His mechadendrites tightened with a wet crunch, tiny fissures weaving themselves across a bone plated skull. A dull click sounded as his blade sank between the vertebrae of the creature. As its life bled out of it, a raging red eye stared at its blue tinted reflection in the lenses of his helm. The legionnaire gazed back, watching impassively as the beast continued its struggles of mindless aggression, until it finally grew still. Uncoiling his six mechadendrites from around the creature, he stood and walked past the five other similar carcasses, the thirsty ground beneath them drinking in their blood, their bodies torn asunder just moments earlier.
The legionnaire accessed the structure before him, the targeting cogitator on his helm magnifying individual features for his scrutiny. The architecture had a definite gothic influence, but the overall design and layout did not match the Terran or Macraggian style favored by most of the Imperium. It lacked the scale and the militarization that defined nearly all Imperial worlds. Shifting his gaze to the night sky for a few minutes, he used the red shift of the stars to calculate his position within the accuracy of a sub-sector.
Taking the information in, he silently began to rank of his current predicament on his list of 'Most Spectacular Teleporter Mishaps'. As a warpsmith, he had a wide range of such incidents to sort through, but he knew that it would inevitably reach tied-first. It would be alongside the moment he had witnessed a terminator phase into the wrecked hull of a dreadnought. The terminator had endured his bisection for hours before he was 'freed', only to be interned in that very same dreadnought.
He was in an unexplored region of space, since warp tides galactically south of Bakka in Segmentum Tempestus were simply too rough to risk for the slim chance of finding a habitable world. He was effectively marooned with his war gear, a mechadendrite chassis, and what he affectionately called the doomsday pod. His part in the overall battle plan was to teleport aboard the craft world, and rocket launch the doomsday pod into the Dome of Crystal Seers. Although his presence wasn't mandatory and his brothers would almost definitely be victorious without him, he had caused his legion undue effort, requiring them to switch to an alternate plan. He required them to put a contingency plan into action.
The legion had contingency measures for almost all situations, including his current one. He was to do whatever it took to alert the legion to the existence of this world, and his presence on it. Until their arrival he would have free reign to further the goals of the legion. Free Reign. Freedom. The idea appealed to him, and in a subconscious response he turned away from the establishment back towards his initial landing zone in the forest, where he doomsday pod was left draped in camo-cloaks.
Since the end of the Heresy, he had been a footslogger, a field operative. By now, most veterans of the long war were in organizational positions, making use of their experience on a grander scale. He had no objection to remaining a frontline legionnaire, in fact, at any time he could have simply started giving orders and even those higher up in the communications chain would have deferred to him. But he stayed at the front, thinking that he was suited to the role of the perfect instrument.
For 10,000 years he had believed that, and now he had the opportunity, no, the obligation to take up the mantle he had refused for so long. Now he could do what he once lived for; taking the role of fate. He could once again start handing out dreams, writing destinies, and sanctioning vocations. It was what defined him and the Alpha legion. He remembered the cold exultation of a decade-long plan falling into place, the purity of purpose when it would all rest upon him to bring those plans into fruition within the fiery maelstrom of battle. He remembered the soothing satisfaction of fading into anonymity after molding a world with his mind and hands. This contingency plan would be his rebirth as a scion of the Alpha legion.
Ozpin sat at his desk, nursing a cup of coffee. He was cursing the lack of forethought he had given to this year's hunter shadowing. Some assignments would need to be handled by staff; many of the more active hunters and huntresses were on missions that simply didn't allow shadowing. Perhaps he could convince Bartholomew to lead a mock expedition. Glynda was nearby, working through similar preparations for the semester to come.
The dullness of the work seeped into them, and after a few minutes of silence they both found themselves staring out of the windows, waiting for something to remind them that a world existed beyond tedium that was Beacon's paperwork. Right on cue, an odd flare stretched up from the Emerald Forest, its trail burning consistently, arcing slowly and inexorably towards the sky. They continued watching it for several moments, but Ozpin, guessing that since it hadn't stopped yet it wouldn't for a while, broke the silence.
"There's the excuse we've been waiting for."Ozpin murmured. With that, he collected his cane and made to get up from his chair. Only for Glynda's harsh tone to sit him back down.
"Probably just a new type of firework, we should send a team to deal with it." Another flare rose from the forest, this time curving in a different direction.
"The risk of a fire in the forest is a serious one, fireworks or not. We can't risk any potential forest fires, not while we aren't out there, the numbers of Grimm it would attract would be too dangerous this close to Vale."
"You are taking this far too seriously" Glynda pulled up a file on her scroll. "There is a third year team with free time right now, I'm sure they could deal with whatever it is. You are going to stay here, whether or not you can handle your administrative responsibilities." Ozpin placed his cane back down, making a conciliatory gesture.
"Your lack of faith in my abilities wounds me." he replied dryly. "We should at least monitor them. It would be interesting to see just who might have left the walls of Vale to set off whatever those were."
"Your wish for ringside entertainment might actually be granted, the surveillance system that we used for the initiation this year is still in the forest. I'll see that team SRLT gets on a bullhead. I will be back soon."
"I never expected cowardice from you Glynda, leaving me at the mercy of the paperwork." Glynda was halfway to the elevator when she shot him an icy glare, promising retribution.
There was a mysterious substance that seemed to infuse nearly everything in the world around him.
When he first 'touched down', he was immediately beset by the local wildlife, not giving him time to consider the more arcane readouts of his armor. After the majority learned to avoid him, or the stench of their fellow's offal, he was puzzled by the readouts. He found a substance that most commonly took a particulate form, with four major sub-types. Even as his analyzed it he could see the substance at work, morphing matter in unprecedented ways. They were like catalysts to reactions that simply shouldn't happen.
At this point, he would normally throw the samples over his shoulder and declare the world warp stained, but he could not detect any rips or creases in time-space, not one reading was a single milithere above reality-baseline. The entire world seemed touched by the warp, but not corrupted the way daemon worlds were. It was as if something had tweaked reality to conform to subtle changes in the laws of physics. He decided that his readouts had told him enough, he was an Alpha legionnaire first, and a Warpsmith second. He knew the limits of the machine when it came to subtle differences of perception, he knew the value of more fundamental senses.
He took off his helm, inhaling the rush of air that accompanied his armor's decompression. He could feel his immune system spooling up to full readiness as he let the world's air fill his three lungs. The planet was saturated with the substance, everything infused to some extent. His body and augmetics detected the foreign chemical agent and started efficiently filtering it out of his blood stream. As he looked at the world around him, everything seemed so much more vibrant than it from behind his helmet lenses. The colors were more intense, the green of the trees became a startling emerald, the grey of rocks and stones gained a metallic sheen. But everything seemed fundamentally different, as if an internal glow pervaded everything on the world, creating a much brighter, striking image than he had seen on any other world. He looked down at his gauntlets, and the two mechadendrites that sub-consciously mirrored his flesh-limbs. Their dark blue-green was subdued compared to world around him, and the normally proud and bright Legion's hydra painted onto his gauntlets seemed subtle and discrete. The fact that one of his eyes was an augmetic and still registered these differences only served to further his theory about reality tampering. He replaced his helmet, and strode back away from his makeshift orbital launch site.
He hadn't realized just how low the gravity was on this world, whether his astartes biology adjusted to the change quickly, or the evident size of the world led him to believe the gravity was greater than it actually was. The gravity was ludicrously low, he hadn't believed it until he made the calculations needed to launch the two rockets into orbit. The first carried surface samples, along with pure samples of the particles he was able to filter from the air. It went into an east-west orbit, indicating to any Alpha Legion vessels precious cargo or technical documents to be recovered. The second went into a west-east orbit, which was reserved for signaling devices. He was both proud and puzzled by the fact that he was able to create something that could get a signal into the warp. It used reverse-engineered Gellar field technology to send a signal that an astropath could pick up, and deduce a location from. If they knew the Legion's long range communication cant.
He was puzzled that the world that seemed to suppress the influence of the warp in such a unique way would let a signal get into the warp in the first place. Perhaps it was a unique property of the Geller field that allowed a signal to be broadcast, without first breaking the potential barrier between real space and the warp. Who knew? Yet more knowledge lost with the ancients, waiting to be recovered.
To launch the rockets he had to remove both boosters from the doomsday pod. If it wasn't for the camo-cloaks, the pod would have stood out like the plasteel and ceramite monolith it was. Without the rockets, it was practically immobile. Theoretically the low gravity would make it possible for him to bodily lift it, but the bulk of the pod would ensure effectively no peripheral vision. Nonetheless, his signal would be transmitted, and he had his end of the contingency to hold up.
His nostalgia for the great crusade had clearly influenced his plans, but he thought that it was appropriate given the circumstances. Segmentum Tempestus was bleak area for the Legion, especially in the southern half. Their operatives, legionnaires, and vessels had no havens to rearm, repair, or recruit. And here he was, a few thousand light years south of Bakka, with an untouched world at his fingertips. He would turn this world into the clandestine stronghold of the Legion in Tempestus, the new resources would be exclusive to the Legion, and the planet itself would be geared towards the goals of the Legion, whether the local populace knew or not.
A sudden noise caught his attention, a flying vehicle passing close to the forest, its flight pattern clearly showing its intent to deploy infantry down into the trees. It seemed that the problem of first contact would be solved for him.
Sepia led the way into the forest, keeping team SRLT on a close leash. They were used to her tendency for caution as a leader, and they had no problems with her leadership style. While they had an instinct to overcommit, they respected her ability to keep them organized so long as she was hands off after giving her initial orders.
Her scroll brought her towards the area the fireworks were launched from. Professor Goodwitch hadn't said much about the mission at all, other that it probably being some trouble maker out on an alcohol induced stunt. On the Bullhead, Sepia told SRLT that they were going to have to find whoever it was before the Grimm did.
The launch site was a small clearing, and there was no sign of any fires whatsoever. The only oddity was the way that two spots on the ground seemed to have melted into glass. Splintered, brown and cloudy glass, but it was glass nonetheless. She had only seen dust explosions do something like this before, but the lack of collateral damage led her to believe otherwise. Her team was looking at her expectantly.
"Let's get this over with team Scarlet. We'll scout west; whoever it was probably wants to get back to Vale now."
With that, they were on the move, her team forging ahead in the forest while she stayed back and looked more carefully for anything that might help their search. Ozpin's small surveillance drones buzzed around at head level, not bothering to conceal themselves. They meandered slowly though her search formation, as if to record it and analyze their actions. After a while they turned away from her and followed her team further west. She shook her head. Of course Ozpin wanted to watch his students during this almost-mission.
She followed the drones, keeping SRLT in earshot, oblivious to the other eyes that watched her with a similar gaze of measurement.
The floating machines reminded him of servo skulls, but they were much smaller, zipping around with all the grace and intelligence of sentient grapes. Regardless, they kept him away from a perimeter until his noospheric overrides were calibrated for what was essentially xeno-tech. He could have used a brute force method, but if the surveillance devices all simultaneously plunged to the ground before rebooting and following completely different paths, the person on the other end would most likely suspect foul play.
So he did it subtly, establishing a passive control connection with each one, seeing which was under manual control, and which was under pre-programed behavior. The operator or viewer seemed competent, but clearly wasn't attentive to this possibility. To the Legionnaire, it was simply a matter of moving in a dance with a partner that only he could see; he guided the devices away from the leader, surrendering control each time the viewer felt a whim to control a different set of eyes. He took advantage of the tedium to commit the group's formation to memory, guiding several machines at once to follow the three subordinates.
Their leader was isolated from all visual contact, none of the ten machines would face her, and none of the three others would watch her. It was a perfect time to strike and he took it.
His form flowed out from the thick tree line, covering the distance to the leader in two silent, rapid strides. Not breaking step, he placed one hand over her mouth as other tightened around her neck, and his mechadendrites wrenched the rifle from her grip. An odd resistance flared under his grip, glowing between his fingers. He clamped down harder, and just as soon as it appeared, the resistive force vanished. He slid back into the denser part of the forest, her form soon to be unconscious as his grip starved her brain of oxygen. After a moment he loosened his grip, and checked the movements of the group and the machines: They were still moving further away.
In those few moments, the ambient sounds of the forest had obscured what little noise he would have made. The odd flash hadn't attracted any attention. Now he could get solid information on the civilization on this world, and he also had the opportunity to send anyone in authority a message or a statement. But he couldn't let anyone see him immediately, more specifically he couldn't let this leader see him, not before he had a basic knowledge of the world from their point of view.
As he thought about the problem, he realized that his two criteria were not mutually exclusive.
Glynda was pacing back and forth in Ozpin's office, frustration and indignation radiating off her. Ozpin had gone into his deepest state of forethought and planning, his coffee left disregarded on the far side of his desk. One could practically feel the glacial water coursing through Ozpin's veins as he considered the situation.
Team SRLT had gone into Emerald Forest 12 hours ago, and only found their leader 4 hours ago. Sepia was found unconscious, as the team described it, in the torn-open chest cavity of a Nevermore. As Glynda had pointed out when Sepia's disappearance was first noticed, SRLT was possibly the worst team for it to happen to. Their team's organization and cohesive ability was anchored around their leader, and forcing the team to search for her in a Grimm infested forest was a mortifying experience for them. Ozpin could only groan, and sink his face into his palms as he saw their communication collapse in a silent panic, their efforts to organize shattered by the lack of any instinctive cohesion between them. He was sure that they only found Sepia by blind chance.
"I want this settled quickly Ozpin, I don't like whatever is out there." Ozpin remained silent, but gave Glynda a slow nod to indicate his attention. "We should muster all the qualified hunters and huntresses we can, and perform a systematic search of that region of the forest. We should requisition whoever we can to do it as quickly and effectively as possible."
Ozpin breathed in, and shifted in his chair. "I think that we concur, but we shouldn't mobilize to that extent: We mustn't create a general panic. Still, it would be the right idea, to at least go through the motions of a reaction. I think that the staff here will be sufficient, along with whichever hunters are close by. I want them ready by tomorrow, see to it."
Glynda nodded curtly, and left the room. Ozpin pulled up the information that he had gotten back from the team, spreading out the meager images and reports over the holographic surface of his table. It was depressingly uninformative, once you got past the vented panic and relief of the team that was imbedded in the after-action reports.
There were no sightings, the few footprints that the team had identified as 'suspicious' were clearly either Grimm or animal. Sepia remembered nothing except cold metal breaking though her aura, and closing around her face and neck. The time Sepia was ambushed was one of the few times the autonomous surveillance drones, and the ones he was controlling himself, weren't facing her. It was all frustratingly useless, a first year student could have deduced as much as he could.
But there was one report that caught his eye: The equipment report. Normally it consisted of ammunition spent, magazines and clips left in the field, and occasionally damaged weapons and armor. But this time, it contained a bizarre combination of missing and displaced items and equipment. All of Sepia's protein bars were missing from her waist pack, and her water canteen was emptied. The most fascinating lines were about what was simply displaced or damaged. Everything she had with her that contained writing was blatantly inspected, her notebook was paged through, and every scrap of paper was un-rumpled and flattened out before being returned to one of her belt packs, even the tags on her hat and packs were torn off, and then placed back on her person.
Her ax-rifle was the most interesting case; it was disassembled far beyond the regular field strip level, every screw, cog, spring, lever and plate was separated. Her dust cartridges were removed from a dissected ammunition clip and distributed amongst her pockets. The rifle wasn't even put back together, the parts were simply poured into the various belt packs that she wore.
The visitor was clearly searching for information, in any and every form. Ozpin wondered why they would search on such a fundamental level, what good would chunks of a year old pamphlet do to anyone? Why would they need to conceal themselves, and subject potential rescuers to brutalities when they clearly are looking for information?
Ozpin reached for his lukewarm coffee, and downed it. He would know soon enough, Glynda wasn't one to make mistakes like SRLT.
It had been two weeks since Glynda's search; nothing had come of it other than Glynda finding a stone waiting near one of the bullheads with the words 'commendable effort' scratched into it. The surveillance drones had been left to search the area continuously, and programmed to highlight any significant topographical differences that they detected.
Since then, Ozpin had time to think about the initial incident, and he realized that team SRLT was performing consistently better than they did before it. It seemed that their team dynamic had changed; now ensuring that everyone knew what the other was doing, with constant communication underscoring their cooperation.
To almost all of the staff's disapproval, leaving him push forward alone as headmaster, he sent more 3rd and 4th year teams in to 'search' for their mysterious visitor. They were all similarly terrorized, anywhere between one to three people would disappear, only to be found in somewhat questionable states hours later. The experience galvanized the teams, and after the latest team returned shaken, but unbowed, their visitor had even started to gain the respect of Glynda, each time having taught the teams something, however violently, that she simply couldn't in her combat classes.
Ozpin already had one student in mind that might benefit from such a treatment. Russet was a deer faunus, and while Beacon gave their full support to any faunus that wanted to attend, Russet was quite unpleasant to teach. In his first year, he had already displayed an egotistical attitude, putting down his classmates and even teammates whenever possible. Normally such behavior would most likely be shot down after a classmate grew tired of their nonsense and stood against them, much like the situation with Cardin Winchester in the current first year. But Russet knew exactly what he could get away with. After 3 years at Beacon, he had developed from a smart-ass with a running mouth to a vain, manipulative, cancerous lesion on the student body. He couldn't be expelled, since on paper, he was a perfect student; performing exceedingly well academically, and showing marvelous potential in combat. As Russet' graduation grew near, the staff knew that they would probably have to hand him his certificate with their teeth grit, not willing to give such a person a position of power over anyone. Ozpin wanted to break that cruel demeanor, and let Russet achieve his true potential, rather than holding everyone around him back.
Yet in the deepest, darkest part of his mind, Ozpin felt like he had made a mistake. Had he admitted a sociopath into Beacon? If that was the case, Ozpin shuddered to think of the consequences. Perhaps their visitor would rectify the situation, or at least shed light on mental state of Russet.
Glynda practically ran into the staff canteen, almost barreling into Peter, and rousing Ozpin slightly from his mental haze.
"The drones found a short path in the Emerald Forest, a person must have walked it regularly for at least a week."
Ozpin snapped into alertness, he couldn't pass this opportunity up. "It matches our time frame; we should definitely take advantage of this."
Bartholomew seemed to materialize in front of the coffee dispenser, but still regarded Ozpin. "That is all well and good, carpe diem as the old saying goes, but what exactly would we do?"
"Confront our visitor of course."
The world he was on was called Remnant. It was an odd name as far as worlds went, normally the inhabitants settled for something less open ended. Armageddon was a good example, the name necessitated no further description. Nevertheless, it fitted the world in its own way.
Between the various teams sent out in attempts to purge him from the forest, and his own exploration of the surrounding areas, he had managed to accumulate a substantial information pool on the world. However, to make more progress of any kind he would have to contact the civilization on this world. He was hoped that he hadn't made a horrific mistake when interpreting the fragmented snippets of information that he had managed to glean from the temporary prisoners he took. For a fevered moment he entertained the idea of the people of this world practicing ritual sacrifice to appease the impatient gods of gravity. "O mighty Gravitus, accept this sacrifice, our humble offering, so that you in your infinite pull and force may smile upon us and deign to keep us, your most pitiful servants, on this ground that is your altar."
Shaking the image from his mind, he reflected on the idea of the meeting that he was about to orchestrate. After a while, he had come to the conclusion that there were entities in authority sending the four man teams to hunt him. They seemed to belong to the institution that he had seen when he first arrived on the world, and while he could question their taste in weaponry, they were more skilled than your average guardsman. But the infrastructure behind their deployment suggested that they didn't formulate the entire plan themselves. Perhaps they were given a set of objectives, their gear, and were sent on a transport to hunt him? The lack of standardization in their gear gave him cause to doubt that sentiment, but the evidence for his theory overwhelmed that doubt.
He returned to where the pod had sat for the since he had torn off its rocket engines. As he linked to the pod noospherically, he could see that it was still stable. He felt a measure of pressure lifted from him, it would be extremely difficult for him to deal with the consequences if the pod were to destabilize. It was designed to be a container, not a prison.
He started moving towards the path he had beaten into the forest, making sure that the machines had noticed it. As he checked their statuses, he noticed that the operator had started controlling them again. This time was different. The other times, they would monitor a team's progress and serve as a part of the perimeter. This time they were acting as a scout party, relying only on themselves to clear an area. The operator seemed to be multitasking, switching machines regularly to gain a better view of the clearing. The operator of the machines was coming. Surprised by the speed of their reaction, he moved at a full sprint, making sure that he would get to the clearing in time to confront the operator.
His relentless pace battered branches from his path, shattering stones beneath his heels. The twisted physics of the world made him curl his lip in distaste. Everything was so breakable.
The legionnaire raced the incoming aircraft, his cogitator spewing line after line of updated intercept data across his vision. He hid the feed with a moment's focus; he could measure his progress against the aircraft's without it. The advantage of arriving at their landing site was slight at best, but to the legionnaire it mattered.
He skidded to a stop several meters from the edge of the clearing, just in time to see the aircraft set down and deploy two people amongst the floating machines. They carried themselves with a sense of certainty that the other groups lacked. Finally, he found someone who knew what they were doing.
"Do you really think that we should be giving out supplies to whoever terrorizes our students?"
"Mm."
"I think that we should try to send a different message Ozpin. As interesting as the effects of the attacks are, we should still recognize that they are just that: Attacks."
"Hm."
"Suppose the perpetrator left the area, and told others of his daring exploits against Beacon Academy, our reputation would be tarnished. Think about it, civilians doubting the prowess of Vale's hunter academy, the outcry would be huge! And here we are, about to give out food, water, information, and even a private meeting with the professors of Beacon as a reward for it all."
"Glynda…" Ozpin started, shifting in his seat as the Bullhead rose off the ground.
"I'll admit Ozpin, the teams that were affected have improved greatly. But we must keep in mind that we don't know anything about this person. They could have come from anywhere, and we wouldn't know! I don't follow your reasoning at all, why are we going out of our way to help this person?"
Ozpin had been staring out a window for some time now, waiting for her rant to finally exhaust itself. He hadn't failed to notice that despite all of Glynda's warning rhetoric, she still hung onto the supply package that they prepared for their visitor. He took a sip of his coffee and finally regarded her fully.
"You are right when you say that we don't know anything about this person."
"So surely you understand my line of argument."
"I understand it. But I think that for the same reasons, we should help them."
"And that is where I lose you."
"Think about it, whoever this is has been ambushing whoever is sent to look for them. They are extremely skilled, giving us no concrete information on them. At the same time, they are making no attempt to hide the fact that they are looking for any and all information. That is why I am interested in them."
"So they search whoever they capture, what makes them so special as to warrant this treatment?"
"Search them? Search? Think about it Glynda! Search is too weak a word! Every possible vessel of information on the captured students was blatantly worked over, analyzed and recorded!"
"Glynda, just think about what would drive someone to stick it out in a Grimm infested forest for weeks on end, pushing away every chance of escape, and keeping themselves hidden from us! Think about what would motivate them to painstakingly trawl through the belongings of their captives, only to replace it all and leave them strapped to a dead ursa."
Glynda stayed silent, staring down at the bundle on her lap, twisting the riding crop between her hands. Ozpin took another sip of his coffee. "I am deeply interested in our visitor, and I want to give them these supplies, as… a token of cooperation. In my mind, their actions show that they know as little about us as we do about him."
"I think that whoever it is might know more now, Ozpin."
"And we shall rectify that situation with this…meeting…shan't we?" Ozpin saw that the bullhead was drawing close to their destination, and he started to use the surveillance drones to investigate the area before they landed.
After the drones confirmed that the path was still there, and the immediate area was monitored, Ozpin and Glynda strode off the bullhead. The clearing was in one of the thicker parts of the Emerald Forest, the trees obscuring their vision into the forest proper. The path led away from the denser tree line, probably to avoid the difficult and rocky terrain that surrounded it.
With an unspoken agreement, the two started walking down the path, glancing ever so often down at their scrolls to check different drone feeds. They turned with the path, noting that it was rather wide for a single person to have worn out in a few weeks. They continued until it they hit a sudden dead end, the dense forest obscuring, but not restricting their path. Then they both felt it, an odd shadow on their minds, their mental maps of their immediate surroundings changed in a subtle way. It was difficult to describe, but anyone could recognize the feeling. It was the feeling of space being filled outside of their field of view, like a door opening silently out of one's sight. They turned around and saw their visitor.
A mismatched pair of glowing blue eyes stared at them from a vantage point two and a half meters off the ground, one of them flush with the surface of the helm, the other connected to a blocky telescoping apparatus. He was clad in dark green-blue armor, with unidentifiable iconography painted across the metallic surface, the plates leaving his body completely untouched by the outside world. The figure regarded them, the eyes boring into them as they took in yet more of the sight before them. The massive chest plate bore a three headed beast, tinted a lighter, more striking green than the rest of the armor. The same symbol was etched into the pauldrons of the armor. The powerful limbs, decorated in a flowing unreadable script, thicker than tree trunks. The six tendril like appendages that curved around from his back, each subtly mirroring the larger humanoid limbs.
Ozpin and Glynda didn't expect anything like him, they both had come to the conclusion that it was either a rogue hunter, or possibly a skilled vagabond that lived outside the kingdoms. They could never have predicted this veritable avatar of destruction. Nothing about him seemed familiar, the alien nature of the armor, the glowing mismatched eye lenses, the extra appendages snaking around him.
Yet to Ozpin and Glynda, the worst aspect of the stranger wasn't immediately noticeable with the naked eye. To them, he seemed to lack a quality that they had seen in practically everything in their lives. It seemed like he was muted to the world around him, like he was a void, a negative space for light and color to enter and never return.
The silence between them drew out, both parties not knowing quite what to say to the other. Ozpin decided to take the initiative, and sidestepped to the other side of the path, not wanting either group to feel blocked or trapped.
"You must be our visitor then." The silence seemed to make a return, although the figure took a less hostile stance, seeming more contemplative than murderous. Ozpin heard Glynda mutter 'Even by your standards this is insane." If he heard her, he gave no indication of it, simply gave a single, slow nod in answer to Ozpin's previous question.
Not one to lose momentum, Ozpin continued, with a faint knowing smile, and an air of eagerness. He decided to start with something he knew would get results. "Fascinating, very fascinating, now would you mind telling us where you learnt to do this?" Ozpin held out his scroll, displaying an image of Sepia's disassembled weapon. The stranger leaned forwards, one of the tendrils snaking out to collect the scroll, and hold it steady for his scrutiny. After a moment, the scroll was transferred to a gauntlet, which then returned it to Ozpin.
The dark helm seemed to emit a low hiss, the sudden sharp noise making Ozpin and Glynda wince slightly. They realized that the stranger had just inhaled, preparing to speak. When he spoke it was a visceral noise, like gravel being poured over a grave, deep enough for them to feel in their chests, reverberating even as he spoke.
"Mars, but you might not have heard of it." Ozpin and Glynda glanced at each other, confirming what he had said. "Perhaps you could enlighten us further, maybe you could mention some associated firms or organizations of Mars?" The helm tilted to the side for a moment.
"If Mars carries no significance to you, then satellite institutions would only sound more… otherworldly, shall we say." Glynda heaved a sigh, knowing that they were going to get nowhere at this rate. Ozpin set his jaw and clasped his hands. He had just enough of this beating about the bush, having watched student teams do it literally in the past weeks, to no avail.
"How about we cut this charade short, and get down to business. We know very little about you, and judging from your actions, you know just as little about us. How about we help one another with that problem right here, right now." At this point, the figure seemed to animate, the blue eyes glinting. Was it with indignation? Surprise? Amusement? Nonetheless, he carried an assertive air that he previously lacked, the already imposing presence now made palpable.
"Possibly. Regardless, a mutual exchange of information would be beneficial to both of us. At least one unfettered by minced words."
"Excellent." Ozpin decided to maintain the momentum he had achieved. "What are you doing in the Emerald Forest?"
"Collecting information about this world, as I am now." The figure looked between the two of them, the fixed metallic visage hiding all expression. "Now tell me, who are you to the building complex west of here?"
"I am Ozpin, and my companion is Professor Goodwitch. I am the headmaster of Beacon academy, and my companion is a professor there."
"And Beacon academy is?"
Glynda and Ozpin were taken aback; even the most ignorant of hermits outside the kingdoms knew the names of the hunter academies. Their visitor truly knew little about them at all. Their teaching instincts took over, and soon they had described the function of hunters, the position of the academies in the kingdoms, and how Beacon fit into it all. The stranger seemed extremely attentive throughout the torrent of information, or was it simply the nature of the unblinking eyes?
"Interesting… So these groups sent after me, they were training groups."
"Correct, they were in their third and fourth years." With that, the figure started to move up the path, speaking to them as he walked.
"This was a satisfactory exchange of information. I see no more point in staying here." Ozpin realized what was happening, he felt like a test pilot whose joystick just snapped in his hands. He started after the figure.
"An exchange? I think that you are ignoring the key word here!"
"This path is long enough, I shall humor you until we reach the end." Ozpin watched the massive limbs eat up the distance, taking one step for every two of his. Glynda was still electing to stay quiet and let Ozpin take either the credit or blame for whatever resulted.
"Where are you from? Plainly, please don't leave it to us to infer." The helm now emitted a harsh grating noise, filled with static. The stranger was chuckling.
"I suppose you deserve that much for indulging me so. Very well, I am not… of this world. I arrived here due to… unforeseen circumstances, and have been orientating myself since." As he finished, they reached the clearing, the bullhead siting in the center and the sun drawing closer to the horizon.
The golden white glow slowly turned orange as it danced across the vibrant green trees. The leaves filtered the light, speckling the grass of the clearing with a faint kaleidoscopic effect. The colors were cut into harshly as the stranger took steps towards another side of the clearing, the dark armor reflecting none of the soft glow, completely at odds to the world around him.
Ozpin and Glynda were too shocked by his previous answer to register anything more than a subtle wrongness with the image. Glynda was the first to free herself of the stupor.
"The package, Ozpin!" Ozpin started, and nodded towards the receding silhouette. Glynda jogged forwards to catch up, and he turned, sensing her approach. She handed over the supplies, wrapped in a grey cloth with the two axes of Vale blazoned across it.
"As a gesture of good will, from Beacon academy." He nodded mutely, not examining the package, handing it to one of the robotic arms. As she peered up at him, the cobalt glow of his eyes burned their afterimage onto her retina. In the spur of the moment she asked: "Who are you?"
To the Legionnaire, the lie came easily. He had repeated it so many times it had carved itself across his mind. To him it wasn't a lie anymore. It was an honest declaration of his identity, and all that he represented as an individual. He was the first bulwark against the terror, but he was also brick in the wall. He was the crest of the wave, but he was also a drop in the ocean. He was the tip of the spear in the immensity of a phalanx. To outsiders he was One of Many. He was Alpharius.
"I am Alpharius."
With that, he turned and left, moving deeper into the forest before Glynda could reply. Glynda walked back onto the bullhead, and sat down next to an equally spent Ozpin. As the engines started up they began to rise above the tree line. Glynda heard Ozpin mutter something.
"What was that professor?"
"I bet Bartholomew a week's worth of coffee that we would be immensely underwhelmed with our visitor, when we found out." Glynda shook her head, sighing.
"If only, Ozpin. If only. So what shall we do now?"
Ozpin looked up, and blinked slowly. "I am open to suggestions."
"Now that I think about it, I see no reason to discontinue our previous course of action. I think that we achieved somewhat of an understanding with him."
"I never expected you, of all people, to advocate that."Ozpin gave her a bemused look. Glynda pointedly ignored it.
"Let's just say that I have come to see that the benefits of it outweigh the risks."
"Even after what just happened?"
"To be perfectly honest, I don't know exactly what just happened. I feel like we have more questions than answers now."
"True" mused Ozpin. "But I think that the new questions are demonstrative of our information of the situation developing, not reducing." Glynda could only nod, and sit back as the bullhead accelerated towards Beacon.
His hasty retreat from the meeting wasn't just an attempt to undercut the two professors in the information exchange. If that was the only motivation, the legionnaire would have considered it a crude and rushed manipulation, not worthy of the Legion. In part, it was a test of their mettle, to see if they would enforce his end of the unspoken bargain.
Mostly, he left because a noospheric indicator that had lit up inside his vision, telling him that the doomsday pod was starting to lose stability.
Since the indicator told him that the pod wasn't critically unstable, he wasn't moving at a reckless speed, bludgeoning obstacles aside, and mowing down trees in his path with his storm bolter. Still, he reached the pod at a quick march, a mechadendrite equipped with a data port stabbing into the side of the pod. The internal systems told him that the pod had destabilized because the machine spirits were mortally offended for reasons known only to the Omnissiah. He cursed silently, apparently that was the nonsense you got when you reverse engineered Imperial tech in this millennia.
He belonged to a school of thought that considered machine spirits to only manifest in machines of certain power and influence. The most obvious examples were the War Engines of the Collegia Titanica, their god-like status unquestioned. To him, it took the influence of walking legends from bygone age of unrivaled destruction to forge a true machine spirit. Only in such circumstances could machines gain a soul. Anything of less magnitude simply couldn't gain one. This connected machine spirits to the nature of the warp in a way that made sense to him, since to him a consciousness could only appear in something capable of asserting it. Yet the fools in the Mechanicus insisted that even inert technology like the glorified refrigeration unit in front of him should be respected and honored in such a way.
For that reason, he was sure that the pod wasn't destabilizing because it grew discontent with its duties. Maybe something inside the doomsday pod had changed, interfering with the analyzers linked to the data port. Considering what was inside, he hoped it wasn't the case. Either way, the pod would stay shut for a while. He still had some time before he had to do something about it.
For now, he had time to deal with other matters. He looked to the cloth bundle that Goodwitch had given him. It was a simple gray affair, with the school's insignia printed across it in black. As he un-wrapped the bundle, he wondered what was inside it. A hidden tracking device? More information? A highly explosive trap? Even as he considered the possibilities, the auspex in his targeting cogitator eliminated them. The contents were inert on nearly every level. He pulled the last fold of the cloth aside to reveal… Provisions. Water and Foodstuffs. Between his enhanced physiology and his augmetics it would last him nearly a year, assuming it was nonperishable.
The development was surprising, before the meeting he had expected a show of force, to demonstrate how those in authority weren't bothered by their subordinates' misfortune. But then they gave him supplies, practically encouraging him to continue. Of course, they wouldn't know the uselessness of their gift, considering how little they knew of the galaxy around them, but something bothered him about the situation.
Whether it was intentional or not, by giving him the supplies, the professors established a power dynamic that was displeasing to the legionnaire. As he began to consider the events from the professor's point of view, it all started to fall into place. It was disgusting; he had been used as a training resource. He was regarded as little more than a punching bag. They sent out the student teams to experience what it was to be the hunted, not the hunters. The supplies created a gift relationship between them, and the fundamental nature of them indicated his subservience. He was sure that their actions were unconscious, not knowing what he was when they assembled the package. Still, he needed to reverse this misconception before it progressed further.
It would have been much easier if the pod hadn't destabilized. He probably would have found a way to accompany the two back to Beacon, and establish himself in a more suitable manner. For now he was stuck in the forest with a false reputation. He knew it wasn't necessarily bad to have a false reputation, he had often employed them to great effect in the past, but this wasn't one of his own making.
Right at this moment, Beacon could be acting in a manner that the legionnaire didn't want. He had gathered all the information he could from the shadows of this forest, and the false label pushed upon him wouldn't help to get him out. He needed to be recognized as a more maverick entity, not something akin to a mindless drone.
He concluded that more drastic actions needed to be taken. To him, this cycle needed to be stopped violently and immediately before it started. And if he could send a message to them about the galaxy he came from at the same time, all the better.
Normally whoever Alpharius captured went missing for six to eight hours. Russet' team had come back sixteen hours after he went missing. Without their leader.
Ozpin had talked with them, trying to get any information out of them about what happened to Russet himself. The consequences of leaving their team leader in the Emerald Forest would have to be decided later.
When Ozpin and Glynda were thinking about the next team to send into the forest, Glynda suggested Russet' team. Out of every team that had gone in, the leader of the team was always amongst those who disappeared for a while. They thought that since none of Russet' peers would denounce his conduct and lifestyle, perhaps Alpharius would show Russet that he wasn't as untouchable as he thought.
"Let me go back out, even if I don't find Alpharius, I'll find Russet." Glynda said. As they walked towards the Bullheads, Ozpin nodded slowly. His eyes had regained their calculating gleam, but this time there was an edge of nervousness to them.
"Immediately? I think that we should get you extra eyes to cover your back first."
"Another team? No Ozpin, I don't think we should risk any more students. It's already my fault we're missing one, I don't want to lose any more on my watch."
"And I won't let one of my professors go missing either. I'm sure that if you are in charge, no one will disappear. When you ran the proper search, not a single person went missing for a second."
"We still didn't find him."
"That is beside the point. Glynda, you have the best…record, shall we say, when it comes to going into the Emerald Forest and coming back out with a team. We both know that for a fact that by yourself, won't be able to keep track of every angle. Now go wake up some team, and get on a bullhead."
Glynda rubbed her temple, a tired look going across her face. She replied in a whisper. "Ozpin, I don't know what to look for. I don't know what has happened. I don't know what will happen. I just can't stop thinking about how little I know about this whole situation."
"Glynda, I don't think anyone at Beacon knows much." Ozpin gave her a significant look. "That is why I want you out there, with a team. I as little as I know about Alpharius, the fact that I know that you'll be out there removes a degree of all this uncertainty. I know that you'll get results, whether we like them or not."
With that, the pair separated, one going to his office at the top of the tower, the other towards the first year dorms.
"Good memories Jaune?" Pyrrha pointed up at a tree that had a suspiciously spear shaped hole in it.
"Pyrrha, right now there are only two things keeping me going: Absolute fear of professor Goodwitch, and caffeine. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to bring myself to remember hanging there."
Team JNPR didn't quite know what was going on. All they remembered was professor Goodwitch hammering on their door in the middle of the night, and ordering them to be combat ready by the bullheads in fifteen minutes. After that, it was all a blur of confusion, exhaustion and finally anticipation. They were back in a Grimm infested forest, ready for anything and eager to kill monsters. Or whatever they were supposed to do.
Professor Goodwitch seemed much more micromanaging that usual, constantly reminding Nora to watch a little more to the left of the group, or scolding Jaune for his less than brisk pace. Jaune remembered that professor Goodwitch had given them more detail on the way to the Emerald Forest, as he tried to recall it, more came back to him. They were supposed to look for Russet, a third year student. Apparently he was separated from his team, and JNPR was going to help Goodwitch find him.
"Pyrrha, did you know Russet?" Jaune asked out of curiosity.
"The deer faunus in the third year? I really don't know much, the upperclassmen told me to avoid him."
"Same here. Say… was it something along the lines of 'At all costs.'?" Jaune asked.
"For me it was 'Like the plague.' Strange I think. We'll know why soon enough I guess."
Pyrrha had noticed that the Emerald Forest had a different atmosphere to it. The Grimm were still there, but nothing seemed to be drawing them in towards them. The cloudy night sky gave the forest a bleak look that she hadn't seen before. The air was still and hung close to them, even as wind gusted through the trees. She broke from her reverie when Nora called them. Apparently Goodwitch and Ren found something of interest.
"No, Ms. Valkyrie, Russet doesn't have a semblance that lets him fly. The foot prints disappear because he moved this way, over rocks and branches, not leaving prints in the ground. Team JNPR, gather around. We're moving that way." Without waiting, Goodwitch started to walk into the denser forest.
Pyrrha took her place a few meters ahead of the professor, who was in the center of the group, constantly glancing around her. Pyrrha continued ahead, a gap in the trees making a continuous path that occasionally twisted and turned, obscuring their view further. Eventually Pyrrha was able to see a clearing, only a few trees blocked her. As she stepped forward, something caught her eye. On one of the trees ringing the clearing, there were marks that shouldn't be there. As she drew closer, the marks resolved into deep gashes carved into the wood with a thick, but unquestionably sharp blade. She could make them out now.
Abhor the mutant.
Pyrrha almost stopped, the sheer bold and spiteful nature of the words giving her pause. But now she had a better view of the clearing, she could see a figure sat down, leant against a tree on the other side, antlers protruding from the silhouette's head. She strode forwards across the clearing. She had found Russet.
The grass was a soft green, gently glowing as the shadows of trees played across the clearing. Their lurid shapes elongated and turned as the wind wafted through, a gentle whistle accompanying the quite rustle of the leaves. The clouds parted, letting a silvery beam from the shattered moon bleach the far side of the clearing, illuminating her goal in a bleak light. The clouds passed back over, but she had seen all she needed. She came to a complete stop, nearly sagging to her knees. She heard a sharp inhalation behind her. Evidently her group found the message on the tree.
The grass beneath her was stained at their roots, the dark, rusty hue completely at odds with the pasty white complexion of the figure at the center of the murky red disk. The clouds parted again, now burning the glowing crimson oval on the ground into her mind. With a morbid curiosity, she let her gaze travel upwards towards Russet, still slumped against the tree.
Only to look away a moment later, as her eyes found a single long cut, carving his neck from ear to ear.