So this is my first attempt at writing since highschool and I'm honestly not sure of how it went. Constructive criticism is welcomed and please don't hesitate to let me know if you have any tips to help me get better. Without further ado here is my first story: A World Full of Grimm.
Handcuffs are uncomfortable. I suspected the police officer who put them on me did them up a bit too tight on purpose but it wasn't just that, everything about them made them uncomfortable. The thin metal edge digging into my wrist, the awkward position I had to hold my arms at, the angle I had to lean at to sit properly. Yep, all in all being handcuffed was not a fun experience, but I suppose it wasn't meant to be. Of course, if I stopped focusing on the discomfort of being handcuffed I probably wouldn't notice it so much, but then there would be nothing to distract me from the peculiar silver eyes which seemed to be trying to bore a hole through my skull. So yeah, I figured contemplating the discomfort of my current position was by far the better option. Regrettably the owner of said silver eyes didn't seem to share this sentiment.
"You got us arrested" she hissed, tone accusing.
"Hey now" I argued "This is at least fifty percent your fault, therefore I think you should take fifty percent of the blame."
"What! No!"
"Alright, forty percent." I didn't think it was possible but the silver eyes seemed to redouble their efforts to drill a path through my head.
"Thirty percent?" I offered weakly.
My unwilling partner in crime, realizing that she couldn't vaporize me with her gaze, collapsed onto the metal table in front of her with a groan.
"My life is ruined" She lamented with a wail. "All I was trying to do was stop a bad guy then you were there breaking everything and then that cranky woman showed up and now I'm in a police station and I'm going to go to jail and I'll never see my family again and never become a Huntress and... and."
"Wow you didn't even breathe once during that entire thing." The glare she levelled me with was a keen reminder that I really should learn to shut my mouth from time to time.
"You shut up! This is your fault." An accusing finger was levelled at the bridge of my nose. A stinging retort died on my tongue as I saw her eyes go wet. Oh shit, I thought, time to do damage control. I never could stand seeing people cry.
"Ok Red chill for one second. Firstly, I've been arrested, you're just here for questioning. Notice how I'm handcuffed and you aren't."
It was true. The second the cops had gotten their hands on me a pair of cuffs had been slapped on and I had been shoved into this room. She, on the other hand, had been gently escorted to a seat next to me in the interrogation room. My explanation seemed to work as I could see the tears receding in her eyes. I forged on.
"Secondly, we are not going to jail. We were in combat against criminals who had their Aura unlocked, collateral damage was a given. They'll ask us a few questions, make a few threats, tell us to not leave town and we'll be on our merry way before the morning, our heads held high with the knowledge we fought a dangerous criminal and came out on top."
"You really think so" She didn't look happy, but at least she didn't look like she was going to cry anymore.
"I know so." I answered with a smile. This smile was wiped a second later when the door to the room slammed open and a rumbling voice emerged.
"You know wrong you little brat." I didn't bother to look, already knowing who was there. In the age old tradition of trying to appear as innocent as possible I plastered the largest smile I could on my face and turned to face the door.
"Heyyyyyyyyyy Rusty" I drawled at the mountain of hair and muscle that stood in the doorway. "I know this looks bad but let me just say one thing first." I took a deep breath, knowing that my next sentence could decide whether I lived or died. "It was all her fault."
"HEY!"
As I received twin glares from my enormous mentor and the adorable girl next to me I couldn't help but sigh. This world sucked sometimes.
As much as I would like to say my entrance into this world was through something awesome like a magic portal or a wish granting god the truth is I entered the universe of RWBY the old fashion way, being born. I don't remember much of the actual birthing process, thank god, or even my first few hours as an infant, my memory of it a jumble of loud noises and uncomfortable sensations. My first clear memory in this world was opening my eyes to see two gigantic beings peering down at me, which, to me at least, was cause to freak the fuck out. I later found out I caused them quite the shock but seeing as I was too busy screaming my head off I didn't really notice. Eventually I calmed down and quickly came to grasp the fact that I, someone who had very clear memories of being a grown ass man, was suddenly a baby. Not a particularly happy baby either, the sudden inability to move, talk or control my bowels had left me rather grumpy at times but overall, I think I took it pretty well.
I'm proud to say I figured out where I was pretty quickly. The first clue that I wasn't in the same universe as my last life came in the form of my parents who I had noticed, after my initial freak out, possessed some features that didn't belong to a normal human. Namely a small pair of antlers on my mother and a lion's tail on my father. Being a fan of RWBY in my previous life I immediately likened them to Faunus but I chalked it up to a coincidence. True confirmation came when I was barely a few days old in the form of the enormous broken moon hanging in the sky.
So, I thought to myself, this is it, I'm really in RWBY. That. Was. So. Cool!
And in my opinion it truly was. So what if there where Grimm, crazy ass criminals and four kingdoms on the brink of war. I had been given the chance to live out any die-hard fans ultimate dream, to live and breathe the stories we love so much, how could I possibly be sad about that?
My first order of business had obviously been to think of a game plan. I had no way of knowing whether the events of the show would truly happen, or if any of the characters were even real, but after a bit of thought I concluded that it didn't truly matter. Canon RWBY or not my goal from now till I was 17 was the same, learn to kick arse and get into a Huntsman academy. Becoming a Huntsman was a given, I mean what kind of person would come to a world where there were essentially superheros who fought monsters of darkness and despair and think 'nah screw that nonsense, I'm going to be a farmer'. This was my chance to live an awesome life full of action and adventure and I wasn't going to screw it up.
Being a kid again was seriously fun in some ways but sucked so much in other. As an infant I got to nap whenever I wanted, something which strongly appealed to teenage me, but I had to eat mush which I refused to call food. I got a pretty good handle on my new parents and home through eavesdropping on everyone who came to visit my parents and what I heard painted a very positive picture. My father, Leo King the Lion faunus (yes, I chuckled when I first heard that one) was the leader of the town guard of the town of Carn. A huge man with a wild mane of stock of blonde hair which seemed to settle on his shoulders in a manner which could be seen as a mane with a bit of squinting, he was clearly respected within the community and would frequently have the leader of the town over to discuss recent activities within the settlement.
My mother April, a deer faunus, had to be the sweetest person I had ever met. Whenever she took me to the market or out on an evening stroll she would be greeted by every single person we came across…. However, I learned all the sweetness had a dark side. My mother enjoyed knitting. She particularly enjoyed knitting holiday outfits. If you think the occasional Christmas sweater you received was bad you should see the horror of an outfit spawned by a holiday called Colour day. Luckily whichever merciful force which had sent me here perceived this and equipped me with tools to deal with it. The face my mother made when I used my new retractable claws to shred the abomination of clothing she tried to make me wear was hilarious.
I immediately decided against trying to blend in and act like a normal child for two reasons.
One: This was a brutal world of monsters and criminals which I would need every advantage I could muster to survive.
Two: Being a kid was fucking annoying.
I maintain that the greatest horror I have witnessed in this world to date was my first 'playgroup' with a bunch of snot nosed toddlers. My mother had to practically pull me off another child I was attempting to strangle after he drooled on me.
Regardless, while I wasn't going to reveal my previous life I had no intention of holding myself back for the sake of appearing normal. After I picked up the nuances of the language I tackled the written word as soon as I could. I read books on history, math and anything I could get my hands on, always moving at a pace that would make me seem gifted but not to the point of making anyone suspicious. I asked boundless questions under the guise of a child's curiosity to see where, and when, I was.
As far as I could gather it had been 80 years since the great war and about 40 years since the Faunus Rights Revolution ended. Where this put me in regards to the timeline of the show I have no idea but hey it was nice to know something at least. My family and I lived in a small town of 400 people which resided on the continent on Sanus, more towards Vale than Vacuo. It used to be a mining town however it had soon been discovered that the mountain range which formed a ring around the valley in which the town resided restricted the Grimm to a single entrance through a natural gorge which could be easily defended. Because of this people stuck around even after the mine had run dry and the town quickly became a popular rest spot for people making the journey from Vale to Vacuo. In a world where there was no such thing as complete safety the town of Carn was as close as anyone could get outside of the four kingdoms.
My arms trembled as I blocked another strike. The cocky brat smirked as he forced me back, keeping me on defence. He, and most of his classmates, hadn't been pleased when I had been moved into their class at the beginning of the year. Apparently their 15-year-old pride had been insulted by being in the same class as a 11-year-old and in typical brat fashion they had decided to show their displeasure by beating me during the daily spars. Not that I would make it easy for them I thought as I side stepped his latest swing, bringing my wooden sword down on his arm, his grunt of pain music to my ears.
"Enough" a voice called out. Lowering my sword, I turned to face our teacher, keeping an eye on my opponent in case he tried to get one last swing in. Not that I expected him to, everyone in the class having seen the punishment for disobeying the grizzled town guard's instructions.
"Midas" he snapped "I have told you time and time again you need to be more offensive, don't just stand there taking hits like a training dummy, fight back. Unless you want to be moved down to an easier class with the rest of your age group".
I scowled internally. It was all well and good to say that but I was fighting children four years older than myself. I may have the edge in skill and form but there was little I could do against the sheer speed and strength difference. However, experience had taught me saying this aloud would only invite ridicule and harsh rebuke so I held my tongue.
"Yes teacher" I replied evenly, tuning out his criticisms of my sparring partner. Looking around the field I surveyed my fellow classmates. The town of Carn was of the opinion that everyone who grew up inside their walls should have at least a basic knowledge of self-defence and combat. As such from ages 10 to 14 students of the town school would be required to spend their afternoons doing basic drills and sparring behind the school under the tutorage of town guards. After the age of 14 students who wished to follow a combat based career could join a smaller class and train to become a town guard. These were the students I was faced against. As the son of the current leader of the town guard it was expected that this was the path I would follow and was the choice my father insisted I make.
At the thought of my father I allowed my scowl to become external. While he was a great father and a kind man there was one issue that had come to head over the past few years, and that was me becoming a Huntsman. I had initially declared I was going to become a Huntsman after hearing stories of them soon after I began to talk. I could see that my words were dismissed as a childish dream, after all what child didn't say they wanted to become one of the heroic protectors of the innocent. However, as I grew older and stuck firmly to the idea of leaving the town to become a Huntsman I could see my father's attitude became a bit strained. When I had learned that my father was actually a retired Huntsman himself I approached him over training only to be turned away, told that the lessons I were receiving already were more than enough. Subtle encouragements to drop the idea which may have worked on other children were useless against me and when I first displayed a, as the first-year combat instructor called it, prodigious talent for swordsmanship my father looked about ready to crack. I knew it wouldn't be long until he called me to talk about the issue and I was ready for it.
I loved my father's office. As an important member within the village my father was allowed better accommodations than most and while the rest of the house was a humble affair typical within a village this size his office was another matter. A grand wooden desk sat in front of a roaring fire place, on top of which rested my father's greatsword, Roar. A truly impressive 2 metre length of dust forged steel the colour of burnished bronze, topped with a leather grip and pommel shaped as a snarling Lion. To merely lift the blade required incredible strength yet my father swung it with a controlled grace which none in the town could match. My admiration of the blade was cut off by my father's voice.
"Take a seat Midas" he ordered, motioning to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Once I had settled he continued. "This is much earlier than I had been expecting to been having this conversation however I think it's time we had a talk about your future."
"Why now?" I asked, despite knowing the answer.
"Your progression with your studies have made your mother and I extremely proud, and despite only starting a year ago, Jet tells me you are already 3 or 4 years ahead of your peers in combat class. You show a maturity and wisdom far beyond those of your age group and I feel it is time to reward that by treating you as a mature adult and having a frank discussion with you. Son… I want you to give up this dream of becoming a Huntsman. Nothing good lies along that path."
It was probably a sign I was getting too accustomed to acting like a child that my first reaction was to yell. Luckily, I reigned in my initial reaction. I wanted to yell and rail and carry on but I knew that would get me nowhere.
"Why?" I asked "Huntsman and Huntresses are our first line of defence against the Grimm. They are humanities protectors. Why would you not want me to become one of them?"
I watched as my father rose from his chair, his face flickering through a myriad of emotions before settling on one I could only guess as resignation. Turning his back to me he faced the fire.
"Son did anyone ever tell you of my youth?" He questioned, his voice soft. I cast my mind back. My parents had told me stories of how they met in Vale and recognized each other from their childhood on Menagerie, stories of their childhood adventures and antics. I remembered my mother rocking me gently in front of the fire, telling me of her teenage years spent practicing sewing and knitting, hoping to become a master seamstress before moving to the mainland to pursue a career. The more I thought the more I realized how little I knew about my father's life before he came to Carn. I answered.
"Not that I can recall, no."
I settled into further into the chair as my father took on what I fondly called his 'lecturing pose'.
"After the Faunus Rights Revolution, the chieftain of Menagerie was eager to have as many young faunus become Huntsman and Huntresses as they possible. His idea was twofold. If faunus were seen defending the citizens of the kingdoms from the Grimm threat, then perhaps it would ease tensions between our people. Alternatively, if that didn't work and violence erupted between our peoples again it wouldn't hurt to have a small army of highly trained fighters defending our rights." For a moment my father seemed lost, staring into the flames with a distant expression. From the tense stance adopted I could assume that this conversation was not bringing back happy memories for him.
"My brother was one of those selected to travel to an academy and learn the way of the Huntsman. I protested, I wanted to go, but the Chieftain could not be swayed. I had responsibilities, he said, I needed to stay in Menagerie. Of course, I disagreed with this and in the dead of night I stole my family's sword and snuck onto a boat leaving for the mainland. I never saw my family again. Once I arrived I joined an academy, was assigned a group and graduated, becoming a Huntsman." A fond smile broke through his grim expression." We thought we were invincible in those days, taking every mission that came our way and paying the dangers no thought." The smile faded. "But the risk of the job could not be ignored forever and one day they caught up with us. I was the only survivor. I swore away the life of a Huntsman, met your mother, and took a job here." He turned to face me. "I lost my family, my friends, and nearly my life, all because I wanted to be a Huntsman. I am not trying to stop you from living your dreams, I'm trying to protect you from being hurt. You are talented, you could be anything. Please son, give up on becoming a Huntsman."
I blinked. That was a lot of information to process in a very short amount of time. It appeared, however, that I wasn't allowed time to dissect this new information as the older blonde settled into his seat on the other side of the desk, obviously expecting a response.
I resisted the urge to sigh heavily as I eyed my father in return. It was very possible that my next words would determine whether or not I had my families support, and more importantly my father's training, on my side. Luckily, I had a speech planned for this exact situation. Gathering myself I said.
"Have you ever heard the saying 'With great power comes great responsibility'" I could feel the muscles in my face straining in an attempt to keep a neutral expression.
"Not in those exact words but the sentiment is not unfamiliar." The words came from him slowly, however he appeared intrigued. Thank you Spiderman!
"Not to sound too arrogant but as you said yourself I am talented. I'm twice as capable as anyone else my age and that gap only grows larger by the year. Who is to say that the same would not hold true of myself as a Huntsman. I have been given this talent, this gift, and if I let myself languish in this town, if I waste my gift, then every person out there who could have been saved, who needed a Huntsman and there was none, that's on me."
"You possibly blame yourself for people dying, you can't save everyone."
"I know that, but I could save some of them, and isn't that enough of a reason to try?"
The room was silent after that. I could see my father considering my words, rolling them around in his mind, weighing each sentence and dissecting every word. I imagine it created a stark contrast to my own thought which were moving along the lines of a song of prayer to Stan Lee and the Marvel gods.
The oppressive silence finally ended with a heavy sigh from my father.
"You couldn't have made this easier on your old man and been a bit less convincing, could you?" I could see he was trying to look annoyed but the amusement shone through. I chuckled.
"Where is the fun in that".
He rose with a snort.
"Stand up." I got to my feet as he walked around the desk to champ a hand on my shoulder.
"You're a bit younger than is customary but gods know you are mature enough to handle the responsibility."
"Huh?" I bit out, confused as to what was happening.
"Shhh hold still I'm trying to concentrate. Or do you not want your Aura unlocked after all."
I froze. Fuck yeah I did. For once I decided to keep my mouth shut lest I say something to make him change his mind. I could see his face grow serious and all of a sudden I could feel... something. Something at the edges of my senses moving, tugging at something in the back of my mind.
"Midas King" My father's voice interrupted my investigation of the new sensation, bring all my attention to him. "Do you swear to always use your abilities to help those less fortunate than you, to protect the innocent." I stood straighter under his hand, my body feeling the importance of what was happening. I answered.
"I do."
"Do you swear to fight those who would do harm to others, be they man or Grimm."
"I do."
"Do you swear to not just follow the laws of men and kings, but to do what is moral and just."
"I do."
"And do you swear that no matter what, you will listen to your heart and do what you think is right"
"I do"
"By my power I unlock your soul and place this burden, this responsibility, on your shoulders. I hope that you will forgive me."
The next two years passed in a blur. After my mother finished laying into my father for effectively condemning me to a life of combat my father sat me down and explained a few things which weren't explained in books on the subject. Turns out Aura was good for a lot more than just protecting its wielder from harm but making them stronger and faster and well. While these effects didn't usually manifest in a clearly tangible way until the user learned to control and focus their Aura through their body, if a person had enough of it naturally then a small increase in physical ability could be felt straight away. And... welll... I had lots. Or so my father told me. Not a cheesy B list action hero who could stop a Nevermore with just one punch amount but a large amount none the less. I assumed it had something to do with me being reincarnated, after all Aura came from the soul and my soul was obviously quite a resilient one. I chose not to question it. Why argue with a good thing?
After giving me a brief rundown of what to expect now I had my Aura unlocked my father took me out back for a spar to get a bit of feel for things and to see if I could block a blow with my Aura without training. Naturally I couldn't, my Aura shield weak and unfocused, but after being smacked all around the yard with a wooden training sword I got a bit frustrated and struck back. I don't think either of us expected my hard wood sword to shatter like that but judging from the grin on my father's face it certainly wasn't an unwelcome development. From there a few strength test determined that while I wouldn't be bench pressing any Beowolfs any time soon the teenagers I usually faced in combat class were in for a hell of a surprise. I don't know what my father saw when he looked at me upon realizing this but I was immediately banned from sparring anyone besides those trained with Aura. As there was only 18 people in the entire town who met these criteria and most of them were retired I spent a lot of time training with my father.
Under his tutelage I learned how to control my Aura. From strengthening the shield which protected my body to focusing it internally and increasing my strength and speed I learned all the basic lessons and started on my path to becoming a Huntsman. He also taught me his fighting style which, to my surprise, mainly involved working on my speed.
"The biggest problem for those of us who wield heavy weapons is we are slow. All the strength in the world is worthless if you can't hit anything because it's running circle around you."
The logic was clear but let me tell you running sprints while swinging a sword as long as you are really sucked. The results, however, spoke for themselves. My first real combat situation came shortly before my 12th birthday.
I awoke to a pounding at the door downstairs and someone calling for my father.
"Leo, Grimm have made it through the pass" This wasn't unusual, small packs wandered into the valley every now and again but by the urgency in the watchman's voice made it clear something was different. As I climbed out of bed I could hear the door open and the rumbling tone of my father's voice address the guard, too low for even my naturally superior Faunus hearing to make out. I was pulling on my shirt when my door was flung open to reveal my father.
"Midas, get your gear and meet me at the front gate in 2 minutes." I could tell he was in full guardsman mode from the commanding tone of his voice.
"What's the problem" I asked as I buckled my belt. For him to be this serious something must have gone wrong. My thoughts were confirmed when his face turned grim.
"A pack of Beowolfs have gotten though the pass. We don't know how many because Spruce when silent before he could give any more detail. We think they got him."
This was worrying. Spruce was one of the more capable members of the town guard, a retired solider of the Vale army. Without Aura there was no way he could have taken on more than one at a time but he was by far experienced enough to get away before they got him. I gave a nod of understanding to my father and he moved away, no doubt to go and suit up. Hastily I fastened my boots and strapped my sword to my back. Many would think it was irresponsible to take someone as young as I into battle against the Grimm but realistically with my Aura unlocked and the one on one training I had received from the best fighters in the town I was in a better position to handle the Grimm than half the guardsman.
The strap of my sword dug uncomfortably into my shoulder as I ran to the gates but I had no time to readjust it as I got there and moved to stand beside my father. A rough map of the valley had been pinned to the surface of the wall and it was using this he was giving a briefing.
"Four minutes ago we lost contact with outlook one here at the mouth of the pass. Before it went down Spruce re-laid he had observed a pack of Beowolfs exiting the pass. Their number is unknown but we must assume from the speed with which he was overrun it is a lot. We will wait for them here" He motioned to a clearing about a mile from the village "The pack will have to pass this point at some point to get to the village and quite frankly the idea of fighting these bastards in the forest is not an appealing one. Say your goodbyes and let's move out."
With a nod to the men operating the mechanism which locked the gate the doors swung open.
"Stay close to me Midas, I would rather a Grimm get me then your mother if you got lost."
I threw him a brief grin, appreciating the attempt to calm my nerves. No matter how much training I had received the prospect of facing real Grimm at last had my stomach turning. As we moved to the clearing I tried to keep my breathing under control but from the looks of the men around me I mustn't have done the perfect job I thought I had. A rough laugh broke me from my thoughts.
"Don't worry lad, if you can beat a Beowolf half as easily as you can beat your entire class the rest of us may as well go home." I turned to look at the face of my old combat instructor, noting his nonchalant expression and the ease with which he balanced his rifle on his shoulder. "Your dad's an old hand at this, master of strategy. The Grimm will have to be lucky to get within spitting distance of us."
The easy confidence worked to reduce my nerves and I nodded in thanks as he moved off to his designated position. We took a rough semicircle formation on our side of the clearing, some in trees and others on the ground. When everyone was in position my father gave the final order.
"Once they break through the trees let them have it. Beowolfs aren't too smart so no need to try and draw them into the open. If they manage to make it to our side concentrate fire on the rear of their ranks as we handle the closer ones. Now silence, we don't want them to know we are here until it's too late."
For 10 minutes we laid on the ground, eyes trained on the far side of the opening. No one dared move and only the soft panting of men running high on adrenaline could be heard. Nothing moved until suddenly they were just... there. They emerged from the shadows of the trees as though they had been born from them, the only thing marking them apart from the inky blackness of the woods behind them the glow of their red eyes and white of bone mask. These were the creatures of Grimm and they were terrifying. Guns roared around me as the guards opened fire on the creatures, sending the first few crashing to the ground as they were filled with bullets. Over them leapt more Beowolfs, running headfirst into the stream of fire in a mindless attempt to reach our lines. Over the din of gunfire I could hear my father roaring orders. In response the first group of guards reloaded as the second group unleashed upon the enemy, leaving no gap in the rain of bullets. I vaguely heard an order for all melee fighters to form up and get ready to defend those in the trees.
Heart racing I drew my sword as various parts of my training flashed through my mind. I watched as the Grimm seemed to draw closer and closer, each wave making it further than the last. It became clear in the moment the gun squads rotated fire and reloading. There were too many for them to take. We were going to have to fight. I glanced along the line to see the 7 of us who formed the melee team form up. As the only ones in the town with Aura it was our job to act as a shield between the Grimm and those who didn't. Standing at the front of the group, Roar drawn and ready for action was my father. The tide of Grimm drew closer and closer, their sheer numbers overwhelming the guns. They were so close I swear I could count individual strands of fur when with a roar my father leapt into action. It wasn't until that moment I understood the difference between a Huntsman, even a retired one, and the normal person. He fell upon the incoming Grimm like a meteorite, greatsword cutting through their numbers like a scythe through grass. With one swing he split them in two, their powerful arms doing little to stop the golden sword from its deadly path. My view was cut off as the rest of the squad moved in to confront the enemy and, to my surprise, I found myself moving with them.
A single Beowolf, slightly ahead of the rest was my target. With a roar the black beast swung at me but I was prepared, catching the claws on my sword before directing them into the ground. Off balance it swung its other arm only to find itself missing a paw as I sheered through its clumsy strike. It's unknown whether a Grimm is capable of feeling pain or shock but I didn't give it a chance to process its new lopsidedness as I bought my blade overhead and drove it onto its skull with all the strength I could muster. A part of my brain took pride in seeing the beast nearly split in two but that took a back seat as I searched for a new target. I was thankful for the guns keeping the Grimm off my back as I chose the next closest Grimm, lunging forward to meet it with a thrust. The rest of the battle faded into a blur as I sought out Grimm after Grimm, killing one to move onto another until with a cry I removed a Beewolf's head only to look around and find there were no Grimm left standing.
A hand clamped down on my shoulder and I nearly swung at it, still high on adrenaline, but my father's voice cut through the battle haze.
"Easy, easy, they're all gone." He was right, only a few dissolving corpses were left of the pack which had assaulted the valley. My heart leapt with joy only to crash a few moments later when I saw that not all the corpses on the battlefield were dissolving. My throat felt dry as I asked.
"Who did we lose?" As always he didn't sugar-coat it.
"Sky, Ross, Mag, a few others. Sky and Mag ran out of Aura and a few of them managed to make it to the gunners before I could get there. Add that to Spruce and we lost 8 all up."
A bitter feeling welled up in me as I stared at the dissolving corpse in front of me.
"Are there usually so many?" I asked. Losing one or two men on a mission like this was a part of life outside the kingdoms but never had I remembered losing this many.
"No. Not even close. I don't know why but this is at least three times as many as I have ever seen in the valley. Somethings up and I intend to find out what." With a final pat he walked away to oversee the transport of the fallen back to the village and with a final glance at the nearly gone body of the Beowolf, I turned and followed him.
Thank you for reading. If you have any criticism or advice feel free to review or PM me.