RWBY: Paths of Light and Dark

Chapter III: My name is …

A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews and character submissions. I think I might be nearing the point where I can't accept anymore. From instructors to hunters and villains I have been given a very diverse set of characters to use. From the bottom of my heart I thank you all.

Iselia Forest

As dawn broke over the tree horizon of trees the sounds of the forest waking up filled the air. Slate gray eyes opened to the sounds of birds tweeting and crickets chirping. "Well, that's one day down. Only two to go." A dark gravel-toned male voice spoke as the figure stood up. As he walked away the scene he left behind him was one of chaos as four bodies, mutilated beyond recognition bathed the trees and grass. Dried blood cracked and flaked off the man's body as he faded into the shadows.

Elsewhere

"Gaaaahyaa!" a young man's voice exclaimed loudly causing a nearby flock of birds to fly off. The small lithe body of the young man was drenched in sweat. He looked around and saw that the fire from last night had died down to smoldering embers and the man he had rescued was awake and staring at him.

"Are you ok, you were tossing and turning something fierce." The man said to him a small hint of concern in his eyes. The young man turned away pushing his silvery grey sweaty hair away from his face.

"It's nothing, just a bad dream is all." He answered with a hint of indifference before standing. Stretching his muscles, the man reached down and picked up his black suit jacket and silvery-gray button-down shirt which he had folded down to use as a pillow.

"We should make a perimeter around the camp. We have enough meat to last us the next two days and we are near the river for water." He spoke as he dressed.

"You know; it would help if we introduced ourselves properly. My name is Jett, Jett Volus, what's yours?" the young man named Jett inquired as he extended his hand. The other person looked at the hand and scoffed before picking up his lyre.

"Do not mistake this for friendship or camaraderie. We are simply doing what is in our best interests to survive. Knowing each other's name doesn't help that process. If you must call me then just say 'you' or 'lyre guy'." He stated with a sense of aloofness about him.

Jett lowered his hand slightly dejected. "Whatever floats your boat, music man." He said with a slight shrug. "I'll have to change the bandages on my leg first but after that let's head out and secure the camp." He stated as he began unraveling the bandages that held the wound on his leg closed.

Pulling out the first aid kit Jett set to work changing the bandages but first applying antiseptic spray on and around the wound. Next he put on the coagulation cream to aid in the wounds closing. He finished up with a bandage patch before wrapping his leg in fresh bandages.

The musician warrior had been silent the entire time as he checked the arrows in the quiver on his back. "You shouldn't exert yourself too much. Your leg may be healing well but don't forget the damage to your ribs." He mentioned offhandedly as he strapped the quiver to his back.

Jett merely chuckled and stood up stretching his arms above his body. He applied weight to his damaged leg to ensure it would be able to support him.

"Careful, you sound like you might be caring about my well-being." He joked. Satisfied that he would be able to move without much difficulty Jett strapped his chakrams to his waist and set off towards the trees on the west side of the camp.

"We'll meet back up here in two hours after gathering materials for traps and alarms." Jett's nameless companion informed him. "The perimeter should be about fifty-feet so it encompasses the river and the edible vegetation. Try not to injury yourself further, you're no use to me incapacitated or dead." He stated simply.

Jett shrugged and began walking off in the opposite direction. "Music man, you are way too high strung. You need to relax and smell the roses once in a while." The young man said before whistling a jovial tune leaving his companion alone at the camp.

The lyre wielding warrior shook his head. Jumping onto a nearby tree and grabbing the low hanging branch nearby, he pulled himself upward and started to climb the trunk. Reaching the uppermost branches, the young hunter pulled an arrow from his quiver before pressing a hidden button near the yoke of the lyre.

A soft click was heard before the lyre popped out and open. The strings which had run up and down instead of right to left twanged to the back while the yoke separated and stretched upwards and downwards to accommodate the extension of the sound-box's transformation into a grip and the arms into bow limbs.

The entire process took less than two seconds to complete and once it was finished a small short-bow was held in the young man's hand where his lyre use to be. From the arrow the man pulled out a small vial of grey colored dust and sprinkled it on the weapon and the projectile before notching the arrow.

He chose a tree that was a few meters out before releasing his arrow. A musical twang resonated through the air as the arrow flew through the sky. As it traveled the grey dust that it had been sprinkled with began to fall. Semi-transparent platforms formed in the air and stayed suspended making a path from one tree all the way to the one that the arrow hit.

Jumping on the first platform the bowman ran along the path to the next tree pulling out a green arrow as he ran. Once he made it to the opposite side he jammed the arrowhead deep into the tree trunk burying the shaft. From the notch point of the arrow dozens of strings burst out as a web stretching to nearby trees and down to the ground. "Two or three more of these should be sufficient."

He mused before pulling out a duplicate arrow as the first one. He applied the grey dust to it and began the process once more. Going from tree to tree and ensuring that he covered the crucial areas, the bowman let himself smiled softly.

My trap making skills are sub-par at best but with this web of alarms, we'll be able to tell when Grimm are in the vicinity. He thought to himself as he dropped to the ground. The entire process had taken a little less than forty-five minutes to complete which gave him ample time to scrounge up some edible vegetation.

He started near the river and from there began gathering acorns, mushrooms, apples, and junga fruit. Everything was held in his coat that he used as a makeshift knapsack. Sitting down beneath a well-shaded tree the bowman pulled out one of the apples and bit into loudly. The tart-sweetness of the fruit's juices flowed over his tongue as the tender flesh entered into his mouth.

The relatively peaceful and serene quiet of the forest allowed the young man to relax. He knew he had a few more minutes before he would have to head back to camp and decided that a quick nap wouldn't hurt. Ensuring that his Grimm detection web was still in place the young man closed his eyes and drifted off in slumber.

"Eurydice!" a small child cried out.

"There are too many of them, we need to run away!" the child exclaimed as he pulled on a woman's shirt.

The woman looked down at the boy with a half-frightened smile.

"Run away, I'll buy you time little brother." She said softly, but the young child shook his head spraying tears everywhere.

"Eurydice, you have to run as well or they'll get you!" he screamed at his sister.

"Do not worry, I'll thin them out a bit and follow right behind you. I promise you I'll always be with you." Eurydice said kneeling to her brother's level before kissing his forehead softly.

"Now run, run and never look back." She whispered softly pushing him away slightly and readying her weapon.

The boy was scared but he trusted his sister. She had never once lied to him or broken a promise. She was the strongest huntress ever and without him there to distract her he knew she would win.

"Keep running brother, and don't look back!" he heard his sister's voice exclaim over the sounds of fighting.

Closing his eyes, the boy ran on at full speed. Suddenly everything went deathly quiet. The sound of fighting and of the boy's running stopped. He heard nothing but the piercing shriek of his sister's voice. Opening his eyes, the boy broke the one rule his sister had given him and he looked back.

The scene he saw in front of him was nothing short of monstrous. An alpha beowolf had its jaws around his sister's throat, crushing the life out of her. As she struggled in vain to remove the beast smaller beowolves grabbed her limbs and brutally ripped them from her body. A gurgled scream escaped from her throat as she turned her head to see her brother starting at her.

Tears running down her face the girl smiled, softly and weakly as if it took all her strength to do so.

"Run my brother…run and live…for the…both of…us…" she gasped out before the alpha ripped her head clean off her body.

"EURYDICE!" came the pained yell clear through the forest.

A large man with dark grey skin turned towards the sound and smiled to himself.

"Fresh meat at last. Come Fenrir, it is time to feed." He spoke in a gravel-tone as if someone was scratching sandpaper together in his throat.

He carried a giant broad cleaver over his shoulders, easily longer than his body by a full length with ease. The weapon was of simple design with two cut outs along its blade, a circle close to the top and a semi-circular one nearer the handle. The handle of the weapon was easily three hand lengths with its grip a different color than the rest of the handle being dull grey compared to the shimmering silver.

As he trudged through the forest he could hear the sound of someone crying causing a demented smile to grace his face. "Don't waste those tears, I haven't hurt you yet!" he exclaimed breaking into a full sprint as he homed in on the sound. Breaking through the trees with unbelievable strength the man saw the source of the crying. It was a young man no older than six-or-seventeen.

He had neck-length hair that had a slight downward spike and was silvery-gray in color. His eyes were slightly more shocking and out of the ordinary. Although they were shedding tears the blue-amber irises were sharp and alert. This was person before him was a warrior unlike the prey from last night. And although his clothes a silvery-gray button-down shirt with black dress pants and gray dress shoes didn't broadcast it, he knew that this man would not go down easily.

Swinging his sword, the deranged man was actually able to land three slashes on his target unfortunately, the last hit knocked the young man away from him. And into a nearby tree. Stepping forward the swordsman felt something squish beneath his combat boots. Looking down he saw a black jacket that had been stuffed with food and sneered before stomping multiple time on the garment and turning its contents to mush.

"No need to have that shit around since you're going to die here and now." The swordsman cackled. His target had just gotten to his feet and shakenly readied his weapon, a bow. "You're too slow!" the swordsmen exclaimed dashing forwards and slicing at the young man.

The bowman's eyes widened, from fear or surprise was anyone's guess as the crescent cut of the blade slammed into his neck and lifted him off the ground before pinning him to a tree. "Your aura levels are extremely high. You took four of my attacks and I still haven't broken through your defenses. I can tell we'll have much fun together." The swordsman said in a mocking tone.

The bowman struggled to remove the blade as he felt his aura drain to keep his neck and head safe from decapitation.

"Why are you doing this?!" he asked, mostly gasping the question out as he could begin to feel the pressure of the blade push against his windpipe.

His attacked cocked his head to the side confused.

"Why? You want to know why?!" he cried out and roughly pulled the sword away before burying it headfirst into the ground. "Fenrir, he wants to know why!" the man exclaimed before kneeling to the ground where the bowman was currently coughing and gasping for air.

"I'll tell you why," the man began before grabbing the bowman by the hair and lifting him up. At full height the swordsman easily stood close to seven feet tall towering over the bowman.

"Because I fucking feel like it!" he finished slamming his fist into the smaller man's abdomen.

Spittle and air burst forth as the wind was literally knocked out of the small young bowman. The bigger man however did not stop and proceeded to relentlessly and mercilessly beat the young warrior.

I'm going to die here. He is going to kill me. I don't want to die. Someone save me. Please save me.

"SOMEBODY SAVE ME PLEASE!" the bowman cried out desperately.

At this the swordsman stopped the beating and dropped the bloodied young man.

"No one is gonna save you kid. This isn't a fucking fairy tale. Grow the fuck up and die." He said raising his sword out of the ground.

The bowman looked up with fear in his eyes. "I…I…I don't want to die." He whispered as the blade came crashing down.

CLIGANG!

The sound of metal striking metal resonated through the forest. "Music man run now!" the young bowman heard Jett's voice yell. Opening his eyes which had closed in fear the young bowman saw Jett, the young man he had saved fighting the swordsman. Despite his injuries Jett was holding his own against the man. His weapon was in its double bladed spear form and wind was currently billowing around the area.

Breaking off from the engagement Jett placed himself between his companion and the large attacker. "Music man, you have to run. Your aura is gone. If you take even a single hit, you'll be killed." Jett told the man holding his weapon defensively. The bowman looked up at his savior and saw that the wound on his leg had reopened. "Jett, your leg wound. You'll never be able to beat him with it.

Jett chuckled and gave the bowman a cocky smile. "You don't think I fucking know that. I'm not an idiot. All you have to do is run away. Get far enough away and survive till the next trial." Jet stated.

"Jett, you'll die!" the bowman cried out feeling tears come to his eyes.

"Yea, dying will be a bummer, but you'll live. You can live for the both of us." Jett stated as his weapon transformed. It was now a four pronged shuriken that looked kind of like a windmill. "I should be able to hold him off for a while. Make sure you just run and don't look back." Jett said never taking his eyes off the opponent in front of him.

The swordsman for the most part was pacing back and forth as he tried to find a solution to the problem in front of him.

"Keep running brother, and don't look back!"

"Run my brother…run and live…for the…both of…us…"

"Sorry Eurydice, but I can't run anymore." The bowman stated as he rose to his feet. Jett heard his companion and grit his teeth. "Don't be a fool. This Eurydice person is important to you right? Live for their sake if not for your own." He spat out.

The bowman let out a rare chuckle and pulled out three arrows. "Eurydice is dead and I'll be damned if I let my friend die the same way she did." He stated as his eyes hardened.

The swordsman looked at the two opponents in front of him and smiled. "Yes! YES! FUCK YES!" he exclaimed swinging his sword above his head. "FENRIR!" he cried out and the air was filled with howling. Jett looked around for the source before realizing it was coming from the swinging blade.

As the weapon swung round and round it transformed splitting in two. Jagged blades sprung from the fuller on both sides of the blades inside running along its length while the straight edge became serrated. When its transformation ended the blade was a fearsome sight to behold with the top of it looking like a giant wolf's head.

"Now then let's get this party started, shall we." The swordsman taunted daring the duo to step forward.

Gathering wind around him Jett met the man's gaze and smirked. "So music man, you ready to you know, face the music.?" He asked the bowman behind him. "That was a terrible joke, and my name isn't music man." He stated flatly but with the hint of happiness in his tone. "Oh really then what is it?" Jett asked. The bowman notched the three arrows he had taken out and drew them back along the bow. "My name is…"

A/N: That's a wrap. Thank you for the characters. For anyone who still wants to submit a character and for those who have already made submissions, here's a word of caution. I don't write traditionally meaning the evil/bad characters don't always lose in my stories nor are they always just killed for the sake of plot. I have killed plenty of good guys for various reasons will likely kill a few in this one. The whole theme being that the characters must choose for themselves which path to take, given their personalities and biography.