HEEEEELLLLOOOOOO! I'm glad to see that the last chapter got some good feedback. Already it has over thirty followers and over twenty favorites and a few reviews, which as far as I'm concerned is pretty good for the first chapter.
In this chapter we'll be covering a bit more about what the Strigoi are exactly, their history, their abilities, and so on and so forth.
I would also like to point out a lore thing I'm doing. Since we have no proof that the mythology of Vampires is a common thing in the world of RWBY I'm going to say that in this fic most people, save a few scholars and historians, are unaware of what Vampires are or their mythology, meaning that pretty much no one would be able to know what a Vampire is without it being explained to them.
Also very big thanks to Last Rose Of May on RWBY amino for the wonderful cover art! You go girl!
With all that out of the way, ON WITH THE STORY!
Hazel, along with his two lieutenants, the twins Puriu and Gri, watched as the boy slept peacefully on his cot as the wounds he had suffered healed. It had been two days since the attack on Beacon and his aura had refilled enough to start patching him up, aided with what little medical assistance the Strigoi were able to provide, which had really just been tying splints around his legs to ensure they healed properly.
"What are you going to tell him?" asked Gri as he ran a hand through his short ivory hair. "When he wakes up that is. I doubt he'll just go along with becoming a Vampire if he knows what we are, and who we serve." In terms of combat prowess Gri was second only to Hazel. The tall and lanky Vampire wielded his twin curved daggers with wicked efficiency, capable of using them to snip off bits and pieces of his foes and dragging out their pain, or cutting a vital organ or artery with a single swift strike, killing them in seconds. Typically he preferred the first method, as he liked to play with his food before digging in.
"The best lies are those with some truth mixed in," Hazel replied, "I'll tell him what I want him to know. By the time he realizes the whole truth he'll be one of us, and there will be no going back, assuming he even wants to." The process of becoming a Vampire had a way of corrupting everything about a person. Few, if any, Vampires retained any sense of their humanity after their conversion, and those that did wound up losing it as time went on.
"And what if he refuses to join us, or decides he wants to leave at some point before or after his conversion?" asked Puriu as she twirled a finger in long black locks that made Cinder's hair look like a collection of blackened seaweed by comparison. Gri's twin sister wasn't quite as skilled in combat as her brother, but she was more than capable with her rapier, and her real skill lied in her abilities of persuasion and seduction. She was a master of using her words and body to get what she wanted, and with proper use of both she could turn anyone to putty in her hands. Anyone save Hazel, at least. She had once tried to seduce the Vampire Lord for her own ends, but only once. She had learned the hard way the cost of trying to subvert his authority, and she had been a loyal warrior ever since.
"I want your help with that," he said. "Befriend the boy, make him believe he can confide in you. If he tells you that he has any desires to leave you are convince him to stay, then let me know. If you somehow can't convince him to stay then we'll just kill him."
Puriu raised an eyebrow at Hazel. "You want me to lay with the boy?"
"If you feel that's what it takes to convince him to stay," responded Hazel, "or if you simply want to, then go ahead. I don't care what you do to him, as long as you make him stay."
"You really think he can survive being blooded by you?" asked Gri. "I mean, you're the first of the Stirgoi. You've attempted to blood men and women far more capable than this boy, and they all died. What makes you think he'll survive?"
"Nothing. It's just a gut instinct on my part. Maybe he'll make it through the blooding, and maybe he won't. Either I gain a powerful new Vampire, or I lose nothing."
Gri grunted and shrugged. "Perhaps he'll surprise us. How long do you think it'll be until he's ready to start moving?"
"Hopefully not much longer." Hazel turned and walked out of the tent the boy was being kept in and into the night, his lieutenants following him. "Puriu, I want you to keep an eye on the boy and ensure none of the others try to feed on him. Gri, I want you to scout out the first of the White Fang encampments we've been sent to clear out."
Jaune groaned as his eyes fluttered open. His vision was blurry, and his head was pounding like someone had hit it with a hammer. He tried to push himself up, but a hand on his chest stopped him and gently pushed him back down. "Easy there," said a woman whose voice was like silk, "you're still pretty injured. I'd hate for you to move too much and ruin all my hard work."
He allowed himself to be pushed back down onto his back, though as weak as he felt Jaune doubted he would have been able to stop whoever this was if he wanted to. "W-where am I?" he groaned.
"You're with friends," the woman said. He turned towards the voice, but his vision was still blurred, and he couldn't make out anything beyond a vague shape. "The Grimm messed you up pretty good, especially that Ursa Major."
He frowned in confusion and closed his eyes tightly then opened them, which cleared his sight enough for him to more or less make out the person talking.
She was a beautiful woman with long black hair that ran down to her waist, with crimson eyes and skin the color of snow. She smiled warmly at him, and he felt his face heat up. He realized he was staring open mouthed at her and he looked away from her. Bringing his mind back to the matter at hand, he asked her, "what Ursa? My memory is... fuzzy." Something had happened, but he couldn't remember what...
"We found you in the middle of the forest just outside of Vale. Grimm had you surrounded, and we arrived just as you killed that Ursa Major. We killed the other Grimm and took you back with us to our encampment to patch you up. How are you feeling?
He was feeling less than amazing all things considered, but... "why was I in the forest?"
The beautiful woman shrugged. "We were hoping you could tell us that."
He frowned and closed his eyes, trying to remember. The last thing he could recall was the Vytal festival tournament. Pyrrha had just-
Pyrrha.
His eyes flew open as the events of that night returned to him and he shoved himself up into a sitting position. He tried to get out of the cot he was on, but her hand on his chest stopped him again. He tried to resist her, but he was either weaker than he thought or she was much stronger than she looked, because she pushed him back down onto his back with laughable ease.
"Let me go!" he shouted as he struggled vainly against her, "I have to get back to Vale!" He had to get back to the others. Ren and Nora were injured and he needed to be there for them, and Pyrrha... Weiss could have been wrong.
She had to be alive. She had to be.
"Easy," cooed the woman as he held him down with one hand and ran the other through his hair. The feel of her slender fingers slipping through his hair calmed him somewhat and he stopped struggling to get up. "As you are right now you couldn't make it back to Vale on your own anyway. Your legs were broken by the Ursa Major, and while your aura is working overtime to fix you up it'll be at least a few days before you're able to stand, let alone make it all the way back to Vale on foot."
"Why didn't you take me to a hospital in Vale?" he asked, his tone snappish. "Why did you bring me here?"
The woman smiled sadly at him. "My kind aren't exactly welcome in Vale, or most settlements."
"Your kind?"
The woman stood up from her spot beside him. "I'll let the man in charge explain things. I'll go get him now." She stepped towards the tent flap and pulled the hood of a cloak he hadn't realized she'd been wearing up over her head. She turned and smiled at Jaune, which despite himself set his heart pounding. "I'm Puriu by the way. What's your name?"
He blinked. "Uh, Jaune."
Her smile grew even brighter. "Well 'Uh, Jaune'," she teased, "It's nice to meet you."
With that she stepped out of the tent and into the sunlight, leaving Jaune alone.
It was a good thing too, because as soon as the tent flap closed behind her Jaune burst into tears as it hit him all over again.
He'd failed to save Pyrrha.
He'd failed his partner and best friend. He'd failed to stop her from going off on a suicide mission against impossible odds.
Why? Why had she gone?
It was his fault. If he'd been stronger, faster, braver, maybe he would have been able to hold off that woman until Pyrrha had been able to absorb whatever power that had been that she had stolen. Because of his incompetence, Pyrrha had died.
He was worthless.
A tug on the tent flap drew Jaune's attention. "Come in." He croaked. He didn't know how long it had been since he had stopped crying. He didn't really care. All he knew was that he was all out of tears.
The tent flap was pushed aside, and a mountain of a human being stepped inside and lowered the hood of his black cloak. He was a massive man, well over six feet tall if not over seven feet, with broad shoulders and a body that was packed with muscle underneath an outfit of black leather and a steel breastplate. He had short brown hair, a beard, and hazel eyes. Twin axes were hanging off of a belt around his waist, their edges sharp and dangerous.
Jaune barely registered any of it. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Who are you?" he asked.
"Hazel," the man said simply. "You're Jaune, according to Puriu. How are you feeling?"
Jaune shrugged. "My legs are broken, I've run away from my teammates and am now surrounded by complete strangers, and my best friend and partner is dead. How do you think I feel?"
If Hazel took offense to the tone of Jaune's voice he didn't show it. Instead he sat on the ground next to Jaune's cot. "Can you tell me what happened at Vale? We were passing by when we heard fighting, but we didn't dare try to enter the city."
"Why?" Jaune asked, "are you bandits?" He hoped they were. If they were bandits then there was a possibility that they would kill him. Though he doubted they would go through the trouble of saving his life and then nursing him back to health just to kill him later. Oh well.
"No," Hazel said, "we are... well, you'll see. First, can you tell me about what happened in the city?"
Jaune shrugged again. "Long story short, White Fang and Grimm attacked Amity stadium and Beacon Academy. The academy is gone, fallen to the Grimm, but I don't know what happened to the stadium."
Hazel leaned forward in interest. "White Fang and Grimm? You mean the White Fang attack drew in the Grimm?"
Jaune shook his head. "Maybe it did, but I know the White Fang actually flew in a lot of Grimm on Bullheads. Beacon tower was destroyed too." Just thinking about the tower was enough to make him think about Pyrrha, but he didn't cry or make a sound. He was all out of sorrow. All that was left was a hollow emptiness where once there had been emotion.
Hazel leaned back from Jaune and nodded to himself, then turned his gaze on the blonde. "Earlier, you said your best friend and partner had died. What happened?"
"She died," he snarled at the man, "it was my fault. What more do you really need to know about that?"
The large man shrugged. "Nothing, I suppose." He was silent for a moment, then he said. "What about your other friends?"
"They're okay," Jaune muttered, "they're alive at least. I need to get back to them as soon as I can walk again."
"Do you?"
"Well yeah. They're my teammates, and I'm their leader. I need to be there for them."
"Really?" asked Hazel, "it doesn't sound like your presence did much to save your dead friend."
Red rage clouded Jaune's vision and he tried to fling himself at Hazel, but the combination of his broken legs and the man's titanic strength resulted in him being pinned down to the cot with the large man's hand on his chest. Jaune swung a fist at the larger man's face, but Hazel easily grabbed his arm by the wrist and pinned his arm to his chest, then did the same with the other arm when Jaune tried to punch him again. Jaune tried to struggle up into a sitting position, but he couldn't get his back even a centimeter off of the cot. "Ask yourself Jaune," the large man said calmly, "what good would your presence in Vale really do? You already said that your friend's death was your fault. Can you honestly tell me that it wouldn't happen again? That you're strong enough to protect them as you are now?"
That took the fight out of the boy. He stopped struggling against the iron grip of Hazel, and the larger man released him and leaned back. "No," Jaune muttered numbly, "I'm not." The battle of Beacon had made that abundantly clear. He was more of a liability than anything else. His presence would only put his friends in more danger as they tried to protect the weakest member of their group. Just like Pyrrha had.
"You're not," agreed Hazel. The large man leaned forward. "You could be however."
Jaune turned his head to look at Hazel. There was an odd gleam in the larger man's eyes. It was eagerness mixed with... something else. Something dark. "What do you mean?"
Hazel closed his eyes, and right before Jaune began to change. His tanned skin paled until it was white like freshly fallen snow. When the larger man opened his eyes they were no longer hazel, but the crimson of blood. "Tell me Jaune," said the man, exposing a set of fangs in place of where normal teeth should be, "have you ever heard of a Strigoi?"
Eyes wide with fright and awe Jaune sat up and leaned away from Hazel. "A-a what?"
"A Strigoi," repeated Hazel, his crimson eyes flashing in the light of the thin beam that illuminated the tent through the flap, "or 'Vampire' in the common tongue of this day and age."
Jaune shook his head no, totally transfixed by the Hazel's sudden change. "What are Strigoi?"
"Many millennia ago I was a normal man like you. In fact I believe I was the same age as you are now when I was turned into what I am now. In the time I lived there were no Grimm, but that didn't mean I lived in a world with no threats."
"I had a mother, a father, sisters I loved dearly, a good job as a village guard, and many friends. However one day bandits attacked the village, and all that changed. The other guards and I fought tooth and nail against them, but there were just too many and we were overwhelmed. I was forced to watch as the bandits killed my father, forced themselves on my mother and sisters, then killed them too. When finally they came to me I was sure I was going to die, but something started picking them off one by one. Whatever it was moved too fast for me to see beyond a blur, and after watching dozens of their comrades be slaughtered within seconds the others broke and ran, leaving me with the thing that had attacked them. To my shock it was a woman with crimson eyes, pale skin, and fangs where normal teeth should be. I thought I was going to be her next victim, but instead of killing me she cut my bonds and told me that she could give me the power I would need in order to bring revenge down upon those who had taken what I loved from me. In return all I had to give up was my humanity. Filled with grief and rage I accepted, and the woman granted me power like hers. She dubbed me the first of the Strigoi, but told me that in time I would meet others she would turn, others who would bend knee to me as the lord of the Strigoi. With this new power I went out and hunted down the ones who had killed those I love, and slaughtered them to the last man. It was at this slaughter that I learned of the dark side of the Strigoi, of how we are so powerful."
Hazel took a flask Jaune hadn't noticed before off of his belt and held it out to the boy. "Take a sip."
Jaune took the flask from Hazel, removed the lid, and sniffed the contents. The smell was... oddly metallic. "What is it?"
"You'll see. Take a sip, and you'll know how my kind get their power."
Cautiously Jaune titled the flask back and took a sip from it. The second the cold liquid within touched his tongue Jaune's eyes widened in horror and he wrenched the flask away from him lips, unable to stop the small amount he'd poured into his mouth from going down his throat. Hazel calmly took the flask from Jaune as a drop of the crimson liquid within dripped down his chin and onto the boy's ragged hoodie. "W-Was that... was that..."
"Blood," confirmed Hazel, who pressed the flask against his own lips and downed the contents of it, his eyes closed. When the flask was empty he lowered it and opened his eyes. The crimson irises seemed to glow for a second before the light faded. "The Strigoi get their power from and thirst for blood. If we were to go without drinking it for too long we would go blood mad and attack the first living thing we see, and if we were to go even longer without drinking we would eventually just keel over and die."
Jaune reached a hand up to instinctively cover his throat. "I-is that why you saved me? To... to drink my blood?"
Hazel chuckled, a low rumbling sound that seemed to shake the air around him, and shook his head. "If I wanted to drain you I would have done it already. No, I saved you for a different reason. I watched you fight those Grimm and I saw potential in you. You're not the best or strongest fighter no, but you are driven, you don't bend in the face of the greatest odds, and you've got a black rage buried deep inside of you." Hazel's grew more intense and he leaned towards Jaune. "I saved you because I see potential inside of you. I want to make you one of us Jaune."
"I want to make you one of the Strigoi."
Three days later Jaune was able to walk again.
He stepped out of the tent and into the moonlight, looking at the encampment around him.
Strigoi, as he'd learned from Hazel, burned when exposed to sunlight which was why they wore full body suits of armor and hooded cloaks. As long as the the sun didn't touch their bare skin a Strigoi was fine in open daylight, but if any part of them was exposed to sunlight they needed to find shade or something to cover themselves with before they literally burned to ash.
Just another price for power it seemed. A price many people had deemed worth paying, if the number of Vampires in the camp was any indicator. Hundreds of men and women with blood red eyes and pale skin populated the camp, either performing duties put forth for them, training, or talking in groups. There few if any fires in the camp. While the light of a camp fire didn't harm Vampires they couldn't feel cold and most preferred their meat raw, so they didn't bother with cooking fires.
"Finally up and about then? It's good to see you on your feet. I always hate to see big strong men lying around."
Jaune turned to the familiar voice and tried to smile, but it fell. The beautiful Puriu was making her way over to him, onyx locks swaying gently as she walked. Despite himself Jaune couldn't help but notice the way her full hips also swayed beneath her leather armor. "Hey Puriu."
Over the past three days he had struck up a fast friendship with the Vampiress. She had listened to him and was helping him through his grief of losing Pyrrha. He hadn't cried since the first time he'd done so since waking up, but the grief was still eating a hole in his chest. It was a hole that the beautiful Puriu's friendship was helping to seal, slowly but surely.
She bumped her shoulder against his as she came to stand beside him. "How are the legs?"
He shrugged, "better, but a bit shaky still. It'll be a bit longer before I go anywhere outside the camp."
She frowned. "Are you still thinking about leaving?"
Was he?
He remembered the rest of what Hazel had told him about the Strigoi. To turn into one of them was to accept your innate darkness and become something almost akin to a Grimm. To the black beasts Strigoi were similar enough that Grimm would usually ignore them, and some Strigoi could actually command Grimm to bend to their will. To sate their innate blood lust Hazel and his Vampires hunted down and killed bandits and White Fang members, slaughtering entire camps of them and draining the bodies of blood to store what they didn't drink immediately for later. The idea of drinking blood, be it human or animal, was revolting to the blonde, even if it was the blood of people like the White Fang.
But...
Jaune was weak. He knew he was. He had always known he was the weakest not only amongst his friends, but in the whole of Beacon. His presence had done nothing to save anyone, and would only continue to drag down the others. They were better off without him.
The thought of drinking blood revolted Jaune. The thought of losing his humanity to become a thing of darkness horrified him.
But if it meant becoming something that could make a difference?
He decided he could get used to the taste of blood.
"I'm staying," he assured her. "I can do more good here than I ever could at Beacon."
Puriu smiled, her fangs glinting in the moonlight. The first time she'd done that Jaune had flinched away from her out of instinct. Now it didn't seem so threatening. "That's good to hear. Does Hazel know?"
Jaune shook his head. "I was about to go tell him."
"I'll come with you," she offered. The two of them made their way over to the large tent in the center of camp that Hazel utilized. As they walked they passed by many other Strigoi who uttered a greeting to Puriu and barely spared a glance for the blonde boy next to her. A few sniggered at him before glancing away and continuing with what they were doing. After the third did this Jaune turned to Puriu, confused. "What's so funny? Are they not used to seeing a human?"
"We don't get potential recruits very often," admitted Puriu, "we've only had three or four over the past couple of years, and if I remember correctly two of them died before they could be blooded."
One of the blonde's eyebrows rose. "Before they could be blooded?" Hazel had explained the blooding process to Jaune, and how dangerous it was. The act itself was simply a Vampire offering up some of his or her own blood to a potential Strigoi, who had to drink willingly. The process of turning from a human to a Vampire was indescribably painful and it always ended in one way: death.
To become a Vampire one had to die. However those who were strong enough would be resurrected soon after as a Strigoi, making them truly undead. While alive again a Strigoi's skin was cold to the touch, like a corpse's, and they were incapable of having children. Their blood still pumped, their hearts still beat, and their brains still operated, but some part of them would always remain dead. That part was their aura. A Strigoi's soul was a corrupted mockery of what it once was, resulting in a loss of the protective qualities of aura, meaning a killing blow that made contact could kill a Strigoi. However killing a Vampire was far easier said than done. Though a Vampire's aura no longer protected them they had other advantages to make up for this. Strigoi were far faster and stronger than humans, making it nearly impossible for anyone save a fully fledged huntsman to land a blow on them, and even for a huntsman it was a task far easier said then done. Another advantage that all Strigoi had was the ability to utilize an ability called glamour.
Glamour allowed Vampires to cast an illusion over their bodies, making something seem like it wasn't. However a Strigoi's body did not actually change, rather it just seemed like it did. If a Vampire utilized glamour to change their eye color from crimson to brown it would seem to anyone looking at them that they had brown eyes, but as soon as the glamour dissipated their eye color would return to crimson.
"How did those two people die?" asked Jaune. In a camp populated with literal blood suckers Jaune could imagine how they died, but he hoped he was wrong.
Puriu must have sensed the nervousness in Jaune's question because she laughed, a sweet sound that managed to make him feel a little better every time he heard it. "We didn't attack them silly boy," she teased, "but the life of a Strigoi is a dangerous one, especially for those who haven't turned yet. There's always the risk of death when assaulting a bandit or White Fang encampment."
He nodded. That made sense. "What about the other two?"
"They both survived their own blooding and are now fully fledged Strigoi. Just like you will be someday."
A small smile crossed Jaune's lips before it fell again. "You have a lot of faith in me."
The Vampiress shrugged. "So does Hazel, and he's normally right about these things. If he says you'll make it as a Vampire, then you'll make it as one of us. However," her gaze on him turned deadly serious. "The fact that you're human isn't why they're laughing at you."
He frowned in confusion. "Then why?"
Puriu stopped walking and placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him too. She placed a finger on the center of his chest. "That is why they're laughing at you."
Jaune looked down and saw that her finger was on the rabbit face on the center of his Pumpkin Pete's hoodie. He had totally forgotten that he had been wearing the hoodie in the first place. Normally his armor would have covered the rabbit face, but like his sword and shield his breastplate and spaulders were with the blacksmith, who was waiting until Jaune came to see him before doing anything with his old gear.
Puriu couldn't keep a giggle from slipping through her lips and shook her head. "Why don't you take the silly thing off? It's not that cold anyway." Her crimson eyes twinkled with mirth. "Or are you wearing nothing under there? Afraid that if you bare your abs to the world the ladies won't be able to keep their hands off of you?" She winked at him. "Afraid that I won't be able to keep my hands off of you?"
Jaune's cheek began to redden as he glanced away from her. "No I'm wearing a shirt under this, it's just..." he sighed. "It reminds me of Pyrrha."
Puriu's smile turned sad, and she cupped his cheek in her hand to turn his face back to her. Her hand was cold on his bare cheek, and when she brushed her thumb against his cheekbone he shuddered involuntarily. "I know it hurts Jaune," she said kindly, "but take it from someone who's lived far longer than you by a couple of centuries. Clinging to her like this will only hurt you and drag you down. I'm not saying you need to completely forget about your old teammate, but you do need to be able to move on. After all," her hand trailed down his face and came to a stop underneath his chin, where her finger gently rubbed the skin beneath his bottom lip, sending small shocks through his body, "the sooner you move on, the stronger you can become. I know this whole situation is strange to you, but in time you'll see us like family." She removed her hand from his face and stepped back from him. For a few seconds Jaune just stood there. He knew she was right, but taking off his old sweater would be like a first step on a strange and unusual path. He would leave his old life and dreams behind him. He would start down a path he never thought he would ever walk.
Jaune grabbed the hem of the hoodie and pulled it up over his head, then fully removed it. In the process he pulled the green shirt he was wearing underneath it up a bit and he pulled the shirt back down after slinging the hoodie over his shoulder. Puriu winked at him. "Seems I wasn't wrong. Not the best abs I've ever seen, but certainly up there on my list."
He turned a bit redder. "Thanks," he muttered, "we should go see Hazel." The two walked the rest of the way to the Vampire Lord's tent in comfortable silence. When they reached it Puriu tugged on the tent flap and a few seconds later they heard Hazel's gravely voice telling them to enter.
The two stepped inside to see Hazel bent over a map of the surrounding area. On the map were two flags, one to mark their own encampment and another to mark what Jaune presumed to be the White Fang encampment that Hazel had told him they were preparing to assault. The large man looked up at them and nodded to them. "Finally up and about then?" he rumbled.
Jaune nodded. "I won't be running marathons anytime soon, but I can walk on my own."
Hazel grunted. "Have you made a decision on whether or not you're staying?"
"I'm staying," confirmed the blonde. "I can actually be useful if I stay with you."
Hazel smiled, something Jaune could tell was a pretty rare event, and nodded. "That's good to hear." He stood straight and took a swig from the blood flask he kept on his belt. "Let's go pay old Blackhands a visit. It's time we took care of your equipment issue."
"So this is him, huh?" grunted the blacksmith. Dubbed 'old Blackhands' by the other Strigoi due to the fact that he had already been in his late thirties by the time he had been turned and the fact that his hands were almost always blackened with soot, the blacksmith was the one in charge of ensuring that his fellow Strigoi were properly armed and armored, and ensured their equipment remained in good order. Blackhands was a snake faunus if the odd shape of his pupils and snake skin on his arms were any indicator. He had a beard and thick black hair with just a touch of grey in them, and wore a white shirt and blue jeans with a blacksmith's apron over all of it. He was almost as tall as Hazel and just as broad across the shoulders.
He had been holding onto the ruined remains of Jaune's armor and weapons. Jaune could see them lying haphazardly in on a table in the center of the room. The breastplate and spaulders were pitted, scored, and dented from his battle against the Grimm. His shield was crumpled in on itself, forming a bowl and damaged beyond any repair. The sword was shattered, the shards of it littering the table with only a couple inches of steel still attached to the crossguard.
"Alright then," grunted Blackhands, "take it off."
Jaune turned towards the blacksmith in shock. "I'm sorry?"
Blackhands growled something about kids these days. "Your shirt boy! Take it off! If I'm gonna get your proper measurements I need you to ditch the shirt! Gods, don't kids today know anything?"
Jaune turned around and looked at Hazel and Puriu, or more specifically, at Puriu. "I don't guess I could ask you to leave, could I?" he asked weakly.
The Vampiress smirked and leaned against a table. "Of course not silly."
Jaune sighed and turned back to the front. "I guess that's not so surprising."
As he lifted the shirt up over his head he heard someone chuckle. "Never knew you had a thing for humans little Puriu."
"Hush," she snapped at him.
Jaune hoped his face wasn't too red.
He dropped the shirt on the ground next to himself, and the blacksmith started walking around Jaune and started examining him. Though he could feel Blackhands' eyes roving over his form it didn't feel invasive. The old man's gaze felt professional and impersonal, as though he had done this a thousand times before, which if Jaune had to guess he probably had.
The second set of eyes roving over his form however felt much more personal however, and he felt he had a good guess as to who it was staring at him. A quick glance backwards confirmed his suspicions, as he could see Puriu staring at his back appreciatively. She winked at him and mouthed, "not bad."
His cheeks turning scarlet Jaune turned back to the front as Blackhands began muttering to himself. "Hmmm... bit on the scrawny side, but that's to be expected considering he was out of it for a couple days. Broad shoulders and chest... strong arms from holding that shield and swinging that sword around... definitely a strength fighter... hmmm... could put on a lot of muscle with the right diet and work out..." he stopped pacing and nodded. "Alright boy, listen up and listen well, cause I don't like repeating myself. You're scrawny, but you got potential. With the right diet and exercise you might be worth turning in a couple of months. However a good Strigoi has good equipment, and you," he wrapped his knuckles on the crumpled shield, "need some new equipment. How much experience you got using swords and shields?"
"Not much," admitted Jaune. "Just a few months."
Blackhands nodded. "I thought so. Your hands are well calloused, but the callouses are all wrong for wielding a sword. You grew up a farm, didn't you?"
"Uh, yeah," Jaune said in surprise, "I did. how'd you-"
"The callouses boy! The callouses on your hands! Those are the callouses of someone more used to gripping a plow, hoe, or hammer than a sword. True you got some swordsman callouses on your hands, but not nearly enough for someone who's dedicated their life to fighting with a sword." He peered at Jaune. "How often did you use a hammer and an axe on that farm boy?"
Jaune shrugged. "Just whenever something needed to be fixed or wood needed to be chopped I guess..."
"You guess or you did?!" snapped Blackhands.
"I did," Jaune corrected. "Whenever something was being fixed or built I always helped out. Hammering nails in place, driving stakes and fence posts into the ground, cutting wood for lumber or fires, stuff like that."
Blackhands grunted and nodded to himself. "Good. In that case I know what weapons you're going to be using."
Jaune blinked in confusion. Wasn't the blacksmith going to fix his sword and shield? "What do you mean?"
Old Blackhands sighed and rolled his eyes, then pointed at the ruined shield and sword. "I'm going to melt those down into a set of an axe and a hammer for you."
"Oh," Jaune said. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he didn't say anything.
Blackhands must have known he wanted to however, because the blacksmith waved his hands at Jaune impatiently. "Out with it boy. What's the matter?"
"It's just..." Jaune scratched the back of his head. "I know I don't have a lot of experience with a sword and shield, but I have no experience fighting with axes or hammers. Wouldn't it make more sense for me to stick with a sword and shield?"
Blackhands shook his head no. "Maybe if you had about a year's worth experience with a sword and shield, but you only got a few months. Your body is still more accustomed to the feel of construction and farming tools than what many people consider "proper" weapons. Oh I know when people think of fighters they think of huntsmen or soldiers armed with big guns or swords, but fact is there have been many times in history when it was just normal men and women armed with everyday items who defended their homes and families from danger. The axe and the hammer are the common man's weapons, and they're the weapons your body is most suited to using, even if you don't realize it."
Jaune supposed that made some sense. It wasn't like either the sword or shield had been able to save Pyrrha anyway. "Fine with me."
"I know it is," grumbled the blacksmith. He turned to Hazel. "Another thing, I want the boy to help me here in the forge. He needs to work up some muscle and get his strength back. He can start by helping me with forging his new weapons and armor."
Hazel nodded, "very well." he turned to exit the tent and waved to Puriu. "Come. Your brother should be back soon with the report on the White Fang encampment."
Puriu smiled and waved at Jaune. "Bye Jaune. Nice abs by the way." With a wink she was gone.
"Abs?" Jaune looked down and realized he was still shirtless. He looked up at Blackhands. "Uh... Can I put my shirt back on?"
"Yeah, and throw on an apron and some gloves while you're at it." Blackhands went over to the bellows and started pumping them. "Then grab the shards of your sword and bring them over here. We need to get started on your gear."
Jaune tugged on his shirt, threw on one of the thick leather aprons laying on a desk, and pulled on a pair of leather gloves that fit fairly well. He gathered up the broken remains of his sword and placed them in the forge as instructed, where the shards began to melt before his eyes, becoming a formless mass.
Watching his family heirloom be melted down, Jaune knew he had crossed the final divide. There could be no going back to his old life.
He was no longer Jaune Arc the Huntsman. He was now Jaune Arc the unblooded.
WOOO! Quite the chapter huh? Jaune wakes up to find himself surrounded by strange men and women with strange powers and way of life with a literal thirst for blood.
To some it may feel like Jaune is just breezing through losing Pyrrha, but I assure you that's not the case. He's still hurting, and badly, but he's throwing himself into this whole Vampire thing because of her death. He feels weak and worthless and thinks that becoming a Strigoi is the only way he'll ever be strong enough to make sure that never happens again. Puriu's constant attention isn't exactly helping either. Keep in mind she's a master of persuasion and seduction. She knows just how to twist Jaune's grief and teenage hormones to her own ends, essentially making him putty in her hands.
Some might be wondering how on earth (or Remnant) Jaune doesn't think that a bunch of people who literally drink blood to survive are evil, but I'd like to remind you a few things. First: grief. As I've said Jaune isn't thinking too clearly at the moment, which is something Hazel is using to his advantage. On top of that Hazel has told him that they're hunting the White Fang, who are partially responsible for the fall of Beacon and Pyrrha's death, so in Jaune's mind the Strigoi are good guys, even if they're creatures of darkness. Second: Jaune doesn't know what a Vampire is. As I've already established, the lore and mythology of Vampires isn't known by the general populace of Remnant like it is here in the real world, so he has no previous bias for or against these beings of the night. On top of all that Jaune's pretty clueless. If the fact that he somehow managed to totally miss Pyrrha's (rather obvious) affection for him is any indicator he's not the best at picking up on things. That's not to say he's stupid, just not very observant.
Some might be wondering why I keep changing Jaunes weapons in my stories, so let me explain myself. In the universe of RWBY weapons are extensions of the wielder. Every huntsman makes his or her own weapon and modifies it as they see fit, ensuring no two weapons are ever the same. Jaune is the exception to this rule. Instead he uses a family heirloom that has been passed down from one generation to the next of Arcs, but even so it still serves as an extension of who Jaune is. Jaune is clearly proud of his family if the fact that he keeps talking about them (My dad said this or my mom said this) in conversation is anything to go off of, and the fact that he wields the family heirloom supports this theory. However this family pride is not the only reason Crocea Mors suits him so well. In a world where Scythes can also be high impact sniper rifles Jaune's weapon is very basic and simple. Sure the shield folds into a sheathe and vice versa, but that's the extent of the weapon's complexity. The weapon is simple, barely decorated beyond the Arc crest on the shield, durable, and stubborn, much like Jaune himself. He's not one to try and stand out (if his choice of attire is anything to go by), but he's stubborn to a fault and unwaveringly loyal to the people he loves. When his back is against the wall Jaune will put himself at risk before doing the same to his friends (which could be argued as another reason why he chooses to stay with the Strigoi).
In volume 4 we see that Jaune is undergoing a rather significant change in personality, and his armor and weapons have changed to reflect this. His armor is heavier to encompass his role as a 'knight' as it were, and his shield and sword are more decorated than they were previously. However they are still the same simple sword and shield Jaune has been carrying since episode one, and both he and they retain what makes Jaune who he is.
In "Jaune Arc, Gryphon Knight" the change in weapons was purely practical. A halberd (or any weapon with significant reach) will be far more useful on the back of a large Gryphon than his normal sword and shield, however I think that the halberd still retains a certain air of 'Jauneness' if you will. The twin hammers he will be receiving are a different story altogether however. True a hammer is a simple weapon (so long as it doesn't turn into something else. Looking at you Nora) but its simplicity is also mixed with an innate brutality. A sword and halberd are weapons that could be used elegantly if one so wished or are traditionally considered 'knightly' weapons, but a hammer? A hammer is not an elegant weapon, nor is it traditionally considered a 'knightly' weapon. A hammer is a brutal weapon designed to smash, shatter, and crack. Go look up a video of a hammer vs a cinder block or something of that nature, and watch what that hammer can do to its target in the hands of an average Joe, then ask yourself, "what could a proper war hammer do to a human rib cage when wielded by someone who was trained to kill with it? What could two do?"
So yes while a war hammers are arguably more simple than a sword or halberd, they are also far more brutal in how they are used in combat. This brutality is a reflection of what Jaune may very well become should he turn into a Strigoi. He would be as a brutal creature born to kill and destroy with no respect for human life.
Quick edit: reviewer undeadhero143 suggested an set of both an axe and hammer, and though I wasn't going to go with it at first I decided that it would probably work better. I thought about giving him a singe two handed axe, but I decided against that as I'm going to be giving Jaune that very weapon in a later fic (If I ever get around to writing the damn thing.)
Sorry for the long author's notes here at the end of the chapter, but if you liked this story then feel free to follow and favorite if you haven't already! If you have a friend who likes RWBY or RWBY fanfiction (or awesome Vampires. Not the stupid twilight ones) then feel free to tell them about this story! If you have any questions, comments, suggestions, or just want to tell me what you think so far then feel free to leave a review or PM me! I love you all. BBBYYYYEEEEEEEEE!