5-4: Siege

This was a problem.

"What are they doing here...?" The voice of his lieutenant, Sienna, was the first to echo group's thoughts. Bullheads rarely flew this far out into the wilds, and even then, it was usually one or two at most. Instead, what they saw here was a veritable squadron of fully armed airships, each bearing down on their location with fiery columns of dust and metal.

Most importantly, each of the airships were emblazoned with a familiar symbol, the telltale insignia of a certain mining company.

As Captain of the White Fang Garrison, Owen was fully aware of every major landmark in the region. He knew of the Rhinestone quarry that was to the north of their camp, just was he was aware of the grimm-infested thicket to the west, and the winding burrows to the south of the fortress. However, that also meant that he knew how far these locations were from their base... And considering the distance, the White Fang Captain had absolutely no idea why Rhinestone Industries had decided to appear now, in such force.

But that didn't matter.

What mattered was that the group currently invading their area was one that represented everything White Fang sought to oppose; Faunus abuse, discrimination, and exploitation was just as prolific in Rhinestone Industries as it was in the other Dust companies. Not only that, but the firm was also rumoured to have their fair share of corrupt political dealings, and the presence of these definitely illegal gunships only furthered that claim.

Gunships. The tiger-faunus growled, his eyes narrowing as he watched the distant aircraft slowly descend. There was no mistaking it: this was definitely an invasion force. And judging by the size of it, this particular invasion force was one that had been in the works for quite some time. Did they plan to attack their camp all along?

That little fact was... sobering to the Captain. As bad as the grimm assault was, at least his people were able to escape from those monsters. After all, grimm were easy to distract, and they had lost far less than they could've. But against living breathing people? Well, it was much easier to escape from an Ursa than it was from a squadron of bullheads.

Another flurry of explosions resounded from the gunships, followed by the relentless tear of countless autoguns as metal rained onto the courtyard below. The tide of grimm roared out in response, their bestial fury muted by the sound of gunfire and missiles. Yet, despite the overwhelming firepower used by the private security forces, the White Fang Captain could see more and more grimm streaming in, attracted by the cacophonous noise.

At least Rhinestone was being useful by clearing out the grimm. At this rate, the ruins would be fully cleared before the day was through.

Just as suddenly as that thought appeared however, it ended. A terrible screech snapped the Captain out from his thoughts, emanating from a massive Ursa that stood head and shoulders above the pack. Owen's eyes widened.

The beast was completely covered in boney plates. Unlike usual bone armour, though, these ivory sheets were more than just studded; they almost looked angled. Deliberately evolved by the grimm to shrug off bullets. Not only that, but the strange Ursa also had massive spikes jutting out from its back, arrayed outwards in an unnaturally uniform fashion.

That grimm was... old. Almost ancient. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that that monster was bred for the express purpose of striking at the Kingdoms. So why was it out here, so close to the ruins of their base?

He didn't have time to think about it. Instead, the Captain's attention was quickly captured by the grimm. The beast itself was almost the size of their supply trucks, and far angrier as it slammed its paws back onto the ground. The bone spikes that covered its back seemed to quake in response, resonating with the earth-shattering slam as the strange Ursa loosed out another roar.

That cry was the monster's only warning, as the massive spears of bone shot upwards into the sky, tearing through the air as it bridge the gap between the Ursa and one of the bullheads, with blinding speed. Not only was the attack sudden, it was shot with such intensity that the Captain's own trained eyes could barely track it... But the most alarming thing about the bone salvo? The Captain could see that the Ancient Ursa had deliberately aimed its attacks.

The cruel spear shot straight towards the Bullhead's engine, striking the glowing section with foreboding accuracy, tearing through the metal structure as though it were paper. A single explosion signaled the end of the craft, as it spiraled out of control towards the courtyard. As if on cue, the tide of grimm converged, each of the monsters seeking to swarm the fallen vehicle and its inhabitants.

He... almost felt bad for them. Though they were working under Bigots, the Captain wasn't short-sighted enough to know that the security personnel weren't as guilty as their superiors. Still, they had arrived with the intent to subjugate the White Fang, so Owen withheld his sympathy. Instead, he turned his attention back towards his subordinates, his sight settling on the Sentry in particular.

"Lyra. Where's the nearest emergency cache?" Of course, he knew about the various shelters that the fort's sentries had set up among the compound. And while he wasn't quite sure of their need at the time, he allowed them to continue anyways. Now that things were this dire? He was glad they had the initiative. "We need to rearm as soon as possible, then coordinate a tactical retreat. Maybe meet up with the nearest outpost and-"

Another deafening crack filled the air, yet another explosion making itself known to the world as the courtyard exploded in a fiery blast. The Captain settled his gaze to the source of the blast, only to find that it had originated from the crashed Bullhead. But, rather than a pyre, the cause of the explosion was something far worse. Without warning, the crumpled Cargo hold exploded out in a tear of metal and heat. The mechanized inhabitants walked out.

And standing amongst the column of Atlesian Knights was sight that the White Fang Captain did not expect to see.

An experimental SDC Spider Droid, fielding a single anti-material Cannon, and a massive blade that arced with lightning.

Nox paused.

The sight of that machine was... intriguing. Were it not for his circumstances, he might've even appreciated its sudden arrival. To be fair, even the lesser constructs were sophisticated artifacts, somehow utilizing the powder fuel with neither Wakfu nor shadowsmoke nor the mysterious energies of this world. But the large walker? The creation that seemed to rival Razortime in size and durability? It was truly a masterpiece.

... Perhaps that wasn't quite accurate. After all, even with his Noxine's limited vision, Nox could see many inefficiencies in its construction. The primal energies of the elemental powder surrounded the construct, but also radiated outwards in nonsensical places. There were redundant systems in place, the result of imperfections rather than deliberate design, and Nox could see more than one unstable instantiation elemental power that littered the machine's hull.

But, considering what he knew of the local populace so far, the construction was truly leagues above the primitive firearms and vehicles that had once populated these ruins.

The Xelor blinked, and the moment was over. Despite the creation, Nox would not allow himself any more time to delay. These constructs were undoubtedly created by the local populace, and they had shown time and time and time again that they were savages that sought only conflict. He was a man of progress, and these savages all sought to confront him with neither context nor reason.

So, confront them he shall. The shutters on Nox's mask lowered, the glowing lights of his lens narrowing as he shifted his sight to another Noxine. More of those constructs were being dropped in by the airships, tearing apart the shadow beasts in a torrent of metal, laying waste to both the creatures and the land they walk on. And while these ruins were of no concern to the Xelor, the invasion force had made it evident that they intended to raze his abode as well.

He settled his attention on one of the shadow beasts instead. Unlike the people of this planet, these beasts were far more... diplomatic. It was almost ironic, really, as these creatures seemed to be more physically monstrous than the people who dwelt here. Yet, besides a few instances involving some particularly feral animals, it was the shadow creatures that ignored his presence. And it was the people who tried to assault him, again and again.

Nox held no hesitation as he made his move.

His Dial rang out, the resonant chime of an eternal clock washing over his entire domain. Nox's body flared with heat and ash, but he ignored the inconsequential sensation, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Through the eyes of his Noxine, the Xelor could see battle rage through the courtyard. The lesser machines, man-sized and equally frail, unleashed salvos of burning metal at the shadow wolves and lizards. The creations stood in formation, working in flawless unison as they fired upon identical targets. Bone masks shattered, ivory tusks broke away, and smoke filled the air.

The shadow creatures that survived the initial volley was met with the machines' colleagues, the second line of the formation unleashing another flurry at the beasts. Then the third line. Then, once again, the first. And yet, In spite of these mechanical assaults, the beasts were not without victory. These practiced methods of war were matched by the killing intent that fueled the larger wolves, creatures of implacable bone and unyielding fang that took the fight to the machines.

Some were powerful enough to simply barrel into the firing lines, roaring with neither fear nor hesitation as their skin splintered. Yet, such damage was superficial as the wolves broke apart the cluster of machines with a single explosive charge, paving the way for its allies. Others danced with bestial grace, weaving unpredictably between lines of fire, a single-minded purpose as their jumps and dashes eluded the machines' metallic storm. These creatures finished off their performance with deadly swings, their claws tearing apart their inhumane assailants like useless props.

It was truly an insightful display, but one that Nox spared nothing for. He was examining the fray for a reason, and that reason extended beyond aesthetics.

There.

A large wolf, plated with bone and powered by wrath. He shall serve as the first of Nox's vanguard.

Flames appeared around the beast, the air charged with unnatural energies. In spite of this, neither the machines nor the wolves took notice of the raw elemental power. This power was guided by Nox himself, directed by the Wakfu stored within the Xelor's body, as he slowly began weaving power into the shadow wolf. First, there was resistance, as Nox felt the very essence of the beast push back against him, lashing out like a wild beast.

No... Not a beast. Beasts held instinct and fear, balancing the two in a fine dance of will. This shadow creature only had one overriding purpose.

A purpose so simplistic, Nox found it immediately.

A metallic chuckle escaped the Xelor's mask as he contemplated the task before him. This shadow creature was truly a simplistic, pitiful existence. Unlike the warriors he had subjugated in the World of Twelve, he could see every aspect of this beast laid bare... And Nox knew that his chore would be but a trifle.

The shadow wolf scarcely held a will. Of that, Nox was certain, as he could see nothing that rivaled his conflict with Tartufo the Sacrier. Indeed, when he had struggled against that opponent, the Sacrier's soul had revolted, carried by wings and raiment born as a manifestation of his will and testament. And in that trial, in his opponent's final moments, Nox had seen the martyr carried and emboldened by a his desire, not for victory, but to protect his colleagues.

It was an aspect that the wolf did not—could not match.

And just as it had no will, Nox could barely find a drive for the shadow wolf. This beast's core was empty, unfilled and unlit, with only the gnawing sense of mindless destruction to guide it. It was... so pathetically weaker from others he had seen. Cold, to be sure, but not nearly as cold as the bitter rage that Nox had squashed in the flames that carried Frisco the Cra's.

He paused as that particular recollection flitted in his mind. For Nox, that task had been a trial, and one that he was... loathe to revisit. After all, the Xelor had seen things—familiar things—deep within that Cra. Things that he had discarded, torn away to break down the fuel that stoked the Cra's rage.

Nox snapped himself from those thoughts. What mattered was that the wolf, unlike Frisco the Cra, had nothing to define it.

Honestly, the Xelor could go on: Unlike the tenants that guided Marama the Feca, this base creature held nothing dear. There was no belief, no absolute moral truth that guided the shadow wolf. And unlike the Deserboss the Sadida, the wolf was alone, aided by neither the will of nature, nor the will of its very own kin.

So, in the face of all his past experiences, Nox had a single thought. If he could tame the strongest warriors of the World of Twelve despite their resolve, what did it mean for this simplistic creature?

A trifle.

Soon, the shadow beast was not a creature of pitch darkness, but of an azure blaze. Wakfu bound the monster, its ivory plates shifting and shimmering into a crystalline hue, crimson splinters filled with lines and swirls of pure Wakfu. The beast rose onto its hind legs, the glowing blue eyes of its mask staring directly at one of the larger machines. There was a twitch, instinct and instruction guiding the creature, as Nox gave a single order.

The wolf howled. And its brethren resounded in kind.

And Nox chose to ignore the ensuing conflict.

After all, this little skirmish was not the only incident he had to deal with. There were other beasts locked in battle, fighting against the creations of these annoying interlopers. So, if Nox wanted to end this conflict in his favour, he would have to 'assist' a few more of these shadow beasts.

Nox tested his will against the lesser beasts, his Dial resounding again and again each time he subjugated the creatures. The elemental powder was spent, woven into the shadowy smoke that fueled the blackened beasts. No... Not blackened. Rather than pitch darkness, the beasts now bore the vibrant hues of the elemental power that Nox had infused with them. And the crimson lines that etched itself on their plates? They were now azure blue, matching the colour of the Energies of Creation.

The Xelor frowned at that. It was a Wakfu expenditure, and while he would be able to reclaim the Wakfu at a later time, he should still reconsider the-

Oh. What's this?

Whatever thoughts Nox had entertained were soon pushed aside, a small smile forming beneath the Xelor's mask, as the sight of a certain monstrous shadow bear caught his eyes. His attention fully shifted to the Noxine watching over this terrible monster.

And thus, it fully shifted away from the Noxine that stood vigil over his Dial.

"Damnit, what's going on out there?!"

Under normal circumstances, Winter might've complained about her companion's brash behaviour. However, she herself felt the same bubble of anxiety, unease welling up within her as she stared at her Scroll. For the third time, she tried contacting the Security Veteran of Rhinestone. And for the third time, there was no reply.

"Hurry up, Ice Queen! You and I both know that those bells mean trouble!"

With that said, while Qrow's impatience was understandable to the huntress, his words did little to settle Winter's own grievances. Each time he lashed out uselessly at the air only served to further her own irritation. Not only that, but his constant complaints were a detriment to their current situation, leaving them unable to traverse the winding halls, as each of his shouts inevitably drew more grimm and machines.

"C'mon, how is he still not picking up?"

Yet, Winter could not blame him. Instead, she poured her frustration into her blade, the metal carrying her will as she slashed apart a metallic crocodile. Her Semblance flared as she followed through, a glyph appearing beneath her feet, propelling her forward to the next target.

It was all for naught.

Instead, it seemed that even the adrenaline of battle could not quench the tripidation that had washed over the huntsman and huntress. After all, the biggest reason for their unease was the fact that the Veteran might not even be alive anymore. The three had been in the middle of coordinating their planes, discussing the layout of the compound and the metallic building within, when their conversation had been cut short by a deafening explosion. Whatever words they had expected to come from the Veteran had been replaced by a flash of light and a burst of static.

So now, they had to take the initiative. As much as they would've liked to assist the security forces outside, the two hunters knew that their place was not in the battlefield. It was... frustrating. Yet, each time that damnable bell echoed out, they were reminded of this fact. Winter had no choice but to mentally classify it as a siege weapon. Or unconventional fire support. Or whatever the hell you'd classify a machine that remotely infuses grimm with dust as.

"A fork? Now?!"

Qrow's harsh voice was enough to snap Winter out of her usual rhythm, no longer instinctually dancing around her opponents as she withdrew for a split second. She allowed herself a moment to glance at the huntsman, only to bite back a similar irritation as she saw the source of his outburst.

Beyond the group of grimm lay two hallways, stretching forth in opposite directions. The Atlesian operative through a glance at her colleague, only to find his red eyes staring back at her. There was no time for words, nor was there any need, as Winter simply gave the man a single nod.

Another bell echoed. The huntsmen knew what they had to do.

Winter etched a glyph beneath the scythe-wielder's feet, her aura gathering for a split second, only to unleash itself in an explosive burst. The momentum carried Qrow forward, his weapon outstretched as he tore a swath of destruction through the grimm before them. Without even throwing a glance behind him, the black-haired warrior dashed onward, slipping into the left hallway, as he destroyed everything that got in his way.

It seems that she had the right of way.

Winter mentally slapped herself, before turning to metaphorically slap her opponents, her Semblance coming to life as she conjured a plume of flame. Directed by her aura, the dust-fueled blast found its target, physically slapping an Ursa with explosive results, giving the huntress enough time to slip passed the creatures of destruction.

Once more, she was carried by her glyphs, dashing through the hallways with blinding speed, the metallic walls blurring at the edge of her vision. They were inconsequential, however, and the huntress ignored them entirely as she broke through another line of grimm. Howls echoed behind her, lashing out in anger and fury, but those cries were as useless to her as the ceaseless walls.

The only thing Winter paid attention to was the path in front of her, and the Scroll beside her.

She had little time for anything else, and the huntress became keenly aware of this fact as the bell tolled once more. However, this time, the ominous sound of the mysterious bell brought her no anxiety. Instead, she grew emboldened by her actions, spurring herself further forward as she vaulted over a cluster of Ursa. The bell was much louder this time, and as another chime echoed through the halls, it drowned out the terrible cries of the limitless grimm.

That's... not quite right. If anything, the further she continued onward, the more it became clear that the grimm had a very finite limit. Though she danced between her opponents with the aide of her glyph, Winter was focused enough to see that, as she ventured deeper and deeper through the corridors, less and less of her opponents were grimm.

The halls were littered with mechanical facsimiles, each attempting to emulate grimm with deadly results. But even those artificial creatures couldn't catch her, as neither crocodile nor bear were enough to reach her. However, as she noticed the growing tide of machines, Winter Schnee came to one resolute conclusion: She was getting closer to the source of those chimes.

And as she came to this thought, the ominous bell tolling one more time, the sound resonating through her as she rounded the corner. Finally, she had arrived, and the dull hum in the air, coupled with the lingering chime of the bell, had told her tha-

Winter's eyes widened, suddenly growing alarmed. It wasn't sound that had just echoed through the halls.

It was... Aura?

No. Something else.

And whatever that something else was, it completely consumed the strange device that stood at the center of this room.