A/N: Hello folks, my name is Old Wolf Logan with a little something new for my fellow RWBY fans. This is my first multi-part fan-fic and it's something I've wanted to do for a while now. Just imagine the core characters of RWBY, along with select side characters, in the world of Warhammer Fantasy Battles (I know the universe is technically dead, but then again, fuck The End Times). Don't expect any ships to develop immediately (except for Arkos, because Jaune deserves a fucking win already) but it is possible in the future. If you don't know much about Warhammer Fantasy, I am more than happy to do explanatory filler chapters when necessary. If you enjoy this, please sure to follow, favorite, and leave a review, if you want.
Please keep in mind that certain details will be changed in order to keep with the canon of both universes as best I can.
Finally, this chapter is designed to be like the original trailers from 2013, so it will be somewhat short.
Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit fan-fiction. RWBY is owned by Rooster Teeth, LLC, and Warhammer Fantasy Battles is owned by Games Workshop Group, PLC.
Smaller Souls and Greater Evils
Prologue
The Old World stands at a precipice.
The marauding forces of Chaos are over-running the human nation of Kislev, and should they succeed, the Empire of Man will be next.
The race of elves are in turmoil. The vile Dark Elves have regained a foothold in their ancestral island home during a time when the High Elf court is in turmoil. Meanwhile, the Wood Elves of Athel Loren are beset by roving warherds of Beastmen.
In the World's Edge Mountains, the dwarves are being pushed back into what remaining holds they still have by hordes of Greenskins.
And amongst all this conflict, a greater power conspires for global conquest.
It is an Age of War. An age where the very fate of the world will be decided by the actions of a few heroes, forged in the flames of this war. Heroes of light, and heroes of darkness.
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Town of Vale, Province of Reikland, The Empire
A man on horseback gazed across the wheat field to the town before him, surveying his target.
"Alright boys," he yelled, raising his sword, "You know the drill; take any food, weapons and anything that looks valuable, and cut down anyone who tries to stop you!"
The men behind him, numbering around twenty souls, let out a yell and charged the town, happy to obey their leader's orders to the letter. Unbeknownst to these bandits, there was one soul left in the abandoned town who was willing to stand up to them: a young girl who stood in the bell tower of the church. She was dressed in lightweight, form-fitting red-trimmed black armor, with a red hooded cloak that billowed in the breeze behind her. She was armed with a large scythe that matched her armor.
As she observed the bandits in the midst of their sack, she began to plan her attack. She noticed that the men traveled in groups of no more than three and only one was ever armed, while another carried a large bag that became ever more full of loot and the third seemed to pick what places they would target. Her next move became apparent quickly; divide and conquer.
She took a few steps back before she broke out into a run and leapt out of the window-less opening, landing on a nearby rooftop. Without losing her momentum, she ran to the end of the house, where a group was trying to figure out where to go next, and jumped down onto one of the thugs, knocking him out. Before the other two could react, she stood up, her scythe on her shoulders, and pivoted around 360 degrees on the ball of one foot, knocking out the remaining thugs with the haft of her scythe.
This continued in a similar fashion until the only leader was left before her. "There's no way one little girl could knock out twenty grown men by herself. Unless, you're who I think you are. Let's see your face girl!"
The girl considered this for a minute, "Might as well," she said. She lowered her hood, revealing black hair that turned red at the tips, an innocent face, and, most notably, silver eyes. "My name is Ruby Rose of Patch."
"I knew it," the bandit leader said, drawing himself into a defensive stance, "Red hair, silver eyes, wields a scythe with almost no armor. No doubt about it. You're the Red Reaper of Reikland."
"Now you know who I am. We still gonna do this?"
With out missing a beat, the bandit leader threw down his weapons, got on the ground and put his hands on his head. "No. I may not be the brightest guy in the Empire, but I'm not dumb enough to pick a fight with someone with your reputation."
Ruby sheathed her scythe and pulled out a length of rope, "You picked the fight when you decided to attack a defenseless town," she said as she started tying him up.
A few hours later, as the sun was rising, the townsfolk returned to find their town mostly intact and the group of bandits who had plagued them for months tied up in the town square under the guard of the famous Ruby Rose.
Ruby turned at the sound of footsteps. "I take it the garrison is sending someone to pick these guys up?" she asked the mayor, shaking his hand.
"Yes. We dispatched our fastest messenger to find help shortly before you arrived. I must say, your reputation is most definitely deserved. If there is anyway we can repay you- "
"Our original agreement was more than sufficient," Ruby interrupted with a smile, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I had better get back home before my dad decides to get the Reiksguard to organize a rescue party."
"Thank you again, Ms. Rose."
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Castle Schnee, Province of Middenland, The Empire
Weiss tried to hide it, but she knew her opponent knew how tired she was. Their match had lasted nearly half an hour and she had yet to land a single blow on her, while she could feel the welts left by her opponents' practice blade on her arms, legs, and torso.
Weiss was fully clothed in fencing practice gear, mask, vest, and glove and was wielding a practice rapier, with her snow-white hair tied in a ponytail. Her opponent was dressed similarly, but she wielded a practice saber.
"Ready to call it quits?" her opponent said.
"Not yet. I want to try something," she replied.
Catching her breath, she regained her stance; left foot forward, free hand in the small of her back, blade pointed at her opponent. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the task before her. After fighting this opponent for so long with no success, she reasoned that she had no other choice than to use her trump card. She focused inward, calling on the Winds of Magic to prepare a spell. Unfortunately, her opponent noticed this and smiled as she prepared for what she knew was coming.
Feeling the magic inside her, Weiss opened her eyes and stabbed her rapier into the ground. Almost immediately, her opponents' feet were covered in ice, pinning her in place. Seeing her opportunity, Weiss lunged at her opponent, aiming her rapier directly at her opponent's center of mass.
"Good, but not enough," her opponent said, slashing her saber above the ground in front of her. As she did so, a solid wall of ice sprung up. Weiss's blade impacted with the wall, digging deep into it. She tried to extract her blade from the ice, but her opponent had freed herself, jumped over the wall and stabbed her saber into Weiss' chest, knocking her on her back.
"Ooooowww."
"Good job Weiss," the opponent said. She removed her mask, revealing snow-white hair, blue eyes, and a fair complexion, "That last trick was rather clever." She offered Weiss a hand up.
"But still not enough to beat you, Winter," she said, taking her sister's hand, and removing her own mask. Her face was so like Winter's, one could almost consider them twins, if not for the obvious height difference. However, where Weiss's countenance seemed more innocent, Winter's was stern, hardened by the years she had spent fighting the enemies of her homeland, Beastmen.
"And now you should understand a very important lesson."
"Which is?"
"The difference between a match and a fight. In the tournaments you compete in, there are rules. There are limits to what you can and can't do. In a real fight, there are no rules. As a result, you must be able to think on your feet and hold nothing back, otherwise, it could cost you your life, or the lives of those you hold dear."
Weiss hung her head, thinking about what Winter had just said. She looked her sister in the eyes, "I understand."
"Excuse me, ladies." said a voice from the doorway. The sisters turned to see their butler standing there with his hands behind his back, "I beg your pardon, but your father has just arrived. Ms. Weiss, he wishes to speak to you."
"Thank you, Klein. I'll be right there."
"Actually, he is on his way here."
"Must be important," Winter said, taking Weiss's blade and mask, "I'll put the gear away. Go wash your face. You're sweating."
"Thank you," Weiss said, smiling.
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Norscan Border, Troll Country, Kingdom of Kislev
Blake yawned. It was the middle of the night and she was damn tired. The only thing keeping her awake was the knowledge that her watch was almost up. She heard a loud rustling behind her and turned to see her replacement with a mixture of joy and irritation.
"You're late Ilia."
"Yeah, sorry," her friend said, rubbing the back of her head, trying to look all cute and innocent. She was wearing her usual black tunic, pants, and boots and her long brown hair was tied up in a pony tail. "I got caught up. Corsac and Fennec needed to talk to me."
"What about?" she asked, inquisitively.
"Nothing really. They wanted to know how I was adjusting."
"Seems like a fair question. You have been with the White Fang for about a year and we've been through some major shit."
"I'll say. Remember that marauder band a few weeks back? I didn't think mercenaries dealt with that kind of thing."
"'We deal with whatever the coin tells us to', as Adam would say," Blake said, rolling her eyes. She was becoming fed up with that line. She stood up and gathered her swords before departing with a yawn.
"Oh, they also wanted me to tell you that Adam wanted to talk to you, as soon as you get back to camp."
"Okay, thanks."
As she made her way back to the camp, her mind drifted back to a thought that had been on her mind for a while; her future within the White Fang. The mercenary band had changed since her youth, and she wasn't sure she liked it. If there was anyone she could talk to about it, Adam would be the best idea. After all, he was the leader, so he had the actual power to change the band back to how it was. Then she thought about Adam. The man was almost a second father to her, but he had developed some…. somewhat odd habits lately.
She arrived at the camp, which was standard for a mercenary camp. Tents were set up everywhere so the men could sleep, there was a small forge in a clearing away from the tents, and all the other things a mercenary group needed to remain self-sufficient. She walked to the larger tent in the center of the camp, Adam's tent. As she came closer, she heard a voice speaking a language she didn't recognize coming from the tent. Curious, she approached quietly and peered inside. What she saw shocked her to her core.
She knew the man inside was Adam, his distinctive hair gave that away immediately, even in the low light. He was on his knees before an altar of some sort that bore idols in the shape of a dog, a crow, a raven, and a serpent, and was wearing a garment of some sort that bore a symbol she knew.
Run. That was all she could think. Run fast. Run far. Quietly, she made her way back to her tent. She grabbed everything she needed, as well as her only personal item: a locket that had portraits of her parents back in Menagerie on the inside of the covers. After she had packed, she crept out of the camp. When she was sure she was a safe distance from the camp, she brought her fingers to her lips and whistled. About a minute later, she heard a winey from behind her. She turned and saw a jet-black horse. Her faithful steed, appropriately named Shadow.
She met her steed and hugged its neck. "It's good to see you again, old friend. You're the only one left I know I can trust." The horse huffed, trying to comfort her. She saddled and mounted the horse, "It's time, Shadow. We're leaving."
And she rode off into the night, her exhaustion completely forgotten.
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Fortress-Town of Helmgart, Province of Reikland, The Empire
Below the fortified town of Helmgart, there exists a sport. Most of the town's citizens find it unsettling that it's even a thing, and they aren't necessarily wrong. After all, the fighting pits aren't exactly glamorous. Most contenders leave broken in some way and it takes a rare kind of person to succeed there.
Today's main event was an open challenge to anyone who thought they could take down the local champion. In the ring were a muscular young man with close-cut brown hair and a well-toned young lady with long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. Both were shirtless, though the lady had a long strip of cloth wrapped around her upper torso to prevent her more than ample features from bouncing.
The young man was breathing heavily. He was a bare-knuckle champ back in his home village, so he expected that the competition in a military city like Helmgart would be tough, but he had to admit, this chick was tougher than he expected. From what he could gather, she wasn't a local, hailing from some nothing village called Patch, yet she had been the champion of this town for over two years. He knew he had landed more than a few solid blows on her, he could see the evidence from the various bruises covering her body. But for some strange reason, she still stood proud, grinning, and lightly panting, her body still in a fighting stance. He too was also covered in bruises and his face had a few cuts on it from the few shots she had managed to land up there. But he was beginning to tire. He was used to quick victories, his size usually intimidating his opponents, allowing him to land the first blow and then follow it up with more in quick succession before his foes fell unconscious. Not this fight though. He had landed the first blow, but his second was blocked and countered, which surprised him. After that, the fight was on, but his opponent never seemed to lose steam. If anything, it looked like she was getting stronger.
"What's wrong, Cardin Winchester? Calling it quits?" the girl said, taunting him.
"Not on your life, missy," he replied angrily. He charged her, but she countered by tripping him. As he rose, she jumped on his back and locked him in a sleeper hold. Knowing he had to act fast, he reached back, grabbed the girl by her hair and throw her forward off him with all he had. She slammed into the wooden fence that comprised the ring. He expected to hear more cheering after that little trick, but was met with silence.
"Everyone, take cover!" someone shouted from the crowd. The crowd began panicking and ran to hide behind something, a few of them peeking above their makeshift shields to continue watching the action.
"Hey, new guy," the blonde said, rising to her feet, "Don't you know there's a 'no hair-pulling' rule?"
"What? Yeah, I know."
"Ever wonder why we have that?"
"No," he said, curiosity and concern beginning to fill him.
The girl looked at him, pure rage in her eyes, "It's cuz of me," she said. She then lunged at her opponent, using the wood wall behind her to propel herself. Cardin's world slowed to a crawl as the blonde landed a furious right hook on him, blasting him back. In that time, he could swear the girl's lilac eyes had turned blood red. Cardin sailed over the wall and into the stands, barely missing many patrons.
The impact of her blow managed to lessen her velocity, but the girl still had to roll when she hit the ground in order to somewhat land on her feet.
The man in charge of the fights went to check on Cardin before walking over to the blonde brawler, grabbing her wrist, and raising it above her head. "The winner as a result of a ringout and a knockout, and still your Bareknuckle Fighting Champion, Yang Xiao Long!" The crowd cheered, coming out of their hiding places, while some grumbled and headed to the gambling booth to hand in their loses.