Hold It In (RWBY/Transistor)
- Thread starter Prok
- Start date
- Crossover
Spectral Waltz
Scatterbrained Writer
- Location
- Walking the Endless Corridors
Fuck yeah, reasonable Oz.
infinityDivided
Prince Of Doom
- Location
- USA
Technically it was Qrow who said we should tell our teammates later, and the way Oz reacted to that comment (wincing) implied he'd fucked up in that regard in the past. Might be STRQ, might not.
Spectral Waltz
Scatterbrained Writer
- Location
- Walking the Endless Corridors
Oz still okayed it though, it's a hell of a step up from how gunshy he is about sharing information in most depictions.
infinityDivided
Prince Of Doom
- Location
- USA
To be fair, if an ordinary Huntsman had a stress-induced breakdown, it'd be bad but hardly the end of the world. Jaune, on the other hand, is currently acting as the Sysadmin and morality pet of an inhuman God. If he breaks down, there's a small but real chance the Process could do something... ill-advised. Even if it doesn't do anything destructive, it could do something that might catch Salem's eye.
I'm not saying that IS why Oz is so willing to let us share the info with our team, but it's a real possibility.
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ADeshantis
King on the Chromium Throne
- Location
- United states
The real chess master never does anything for just one reason.
Not all those reasons need to be brutal, cold, or logical either.
Not all those reasons need to be brutal, cold, or logical either.
Akasha
The Only Truth
- Location
- 「̛̛́́ ͏̨҉̕͏ ͏̶̴」
If we get enough attitude increases, do we get to advance to font size 12?
Magic has been lost with the disappearance of the Brothers.
- Location
- Sweden
On another note, I would like to offer my complements to you, Prok. This quest, from the start to the end of the first arc, truly felt like it captured the soul, the magic that RWBY had in it's first seasons. The quest has had wonderful interactions with lovable characters, adrenaline and awe-inducing combat scenes in addition to interesting adventures, giving me a similar feeling to how it was like when I watched the first seasons of what used to be my favorite show. Not to mention that you also at times captured the beautiful, sombre feeling of Transistor, (in particular Confession(),) with good music choices bringing the text to life.
I can say without the shadow of a doubt that this quest is my all time favorite, and I thank you dearly for making it Prok. There just aren't that many writers that are so proficient at sucking me in, immersing me into the life of its protagonist, and I never tire of your writing Prok. Regardless of how long an update takes, you will always have an eager and thankful reader in me.
I can say without the shadow of a doubt that this quest is my all time favorite, and I thank you dearly for making it Prok. There just aren't that many writers that are so proficient at sucking me in, immersing me into the life of its protagonist, and I never tire of your writing Prok. Regardless of how long an update takes, you will always have an eager and thankful reader in me.
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SaltyWaffles
I am dissapoint, son
- Pronouns
- He/Him
...I literally can not find any parallels between the two stories.
During the second to last scene, Ozpin shows Jaune a memory/simulation of how things could be, Jaune acts in the memory by taking the place of another person, then Ozpin explains the meaning of the memory. This is the exact sequence of events used to train The Keeper of Memories by The Giver in the book The Giver.
Only reason I can't say the same is because this quest Crossover Devourer of Worlds - A Lavos Spawn Quest | (Chrono Trigger x RWBY Crossover) (AU Elements) exists. Both are amazing, both are ironically RWBY quests, and I can't choose just one. Amazing worldbuilding and characters in both, just soooooo good. Both quests are also proof that RWBY is a great foundation to build off of, as long as you ignore the stupid shit that pops up later.
Sorry, just had to gush. I was trying to think if anything that could compare to this quest and when I realized how I couldn't decide my favorite between the two I had to share. In regards to just this quest, I thought it was really cool how Prok managed to make the questions we wanted to ask flow naturally.
- Location
- Earth
I was thinking about it, and Jaune's Arcane: 0 stat might be more accurate if it was at Arcane: 1. I'll explain my line of thought below. To be clear, Prok knows Jaune and the system well, and I'm not trying to say there's necessarily anything missing or even absent at all with the current representation.
What might justify Jaune having an Arcane: 1 score is his combat use of his Calculation Semblance. While most of what Jaune has learned and/or uses his semblance for falls under Hack-Slash, Learning, or Training, there's one aspect that could fall under Arcane.
Jaune has an extra-sensory awareness of his surroundings from Calculation that's useful/used in combat (with the super-sense partially muted by the Transistor to prevent data overflow). This corresponds with examples of skills/abilities that qualify as 'Arcane', specifically "achieving minor prescience, using your Semblance weirdly".
Side note, should coding be listed under Training along with 'Gunmanship, Swordsmanship, Athletics, Singing'? Since Training is specified to include "skills like carpentry, coding" and Jaune's a professional at coding?
What might justify Jaune having an Arcane: 1 score is his combat use of his Calculation Semblance. While most of what Jaune has learned and/or uses his semblance for falls under Hack-Slash, Learning, or Training, there's one aspect that could fall under Arcane.
Jaune has an extra-sensory awareness of his surroundings from Calculation that's useful/used in combat (with the super-sense partially muted by the Transistor to prevent data overflow). This corresponds with examples of skills/abilities that qualify as 'Arcane', specifically "achieving minor prescience, using your Semblance weirdly".
Side note, should coding be listed under Training along with 'Gunmanship, Swordsmanship, Athletics, Singing'? Since Training is specified to include "skills like carpentry, coding" and Jaune's a professional at coding?
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PsyFarrow
Verified Necrodancer
- Location
- Space
Wouldn't Arcane:Anything imply we can actually do any magic as opposed to having had it used on us?
Interlude: A Celebration
Prok
Go play Star Fetchers
- Location
- Scotland
I'll be honest I wanted to have all three of these done to just slam you in the face with one after the other but animation has been kicking my ass and I really need the upper of fake internet points before I nail my feet to the wall instead of opening Adobe Animate again so have what was supposed to be the second interlude technically on time weeheeheeheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
2 am.
The room is truly dark now, lit only by dim green lights along the walls and a setting moon. The incongruously gentle tick of the massive gears driving Beacon's clock tower gently thrums in perfect rhythm, as relaxing to Ozpin as the sound of waves. Jaune has long since left, and Qrow stumbled away a few minutes ago, leaving him to his celebrations. With one final tip back, the bottle of whisky he'd kept in his desk only for special celebrations is finally empty- a feat that took about 30 years. The ice cubes clink gently to the bottom of the glass as he puts it down again, minus the one he kept to chew on, savouring the way he can just breathe again.
That's not just the whisky, though. For not the first time since he'd started drinking, he begins to chuckle listlessly to himself, letting utter joy bubble up to the surface, like a pot boiling over.
Today… Brothers, today was just… astonishing.
He couldn't begin to describe how he felt about the young man he'd first talked to not six hours ago- just what Jaune did and how it balanced a scale he didn't even realise had existed.
The Process. Gods, the Process.
He has to shake his head, thinking about it. The boy creates a small god, and his first instinct is to protect it and teach it how to care about people. Not for the first time tonight, Ozpin found himself expecting his alarm to go off and wake up from the nicest dream he's had in a long time- and not for the first time, he's wrong.
He's never been happier to be wrong.
Leaning back, his chair slowly tilting until he's just about staring at the ceiling, Ozpin closes his eyes and turns his thoughts to less hopeful matters.
The ice cube crunches between his teeth.
Boriah Lee is targeting one of his students. He has little doubt he could turn the man into a thin red smear if he so desired, but that would require him to actually find the man first- a master of disguise and escape, who had evaded Huntsmen and Huntresses far younger and better-trained in the capture of people exactly like Lee- and even if he did, he doubted that he could do it without, at best, enabling a few deaths in the process, at worst, destroying a large chunk of whatever city district he finds him in.
Some part of his mind that still fashions itself a noble warrior demands he leave Beacon, travel south to find him and take care of him there. Every second he spends not doing so is a failure of noblesse oblige, it says- every drop of blood the madman spills, is spilt directly onto his hands.
Ozpin discards the thought as drunken whimsy. Leaving for even a week would be two weeks longer than he'd be comfortable leaving Beacon's secrets unguarded. The Vault may be dormant, closed to all but the Fall Maiden, but the CCTS tower is right there, and he was under no illusion that it was a target.
He should check on Amber, actually. He hadn't heard from her in a while, and he did enjoy her… forthright views on some subjects. Last he'd heard, she was out in the boonies, helping a coastal village back on its feet after…
Hm. He couldn't remember what happened to it. Perhaps it was good that he'd just run out of booze.
Then there was the matter of Ludens.
Even thinking about it now puts a dull ache through his heart- grief for someone he never really met. A small hiccup escapes him, not entirely the fault of the alcohol, then a sniffle.
Ah…
… It's too quiet in here, Ozpin decides. Some music wouldn't go amiss, at least- it's hardly like he's in danger of disturbing anyone, after all. One of the many perks of having an office almost a kilometre off the ground. Getting to his feet, only swaying slightly, he walks to one of the small chests of drawers lining the wall, and gently unfolds part of it, transforming it into a record table. Reaching into one of the drawers, he pulled out the record player in question, setting it on the table and plugging it in. Opening another drawer, and-
"Oh, dammit Glynda, why must you insist on trying to organise everything-"
Alright, time to hunt down his record of choice for the night.
Moving around like this helps stimulate his mind, jostling his pickled brain until a few thought-bubbles rise to the top, making themselves known.
… If he could pull it off…
"Are you still there?" Ozpin asks, moving around the room for a moment, looking through various drawers to see if any of his records had survived his beautiful assistant's purge. "I believe you are- after all, I'm not much of a believer in ghost stories, but I can't help but feel a certain presence over my shoulder at the moment."
Perhaps in the upper gallery?
With a quick Aura-boosted hop, the thirty feet to the upper level of his office is covered without so much as an unnecessary inch of clearance, landing with almost feline grace for a man his age and his level of intoxication.
"If you are there, I would like to ask a favour of you."
Ozpin moves into the rows of shelves and cabinets, towards the last place he remembered his records being kept, past various encyclopedias and legal records; things he keeps meaning to get digitised for the sake of the poor floor up here, creaking under the weight of I so much wood and paper.
"Jaune… showed me the remains of something today. An entity the Transistor called Ludens."
Finally reaching his record collection and flicking on a small lamp, he begins to flip through them all; Animan Kreyol, border-Valish modal jazz, eastern Vacuoni rock- even some downright ancient Mantal bootlegs- recordings of bands banned in Mantle (a list so exhaustive that it would be easier to list all of the ones not banned under that regime) pressed into X-ray film scavenged from hospitals. Cheap, and of terrible quality, but still, music.
Even now, he daren't play them, just in case their age finally catches up to them.
Hmph. There's a metaphor in there somewhere, figuring it out is for more sober minds than his. Still- he has his memories of the live shows, and that is enough for him.
"I… would like to give him a second chance. When I saw what was left of him, I had this, bone-deep sense… that I could do just that. Give him, life, again."
And… there you are.
Ozpin pulls out a single album, one he's played many times- the cover so full of orange and yellow that it almost warms his face just to look at it, a young boy in a red scarf and bandages dominating the rest of the cover.
"Don't misunderstand me- I may speak out of a sense of empathy, but I know better than to play to yours."
He stands up, taking the album under one arm as he dodges through the stacks of books and files, backtracking for a moment as a thought takes him, and pulling an old, dusty file from a cabinet, before hopping over the balcony and landing with almost sober grace.
"No, I speak to your curiosity. I know people like you, and the Transistor- so much curiosity, so, pathologically unable to leave the big red button alone- that's why it tried to prod me in the soul, no?"
Pulling the album from its cover, he walks over to the record player and gently places it down, pulling the needle up and judging where he needs to drop it.
"So… do you want to try and achieve the impossible?"
Ozpin waits a moment, listening for the quiet fizzle of the Process creating matter from nothing.
The needle drops. A single guitar begins to play, the song almost stewing in its own anger. A song of unsympathetic gods, and the folly of relying on them.
What could he say? He sympathises with it.
He turns, seeing a single, palm-sized cube on his desk, a single red eye silently staring at him, and he can't stop himself from smiling.
"Very well," he says, rolling his sleeves up.
"Let's get to work."
2 am.
The room is truly dark now, lit only by dim green lights along the walls and a setting moon. The incongruously gentle tick of the massive gears driving Beacon's clock tower gently thrums in perfect rhythm, as relaxing to Ozpin as the sound of waves. Jaune has long since left, and Qrow stumbled away a few minutes ago, leaving him to his celebrations. With one final tip back, the bottle of whisky he'd kept in his desk only for special celebrations is finally empty- a feat that took about 30 years. The ice cubes clink gently to the bottom of the glass as he puts it down again, minus the one he kept to chew on, savouring the way he can just breathe again.
That's not just the whisky, though. For not the first time since he'd started drinking, he begins to chuckle listlessly to himself, letting utter joy bubble up to the surface, like a pot boiling over.
Today… Brothers, today was just… astonishing.
He couldn't begin to describe how he felt about the young man he'd first talked to not six hours ago- just what Jaune did and how it balanced a scale he didn't even realise had existed.
The Process. Gods, the Process.
He has to shake his head, thinking about it. The boy creates a small god, and his first instinct is to protect it and teach it how to care about people. Not for the first time tonight, Ozpin found himself expecting his alarm to go off and wake up from the nicest dream he's had in a long time- and not for the first time, he's wrong.
He's never been happier to be wrong.
Leaning back, his chair slowly tilting until he's just about staring at the ceiling, Ozpin closes his eyes and turns his thoughts to less hopeful matters.
The ice cube crunches between his teeth.
Boriah Lee is targeting one of his students. He has little doubt he could turn the man into a thin red smear if he so desired, but that would require him to actually find the man first- a master of disguise and escape, who had evaded Huntsmen and Huntresses far younger and better-trained in the capture of people exactly like Lee- and even if he did, he doubted that he could do it without, at best, enabling a few deaths in the process, at worst, destroying a large chunk of whatever city district he finds him in.
Some part of his mind that still fashions itself a noble warrior demands he leave Beacon, travel south to find him and take care of him there. Every second he spends not doing so is a failure of noblesse oblige, it says- every drop of blood the madman spills, is spilt directly onto his hands.
Ozpin discards the thought as drunken whimsy. Leaving for even a week would be two weeks longer than he'd be comfortable leaving Beacon's secrets unguarded. The Vault may be dormant, closed to all but the Fall Maiden, but the CCTS tower is right there, and he was under no illusion that it was a target.
He should check on Amber, actually. He hadn't heard from her in a while, and he did enjoy her… forthright views on some subjects. Last he'd heard, she was out in the boonies, helping a coastal village back on its feet after…
Hm. He couldn't remember what happened to it. Perhaps it was good that he'd just run out of booze.
Then there was the matter of Ludens.
Even thinking about it now puts a dull ache through his heart- grief for someone he never really met. A small hiccup escapes him, not entirely the fault of the alcohol, then a sniffle.
Ah…
… It's too quiet in here, Ozpin decides. Some music wouldn't go amiss, at least- it's hardly like he's in danger of disturbing anyone, after all. One of the many perks of having an office almost a kilometre off the ground. Getting to his feet, only swaying slightly, he walks to one of the small chests of drawers lining the wall, and gently unfolds part of it, transforming it into a record table. Reaching into one of the drawers, he pulled out the record player in question, setting it on the table and plugging it in. Opening another drawer, and-
"Oh, dammit Glynda, why must you insist on trying to organise everything-"
Alright, time to hunt down his record of choice for the night.
Moving around like this helps stimulate his mind, jostling his pickled brain until a few thought-bubbles rise to the top, making themselves known.
… If he could pull it off…
"Are you still there?" Ozpin asks, moving around the room for a moment, looking through various drawers to see if any of his records had survived his beautiful assistant's purge. "I believe you are- after all, I'm not much of a believer in ghost stories, but I can't help but feel a certain presence over my shoulder at the moment."
Perhaps in the upper gallery?
With a quick Aura-boosted hop, the thirty feet to the upper level of his office is covered without so much as an unnecessary inch of clearance, landing with almost feline grace for a man his age and his level of intoxication.
"If you are there, I would like to ask a favour of you."
Ozpin moves into the rows of shelves and cabinets, towards the last place he remembered his records being kept, past various encyclopedias and legal records; things he keeps meaning to get digitised for the sake of the poor floor up here, creaking under the weight of I so much wood and paper.
"Jaune… showed me the remains of something today. An entity the Transistor called Ludens."
Finally reaching his record collection and flicking on a small lamp, he begins to flip through them all; Animan Kreyol, border-Valish modal jazz, eastern Vacuoni rock- even some downright ancient Mantal bootlegs- recordings of bands banned in Mantle (a list so exhaustive that it would be easier to list all of the ones not banned under that regime) pressed into X-ray film scavenged from hospitals. Cheap, and of terrible quality, but still, music.
Even now, he daren't play them, just in case their age finally catches up to them.
Hmph. There's a metaphor in there somewhere, figuring it out is for more sober minds than his. Still- he has his memories of the live shows, and that is enough for him.
"I… would like to give him a second chance. When I saw what was left of him, I had this, bone-deep sense… that I could do just that. Give him, life, again."
And… there you are.
Ozpin pulls out a single album, one he's played many times- the cover so full of orange and yellow that it almost warms his face just to look at it, a young boy in a red scarf and bandages dominating the rest of the cover.
"Don't misunderstand me- I may speak out of a sense of empathy, but I know better than to play to yours."
He stands up, taking the album under one arm as he dodges through the stacks of books and files, backtracking for a moment as a thought takes him, and pulling an old, dusty file from a cabinet, before hopping over the balcony and landing with almost sober grace.
"No, I speak to your curiosity. I know people like you, and the Transistor- so much curiosity, so, pathologically unable to leave the big red button alone- that's why it tried to prod me in the soul, no?"
Pulling the album from its cover, he walks over to the record player and gently places it down, pulling the needle up and judging where he needs to drop it.
"So… do you want to try and achieve the impossible?"
Ozpin waits a moment, listening for the quiet fizzle of the Process creating matter from nothing.
The needle drops. A single guitar begins to play, the song almost stewing in its own anger. A song of unsympathetic gods, and the folly of relying on them.
What could he say? He sympathises with it.
He turns, seeing a single, palm-sized cube on his desk, a single red eye silently staring at him, and he can't stop himself from smiling.
"Very well," he says, rolling his sleeves up.
"Let's get to work."
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- Location
- The Surface Of A Hostile Planet
Heh.
- Location
- Massachusetts
Take my internet like then. It may be time to reread this story for the I think fourth or fifth time.
- Location
- United States
There is nothing that can go wrong with an ancient mage's drunken experimentation.
Every time this story updates, every time, It's a drop everything and read moment. I love everything about this, and highly anticipate the result of the process running face first into the world of magical experimentation at the side of a wizard with too many stories lived.
Every time this story updates, every time, It's a drop everything and read moment. I love everything about this, and highly anticipate the result of the process running face first into the world of magical experimentation at the side of a wizard with too many stories lived.
infinityDivided
Prince Of Doom
- Location
- USA
Wait a second...
And if he thought he could resurrect Ludens with the Process's help, why wouldn't he have brought it up earlier?
I don't think this is the Process. I think there's some OTHER quasi-omnipresent asshat poking around.
He knows the Process was there with them when they went over that. So why go over it again?
Whatever he's talking to, he isn't expecting empathy. And the Process isn't THAT bad.
And if he thought he could resurrect Ludens with the Process's help, why wouldn't he have brought it up earlier?
I don't think this is the Process. I think there's some OTHER quasi-omnipresent asshat poking around.
- Location
- Taken by the hand to a land that they understand
Remember, Ozpin was there when The Brothers cast down humanity, so he probably drunkenly thinks, like other Gods he's talked to, the Process have a lack of empathy towards humans.
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