Disclaimer: RWBY is the property of Rooster Teeth, created in the vision of Monty Oum and his friends at the studio, and Avatar: The last Airbender belongs to Nickelodeon's Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko and a number of other worthy names and persons surely. Same to be said of their respective associated characters and the like. Two great islands among many that make fantastic monuments overflowing with imagination taken shape, who've both metaphorically and literally made our lives growing up a little more colorful.

The M-rating is primarily a precaution because I don't know how some audiences would react to the rather gruesome way I like to display and describe violent scenes, even if it is done on monsters.

Prologue, Chapter 1: Find the Stalk

Remnant, Wingtipped Rock

The sky was thick and grey when a man emerged from the great forested swaths and walked out onto the yellow plains, head downcast with the end of his dark red cape fluttering in the wind below his brown backpack. With a heavy storm approaching, it was questionable whether or not he was properly dressed for the weather. He wore a simple, light grey tunic visible beneath a slightly torn jacket several tones darker laced shut with red thread of a shade similar to his mantle's, his sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms wrapped in bandages. His mop of short dark hair was swept back to leave a clear view of his forehead. He helped keep it that way when he reached up to brush it backwards with one of his hands, rapping his thumb against the white rings kept around his index and ring fingers before he drew his red eyes away from the gathering storm in the heavens and turned them down towards one of the small temples standing out against the vastness of the plains. Air Nomad temples, slightly overgrown as seen even from afar.

He regarded the tallest of the peak-shaped structures, incidentally the closest of the three before he started walking across the largely empty swath of land, advancing with his staff of curved metal kept one or two steps ahead of his own two feet.

A shrill cry drew his attention to the sky. The shape of a gigantic black bird with a bone-like headpiece stood out even against the might of the impending storm. Unlike him, it would surely not mind the heavy rain that seemed almost set to pour down sometime within the hour. He wondered whether it would brave the skies when the winds turned truly bothersome, or take refuge in one of the nearby temples or find itself another cave somewhere. It did not seem to have noticed him, but it seemed to be circling the area around the Air Nomad temples with some form of intent.

Perhaps they were of common cause there, in part at any rate.

He made his way up towards the temple, cutting in on a faint path deepened with tracks from long-gone wagons. Unlike the major Air Nomad population and cultural centers, these three were accessable from the ground. A sort of trading point in the past when mankind had not devised alternative means of transportation through the air which had previously been largely exclusive to the Air Nomads. He approached the spire and spotted the curving stairs running up along its sides at the middle levels. For the ground-approach, similar stairs of stone were provided. Those led to a door-less frame, and he knew there were similar stairs waiting within, though at some points he would have to walk along the outside as if it were a vertical ship of some sort.

The wind was picking up, he noted. He would be glad to go indoors even if it was only temporary. Climbing the steps, he looked at the weeds that had grown between the tiles of some, and many tiles were missing altogether, but he never lost his footing. When he found the door, he switched his staff into his right hand, braced it against his side, and twice rapped the metal against the frame of rock. The sound it gave off echoed lightly within the dark halls inside the temple. He sniffed the air. Grumbling, he proceeded inside. The place had become dusty as heck since the first time he saw it, a little less than two decades ago. Long-emptied crates lay broken against the walls, together with a few tables, urns and pots with shrivelled grey plants still pushing out of the stale dirt pushed into the ceramics years ago. He ran his hand along the surface of the nearest table, checking the layer of dust against his fingers before turning his eyes to the raspy scratches still lingering in the wood.

One of the methods to get to the next level provided to non-airbenders was a large hatch with ropes and other attached tools for pulling folks and cargo up into the rest of the temple. On its side was a broken ladder. It still had enough of a length remaining that he should be able to use it to get up without any trouble, provided he could jump the required length in order to reach it. He pulled the table away from the wall and placed it closeby, letting an annoying sound echo throughout the rooms as the table's legs scraped against the rocken floor. Standing on it, he bent forward and with a start jumped all the way up to the ladder. Looking down, he found the table remained unbroken. That's some quality wood, he remarked to himself, before he climbed the remaining rungs.

When he got to the top of the ladder and was about to pull himself over onto the floor, he noticed a sound ring against the temple. It sounded like the wind, but he did not look entirely convinced. Soon as he was on his feet again, he detached a sickle he'd kept hanging from the side of his small backpack and removed the fold keeping its sharp blade from hurting anything. This room was much the same as the one below, except for the much larger and partly intact crates pushed against the wall behind another table and a couple of dark stains still lingering on the floor. Broken urns were commonplace, and there was a savage gash in one of the walls. He went further into the building, away from the open windows and found a circular staircase in one of the sections devised to take visitors. On the steps, he found an airbender's wooden necklace with the three swirls carved into its circular form and picked it up. He regarded it calmly, his eyelids somberly narrow. What ought I do with this, he wondered. A number of small beads that had previously hung around its rope, he assumed, were scattered along the steps, but the rope was repairable. He thought about it for a moment before he placed it inside his pocket. The wind blew fiercely against the temple's exterior, and just above there was a great, loud hole in the wall with a view of one of the other structures, as well as the road atop the hills leading away into the sea not too far away where the woods were not quite as prevalent. He could still make out the towers of some buildings and towers where a small harbor used to lie, but there were good reason as to why there were no ships in sight or in the docks. Another giant black bird was soaring nearby, but that was not what made that bay effective suicide for any travellers by sea or air. The waters there were bad, and that was not for lack of fish, or the presence of any high rocks below the surface endangering the hulls of the passing ships.

He continued his expedition inside the temple, and was not long before he found what he'd been suspecting. In a spacy circular theatre, walls ringed with chairs and dusty pillows and low-lying tables, he found a creature sniffing at the ground where two pots of blue and red dye lay shattered and spilled. Black shaggy fur giving off a disturbing black and perceivable aura, white claws, digits and spikes together with a wolfish skull-like head, it was an obvious thing to notice even were it missing its distinct red markings. The man gripped his small sickle more tightly in his right hand as he narrowed his eyes on it. This thing, this Grimm, was perceivably already aware of his presence yet lingered and gave the dye a slow light lick with its black tongue before it turned its head to face him, baring its fangs and displaying the fierce red and yellow eyes rather customary to their kind.

The beast growled lowly as it stared at him and shifted its feet into a better prepared posture.

The man with the sickle gave a small smirk laced with a dull sense of mirth as he lowered his staff onto the floor.

"Heard me coming, did you? You're not the most welcoming lot, if I have to go all this way to meet you."

It gave only a quick, sharp growl before it moved to pounce on him. He threw himself to his right to keep it from hitting him. It ended up standing over his staff as it aimed its sights on him again. He almost wished it would step on it and slip, but no such 'luck'.

"Well come on then!" he edged it on.

They both advanced towards the other. The Grimm threw itself at him, but to its surprise he angled himself to slide in under it when it got up into the air and exposed its underside to him. He tore a nasty gash beneath its right hind leg before he emerged on the other side. It gave off a small screech before it scrambled to turn itself around once more, and found he had persisted far enough that he was now hugging its neck at his right elbow, and switched his sickle over to his other hand. He slid it down beside his forearm and slit the Beowolf's throat with a quick draw. The creature's wound oozed a thick black liquid even before it fell out of his grip.

He threw his weapon up in the air and caught it again in an upright grip before he went and retrieved his staff. The Grimm started to slowly evaporate behind him, tar-like flesh and all. He walked past it and out onto one of the small platforms forming up into the beginning of the stairway leading further up, with a mighty view of the surrounding area opposite the one of the sea, with a mountain or two just beyond the forests that were just starting to lose their green to the autumn. The storm was coming, and the rain had already started to fall as he noticed rivulets streaking against his bandaged arm.

'Growl'

Turning his gaze to the side, he was met with a view of the stairs leading up towards the left, AND two more Grimm of the same variant as the indoor fellow. One of them was slowly advancing down the steps, while the other was leaning against the wall up on a tree growing horisontally out of the temple's superstructure, its left digits obscured by one of the crowns of green leaves. The red-eyed man chuckled, raising one end of his curved staff to his mouth. The Grimm on the stairs rushed forward. He gave it a quick wink before he aimed the other end at the stony steps and blew into a hole on the other, and quick as that a stream of flame poured out in front of him, creating a venerable wall of fire in its path as the Beowolf plunged into it and was set alight. It whimpered as it lost control of its motions, and its slayer quickly brought the sickle-blade down its neck as it thrashed against the wall that had been behind him. He shot out his left hand to toss a bolt of fire at the other through the flames, but it managed to raise its upper appendages in time to brush it aside, although not comfortably.

The Grimm gave a yell. He straightened, thinking "(Hmm, the only reason I was avoiding that was so I don't lit the whole temple on fire. Don't think Summer would've liked that.)"

To his surprise, the Grimm chose not to attack, but instead leapt up to climb the wall. Alarmed, he threw a punch that sent out a more powerful yet still compact fireball after it, though he narrowly missed by a hair's breadth away from its feet. He ran up along the stairs, watchful for ambushes. More alarmingly, however, was that it was the Nevermore he'd spotted earlier who set its sights on him and stopped in the air close enough to have a good view of him. It swung its wings forward and sent a fussilade of feather quills after him. He dodged the first two and used his two tools to swat aside others. In the end he was left standing amidst the remainder of the payload that had made its way through and pierced into the stone structures around him. One had pierced his cape, so he customarily severed the broader upper part and pulled the garment loose. The rain was falling far stronger than before and thunder seemed ready to boom around them. Off in the distance beyond the mountains he even saw a fork of light take shape. The Nevermore braced to try and crash against him now that its barrage had failed, but from somewhere up above something invisible flowed out and slammed into the side of its neck, sending it screaming and reeling at its loss of control. Despite his hopes of it plummeting to the ground, he knew it would regain control soon and try and strafe against him again. He looked up towards the top, waiting like that for a few moments before he pressed on.

He found a number of circular platforms molded together in a space between the top and the bottom that made for a high-altitude courtyard. Off the edge, he knew they used to practice gliding by jumping off into the spacy landscape. Now, it was infested with at least a dozen Grimm, including the one who'd gone off earlier who was still standing tall on one of the buildings that looked like it was made for cooking, or baking. Perhaps for making those pies the Air Nomads are famous for offering to every visitor they receive. He could use a pie right now. Instead, he put the sickle back in its fold and freed his hand for his staff. He saw a Grimm curl up into a spin - a Boarbatusk. How the hell did it get up here? The boar-like Grimm aimed to mow him over in its path, but if he just moved aside at the exact moment when… hehe, loooong way down. He didn't think it would admire the view much as it practically flew right past him and out over the edge.

Gripped in both hands, he gave the Grimm an annoyed look before brandishing his weapon like a farmer's long sickle, even including an extra handle down the shaft, although with a blade made of a blazing edge created through the use of firebending rather than produced out of refined, fine ores.

He swung it first behind his back before it was spun around his left and scorched the first Beowolf's skull-like face off from the right side of its jaw before turning it overhead and spinning it like a horisontal windmill. Becoming a blur of a human just after stopping the motion, he next appeared in the air beside a lunging Grimm and bisected it, carcerating its wound such that it gave off no black fluids as he landed and spun his weapon like a proper windmill, if only made out of fire and metal rather than anything that the common farmer would consider safe to use. The Grimm that made a swift turn and tried to take him from behind was met with a diagonal cut far faster than its eyes could properly register and was cleft from its left shoulder all the way down to its right hip as the blade took on the appearance of a curving torch. Another came up from behind the burning shroud of black that was left of the Beowolf, an Ursa, but the man was already back at spinning his blade like a racer's wheel and robbed it of its wrist and kneecap in just two quick motions before the scythe-wielder turned around and crouched, throwing his edge around its back and pulling, tearing the vaguely bear-like Grimm in two. Surrounding him, one tried to take him from the front immediately after he pulled his weapon. He gave it a glare before planting his right foot firmly in the ground before he sharply shot his left up in the air, producing a plume of flames from around his sole. The creature shrieked as it was engulfed, but just as he rose into a standing position it roared and tried to near him again. Grunting, he jumped out of its way and landed atop one of the decaying Beowolves, scythe by his side as he surveyed the surrounding dark beings. About half, he thought.

Planting the end of the pole in the quickly deteriorating flesh, he flexed his arms and rolled his right wrist as he assumed a tight stance close to his body. Three Beowolves appeared around him. Taking a deep breath with his eyes closed, when next he opened them between the three simultaneous attacks he planted his right hand on the organic platform he was standing on and lowered his body before rotating his lower half in what superficially looked like a brief bout of breakdancing, summoning forth an expanding crescent of fire that pushed the Beowolves backwards. He resumed his stance and found the same Grimm who had escaped him earlier standing atop one of the rooftops close to where he'd come from.

It was learning restraint, he understood.

He took hold on his staff again and produced the fiery edge again as he pulled it out of the dead Grimm. For a moment, he entertained the thought of sending a grand disk its way. He decided against it, not wishing to harm the temple any more than absolutely necessary. Looking around, it seemed the few remaining Grimm were cautiously keeping their distance. Might be he had just culled the relentless and the reckless ones in the bunch.

"You really wanna allow me to catch my breath? I'm a firebender, you know?" he remarked, raising his left hand and rolling his wrist. "No? You're a stinking bunch, I suppose you mean to choke me with your mere being here."

Looking up, thunder seemed to be booming and the wind was soon to grow in strength, he imagined.

"(Well, at least the thunder should be good for my firebending.)"

When thinking of a way to restart the battle(and get it over it), he tracked himself back to that thought. Raising his eyes again, he let go of his weapon, letting the flame disperse, and threw his right hand straight up in the air, his foremost fingers pointing upwards and started running it in a circle before he switched over to his left hand. At this point, his left hand's fingers began to glow and the Grimm realized it just before the streaks of electricity started appearing along his sides and charged.

Another circular motion later, he opened his eyes and fired it off in his right hand towards the two Grimm, one Ursa and one Beowolf. He would later wonder how the former made its way up the temple with its bulk and weight. The forks of energy struck through the space and struck the Ursa dead in the first moment before he re-angled it and overwhelmed the charging Beowolf's exposed upper back, illuminating the elevated courtyard in an intense blue light. The Grimm who had escaped him earlier had also charged, and tried to strike him while he was killing its brethren, but the firebender switched the glow over to his left hand's fingers. His arm tense, he had to throw it out towards the leaping Beowolf. The Grimm's arm was out and claws poised to rend him to pieces, roaring. The lightning shifted over from the man's other limb and went out through its new emitter. However, suddenly the bolt lost its sustainability and erupted into a shocking explosion as it hit home in the Grimm's chest, breaking it in pieces and sending its emitting firebender flying off of the deteriorating corpse. The firebender hit the ground and kept rolling until he found a rest against the still-burning Ursa he had bisected earlier.

He ended up coughing wildly, and winced when he found the strength to look at his hands, finding them lightly burned.

"Okay, clearly, that was not the best way to go about it." he remarked as he tried to rise.

Raising himself straight didn't appear an issue. And fortunately, it would seem the Grimm had either fallen or bolted. The cries of the Nevermore could still be heard, but fell soft against the pouring rain. He took another look at his palm. It didn't show any signs of real damage, aside from one or two small black crevaces, but it felt positively singed no matter how little it showed on him. He stared into his palm, contemplating something. Clenching his hand, he shrugged it off as he went to retrieve his weapon.

"Pffuuuth…" he breathed.

As his hand neared the shaft, his eyes narrowed and turned. He quickly grabbed it close to the end of the pole and swept it in a half-circle, jutting a great plume of orange flames that threw itself over whatever creature he'd sensed standing behind him before he gripped the weapon in both hands and held it in front of him.

The Grimm didn't die, but covered in the wall of flame as it was, the tall figure let out a most uncommonly shrilling shriek that threatened to overwhelm his ear drums.

"SHHHRREEIAHH. SHRRRRIIIIIIIEEEEEEEUUUU!"

It was not a variant he'd seen before. Before him, in the flames, was a slim, tall creature on standing on four thin legs. Its shape seemed to pierce the light of his flames, and though it didn't seem to be writhing uncontrollably it didn't seem like it was about to strike with its pair of triple scything blades. It seemed insectoid, somewhat like a praying mantis, but it was most definitely a Grimm, its piercing eyes visible even through the fire. It never seemed to cease its screaming, staring right at him as he forbid the flames from dissipating. Soon, it seemed it had enough. Still alight, it surprised the firebender when it turned away and rushed to the end of the stairs he had used to come up and seemingly tossed itself down from the edge. He followed after it, burning scythe-blade raised above his shoulders as he looked down below.

It seemed to be earnestly moving away from the building. The rain might wash away the flames now that it was out of his range, just as it was starting to eat away at the wall of flames he'd thrown around it just now. When the flames seemed to go out he could scarcely see the creature.

"Guess this one's a sneaker, huh?..." he mused as he let the shaft rest against his shoulder.

Turning, he got a full view of the field of slowly decaying and burning Grimm he'd made for himself.

"As far as red carpets go, it's not bad." he mused. Walking upon it, however... "Ufhh, a bit smelly maybe." he said, reaching for a flask strapped to his black sash and uncorked it before taking a quick sip.

The increasing winds was actively blowing the clouds of evaporating Grimm corpses towards the south as he proceeded upwards, taking the stairs just beyond the courtyard. He had most likely lessened the Grimm presence in the temple by a significant amount with the recent skirmish, but with a Nevermore still around somewhere and the tendency of some Grimm to lay in wait there was no use dropping his guard entirely. He found a Creep roaring at him in one of the next dusty chambers. That was almost disconcerting how easy that was. He roasted a flock of small juvenile Nevermores when he tried to go deeper into one of the Air Nomad habitations, but was quick to still the fires before they set anything alight in the dusty old place.

Luckily, being monks of a sort, the Air Nomads only sparsely filled the halls inside. Their personal chambers might offer differing varieties in terms of decoratives and personal items, but he wasn't willing to go looking through all of them. A few rooms lay open to view with ripped up and broken down doors. Withered flowers and dusty old toys lay scattered around the place where people used to live. Looked like a place where children were housed for a time as they were being moved between sites during their training. A glass locker holding a number of glider staffs could be seen at the end of the hall between the housing units. Its locking mechanism still lay on the floor. Guess they wouldn't want the little ones running about with their staffs too easily accessable before they were of a somewhat suitable age to begin gliding. The level above looked like it'd be roughly the same as the one below, but luckily he was able to move past it and continue onward by the continuing flight of stairs. To be honest, the number of stairs was starting to annoy him, as it had every other time he'd visited the place. There was no shortage of places to hide inside the Air Nomad outpost. Looking through all the places would be a nightmare.

Fortunately for him, he had a good idea of where to go. Incidentally that lead upwards. Habitation became sparser the closer he came to the top. Specialized facilities were focused up there, some producing trinkets or other objects and produce for the traders below. Others were for the airbenders to enjoy pleasant artistry. He remembered a precious someone telling him there'd lived a waterbender and firebender couple somewhere up here who kept a hot bath available for anyone willing to make the climb, the former pulling water from the clouds and the latter heating them up. He'd never met them, but he knew one of the oval cliff-bordered fountain-apparents he passed through on a platform had been for an open-air bath. The firebender had been the husband, Summer'd told him, and he'd loved to take his dips there in the evenings. Those dips were of great comfort to the elderly monks running the outpost. Now, the water had run low, aided almost solely by the occasional downpour, and the borders had been broken, torn up by what he assumed must be Grimm getting blasted into them by a powerful blast of airbending. He kept telling a very particular someone pacifism just doesn't cut it; whoever escaped this place hopefully took such a lesson to heart, and not to his/her gut.

Circling up through the stormy winds towards the top he found another pair of surviving Beowolves and brandished his scythe once more and laid waste to them on the simple gray path. While he dodged and chopped off one's leg and quickly severed its head as it fell on its side, the other was bisected, its upper part sent tumbling down the side of the temple. He watched it fall with a look of indifference as rain spattered his head, back and shoulders. He raised his scythe over his head to make it his flaming umbrella as he climbed the steps.

Aside from the booming lightning, the 'pissing rain', the screeching winds and the crackling sound emitted from his weapon, all had returned to silence once more. Small rivers' worth of water ran down the sides of the temple by this point, he had to plant his next steps with care. Fortunately the Air Nomads had carved the rock well enough to not accidentally have someone slip off the edges, even if their standard population was near entirely comprised of airbenders.

The last real climb was a single spiralling stairway stretching all the way to the top. The occasional cluster of buildings was there to be seen, and it seemed only one more Grimm remained, for now, but like the ones who had been torn off the edge of the artificial mountain during the original Grimm attack, it too fell in part when the Creep spotted him and jumped down to a small wooden roof that collapsed upon its landing and found a bucket to obscure its vision in the mess of tools it fell into. Lacking arms, the Creep could only try to ram the man with the scythe, but almost comically miscalculated his position and flung itself off the edge. He had to tread carefully around the shattered pieces of wood and rusted metal rolling down the steps. A small number of metal poles were scattered along the way carrying shreds of orange cloth in varying states of tear, flapping to the heavy winds as the storm gradually rose in power. When he had again come to a piece of the spiral overlooking the lands to the west, he could scarcely even make out the silhouette of the other nearby temples. The wind was blowing in his ears. He'd have a hard time seeing the Nevermore coming should it dare make an attempt in this weather.

The raindrops were drenching him quite unevenly as he squinted, staring on ahead just beneath the illumination emanating off his scythe-of-fire.

"I can't believe this. Why… why again?"

…

"Tai…"

"They gave her the test didn't they? How can you NOT be more upset about this!? Isn't she your-"

"TAI!"

"..."

"... Please. There's no helping this..."

...

"'Sigh'... Uhuh…"

'Ruffling'

"I found this, floating downriver. You know, for all your talks about composure, you ought to have burnt it. You make a poor show, Qrow. You really do."

He flicked up and beheld between his fingers a circular game-piece, a Pai Sho tile with a large white lotus-flower resting on its stained dark surface. He regarded it with more than a hint of uncertainty before he raised his eyes to the final stretch of the path and clenched his fist tightly. Two pairs of low stone emplacements built to keep lanterns safe from gusts as the top-most small building of grey stone rested ahead, lights out since gods know when.

"... I know."

This is where monks sometimes either went to contemplate or confined others inside to reflect in times when uncertainties or misdeeds brought one low, he'd heard people say. And it wasn't the first time he'd thought this place the most likely refuge of one he sought.

A sigh escaped his lips, imperceivable against the boom of lightning.

The entrance to the building lie ahead of him, an intricately forged metal door, bronze-colored, looking almost half as worn as the frame of roof-tiles overhead. No doubt this had been the place some desperate soul had tried to hide in during the Grimm assault. He only had to look towards his right to see where someone had buried a body or skeleton in one of the small patches of workable earth at the tip of the temple.

The rain was shifting towards the east, enabling the shadow of the building as a makeshift cover against the downpour. The flame atop his scythe was allowed to flicker and fade into glowing wisps before he worked his hand down the length and raised it above his head, holstering it behind his neck beside the clasps of his mantle.

He eyed the door for a few seconds more before he made his approach. The door's handle was left intact despite the years and perils that had taken the temple, and felt unsurprisingly cool to the touch. It hardly resisted at all when he pulled, and gently pushed indoors.

Inside was a room with much the same coloring as the rest, predominantly grey with the stone's natural colors, draped with bits of orange and red for dusty carpets and a torn curtain. He found who he was looking for sitting before the latter cast of orange cloth on the frame just before the room's lone, circular window, hugging her knees with a stark red cape draped over her shoulders with yellow sleeves tightened with small brown ropes at the wrists and loose red trousers as she stared out of the window behind her neck-length black hair gradating towards another shade of dark red near the tips.

Little was in places they looked like they should have been. The carpet had at some point been blown over towards the wall on the left. The wind was still making its way through the window, blowing at the curtain as well as the young girl's hair.

The girl shifted in her seat after hearing the sound of the door creaking, but kept her gaze pointed out the window.

"... Hey Qrow." the girl greeted him with a low, solemn voice.

"... Hey, kiddo." Qrow answered, and gave the door a gentle shove to shut out the storm.

Next up - Prologue Part 2: Hug the Bud

Although I have hundreds of pages stored, this is the first time I've managed to put together a whole chapter I'm content enough to publish, even if it is comparatively small. If you've made it this far, however, I am grateful you took the time to read through it and would welcome your thoughts. Then again, as the second part is already written it'll only be a while before I've revised it again into something I can consider worth showing.

And I promise you, the second and final part of the prologue will be much longer. On my file this chapter was around 9 pages. The second is 40, and it has dialogue, don't worry. I'll get to work on that right this minute. So long~