Disclaimer: If I owned RWBY, then Pyrrha wouldn't pull off a killer quartet. That was MEAN. The "theme music" was not produced by me, and belongs solely to Bloodborne, Nobuyoshi Suzuki, and From Software.
Huge, ginormous, gargantuan, genuine thanks to Cormag Ravenstaff for helping me while writing this! He's an extremely skilled writer, and has written a bunch of different stuff that will take up so much space up here if I listed them all (also, he has quite the selection of RWBY fanfics), so go check him out! Say a hello! Do whatever! I promise, you'll enjoy his writing immensely! :D *hurries off to read Now the Hunted and The Imperial Promise*
Trust not the ice that flatters and constrains thee
But place faith in the fires that thou canst free
"Follow me."
It was what the maroon-haired individual told him several minutes ago as they entered the ransacked ruins. It was obvious that it was destroyed not too long ago, give or take a handful of weeks. Much of everything was charred from the past fires. Parts of previous Atlesian automated models were scattered about, some looking as if they were ripped apart by some demonic force.
Unfortunately, said individual was somehow lost from his sight now, leaving him all alone in the wreckage of some old facility in the middle of a dark forest in the middle of nowhere. If anyone else was in his place, maybe they would be jittery, nervous, anxious and filled with apprehension.
[ Ludwig, the Accursed - Nobuyoshi Suzuki ]
But not this one Huntsman-in-training. Creepy as the mechanic remains were, he kept his composure masterfully, calmly looking for any signs or trails his instructor may have left. It wasn't as if he was an exceptionally stealthy person.
His search was interrupted with a soft rumbling from the twisted rubble. A gloved hand inched towards the sword sheathed at his back. Youthful, red eyes shifted towards the origin of the disturbance. Save for his softened breaths and the faint forest breeze moving just stray strands of his tame, white hair, nothing else seemed to stir the pregnant silence.
Straining his eyes, he took careful watch of the artificial, skeletal remains of the facility.
Yet another twitch.
His muscled tensed, his breathing slowed even-
Then everything exploded. Debris went flying like shrapnel, and were it not for his quick reflexes and the convenient broadness of his blade, he surely would have not gotten out of this initial confrontation alive. Before the smoke began to clear, an eight-legged robot jumped out onto the disturbed forest grounds, a blaster on what appeared to be its head cooling down. The outdated automaton immediately zeroed in on the ungraduated teen and took upon a threatening stance, giving off its intention to pounce or blast him at any second, whichever action it would prefer to perform, like a mechanical spider about to attack its prey. It wouldn't be too surprising if it could, in some way, release a liquid toxin against its enemies.
A metallic scream pulsed out.
He really hoped it can't as his feet shifted positions, holding his blade between his opponent and himself.
The sword had a strange translucent, turquoise blade, alluding to its more dust-oriented nature. Its broadness in comparison with its size looked almost laughable if it didn't also look like a weapon of mass destruction. The hilt was sparsely decorated, instead homing what seem to be colored buttons. Despite his deceptively thin figure, he seemed to wield it with no problem at all, pointing it out with the tip facing the robot.
Silence could have almost settled again if the automaton chose not to fire repetitively at the teen. He moved effortlessly out of the way, using his sword to block whatever he couldn't dodge before running back to give his own strike. The metal-like crystal struck metal, and it carved a deep groove into the robot. It staggered back from the sheer force, trying to recollect itself together in vain, as with another slash it had easily been hacked apart.
Still not over his sudden adrenaline rush, he looked about, and nearly had been jumped on by two more identical models. He crashed into the remains of the unknown facility, quickly scrambling back up, using his sword as a crutch, simultaneously backstepping out of a bladed swipe.
Whoever had owned this place before, they certainly were extremely serious about security here.
He frantically pressed a green button on the hilt while bracing the onslaught of metallic appendages and swung his blade. It was a poor hit, but it didn't matter. Both sides of the fight were blown away with a green-tinged gale, the human's blade briefly glowing with a brilliance of the same hue before returning to its natural state. He took the short moment of respite he had to take account of what exactly he had gotten himself into.
Br-brrrt!
Atop the scarred pile of steel, he spotted three more of them join their motley robot band.
He readied himself and jumped down, yelling out a war cry. All of them scuttled out of the way, but with another press of a different switch, the now-tan blade created a quake as both it and its owner struck the ground with immense force, knocking over a few of their numbers, as well as raising a rock spire or two. He quickly took advantage of his chance and cut apart a stray robot. He whipped around, and suddenly there were two more. Undeterred, the blade turned white at another press, and he swing horizontally, making a pillar of light collide violently into another robot, effectively burning it, at least.
A shadow sporting eight legs fell over him, screeching nails on a chalkboard, and he took no time to roll out of the way as a robot got stuck in the ground instead of his own flesh. A few fired bullets, bullets that he did his best to avoid some and wincing at the rest. He swung his sword at a robot, blowing a dent into its body that he only made worse with a finishing thrust. Sparks and wire fell out, but the rookie made no effort to stop and admire his handiwork.
He resetted his stance and stood his ground as one more robot joined the fray. A leg nearly sliced his jacket open, and he almost missed blocking a flurry of bullets. Another got to his arm and just missed the stitched white emblazoned emblem. Through the fight, his bastard sword held strong, effectively utilizing both dust and raw strength to smite his opponents.
He found a head he could strike at, and took the chance.
But missed.
His hasty move brought its consequences as bladed legs shoved him into the air, then one, two, four blasts of pure fire launched at him, throwing him back to the pile of debris, disturbing it in the process.
[ Ludwig, the Holy Blade - Nobuyoshi Suzuki ]
Smoke set in the air, obscuring even the automaton's extrasensory receptors. They continually scanned their surroundings, searching for confirmation of the trespasser's demise. The forest seemed to tremble at the display of such cold mechanical violence, yet dared not to voice its protests.
A whirring, robotic Morse code of clicks and soft screeches.
One sensed heat, and readied a barrel at its way, waited for a moment, and fired.
The lack of any further sound only pointed at no purchase.
Crrk?
Firing again.
Nevermind, there was a sound, yet it seemed like a brick hitting rubber.
They could hear heavy breathing, but because of the ashen mist, it was difficult to place it on a fixed point. A dim hum resounded, and they all focused on what has most likely the decaying metal skeleton of the former building.
The smoke cleared like a knife through butter, and the swordsman stood proudly, even while sporting a nasty bruise and a burn or two. He was outlined in glowing white, making his pale skin seem all the more ghostly, and his warm, red eyes shone with determination.
And his sword, his sword, a brilliant red-orange.
All of the robots were met directly with projected gales of a firestorm and were reluctantly pushed back, seared black whenever they were hit, alone and collectively. They tried to fire back their own shots, bullets and explosives both, but even when hitting him head-on, they had no effect on his fiery advance.
His blade was literally melting whatever metal it touched, and the fires morphed into molten lava as it passed through its latest foe. Numbers were useless to the robots at this point, instead just adding smoldering carcasses into the battlefield.
Or frozen ones. Whichever way the swordsman preferred it.
The impervious semblance was a glowing shield around his body, perfectly protecting him from any harm, even as his movements were visibly slowed. It didn't matter how fast he was anyways, since he overpowered every robot that dared to rear its spindly, hinged legs.
His red blade sliced through a pale attempt of blocking legs, then hacked off its head and slashed at another foe. A thrust shattered another apart, and many more were mowed down by a charging rush.
A sickle-like arm stabbed down, stopping by a bare hand, the other bringing a blade up and halving its body. Another molten fire shot at the boy, stopped by the flat of his equally-red-hot blade.
Every move of his had a slow, gargantuan grace to it, like watching an elephant walk. There was nothing sophisticated about his blows, but every swing foretold power and grandeur from the individual, a person of few words and few decorations but of many actions, and so, many successful results.
And at the end of this battle of endurance, whether his semblance and aura or their numbers would run out?
His breaths were labored as his beloved sword dropped to the ground, giving a small smile of success. The remains of old contraptions were strewn apart across the ground, only adding to the ruins of the local wreckage, freshly defeated.
A maroon-haired man ran towards his direction, his expression concerned, this surprised, then confused, having come here to investigate the disturbance.
The teen could not wait to tell him what had just happened.
A G T M
Aodhfin: Irish / white fire
Sterling: English / derived from "sterling silver"
"Gwallgof": Welsh word for "lunatic". A bastard sword with an abnormally broad blade, its major boon is its blade's ability to channel and produce projectiled dust-elemented slashes.
His semblance is the ability to tank hits with the drawback of slowed movements.
A/N:
What are these for specifically, you may ask? Trailers for a bunch of people in a future RWBY x Bloodborne crossover. Why isn't it under that category? Well, aside from the glaringly obvious references, there's no Bloodborne here. Just some cool dudes fighting and stuff.
I hope you enjoyed it, and believe me when I say that I am thirsty for constructive criticism. There's quite literally nothing that I will stop at to improve as a growing writer. Except maybe sleep.
Expect seven more.