Ch 11 - A Tale of Scythes.

A/N: So this is definitely gonna be the last chapter before cannon resumes, and after that bombshell, I had one more little bit of inspiration on original content before I go back to shadowing the show until I can reach a point where alterations to events can let me reasonably break the mold.

Lastly, since its past midnight for me, its technically Friday, so that means here's your 1st weekly upload, everyone. Enjoy getting this if your still awake (or normally awake because you live in a timezone more than 8 hours away), or waking up to have this in your alerts.

The entire story is on Doc Manager as of now. It was a pain in the butt, because I had to open the google doc, double line skip between every paragraph (and of course my OCD makes me reread the whole chapter as I go), then copy the whole thing, paste it to a Word Doc, triple check everything's good, and then upload it to Doc Manager. And then I end up rereading it in Doc Manager again. For every chapter.

Review Responses:

Alby199800: Well that was... Dark... i will see myself out.

But seriously, good use of the M category, and also i guess it was unexpected that Weiss would learn sorcery.

I will wait the next chapter with bated breath.

My Response: Yes. Yes it is dark. And yes, yes that pun was cringe, but I still laughed. And yes, I hate myself for laughing at it. But don't worry, in the true fashion of all things Dark Souls, Vyliria's past gets worse. I mean, she got into the blades, and things were looking up for her... but anyone who's played DS3 knows how Irithyll ended up... that's not gonna be a pleasant event to live through, let me tell you. And she did live through it, as she only got her darksign after the moonlit city fell to the Tyrant and the Devourer.

And huh... Was it really that unexpected? Even before I started writing, I felt that sorcery would mesh very well with the Schnee heiress. I guess I'll end up giving a few more surprises when it comes to who learns what spells after all.

Edit: Apparently, there was a mistype in that review, and I was informed via PM it was supposed to say expected. I'll leave the origional response for the sake of posterity though.

ScreamingStuka: Well gods damned. I must say that so far (and likely continuing on) this is one of the best RWBY/Dark Souls crossovers ive read. From the inclusion of DS lore, to putting Vyliria with JNPR (because lets face it, they often get shunted into the background and they dont deserve that) and Vyliria being A. a woman (most stories seem to have a male Champion Undead/Curse Bearer/Ashen One) and B. not be a total broodlord or a mute. I love that its like: Here is Ashen One, they can have a conversation, tell jokes but still be serious and empathetic, and is also willing to teach others about her world and magic, rather than hording it all for herself.

Overall I absolutely love the story, and do not regret staying up til midnight reading it knowing I had work in the morning. Cant wait to see where the story goes from here.

Also cant help but wonder about the Pyrrha/Cinder Showdown at the end of season 3 and how that will go down. I mean Cinder could be full maiden all she wants but that's still not going to stop a volley of Sunlight Spears.

Praise the SunT]/

My Response: Sir (or Madam, or whatever-the-Izalith-you-identify-as), you make me very happy with this review. So thanks. When I went into this, I already had a general plot for the whole thing in my head (though each individual chapter usually ended up being written by the seat of my pants).

I'm also a Dark Souls 3 fanatic (I've forced myself to take a hiatus on the game, because it has come to my attention that saying Gwyndamnit IRL is NOT normal), so I'm extremely versed on the lore of 3, to a lesser extent the lore of 1 (watched a lot of game play and lore videos, but never played it), but not really any lore at all for 2, because I haven't played it or watched lore for it. IDK why, I just never felt the urge to. Like, I joke about it being the black sheep of the Soulsborne series, but I personally have nothing against it because I never played it.

And yes, I noticed that a lot of DS (and even Bloodborne) xovers make their Dark Souls OC (or actual canon character) a man, so I wanted to break the mold. Though to be completely honest, Vyliria was a woman because the actual character that I have that bears her name is a woman. Gonna be completely honest again; I heard about the desert pyromancer set in the Ringed City DLC, and made a female character specifically for that, even if it didn't end up her final fashion souls. I started playing when I was 16, so I was very much still a hormonal teenager... who *still* has an unhealthy penchant for Dark Souls rule 34, but I'm digressing.

I mean, Vyliria is still pretty broody, and has a lot of mental and trust issues, but I can understand since many (not all) of the other stories on FFN have them be a COMPLETE grimdark edgelord of the dark grim edge who's a total dick to basically everyone and just walks around stabbing bad guys and generally derailing canon in the process (or is just Neo but Dark Souls). I mean, Vyliria's still gonna be derailing canon, and will likely be stabbing bad guys, but yeah, you're right, it is basically: Here's the Ashen One, they talk to people, make jokes, have emotions, and is willing to divulge a lot (but not everything). And she also isn't this invincible, god-slaying warrior of doom, she's very much killable, (and has died A LOT in the past), and has a lot of baggage and flaws of her own, just like any of the other characters in RWBY.

I mean, to basically sum up the last paragraph: She might be based of a game character, but I made her into a PERSON.

Well, I certainly CAN say that Cinder won't be the only person in that tower with magic, but as for anything else that happens at the end of volume 3... well, spoilers. I CAN say that there's gonna be a lot of lighting and fire, though.

Praise the Sun as well, my fellow Sunbro. \[T]/ May the Darkmoon guide thee on thy journey.

(additional message in response): also wanted to point out that on top of Vyliria's mental and trust issues, there's also that deformity she was born with, that utterly wrecked her childhood. Suffice to say that will be revealed going further in the story. And I can almost guarantee that NONE of you will guess what it actually is.

(no longer in review response) I'd also like to point out that I don't respond to every review here. Just ones that require more than a sentence or so of response, and when I respond with something that I feel that other readers wouldn't mind knowing. So if you don't get a response here, I'm not singling you out or anything.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Souls or RWBY. Dark Souls belongs to From Software and RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth. I only own my own OC.

(Vyliria)

Another ten days had passed, and after Vyliria had managed to push her emotional traumas back down, she'd resumed teaching her three students on a very strange schedule that revolved around their actual classes. Yang had breezed through most of the basic offensive pyromancies, and Vyliria was considering starting the Carthus pyromancies soon. Spells primarily focused on empowering oneself or one's weapons would likely suit the blonde brawler well. Then she remembered flash sweat, profuse sweat, and iron flesh, and resolved to teach those first, starting the next lesson. And Yang hadn't set anything on fire that wasn't supposed to be set alight for three days, which was always a plus. Pyrrha had figured out lighting spears, and was in the process of casting greater lightning spears. She'd learned the tale, and had managed the spell itself rather consistently, but it paid to be sure, and Vyliria was grilling the Mistralian champion to make sure she had it well and truly in her heart, planning lighting arrow to be the next hurdle she'd jump. Weiss seemed to be a prodigy for sorcery, breezing through the basic soul arrows, mastering both forms of farron dart, adding farron flashsword as a surprise melee option, and was currently working on perfecting her casts of farron hail. Vyliria planned to teach her the first two forms of magic weapon, soul greatsword, and spook, and was then eagerly anticipating seeing how the Schnee heiress would tackle the golden sorceries of Oolacile.

While her friends were still concerned, they couldn't deny that her mood had improved significantly since her breakdown, every moment spent teaching seeming to raise her spirits as it drowned the phantoms of the past in a wave of magical instruction. It was currently late afternoon, and Vyliria was sitting on the cliffs overlooking the Emerald forest, gazing in the general direction she felt the bonfire was in. She was enjoying the quiet and the shining sun overhead, when she heard footsteps approaching. She turned back slightly to ensure that it wasn't someone who planned to kill her (she was next to a cliff), and after verifying that it was Ruby, merely brought her gaze back to the forest. The red reaper sat next to her, and a few minutes of silence ensued as she seemed to awkwardly flounder for a conversational opener.

"Vyliria?" she finally asked in a hesitant manner.

"Yes, Ruby? You can speak your mind, it's fairly obvious that if you're this apprehensive the conversation you want has something to do with my past. I'm not going to shatter like glass," the unkindled replied.

"I'm not going to pretend to know what it was like for what happened to you. I had parents who cared for me. But… when I was younger, my mom, who was a huntress, went on a mission, and never came back. And it hurt when I realized that she wasn't coming home like she said she would. It still hurts sometimes. It hurt dad worse. He took a long time to recover, and a lot of my earlier memories were of Yang trying to pick up the pieces and raise both of us. I still wonder how she did it, because her mom left before I was born, so she lost two moms…" She trailed off for a while, the two women looking at the forest in silence. "I… I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but I'm here for you. We're all here for you. I'm not going to think any less of you for what happened to you. I know it can't compare to what happened to you, but I know how pain from family feels…" she trailed off again, but this time didn't resume.

After a few more minutes, Vyliria spoke up. "I live with the pain of what happened to me everyday, Ruby. It never goes away. It never will. But eventually, the pain deadens, blunted by the passage of time. Headmaster Ozpin told us that he had made more mistakes than anyone on this planet. Given that I don't know the details of those mistakes, I won't dispute that statement at this time. But all the same, I'll offer a statement of my own: I carry more buried pain than any living being that currently walks this world. I will bear it until the day that I am finally severed from this mortal coil. But I will not let it define what I am. I will prove to the world that I am stronger than the weight of my past. And while I will rise above it, I will not forget it is there. Something that great will always lurk in the shadows. Yet rather than letting the darkness fester and grow, I harnessed it, sharpened the knives in my soul. Both figuratively and literally."

"What do you mean, literally?" Ruby asked.

"I told the headmaster of them, but I don't think I've told any of you about hexes in detail, have I?"

"Nope," Ruby replied, popping the p as she seemed prone to.

"Hexes are the final school of magic. They are the collective term for a particular subset of spells found in the other three schools, specifically ones of a darker nature. Normal sorceries work by harnessing the power of ambient souls in the world to affect your will upon reality. Dark sorceries draw upon the deepest parts of the soul, the very dregs of our beings. Their blackened projectiles are drawn towards life, and bear a heavier weight than normal. Dark pyromancies burn with the impenetrable fires of humanity, fueled from our own dark souls. Dark miracles are born not from tales of the gods, but from stories of man, tales of great pain and anguish, of hate and suffering. My point for telling you this is that there was a positive from my pain and loss. With the will I demonstrated, I was uniquely suited to learning hexes due to the mental scars my childhood had left upon me. I learned a great many terrifyingly potent spells, and had the willpower not to lose myself to the siren-call of the Abyss." Ruby looked unsure on how to respond to that, so Vyliria took it upon herself to continue. "If it does not pry, could you describe the sensation of loss when you think of your mother?"

Ruby looked taken aback, saddened, yet contemplative. "It's… like this yawning hole in my heart," she eventually said, "always longing to be filled, but I know it will never fully heal. And sometimes, that makes it hurt more," she finished. "Why are you asking about my mom?"

"Did you know, Ruby, that there is a hex, a dark miracle, that forms itself in the world as a scythe with which you can strike your foes?" Vyliria responded with a question of her own.

"A scythe miracle? That sounds cool."

"Indeed. And I think that your own pain, from your own loss, may just make you suited to learning it. Especially since you already wield a scythe of your own, like I do."

"Wait, are you… offering to teach me magic?" Ruby questioned, suddenly very excited.

"I know it's not nearly as much as I'm offering your sister, partner, or Pyrrha, but yes, I'm offering to teach you a hex, in specific, the dark miracle lifehunt scythe."

"Yes! I'd love to learn magic! When can we start!?" she was practically bouncing in place.

"We start," Vyliria said, much calmer than the red reaper, but still somewhat infected by her good mood, "by telling you of the tale behind the miracle. Then I will demonstrate it, and then hand you a catalyst with which to cast it, after which I will begin teaching you how to do it yourself." She took a breath, going into a storytelling tone. "Long ago, when the city of the gods, Anor Londo, stood proud, long before it came to be called Irithyll, there was a dragon named Seath. He was different from his brethren, the everlasting dragons. He had arms, but no legs, only strange appendages resembling tentacles below his waist. He lacked the stone scales of his kin, and because of this lacked their immortality. He was not treated well at their hands, though ultimately, the extent of the abuse he suffered was known only by himself. As I have told my own team, Seath betrayed his kin, siding with the gods, and as a reward for the contribution he made to their victory, Gwyn gave Seath a fragment of his Lord Soul, and named him Duke of Anor Londo. Seath used his title to build a grand archive, housing an uncountable mass of knowledge from across the world. He founded sorcery, entirely on his own, his only rival in the creation of new spells in that era being the small kingdom of Oolacile. Yet for all he had and created, he still coveted the immortality he lacked. All his efforts in advancing magic, amassing his archives, were all to feed into his quest to render himself immune to the ravages of time. Until one day, when he came across Gwynevere, the eldest daughter of Gwyn, browsing his archives. What exactly she was looking for that day has been lost to time, but the two struck up a rapport, Seath surprised that anyone was able to engage him on an intellectual level equivalent to his own. Seath offered her aid in what she was searching for, and she in turn offered whatever help her miracles could to his own quest. And the two kept aiding each other on various projects. Academic camaraderie became friendship, and eventually friendship became… something else. According to the tales, Seath spent nearly a month fruitlessly tearing through his archives in search of what was wrong with him, only for Gwynevere to answer his question in mere seconds: He loved her. And, she admitted, she loved him as well. A goddess and a dragon, a union unheard of. They had a child. And when Seath held the infant crossbreed he named Priscilla in his arms, he found for the first time in his memory that he cared not for his quest for eternal life, for all that his heart could focus on was the bundle of fluffy, gently cooing joy before him."

Ruby seemed happy with the story, but knowing that it was the background for a hex, hesitantly said, "I feel like there's a but coming…"

"Indeed," Vyliria responded, her own mood souring. "Gwyn was unaware of his daughter's affections. And when the child was born, he was apoplectic. An entire regiment of silver knights flooded the archives, spiriting Gwynevere off, as her father married her to a god named Flann, and sent her away to the city of Heide, where Flann dwelled. The royal executioner Smough, rumored to be a cannibal, took the infant away, never to be seen by either of her parents again. And Seath could do nothing under threat of death. It broke his mind, drove his genius mad, as he threw himself back into his quest for immortality, no longer caring for morals, committing unspeakable acts in his pursuits. But this story no longer follows Seath. The executioner, Smough, was set to crush the infantile Priscilla with his near-comically oversized hammer, but was stopped by none other than one of the knights of Gwyn himself, ironically the Dragonslayer Ornstein, who argued that the infant was not responsible for being born. Yet… owing to her draconic and deific nature, Priscilla had a power both great and terrible, one that soon manifested itself as a scythe that would grow as she did. Her power came to be known as lifehunt, its occultic nature able to kill even the gods themselves with a terrifying ease. Gwyn would not let something so dangerous, that he already saw as an abomination, live within his kingdom. Yet Ornstein persisted in his arguments to spare the babe, driven by the memory of a long-gone, yet terribly dear friend. When all seemed lost, a ray of hope struck: The Lion Knight learned that there was a great painter amongst the gods: Ariamis, who was creating his magnum opus, a painting so suffused with magic that a world was contained within its canvas. And so a compromise was struck with Gwyn. Seath would never know that his child lived, but she was banished to the painting, growing up in the cold canvas of a painted winter landscape. Yet even for as terrible a life as she endured, whenever an enterprising champion had the misfortune to find their way into a painting that came to be a prison for all the gods hated yet could not destroy, she turned out to be a kind hearted soul, always offering them the chance to leave unharmed, if only they would show the same courtesy to her. But not everyone who found their way into the Painted World of Ariamis was pure of heart. There were those who were merely evil, who attempted to kill her solely because of their sadistic natures. There were those who coveted her power and sought it for their own. There were those who coveted her body, for she was still a woman, of deific proportions." Taking a quick aside in a more normal tone of voice, she added, "There were also an odd few, that while not hostile, were rather obsessed with her fluffy tail." Resuming her previous tone: "Yet all those who sought to harm her learned why the gods banished her in the first place, as her lifehunt scythe cut them down like so much chafe, leeching their very souls, healing the wounds dealt to her whilst dealing grievous strikes of her own."

"Okay, I know this is supposed to be serious," Ruby interjected, "but was her tail really that fluffy?"

"Actually, I was done with the story. But, she was almost entirely covered in a fine, snow-white fur, save for her face, feet, and hands. And her tail was apparently of such a silken and fluffy quality that stories of its nature managed to pass down to today. Considering this was literal millennia ago, the fact that claims of its fluffiness made it to today has to lend some kind of credence to said tales," she explained.

She took out a smaller book from her storage, this one bound together with twine so that one would need to make a conscious effort to undo the knots if they wished to read the contents. Carefully undoing the knots she had tied back when the first flame still burned, she reverently leafed through the pages, before settling on one.

"This is the proper tale of the dark miracle I will teach you," she began. "You will first take this tale into your heart, then learn the incantation and begin to cast it. When you get it right, it should look something like this," she said, as she stood up and moved a few feet away, drawing her chime.

Exiled and imprisoned alone in a hostile world of painted cold,

The Crossbreed Priscilla was visited by many warriors bold,

Yet to each one she offered their lives to be spared,

If only those same terms to her would be shared,

And though many sought to bring her mortal strife,

She cut them all down with her Lifehunt Scythe!

Rearing back Yorshka's chime, an ethereal, off-white scythe materialized. It's handle was gnarled, almost coiled in some places, and the bottom bore a sharp protrusion that curved in the same direction as the blade. The counterweight of the head was sharpened, and the head itself was smooth, with an unnaturally honed edge to the blade. She whipped it forward with a shrieking whistle, ethereal flakes of snow coming off the illusory blade. Maintaining its presence, Vyliria executed a series of swings, showing off how balanced the nonphysical weapon was.

"I also believe that due to the nature of lifehunt that this miracle may do vastly increased damage to aura, since the spell directly targets the lifeforce and soul of what it strikes, in addition to leeching vigor from the target and transferring to the caster." At Ruby's confused look, she added, "It steals their health and gives it to you. Obviously, I'm not keen to test that on a person any time soon, but it's something to consider."

"Okay, that's cool," Ruby said. Then she raised an eyebrow, and asked, "but don't I need a catamist?"

"Catalyst."

"Sorry."

"No problem, I can give you one," she responded, dispelling the hex, and holstering her chime, before calling forth a mass of cinders, which coalesced into a white, embroidered talisman, bound with brass at the top, and with white tassels lining the bottom. She held the talisman in both hands offering it to Ruby-

-and she kneeled in front of Siris' lifeless corpse, her blood pooled all around, staining the talisman and her hands, and that was before she fought back the urge to vomit, looking at the massive hole carved into her back, where a chunk of her spine had been torn out, even as her vision blurred with tears. Not Siris too, please gods not Siris too-

"-Vyliria! Please, are you okay? Do I need to get help?" Ruby was practically begging her for a response, the younger girl holding her by her shoulders and shaking her. Vyliria's vision was blurred, and with a start she realized it was tears, and that she had been hyperventilating until a few seconds ago. Gods, what's happening to me?

"I… I'm sorry, Ruby. I had a flashback."

"Do… do you wanna talk about it?"

"This talisman belonged to a dear friend of mine, a woman by the name of Siris, who was also in the Blades. There were only two people that I had ever considered as closer to me than her. I all but saw her as family. I just remembered when I found her corpse… the mutilation her own damned grandfather did to it. Sometimes I swear I can still see the bloodstains on this cloth. At least I avenged her and put the literal insane serial killer that sired one of her parents into the earth." She reached into her storage, and a flicker of embers escaped her clenched fist. When she opened it, in her palm was…

"Is that an ear?!" Ruby shouted.

"I never told any of you what the Blades of the Darkmoon did," Vyliria said.

"I thought they were what you called huntresses in Irithyll." Ruby looked quite disturbed.

"The Blades, like huntsmen and huntresses, protect the innocent. But how we do it is the difference. 'The demon lies in the details,' as the saying goes. The Blades protect the innocent by hunting the guilty. When we kill sinners, we sever their ears. It serves as both a warning to others who are considering following their path, and as proof that we have fulfilled our duties. Our amulets bear an enchantment that can judge the souls of those we slay. If the person was guilty of great sin, such as murder, rape, and the like, when we slay them, the amulet works a magic to dry their ears out, turning them into what have come to be called Proof of Concord Kept. The spell only affects the severed ears of the guilty, so you can't fake your duties, which meant that no one tried to slay innocents for fear of reprisal by the rest of the covenant." She pointed to the ear in her palm, which was double layered. "When the sinner has done a foul deed that is particularly egregious in its nature, the amulet morphs the Concord into a double layered one, to signify the magnitude of the evil stopped." She paused, gazing at the Concord Well Kept in her palm, before continuing, "This belonged to Hodrick, the man who murdered his own granddaughter, and countless others, severing a specific piece of their spine and pilling them by the hundreds at some demented altar."

"Hundreds?" Ruby sounded like she was going to be sick.

"Indeed. And I will keep this souvenir of reprisal until the day I pass from this world, as proof of my fulfillment of my promise to avenge Siris, and as something to remind me that I stopped that madman once and for all," she said, before placing it back in her storage.

"If the talisman means that much to you, Vyliria, you can find another one. I don't mind," Ruby said.

"No. I truly appreciate the sentiment, Ruby, but you should use the sunless talisman. It would honor Siris' memory if it was used for good again, and it would just be sitting in my storage, and weighing on my mind otherwise. Besides, the manner in which it was forged makes it partial to casting hexes." A pause, before she added wryly, "Or at least, that's what Siris told me. I never found out for certain myself."

"I'll do it then," Ruby stated, her silver eyes burning with determination as she received the sacred cloth from the unkindled. "And I'll honor Siris' memory when I use it."

Vyliria found her eyes blurring with tears again, but for once they weren't born from sorrow. "You don't know how much that means to me Ruby. I'll make damned sure that I teach you this miracle to the best of my abilities."

"Yeah!" Ruby shouted, raising her hand, palm out, "Up high!"

Vyliria stared at her, before uttering an "Uhhh…"

"Come on, it's a high-five! You slap your hands together!" At the lack of change in her friend's body language, she asked, "Do you actually not have high-fives in Irithyll?"

"No," Vyliria responded, yet she still hesitantly raised her own left hand in a mirror to what Ruby had done seconds ago. "Like this?"

"Yep!" she smiled, popping the p, as she reared her hand back and slapped her palm against her armored counterpart.

"Well, thanks. I'll keep that in mind in the future."

"No problem," the red reaper replied. "Sooooo… when do we start?"

Before Vyliria could open her mouth to respond that now was as good a time as any, her potential to speak was cut off by Yang shouting, "Ruby! There you are! I was looking all over for you. I finally convinced Blake and Weiss to play Remnant: the Board game, and I wanted to get you in. What are you two doing all the way out here, anyways?"

"Okay, 1: I would love to join and crush you all, and 2: Apparently because… of mom, or at least how I feel about that, Vyliria wants to teach me a hex. It's a dark miracle, but it's a giant scythe! And the story behind it is about this girl who was the daughter of a goddess and a dragon, who had a really fluffy tail!" Ruby exclaimed.

"A fluffy tail?" Yang asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't ask me," Vyliria said, raising her hands in a placating manner. "I'm not the one who found it's fluffiness so significant that I ensured it would be passed down by word of mouth and in texts for millennia."

"Ooookay then," Yang concluded. "So are we going to play Remnant, or what Rubes?"

"Yeah I'm coming," Ruby said, "but first, when are you gonna start teaching me lifehunt scythe, Vyliria?"

"I'm actually free the rest of the day," she replied, "so we can start as soon as you're done, or around this time tomorrow." She paused for a moment, before speaking again, "That reminds me of something. Yang, there's something innate to your pyromancy flame that I keep forgetting to explain to you."

"Oh, what is it?" the blond brawler asked.

"You remember when I said that the flame reveals all and obscures all, correct?" At Yang's assent, she continued, "That was a bit literal. Thine flame reveals the truth of the world, and obscures lies. The art of pyromancy was first taught to man by Quelana, but Salaman did not find her at first. Quelana had cast a powerful illusion to hide where she dwelt, and it was only by chance that he quite literally stumbled into her abode. Whilst she was bathing. It's a miracle in and of itself that she didn't melt him right then and there." Vyliria had to pause while both Yang and Ruby burst out laughing, shortly joining them, before moving on when they calmed down a few seconds later. "He memorized the location so he'd be able to return, but in his own personal journal, mentioned that after a few months, one day he returned to learn from Quelana again, only to be unable to see the illusion. He asked Quelana if she had dismissed it, but she hadn't. They shortly discerned that a pyromancy flame of sufficient strength grants one a natural resistance to illusory magics. Though I highly doubt that there are any false walls of an arcane nature at Beacon, I merely thought that I should inform you of an ability you now possess through your catalyst."

"That's cool," Yang said, "But yeah, I can see how that's probably gonna be useless here. Thanks for telling me anyways. Hey, since you're walking along with us, you wanna join the Remnant game we're having?"

"I'd rather not, since I'll likely get my arse wiped if I do, but I'll happily watch."

"Oh, you're gonna love this," Ruby chimed in, as they walked back to the dorms. "Remnant is so fun!"

()

A/N: So Ruby is getting lifehunt scythe, and it won't suck. What does suck, is Vyliria's past. Siris went to fight parry god Hodrick, and got destroyed worse than a host who eats an assault greatbow glitch. The OG mad phantom then ripped out a chunk of his granddaughter's spine, to add to the pile with his "family." Vyliria paid him back tenfold.

Yes, I needed to go out of my way to reference Priscilla's Fluffy Tail. You can't not mention the Fluffy Tail when you talk about her. Praise the Fluffy Tail. (Touch Fluffy Tail by Ken Ashcorp intensifies in the background)

I had far more trouble than I should have deciding whether or not to call this one a Tale of Scythes or a Tail of Scythes. However, while I love terrible puns, I decided to take the moral high ground and prove myself better than Yang.

I like tragic backstory Seath better than morally bankrupt, always insane and evil Seath. And to a lesser extent I guess this also exonerates large chest ahead- ahem, Gwynevere since she was married off and sent away against her own will, just after giving birth. It really makes Gywn an egomaniacal, manipulative, dick. And if you work backwards on this trainwreck of events, it's possible that Havel and Seath were friends at one point, before the latter went nuts and the former tried to kill him, only to get locked in a tower by Gwyn, who viewed the insane dragon as more useful to figuring out a way to preserve his legacy than the human he'd rather have out of the way (since it was evident that Havel was no longer under his boot). It's just so much more Dark Souls to think of what might have been, compared to what actually happened. Friendship is Scaleless remains one of my most favored DS xovers for a reason.

Chekhov's gun is loaded, and that's all I'll say.