A/N: Okay, first off, I have to apologize for how long this took me to post. Sorry. But honestly, this is the first time this story would converge with the actual one. It is a spinoff, but it still has to follow the original in a somewhat linear fashion. And then I am also paralleling to Walkman's, so I had to figure out which way I wanted to play it without writing anything that happened in RWBY (honestly, I don't want to write it, and I doubt anyone would want to read it when they can watch it.) So, as my first fanfic, I found it to be my starting challenge. Also, one of my favorite things about writing these, are the chapter titles, so far they have been a reference to something. For example, this one is referring to the movie, and will most likely have a part II and part III (just something to look forward to.) And to finish this off, I own nothing, not even the title.

Chapter Four: The Hangover

Green and white, the crisp smell of pine, snow, and charred wood, the crackle of a campfire. Ragnar turned his head as he heard the crunch of his siblings boots through the snow. His sister returning with more firewood, the fair haired girl pulling a sled behind her. His brother dragging their food to be, his face expressionless under a mop of red locks. Ragnar took a better look at the sled when his sister passed... it looked a lot like the boat he was on not long ago, even the wooden beams on the deck were strapped down. "Great, this again." he thought nervously, turning back to his brother to shout a warning. But nothing came.

It never did.

He tried to move, but was helpless to watch. The dragged beast twisted and rose to it's paws before it clamped it's jaws around his brother's wrist, tearing off his hand. Bright red blood splattered, staining the snow and matting the beast's dark brown fur, it continued spurting from the stump that his brother was now clutching in shocked disbelief. Ragnar stood, a sword materializing in his hands as he faced the enormous wolf. He wanted to strike in rage, but his actions were not his own. The wolf's gray-blue eyes kept him pinned as it circled, or maybe it was just the dream. When it leapt, time slowed, it's teeth closing in for the kill. Ragnar was ready though, and thrust the sword up into it's upper jaw. At the moment of connection, time seemed to make up for the lapse by moving faster, a flood bursting from the wolf's mouth.

Ragnar flailed, fighting the torrent for air, but the conflict was over in a matter of seconds. He noticed a couple things all at once; the most prominent was the light searing his eyes, then there was the aching throb in his head that the light certainly wasn't helping, his mouth was dry, his opponent for the morning was a newspaper, and someone very nearby was laughing his ass off. He had seen worse days, but when you wake up fighting for dear life against an inanimate object, you kind of have to reassess them. As his eyes adjusted he decided to question the man.
"What time is it?" he groaned wearily.
The man paused to check his watch. "About five minutes before nine."
"Why were you laughing so hard?"
"A half dead lookin' man layin' out in the sun, an' I had just put the paper over your face to keep the sun out of your eyes, then you just freaked out!" the man bit out between laughs, "Completely made my day."
"Glad somebody is having a good one...hey, you wouldn't be able to tell me where I am would you?"
"You don't know?"
"I had a lot to drink." Ragnar said as he started taking in the grounds, his eyes finally easing up.
"Ah, well, you are in front of the Beacon Academy, you couldn't have picked a more public place to take a nap up here."
"Really? Isn't it on a cliff? How the hell did I get up here?"
"Sorry, couldn't tell ya, but I assume if you didn't fly, you must have climbed."

Ragnar turned and hopped off the bench, immediately regretting it, the dull throb returning in force. He brought his hand up to his head and nursed it for a moment."Thanks." he said before slowly bending to pick up his bag. "But I need to get gone." "Fare thee well." the man said before walking off. Ragnar swore he could hear more laughter in his words.

"Man, I need a little hair of the wolf that bit me." At that, Ragnar's thoughts went to his dream. "For more than one reason, let's call it multi-tasking." The area seemed pretty clean, normally that is a good thing, but now he wanted something in the shape of a bottle, with a magical elixir that dulls pain, and apparently makes you forget things, "Right when I need it, my alcohol goes AWOL on me, fan-fucking-tastic." he cursed. Every step he took, the throbbing pain in his head decided to punctuate it's existance, and the rattle and clink of his bag didn't help either."I swear, I'm never going to drink that much ever ..." Ragnar stopped and put his bag at his feet, quickly (to even more regret) kneeling over it. "My bag doesn't ever make noise like that!" he thought as he opened it, and a sigh passed his lips. "Thank the stars." came his voice in an almost euphoric tone. The bottle he withdrew still had about a quarter of the contents left. Pulling out the rag he had used as a stopper, he took a swig, coughed, and replaced said rag. "Looks like I will have to deal with the clinking a little while longer though. Back in the bag with you."

"Did I really climb up a cliff while drunk?" he wondered as he headed toward what he hoped was the main entrance. "Maybe I found an elevator...some stairs? Or maybe I teleported?" Ragnar barely kept himself from snorting laughter at the thought. Either way, it actually scared him, he could have fallen and died. "Next time, I'm flying for sure." Ragnar nodded to himself as he made his way slowly to the Academy proper. He certainly didn't want to hurt himself more, and the sudden flow of people passing him made him believe he was going the right way, so why rush?

It wasn't long before Ragnar stumbled his way into an intersection of pathways. It only felt like forever. The rush of people had become a slow trickle, and some of the more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed people were conversing and taking in the sights.
"This is taking forever!" he mentally whined.
"That is what you get for drinkin' too much."
"And now you are talking to yourself, great!" sounded a sarcastic cheer.
A pair of girls chatted nearby, and Ragnar passed them by at his slow stagger, and a few moments later he heard a few things that made him pick up his pace; loud complaining, an explosion, and then yelling. A few minutes had passed before he range walked past a second altercation. The only saving grace was that the yelling was cut short when, "...Wait, is that a coffin? Right, yeah." When a coffin practically flattened one of them. Ragnar didn't slow until he stepped through the main hall's threshold, hopefully it was a safe haven from... Well, whatever the hell was happening back out there.

On the inside, the beating sunlight was replaced by glorious shade, and the young warrior breathed a sigh of relief as he resisted the urge to close, lock, and barricade the door behind him. "I've only been here a short while, and in some sense witnessed two spats. Plenty of people have huge chips on their shoulders, and egos the size of mountains, lets not forget teen angst! This is going to be a long year."

The large hall ...auditorium? It was some kind of gathering place whatever it was... had a good amount of people already in attendance, somwhere between full and too crowded to breathe. A light clamor accompanied the persons, as with every congregation. Ragnar's gawking was cut short by another youthful warrior shoving past him, spitting "Move it." over his shoulder as he went. "This day just gets better and better." Ragnar sarcastically pointed out as he moved away from the entrance, finding a nice empty space of wall to press his back against, dropping the bag at his feet once more and crossing his arms.

Not long into his role of immitating buttress and holding up the wall, the people filing in had stopped, but not without making it a little more cramped. People had started pressing in on personal bubbles. One of these bubbles was Ragnar's of course, but from the scowl he got from the woman going to stand next to him, it was like she believed it was his fault. He wasn't staring or anything, but she was lithe, slim, and her hair was a little ...auburn? ...maybe chesnut. She leaned against the wall next to him, and folded her own arms, she was about chest high on him, and she didn't have much of a bosom... guys notice these things. Ragnar lifted an arm to flash a clipped wave saying, "Hey." (Smooth right?) before crossing it again. At which the woman turned her head back to him, amber eyes boring into his skull. Ragnar thought he saw the corner of her lip turn up into a smirk, maybe he imagined it, but the room quited and all heads turned as Ozpin took the stage.

A/N Questions and concerns, message, review, do it. I could use the constructive criticism.