The legionnaire's mechadendrites tightened with a wet crunch. A fractal mesh of tiny fissures weaved themselves across a bone plated skull. A dull click sounded as his blade sank between the vertebrae of the creature. As its life bled out of it, a raging red eye stared at its blue tinted reflection in the lenses of his helm. The legionnaire gazed back as the beast continued its mindless struggles, until it finally grew still. Uncoiling his mechadendrites, he released the creature. Standing, he strode past five other carcasses, torn asunder just moments earlier. The corpses smoldered into nothingness, their smoke plumes rising from the blood parched ground.
As puzzling as the vanishing cadavers were, the novelty had worn off half a dozen skirmishes ago. Instead, what caught the legionnaire's attention was a set of structures on the horizon. A tall central tower peeked over the broad cliff range, surrounded by a few dozen smaller spires. They were far enough that his targeting cogitator could barely resolve the finer features. From what little he could see, the architecture had a definite gothic influence, but the overarching design wasn't quite Imperial. It wasn't any individual detail that led him to the conclusion, so much as a combination of countless factors that played off one another until the end result was just… off.
With that in mind, the legionnaire shifted his gaze to the night sky, and took it in. Fundamentally, it was a projection problem; finding which possible positions and orientations within the galaxy would give him the view of the Milky Way that sprawled above him now. He took his time, staring upwards as the minutes ticked by, waiting for his cogitators to iterate down to an approximate sector location. There was only so much he could do with his limited tools, but the information he'd found was still remarkable.
He was in the galactic south, far rim-wards in Segmentum Tempestus. It was a largely unexplored region of space; where the risk of straying so far from the Astronomican wasn't worth searching for any useful systems. There weren't any known worlds in the sector. He was effectively marooned with his war gear, a mechadendrite chassis, and the payload he'd been tasked to deliver into Iyanden's Dome of crystal seers. That particular operation was shot now. A pity, considering what the Legion had committed to it. To think the teleporter had shunted him halfway across the Segmentum… While it wasn't the most devastating teleporter mishap he'd ever heard of, it was certainly the most spectacular.
It wasn't the worst of situations, all things considered. He was still alive and mission ready. The Legion could use a stronghold in the south of Tempestus, and it was hardly as if he could pursue other objectives. Though it had been quite a while since he'd had free reign like this. Freedom to determine just what might further the goals of the Legion... At the very least, there would be the raw materials to exploit, but there was still an entire world to explore. The fact that the world was populated complicated matters, but he held out hope that he might find humans. It would be disappointing if there weren't any on the planet, but who was he to turn up his nose at an undiscovered world?
With a contented sigh, the legionnaire turned from the distant buildings, and made his way down the gentle incline, back to the half-track he'd spotted before the local wildlife attacked. It was a battered old thing, sitting on the edge of a dirt path that weaved its way through the forest. He finished giving its interior a cursory inspection. There wasn't anything impressive: paper images, crude short range radio transceivers, tightly folded canvas, and a myriad more primitive odds and ends that were scattered about the place. The cracked leather seats were hidden under a patched blanket, well-cleaned and well-repaired if not well-crafted. There were a few things that caught his eye though.
The vehicle didn't seem to run on promethium, or any hydrocarbon derivative for that matter. If there weren't more pressing matters, he would have taken the machine apart then and there. How it powered itself was a mystery. An electric vehicle was an odd, but not unheard of possibility, yet there weren't any obvious signs of the requisite power cells.
The legionnaire's mind drifted back to the present as he pried open one of the crates stowed in the back of the halftrack. It was filled with agricultural produce, and quite fresh for that matter. Wares for either trade or transport, he imagined. A pity he'd have to leave most of it to rot, though he supposed the halftrack's previous owner would be reunited with their goods soon enough.
Once more, he turned the situation over in his head. His immediate survival didn't seem to be at risk. He certainly wouldn't starve, and he'd been able to defend himself adequately thus far. Tempted as he was to make his way towards the signs of civilization, patience was key here. The natives might have already discovered his presence somehow. For all he knew, there was a line of guns waiting for him. The wiser course of action was to gather more information about this world before he took such a risk, and to bring what little assets he had properly into play. Anything and everything to give himself a better foundation to work with. It was far from unreasonable to make a longer term investment with his time.
Leaving the halftrack, he strode back into the forest. This wasn't a craft world, but he'd put that payload to use one way or another.
Ozpin sat nursing a cup of coffee as he cursed the lack of forethought he'd given to this year's hunter shadowing. Most active hunters had either declined the offer, or taken missions that first year students couldn't join them on. As things were, he'd have to convince Bartholomew to bring assistants on his next expedition. The sheer mess of the semester had him sinking back into his chair, as if the high backed monstrosity would grant him a reprieve from the tedium. Practically on cue, his scroll buzzed to inform him that an elevator was headed up to his office. That was right, Glynda had wanted to discuss something with him. Before he could turn towards the elevators to receive her, a bright light caught his eye.
An odd flare stretched up from the Emerald Forest, arcing slowly and inexorably into the sky. He thought it was some sort of firework at first, but it kept burning. Ozpin watched in rapt attention, even as the elevator doors slid open. Glynda spotted it as she stepped out, but wasn't quite as taken by the sight. Her eyes flicked towards it, but she paid it little regard as she arched a brow and cleared her throat. The soft sound was enough to drag Ozpin's focus back to the room.
"Glynda, when you told me there was a fire we needed to put out, I took it figuratively." He kept his tone curious as he spared a look back over his shoulder. The short glance caught a second flare rising out of the forest. "What brought you here?"
"It's the council today. They've been pressing us for a statement on the incident at the docks." She held up her scroll with a sardonic flourish. "They gave me quite the earful this morning. Most of it about our students' conduct in the city. Councilor Marigold went as far as telling us, verbatim mind you, to either teach them restraint or to tighten their leashes."
He breathed in with a hiss. It hadn't been too long since team RWBY had fought at the docks, but the council had responded uncharacteristically fast. In and of itself, it shouldn't have been an issue, but if they were on the verge of publicizing their sentiments, he did need to nip it in the bud. With a resigned sigh, he started to mentally compose the first draft of the statement in his head. Well-practiced or not, the bureaucratic side of his work had long gotten old. "You were right to bring this to me. Especially if councilors are starting to see Beacon as fair game. I'm sure we've drawn up similar statements before-"
He found his gaze drawn back to the Emerald Forest, as the mysterious pair of lights shot towards the eastern horizon. Following his eyes, Glynda frowned, though her reply was more contemplative than irritated.
"Ozpin… We still have surveillance drones from last semester's initiation in the Emerald Forest. If they spot anything in there, we'll send a team in." She offered as she settled into the seat across from him. "It shouldn't be anything serious."
Dragging his eyes away from the odd sight, he managed to nod his assent.
"It shouldn't be anything serious."
There was a mysterious substance that suffused everything in the world around him.
The legionnaire hadn't been able to consider the more arcane readouts of his armor when he'd first touched down; between the native fauna, and the timescales involved with many of the measurements, the information had simply been inaccessible to him. It seemed his patience was already paying dividends.
That didn't mean the readouts weren't puzzling. He'd found a substance that most commonly took a particulate form, with four major sub-types. He could see the substance at work even as he analyzed it, morphing matter in unprecedented ways. They behaved like catalysts to reactions that simply couldn't happen; crystalline structures that could rapidly decompose into different forms of matter.
Anywhere else, he would've thrown the samples over his shoulder and declared the world warp stained, but he couldn't detect any discontinuities in spacetime; not a single reading was a milithere above reality-baseline. The entire world seemed touched by the warp, but not so deeply corrupted in the way daemon worlds were. The effect was far subtler, but no less tangible. After some time, he realized his instruments couldn't access the full picture. Risky as it was, he knew a far more direct method to test these subtle differences. A violation of the 15th universal law for sure, but he was well past granting such thoughts credence. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
He took off his helm, inhaling the rush of air that repressurized his armor. He could practically feel his immune system spool up to full readiness as he let the world's air fill his three lungs. The planet was saturated with the substance, and the atmosphere was no exception. His body and augmetics detected foreign chemical agents and started filtering them out of his blood stream. As he looked at the world around him, everything seemed so much more vibrant than it was through his helm. The colors were more intense, the green of the trees became a startling emerald, the grey of rocks and stones gained a metallic sheen.
The sight before him was fundamentally… different. An internal glow seemed to pervade everything, creating a much brighter, striking image than he had seen on any other world. He looked down at his gauntlets, and the two mechadendrites that sub-consciously mirrored his primary limbs. Their dark sea green was subdued compared to the world around him, the normally proud and bright Legion's hydra painted onto his gauntlets was muted and discrete. The fact that one of his eyes was an augmetic and still registered these differences only furthered his theory of the world's questionable relationship with the warp.
Mind filled with questions, he replaced his helm and strode away from his makeshift orbital launch site.
Without any proper infrastructure, only the thinnest trickle of data was coming back down from the two orbiters he'd launched, but he'd expected as much. Choked uplink or not, the mere execution of the launches had won him invaluable information.
For one, the world's gravity was deceptively low. His augmetics and what little remained of his physiology had adapted quickly enough for it not be immediately apparent, but when he'd made the trajectory calculations, the effects were nothing if not noticeable. He was inclined to blame the horizon. With a radius just under the Terran mean, the matter hadn't been the forefront of his mind.
Anomalously low density of the planet aside, the most pressing implication was the relative ease of access to space.
If the payload's two thrusters were enough to make it into orbit, it ought to have been crowded up there. He'd even dedicated one of the two precious satellites to signals intelligence on that assumption, but could only curse that choice now. There was nothing else up there. According to the uplink, he was eavesdropping on dead rocks and empty space. Foul as his fortune was, it was the right decision with what he knew at the time. That knowledge didn't stop the wastage from vexing him though. He'd worked through the night on those damnable things.
The legionnaire weaved his way through the thick forest, hunting down anything he could use to camouflage the three-meter monolith of a payload. He didn't expect much luck on that front, but the time let him settle his thoughts.
Was he on a technological backwater of a world? It was a theory that lined up with the crude halftrack by the road. Such a situation was far from optimal, but still entirely workable. The next most likely possibility was that something more… sinister had stopped the natives' attempts to reach space. A Necron tomb world might have such a system in place, but that particular branch of theories had little evidence to show thus far. Especially if the two scrap-heaps that passed themselves off as orbiters had made it to orbit.
Time would ameliorate the issue. The second satellite would take much longer to bear fruit, but they would be far finer. From a relative standpoint of course. It was still the crudest augur craft he'd ever had the displeasure of setting his eyes on, but it had imaging sensors and a magnetometer, and that was all that counted for now. He'd also managed to cobble together a Gellar-Malcador potentiometer, but it wasn't anything impressive. He'd get a few minutes warning if the skies were about to rain blood and tormented souls, but he didn't trust it for anything subtler.
It would take weeks to obtain even preliminary results, but it was the best he could do without any proper voidcraft. The next key step was to establish-
There was movement.
His reactor ramped up to a gentle purr as he slid into the darker depths of the thicket. His heartbeat slowed, and his mechadendrites stilled. The grip of his storm bolter found its way into his hand.
The sensor contact bobbed into view, a little floating contraption not so different from a servo-skull. A trio of identical companions followed it, drifting atop the forest floor as they swept through the clearing in a sparse formation. They seemed oblivious to him, but the legionnaire hid a while longer, letting them get to the edge of his passive auspex range before slipping out into their wake.
They used grav technology; a far cry from the battered halftrack. Aside from the ruin their existences had left of his developing theories, there were more immediate connotations to consider. He hadn't expected his launches to go unnoticed, but to provoke such an immediate response? He'd made a flawed assumption. Doubtless it was one of dozens which he needed to correct, but that called for more information.
And it wouldn't do to let any new sources of it get away.
Only half the scouting drones made it back. They'd found a few of the missing ones, in pieces on the forest floor.
Glynda couldn't remember the last time something like this- No this just had to be unprecedented, considering the state they'd found the drones in.
"This is practically in our backyard, Ozpin. For goodness sake, if this had happened a few months ago, we'd be initiating our first years in there. The Emerald Forest is meant to be a controlled environment. Our controlled environment." Ozpin was listening, but she could only pray he was taking her words to heart. "There's an unknown quantity in there, and it clearly doesn't want to be found. A large scale sweep is entirely justified, and it wouldn't be difficult either. Give me a handful of the staff, a dozen Hunters, and this'll be resolved by tomorrow morning."
Slowly, Ozpin nodded his acknowledgement. With a low hum, he drained a mug of coffee and spun his scroll towards her.
"I've no doubt it would be-" He gestured at the scroll's screen. "But I think we ought to play this close to the chest for now. Those surveillance drones weren't destroyed. They were disassembled."
She looked down at Ozpin's scroll, taking in the same pictures she'd seen not long ago. A clearing in the Emerald Forest, filled with drone parts laid out as meticulously as an exploded view of their schematics. There were two others like it, and she suspected they just hadn't found the rest yet.
"I don't think this takes away from my point, Ozpin." She kept her voice level, even as her mind spun to imagine what Ozpin was getting at. "Whoever did this still needs to be found."
"Why haven't they then?" He set down his mug with a sigh, and massaged his temple. "Glynda, something just feels off about this. Whether those flares were a distress signal, or even a bunch of drunkards out on a dare, the drones should've found out what happened. Whoever was out there might even have felt incentivized to reveal themselves, if only to get back to Vale safely." He leaned back as he took a deep, meditative breath. "But that's not what happened."
Gods, was that the angle he was playing? Of course the Headmaster would immediately lean towards the conclusion that someone had done this with a concrete rationale in mind. She could vaguely see where he was coming from. Whether or not she thought the whole situation was nonsensical, this chain of events was entirely crystal clear to someone out there. Now, whether that person was of sound mind was another question entirely.
"I get the impression that they're looking for something. And even if what they did to the drones was just a roundabout way of saying 'back off', this all is still incredibly suspect." Ozpin retrieved his scroll, collapsing it with a gentle click. "Despite of sending up those flares, they've gone to great lengths to preserve their privacy. They're hiding away from anyone or anything looking for them. If we don't know why they've done so, should we really rush to drag them into the light? Escalating this while we're in the dark is a fool's errand."
Glynda heaved a small sigh, knowing his mind was set. Whether it was an unhinged wanderer or… something else, a cautious approach was best advised. Still, shaky as the path was, she still felt they had no option other than to proceed forwards. Uncertain consequences or not, they simply couldn't stand idle while this problem festered in the Emerald Forest. Immediate action was still necessary, whether it entailed some degree of escalation or not.
Perhaps there was a compromise though; a solution that would net them the best of both approaches.
"I concur that we should keep it quiet for now, but I can't condone sitting back and waiting for something to happen." Ozpin furrowed his brows, but gave her a nod to continue. "I'll go myself, with the remaining surveillance drones. It would look nothing out of the ordinary. Something odd happened to our drones, and we sent out a faculty member to investigate."
Ozpin sat there and thought for a while. He may as well have been carved from stone as he considered her offer. She waited him out, knowing this was far from a simple decision. His reply came after some time, delivered after palpably glacial deliberation.
"Don't force anything, Glynda. You'll just be there to look around and get to grips with what's happening."
Taking the tacit approval for what it was, she stood and headed back to the CCT's elevators. She had work ahead of her.
The reconnaissance vehicles were not STC derivatives.
For one, the grav drives used a far simpler cycle than any Imperial or known xenos craft. It represented an efficiency loss that should have left them about as mobile as bricks, but by employing one of the world's mysterious substances, they somehow brought their thrust to weight ratio to unity.
There was more than one type of it at work though. In fact, the overall design seemed entirely reliant on the anomalous materials, abusing them in all its power hungry components. The legionnaire had seen devices with far superior power density, but never quite like this.
Comparatively, the electronics were mundane, but no less enlightening. They operated on a non-Imperial power standard, but it was nothing unreasonable for the application of an ersatz servo-skull. Any STC technology would have completely eclipsed the hardware's performance, so this revelation effectively killed any hopes of finding an intact STC database on the planet. A pity by any reckoning.
Advanced, but ultimately outmoded was his final conclusion.
The wider galaxy most likely maintained an overarching technological advantage over this world, aberrant chemistry aside. That particular oddity certainly merited further investigation. The reconnaissance craft had given him only a glimpse of the materials' applications, and he had an inkling that there was far more to them than he suspected. At least the natives hadn't fully plumbed those depths either, considering their late industrial stage of development.
The more complex production process that the devices demanded also added a degree of robustness to his conclusions, but how did these discoveries correspond with his prior information? Were the empty orbits an odd local quirk then? A cultural taboo against spaceflight? He wasn't too taken with that theory, but he hardly had enough evidence to dismiss it out of hand. Another likely explanation was system failure on the part of his hastily built orbiters. Without proper shielding, a run in with an unexpected radiation belt might have damaged vulnerable components. Their final orbits should have been well below any such belt, but transient features of magnetospheres were always difficult to model.
He was pulled from his musings by the auspex return of an aircraft approaching from the south-west. The legionnaire reckoned it came from the cliffside facility he'd observed earlier. He'd suspected a link between it and his robotic pursuers, but it was good to have some empirical validation. Decelerating and descending, the aircraft's tilt jets swung downwards as it deployed what remained of the surveillance automata. While the larger craft's design and performance correlated well with his technological expectations, something else grabbed his attention. There was a silhouette in the dropship, making ready to disembark. A human silhouette.
The sight of the species was a welcome one, at least to an extent. Frankly, he was surprised they'd sent only a single person out here, considering the fate that had befallen their autonomous searches. The legionnaire wasn't entirely certain if he was ready for this. He was still missing information that he would've liked to possess before approaching any of them. In his experience, living, breathing sources were… tedious to maintain. His hand wasn't being forced here, and remaining out of sight was a perfectly valid response. Or was it?
They might find the payload. Without its two thrusters, it was essentially immobile now, and the stealth capabilities of the steel and ceramite pillar were questionable at best. If they found it, they'd have every incentive to toy with it, and it wasn't built to be tamper resistant, or even stable. Quite the opposite for that matter.
Even a single misstep with its contents might lose this world and everything on it. The Legion would benefit little from turning this world to a desolate wasteland. He'd have far better control over the outcome of a direct confrontation than anything else. It was the best option available to him. If they had come here looking for him, he'd grant them their wish.
Glynda strode behind the drones, quickly coming across the path they'd identified in their earlier sweeps.
Path was a generous term by her reckoning. It was halfway between a dried out river bed and a game trail, but it was a trade route that some of the outlying villages used to bring their produce to Vale. Ostensibly at least. Like most roads outside the kingdom, it was a dangerous one. Far too many people had lost their lives using it; even so close to Beacon, the forest was full of monsters.
Crop in hand, she started down the path.
The missing drones had been taken apart and laid out in clearings, their parts carefully arranged like the ritual circles of an absurd, but unquestionably unnerving cult. Beacon's maps of the area weren't perfect, but there should have been a handful of similar clearings along the road, and she could hardly think of a better place to begin the search. While he hadn't voiced it, she knew Ozpin was certain that she wouldn't find anything, though she was inclined to disagree. She knew full well it might have just been obstinacy on her part, but she couldn't deny the way her gut told her that something would turn up.
It took less than ten minutes for the sentiment to be validated.
Someone was close by. It felt like an odd shadow on her mind, a strange uneasiness murmuring in the back of her head. It was a sudden conviction that her mental map of her surroundings was incomplete, or outdated. A door opening just out of sight. Watchful eyes staring out of shadows. It was a sensation she would've recognized anywhere. She looked off to the side of the path and stifled a gasp.
A mismatched pair of glowing blue eyes stared back at her from a vantage point two and a half meters off the ground. The helmet they were set was an asymmetrical, blocky thing, with a telescopic apparatus fixed to its side. Unreadable iconography stretched across the surface of his armor, the dark green plates leaving his body completely untouched by the outside world. The armor clad giant matched her gaze, and stepped out onto road. Massive, painted pauldrons engulfed his shoulders. Six tendril like appendages flowed out of his towering body, swimming through the air to loosely mirror his arms. The gigantic chest plate bore a three headed beast, tinted a lighter, more striking green than the rest of the armor.
He drew closer to her, and she fought against a sudden impulse to step back. As if sensing her wariness, the stranger came to a stop a few paces from her, examining her as closely as she did him.
She'd expected either a rogue hunter, or even a skilled vagabond from outside the kingdoms, but nothing like this. His impossibly heavy armor, the extra robotic limbs, and his mismatched eye lenses alone would've been enough to shock her, but it was hardly the end of it. She hadn't immediately noticed the worst of it, but once she did, it overpowered everything else about him. He seemed to lack a quality that she'd seen in practically everything in her life. He seemed muted to the world around him, like a void, a negative space for light and color to enter and never return.
Rallying her nerves, Glynda took a breath and broke the silence.
"I am Professor Goodwitch of Beacon Academy." He watched her, still and quiet. "We sent scouting drones here not long ago. Would you happened to have seen them?"
"So they were yours then."
Though steady, his voice was harsh and lined with static. She took a deep breath, knowing she'd found her quarry. Not that she hadn't already suspected it, but the situation changed now that he'd effectively admitted it himself. In a distant way, she almost appreciated the way he'd immediately taken responsibility for it all.
"Let me preface this by saying that we aren't looking for any retribution or compensation, but we do know what you did to them." The drones weren't marked, but everyone knew the Emerald Forest was a de facto extension of Beacon's grounds. What game was he playing? "We just want to know why."
"I have found myself starved of certain resources as of late, and those… drones of yours presented me an opportunity to resolve that issue." His helmet's speaker modulated his voice, but it was still deep enough for her to feel in her chest, a visceral reverberation with each word he spoke. "You must understand; I wasn't aware they belonged to your people."
Glynda twisted her crop in her hands. Starved of resources so close to Vale? And with armor like that? Any other time and place, she'd have been certain he was leading her on, but not now. Something about him made the idea feel uncomfortably plausible. Baseless as the feeling was, she wasn't sure if now was the right time to challenge it.
"You were quite thorough in your disassemblies." For now, it'd be best if she tried a different tack. "Where did you get those skills?"
He seemed to take pause at that, tilting his helm to the side ever so slightly. Suddenly, his gaze snapped back down to her. When his reply came, he delivered it in the most appraisingly careful tone she'd ever heard.
"Mars. I trained on Mars."
She'd never heard of it, and that truly was saying something. She knew enough academies and educational institutions to last a lifetime, whether they were for Huntsmen or not.
"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the place. Is it on Sanus?"
"Sol, actually." He hummed and drew a step closer, a measure of tension draining from his posture. "But if the name of Mars carries no significance to you, then any other point of reference would only sound more… otherworldly to you."
She had a sudden hunch about what felt off here. On an impulse, she began working through the assumptions she'd made the moment he'd turned up.
"Are you a Hunter?"
"I don't believe so."
"You don't believe-" He was evading, dancing around the elephant in the room. It would've driven her up the wall if not for the sinking sensation in her gut. She tried another tack. "What were you doing in this forest?"
He examined her from on high, letting something approaching mirth seep into his voice.
"Unforeseen circumstances brought me to this world, and I've been in this forest ever since. I've spent the time reorienting myself to this place."
"This world." She couldn't keep herself from stepping back, but her voice would've given away her shock regardless. "You mean you're not from Remnant?"
He nodded with a fluid ease that belied the magnitude of the claim he was making.
"Indeed. Space, and other worlds. The wider galaxy and cosmos." He tilted his helm to the side again. "I don't suppose your people have a way of getting there by any chance?" She shook her head in mute disbelief. "Ah, a pity I suppose."
Was he lying? He could've been mad, but somehow she knew he wasn't, or at least not in a trivial way. Something told her he was telling the truth, and terrifyingly enough, the rational part of her was coming to that conclusion too. Everything lined up: His armor, what had happened, his behavior, everything. Dear gods- This was first contact.
"I-" She was at a loss for words, fighting a bitter, two front war against awe and dismay. An unlikely alliance of wonder, propriety and trepidation emerged victorious, and combined forces to rally her thoughts. "If that truly is the case, then it's wonderful news to hear that we aren't alone in the universe. I'd like to say that I speak for all of Remnant in welcoming you here."
He accepted her words with a deep nod and a sardonic sweep of the arm.
"Flattered as I am to receive such a warm welcome, I'm sure we can reserve any formalities for a more suitable occasion." His head turned back the way she came, with a pair of his robotic arms swaying the same way. "Beacon Academy. Would it happen to be the complex west of here? Spires and buildings set atop a cliff?"
"Yes, that's correct." Glad as she was that he hadn't demanded a full set of arcane diplomatic rituals, his blasé mindset was a little disconcerting. "We train students there to hunt Grimm; creatures that pose a threat to… well, everyone I suppose. All of civilization." She looked him over, taking in the ghoulish armor once more. Well maintained as it looked, the scattered scratches and dents attested to its use. "Do you think you've encountered them?"
"Unnatural creatures that emulate the form of local wildlife?" She nodded; it was an odd description but it certainly fit the bill. "I believe so then. The morphology did strike me as odd, even for mutants."
She was glad the Grimm hadn't torn him to pieces, though it seemed their visitor was no stranger to defending themselves. A pity one of his first impressions of Remnant had been such a negative one, but at least they could fix that now. She made to call the bullhead back down, her mind swimming with the ramifications of this. Even if she ignored his armor, most of the devices he had on him were completely unfamiliar. How different or advanced was his technology? For that matter, what about everything else in space?
"I'll arrange for a bullhead- A type of air based transport. We'll be able to properly get to grips with everything at Beacon. Provided there isn't anything you've left elsewhere, if you'd follow me-"
"That won't be necessary."
"Nonsense." Glynda felt her brows furrow as she looked down at her scroll. "I can hardly leave anyone stranded in the Grimmlands, much less a visitor from another world." It still felt surreal to say it. "I'll have to insist that-"
"Just as I must insist on turning down your offer."
There was a dangerous edge to his voice that practically set her aura buzzing. Raising her eyes once more, she found him resting a gauntlet on the grip of a gun. She wasn't sure how he'd kept the massive, double barreled monstrosity out of sight, but there it was. His finger was off the trigger, but not far from it.
"Pardon me?"
"There is information that I need more time to collect. I'd rather obtain what I can from here first."
She adjusted her grip on her own weapon, but kept her posture unconcerned and relaxed. Between the library and the CCT, Beacon had no lack of resources. She wasn't entirely sure where this adamant refusal was coming from. A cultural issue? Did his people have different customs of hospitality?
"Whatever it is you're looking for, I'm sure we could bring you up to speed far more easily at Beacon."
"Professor Goodwitch of Beacon Academy-" Something unsettlingly cold crept into his voice, a steely edge as severe as a chisel on a tombstone. "I know little of this world. Since the moment I arrived, I have been beset by its inhabitants, and hounded by automata. If you were in my place, would you follow the first stranger who offered you sanctuary? However convinced I am that your goodwill is genuine, and that what you've told me is true, does it not remain in my best interest to validate that? I only ask that grant me time to do so independently."
Glynda bit the inside of her lip, realizing she'd overstepped. Would it have been so hard for her to have looked at this from his perspective? And it was foolish to have forgotten what was at stake here. A mistake here could go badly for everyone involved. Ozpin had even warned her not to push for anything.
"I understand then." He didn't relax at that, but his hand drifted away from the gun. She hadn't realized the six extra limbs had stilled until they began moving once more. Tension didn't quite evaporate from the standoff. "In that case, I would like to say that Beacon would be glad to provide you with any supplies or assistance you might need in the meanwhile."
"Am I a fallen deity to be plied with tributes and offerings?"
"No, not at all." She bristled, but didn't rise to the bait, despite how she could practically taste the grim bemusement in his words. Gods, he was acting like he had the upper hand when he was the one stranded in the Emerald Forest. With a chill, she realized there was no way of knowing if he actually did. "It's a simple offer of aid from one… from one sentient being to another."
"A gesture of cooperation?" She nodded, watching him mull over the notion. It was telling that he put so much thought into this. She wasn't sure if she liked the connotations. "I do appreciate the offer, but my supplies will be adequate for the foreseeable future."
"Then we'll check in periodically to ensure that remains the case."
"I'm sure you will."
She glanced away from him with a grimace, massaging her temple. The implication wasn't at the forefront of her mind, but she couldn't deny it was there. With another one of his deep nods, he turned to head back into the depths of the Emerald Forest, but on an impulse she called him back. As she peered up at him, he met her gaze, letting the azure glow of his eye lenses burn their afterimages onto her retina.
"I don't think I caught your name."
To the legionnaire, the reply came easily. He'd repeated it so many times it had carved itself deep into his psyche. Was it even a lie anymore? To him, it was an honest declaration of his identity, and all that he represented as an individual. He was the first bulwark against the terror, and a single brick in the wall. He was the crest of the wave, but no more than a drop in the ocean. He was the tip of the spear in the immensity of a phalanx. He was one of many. He was Alpharius.
"I am Alpharius."
Glynda strapped back into the bullhead as it took off, watching through the window as the Emerald Forest dropped away. She shut her eyes as she leaned her head back against the cool hull. She stayed there for a few moments, just listening to the muted roar of the engines, and the whistling of the wind.
Frankly, she thought she'd be ready for anything this morning, but who could've seen this coming? Of all things, first contact. She never thought it'd ever happen, much less in her lifetime. How astronomical were those odds? She opened her eyes, spotting Beacon in the distance, bright and proud at the top of the cliffs. She wondered if the impossible timing was good or bad fortune on her part. Deep in her bones, she knew something big would come of this, for good or ill.
Her scroll started buzzing the instant the CCT came into line of sight. Ozpin must have been on the edge of his seat waiting for her to get back, and she couldn't find it in herself to blame him. She expanded her scroll and answered it.
"And so our valiant Huntress returns to the fold." He sounded like he was in a good mood. How long would it last? "Did you find anything interesting out there?"
She couldn't help but chuckle softly, shaking her head as she mentally ran through the absurdity of what she'd have to report. Gods knew this news would throw him through one hell of a loop. That said… maybe it was only fair to return the favor after all these years.
"Well, as much as I'd hate to quote you-" She felt a humorless smile inch its way across her face. "What you're about to hear might sound hard to believe."
The payload had become unstable.
It hadn't destabilized. The distinction was the only reason his return was punctuated by the soft crackle of trampled undergrowth rather than the sundering roar of his storm bolter clearing the way. Though it had moved into an unstable state, the payload's one and only redundancy had engaged, reigning in what could've been an exacerbating feedback loop. That didn't mean it was safe yet; he had no idea how long the reprieve would last. For all he knew, the release sequence was only a few seconds away from starting.
The legionnaire soon reached the grove he'd left the payload in, sending birds and critters fleeing before him. There it was, with its dull unpainted ceramite framed by the verdant greenery that filled the forest. It was a quaint little place, one that belied the distinct possibility that it could very well become the epicenter of a cataclysm. He needed to quantify that possibility, and for that, he needed data directly from it. He stabbed a mechadendrite into a data-port without further ceremony, taking in everything the payload had to tell him. The internal systems promptly informed him that the malfunctions were caused by the machine spirit; mortally offended for reasons known only to the Omnissiah.
He dismissed the drivel and dug deeper, well used to the nonsense that came with reverse engineering Imperial tech in this millennia. Machine spirits were fascinating things where they did manifest, but there in laid the key question: When or how did they manifest? With the exception of the most radical wings of the Mechanicus, a ball-bearing would never have one. And for a similar majority, war Titans undoubtedly did possess them. The true debate was over the cut-off point, and introducing the effects of the Warp quite literally introduced entirely new dimensions to the issue. It was a question that might never be resolved, but for whatever reason, the legionnaire couldn't help but think that the glorified refrigeration unit before him didn't quite meet the bar.
After a few minutes, he managed to convince himself that the payload wouldn't destabilize the next time a stiff breeze swept over it. Still, he wasn't entirely content with walking away as if nothing had happened. If the controller failed, there would be nothing to stop the release sequence. He needed to keep it in a far more controlled environment than this. Even with a full set of fail-safes, the entire system was never built to last.
Perhaps Beacon Academy would get his cooperation faster than anyone anticipated. The payload had changed what was on the horizon for all parties involved. With a potential apocalypse on line, he would have to move far more hastily than he would have liked.
With a sigh, the legionnaire withdrew his mechadendrite, and did a round to make sure the payload was on firm ground. At least there were humans on this world, and he was glad his initial encounter with them had been free of any misunderstandings. Then again, any meeting between two sentient beings that didn't end in gunfire was peaceful enough by his standards. Goodwitch seemed to be sane and rational, and he held out hope that the rest of Remnant's people shared those traits.
Remnant. A fascinating name for a world, though he did wonder how it came to be. Unless the orbiter's magnetometer was about to send him exceptionally alarming results, it must have been metaphorical. In that same vein, he also hoped it wouldn't prove as oddly prophetic as the name Krieg proved to be. It wasn't uncommon for the people left on forgotten worlds to eventually conclude that they were the only ones left in the galaxy. That made for a feasible explanation for the name, if unsubstantiated. More information about their culture would prove useful in the times to come, but for now only one thing truly deserved his interest.
The Grimm. Remnant's alleged existential threat to civilization. He had yet to be convinced, as the only example he'd encountered was far from deserving of such a damning classification. He'd grant them the benefit of the doubt for now, in light of the low sample size he based his assessment on. If nothing else, their extermination seemed to hold a special weight to Remnant's people, assuming Goodwitch spoke with their voice on the matter. Their technology might have been holding them back too.
Regardless of where he would take this relationship, he needed to know what they were lacking in. Enabling their penchant for Grimm slaying seemed to be a viable path forwards, and on the surface, the matter seemed simple enough. Given the appropriate resources, he could certainly tailor biological or chemical agents for the application, but he'd have to see if they'd tried such avenues before. Perhaps the Grimm had developed their own countermeasures. In the worst case, cold steel had already proven its efficacy.
Time would reveal more possibilities, but with the unstable payload, he couldn't afford to dally too long. Caution was in order, but he needed to develop his relationship with Beacon sooner rather than later. Whatever form it might take.
Pyrrha had never seen dusk settle over the Emerald Forest.
Amber rays of light filtered through the treetops, canvasing the forest floor with a gentle, speckled glow. The whistling wind rocked the rich green branches to and fro, painting kaleidoscopic patterns to accompany her on her leisurely walk through the woods. She let her eyes wander and after a few minutes of tranquil silence, they came across a tree with a remarkably spear-shaped hole in it.
She turned to her partner with a smile playing across her lips. "Good memories, Jaune?"
"No idea what you're talking about, Pyrrha" He grumbled as he eyed the tree, but the grin breaking out on his face betrayed him.
Her own smile widened to match it, but she hefted her duffle bag to hide the hint of pink in her cheeks. They continued down the path, settling back into a comfortable silence as they kept a look out for any Grimm. Not that they were expecting any. Initiation had really cleared out the forest, and it'd take some time before Grimm properly filled the area again.
But they weren't here to hunt Grimm today.
Professor Goodwitch had tasked them with bringing supplies to a Huntsman in the area. One they had no means of contacting, only a vague idea of where they might be, and wouldn't be out looking for them either. The professor hadn't even tried to make it sound reasonable. Naturally, her team had plenty of questions about this whole thing, but that hadn't stopped them from being saddled with food, water, and miscellaneous camping equipment before being sent on their way.
She heard Nora chatting with Ren somewhere behind them. Chatting at him, really. She knew they were still focused on this miniature mission though, so she didn't mind. Not that it was her place to keep charge of the team. Their leader had paced away, studying the ground for tracks. She didn't think he'd have much luck finding any traces of a professional Hunter, but he was doing his best. As the team began dispersing, she decided to follow suit, but made a point of staying in sight of everyone. The path widened and flattened once they got past where the professor had last seen their mystery Hunter, but there were still no signs of them.
They'd been told to expect as much.
In fact, team JNPR was entirely allowed to just drop off their duffle bags close to the dried out riverbed, but on the Bullhead they all agreed that wasn't going to happen. Apart from leaving a job half done, none of them wanted to turn down a chance to get to the bottom of this.
Further along, a squat little half-track came into view. She hadn't seen many of them before, but she supposed anyone driving these roads had good reason to use them. Its well-worn treads kept it perched against the river bank, with the open cargo bed facing her. Had there been a breakdown? Maybe they needed a team to watch their backs while they got the thing moving again. Underwhelming as it was, it could've been an explanation. There wasn't anyone in sight though…
She peered into the cabin as she got closer, but nothing she saw prompted her to think it was anything other than abandoned. Old and well lived-in, but almost eerily forgotten. As if someone had been driving it not a few days ago, but suddenly forgotten it. It smelt of spices and heat, and warm dusty bodies, but not, as she'd been afraid, of decay and rot. Along the dashboard, there was a collection of astonishingly carved wooden knickknacks, wonderfully decorated with brass and fabric inlays. A thin scattering of sand and earth dotted the cargo bed, outlining the carefully stacked crates.
In the midst of the rustic clutter, a picture caught her eye near the steering wheel. It was a Faunus couple by a farm, smiling in the sun. A deer and a swan Faunus by the looks of things, but in all honesty, the woman in the portrait could've convinced her it was any of half a dozen different birds. Gods, that probably wasn't a great sentiment to have, was it? Biting her lip, Pyrrha stepped away from it, and gave the rest of it a once-over. Their haul was still in the back, fresh enough for any market in the world. Hauntingly deserted as it was, she still had no idea if the halftrack belonged to the Hunter they were looking for.
Shaking her head, she checked her weapons again, making sure the duffle bag wasn't in their way. It hurt to think about, but the Grimm would've probably gotten to them first. She still hoped to find them, but so far it wasn't looking good on that front.
The river meandered up ahead of her, as ancient trees and gentle earthen swells rose in its path. The ground turned stony, dirt blending into gravel and rock. She glanced over her shoulder at her team; she'd have to slow down to keep them in eyeshot. Easing herself to a stop, she swept her gaze around her once more, but their rotten luck held. Maybe they were going about this wrong. What would someone out here need? Fundamentally, anyone needed food, safety and warmth. A fire could provide all of that if whoever made it was careful about attracting Grimm. It was a long shot, but maybe they should've been looking for smoke, or even light once it got darker. If this Hunter really didn't want to be found, it'd all be for naught, but it wouldn't hurt to keep other possibilities in mind.
Just as she turned to share the idea with the rest of JNPR, a splash of color caught her eye. A hint of pale white against the ruddy brown ground. It was just barely in sight, in the shadow of a trench or ledge. The low light made it hard to know what exactly. Carefully, she made her way down the path. The river had dug a series of ditches into the cracked dirt, deep rounded gullies carved behind rocks and boulders, hardened as the sun baked the mud. It made for slow progress, but soon enough she got her eyes on the dark nook she'd spotted.
It was shallow trench, laying in the shadow of a boulder. A wing tip, with ghostly light feathers peeked out the side. Wing tips- She'd found them! Easing her way over the treacherous ground, she was on the verge of shouting back to her team when the friendly call died on the tip of her tongue.
A crimson ellipse carpeted the bottom of the ditch, a glinting burgundy in the sunset. A vague silhouette sat at the end of it, still as the stones and shadows it was nestled in.
Pyrrha drew closer, plunging apprehension and morbid curiosity dragging her unerringly towards the wing that had first lured her in, meters away from the body. It was wedged between the boulder and a dead, dry log, its base bloodied and torn. A whisper of moonlight peeked between the amber and ashy clouds, bathing the ditch in a pale, actinic glow.
Even in the stark light of the shattered moon, the presence of the corpse seemed so surreal to her. Propped up against the low dirt wall, the woman was frozen like a statue, her bronze skin turning a pallid gray. Pyrrha sank to her knees, uncaring of how the ground smeared her greaves red. With the dreadful inevitability of an avalanche, her gaze traveled up the Faunus' body, past the sheared wings, and the dusty, blood-soaked clothes. Up past the raw fingers, and shattered nails.
Pyrrha's eyes settled on a single long cut, carving her neck from ear to ear.