Mit Livs Eventyr [RWBY]

"How did the exam go, anyway?", you ask. "I mean, nobody really knows what happened to anyone else, just the stuff Ozpin said. And... I just had to let Pyrrha do everything, on my end. What was it like?"

"Hm? Oh. Egh." Sky grimaces down at his whip, noncommittally prodding a screwdriver in the vague direction of a screw. "I-I mean it wasn't that bad I guess but we took a while -mean that part you know we were last- so tempers got... fffffrayed."

You have no trouble believing that. Tension seems to make humans come over all irrational. You even had to be on the giving end, thanks to Jaune's troublesome tendencies. You make what you think is a sympathetic face in Sky's direction. He seems receptive. Progress! Speaking of progress, you hurriedly fiddle with your banner for some kind of catch or latch or bolt to take it apart. Jaune at least gets you as far as unhooking the cloth part.

"Ozpin wasn't wrong though," Sky admits. "Cardin did whip us into something that kinda-sorta worked. He comes from a real Huntsman family with all the training and trimmings and shit, plus he's got a good Semblance for it, so he took point. Taube's kinda... 'there' more or less, but he can do weather-manipulation type things with his sword so he mostly stayed somewhere safe hocking blade-beams at anything scary. I got my whip around anything I could and shocked it a bunch while he and Cardin beat the piss out of it. And Russell ran interference with his clones so nothing much would run up and kick me in the dick." He shrugs. "I mean that was the basic bread-and-butter thing."

"So what happened to your leg?" you ask.

"Oh!" He glances down, holding the leg in question out at an angle, as if to interrogate it. Flexing and turning it this way and that. "Oh yeah. Mean it was just a flesh wound really, Urdr cleared it right up with my arm. But what happened was a pack of possessed wolves showed up and- was probably my fault for not scouting right but long story short one got me hard on the leg and Cardin had to wade in. Practically killed the whole pack single-handed, it was kinda terrifying but really cool too."
You think back to your own encounters with half-possessed predators. To think they would attack a party of four but flee from you and Pyrrha alone. Some might say that's blind luck. You know well enough that the Grimm-tainted were just being smart. You decide to redirect the conversation just to be safe.

"Why were you doing the scouting?" You keep at least one eye on your work as you talk, not entirely sure how far you're supposed to take this before Regin will be satisfied you've 'disassembled' your weapon. You crack open the collapsible haft and almost start, the smell of Dust abruptly sharpening. Ah, it looks like there's a central support rod laced with mineral-form Dust to help channel the power. It's not just the banner working alone.

That thought immediately brings to mind a few of Jaune's, a mental image of a richly-embroidered white and gold cloak that billows out behind him dramatically, both enhancing his powers and striking a dashing silhouette as he strides into battle. You frown and give him a mental kick back down into the well. You've had enough distractions from him.

"I mean, you said Russell has clones and all" you quickly add, smoothing over the awkward pause just before Sky can reply.

"Oh, right. Right! I dunno why, but for some reason I just assumed everyone would've blabbed to everybody about everybody's Semblances already," Sky replies with a slightly sheepish tone. He pauses briefly, gaze flicking over to Regin's overly-muscular back. You follow - the forgemaster is still busy, this time nodding in taciturn approval of Blake's work, but he's definitely making his way over to your end of the class. Your gaze meets Sky's once more. He lowers his voice another hair just to be safe. "I can summon Grimm."

You remain silent for a moment. You wonder what this is supposed to be. Ironic? You think this is some form of irony but when you try to check in with the detective and Jaune they're absolutely no help to you. Instead you stick with the instinctive Jaune-y reaction of leaning closer and hissing "Really?" in a partially shocked and partially awed tone. The Groom has the right of it - a little flattery and Sky is practically preening.

"Yeah. I mean not just any Grimm whenever I feel like it." One more cursory glance at Regin, then back to you. "I need the mask, see? Something about it focuses my Semblance, so if I have an intact mask I can touch it and kind of purify it? When the rest of the body grows in it's all silver and blue and stuff, so everyone knows it's a friendly. The first one I ever did was this possessed locust-thing -used to be part of a swarm that was bringing famine until a Huntsman team came through, long story- and part of my parents getting me ready to come to Beacon was buying genuine Grimm masks from Huntsmen and freelancers and having them delivered so I could try my Semblance out on bigger stuff so I've got a proper wolf one too but basically I kept the first one I ever did and when I send it out and concentrate really hard I can dimly see what it sees kinda like I'm just barely opening my eyes so..."

Sky takes a break from his run-on sentence and takes a deep breath.

"... yeah," he finishes lamely. "It's called Masque Macabre."

"Cool!" you say, lacking anything more insightful to say that wouldn't also make him scream in terror. "It was pretty easy for m-" you sense Regin straighten up out of the corner of your eye and rapidly trail off "(-e'causepyrrhadideverything)", whipping your upper body around to hunch over your workbench like you were fiddling away in silence the entire time like a good student.

Regin's shadow falls over you, his every footfall almost deafening in the silent, echoing hall. He stops between your bench and Sky's, looming over yours specifically. You snatch your hands away from the deconstructed banner and hold them stiff at your sides. His discerning eye sweeps over your handiwork, and in the intervening moments Jaune feels a stab of panic that Regin will invalidate your work as 'cheating' for having such a simple weapon and make you do it all over again.

"Good. Now reassemble it."

He turns and looks at Sky's work.

"Reassemble it and start over."

Sky makes a noise like the forgemaster just trod on something sensitive. Regin ignores his protests, moving straight on down the rows of workbenches. This time he doesn't go straight to another student, instead keeping his eyeline level as he addresses all of you as one.

"Can anyone tell me why we even bother with trick weapons?" he asks. Almost the moment he's done speaking he raises his hand and points one callused finger at Pyrrha and her raised hand without turning his head. "Nikos."

"It allows a breadth and depth of tactical options that we as Hunters have the time and will to explore fully," she answers quickly and confidently.

"Wrong."

"And it confuses the Grimm when we transform them."

"Better."

Regin reaches the end of the row, scooping up Taube's sword as he passes. He hefts the blade in his hand a moment, testing the balance and weight - and whether it'll fly to pieces when he swings it. He shifts into a guard position with a smooth grace that belies his musclebound frame, and with a terrifyingly quick flick of the wrist transforms the weapon. The grip does a complete revolution in his hand, the blade itself splitting in half and folding back. If the detective didn't know what a 'butterfly knife' was you'd have no frame of reference. Regin thrusts his sword-hand forward, his left pressed flat to his pectoral for stability, and sights down the top edge of the weapon. It looks more like a long-barrelled pistol with blades affixed to the top and bottom than a sword now.

"Grimm are slow," he says. "Set in their ways. The dangerous ones, they're not animals. Not really. But they don't think like us either. They're obsessive, single-minded, slow to adapt if they can at all. A trick weapon confuses them. Gives you an opening."

Another flick of his wrist, as if hurling Taube's weapon away to the side. The metal ratchets, catches, snaps back into place. The blade cuts and keens at the air, whole once more. If it weren't for the trigger by the hilt you'd forget the gun was even there.

"If we only killed people, a sword's more than enough." Regin carefully plants the weapon back down on Taube's workbench with an audible thunk. "Good work," he adds.

The chatter dies down as everyone focuses on their work (albeit you overhear Sky muttering about 'the maintenance manual'). Taube looks over at Russell's bench, seemingly torn between going to offer help or staying put, until Regin takes that choice away from him by hunching over the faunus' desk like a bearded tidal wave frozen in motion. He and Russell exchange muttered words too low to hear as the latter fiddles with his brand new weapon - looks like a pair of short swords, this time with the scent of Dust. Pyrrha grabs his attention briefly with a businesslike "Sir?" and raises her de-and-re-constructed weapon. Regin gives her a curt nod and returns to whatever it is he's doing with Russell. Pyrrha rises and strides briskly back to the deposit of cases to retrieve hers for the next class- oh, right, you should really be finishing up too, if Pyrrha nabs Ren on the way out of class then you can grab Nora.

Putting it back together is a lot easier than taking it apart. You just do everything you did but in reverse. It's easier than it sounds when you technically have three minds -or at least two and some change- to remember the first go. Ruby, Blake, Weiss and Cardin are long gone by the time you get Regin to okay your work, but Nora and Ren are still safely working away at their weapons. You find Pyrrha waiting in the corridor outside, leaning against the wall beside the doorway, arms folded. She acknowledges you with a slight tilt of her head. You take up a similar position and wait there in silence, even as a few other trainees wander through.

Ren and Nora blow past you without even noticing, joined at the hip as ever. You and Pyrrha mutter "(dammit)" and follow, defeated.

The day wears on, and the sun's almost directly overhead by the time you make it to the next class. The midday light reduces everyone's shadows to simple black blobs underfoot, which makes it all the easier to disguise your own false one. This time you're meeting at the western cliffside courtyard where you met Ozpin and Gotthard yesterday, watched over proudly by the statue of The Unknown Hunter (you read the plaque on the way over) and the Forever Fall oak (ditto). Jaeger stands where Ozpin once stood, hands clasped behind his back, looking out across the vast swathes of densely-forested valley that stand between Beacon and the distant, hazy silhouette of Vale. A sealed, wide-necked urn sits next to him, marked in indigo.

"Hm," he says. "I thought I'd be waiting for some of you longer. Warm up, everyone. You'll need it."

It seems all the early-arrivals already got the memo, scattered around the space doing stretches or otherwise making ready for whatever it is Jaeger has in store, weapons in hand or safely sheathed. Pyrrha slips right into it as easily as breathing, and you find yourself more or less just trying to copy her. You don't have to wait long. Sky and Russell hurry in soon after, heads bowed and legs pumping as they descend the stairs. Jaeger turns as if prompted by some unseen assistant, resting one scarred hand on the urn as he surveys the class.

"Good day. My name is Professor Jaeger, and I will be training you to be Huntsmen," he says. "Academic learning, the knowledge to brew and bottle Dust, an intimate understanding of your weapon and Semblance, these are all invaluable skills I cannot deny. But in fundamental terms, a Huntsman must be capable of doing three things above all else."

He drums his finger on the lid. "Fight." He drums his second finger. "Kill." He drums his third. "Survive." He drags his hand across and away from the urn with the soft rasp of skin on ceramic. "It may not be very glamorous or 'heroic', but each of you got a taste of just how crucial wilderness survival techniques are yesterday. What if you were to be caught out in the forest without us as a safety net? What if you could not guide yourself by the sun and stars, or forage enough to feed yourself and your team? You would die, ignobly, and be easy carrion for any passing Grimm."

You wish he wouldn't talk about rotting carrion. It's making you really hungry.

"But, you will be pleased to know, I was politely requested not to throw you straight back into the wilderness so soon after your entrance exams. Therefore, we will be focusing on other areas today." Jaeger thoughtfully plucks at one corner of his voluminous moustache as he scans each of you in turn, silently evaluating you. "Line up, all of you, where you can see properly."

He lifts the lid on the urn and you nearly salivate at the sudden, exotic scent of Dust. "You will be sparring today. One-on-one, each of you with every other student, until everyone has fought everyone. Submerge your weapons in this urn, take your marks, and await my call to commence the match." He pauses briefly, glancing down at the vessel beside him. "Stasis Dust. Professor Kay's own design. It blunts blades, softens bludgeons, envelops projectiles - in short, you will not be killing each other without my say-so, and for any lesser injuries Professors Urdr, Verthandr and Skuld are on-call. Now - do we have volunteers?"

Ruby raises her hand.

"Ah, that eager?"

"O-oh." Ruby drops her hand again, glancing around furtively. "Oh no I didn't mean- I mean I can do the first match if you want I just wanted to, um, ask... (nevermind)."

Pyrrha raises her hand. Jaeger moves on, completely ignoring Ruby.

"Volunteering? Or another question?"

"Volunteering."

"Good girl." Jaeger scans the crowd once more. "Any takers for Miss Nikos?"

A half-second of golden silence. Not long enough to force Jaeger to repeat himself, force the issue. Just long enough to notice. No matter how eager to prove themselves the others may be, there's still no surplus of people so eager to fight Pyrrha that they'd leap at the chance. All at once two voices speak up, overlapping.

"I'll do it!"

"I'll- (shit)."

Yang grimaces and takes a step back, shaking her head at her sluggishness on the draw. Ruby pats her back sympathetically, murmuring something about how she'll get to punch everyone in class in due time if the detective's lipreading is anything to go by. Which leaves... Cardin. Striding forward mace in hand, refusing to look Pyrrha's way.

"Winchester. Good man." Jaeger steps away from the urn and indicates the paved courtyard below them. "Your marks are the first ring of white stones each side of the dividing line. The first to fall is the loser. Any questions?"

They shake their heads in unison. Jaeger indicates the urn one last time and they stride forward, Pyrrha quickening her pace just a hair to reach it before Cardin. He drops back with a slight scowl, but waits patiently for her to dip her sword in the urn. The bronze blade rises amid trails of royal purple Dust that glitter even in the noonday sun. She steps away, and Cardin likewise submerges his mace.

They take their marks, Cardin tense and still as a stone statue, Pyrrha loose and limber, rocking almost playfully from foot to foot. Blue and green eyes locked tightly in the silence before the bout. Jaeger takes his time striding to his own vantage point, letting them sweat it out and psyche them up.

"Begin-!"

Pyrrha moves. One step, two, three. You can follow her but only just, only because you had enough time watching her slaughter Grimm in the forest to grow accustomed to how she moves. In the blink of an eye she's crossed the space between her and Cardin and she leaps, sword hissing down like a snake fang to strike him in the crook of the neck.

Whump-BOOM. An explosion deflects her strike, deflects her, forces her to dig in her heels and skid to a stop for fear of overbalancing. She pauses a moment, half-crouched, shield raised, to study the cause.

When the smoke clears Cardin is clad in armour. A suit of burnt umber plates and red ochre tree roots forged in an instant, covering him from neck to toe. Pyrrha's strike detonated his left pauldron like a bomb, but before your eyes it simply reforges itself out of pulsing amber power. Cardin allows himself a small, triumphant smirk.

Pyrrha immediately rushes him again. He looks vaguely offended she didn't even let him have that.

He sweeps his mace toward her with strength fit to launch her clean off her feet. She ducks low, darts left, swoops around and strikes like lightning for under his arm. Once more his armour protects him, detonating a plate with a blinding orange flash. He follows up with an armoured elbow, ringing off her hastily-raised shield with a sharp clang. Pyrrha skips back a few steps, away from any further reprisal, and considers her options. Cardin lets her, simply striding forward, even shoulders his mace. Confident in his impenetrable, self-healing armour.

Even you know that's a mistake.

She transforms her blade and throws it with perfect, graceful form. The spear hisses through the air as it strikes Cardin square in the chest, rebounding from the blast, spinning away uselessly. Cardin keeps coming, leaning down to strike his mace on the stones. It comes alive in a hundred keening, crackling bolts of electricity.

Pyrrha recalls her spear, impossibly, to her hand once more.

"What-?"

Another throw, just as perfect as the first. Cardin raises his free hand, shielding his unprotected face with his gauntlet, but the spear isn't headed there at all. It strikes him on the breastplate again, is deflected again. Spinning wildly away through the air before it simply stops, reverses, sketching impossible right-angles as it returns to her hand. She throws again, at the same spot. Cardin snarls, ignoring the blow once more as he extends his mace like a wand. The blast of his still-reforming breastplate detonating is matched by the thunderclap of his weapon, the sound of the lighting bolt striking Pyrrha's upraised shield.

The outpouring of power ceases, and Cardin curses. His mace ejects a steaming Dust cartridge, the hollow metal ringing and clattering on the stones. He instinctively goes to reload it. Giving Pyrrha all the time she needs to recall her spear a third and final time. She throws one last time with a shout of effort, and strikes him true through the ragged gap in his armour that remained unhealed. He's not launched off his feet so much as toppled like a tree, coming crashing down to earth with a shout of pain. His armour scatters into a flurry of autumnal leaves. The Stasis Dust saved his life, but boy does it look like it hurt.

"Nikos wins!" Jaeger announces. "Trainees, clear the field. Winchester, take a breather. Two new combatants, we have a lot of bouts to do and precious little time!"

"I'llgonext!" Sky exclaims on impulse, only to immediately regret his words before they're even done leaving his mouth.

"Cool, I'll get one of mine out of the way," Nora says with a shrug, shouldering her warhammer as she strolls onto the sparring field. Sky looks slightly bemused, even a little hopeful, perhaps nurturing the faint possibility that if she spaces out enough he can steal at least one win.

The two dunk their weapons and take their marks. Once more their stances couldn't be more different. Sky looks like he's trying to copy Pyrrha's loose energy, but he's closer to bouncing from foot to foot like a nervous jackrabbit, already beginning to sweat. Conversely Nora has her warhammer propped head-down on the ground, casually leaning on it with her free hand on her hip. Jaeger looks at her askance, long enough to know she's made eye contact and is actually aware the duel is about to start. With a subtle, helpless shrug, he just turns away to mediate.

"Begin!"

Sky moves - his nervous energy was good for one thing, it let him start right on the mark. His whip uncoils all at once, a gleaming sinuous length of filaments that snaps and snakes through the air, so quick it's difficult to follow. Whether by practice or sheer dumb luck it wraps around Nora's hammer-wielding bicep and sticks fast.

"Hah!" Sky exclaims in triumph and disbelief, and stabs the switch with his thumb. The whip comes alive like a serpentine lightning bolt, hissing and crackling as it channels every last drop of its power right into Nora's arm. She screams, shuddering, shaking, unable to even fight back as the electricity forces her arm to do no more than twitch helplessly. She sinks to one knee, pawing at her shoulder with her free hand, her other leg shivering dangerously, her movements increasingly panicked and desperate. Sky seems slightly perturbed, glancing quickly at Jaeger, but the professor doesn't call an end to the bout. It's when she hits the floor, and she still has one foot-

Nora snorts. "Okay not really but wouldn't that be fucked up though?"

"Wha-?"

Nora twists and thrusts her free hand forward, palm upturned, fingers splayed. The torturous electrical charge that once seemed to be causing her so much unbelievable agony instead flows down her arm, arcs between her fingertips, and shoots across the duelling ground with a deafening thunderclap. Sky gets half a scream in before the lighting bolt picks him up like an invisible hand and bodily flings him some twenty feet. He lands, of course, flat on his back and lightly charred.

Nora rises to her full height and twiddles her smoking fingers. "(Thundergod~)" she whispers, and blows them out.

"Arvensis?" Jaeger calls.

"(mhm?)"

"Do you feel your need to go to the nurse's office?"

"(mhm)"

"Alright." He gesticulates at the gathered crowd. "One of you go bring him there, we'll take a few more bouts while they take a look at him. Any other volunteers?"

Your chance comes as suddenly as the bolt of lightning that ended Nora's match. Just as she's still returning to the crowd, idly twirling her hammer and doing a little victory dance, Ren steps forward and volunteers to be the next fighter. You think it's Blake that takes his challenge, but that's not what's important right now. What's important is that you finally have a chance to bother her on her own and you're not about to let anything distract you from that. You rapidly sidle your way through the throng to her side and rack your brain for a conversation-starter.

"So I'm your team captain," you blurt out.

"That's nice," she says.

Okay not stellar but you have some time. Ren and Blake aren't even at the urn yet. You wet your lips, furrow your brow and try again. Aha, that's it. You always see her talking at Ren incessantly, so she obviously likes doing most of the talking. Maybe if you ask her about something she cares about she won't even need you to contribute much?

[ ] Ask her about Ren. For obvious reasons.
[ ] Ask her how she's liking Beacon so far. You have little-to-no frame of reference so this helps you as much as it helps... you.
[ ] Ask her about her weapon and power. It's an interesting combo, and her dossier was fairly light on hard details. And hey, it might help you operate Jaune's.
[ ] Ask her about her plans for the weekend. You have none so you're pretty sure you can just "me too" whatever she says.