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Mythical (RWBY Pyrrha Quest)

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Μῆνιν ἄειδε, θεά, Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος
οὐλομένην, ἣ μυρί᾽ Ἀχαιοῖς ἄλγε᾽ ἔθηκε,
πολλὰς δ᾽ ἰφθίμους...
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Πρωταθλητής 1
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    • Jemnite

    Jemnite

    CVN-69 Fella
    Location
    清源书院
    Μῆνιν ἄειδε, θεά, Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος
    οὐλομένην, ἣ μυρί᾽ Ἀχαιοῖς ἄλγε᾽ ἔθηκε,
    πολλὰς δ᾽ ἰφθίμους ψυχὰς Ἄϊδι προΐαψεν
    ἡρώων, αὐτοὺς δὲ ἑλώρια τεῦχε κύνεσσιν
    οἰωνοῖσί τε πᾶσι.    ​

    Πρωταθλητής 1


    Your name is Pyrrha Nikos and you do not care one wit for the blatherings of the girl in front of you.

    And you think you don't care very much for the girl, either.

    It's got nothing to do with her appearance. Physically you'd have to admit she's quite pretty. She's slender, possibly describable as 'petite', wound up with all the tautness of a tight bowstring. Her hair falls down to the mid of her back in a stark snow white ponytail. In her pure white dress she looks like a figurine, a dance sculpted from ice and snow. If she never opened her mouth, she'd give off the impression of a distant lonely figure, a Dulcina in the snow.

    Sadly she does open her mouth. A lot. And while you have a liking for pretty girls (and boys), you're not very interested in the noises that come out of their mouths besides mewls of pleasure.

    She, as she has informed you repeatedly, is Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company and someone worthy of being your partner. You'd sneer at that. She thinks her wealth makes her equal to your spear.

    It's such a laughable idea that you'd almost forgive for for the insult.

    Almost.

    "And why," you interrupt her before she goes on another self-effusive listing on her own outstanding qualia. "Should I care about that?"

    Her face as she transitions from assured self confidence to absolute and sudden shock amuses you greatly. She stutters, caught completely off guard. "What?" She repeats herself stupidly.

    For all of her self described intelligence, she clearly isn't that good at reacting to unforeseen events, is she? Well, you think you might prefer her this way. It makes her look cuter.

    "I said why should I care about any of that." You repeat yourself in a bored manner. "SDC? Upbringing? Blood? Which of these will make a single mote of difference when you're fighting for your life with your blood up and enemies to all sides?"

    She narrows her eyes. "What exactly are you saying here?"

    "Prove yourself." You kick yourself up to your feet and slide your shield and spear onto your back. "I don't care you are, who your parents are, or absolutely anything about where you came from. It's only what you do that interests me."

    "If you want to be my partner, prove yourself first and then find me."

    It's a dismissal, and even one that Ice Queen can see clearly. She steps back, posture and body language raring as if to say something but at the last moment all the tension built up in her shoulders just sort of crumples away. She steps back and smooth her skirt out. "And then?"

    "I shall consider your request," you say lightly with no promises. It's the best she's going to get out of you and she knows it. She doesn't push any further but instead nods and steps back.

    She has sense. You may actually consider her request after all.

    With the Schnee girl behind you, you step forward and take a look at the rest of the locker room. It's a big room, with high curved ceilings and large glass windows through which sunlight trickles through and there are plenty of people still doing last minute preparations for the initiation.

    You could talk to them. If you so deemed any of them worthwhile of your company.

    [ ] The boy praying along alone on one of the wooden benches bolted to the center of the room. He's blond, his hair a sort of tattered wispy white yellow without any richness. His skin is as pale as his hair, almost sort of pallid looking. He wears silver armor plates, chestplate, shoulder, gauntlets, molded onto a hooded longtailed of dark blue. A lance with banner that's so plain in comparison to most hunters weapons it almost stands out in its plainness lays on his lap, already retrieved from his locker. He's tall and thin and even wearing armor has little to no definition to speak of.

    You wonder how he thinks he'll be able to make it through initiation. He's pretty enough that if he kisses your hand and begs, you might consider carrying him through.

    Might.

    [ ] The duo of red and gold. The taller of the two has the richness the boy lacks. Her hair is rich in both volume and color, deep golden and voluminous, spilling out in what can only be described as a mane of golden curls. Her skin is bronzed and sunkissed, combined with the thick ropes of muscles you can across her arms and shoulders, emblematic of a healthy lifestyle. She wears a an outfit that feels vaguely Vacuan with a red scarf and a dusty brown jacket which clings tightly to her equally voluminous bust, complete with boots with spurs on them.

    Seems like she'd be either a good fight or a good lay. Maybe both.

    The smaller of the two you write off. She's small and mousy, brimming with energy but not the sort you like. At first you might find her fun but she'd quickly get old. Much, much too young.

    But they seem like they come in a pair so if you want to talk to the big gal, you'll have to put up with the little girl too.

    [ ] The other duo. The boy is pale and slender with sharp pink eyes. His black hair falls halfway down his back, threaded by a few threads of pink weaving their way through what would otherwise be a tide of deep black. He wears a plain green jacket of Mistralian style and loose white pants. Your favorite kind of pretty boy.

    Unfortunately it seems he's taken by his companion. The blue eyed ginger girl talks to him as if she's his owner, and judging by the way that he's not protesting it she actually might be. Unlike him, she's less slender and more stocky. She's as muscled as the golden dragon from before, but she holds herself differently. Rather than a coiled spring given just enough slack, she holds herself openly and as she seems at face. She wears an armor shirt of laminar mail and high fur-collared black half-vest half-skirt that hooks around her arms and holds tight around her abdomen before falling away into a armored skirt.

    She gives off the impression that she thinks herself the best and you somewhat feel the urge to go over and utterly crush her delusions of grandeur. There can only be one supreme under the eyes of Selene and you shall stand no challengers.

    [ ] Sit in your tent and brood. About the past, perhaps.

    [ ] Write in

    QN: Achilles. Of all the warlords loved by the gods, he's the biggest jerk of them all.
    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Feb 24, 2018 at 2:59 PM, finished with 7 posts and 5 votes.
    • [X] The duo of red and gold. The taller of the two has the richness the boy lacks. Her hair is rich in both volume and color, deep golden and voluminous, spilling out in what can only be described as a mane of golden curls. Her skin is bronzed and sunkissed, combined with the thick ropes of muscles you can across her arms and shoulders, emblematic of a healthy lifestyle. She wears a an outfit that feels vaguely Vacuan with a red scarf and a dusty brown jacket which clings tightly to her equally voluminous bust, complete with boots with spurs on them.
      [X] Sit in your tent and brood. About the past, perhaps.
      [X] The other duo. The boy is pale and slender with sharp pink eyes. His black hair falls halfway down his back, threaded by a few threads of pink weaving their way through what would otherwise be a tide of deep black. He wears a plain green jacket of Mistralian style and loose white pants. Your favorite kind of pretty boy.
      [X] The boy praying along alone on one of the wooden benches bolted to the center of the room. He's blond, his hair a sort of tattered wispy white yellow without any richness. His skin is as pale as his hair, almost sort of pallid looking. He wears silver armor plates, chestplate, shoulder, gauntlets, molded onto a hooded longtailed of dark blue. A lance with banner that's so plain in comparison to most hunters weapons it almost stands out in its plainness lays on his lap, already retrieved from his locker. He's tall and thin and even wearing armor has little to no definition to speak of.
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Feb 24, 2018 at 8:44 PM, finished with 27 posts and 19 votes.
    • [X] The duo of red and gold. The taller of the two has the richness the boy lacks. Her hair is rich in both volume and color, deep golden and voluminous, spilling out in what can only be described as a mane of golden curls. Her skin is bronzed and sunkissed, combined with the thick ropes of muscles you can across her arms and shoulders, emblematic of a healthy lifestyle. She wears a an outfit that feels vaguely Vacuan with a red scarf and a dusty brown jacket which clings tightly to her equally voluminous bust, complete with boots with spurs on them.
      [X] The other duo. The boy is pale and slender with sharp pink eyes. His black hair falls halfway down his back, threaded by a few threads of pink weaving their way through what would otherwise be a tide of deep black. He wears a plain green jacket of Mistralian style and loose white pants. Your favorite kind of pretty boy.
      [X] Sit in your tent and brood. About the past, perhaps.
      [X] The boy praying along alone on one of the wooden benches bolted to the center of the room. He's blond, his hair a sort of tattered wispy white yellow without any richness. His skin is as pale as his hair, almost sort of pallid looking. He wears silver armor plates, chestplate, shoulder, gauntlets, molded onto a hooded longtailed of dark blue. A lance with banner that's so plain in comparison to most hunters weapons it almost stands out in its plainness lays on his lap, already retrieved from his locker. He's tall and thin and even wearing armor has little to no definition to speak of.
      [X] The duo of red and gold.
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Feb 24, 2018 at 10:29 PM, finished with 30 posts and 22 votes.
    • [X] The duo of red and gold. The taller of the two has the richness the boy lacks. Her hair is rich in both volume and color, deep golden and voluminous, spilling out in what can only be described as a mane of golden curls. Her skin is bronzed and sunkissed, combined with the thick ropes of muscles you can across her arms and shoulders, emblematic of a healthy lifestyle. She wears a an outfit that feels vaguely Vacuan with a red scarf and a dusty brown jacket which clings tightly to her equally voluminous bust, complete with boots with spurs on them.
      [X] The boy praying along alone on one of the wooden benches bolted to the center of the room. He's blond, his hair a sort of tattered wispy white yellow without any richness. His skin is as pale as his hair, almost sort of pallid looking. He wears silver armor plates, chestplate, shoulder, gauntlets, molded onto a hooded longtailed of dark blue. A lance with banner that's so plain in comparison to most hunters weapons it almost stands out in its plainness lays on his lap, already retrieved from his locker. He's tall and thin and even wearing armor has little to no definition to speak of.
      [X] The other duo. The boy is pale and slender with sharp pink eyes. His black hair falls halfway down his back, threaded by a few threads of pink weaving their way through what would otherwise be a tide of deep black. He wears a plain green jacket of Mistralian style and loose white pants. Your favorite kind of pretty boy.
      [X] Sit in your tent and brood. About the past, perhaps.
      [X] The duo of red and gold.
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Feb 25, 2018 at 10:20 AM, finished with 46 posts and 27 votes.
    • [X] The duo of red and gold. The taller of the two has the richness the boy lacks. Her hair is rich in both volume and color, deep golden and voluminous, spilling out in what can only be described as a mane of golden curls. Her skin is bronzed and sunkissed, combined with the thick ropes of muscles you can across her arms and shoulders, emblematic of a healthy lifestyle. She wears a an outfit that feels vaguely Vacuan with a red scarf and a dusty brown jacket which clings tightly to her equally voluminous bust, complete with boots with spurs on them.
      [X] The boy praying along alone on one of the wooden benches bolted to the center of the room. He's blond, his hair a sort of tattered wispy white yellow without any richness. His skin is as pale as his hair, almost sort of pallid looking. He wears silver armor plates, chestplate, shoulder, gauntlets, molded onto a hooded longtailed of dark blue. A lance with banner that's so plain in comparison to most hunters weapons it almost stands out in its plainness lays on his lap, already retrieved from his locker. He's tall and thin and even wearing armor has little to no definition to speak of.
      [X] The other duo. The boy is pale and slender with sharp pink eyes. His black hair falls halfway down his back, threaded by a few threads of pink weaving their way through what would otherwise be a tide of deep black. He wears a plain green jacket of Mistralian style and loose white pants. Your favorite kind of pretty boy.
      [X] Sit in your tent and brood. About the past, perhaps.
      [X] The duo of red and gold.
    Click to expand...
     
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    • Character List

    You     - The Champion. Pyrrha Nikos. Four Mistral Regional Champion. Supreme over man. Invincible under the light of Selene.

    Definitely not full of yourself.

    Philia - Your sister by choice if not by blood.

    Alexandros - Fucking rich prettyboy nerd. One day you'll smash his jaw in.

    Hektor - Pretty decent guy. It's a shame you had to put him into a hospital, but he should have been more careful around Philia, yeah?

    Aivas - Strongest warrior you've ever met. Almost a match for you. Almost.

    Ozpin - The most renowned hunter in the Four Kingdoms. Prodigy hunter at the age of 20, teacher at Beacon Academy by the age of 25, headmaster of Beacon Academy before he was even halfway through his 30s. Also known the only reason you're in Vale.

    Weiss - (Current) heir of the Schnee family. Atlesian. Proud and prideful but also filled with a strong desire to perfect herself.

    Ruby - Excitable prodigy girl. Reminds you of Philia, except hyperactive, less aggressive, and not resembling Philia in any way.

    Yang - Tough girl. Ruby's older sister. >AMAZING CHEST AHEAD<

    Nora - Girl who is strong but also utterly full of herself. Does not resemble you whatsoever in any way.

    Ren - Pretty boy. Reasonable and level headed guy.

    Jaune - ???? Apparently a child of the Arc family except he doesn't exist? Very suspicious.

    Blake - Weiss's retainer. Quiet. Very prepared.
     
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    • Πρωταθλητής 2
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    • Πρωταθλητής 2

    Why not, you decide. You quite doubt any of them will be more than a passing fancy, but you might as well kill some time while you're here.

    Plus you're going to have to carry one of them across your shield for the next four years at Beacon, either way. Might as well pick find one who will slow you down the least.

    You sashay over to a duo of red and gold, a short little girl hidden away in a deep scarlet cloak and her lionlike companion. The former shrinks into the background, but the latter stands out even amongst the colorful arrangement of prospect student-hopefuls filling the ready room. With her flowing mane of lustrous golden curls flowing her back and her bold confident stance, she stands out like the sun.

    And gold is very much your color.

    The smaller of the two spots you before her companion. You spot a round milky-pale face peer out at you from beneath her scarlet hood, tugging slowly at the ends of her companion. Underneath her hood you spot a few threads of raven black hair before she pulls her hood back over her eyes and steps back, scurrying away to hide behind the golden one.

    A shy one it seems. You've dealt with a few in your time. Shrinking violets are hardly worth the effort it takes to coax them out of their shells. You put her aside as you take in the sight of the golden haired one.

    She's strong. You call tell that as you're approaching. Her brown leather coat is half a size too small for her frame and rides up on her rather large chest, revealing flat and hard slabs of rectis abdominis. Ropes of muscle cling tight to her shoulders and arms, speaking of the physique of an intensely physical fighter, a brawler. She carries herself with the posture of a predator, easy, laid back, right until the moment she suddenly unleashes all that coiled up energy, right for the neck. She smiles as you approach. It's got just a hint too much teeth to be friendly.

    It's a little amusing that she thinks herself a match for you. Just a little.

    "Hey hey hey," she drawls out, observing you with lilac eyes. Her voice is surprisingly warm and light with just a hint of deeper tones around the edges. Not exactly what you'd have guess from her appearance. "Looks like someone's come to say hi."

    The little one peeks out a bit further from behind her companion. Curious little mouse.

    "I observed the two of you all alone," you reply, "and I thought I might investigate what brought such a seemingly mismatched duo together."

    "Hah," she laughs. "Do we really look that strange together?" She extends a hand. You note the slightly bulky burnished gold bracer around her wrist which smells faintly of fire dust. "Yang Xiao Long."

    "Pyrrha Nikos." You respond in kind and hear a faint gasp from the girl behind Yang's back. Yang herself clasps your hand tightly and you can see her bicep flex a bit as she uses that prodigious muscle to use. Not one to lose, you apply a bit more strength as well. You don't have the bulk she does, but you're hardly soft.

    And while the two of you are having your dominance play the girl behind Yang's back suddenly abandons her cover at the mention of your name. The edge of her cloak flops sideways and you finally catch your first glimpse of her eyes which have so far been obscured by both distance and the flapping edge of her oversized scarlet cloak. They're a light grey the color of tarnished silver. Surprisingly boring for the wait.

    "Pyrrha Nikos?" She says with all the excitement in the world. Not only does she look small, but she sounds like a child too. Squeaky and exuberant. "As in the four time Mistral Regional Champion Pyrrha Nikos?"

    "A fan?" You crush Yang's grip with sudden force and smile indulgently. You'd say you were pleasantly surprised, but then you'd be lying.

    There's hardly anything to be surprised about.

    "Yeah!" She bounces forward and before Yang is done withdrawing her aching arm, she's in front of you, rose petals flying everywhere in her wake. She sticks both her arms in front of you and catches your arm, shaking it exuberantly up and down. "I'm Ruby Rose!"

    "Well met." Your gaze flicks between the now suddenly devoid of shyness Ruby and the slightly amused onlooking Yang.

    Your question is clear enough even unspoken. "We're sisters," Yang says. "Half sisters."

    Their mother, or father, must have been quite the interesting person to have found two so different partners if his, or her, children are any indicator. "You two have seen me in the tournament then?"

    "Yeah!" Ruby explodes. By now she bears absolutely no resemblance to the shy mousey girl who had been hiding behind her elder sister and using her as a shield just seconds ago. "We watched you all the time over the CCT! You were amazing! Especially in the finals last year. You crushed that guy like he was absolutely nothing."

    Last year… you think you were matched up against Hektor. That was a fun one. You beat him completely black and blue. Broke his arm in three places. He spent six months in the hospital. His parents were so mad at you.

    He probably didn't deserve that sort of treatment but he should have known better than to cross you. The wrath of a Nikos will not be so easily abated once it is incurred.

    "His gauntlet was really cool, though. I've never seen anything like that. I mean, obviously he still lost but I mean I've never seen that sort of weapon. The one that he wore of his hand, I mean. The gauntlet. It know it used lightning dust to create a controlled discharge but how did he get the shaping effect? He used some of his lightning spears to parry your blows right? That means had to have been pretty solid. He kind of got worn down at the end though, the lightning manifestations got all fuzzy and blurry. Was it tied to his semblance?"

    Ruby absolutely bombards you with questions, stopping not once to breath. You looked towards Yang, who only smiles ruefully with the expression of someone who's long grown accustomed to the unnatural vitality of her sister. Humor her, she mouths. Please.

    O mighty are the burdens placed upon the shoulders of the great.

    "The Keravnós," you recall from memory, visualizing the thunder gold rune-festooned gauntlet in your minds eye. "The ancestral weapon of the Ilius family. When Iloi, their founder, went to war, he commanded the thunder and lightning with his semblance. His gauntlet inherited some of his nature and since then it has the become the weapon of choice for the head of the family."

    "Oooooh," Ruby leans in excited. "Have you used it before?"

    "Once." Not counting the time you ripped it off of Hektor's hand and broke his nose with his own weapon, you had gotten a chance to play with it. You didn't like it. Using it required immense concentration and you got the sense to master it would require a willingness to dedicate hour upon ultimately what was just another cute gimmick. Only an idiot with more willpower than sense and not enough talent to make up the difference would devote the time to master such a weapon. "It wasn't really my style."

    "I think your weapon is cool, too." Ruby says, possessed by an apparent misimpression that you now want to talk about your style. "I mean both of them. Not a lot of people go with a shield in Vale. Do you want to see my weapon?"

    Without even waiting for an answer, her hand whips around to her back and pulls out a blocky mass of red steel. It seems red is really her color after all. As her cloak shifts you catch a glimpse a black skirt and a lot of lace before it's all buried under a mass of scarlet cloth again.

    As you shift your attention back to the block of red steel in her hands, it unfolds with a cacophony of noise. After screeching, whirring, and clicking in short succession, a scythe almost as long as she is tall stands proudly in the little girl's hands. The silver blade shines under the light, its sharpness almost audible in the silence that comes after everyone within the 50 meters immediately stops talking once they catch sight of the weapon being mecha shifted inside the locker room.

    Ruby doesn't notice at all. "I call her Crescent Rose because the blade is like a crescent and it's my baby so it has my last name." She eagerly shows off all the details of her weapon. "See here, this is where the motors for the mecha shifting are and the shaft is actually a barrel so I can shoot with it and also here's where the magazine goes and here's the vent and firing chamber and the scythe blade is also supposed to be able to mecha shift into a glaive but I'm still working on that."

    Again you are impressed by her capacity to spit out hundreds of words on a single breath. You look over at Yang who only sighs, her face the picture of resignation. You give Ruby a vague smile of approval and are saved from having to voice any actual opinions by the click of the PA.

    "Attention, will all candidates please report to Beacon Hill?" A woman says loud and clear over the speakers. "Initiation is about to begin. I repeat, will all candidates please report to Beacon Hill?"

    As the PA repeats its message over and over again in the background Ruby jolts up in a sudden moment of realization. She turns to her sister, inklings of panic growing in her eyes. "Oh no!" She exclaims in a completely crestfallen tone. "Yang I forgot-"

    "To bring extra Dust rounds?" Yang preempts the girl. As little red frantically nods her head up and down Yang sighs. "Well, go ahead and grab them quickly before they start the test. I'll keep Pyrrha company while you do."

    Ruby's face lights up. "Thanks Yang!"

    And then she's gone.

    That girl reminds you of Philia somewhat, but where Philia and you trade quips and converse as equals, she overpowered you with her exuberance. You've never had a conversation simply just stolen away from you before, at least not with this total lack of ill-will.

    It's an unfamiliar experience and you aren't sure you like it.

    "You two looked like you hit it off quite well," Yang says as the two of you walk down a flight of stairs. "Ruby usually doesn't warm up to people that quickly. Normally she'd probably hide behind me for at least a week or so before dipping her toes in. But once she heard that you were the Pyrrha Nikos, Mistral Champion she just jumped straight in."

    "Most people have that reaction." You reassure her, just a hint of arrogance bleeding into your voice. "It's normal to be in awe of my presence."

    "Hm, yeah." Yang's lips twitch. "She really looks up to you, you know. She was halfway determined to transfer right to Sanctum after she saw your first championship win if it wasn't for the fact our dad taught at Signal."

    "Surely not more than her sister."

    Is she trying to push her little sister onto you? You're sorry but Philia is your only true Heteroi and you won't accept another.

    "Well, it's in a different way." She takes a few steps faster and you speed up your pace to match her reflexively. Her face falls into a frown and she spins around to walk backwards and only then do you realize what she's trying to do. You slow down so she can talk to you face to face. "I'm her older sister. She looks up to me as someone she loves and has grown up with. But you're her idol. I can only tell her so much before she decides it's the blatherings of her older sister."

    "And?"

    "And well, Ruby is a little…. well I don't quite know if this is the right word, unbalanced." Yang shrugs. "She's at Beacon two years early and she completely belongs to be here but she needs to learn how to slow down and center herself."

    "And?" You repeat yourself. "What does that have to do with me?"

    "Well, I was hhhhhoping you might decide to help me out there."

    You stop walking. Yang stops with you. Her eyes narrow into slits as she studies your face. You stare levely back at her, straight into her eyes. "And? Why should I do this?"

    "You mean what's in it for you?" She crosses her arms under her chest and squares her shoulder. "A favor I suppose."

    "From who? You?" You smirk. "I haven't even seen what you can do, what makes you think I would be willing to accept the burden of mentoring a hyperactive young girl based on a nebulous favor based on a girl I met no more than half a hour ago?"

    "What, you think I can't fight?" Yang's expression is halfway between playfully hurt and genuinely offended. Her posture shifts abruptly and her frame tenses. You don't bother to match her.

    If she tried you'd beat her bloody either way.

    "I've never seen you fight."

    "What, do you want me to prove it right here?" Yang laughs and grins at you with too many teeth. "I'm pretty sure I could give you a good show of it, but if we throw down here we're going to be late for initiation."

    "Do you really think there won't be combat in an initiation for a Hunter Academy?" You figure you'll offer her the same deal as you offered the Schnee. "Sharpen those fangs on Grimm first and then we'll see."

    You push past her, reaching out one finger to trace the shape of her jaw as you pass by, and step out through a doorway into natural light. Yang watches you as you pass by. From behind you hear her yell. "You're a bit of a tease, you know?"

    "I know!" You call back.

    You don't bother looking back.

    There are prospectives gathered on Beacon Hill already, no more than seventy to eighty at a quick glance. Up ahead of the crowd you can see Headmaster Ozpin himself at the head of the forming crowd. The prodigy headmaster is just as he appeared in all of the books you read about him. His hair is a pale shade of silver, thrown about messily in a bird's nest. His dark spectacles slide down from from his nose. He has small dark bags under his thin amber-brown eyes and and combined with his pale complexion and lack of proper grooming it makes him seem somewhat run down and bedraggled.

    But his eyes are as sharp as any.

    He's at least bundled himself up appropriately for the cold winter weather. A deep forest green scarf seals him into his warm looking black suit, which you gaze upon with a slight envy. It's cold here in Vale. Unlike balmy Mistral, the mountain backed rains bring cold misty showers. He leans heavily on a cane that ticks every so often. You can see brass cogs moving on the inside.

    You spot one figure standing apart from the crowd. It's that wispy looking boy from the locker room, the one who was armored in white and praying in silence on one of the benches. He has his banner spear in hand now and is staring out across the hillside into the forest. From a distance you can see his lips moving, but not clearly enough to read them.

    Odd boy.

    You tramp across the cold and dew soaked grass, too proud to allow yourself to shiver, searching for a spot where you can see the Headmaster clearly. You watch one of his teachers, a frazzy looking fellow, pour him a mug of coffee from a silver-steel thermos. He takes a few sips, and then clears his throat with a few soft coughs.

    The murmuring dulls to a stop.

    "Ahem," he coughs one last time. "Well, I suppose we should begin. In the interests of briefness, I'll skip straight to the point."

    "This year's exam is a simple search and retrieval mission. You all will be venturing into scenic Emerald Forest behind you-" You spot some students actually turn to look for some reason as if they didn't know exactly where the Grimm filled forest was. "-and retrieving one of 32 relics planted by our teachers. The trek will likely take more than a day and you will be responsible for securing supplies and shelter on your own. It would be in your best interests to proceed as quickly as possible."

    There's the sound of shifting rock behind you and you and most of the crowd turn to see the odd boy from before already slipping down the side of the cliff before the headmaster is done speaking. A few students laugh and whispers begin to spread through the prospectives.

    "I don't know why you're all laughing," the headmaster says, his voice crisp and clear even through all the noise. The din quiets down almost immediately. "He's heading straight for the relics. He might even get there before any of you."

    ...before you? The words echo in your head, drowning out everything else, and your right hand tightens into a fist.

    Before you?

    Unacceptable.

    Miló and Akoúo̱ are in your hands before you've taken three steps after him. You push through the crowd, toppling over people in your wake like bowling pins. Ozpin's last words echo in your ears as you leap off the cliff.

    "-the key to this test is cooperation and teamwork. I advise you all to keep that in mind going forward."

    You beat feet and tear through the forest.

    [ ] Chase the boy down. He knows where the relics are. You will have him divulge the location to you.

    [ ] Trail the boy. You can afford to watch him from a distance, and put on a last burst of speed at the end to outtake him and take a relic before him. From then on it's only a matter to making it back before him.

    [ ] Burst past him. You're confident enough in your skills that you can find the relic before him, no matter how odd his start was. You just couldn't afford to let him get the upper hand.

    [ ] Write in
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    • Πρωταθλητής 3
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    • Πρωταθλητής 3

    Earth and trees blend together in a dizzying swirl of green underneath you as you leap across the sky. You snap run across one branch, leap off into the sky, hook Miló, the mechashifting weapon currently in the form of a red tipped spear, into another branch and kick off to swing yourself across the air. Your feet carve divots in the branches of ancient trees as you jump from branch to branch, never letting yourself touch base earth.

    You are a huntress of Selene, but in this moment you are a daughter of Jove above all else. The sky is yours.

    You surpass the boy in twenty minutes. From above you spot him, white armored figure clamoring over rocks and through bushes, white banner waving proudly in the wind. You watch him look up and stare as you pass above him. Leaves shorn from your passage drift down around him. You half consider stopping to watch him gape, but it's enough to know that you're better than him.

    Besides, if you stopped to remind everyone how inferior they were compared to you, you'd never have any free time at all.

    Instead you push forward and past him. You are beyond him, in both distance and skill. You forge ahead alone, deep into the depths of the Emerald Forest.

    Grimm come, of course. This is the Emerald Forest after all. Those who manage to follow your mad dash across the treetops and canopies of the Emerald Forest are mostly corvids, birdlike Grimm lacking full masks and power, not yet grown enough to be called Nevermore but still clearly defined as Grimm by the taint of shadow over flesh and jaundiced yellow eyes. At first, it is in ones and twos that slink behind you, following from a fair distance, yellow eyes glowing in the last dying dregs of the day's sunlight.

    The ones and twos grow quickly. As the corvids pass each others nesting grounds they call out to each in shrill sharp trills, and the other murders join in their shadowing. They nip at your heels and swirl into a great mass of corvid Grimm, a black blot upon the sky, endless without number. But as numerous as they are they still hold back, not daring to attack a huntress in full armor girded and armed for battle.

    Still, even if they are a cowardly bunch, they do have numbers. And all it will take is one spark to push the critical mass over the edge. Any sensible hunter or huntress with a healthy sense of self preservation would cull their numbers before they might gather like this and strike down the one or two lurking at the edges to scare off the crowd. The horde would die stillborn in its gestation before it could truly be conceived. Fortunately for the corvids, you are not a sensible hunter with a healthy sense of self preservation.

    And you love a good fight.

    The match that lights this fire is a dark shadow that blots out the sun. The Nevermore is a black giant of break and feathers that drips shadows and tainted blood. It flies above your head and looks at you with its full bonelike mask and glowing red eyes and croaks, "Send her to the Plutonian Shore."

    The corvids come.

    In a snap Miló and Akoúo̱, your faithful rifle-spear and shield, are in front of you in your hands, the former slotting into a little notch in the side of the latter just like it was meant to be. Steadied by the loving embrace of its partner, Miló the rifle speaks out a rapid pitter patter of words, dustfire bullets carving out a bloody swathe from the corvids before they approach. Birds squawk and feathers fly as the corvids' cowardly nature briefly overwhelms their moment of courage, yet black feathers from the Nevermore drive them forward once more as a deadly living arrow of beaks and bodies.

    A single sharp and glinting beak rams into Akoúo̱, sliding off to the side of the angled shield. Miló the xiphos snaps out a repartee, and red mixes with red as the corvid's guts splay out of its carved open body. But vengeance is not far behind, flying foes a black tide, their bodies a massive battering ram that slams into you with raw, naked force. You grunt and brace your feet against the onrushing tide, pushing through with Akoúo̱, meeting force for force.

    The combined power of over fifty Grimm is greater than what you can muster, and they blow you away. You're sent flying. The massive horde of Grimm breaks apart once you're airborne, each one hungry and grasping for your flesh. One foe has become many once more, each Grimm on its own attack run. Miló telescopes outwards and you swing once, twice, thrice. Black feathers and black blood spray in the wake of each swing - beautiful flashes of red followed by shots of black. You twist as you touch upon a branch, still for a moment, caught in a twisting pirouette, and explode forward in a violent burst of speed, wood and bark mangled with spiral patterns in your wake. Akoúo̱ snaps back onto your back as you swing Miló with reckless abandon, reaping swathes of corvids from the air with every movement. It's still not enough. At this rate you won't finish until the next morning.

    The solution, as it always is, is to go for the head. Kill the Nevermore and the corvids will flee. It is a simple two step plan. Reach it. Kill it.

    You unhook Akoúo̱ once more to guard you from the swarming corvids as Miló shifts into rifle form. The corvids see their chance and take it, swooping in just as the elder Nevermore commands them. Akoúo̱ sees action, crushing corvid heads under the weight of solid bronze. A lesser hunter would be overwhelmed by the sudden onrush but for you, even just your shield is enough. You aim Miló straight behind you and empty all but one of the remaining rounds in the magazine in rapid succession, while at the same time taking leaping into the air. The effect is just as you hoped it would be. You're thrown forward in blast of movement, self-made rocket thrusters firing at full power at your back. You'd scream at the sheer exhilaration- but you only have eyes for your prize.

    You rocket into the wall of corvids, thrown at you like another poorly constructed javelin of flesh and feathers, elder Nevermore pulling their strings from behind. As you pass one by, you smash its skull in with your foot, propelling yourself upwards. One, two, three. The stepping stones die eagerly in their rush to fight you and it is only too late that the elder Nevermore realizes what you're doing.

    Miló carves a ragged line through its right wing and it screams. You roar in victory, your path laid clear with Nevermore blood.

    In fury and rage and fear of the death you bring, the Nevermore thrashes its wings with sudden unfound strength and throws at you a typhoon of wind and stiff black spear-like feathers. Akoúo̱ comes up to receive it and groans under the assault, but your faithful shield holds. Even so, you're thrown back, Miló ripped out from the Nevermore's flesh, strings of tainted black Grimm blood streaming from its tip. Your back is supported by nothing but air and it's a long fall to the forest floor below. In this brief window, the Nevermore desperately beats its wings, to escape its certain demise, fleeing from the small human who wounded it so.

    The act is futile. From the moment it had allowed you to close in- its end was already determined. The arm holding Akoúo̱ lines up. The arm holding Miló pulls back.

    And you fire the last, single, remaining dust round in Miló's magazine in a perfect straight line shot right into the soft spot under the Nevermore's mask.

    A mortal wound. The Nevermore screams and wails and slams from side to side, trying to live another moment, another second, another day. But the glory of the kill is yours. You reach out your hand to faithful, trustworthy Miló, soaked in years and years of your Aura and baptized countless times in blood and glory.

    "έρχομαι."

    As Miló drags the Nevermore down towards you, you are dragged up to meet it. One hand clings onto the Nevermore's mask, the other pulls Miló out. You raise your spear, red and thirsty, to strike the finishing blow-

    And then a bolt of lightning comes down from the heavens and knocks you and the Nevermore senseless.

    Your body jolts and rattles in the embrace of the storm, and you barely manage to turn Akoúo̱ aside in time to catch the oversized tree branch below you. It snaps under your sudden weight, and so does the next, and the next, and the next, but as the as last branch comes you manage to throw yourself aside, Miló punching deep into the flesh to a tree to your side. You cling there for a few moments, struggling to catch your breath as the adrenaline fades away.

    Then you let yourself drop slowly in a controlled fashion to the forest floor below. Now that the blood rush is fading you can feel all the scraps you just took, like small cuts across your legs and face from corvids strikes that struck a little bit closer than you'd expected and an ache around your back and shoulders which speaks of developing bruises. And the lightning induced paralysis of course. Can't forget that. They're already fading away, but for now you feel raw and sore.

    Above you two figures dart across the canopy top. One wields a giant hammer in hand, bound to some sort of dust piston mechanism because there's an explosion of force every time she swings it, a rocket of force smashing everything in her way. The other carries an oddly tipped long spear, a qiang, across his shoulder. Every so often it lashes out in a cutting blow, striking down those who manage to make it past his partner's hammer.

    The girl and boy you saw back in the locker room. The ginger valkyrie and her raven haired companion. You watch them clean up the last of the rapidly fleeing corvids and narrow your eyes when the girl points and a line of thunder unspools itself from the heaven.

    Suddenly, the soreness across your body is gone. Your hands twitch for your weapons again.

    It takes them no more than a handful of minutes to scare away the last of the corvids now that their leader, the Nevermore, is no more than a shattered bone mask and a pile of steaming dark Grimm flesh. They land near you once the threat of another attack from the air is gone and dealt with.

    "Hail warrior!" The ginger haired girl says as she approaches, waving her giant hammer in greeting. "I and my companion-"

    "-Ren," her companion offers.

    "Ren, don't interrupt me." The ginger girl shoots him an annoyed look. "It undermines my authority. Anyway," she's all smiles again turning at to you. "I and my companion-"

    "-Ren."

    "My companion Ren," she grits out, teeth clenched. "Noticed that you were engaged in mortal combat with a Nevermore. Fearing for your safety, we endeavoured to rally to your aid."

    "You forgot to mention your name Nora."

    "I am Nora Valkyrie," Nora says, gripping her hammer tightly with a strained smile on her face. "And my companion is Lie Ren. It is good to meet you."

    ...good to meet you, huh? You purse your lips. This is the girl who just shocked you so hard your right pinky is still twitching and stole your kill right from under you in your moment of glory. And this is in her mind, a friendly greeting? You can't think of anything which would make an even worse first impressio-

    "Oh, and you don't have to repay us for the favor." Nora says, the magnanimous expression of a gracious overlord upon her face. "It is a warrior's duty to help out all poor souls in need of aid. Know that you need only call the name Valkyrie and the Great Nora will take it upon herself to protect you."

    Oh.

    Oh.

    [ ] For her insult there is no other punishment suitable than death a beating. Kill her Crush her for her insolence.

    [ ] You are a merciful goddess. You will let them off in exchange for tribute. Extract concessions (at spearpoint).

    [ ] Pyrrha in her tent.

    [ ] Write in

    QN: Pyrrha, making friends all day every day. This update brought to you by the editing magic of logiccosmic. 50 percent chance of Grimm interrupt in all options.
    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 1, 2018 at 4:19 PM, finished with 197 posts and 59 votes.
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    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 1, 2018 at 4:20 PM, finished with 34 posts and 17 votes.
    • [X] For her insult there is no other punishment suitable than death a beating. Kill her Crush her for her insolence.
      [X] Pyrrha in her tent.
      [X]Announce your grievance in full then challenge her to mortal combat a duel! And no she doesn't get to deny it.
      - [x] For her insult there is no other punishment suitable than death a beating. Kill her Crush her for her insolence.
      [X] Sulk now, beat them later.
      [X] You are a merciful goddess. You will let them off in exchange for tribute. Extract concessions (at spearpoint).
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    • Grimmpedia: Nevermore
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    • Usili 2.0 said:
    Although... the Nevermore could talk? That's... a bit concerning.
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    Nevermore
    From Grimmpedia, the free Grimm classification guide

    The Nevermore is a classification of Grimm used to describe a common avian subtype of Grimm possessed of black feathers, a white bone mask, red eyes, and sharp claws and beak used. The name comes from a habit observed among Nevermore to repeat the phrase "nevermore" when attacking human settlements.

    Nevermore are considered to be a 5 on the Richter's scale of danger. In the case of a Nevermore attack, the advised response is to immediately take shelter within any sturdy edifice with four walls and a roof. Be aware that Nevermore are often accompanied by their lesser cousins, the Corvus, and that a Nevermore when spotting humans will quickly summon Corvus to aid it, and vise versa.

    Biology [edit]
    Biologically, all Nevermore are a higher evolution of the Grimm type Corvus as has been confirmed by a number of post mortem autopsies done on slain Nevermore. When a Corvus survives for long enough and consumes enough flesh, it will usually end up maturing into a juvenile Nevermore. The first sign of a maturing Corvus is usually a growth in size and bulk, followed shortly thereafter by bone growth, starting from the claws and ending with the mask. It will undergo physiological changes as it grows, which include additional eyes, the growth of a dorsal fin used to stabilize it in sudden rolling maneuvers, and 'claws' on its outer wing joints. The last stage of a Corvus's evolution is the growth of a voicebox. Nevermore have been observed to have the capability to speak, not only simple words and phrases, but also to string together complex words and phrases though all attempts to communicate with Nevermore have so far been failures. It is unknown if they do not have the higher brain capacity to understand these communication attempts or if they simply have no desire to communicate.

    Like most Grimm, Nevermore subside on a diet of human beings, wild animals, other Grimm, and raw dust. Nevermore have been observed to consume precious metals as well, though studies of Nevermore droppings have suggested that this is a behavioral trait and they obtain no substance from them.

    Habitat and Behavior [edit]
    Similar to its Corvus kin, Nevermore behave very similar to crows in nest formation and diet. As one of the most common species of higher level Grimm, they have been found across most of the Four Kingdoms. Unlike Corvus who like to nest communally in areas where it is possible such as large wooded areas, Nevermore have been shown to be more solitary creatures, preferring to make their nests atop high mountain tops and the like. That is not to say a Nevermore nest can only obtain one Nevermore. There have been Nevermore nests found with up to 8 Nevermore nesting within. Anyone who finds and plans out an attack on such a nest should not be mistaken that there will only be one Nevermore at any given nest.

    Unusually among most species of Grimm, Nevermore often act in close cooperation with their lesser evolutionary cousins, to the point of even perferring their company to others of their kind. This sort of behavior is unheard of in other common species such as Beowolves and Taijitu, and can be considered a semi unique trait held by only a small number of Grimm classifications. Nevermore end usually acting as leaders of Corvus murders. Such murders can be considered more dangerous than usual, for Corvus will become more emboldened by the presence of a Nevermore. Some Nevermore will choose to nest with their Corvus cousins. In such cases they usually choose the highest nesting location. Semi evolved Corvus can be seen taking a role similar to Nevermore, though not with the same level of authority.

    During a Grimm Night, Nevermore will often serve as the vanguard of a scouting column for the hordes of Grimm, using their command over Corvus to sweep the land in a tide of airborne Grimm, whittling down human defenses, before heavier and more dangerous Grimm species arrive in force. For this reason the Kingdoms place a high priority on tracking Nevermore movements, as any flock of more than three full grown Nevermore could speak of an oncoming Grimm Night.

    Myth and Legend [edit]
    In ancient pre-kingdom civilization, the Nevermore is generally an augur, a fortuneteller of disaster and ill luck. Their role at the head of Grimm Nights was considered prophetic and the Nevermore quickly became the symbol of bad luck. This trait has carried on to their lesser cousins. More superstitious Hunters will make the Sign of Evil Banishing after exterminating Nevermore and might refuse to venture into a nest unless proper dust-wards are set up.

    Specific examples of legendary Nevermore are common, due to their status as a widespread Grimm subtype. Examples include the Crone, a Nevermore said to have lived so long it evolved sentience and a humanoid form, or the Nachtkrapp, a featherless eyeless Nevermore which dooms all those who look into the gaps within its wings and skull to a horrible and painful death. Nevermore also make an appearance in several local religions. In the totemist religion of the Sanusian Sand Tribes (different from that of the barbarian tribes of Anima), the Nevermore are the spawn of Zelee, the dark counterpart of Photinas, the phoenix totem. As Photinas exists to spread light, life and hope, the spawn of Zelee spread misery, despair, and ill luck. In the orthodox interpretation of the Sanusian tales, Photinas is continually overpowered by his dark counterpart and his creations, but is never destroyed so long as hope exists still in the hearts of man.

    Hunting Nevermore [edit]
    Please view the Hunter-only version of the Nevermore page on Grimmpedia to view this section.
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    • Πρωταθλητής 4
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    • Πρωταθλητής 4

    You were wrong. If it was this girl, she would find a way to make an even worse first impression, no matter how long the odds were.

    You want to take up your spear and wipe that stupid happy go lucky expression of her face complete. You want to slam your shield into her face and watch her fall to her knees in apology for her misdeeds. You want to crush her so utterly that she knows of the futility of her efforts to resist and the great sin she has committed in offending you, Pyrrha Nikos, goddess of victory and champion of all under the moonlight sky.

    It's what you want to do. Unfortunately it's not what you'll be able to do. RIght now, you're in the middle of the Emerald Forest, an admitted tame but still Grimm infested forest, slightly weathered and out of dust rounds and you absolutely cannot afford to get into a all out fight with fellow hunters and huntresses.

    You are proud, fearsome and wrathful. Not stupid.

    But you don't feel right letting this Nora Valkyrie go without some sort of punishment. Perhaps not in totality, but you will see her broken before you in some way or fashion. You speak.

    "Shut up you blithering fool."

    That shuts her up quick.

    "You can no more do me a favor than can a cat perform one for a lion," you inform her of the difference between you and her. "Your blunder might have looked necessary to you, but I had no need of it. It is you who owes the favor. You stole my prey."

    Nora Valkyrie, thrown aback by your initial venom, rallies. "I offered you goodwill and you return it by spitting in my face," she bites out. "Do you know who you're speaking to?"

    "Do you?"

    The two of you glare at each other. Her eyes glow with thunder- quite literally, you think her semblance has something to do with it. You stare back with nothing but a furrowed brow.

    You don't need any fancy semblance to be great.

    "Nora, Nora." You hear Lie Ren say at the edges of your peripheral. He shakes Nora Valkyrie's shoulders gently, as if to calm her down. But you continue glaring into her eyes, and she into yours.

    The boy can say his pieces while you're doing so or hold his tongue.

    "Nora, you need to back off for a bit. We can't get into a fight here."

    "I'm not going to back off until she backs off." Nora says without breaking your glaring contest. "I will have an apology-"

    "That will never happen."

    "-either willingly or by force."

    Your right hand twitches for your weapon. Her hands tighten on hers.

    "Nora, do you know who she is?" Ren shakes Nora's shoulder again. He at least has the good sense to recognize you. "She's Pyrrha Nikos. Her uncle is Telamon. Telamon Kolouris!"

    You draw Miló at the mention of your uncle's name. The sound of ringing steel echoes through the forest.

    Nobody moves.

    You dislike that man and would prefer it if nobody ever mentioned his name in your presence. But even you have to begrudgingly admit that it has weight. Nora breaks off your glaring contest, and lowers her weapon hesitantly, caught between her pride and your uncle's name.

    A cowardly move. You would never let a mere name intimidate you.

    "And what would you have me do, Ren?" Her face twists in restrained anger. "Should I just let her go? After how she spit in our faces?"

    "You shot lightning into her Nora. Your pride is the least of our concerns right now." Ren turns to you, his face an inscrutable mask. "For what would you consider this matter settled."

    You could ask for anything. Dust rounds, to refill you spent magazine. Lien, though you doubt that two will have anything substantial. Promises of future favors.

    But you want your repayment in violence and fury.

    "First of all I want you to never to mention my uncle's name in my presence again." You start off with the simplest item on the docket. You don't want your name being connected with an old has-been businessmen, who traded his pride for wealth years ago. You've worked hard to carve out your own reputation on your own merits. "As for what I would consider this matter settled…"

    "A duel." You declare. You point Miló at Nora, red tip still thirsty after someone cruelly stole its prey from its grasp. "Single combat. Just her and me."

    "And my hammer through your-"

    Ren cuts off his friend's outburst. "Your terms?"

    "First blood," you start with the most basic one. You'd not going to get into a drag down knock out brawl in the Emerald Forest when you still have the rest of an initiation to finish. "We have no match wards, so no aiming for the head or vitals."

    "And when she loses, she doesn't come crying about how it wasn't fair." You've had enough of that, too. "Anything else is on the table."

    Ren pauses at your confidence, well deserved confidence, but holds his tongue. Nora on the other hand fumes, her right hand clenching and unclenching over her warhammer. "Nora?"

    "Don't worry," Nora smiles in a way that doesn't reach her eyes. "When you lose, I'll forgive you as long as you kiss my feet and apologize from the bottom of your heart."

    "Moron."

    "Bitch."

    Ren clicks his tongue. "Well, I suppose that means yes. Finish your fight quickly."

    Lie Ren steps back. The two of you stare across each other from across the field. Akoúo̱ unhooks itself from your back and Nora swings her hammer onto her shoulder. You take in a relaxed, easy breath.

    You move first.

    You explode forward, Akoúo̱ held far in front of your head like a warhead to your ballistic missile. Lightning crackles and thunder booms as the warhammer previously resting easily upon Nora's shoulder crashes through the air like a falling meteor.

    Fast. But not fast enough. Your eyes track the arc of the falling warhammer and construct the rest of the trajectory instantly. One step to the left puts you out of its range, and her side completely opn. You lunge, spear leaping forward to end this fight before it even begins-

    Your skin prickles. Something isn't right.

    Your instincts scream a warning. You throw yourself sideways, hard, and bring your spear carrying arm up in a triangle guard, aborting your finisher to defend yourself from something- unknown, unseen, and dangerous enough to take you out of the fight. Nora's lips twitch upwards an infinitesimally small amount before the hammer head you so neatly avoided explodes in a waves of concussive force.

    She detonated a dust grenade inside her own weapon while it was mechashifting. Crazy, smart, and not enough.

    You're thrown into the air and skip across packed earth, bouncing along the ground like a ball, shoulders rolling across the ground. Halfway through your love and hate relationship with the ground, you try to right yourself, bleeding momentum with a mid-air pirouette. You manage to catch the earth with the tip of your right foot - and in one smooth motion punch upwards with Akoúo̱, catching Nora's follow up blow before it caves in your chest. Electricity shrieks across Akoúo̱'s surface, your teeth rattle in your mouth, and your limbs near shake off. You force your way free from the overwhelming pressure of her hammer, your feet leaving deep furrows in the ground as her strike rebounds.

    Your chest pounding with exertion, you break into a slow loping jog, circling counterclockwise around the Valkyrie girl, watching her. Lightning races across her skin and bleeds out of her eyes. She's got an easy, casual smile. She thinks she's already won. You note the direction of her gaze.

    She smirks. "First round goes to me, bitch."

    Hasty words. You'll prove them wrong.

    You pace around her, stalking and hungry to show her the folly of her words. You loosen up your left arm, rotating your shoulder slowly to shake out the lingering traces of numbness lingering in your muscles.

    You explode into motion. Your ankles strain and protest, threatening to snap clean off as you violently jerk from side to side, throwing yourself from one foot to the other. Nora's gaze, you notice, is set square on your feet. On your footwork. Her hammer wavers from side to side as she tries to follow your approach. Trying to follow the direction of the oncoming spear thrust. The mark of a trained warrior. Trained, but not experienced.

    Or at least not experienced enough. You throw your shield at her.

    Akoúo̱'s gleaming edge cuts stray hairs off her head as she throws herself back, reacting admirably quick to your unexpected attack. A heartbeat later, you're in her face, Miló thrusting outwards, red spear glinting. She blocks it and you slide under a hasty and sloppy swing meant to fend you off, legs twisting to sweep Nora's feet out from under her. In one smooth action, you spin to your feet and stab downwards. Nora rolls away and your spear slices into nothing but dirt. She pulls herself onto her knees and swings from there, an explosive strike backed by literal explosives.

    You roll under her swing, cartwheeling forward, and plant both feet square into her stomach.

    Precious breath escapes her lips. She flies up into the air, her cry of pain cut off by lack of air. Akoúo̱ makes its return, right into the small of her back. Just as swiftly as she was kicked up, she reverses direction, knocked back into your reach. You lash out with your spear, your faithful companion coming down from above, but somehow the ginger haired girl manages to get her hammer into position again, blocking your strike with the hammer's shaft.

    You adapt. Using the shaft as a pivot, you swing yourself up into the air and come down with an axe kick. Right into the gap between her neck and shoulder. Her body jerks under your blow, stunned.

    Nora impacts the ground with a crash, back first, knocking what little breath she had recovered right back out. You, on the other hand, land gently on your feet. You raise your left arm, as if greeting a crowd and Akoúo̱ snags neatly onto your wrist.

    Paid back in full. And you didn't even need any fancy weapon gimmicks to do it.

    Your opponent shoots back up with a roar and throws herself at you. Hammer comes up. Hammer comes down. An explosion of dust and dirt spouts from the ground as the ground cracks beneath her swing. You feel the impact in your bones as you half leap, half skip out of the way, circling around to come at her back.

    With another roar, she takes another hasty, angry swing at you. But it's fired off much too soon, her hammer loose in her grip. You spot your chance and take it. Instead of letting the hammer swing over your head, in one smooth motion you step in, hook Akoúo̱ under the head and physically rip it out of her grip.

    It falls some distance behind you, cratering the ground where it lands. An explosion punctuates your victory.

    She's defiant to the end, though. Nora takes two steps back, and then leaps into the air, right fist cocked back, left hand outstretched, lightning sparking across her frame in a ridiculously high powered superman punch. You take the blast on your shield and grunt as ringing vibrations force their way up your arm. Without her hammer she's far less strong, but also far faster, digging at your defense like a particular annoying dog. She fires blast after blast into your shield without effect. You take a swing at her with your xiphos and she weaves away, hands held up in a textbox boxing stance.

    Useless. From the moment she was disarmed - the fight was already decided.

    You step forward, an executioner, taking slow meaningful steps forward towards the damned. Nora Valkyrie squares her shoulder, braces her feet, and refuses to give up. A worm of begrudging respect wriggles into your heart. Defiance to the end, that earns her a small-

    A shot rings out behind you.

    You whip your head around to see Lie Ren lowering his weapon, the long spear having produced a pair of torsion limbs and a trigger box. The slowly cooling corpse of a Beowolf is some distance away from you, a crossbow bolt planted square straight in its forehead. Red eyes gleam menacingly in the darkness. One by one they light up until the forest is filled with them, surrounding you.

    The three of you look at each other. Ren speaks first. "We need to go."

    [ ] Run, flee

    [ ] Stand, fight

    [ ] Write in

    QN: Merged both fight variant votes together, and then used the duel subvote to inform the scene. Not sure on how to handle variant votes, so in the future all votes and variant votes get merged, with the variant vote used for detail purposes, unless you specify otherwise.

    Fight was harder than it should have been for Pyrrha due to no dust. Nora has a strong semblance but she doesn't know how to use it to its most effectiveness since brute force can carry her through most situations. In a fight to first blood, Pyrrha has the definite advantage.

    Thanks to @logiccosmic for editing again.
    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 3, 2018 at 8:14 PM, finished with 24 posts and 19 votes.
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    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 3, 2018 at 9:53 PM, finished with 29 posts and 19 votes.
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    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 4, 2018 at 12:50 PM, finished with 45 posts and 29 votes.
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    • Πρωταθλητής 5
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    • Πρωταθλητής 5

    Ahead of you there are Grimm, lurking in the forest. Glowing red eyes aplenty, and surely more to join them. With their strength they can crush villages, lay to waste towns and farmsteads, and slaughter hundreds of normal people. Besides you there are only two juvenile hunters, one of which you have already crushed quite severely.

    Those seem like pretty good odds.

    "Valkyrie," you say conversationally, a bit too casually for the situation you find yourself in. "How fast can you retrieve your hammer?"

    The girl breathes in behind you and huffs slightly, out of breath. "Fifteen seconds- no, ten. Within ten seconds for sure."

    "Lie Ren?"

    "The odds aren't good." The boy clicks his tongue, "But I'll provide fire support."

    That's enough then. You glance at Nora. "Go. I'll cover you."

    The air is thick with tension. You are tense, straining not to fight. Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie are tense, worry and doubt suffusing them. You could posit that even the Grimm were tense, sensing this would be no easy hunt. You stare into the darkness and the darkness stares back, points of blood red hesitant to move closer. All waiting for this frozen moment in time to break.

    Nora breaks into a run for her hammer.

    The moment shatters and cold adrenaline floods your veins. You break into a run.


    The Beowolfs dart towards you, blurs of red and black - so fast that their flesh bleeds into the air and shadowy lines trail behind them. You meet the first one's charge with your own, ebony claws scrabbling against Akoúo̱'s varnished surface as you slip your sword through its ribs and into its heart.

    It dies with a whimper, in its last moments more dog than wolf.

    The corpse has barely slid off your shield before the second is there, driving you back. It lunges for your throat, bone fangs bared. Your shield smashes its mouth, leaving your hand tingling, but the Beowolf tasting bone and metal. Its jaw crunches underneath its mask with a visceral, meaty sound accompanied with a pitiful whine. It falls to the ground, crippled, and you drive Miló's spearpoint through its skull without hesitation.

    It dies at your feet, brains churned into a frothy pulp.

    The third, fourth, fifth are upon you as you pull Miló out of your fallen prey, nipping at your side and flanks. Your sword cuts a red and black arc, mechashifting into a spear as you swing, still slick with steaming Grimm blood. Too late, they learn the folly of their actions. Two fall, and the third darts backwards, its courage daunted by the sudden death of its packmates.

    Wrong move. You twist at the waist and leap into an airborne spin,shield lopping its head cleanly from its shoulders.

    They die too, butchered like cuts of meat.

    Three seconds and five juvenile Beowolfs lay dead at your feet. But as fast as they fall there are yet more to take their places. Bolts fly from behind you, Ren firing as fast as he can. Beowolves die to precise shots, each shot a killshot, but still they come.

    You can't simply hold your ground. Stillness is death. And thus, though seemingly counterintuitive, you charge.

    Your feet fly across grass and dirt and you leap into the air, soaring with red spear outstretched. It punches right through a Beowolfs open hungry maw and spears through it. Two hands and a swing of you spear send it flying clear across its pack as you shrink the spear and bring the shorter xiphos slicing across another Beowolfs throat with an airborne spin. A whirlwind of dust kicks up as you swirl across the dirt, clouding you from sight. One brave Beowolf seeks to break through. You meet it with your shield and a taste of your spear.

    Eight seconds. Two more to go.

    You fling Akoúo̱ like a discus in a backhanded throw. It howls away, a whirling top promising death. A Beowolf leaps up into the air and snatches it from the air, clasping it between ivory fangs, seeking to divest you of valuable equipment. Its jaws clamp upon the beaten bronze in a wretched parody of a dog playing catch. You carve upon its open belly with a swift stroke of your spear, pausing only to snatch Akoúo̱, covered in drool, back from its slobbering mouth. You bring up the shield just in time to fend off the dead Beowulf's friend, charging and mad for revenge.

    The force of the charge throws you back, caught in the transitory state between offense and defense. A whirl of dark murky black, and another Beowolf swirls around to your back, pincering you between the foe to your front and the foe to your back. You shorten your spear to a xiphos and prepare to execute a rather dicey maneuver-

    Twang.

    A crossbow bolt buries itself perpendicularly through the second Beowolf's back. That boy's accuracy is impressive. You lunge forward and bring your knee upward through the first Beowolf's jaw, before separating the top of its head from the rest of it with clean swing straight across its muzzle.

    And that's ten.

    In the blink of an eye, you spin on a heel and snap Akoúo̱ onto your back before…. running away, fleeing into the distance. The wolves nip at your back but do not pursue. Plantative growls of confusion and caution echoe from their maws. They don't trust that this isn't a feint to lead them into a trap.

    Their mistake.

    "Look out below!" a boisterous voice hollers above you. Explosions envelope the air behind you as the pump action grenade launcher in Nora's hands gets to work. Dust and heat bracket you, and you put on more speed, just barely outracing the fringes of the explosions nipping your heels

    The Beowolves are tougher foes than that, however. They are not slain so easily. Relentless, the lupine Grimm follow you, bloodied and hurt by the rain of explosions falling upon their heads, but not felled. Little by little, their lupine gait eats up any distance you gain, catching up to your heels. You roll into a forward tumble, shield snapping back onto your left hand, and right hand coming up with spear. The first wolf comes lunging for the back of your neck, hoping to catch you in a brief moment of perceived weakness.

    It gets a hammer to the face instead.

    You frown. You could have handled that.

    "I didn't need you to help me," you say, traces of annoyance in your voice. You fling another charging Beowolf off to the side with a swing of your shield and bury Miló up to its stomach, spraying hot blood up to your wrist.

    "Did you grow up with Beowolves? You lack any and all grace," Nora says in an insufferably haughty tone of voice as she throws up another Beowolf with raw strength, and then crushes it with a full on swing of her hammer.

    One last Beowulf pauses, to look at its surroundings. Its fellows litter the forest floor, crushed, cut and shot. It looks at you, and looks at Nora, and begins to slowly edge back. A crossbow bolt shoots straight between the two of you. It buries itself head deep into the Beowolf's skull, and the Grimm collapses, dead before it hits the ground.

    "Thanks Ren," Nora and you mutter at the same time, before shooting each other matching glares. She thinks she can imitate you, huh?

    "You're both welcome," the dark haired boy says, dropping down from the tree in which he made his perch. He walks in between you, to his kill, and pulls the arrowhead out from the shattered bone remnants of the Beowolf's mask.

    Nora pouts. You click your tongue.

    "Ren, your betrayal stabs into my heart." Nora complains melodramatically. You sigh at her actions. You're standing in an active battlefield. Could she save her antics for an appropriate place? If not, you could always remind her of the conclusion of your little spat.

    By which you mean you utterly crushed her.

    "Perhaps if you are done, Valkyrie, we might focus on what's ahead of us," you say pointedly. "I would like to remind you that are not quite done yet."

    Far from you, lying in the back of the killing floor you've formed from its packmates, one of the Beowolves you've felled struggles to its feet, battered and heavily injured by Nora's grenades but not yet slain. Its haunches bleed and its gait is unsteady, but it still rises. Its red eyes pass over the carpet of bodies that you've strewn before it, and a low mournful growl passes from its throat. It raises its throat and howls at the sky.

    The sound echoes through the forests and trees, but you hunters have slain everything nearby that could have heard it.

    Then it brings its head back around and smashes it against the ground. One small crack slithers it way down the center of its bleached white bone mask. It smashes its head again. Another crack. One more time.

    The third crack comes, and with a fourth and final act of self mutilation, the mask shatters. Shadows explode out of the Beowolf's slender frame as it loses structure and definition. Thin strings of shadow stuff snags a hold of fallen Beowolf corpses and drags them into the ball of quickly growing mass of shadows. Legs, snout, tail jut out of the darkness, taking form from the misty darkness. A Grimm wolf, twice your height and wearing a funeral mask of white, bleached bone streaked with tears. You don't even come up to it's shoulder. It stares at you with glowing, mournful yellow eyes.

    It coughs once, and from its hacking throat falls a sword of pitch ebony. It picks it up in its jaw, holding the blade horizontally. Its claws flex, lengthening until they short swords of their own, and it lets out a blood curdling roar.

    Greater Grimm. Sifjar. The Grimm of grief, destroyed families, and broken bonds.

    Your raise your weapons once more. Now, the real battle begins.

    [ ] Form a battleplan.

    QN: This update has taken way too long and we're not even halfway done with initiation yet. This isn't even a level boss, it's like a midboss.

    Thanks to @logiccosmic for editing as always.

    You should have all the information you need to make a coherent battle plan at this point, but I'll give you a little bit extra anyways. Sifjar is powerful Greater Grimm, which mostly attacks with its sword but also has the ability to turn shed pieces of its body into sword projectiles. Ren's bolt thrower/spear has another alternate form (well it has like THIRTY but they're not really relevant right now) which sacrifices precision for raw density of firepower. Nora can also fire lightning at range, but could not utilize this during your duel as it is PRETTY LETHAL.

    Remember that fellow players are a resource to be mined for ideas. If you can't think of anything try reading some discussion and building off of that.
    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 7, 2018 at 12:18 PM, finished with 65 posts and 35 votes.
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    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 7, 2018 at 12:19 PM, finished with 16 posts and 4 votes.
    • [X] "Nora, flank. Ren, shoot." Then we (Pyrrha) charge!
      [X] "Nora, flank. Ren, shoot." Then we charge!
      [X] Nora go around the side and break it's legs. Ren help me keep it occupied with your gun, shoot any shards. We'll keep it busy
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    • Πρωταθλητής 6

    "Ren," you command, seizing control of the situation. "I need you on the crossbow and providing covering fire. Pin down the eyes and take any shot you can see at the joints. I want to pin down its movement and mobility."

    Ren glances at you out of the corner of his eyes. He has an unreadable look, but falls in line. "Roger."

    "Nora," you shift your attention to the erstwhile Valkyrie. "Get in its flanks and hurt it."

    "Do you want a target?" The girl twirls her warhammer, letting it fall onto her shoulder, featherlight. "Shoulder, head, jaw?"

    "Legs," you say. "Break them first. Then hit anything that looks like it hurts."

    Nora smiles a vicious grin. "Will do."

    You turn and watch, observing the Sifjar's movements as you wait. It sways from left to right, the giant cracked and pitted sword in its mouth swinging ever so slowly as it sways. It stares at your group steadily - slit lupine eyes flickering from hunter to hunter.

    Its eyes slide onto you and you charge, shot like a javelin from your own hand. The ground crumbles in the wake of your passing.

    The Sifjar responds with sheer blind speed. It swings its sword, and from cracks down its tang sprays a flurry of ebony slivers. Toothpicks to the Great Grimm Wolf but the size of swords to you. You throw yourself sideways. Three of them shoot past your legs, right where you had been a second ago. Another ricochets off your shield, shattering into a cloud of razor sharp fragments that rattle against the bronze like hailstones as you press through it.

    You ignore them as you close in, using shards dug deep into the ground as springboards as you leap at the Sifjar's head. Bolts whirr past you, seeking the wolf's eyes, Ren laying down a fusillade of fire at your back.

    But there's a reason that the Sifjar is called a Greater Grimm - and not only because it can not be slain true. Intelligent eyes see you approaching, shield held up and xiphos shifting to spear at your side, and ducks away. Bolts break upon its thick hide as it turns away Ren's fire.

    You break onto open ground, pursuing, as the wolf twists with an agility belying its size. You are forced to desperately leap back as a pawful of sword length claws swipe at you, wolf uncoiling from its retreat to attack once more. You stab halfheartedly at the paws, but they're a poor compensation indeed compared to the vulnerable target of its skull. Still though, the red edge of Miló catches flesh. Rough, thick, and weathered, it resists your spear, and the quill-like fur is only briefly marred with cuts that heal as quickly as they form, leaving absolutely no trace of your efforts in the first place.

    Greater Grimm are such a pain to fight.

    You land with light steps, and explode forward, your feet barely touching base earth. You narrowly outrace another swipe of razor claws and abandon the killing strike at the head to go for an easier target instead.

    The Sifjar tries to draw back again, but it can not follow through on its attack and withdraw faster than you can charge. You carve deep ragged slashes down its stomach.

    It roars, leaps back and tries to smash you with its sword.

    Time slows for you as you leap aside - massive blade rending earth from mud and rock from stone as it carves through the earth. It passes by your nose with mere feather lengths, your dodge is very very close. You reach one hand out towards the polished ebony surface.

    Κολλώ

    Your hand glows white with Aura, the pure condensed stuff of heroism, and locks and clings to the blade as if they were one. You dig feet onto the blade as well, and then with a grunt and with heroic effort stand up and run the length of the blade.

    Vertically. Defying gravity, logic, and rules.

    You leap up into the air at the apex in a leap of faith, too close now for the wolf to draw away. You spear lashes out, with just enough length to catch flesh. The edge of Miló's tip carves a thick bleeding cut - just below the ear,sending thick sheets of blood cascading down the wolf's face.

    If that isn't distraction enough you have no idea what would be. As you fall back to earth you roar, "Noraaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

    The sound and pressure of an explosion against the Sifjar's side is Nora's response to your cry. The Valkyrie has taken her sweet time, but she has finally come with the force of the storm.

    You land on your feet and charge right back into the fray, xiphos lashing out in short quick strokes in your hand.

    Like a fine tuned machine you and Nora double team the Sifjar. As it melts away, you charge into its face, spear lashing out in thin shallow cuts, superficial but attention consuming, pinning it and keeping it focused on you. Around its flank and outside of its vision, Nora rounds the edges. An explosion to its side, an explosion on its flank, rapid hammer strikes fired in and out before it can react. Its sides are scraped raw and bloody and although the Sifjar manages to protect its legs well enough, it bleeds copiously from its flank.

    It is a deadly combination, enough to bring any lesser Grimm to its knees. But Sifjar is no lesser Grimm.

    It is a Greater Grimm, its mask carved into the myths and legends of humanity itself. Even in this most base incarnation it cannot be slain by mere trainee hunters.

    It waits and watches, accepting blow upon blow, intelligent yellow eyes ignoring your attacks, hunting for an opportunity. Nora lingers for a moment too long around the edges, and you are too caught up in the fight. Just for a second you forget.

    Nora is strong, but she is no four time Mistral Champion. She is not you.

    Sifjar whirls in a blur of motion, pivoting on a single leg, carefully protected until now, maw-held bone dagger tearing through the air. Your shield comes up and you roll away, but the strike isn't for you. The edge of the bone blade crashes into Nora side with a hideous screeching bang, and you hear a wet, pulpy, almost palpable crunch sound before she's flung clear across the clearing, skidding to a halt through a trench of dirt.

    Two voices yell out simultaneously. "Nora!" Yours and Ren's. You break for the fallen girl, racing the Greater Grimm for Nora, trying to get there before it. It's a valiant attempt, but even you cannot outpace a lupine Greater Grimm in full racing pace.

    Little by little it outpaces you. It will reach the fallen Valkyrie before you. You watch it pull away, and your mind flies to your spear, your javelin. If you throw it…

    You'll be left without a weapon and with the wolf's full attention on you, but if you don't you'll be left with a dead girl.

    The choice is clear. Your shoulder pulls back, your arm twists, javelin in hand-

    And another spear gets there first. Ren's spear, throw with pinpoint accuracy lands right in front of Nora's prone form, and a bubble of dust blue expands outward as the butt of the spear unfolds to reveal some sort of complicated technological contraption. The boy himself is not far behind his spear, hands empty and heading straight on a collision course with the Sifjar.

    The Grimm snarls, flings its bone blade at the bubble shield, which cracks but holds, and lunges for the unarmed boy. Ren leaps into the air, and thrusts with an open palm.

    Boom. An explosion echoes forth and he slams an open hand into the Sifjar's nose.

    And it is the wolf that is thrown away.

    You watch it fly over your head as you run past it for Nora's side. The Grimm flies through the air, barely snagging a foodhold as it touches down upon the ground, gravity reasserting its hold on the beast, and you reevaluate your opinion on Lie Ren upwards.

    You have to admit. You're impressed.

    You roll into a defensive position by Nora's side and Ren is already there, unpeeling her armor and checking her side. The girl herself has crawled to a sitting position and crackles with electricity that turns Ren's fingers red and pulsing with blood. The boy doesn't seem to care. He looks up at you.

    "She's alright," he tells you quickly, crouched by the girl's side. You listen keenly, shield and spear braced in case the Sifjar wants to take another crack at finishing off its wounded prey, but the wolf seems content enough to simply circle around the three of you from a distance. "Armor took most of the hit. Ribs bruised, shoulder was dislocated, but nothing serious."

    "Yes," Nora says, eyes unleashed to full and sparking so much that even the hairs on your skin light up. "When I get back up I shall slay-"

    "No you aren't," Ren immediately countermands. Nora's glare is a laserbeam, but Ren dodges it with an easy, practiced motion. "That's going to take at least two, three hours to heal, even with Aura at full blast."

    "I can compensate-"

    "And get yourself more injured," Ren interrupts her, in no mood to argue. He turns to look at you. "We're going to need to withdraw."

    Withdraw. The word drives into your head. You don't like the sound of it. You've never run from a fight before.

    You study the two of them. Nora is dead weight, a burden on the battlefield, now. "Can you take Nora?"

    The question puts him off. He studies your face, searching for your intent. "I can," he nods but hesitates. "You're not thinking of staying, are you?"

    You don't say anything, still thinking.

    His lips tighten. "Pyrrha, don't do anything stupid."

    [ ] Maximize your semblance and slay the Sifjar. (Burn out to full)

    [ ] Surrender the fight and withdraw with Ren. (Conserve energy)

    [ ] Do something stupid (Write in)

    QN: As always I carefully edited out all the memes @logiccosmic attempted to surreptitiously insert into the quest behind my back while I wasn't looking after he kindly agreed to edit it.

    I'll be honest, this update is partially a result of Πρωταθλητής 4, when you guys chose to stay and fight rather than run. Choosing to stay at that point was essentially willingly throwing yourselves onto the hard mode path- the consequences of which you see here. Since I'm not a sadist, I didn't choose to heavily injure one of your party members in what is essentially the tutorial arc, but though Pyrrha's skill at arms is indeed great, she alone cannot solve all problems with her spear. Fighting a river is cool and all, but perhaps sometimes it is better just to go around it.

    Additionally, though it was never actually specifically pointed out given that I left you all with an open ended vote, doing a gradual retreat was also an option when the Sifjar first appeared. Running away is in many cases, an option, as the Beacon professors will attempt to repeatedly hammer into your head at a later point in time.
     
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    • Πρωταθλητής 7
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    • Πρωταθλητής 7

    Shame burns in your gut. It galls you to quit the field of battle. Never before have you relinquished victory. The trophy of your labor is almost in your grasp and to throw it away, in that moment when you seize it?

    You cannot do it.

    It is this foolish stubbornness that keeps you lingering on the field for a few moments longer, trying to calculate the best approach to kill the Sifjar, even without allies and without dust. Plots and plans come to mind, the myriad ways to approach the Sifjar's defeat. To crush it, on your lonesome, and slay it to vindicate yourself. No interruptions, no assistance from meddlers. Just you and your prey.

    It would require all of your skill and would leave you exhausted. But you could do it.. You wouldn't have to withdraw. This fight would still prove something. Prove that you were strong. .

    "I'm not going to withdraw," someone says, and you are surprised to find it's not you. "I'll see that wolf dead."

    It's Nora. Injured Nora. Nora, bloody and wounded, standing on her last legs.

    And it's there, in that moment, that you realize that it's about more than you.

    It's a bitter pill to swallow. You stubbornly want to refuse the call, that you must give in, but… There is more at stake that just you. More than just your own glory. The mission is at stake. While you are stubborn and prideful and wrathful and flawed in ways you will refuse to admit to anyone, not even yourself…

    You have not only the pride of a champion - but also that of a hunter. And you refuse to fail your mission.

    "You're not," you tell Nora through grit teeth. You force the words out. It's like tearing out your own heart. "None of us. We're withdrawing. Ren, protect our rear."

    "Understood." The boy steps forward and with a yank and a twist, pulls his spear out of the ground and returns it to his shoulder. The Sifjar stirs from where it watches you, but it keeps its distance.

    You sling Miló and Akoúo̱ onto your back and step forward to scoop Nora into your arms in a classic princess carry. She doesn't resist, but as you lean your head down she leans up and whispers in your ear. Her hoarse breath is warm against your ear.

    "Do you not seek the Sifjar's death as well?"

    You do. You can't say you don't. Your heart burns with the desire to return to the fight, and claim the victory you earned.

    You don't tell her that. You don't tell her about the shame you feel at this loss. You don't tell that you, almost blame her for it. Instead you counter with another question. "If it were Ren who was wounded, and not you, would you flee?"

    Nora's face twists. You recognize it. That look on her face. She's willing to throw herself into danger, but when it comes to those truly dear to her heart she's much more reluctant.

    It's a familiar look. A familiar feeling.

    Her arms wrap around her warhammer, transformed back into a grenade launcher, and she does not say another word. Now, as you retreat, you much prefer the silence. You don't want to reflect on this anymore.

    You pad smoothly across the ground, making sure your hold on Nora is tight and secure before bursting into a sprint. Nora, cradled within your arms, is barely jostled by the quick and jolting movements over open ground. You hear feet shifting across ground behind you, Ren carefully making sure that the Sifjar does not advance towards you with your injured cargo, before he follows you as well.

    To your relief- accompanied by disappointment in equal measure, the Sifjar does not follow. If he followed, you would have been hard pressed to defend Ren and Nora, but you would have had an excuse to continue the fight. Now there is only the retreat.

    The three of you escape quietly, feet whispering across the ground despite your haste. Not a word is spoken between any of you three. You still burn with the unspoken humiliation of having been forced to quit the field. The experience burns white hot in your craw. You run along silently for several minutes before you realize that you have absolutely no idea where you're going.

    It's somewhat obvious in hindsight, you burst into the forest with only the vaguest idea of what direction in which to head, and after several fights, you have completely lost even that initial bearing you started with. Thus, loathe as you are to acknowledge it, you are completely and utterly lost.

    Well, not entirely lost. You just need some bearings, and then you can find your way without further assistance.

    You chew on your words as you consider a way to broach the topic. "Where were the two of you headed before?"

    Nora sulks in your arms.

    "The Ruins." Ren says. He speeds up his pace a bit to overtake you. "If you don't know the way, I can lead."

    "Of course I know the way." You bluff. Even you'd have to admit, it is a somewhat unconvincing bluff. Something clasped to your bosom titters a bit but you give it a rough shake and it punches you in the arm and the two of you glare at each other before turning away.

    "Okay, you know the way." Ren replies in a flat tone. "Do you want to lead, then?"

    Stubborn pride wars with practicality once more. You wrestle with your answer for a few moments before you remember that if you try to lead and don't know the way you'll just end up looking stupid, anyways.

    "I'll let you lead." You magnanimously grant him the privilege. "You seem inclined to it anyway."

    By the time you have reached your destination the sun has passed its apogee and is on a downward descent, soon after which its light will fade and dusk will be upon you. Ren pushes aside a few branches ahead of him then freezes. You stop behind him.

    "What?" You and Nora ask of him simultaneously. "Why have you stopped" and "Are we there?" duel with each other for space in dialogue.

    Ren does not reply. He only stares out at what he sees, apparently dumbstruck, or so far as you can make out from his expressions. Nora sighs in your arms, and pushes you away as she slides out of your grasp. She lands on her feet with an easy daintiness and hops lightly in the air a few times as she shakes out her legs.

    ...if she could walk, why were you carrying her?

    "I thought your side hurt," you point out with just a trace of annoyance.

    "It did." She turns to look back at you with a smug smirk. "Like a hour ago. But you seemed to be having such a fun time of it I didn't want to run your fun."

    ...you'll let her off for that one. But only because you're too tired from hauling someone's extremely heavy behind across half of the Emerald Forest.

    "You're fat," you tell her without any fanfare as you step up to take a look at what has surprised Ren, so. A wild forest animal makes an angry noise behind you as you pass Nora by but you ignore it.

    The sight in front of you is too strange to bother with that.

    A literal tent city is set up in front of you. You can spot trainees having set up lean-tos, tarp tents, and other various forms of shelter. It's normal to construct such shelters when you're expecting a long stay, of course, but this is just the initiation exam. It's a simple search a retrieval. They should have the relics in hand and be out before the next dawn.

    You can spot trainees hustling and bustling among themselves, trading dust and supplies. You can even smell the faint aroma of meat being roasted over open fires. Is this a base camp?

    What is going on?

    [ ] March forward and towards the relics. The sight may be bizarre but it does not change the fact that the relics are your primary concern. If everyone else has held back for whatever strange reason, it merely means that you will have the first opportunity to take your pick.

    [ ] Take advantage of the tent city to refuel your supplies of dust through trading, and potentially pick up on the local scuttlebutt as well. If the challenge ahead of you is so difficult that the other initiates have felt the need to step up a cap to prepare you want to be fully equipped and supplied.

    [ ] Is that a flash of gold and red you see? The sisters you met earlier from before have arrived before you as well- wait, is that the banner boy?! Oh, if he knows what's good for him he'll stay right there. You're going over to interrogate him for all he's worth. How did he meet the Rose sisters? How did he know where to go? And most importantly how in the goddess's name did he get there before you?

    [ ] Stick and Ren and Nora for now. At this point it might just be social inertia but you feel like they're… acceptable to stay in your presence.

    [ ] Find a tent and go brood about having been beaten to the punch

    [ ] Write in

    QN: THANKS LOGIC

    NOW PLEASE WRITE YOUR OWN QUEST AT REASONABLE TIMES INSTEAD OF LIKE AT 3 IN THE MORNING

    Anyway, going to start making OC teams now to fill in like the xteen other teams that we never ever see in RWBY because there are only 16 students in the entire school. If you have any ideas feel free to throw them into the pot.
    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 15, 2018 at 12:49 AM, finished with 33 posts and 26 votes.
    • [X] Stick and Ren and Nora for now. At this point it might just be social inertia but you feel like they're… acceptable to stay in your presence.
      [X] Is that a flash of gold and red you see? The sisters you met earlier from before have arrived before you as well- wait, is that the banner boy?! Oh, if he knows what's good for him he'll stay right there. You're going over to interrogate him for all he's worth. How did he meet the Rose sisters? How did he know where to go? And most importantly how in the goddess's name did he get there before you?
      [X] Take advantage of the tent city to refuel your supplies of dust through trading, and potentially pick up on the local scuttlebutt as well. If the challenge ahead of you is so difficult that the other initiates have felt the need to step up a cap to prepare you want to be fully equipped and supplied.
      -[x] Drag Nora (and through her Ren) along with you.
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 15, 2018 at 6:12 PM, finished with 49 posts and 34 votes.
    • [X] Stick and Ren and Nora for now. At this point it might just be social inertia but you feel like they're… acceptable to stay in your presence.
      [X] Is that a flash of gold and red you see? The sisters you met earlier from before have arrived before you as well- wait, is that the banner boy?! Oh, if he knows what's good for him he'll stay right there. You're going over to interrogate him for all he's worth. How did he meet the Rose sisters? How did he know where to go? And most importantly how in the goddess's name did he get there before you?
      [X] Is that a flash of gold and red you see? The sisters you met earlier from before have arrived before you as well- wait, is that the banner boy?! Oh, if he knows what's good for him he'll stay right there. You're going over to interrogate him for all he's worth. How did he meet the Rose sisters? How did he know where to go? And most importantly how in the goddess's name did he get there before you?
      -[x] Drag Nora (and through her Ren) along with you.
      [X] Take advantage of the tent city to refuel your supplies of dust through trading, and potentially pick up on the local scuttlebutt as well. If the challenge ahead of you is so difficult that the other initiates have felt the need to step up a cap to prepare you want to be fully equipped and supplied.
      [X] Find a tent and go brood about having been beaten to the punch
      [X] Is that a flash of gold and red you see? The sisters you met earlier from before have arrived before you as well- wait, is that the banner boy?! Oh, if he knows what's good for him he'll stay right there. You're going over to interrogate him for all he's worth. How did he meet the Rose sisters? How did he know where to go? And most importantly how in the goddess's name did he get there before you?
      -[x] Drag Nora (and through her Ren) along with you. ​
      [X] Stick with Ren and Nora for now. At this point it might just be social inertia but you feel like they're… acceptable to stay in your presence.
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 15, 2018 at 6:13 PM, finished with 49 posts and 34 votes.
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 15, 2018 at 8:17 PM, finished with 56 posts and 35 votes.
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 16, 2018 at 4:31 PM, finished with 58 posts and 35 votes.
    • [X] Stick and Ren and Nora for now. At this point it might just be social inertia but you feel like they're… acceptable to stay in your presence.
      [X] Is that a flash of gold and red you see? The sisters you met earlier from before have arrived before you as well- wait, is that the banner boy?! Oh, if he knows what's good for him he'll stay right there. You're going over to interrogate him for all he's worth. How did he meet the Rose sisters? How did he know where to go? And most importantly how in the goddess's name did he get there before you?
      [X] Is that a flash of gold and red you see? The sisters you met earlier from before have arrived before you as well- wait, is that the banner boy?! Oh, if he knows what's good for him he'll stay right there. You're going over to interrogate him for all he's worth. How did he meet the Rose sisters? How did he know where to go? And most importantly how in the goddess's name did he get there before you?
      -[x] Drag Nora (and through her Ren) along with you.
      [X] Take advantage of the tent city to refuel your supplies of dust through trading, and potentially pick up on the local scuttlebutt as well. If the challenge ahead of you is so difficult that the other initiates have felt the need to step up a cap to prepare you want to be fully equipped and supplied.
      [X] Find a tent and go brood about having been beaten to the punch
      [X] Is that a flash of gold and red you see? The sisters you met earlier from before have arrived before you as well- wait, is that the banner boy?! Oh, if he knows what's good for him he'll stay right there. You're going over to interrogate him for all he's worth. How did he meet the Rose sisters? How did he know where to go? And most importantly how in the goddess's name did he get there before you?
      -[x] Drag Nora (and through her Ren) along with you. ​
      [X] Stick with Ren and Nora for now. At this point it might just be social inertia but you feel like they're… acceptable to stay in your presence.
    Click to expand...
     
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    • Πρωταθλητής 8

    Your gaze flicks from interest point to interest point. A pair of white and black haired girls, a gang of three knights and a rather scared scout, a somewhat bombastic trio of shady characters complete with a red haired pirate, some jock mechanic kid and his machine-like pets, a lion mane of golden hair-

    Wait.

    You focus back on the lion's mane. It glints soft gold in the firelight. Yang Xiao-Long. You recall her distinctly from before the initiation when you had that little conversation with her and her little sister, Ruby. That girl is there too, more than two thirds of her body hidden behind a rich scarlet cloak, just as before. They both appear uninjured and fresh unlike you and your bedraggled party. They're sitting around a campfire, Yang looking on amusedly while Ruby chats animatedly to-

    You're going over there.

    Branches and leaves are violently crushed in your wake as you storm out of the brushes, abandoning your cover at a furious pace. You stomp ahead several meters before you remember your companions. With an annoyed look on your face, you turn back. Nora's moved up to occupy your former position, but Ren is still just standing there, just with eyes on you rather than the camp now.

    "What are you waiting for?" You ask tersely. "Come on."

    "Come on… where?" Ren's brows knit together in an confused expression.

    Nora wrinkles her nose. "You can't simply expect us to follow you without a word of explanation."

    They're blind, aren't they? You can't think of any other reason they'd be so obtuse. An exasperated sigh escapes your lips. Yet again you lower yourself to enlighten your lessers on the obvious. Truly, burdens of the mighty. "Do you remember the boy who took a head start over everyone else?"

    "...yes?" Ren cocks his head at you, still not understanding.

    "I saw him over there." You jerk your thumb in the direction of the camp. "Going to go ask him about a few things."

    It takes a few moments, but you see understanding dawn on Nora's face. She rushes over to your side. You've got to admit that girl is overly egotistical and is too arrogant by far, but at least she understands the important things. She takes a few steps forward, and then turns back too, just like you had before. "Ren, what are you waiting for?"

    "An explanation?" Ren replies in an even more confused tone. "Why are we going over there again?"

    You and Nora both sigh exasperatedly.

    "Ren, she saw that boy who started early during initiation."

    "I told you Ren, I saw that boy who started early during initiation."

    Both you and Nora patiently explain the relevant details to him once more. Ren still doesn't seem to get it which is quite strange to you because in the privacy of your own mind, you had always considered him to be the smarter one between him and Nora.

    "Ren just come," Nora commands, exasperated. With a roll of his eyes the quiet boy comes plodding over. The exchange is familiar enough that you expect that the two of them must have done it before.

    You and Nora cut through the camp with purpose, Ren trailing behind. One of the shady looking trio you spotted before, this one dressed in a heavy coat that obscures everything but his cap-with-a-feather clad head, attempts to waylay you with offers of ration packets and dust but you brush him aside easily. His prices are exorbitant and you have places to be and things to do, and no time to spend bargaining his prices down to what they should really be.

    Yang spots you before the other two do, as they are caught up in scratching something in the dirt and arguing over it. The golden haired girl walks up to greet you, smile on her face. You nod cordially back at her. You have no issues with her.

    It's the other blond you're going to beat until he coughs up some answers.

    "Hey Nikos," she says with a wave. "I see you've found some friends, yeah?"

    "Xiao Long, this is Ren." You introduce the black haired boy. He inclines his head slightly. "And Nora." The ginger girl flexes her right bicep. Yang stifles a laugh. "We met in the forest and fought some Grimm together."

    "Seems like it took you awhile. We were half afraid you weren't going to show up."

    Ah. You manage to control the unpleasant feeling that threatens to bubble onto your face from deep inside your gut. She just had to poke at that sore point didn't she?

    "Well," you manage to grit out through a somewhat mangled looking smile. "I wasn't expecting to run into so many Elder Grimm and Greater Grimm in the forest."

    It's not an excuse. You don't give excuses.

    It's an explanation. A clear difference that you intent to impart on anyone (by force if necessary) who gets the wrong impression.

    "Greater Grimm? Really?" Yang sounds impressed. She should be impressed. "I thought the Emerald Forest seemed pretty tame. I guess it's more dangerous than I thought it was if you can encounter stuff like that in the forest."

    "Yeah, it was pretty bad," Nora pipes up. "Fortunately, me and Ren-" Ren and I, you correct her idly in your head. "-were there to save her from the Nevermore."

    Oh.

    Oh.

    She didn't just go there. Again. You literally just had a duel to settle this matter and yet it seems like she has learned utterly nothing from the whole endeavor. You spin on your heel and turn on the oath breaking Valkyrie.

    "As I told you," you enunciate every word extremely clearly. "I did not need your help at all. The Nevermore was wounded and I was about to land a killing blow on it. We have established this point of order already."

    Nora makes an extremely exaggerated put out motion. "Even now, I receive no gratitude from saving you."

    There was nothing for which to be grateful for!

    You hear a noise like someone's be strangled from the side and snap your head around to catch an eyeful of Yang trying to stifle her laughter. She manages to swallow the noises bubbling up from her chest and looks up with the smuggest smirk you've ever seen. "Sorry, sorry," she says in a tone that clearly isn't sorry at all. "Go on."

    That part about not having an issue with her? You are beginning to reconsider that.

    "Yet I carried you away from the Greater Grimm so if there is any debt, which there is not-" you interrupt yourself to make this point very clear. "-is more than settled."

    "I-"

    "More than settled." You repeat yourself one last time to put this argument to death once and for all and then quickly turn to Yang to plant the tombstone on its grave. "And how have you and your sister been?"

    "Hm? Us?" Yang wobbles her hand in the air. "You know. Alright. We pushed through the forest pretty fine, we didn't see any Elder Grimm or Greater Grimm so we had a pretty easy go of it. Made it here before anyone else did. Like next guy to arrive, banner boy over there, only got here like a full twenty minutes after us. We're kind of stalled on the next portion of the test, though. It, well…"

    She licks her lips a few times and shrugs. You can't help but notice how red and glossy her lips are. "Well, it'll be easier if I just get Ruby to explain it. You all coming with?"

    Ren looks at Nora, and some sort of silent communication passes between the two friends before Nora smiles widely. "Sure," the girl says.

    Yang motions for the three of you to follow her. As you approach Ruby, you can hear bits and pieces of her conversation with her newfound friend - her newfound friend you intend to interrogate.

    "Even if I get past her, there's no way I'll be able to carry enough back for the whole team to pass. I have to bypass her and get back, you know. The guardians have to go down."

    "If the guardians go down, you won't be able to get past her guard. And the only way she's going to let you back is if you beat her."

    "Mmm, you're right. I feel like there's something we're miss- oh, Yang's back!" The scarlet cloaked girl spots her sister and leaps up to her feet. Her eyes light up even further when she spots you behind Yang. "Oh! Pyrrha!"

    You hold up a single fist like you used to do after arena victories and are immediately latched onto by the red clad girl. Her arms wrap around your waist in a suction tight clamp and she squeezes for all she's worth- which turns out to be quite weakly. You let her hug away and look towards Yang, who on her part simply shrugs.

    This feels distinctly familiar.

    The hug doesn't last long; Ruby lets you go after a few moments and you watch her flush just as red as her cloak as she realizes what she just did. "O-oh," she stutters. "Um, sorry about that. I just, I uh-"

    "It's fine," you brush it off. You don't mind. Overeager fans are not something you're strange to and besides, the kid's cute. That lets her get away with a lot.

    Besides, you have bigger things on your mind. You gently push Ruby aside and stomp up to the banner holding boy sitting there, watching your little display. You stare down at him imperiously, the glint of challenge in your eye. "Do you know who I am?"

    Up close the boy looks abnormally placid and his expression is calm and relaxed even as you barge into his face. Perhaps he doesn't get your note of challenge. Or maybe he's just stupid. He glances at your face and over at Ruby.

    "Oh, yeah Jaune, this is Pyrrha Nikos!" Ruby lights up as she misses your intent completely and introduces you to her newfound friend. "She's really good at fighting and she won the Mistral Championships four times in a row."

    The banner boy- the Jaune- smiles cheerfully. "Oh, that's great! Congratulations."

    He reaches out a hand for you to shake which you ignore completely. "It's nice to meet you Pyrrha. My name's Jaune Arc."

    Arc. The name rings bells in your head. One of the few Vale aristos families you bothered to remember and one of the few that are still relevant after the death of their king. You know just enough about them.

    Just enough to know that the boy's story doesn't add up. Your eyes narrow.

    "That's funny," you say deceptively casually, like you're just mentioning the day's weather in casual conversation rather than cross examining the boy's story. "I wasn't aware that Jacob Arc had a son. I was under the impression that he intended to send all seven of his daughters to Sanctum."

    "That was the plan." Jaune nods. You can hear Yang whisper something to Ruby behind you. You brush it off as unimportant. "I'm… somewhat of a family failure. My father neglected to send me to combat school. I shouldn't be here at all."

    "Yet here you are."

    "Yet here I am," the boy agrees. His smile is a little less solid now. More queasy. "I, well, it was a bit of a lucky break. I passed the Tarots entrance examination and the Headmaster agreed to allow me a spot in the year's examination."

    "Well, you seem to have done well." The fake pleasantries slip their way out of your mouth. "That early start at the beginning of the exam caught us all by surprise. You didn't even bother listening to the rest of the headmaster's instructions, yet you made it here so quickly. What's your secret?"

    "Yeah!" Nora pipes up behind you. You'd almost forgot she was listening to this conversation. "What's your secret?"

    "Er, well…" Jaune licks his lips nervously and his pupils narrow to points. His lips move so slightly that you can't read off them and he goes trancelike for a single heartbeat.

    Just for a moment. Then he's back.

    "It's, uh, my semblance?" he offers, like he hadn't just completely switched off for a second there. "I'm good at finding places."

    If you lick the air, you might be able to taste it. The taste of a liar.

    That boy is hiding something.

    [ ] Dig deeper into his so called 'semblance'. You're going to ferret out what he's hiding, no matter how hard he tries to conceal it.

    [ ] He mentioned Ozpin and the Tarot Examination. Interrogate him about that. You'll be better able to find out what his secret is if you dig peripherally.

    [ ] ...you'll let him keep his secrets. For now. Move on and ask him how me met Ruby and Yang. You doubt he'll reveal anything more anyways.

    [ ] All this is wasting time. Move on the big point that Yang mentioned, how they're all stalled on the next part of initiation. If the boy passes, you'll have four years to discover his secrets anyways.

    [ ] Write in.

    QN: Logic did some minor editing work, and attempted to turn Jaune from remnant!French to remnant!Spanish.

    In other news I'm going to set out how the voting in this quest goes. How votes affect scenes if more along focuses and priorities rather than a clear cut option by option. By putting in a vote option, you're putting priority on a specific option. Subvotes add subpriorities, which are subordinated to the initial vote when writing a scene. This set of foci is then further altered by what I read in discussion.
    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 18, 2018 at 8:12 PM, finished with 46 posts and 26 votes.
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by Jemnite on Mar 18, 2018 at 10:10 PM, finished with 48 posts and 27 votes.
    Click to expand...
     
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