it worked some sort of miracle.
He was grabbed by the arms and forcefully pulled away, jolting him out of his desperate attempt.
"He's gone, Jaune." they said. Jaune couldn't remember who had pulled him away, or who's shoulder he had cried on. "He's dead."
Those were words Jaune, logically, knew he would hear in his profession as a huntsman. But he was not ready to hear them yet. Not so soon.
Not yet.
And those words could break a man who was not ready to hear them.
And those words broke the man who was not ready to hear them.
Jaune was silent as stone there for what felt like an eternity. "What was his name?" he finally croaked out.
One of the fanus blinked. "I think his name was Reed."
The rest of the trip was at best a blurr. Jaune vaguely remembered carrying Reed's body to Rogues Hill. he vaguely remembered dealing with some racist prick at the inn as he acquired room and board for the refugees. He vaguely remembering standing solemnly as his corpse, unshrouded by any coffin, was lowered into a grave outside of the town walls.
Jaune stayed up that night. He left in the morning, at the crack of dawn. He vaguely remembered saying goodbye to them as he left on a borrowed horse.
Jaune looked up at the reddening sky full of stars.
The sun is rising. A noted.
Indeed it was. This would be the third sunrise Jaune would bear witness to since he left the fanus at Rogues Hill. he hoped that they were fine and acclimating to Rogues Hill, or wherever they went from Rogues Hill, well.
You must sleep, jaune. B commanded. This isn't healthy.
Jaune didn't respond, instead locking his bagged and cracked eyes forward on the road.
Jaune, just stop and rest. Lord knows you need it.
Oh? Jaune responded with a distinct tiredness. And what did that Lord ever do for me?
B rolled his eyes and A signed. Just get some sleep, ok?
"I'll sleep the next time I find a god damned bed." Jaune muttered. He gave his horse a light kick, spurring it on further down the dusty road.
" I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
La, la, la lala la la la, la, la
La, la, la lala la la la, la, la" Jaune hummed, trying to distract himself to stay awake. "Dum du duaaa- how did that song go?"
You look in her eyes, the music begins to play~ A supplied with a light singsong voice.
"No, that's New Kid in Town. The Eagles, right?"
B shrugged. I don't know music. Might as well be the Archive Men for all I know.
Jaune looked down the road. "I wonder if it ends." he said to the wind.
They didn't answer.
"Rude." jaune responded to the wind with a yawn. "Oh, that's not good."
Jaune closed his eyes, and felt himself fall sideways. He was asleep before he hit the ground.
Jaune woke up in the middle of a farm town. "This is new." he said as he looked around.
Wait, no.
"I just left here. From the last time I was in the Dream."
Three days ago. B supplied harshly.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, mom." Jaune rolled his eyes.
Yeah, whatever you say, Mom! A snorted in a jeering manner.
B sighed, not quite understanding why he put up these idiots. Perhaps it was because he was kind of stuck in Jaune's head.
Jaune started to wander the abandoned farm town.
You are not welcome. That feeling came again, nagging at the back of his mind.
Jaune squinted at the edges of the town with a burning sarcasm. "Tell me something I don't know." He muttered in defiance. He trodded out towards the edge, coming to the edge of a low muddied field. On the opposite side a veritable wall of corn stalks, hay yellowed with dead age.
Jaune stared at it for a moment. "I'm going to die if I go in there, right?" he asked
A shrugged. Probably. This place is straight out of What Lies in the Fields.
I didn't know you've read HP Lovecleft? B said, surprised.
A shrugged. I've read what you've read. He responded. Jaune walked to the wall of corn, almost daring it to show him what dangers it held.
It stood there, almost motionless as it swayed in what little wind there was. With a sigh, Jaune walked through the threshold of stalks.
This place smelled like fertilizer. Decay. Rot. and just a slight undertone of the familiar stench of alcohol.
It was a very different smell than the dry, dusty liquor of the eternal city. A very different smell. And yet it still seemed the same. Unwelcome, Unnatural. Something wholly not from the plane jaune was from.
And yet it felt familiar. Jaune supposed it was natural that it would feel familiar to him. He couldn't even begin to comprehend how much time he had spent in this lifeless, god forsaken, drunken place.
It was as though the very earth itself had become inebriated by the extremely high BAC blood that had been spilled. Jaune wondered if this world was indeed drunk. It would explain a lot of things about this place.
Yeah, like it looks like an absolute dumpster fire of a fuck up. A commented, thinking back to the crumbling buildings and ruined roads of the Eternal city. Jaune agreed with the figment of a personality in his brain.
HEY! A refuted loudly, causing Jaune to wince. I resent that! I'm one whole brain cell!
Jaune shook his head as he started to wade through the stalks, cautious for anything that might be moving in the tall grass. Jaune's head turned on a swivel. Something about this place was unwelcoming.
Flee this place. That nagging feeling came again.
Well, besides that. The voice that was neither A or B was concerning. Perhaps a manifestation of his desire to not be trapped in this purgatorius drunken hellscape?
He supposed it would make sense, on some form of rudimentary psychoanalysis.
I wonder why there is no life here. B said as Jaune ran a hand over a corn stalk. It was dead, bending harshly under his fingers. We are truly alone in this world
If there is, they are like us. Jaune responded solemnly.
Oh? B questioned. What do you mean by that?
They're lonely too.
Jaune continued to walk.
And there was a sudden clank sound as Jaunes leg exploded in pain. Jaune looked down at his leg, where a whole bear trap had been triggered. On his leg. "Oh, fucking fuck!" jaune yelled as he gripped the jaws. "Mother of god that hurt!"
His eyes closed for a moment, and he could see a bloodied chest and a ripped stomach. He was shaken out when he heard an unholy screeching sound. With urgency, he ripped the jaw trap open, and quickly started to scamper back. There was the shifting of the stalks infront of him, just a couple meters away. The thing in the corn snarled and snuffed as it approached Jaune what appeared to be an alarming speed.
With a rather severe limp Jaune ran away, desperately backtracking to the town. He could feel his heartbeat rapidly. He could hear the thing behind him closing in.
Curse this damned injured leg Jaune thought as he limped away. The fact that he was leaving behind a fresh, very easily followable trail was not helpful either.
Jaune saw the corn stalks thinning, and dove for it. He rolled, cursing the fact that he forgot that his leg was currently missing a large chunk of his leg. "Ohh, fuck that hurt." he muttered under his breath as he cradled his leg.
You're still in danger. B reminded him. Jaune nodded and pushed himself just past the wall of corn stalks and into the town space. Jaune turned and drew out a spear, posed to strike.
The corn rustled as whatever was chasing him came to an abrupt stop, hiding itself in the corn.
Jaune's head tilted as he stared at the disfigurement in the field. "Why isn't it coming closer?" Jaune asked, extremely confused. There was literally nothing stopping it but a single layer of dead corn stalks.
Jaune moved just a tiny bit closer, his spear level to where Jaune thought it's head was, assuming it was slightly humanoid shaped. With a grunt, the spear shot forward. It made contact with whatever was hidden in the corn, eliciting a terrible squealing screech from the thing. It sounded like a dying cat, but spoken through a beak.
Jaune pulled the spear back as the thing retreated, looking at the clumpy black brown blood that oozed slowly off the metal head. Jaune tilted his head and stared at the strange "Blood" that dripped off the spear head.
Jaune kneeled to his knee, grasping his bleeding leg. "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." He said, as he felt his leg sting as his blood turned to wine. The deep wound started to froth and scab over with a fizzing sound that seemed similar to the combination of vinegar and baking soda.
Well, that was weird. A said as he kept an eye on the corn field.
It was strange. And very dangerous. Jaune had no intention of daring the ire of the corn fields again, particularly because the place was apparently fucking boobytrapped.
Jaune needed a drink.
Reaching into his sack, he grasped around, hoping to come across a bottle. He pulled out the black, slightly liquorice smelling ethanol from the Doctor.
"Might as well." Jaune said as he gazed contemplatively at the bottle of ethanol.
B was less sure. Remember the last time we took something like that? We fucking tripped on acid and blacked out.
Jaune made an approving face. What could go wrong.
Many, many things. B warned. Jaune walked into a rundown house, the door practically falling off it's hinges with its opening. Fantastic.
Jaune looked around the house. It in reality was probably some kind of shop, perhaps pottery or something. Jaune sat down on what was probably once a counter, a long time ago.
Jaune pulled out the foul smelling medical alcohol, palming and rolling the bottle in his hand.
Can I still recommend against this? B asked tentatively.
"Yes." Jaune said as he uncorked the ethanol. He reeled at the intense liquorice smell that it emitted. "Well, to good drinking." Jaune said as he tipped the bottle to open air.
To good drinking. A echoed as the bottle met Jaunes lips.
Jaune didn't think that he could really ever be used to the taste of alcohol. It burned in such a strange way, not quite like fire. Jaune forced himself to open up his throat and swallow the stuff.
Jaune blinked as he slightly slumped forward, the alcohol making him fade out for a moment.
That odd feeling of being filled with that strange phasmatic energy started up.
And then Jaune felt a great pain in his head. He fell forward, landing on his hands as his head exploded with sounds.
Yelling, screaming. The sound of… crumbling. The breaking of bones.
Then, his nose was overloaded with smells. Memories of fragents, aromas. Things that were not his.
Burning..., stone debris in the air, blood. The smell of alcohol, and it's burning.
Jaune heaved, his brain spinning inside his skull as the information rammed and slammed and forced its way into his neurons.
Then came the sights. Running, pulling people into the hospital wing of the Keep from the farm fields. Strange four legged creatures not unlike an incredibly shaggy dog, but whatever fur was replaced with fleshy tendrils and bone ligaments. He remembered hands that were not his own closing the doors, leaving those that were too slow to the hound things.
Jaune remembered things that were not his.
-ne A faint voice called out. Was that A? It sounded like him. Jaune, are you ok. Jaune!
Jaune blinked. He was on the floor, propping himself up by his hands.
He was shaking. He could feel his arms almost give out from under him. They didn't, because he was more concerned about the pool of vomit in front of him.
"When did I throw up?" he asked, gasping for breath.
You drank from the bottle, and you kind of started to blank out. We got concerned, and then you started to shake and fall to the ground. B said, consolingly.
"Oh god I feel awful." Jaune said as he collapsed backwards. "What in the hell even happened?"
We were hoping you could tell us. B probed.
Jaune shrugged, looking down at the bottle. It was empty, oddly enough. Jaune didn't remember finishing the bottle. Not before his brain was attacked from psychotic hallucinatoins.
Jaune looked at the empty ethanol bottle. "How very strange." the dreamer said.
What is it? A asked, his voice laced with concern. He had just seen his… friend? Creator? The persons whose head he resided in? Just have a whole damn acid trip and vomit on the ground.
"The last time I had a labled liquor like this, i didn't hallucinate like that." Jaune said. He let out a deep breath, still trying to recover his senses fully.
Man, jaune really hated the dream. So. Fucking. Much. Standing up with a sigh, Jaune tossed the bottle behind him. He heard it shatter with a crashing tinkling sound that one could associate with breaking glass. But it still sounded just a bit off.
Like everything else that was in the dream. Everything was just a bit off. Except for the things that were very, very, way out of the park, strange.
Jaune walked out of the building, still shaky on his legs. He felt… different. Less solid? He couldn't quite place his finger on it. But he most certainly felt different.
Eh, it's probably dream cancer. A shrugged, only kind of joking.
"Don't joke." jaune said as he checked his spear. "That might have actually given me brain cancer."
Or violent hallucinations! A said cheerily.
B squinted at his counterpart. I will never understand you. He mourned with a shake of his head.
You think I do either? Jaune thought back, looking back to the fields.
Come to think of it, those… hallucinations did show this place. Admittedly, it was on fire then, but still.
The pathway leading from the doors to this abandoned ghost farm town was unmistakable. And then there were those… dog things? Jaune groaned. All this thinking post terrible trip was making his brain hurt.
He was going to go back to that hospital to figure this out, wasn't he?
Ah, Fuck.
Another thing to add to the list.
And another chapter is done. Please leave a comment, as they provide motivation to continue writing this clusterfuck of a story. And as for all of the very, very confusing insinuations and other bullshit that this chapter explores, don't worry. They'll be answered. Eventually.
Chapter 14Chapter Text
Jaune wasn't sure what the list actually was fully composed of. He knew that getting to Haven was on it. So was understanding what was happening to him. He wondered if this exploration of the mystery behind his hallucination fell under the second item, or was it's own thing.
Probably falls under the second.
I can't help but feel that we are severely underplaying, or perhaps even ignoring, the fact we just had a whole ass hallucination less than ten minutes ago! B practically yelled at his counterparts.
Eh. Jaune shrugged, trudging on through the dusty mud, staying a good distance away from the fields of corn. It's only slightly more concerning than what's happening to me now. The dreamer responded with a forced non chalantness.
Jaune had gotten used to being way over his head. He had a lot of experience in the matter over the last couple of months. From being in Beacon with no experience in combat, to whatever the hell he was doing now.
What was he even doing now?
I mean, right now? You're going back to the eternal city to try and find something out about this place. A responded.
I ment all over. The whole stealing the family sword, hitching onto a flight to Beacon, going to Beacon. Getting expelled from Beacon. Going to Haven. Almost dying, and dying here. That whole thing.
A nodded. You know. That is a good question. It's not like there's a particular lack of huntsmen. And judging by Team RWBY, and team JNPR- well, NPR now, the worlds in good hands.
Jaune shrugged, internally wincing at the offhanded mention of his old team. Yeah, i guess the world would be fine. He admitted after a moment. They didn't really need him, after all. They were quick enough to get rid of him.
Hey, don't think like that! B reprimanded. Saph always said it wasn't good for you.
Jaune raised an eyebrow, but let it rest. Saffron always did say that thinking like that would get him nowhere. He supposed she was right. He wasn't thinking like that when he forged his way to Beacon.
He was thinking like that immediately after he hit the enter button.
Jaune gave a cautionary glance behind him. The corn fields rustled in the gentle wind, or if could be more of those unknown creatures. Jaune turned his head away, his jaw turning to steel as he tensed up at the thought. Jaune started to approach the doors of the medical ward at a rapid pace. The sooner he was out of enemy territory, the better.
Jaune pushed open the heavy wood doors, looking around the surprisingly well kept once battle ground. The body of the doctor had turned to ash, but the black ish blood still stained the floor. Jaune looked around the white tiled room, hoping to find where the mad doctor might have hid away his journals, or medical notes.
Jaune had found what he was looking for. Kind of. He had found the doctors journal, which was helpful for understanding what had happened. Perhaps it was the best overarching source as to life before whatever hellish collapse had happened.
According to the Doctor, Alcoholism was rampant throughout the world, and with it came "A curse from Phetocph, a plague upon our minds and souls.". It had started with a seemingly normal, if not rather infectious form of dysentery.
Already not good.
And then things… evolved, for a lack of a better word.
More like had gone to complete shit. A commented as Jaune turned an ancient page of a large leather bound tome. Jaune had, after finding and skimming through the journal, moved to one of the many libraries in the "Wizard's" wing of the keep. It was full of books and notes on this place's magic. It was actually a fascinating topic, the mathematics behind it.
If Jaune had paid more attention in his physics class, he might have been able to make heads or tails of the subject at hand.
But in a very simplified nutshell, words have power. And the power behind those words rewrite whatever mathematical equations govern… reality? Various aspects of chemistry? Reality is a more broad word. And the rewriting of these equations causes quantum particles to change and act fundamentally different.
Now, the actual work behind this, a some six hundred page book, was far beyond Jaune's understanding of math and numbers. Jaune looked at the first ten pages, and skipped to the summary.
But apparently phrases only have effect if the speaker intimately knows what the outcome is, or the meaning behind the phrase. Something Jaune was also unsure of, considering his healing spell, and frost bolt spell to a greater extent, he knew very little of or about.
We're getting off topic. B reminded Jaune. Jaune nodded.
"Right. Finding out more about this mutation dysentery." Jaune reoriented himself. He looked over his hand scribbled notes, a horrid amalgamation of the doctor's notes from the journal, various medical and other writings, and published personal works. The first several pages were written in actual ink that he had scavenged together. But when what little ink he had ran dry for his quill, he cut his arm to fill the well.
B looked over Jaune's shoulder, metaphorically. You know, it looks like this is straight out of a horror movie. He commented as Jaune crossed a T in blood. Jaune raised an eyebrow, looking down at his work. After a moment, he nodded in agreement.
"There is something about this whole thing that gives it that kind of dark academia vibe." he admitted as he read another page.
After the infestation takes hold in the international system, it starts to digest and dispose of the organs, causing for the victim to shit the organ slop out violently. This is the dysentery portion of the disease's lifespan.
Jaune closed his eyes, taking a break from the words. They were enough to cause him immense mental distress as it was.
The victim becomes delirious, unresponsive to cognitive stimulation (according to the Doctor's journal, and several other medical records discovered at library at Warden's Keep designated Library one. They apparently start to mutate and undergo painful physical changes after a couple of days. Normal medical cures, such as magic or medicines, are not effective.
The data, records, and personal accounts were honestly horrific. The description and detail in the doctor's book alone was… disturbing. What might have been even worse was the drawing from live patients and autopsies that were put in the journal. Jaune had painstakingly copied down those into his notes, ironically in his own blood.
Once the transformation period, about four days to a week, dependent on the size of the infected, the infected "drunkard" (I think they're the drunkards) becomes cannibalistic and desperate for alcohol (according to eyewitnesses of particular events where the infected would drink copious amounts with abandon).
But there was still what seemed to be a missing link to the puzzle.
Why hadn't the doctor been infected with this horrible disease? He had been exposed to this thing for at least months on end, perhaps years, searching frivolously for a cure that he would never discover.
Jaune knew what that doctor was wearing. Jaune knew that that mask would not, could not protect him from whatever disease this was. He had taken that mask apart to see what was inside that beak. (News flash, it was made out of herbs.) Particularly because of how fast this spread, considering that there was no other once human life in this place.
The dreamer leaned back in his chair, running his hands down his face, exhausted from all his reading. He looked at the desk he had accommodated. It was covered in papers, stack of stacks of books towered to his head.
"I wonder how long i've spent here." Jaune wondered, looking at his thick booklet of notes, mental dissections, theory crafting, and speculations. He paged through the dry writing, checking over his work.
It feels like we've been reading for a long time. B commented.
"And it still doesn't answer what happened to the farmlands." Jaune said, standing on legs, sore from sitting for so long.
Really? I mean, the town caught this disease, and things went to shit. A reasoned. Jaune considered it for a moment.
"You would think that, but it doesn't match the memory's narrative." Jaune said, remembering the scene.
The burning town in the background, backlighting the panicked farmers and common folk, running for sanctum. Those fleshy, shaggy, meat bound quadruped dog like things on their heels, catching and ripping into those unfortunate enough to be just too slow. Jaune shook the memory out of his head before it drew him deeper down that train of thought.
A bloodied and shocked dog faunus's face flashed through his mind. Jaune turned to the door.
Where are you going? A asked as Jaune strode out of the room.
"To blow off some steam." he responded coldly.
Jaune found himself in the training yard, dual sabers drawn at his sides. He gave them an experimental swing, testing how they felt.
Suitable. Jaune thought as he approached the dummy. He leveled his right sword, resting it on the dummy's shoulder. Jaune then slowly worked his way through a series of moves he had seen one of his classmates do in Goodwitches combat class once. He couldn't quite do all the flips that they pulled off in that fight.
Jaune stopped, ending the combo. He reset his position, and did it again, just at the full speed this time. He spun and slashed, the continus criss cross pattern flowed within itself. Jaune ended the combo with a spinning move.
Now, the huntswoman, huntsgirl? Huntswoman, ended the combo there and disengaged to attack from a different angle. Jaune took a different path, instead flipping the grip of his left saber, slamming it backwards under his arm. He felt it make contact, and threw his right saber over his shoulder to stab the dummy in the head. He lurched forward, throwing his entire body into his arms as he practically folded in on himself. The dummy, being impaled by the blades, went with them.
It slammed into the ground, bouncing and sliding along the ground harshly for a couple of feet. Jaune once he had recentered himself, he lunged forward with two thrusts into the dummy. The two embedded itself into the dummy's ribs. With a grunt, they ripped themselves out of the sides. Jaune reintroduced the twin scimitars to the dummy, furiously slashing away with reckless abandon into the dummy.
His arms burned once he finally stopped, gasping for breath.
I think it's dead, jaune. A said, looking down at completely destroyed dummy.
"I hate this place." jaune said finally, staring that the ravaged thing underneath him. He blinked, and it was replaced with Reed's body, the field stained in blood. He shook his head, removing the vision. His vision blurred.
He could feel his eyes welling up. "I hate this place so fucking much." He whimpered, his lower lip shaking, threatening to let the damn break.
B rested his hand on Jaune's shoulder. It's ok. You can break. He comforted him, knowing what he needed.
Jaune nodded, taking the permission, and let himself break down.
A watched his host fall to his knees, curling into a ball. A watched as jaune's ribs heaved and hitched with his sobs. A couldn't help but feel pity that Jaune lived to see such terrible days. But this was the life that he had chosen. This was a fact of this life.
Keep that up, and you'll end up sounding like me. B said, his joke tainted by soberness.
A remained silent, watching Jaune water the earth with his sorrow, crying an ugly river of tears for his failure.
None of them knew how long they were there for.
"I want a shield." Jaune said as he walked through the farmtown. He had collected some more relics from a bygone era. A dusty journal, the notes he had taken on a corpse, gnawed and gnarled on by something more physical than time, a collection of prayers and some other possibly useful knicknacks. Jaune had learned a couple of new spells during his research.
From the mad doctor's notes, he had discovered the secret behind both a more powerful healing spell and that flesh-rotting touch. While neither were as strong as the doctor could probably use, they were good spells.
From the libraries, he had discovered a small pyrokinesis spell, and a set of larger fire spells. In addition to that, a handful of more varied and random spells were collected. Minor telekinesis, locate an item, a kind of radar ping, those kinds of things.
And he had learned from the books of prayer how to throw spears of sunlight at his foes. Those were the most draining spells, however. He only had two or three of those he could use in a fight at a time.
B brought the conversation back round to the topic at hand. Why do you want a shield?
Jaune shrugged. It would be useful to have. He said simply. A knew what was up though.
You want to prevent ever having another Reed, don't you?
Jaune's face hardened upon hearing that. His silence was telling.
Alright then. B said, turning the thought train away from Reed. Hopefully. Let's go find AFDA.
The trek to AFDA was surprisingly annoying. The leeches had almost gotten Jaune twice, swarming him like massive, slimy locusts. Fortunately, they burned just about as well as everything else did.
As for the rest? Well, it was good practice for his new style. Eventually, covered in blood, spirit cured cuts, and two bottles lighter, jaune made it AFDA.
"Hello. I am AFDA, Automated Forge and Design Algorithm. How may I help you?" The orange screen put out.
Jaune typed out his response. "I need a shield."
"There are no shields in stock. Would you like to look at possible blueprints?"
"Yes."
A wide array of blueprints for various shields appeared on the screen. Jaune scrolled down, looking through the various files that were on hand.
Nothing all that appealing? B asked at Jaune's indifference. Jaune hummed as he looked at a 3d model of a trick shift shield. A standard heater into a bladed Katar thing.
"Yeah."
You could make your own. A commented.
Jaune considered it. His fingers met the keyboard once more. "Is there a way to make a custom weapon?"
Of course. AFDA responded. Would you like a tutorial
"Yes."
AFDA pulled up a prerecorded video describing how one started with making a weapon file for AFDA.
Jaune had endured a lot of infuriating things. Any coder worth their salt would tell you that coding was hell. And Jaune was an experienced coder and programmer, so he had his fair share of bullshit experiences.
But nothing, nothing compared to using AFDA's 3D modeling system. An eternity was spent designing, fussing, modeling, rendering and shitting himself at the program's fussiness. But he managed to do it. A sliding aperture round shield that could collapse into a buckler-like compact mode. It could then expand further out into a triangle like a heater shield.
Are you finally done? A asked, bored and exasperated at the eternity Jaune had spent.
"Yeah. I'm done." Jaune said. "All I have to do is print it out."
FINALLY! A exclaimed. Now get printing! I wanna see what it looks like!
Jaune hit the print button. The Machine clunked and whirred, and then stopped.
Jaune groaned, his head met the metal conveyor belt. "What's wrong now?" he groaned, and begrudgingly typed in the question.
This unit has run out of materials in stock. Please retrieve additional materials. AFDA's screen said. Jaune took a deep breath in, his face contorting in anger.
"FUCK!" he yelled out, his voice echoing throughout the sewers. "God damn it!" The dreamer paced angry for a moment, kicking the water and listing off a string of curses under his breath. Burning his steam, he slowed down and took a breath.
"Where can I find more material?" he asked AFDA.
You can purchase more Steel in the northern mountains of Krythhollen. There should be a leydoor in the northern province of the eternal city.
Jaune groaned. Another place he had to explore. Wait.
"What's a leydoor?" The dreamer asked out loud.
A and B shrugged. They knew just about as much as he did.
"You think it's like that door that we found in the lake?" B asked. It was a semi logical conclusion. That was the only type of conclusion you could make about this place after all.
Now, Jaune thought about something.
Did he want to get a shield, or explore the mysteries and horrors of the farm town? Jaune pulled out his map, looking down at the mage crafted paper.
"Huh, the farm place is called Grainsbarro." Jaune noted. He had been calling it Farm Town for a while now. He really should check his map more often, when he discovered a new place.
"You know what I think we should do?" B said.
"What, B?" Jaune asked.
"We should totally find a grave stone and go to sleep, and go back to the real world. We've been here a long time." B suggested. "We've been here so long that you've taken up carving in our down time here."
Jaune was inclined to agree. He had been here for what felt like a while, hadn't he? And while the amature carving he did was enjoyable, it did state something about just exactly how long he was here. he palmed a roughly carven wood coin in his hand, hewn from broken barrel planks. The duel crests of his former house on one side. The other was a simple scale based texture. Such a coin must have taken hours, perhaps days, to carve. And that was not including the time it took to develop that skills. Perhaps it would be best that he leave this place for a bit.
Jaune looked down at the oily dark sewer water. Jaune knew, or at least assumed, that it must be teeming with microbial life. Tiny swarms of existence in defiance to this barren lifeless place.
Or maybe the water mirrored this place's dead theme, and was as barren as the fields of Grainsbarro. Lifeless husks of existence.
Jaune vaguely tried to remember what corn and wheat looked like. He knew that they had a gold color, and could grow to surprising heights for a grass. But he couldn't picture it in his head. Not truely.
Jaune let out an almost defeated sigh. He was going to bring in a whole load of paint to this place, even if it was only to give the place some color.
Not that Jaune was a particularly good painter in his life. He had tried of course, but was always overshadowed by his sister, an actual artist. Or, at least she intended on being an artist.
Jaune wondered if she ever got that scholarship she was had applied to. He hoped she did. She always painted the prettiest vases, after all.
yes. he probably should go back. The shield could wait for another day, as could the mystery behind Grainsbarro
Jaune turned to find himself a gravestone to sleep at.
Jaune awoke in a ditch along the road. Standing up, he looked around at the clouded sky.
"I forgot how green the tree's are." jaune noted, taking a breath of dirty, green forest air damp with earth and the scent of coming rain. "I always forget, don't I?"
"We always forget, for that is the nature of dreams. To dream is to forget, in a sense." A gave a sagely nod.
Jaune twisted, popping his back. "I suppose you might be right." he said with a yawn, stretching out his sleep sore muscles. "I wonder what day it is?" he asked, looking up at the clouded sky.
"You think it will rain today?" B asked.
Jaune considered it. Looking up at the sky, he watched the clouds swirl and dance. They didn't in the Dream. At least, not like that.
"I hope so." The dreamer said. "I miss the rain." He couldn't quite remember what rain smelled like, and his recollection of the sound it made was hazy at best.
"It makes a pitter patter sound, right?" Jaune asked his compatriots. A shrugged.
"I dunno. You're asking one of the voices in your head, mate."
Juane sighed, turning to B. B made a frowning face, forcing his brain to recollect what rain sounded like. "I suppose it would. I mean, it guess it would sound similar to a shower, right?"
Jaune hummed in agreement, setting his sights down the road.
Arslan Altan, leader of team AMBR, looked out the window of a bullhead. The rain had started a
week ago, and showed no sign of letting up.
"Remind me why we're on this mission?" Nadir asked as he looked over his auto rifle, Old Reliable. It was a simple thing, being an AK-42 with a tactical laser and a shorter bayonet attached to its end.
Bolin rolled his eyes. "Yes, I wonder why we, a group of huntsmen, specifically trained to hunt and kill grimm, would be assigned to do?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
Nadir wilted under the cold gaze. "Sorry." he said sheepishly.
Arslan turned away from the window, giving Bolin an scolding glance. "Nadir brings up a good point." the Lioness said. "The dossier didn't actually state that we're hunting down grimm."
Rheese perked up at that, sitting up from her slunched position. "Oh? That's different. What's on the doc?"
Nadir spoke up at that question. "Apparently local hunters have seen a strange figure in the woods, and the Grimm population in the area has been dropping. They want us to check it out."
Nadir looked around at the surprised faces. "What?" he asked, confused. "Am I the only person that reads the dossiers?"
Arslan shook her head. "I'm just surprised that someone else on the team actually bothers to read the paperwork." She said as she returned to watching the rain fall. I wonder when it will end. The coca colored huntress pondered.
"May I have your attention please. May I have your attention please." The intercom spoke as the pilot, Marshall, spoke. "Will all the huntsmen here please stand up, please stand up."
"We will be landing shortly."
The team AMBR got out of their seats, grasping the panic handle bars to steady themselves on the descending aircraft. The side door slid open with a mechanical cranking sound. The soft and dented sound of rain on the metal bullhead became more pronounced as the walls preventing the soundwaves from fully reaching AMBR's ears were removed.
Arslan saw a semi-well dressed faunus briskly walk up to the bullhead, and an umbrella protecting him from most of the rain. Arslan walked to the edge and jumped down, her combat boots landing and sinking into the mud with a small splash. Arslan closed her eyes in exasperation. That was going to be annoying to wash out of her robes.
"Team AMBR, I presume?" The faunus man said.
Rheese nodded, sliding her hoverboard onto the muddied ground to avoid the slop.
"We are team AMBR." Arslan confirmed. "And you are?"
"Archibald Derothoga." The man said, giving a small bow. "Secondary magistrate to the townshend."
Arslan nodded, understanding his position as being essentially vice mayor. "Well, then, Mr. Derothoga, what appears to be the problem?"
I'm back! and with a surprisingly quick downtime! yay me!
So, Our first real insight into what the hell is going on in the Dream, and Jaune starts to cope with Reed's death. kind of.
Anyway! we get our first taste of some more characters! Thank god! You have no idea how difficult this has been to write just Jaune (even if he has A and B, which are figments of his imagination.) I feel that I've kind of failed to encapsulate how alone Jaune feels, but will endeavor to make that more clear in the coming chapters.
As always, please leave a comment on your thoughts about the story, and what you think might happen or other cool ideas that this word vomit of a google doc has given you. I enjoy reading them.
And as for the person who noted that I have Jaune cursing a lot, a major break from character: you are right, and I will endeavor to have him, as Jaune, curse less. While I do have a plan to explain a lot of things, that will have to wait for quite a bit later.
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TO BE CONTINUED