Sparks Among the Stars

by Lorithomar

At the fall of Beacon, Ozpin enacts a final, desperate plan. Now, the sparks have been lit and scattered throughout the Blind Eternities. Meanwhile, the former headmaster finds himself on a plane that he thought he would never see again. However, he is not alone, for alongside him is another soul; smaller, but more honest...

9. Chapter 9

A/N: As a small warning, I am not sure how great you will all find the fight scenes. I did my best, and that is all I can do. In addition, I am not sure when the next chapter will be out, as I shall be away for a bit.

Anyway, big shout out to all my watchers, fans, and followers, and a most special shout out to my beta-reader, Unseen Lurker, who ever helps to keep this story from derailing.

Now, sit back, relax, read, and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 9: Battles, Brawls, and Ghosts

Ruby

Agryem, the Ghost Quarter

First District

Ravnica

Everything shifted in an explosion of motion, as the twitchers and ghosts began to rush forward, and as massive, echoing bellow sounded out in the distance.

Everything moved

Anastasia raised her mace like a baton, and her black-and-gold barrier expanded outwards making several ghosts nearest them be flung backward and dissipate into ether with horrid shrieks.

But there were still a lot more coming, alongside the Tin Street creatures. Triel kept chanting hurriedly, while Anastasia's mace started glowing as well.

Vimes' blade burst into a coating of flame as the first of the creatures closed the distance. With a muted curse, he charged forward and swung his blade into the fray, cutting one down instantly, before blocking the blades of another with his shield, before more flames leaped from his shield and onto the creature, immolating it. As it fell, a third took its place in a flurry of blows.

With a snarl, Mumblechance swung his halberd and flung the lantern off its head and straight at one of the ghosts rushing towards the group, more specifically towards Anastasia and Rat. That lantern collided with the ghost's face, staggering it, and allowing the thrull to bury his halberd straight through its chest. A moment later, its ghostly head was smashed by Anastasia's mace. Mumblechance then blocked a creature's knives with the haft of his halberd, before a spell from Anastasia reduced it to dust.

Ruby had to move. Keep moving, that was what dad and Uncle Qrow had always taught, after all. Just keep moving. So, she dashed forward into the fray amidst a shower of rose petals, Crescent Rose swinging and twirling to life in her hands. Several of the creatures and ghosts promptly swarmed towards her.

Ruby raised Crescent Rose at a perpendicular angle, just in time to insect the pair of very long knives from impaling her through her head. CLANG. She channeled more of her aura into her arms and weapon, and simultaneously pushed and leaped up and backward into a flip. Crescent Rose flashed, and the… thing's left arm started to fall detached from its body. The creature promptly whipped its dagger at Ruby, which she barely managed to dodge, and then it… spun, grabbed its severed arm, and then proceeded to… attack her with it, slamming the limb at her over and over, it's remaining arm a blurred flurry of motion, and all the while dodging and sidestepping several of her own blows. More started to crowd her, and several let loose a strange noise.

Clang, Clang, Clang! Thud, thud, thud!

She then felt a slight stinging sensation alight across her shoulder and aura, as one of the ghosts raked at her with a transparent blade. She gritted her teeth, and pushed through the brief flash of pain, doing her best not to cry out.

In the distance, she saw a flash of lightning, and Xanther's voice calling out Ruby's name as they struggled to reach her.

But there were still more coming. She kept moving, she had to keep moving, keep moving, there were rose petals everywhere, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to go…

Suddenly, there came a strange whistling sound through the air, and then a few of the creatures around her stiffened… and collapsed. This allowed Ruby a window to leap away from the rest of her assailants though they started to trail after her. There was just so much mist.

As she leaped and parried and zoomed away amidst rose petals, there came the sound of laughter. It was the sort of laughter that Ruby had heard in superhero movies, and usually done by the villain. A long whip of fire, like Xanther's from earlier but… different, burst into view, and wrapped itself around the torso of one of the pursuing creatures, reducing it to ashes in an instant as the whip tightened. A moment later, a figure dashed past Ruby and into view, accompanied by another peal of demented laughter.

The owner of the fiery whip, and thus the source of the laughter, soon pranced into view out of the mists and into Ruby's line of sight. He, for he was a human man, was… a sight, to say the least.

The man had a short-yet-wild shock of black-and-red-streaked hair and rather ruddy skin, as far as Ruby could tell. He seemed to be taking a page from Sun's book in regards as to how one should wear a shirt; open and displaying everything above the waist as much as possible, though Ruby knew better than to focus on anything like that at the moment.

The man let out another burst of really crazy-sounding laughter as he cracked his fiery whip, thus lashing several more of the creatures, and even ghosts, across their faces and chests, sometimes even eliciting sounds what seemed to be pain. All the while, as he lashed and whipped, he was flinging out thin, glass-like razors from empty air with his other hand, and jump-kicking with his booted feet. The strange razors created the whistling noise as they zoomed through the air. All the while, the guy's polychromatic eyes were wide with a joy that Ruby did not really want to think too hard on at the moment.

"Aye, perchance, perchance!" he declared as he leaped and dodged and kicked and rolled and twirled. "Oh, but 'tis nobler in the mind than in the dread space twixt heart and loin, to mewl and whine and die in the dust until life and death doth conjoin! For chance we stand upon life's stage, wishing and imitating for any bygone age! So, as I doth prance and make merry perchance, I bid you all to dance, you shitheads, DANCE! HAHAHAHAHA!"

As he laughed and lashed and flung his knives about, the fighting had started to grow more and more heated all about, much of it punctuated by Vimes's swearing and cussing, and the hiss of his flaming sword through the air. In the distance, the building continued to burn, and the air was slowly filling with an acrid scent.

Ruby kept swinging and cutting and zipping about. Always keep moving.

Always keep moving.

But they kept coming, emerging from the mist and the dilapidated buildings. Was there no end?

Through it all, Triel kept chanting, the glow of her spear growing brighter and brighter. But there were too many. Too many.

Meanwhile, the cut on her shoulder kept stinging.

Then… something massive barreled through the mist, all but crushing several of the creatures into a paste. Ruby caught a brief glimpse of a large ax as it flashed out, accompanied by two strange, almost echoey voices.

"GET BUGGERED AND DIE!"

"DOWN YOU FALL!"

The way was cleared for a minute and punctuated by more of the fire-whip guy's laughter. Crescent Rose kept flashing and spinning, and Ruby distantly heard Mumblechance's yowls.

Too many. Too many. But she had to keep moving. Keep moving, keep...

Clang, clang clang, and she parried and cut and dodged around several more knife blows, and even sword cuts from a few ghosts, and yet she was still being pursued.

Several more were fried by Xanther's lighting, or smashed and cut down by Vimes, Anastasia, and Mumblechance, or whipped to ashes by the laughing lunatic… or trod down by whatever the huge thing was that rumbling through the mists.

Meanwhile, Ruby saw Triel parry a blow with the haft of her spear, even as she kept chanting and murmuring under her breath.

There were still too many. Too many, too many.

As Ruby kept moving and blocking and cutting and was becoming more and more covered in the strange guts and gunk and innards of the creatures, she suddenly felt a pulse of… of power thrumming through the air. Several of the creatures then stiffened and… collapsed. They collapsed into pieces, as portions of their strange flesh and limps began to… rot off. Putrefy, even.

Then, Ruby smelled something else; it smelled like… compost, and rot, like back on the farm on Patch. There was also what seemed like the scent of fresh spring dew and flowers.

The mist started to dissipate, and a second pulse of power suffused the air; deep and expansive, like an ocean, and yet rich and vibrant, like that of a forest.

The rot and the water, they were soon joined by a third one; ancient and kindly like an old towering tree surrounded by flowers, and bright as morning daylight upon the skin.

"Ah-ha-ha!" came a familiar laugh, punctuated by another burst of power that accompanied the rot.

From the receding mist strode a familiar rotting figure; it was that Jakorai guy! The one who had given her that apple. And, he was not alone. Two others were approaching with him, two female elves from what she could tell, judging by their ears. All three were each carrying a staff, and each was ablaze with green mana from what she could tell, coupled with black, blue, and white

Triel finally finished chanting and raised up her spear in both hands. "BY ARTICLE XIII OF THE CODEX INFINATUM, I HEREBY ORDER YOU CEASE AND DESIST THIS UNLAWFUL REANIMATION AND ATTACK!"

With that, the Azorius officer slammed the butt of her spear into the ground, and a massive pulse of blue-and-white energy spread out from the spear's head. Every one of the ghosts it touched was wreathed in the energy and sent hurtling back and away, while the twitchers were sent staggering, leaving them open to be cut down by Vimes, Mumblechance, Ruby, the laughing guy with the flame whip, and the big thing running through the mists, or they were destroyed by the spells of Xanther, Anastasia, Jakorai, and the Golgari's two companions.

The battle was finished then in a matter of minutes.

It was only then that Ruby noted that every creature cut down either disintegrated, or simply dissipated and vanished into thin air.

Everything fell quiet, and Ruby slowly wiped at the goopy blood and viscera that had drenched her, and most of the others, during the battle.

Well… it was over at least, right?

A moment later, Ruby felt herself getting all but tackled by Rat, the little girl uncaring of the goop and whatnot that was covering her as she hugged Ruby tight around the waist.

"That. Was. Awesome!" the little girl squeaked. "You were just zooming, and Xanther was like 'lightning hands,' and the meanine vimes went all 'flame-sword and fire shield,' and the Ana lady and Mumblechance were all 'Spells! Spells! Lantern to the face and more spells,' and then Ruric was all stamping through, and then the Golgari guy and the elf ladies were so cool too and it was also a little scary, but I just happy you're okay! Are you okay?"

Ruby was still impressed by how fast the little girl could talk/ babble, but she hugged her back nonetheless. "I'm… I'm fine, Rat. Just fine. Are you hurt?"

At the tap-tapping sound of a staff on the ground, Ruby and Rat looked up to see a familiar rotting visage approaching them.

As he walked towards them, Jakorai gave them both a rotting grin. "Ah, it is leetle Silver-Eyed girl. We meet once again. Is good, ah-ha-ha. Is good, is good. Lucky for you that I and my friends were here to help you and your leetle companions, eh? Ah-ha-ha."

He then looked to Rat, who, to her credit, only slightly recoiled at him. If he noticed, he gave no indication of it though. Instead, he knelt in a sound of creaks, and extended a hand. "Ah, hello there. I am Jakorai. Is pleasure to make acquaintance. What is your name, leetle girl?"

Rat shook his hand without hesitation, and gave him a big smile. "The name's Rat, mister. It's actually Araithia, but everyone calls me Rat. How do you know Ruby?"

"Ah, is good fine name. Is good name indeed. And Ruby is name of silver-eyed girl. Ah, is good, is good, ah-ha-ha. Is good. Nice to have name to face now, ah-ha-ha. Is good to see you again, Ruby with the Silver Eyes. Is Good."

"It's… good to see you again, Jakorai," Ruby said.

As he rose back up, Jakorai put a hand to his chest, as if overcome. "Ah, she remembers Jakorai's name. Ah, is good, is good. Come, come, but we must all make chit-chat. Much to discuss, much to discuss, I think, and friends to introduce. Why are you here, in this not-so-happy place, eh?"

Ruby started to shrug, and then winced in pain, the cut on her shoulder flaring up.

Jakorai's moldy-and-mushroomy face grew concerned. "Ah, one of those horrid ghost-things, they have made a wound on you. Is no good, is no good. But, fear not, for friend Emmara is quite good with making wounds into not-wounds, ah-ha-ha."

Nearby, the blonde elf-woman perked up at the utterance of her name, and she approached. She had long blonde hair, and was clad in green-and-white leathers and robes, as green as her eyes, and all decorated with a filigree of leaves, vines, and trees, while her arms were sheathed in fingerless, elbow-length gloves. In her right hand, she carried a tall staff topped with the tree-and-sunburst symbol of the Selesnya Conclave, her expression was warm and kindly, if not overly so.

With a keen gaze, she looked over Ruby and Rat's bumps and scrapes. She paid special attention to the cut on Ruby's shoulder from the ghost. "Be still a moment," she said, and she nestled her staff in the crook of her neck. "This won't take but a moment."

She reached out her hands towards them. Then, the elf furrowed her brow in concentration as a green glow emanated from her empty hands and spread over Ruby and Rat. To Ruby, it felt… comforting. Soothing, even, like a nice breeze on a hot and muggy day. A moment later, Ruby felt the cut on her shoulder begin to close up. Soon enough, it had vanished but for a small scar. The same went for the scrapes on Rat's arms.

The elf-woman gave Ruby and Rat a small smile once it was over. "There we are. Good as new. Feel better?"

She did actually. "Thank you," Ruby said.

"Yup! Good as new!" Rat declared while flexing her tiny arms and giving out a huge grin.

That drew another grin and laugh from Jakorai. "Ah-ha-ha. Is good, is good. All bumps and bruises now gone."

The elf woman rolled her eyes at his laugh but smiled good-naturedly. She patted Ruby on the shoulder, Rat on the head, and then headed over to everyone else. "Let us see who else needs some help, shall we?"

"Yes, yes, that is good. Ah-ha-ha."

As Rat started humming to herself and began doing some weird, nonsensical stretching, Ruby eyed her new scar for a moment, all the while flexing and rotating her arm. Yeah; it really did feel as good as new.

Then she looked up to see Xanther slowly making their way towards her. Thye looked… tired, to say the least.

"Xanther!" Rat exclaimed as she proceeded to hug them tightly. They winced at the contact but returned the hug with one arm nonetheless. "Hello, Rat."

"Are you okay, Xanther?" Ruby asked her friend.

They nodded. "Fine. Just a little worn out is all. That… that was a close call. Though I think (agh) I busted my arm."

Ruby could see they were cradling their arm to their chest tenderly. "For sure. Hey, maybe you should go to that Emmara woman. She seems like a good healer."

Xanther seemed unsure at that suggestion, looking at the Selesnyan woman with narrowed eyes for a moment. Then, they sighed and shrugged. "I guess it couldn't hurt to ask the tree-hugger."

That made Rat laugh.

"Before you do, perhaps I might take a look at your arm?"

Ruby, Xanther, and Rat all turned to see that the voice belonged to the other figure who had accompanied Jakorai. Like Emmara, she was an elf, though they seemed as different as night and day. In place of Emmara's long blond locks, this one had short-cut brown hair and long, glowing lines that ran up and down and across her cheeks and forehead. They were glowing the same as… as her arms, the bottom of the hem of her blue-and-green robes, and the mantle around her neck. The mantle reminded Ruby of a fish's fins, somewhat. She smelled like water, and the symbol of the Simic Combine was threaded proudly on the front of her robes.

Her eyes, meanwhile, were very pale blue, almost startingly so, in fact.

"My name is Vannifar," the Simic lady said. "May I see your arm?" she asked Xanther.

Unconsciously, Xanther, Rat, and Ruby all recoiled slightly, and the woman sighed. "I'm not going to bite you if that's what you're afraid of."

"Uh… I wasn't thinking that, but knowing you Simic types… is that an unreasonable fear?" Xanther asked as they drew their arm to their chest.

Vannifar rolled her eyes. "Don't be a baby, izzet. Just let me see your arm."

Very, very hesitantly, and with a look to Ruby, Xanther extended their arm towards the elf, hissing and flinching slightly as they did so.

Vannifar held the arm gently in one hand and began to softly poke and prod at it with her other. Judging by Xanther's expression… her hands must have felt weird.

Then, Vannifar nodded, as if understanding something and-

Crac-click.

"AGGH! MIZZET'S WINGS, WHAT THE FUCK!?" Xanther exclaimed as they yanked their arm out of Vannifar's grasp.

"It was dislocated. If Emmara had healed it as is, it would have healed wrong. I just fixed it. You're welcome," Vannifar stated.

"And you couldn't have given me a damned warning!?"

"No. Surprise often works best when popping dislocated limbs back into place. Now you can go see her to fix all the rest of your bumps and scrapes. That is all."

With that, she then walked away, and still making no footsteps… somehow.

Xanther made as if to lunge after her, only to be stopped by Ruby. Ruby then pointed her friend to Emmara, who was currently examining Triel.

Xanther glared at Vannifar's back for a moment, and then sighed, and started walking over to the Selesnyan healer, all the while grumbling under their breath.

The sound of clapping hands drew Ruby and Rat's attention to the left.

The man with the open shirt let loose another bout of wild laughter as he approached them, clapping all the while. Now that she wasn't in a fight for her life, Ruby's eyes could easily take in more details about him. He had two rings piercing his lower lip, like metal fangs. Meanwhile, the open shirt showed off a lean and well-muscled torso and a multitude of tattoos of various shapes and things, all colored red and black, as if in tandem with his motley clothes, and the two red-and-black teardrops. The chest tattoos were all centered around a brand over his heart, one that was wrought in the shape of the leering demon-face symbol of the Rakdos guild.

On closer examination, he seemed at most five years older than her.

He looked at her with polychromatic eyes; the left a startling red-brown, and the right an almost manic blue. He smiled at her, ivory, wide and rather off-kilter, with black-painted lips. "This has all been most entertaining!" he declared with a bombastic gusto. "Most entertaining, my good friends. Ah-h-h, but such inspiration that I have gleaned from this little dance I happened to walk in on, oh indeed I have."

He danced a little jig and flung his arms out wide with another laugh as he gestured towards Ruby. "It comes to me now, quick as a flash, like a fucking arrow to the neck. Picture it, if you would; something subtle, and yet awash in the pure and driven light of heavy-handed metaphor and allegory within every stanza and verse! And in the center of it all, a dazzling little Izzet girl with a scythe crafted from pure speed and death, like a butterfly's kiss! Oh, jubilant moment, how this wonder doth lay giddy happiness upon mine own brow. Thank you, thank you! Oh, sweet jubilation!"

Ruby gave him a weak smile, all the while slowly backing away. He was kind of creepy.

He noticed her backing away and simply smiled and bowed. "Ah, but my manners have briefly fled my mind! For that I shall endeavor to make good recompense. I am-"

"Raishy!" Rat exclaimed as she promptly tackled him with a tight hug around his waist.

Ruby… really did not want the image of Rat hugging a Rakdos man emblazoned in her head. And yet, it was, and ever would be.

The man laughed, returned the hug with surprising tenderness, and then lifted the little girl up before proceeding to exaggeratingly peer at her. "Little Rat! Ha-ha! Is that you truly you? Rakdos's horns, but you've gotten so big since last we made happy discourse! Is this where you've run off to, you little scamp? Hekara's been concerned, and, I will admit, the lack of your recent presences at the carnivals has put a damper on mine own spirits somewhat, a damper now completely relieved upon seeing your person safe and sound with my eyes."

Rat giggled and hugged him around his neck. "Aw, thanks. But I'm fine. Honest. This is Ruby, she's really cool. She's a member of the Izzet League, and she's super aweomse, and she can go so really fast and it's awesome! And that's Xanther, her other friend, they're also an Izzet, and they're really cool too, though sometimes they seem a bit grouchy and don't talk all the much at times, but they're cool! And they can see me, like you and Hek and Boruvo and mommy. The boros and azorius and the orzhov people can see me too, so yeah, that kind of sucks, but still! People can see me, Raishy, it's awesome! So can Mumblechance! I like it so much, it's just so neat!"

'Raishy' gave the little girl another grin and a gentle hug before gently putting her down. He then made a deep and rather dramatic bow towards Ruby, before rapidly shaking her hand in what she assumed was gratitude. His wide grin and eyes made it really difficult to tell. "A delightful pleasure to make the acquaintance of any who can look past little Rat's peculiarity, for this little one could always use more friends. My name is Horatio, and I am but a humble performer upon life's grand stage under the grand auspices of Rakdos. But, my friends and contemporaries call my 'Ratiy,' pronounced 'Raishy.' Happy to meet you. Indeed, I am oh so very delighted."

"Uh yeah. Nice to… meet you too," Ruby replied.

The ground then started to lightly shake in time to the sound of very large footsteps.

"Never seen those kind of things before," came a rumbling voice, as the footsteps drew closer through the few, dissipating remnants of the mist.

"What, the ghosts? You've seen ghosts before. They hang around those orzhov assholes," replied a second, equally rumbling voice.

"Not that, you empty-headed slag of a buffoon. I meant the weird twitching things. Y'know, the ones with no faces making those creepy noise-sounds and who tried stabbing us with those annoying knives."

"Oh. Yeah, those. They were some weird little fuckers, for sure. Still, they squash like all the rest, I suppose. Heh-heh, squish-squish."

"Indeed. Now, let's see who else was fighting the buggers. It would be rude to not make ourselves known."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

As the huge mass came to a stop, Ruby looked up… and up… at a very large, and very muscular ogre. He was smaller than a giant… but not by much.

Ruby could honestly admit that she had never seen so much muscle on one person before… nor had she ever seen anything that had two heads before that was not a king taijitu grimm.

And yet… the ogre had two heads, each set upon a rather thick neck, and he also had… tusks. He had tusks like a boar. In addition to that, the ogre also had a lot of green tattoos snaking all across his arms and torso and faces and necks.

He was also only wearing a weird loin-cloth-and-kilt combination that terminated a little below his knees, showing his legs and bare feet. There were… a good number of… skulls hanging from his belt. The only other article of clothing he had on was a large metal pauldron over his right shoulder, and a vambrace on his left forearm. Meanwhile, his right hand… terminated in a cloth-wrapped stump, and tied to that was a rather large ax, and that was smeared with drying goop from the creatures.

More than that… he smelled. He smelled bad.

She took all this in, but she said nothing. Instead, she just looked up at… him? Them?

The right head blinked as both looked down at Ruby. "Hi,' the right head said. "Hello," the left one then said.

Ruby blinked owlishly and then replied. "Uh… hi? Thanks for… helping earlier.

"Eh, it was a good scrap."

"It was of no trouble. This seemed like a most enjoyable little romp."

…

…

Right.

Ruby then cleared her throat. "So, um…Who are you?"

"He's Thar," said the right with a gesture to the left. "And he's about as dumb as a bag of really dumb rocks."

"And this slab of an ugly lug is Ruric, and he gets his lack of good looks from our pa's side," said the left with a gesture to the right. "That, and his lack of any proper eloquence in his vocabulary."

"Oooooh. Using big words now, are we?" Ruric mocked.

"More than you've ever done, you pathetic little slaggard of a skab," Thar shot back.

As the… pair(?) kept bickering, Ruby took the opportunity to step away for a moment from, well, everyone, rubbing at her temples as she did so. She was covered in strange viscera, she had a new scar, and she could feel a headache coming on, which was weird since she usually… never got headaches.

Also, everything seemed a bit too… bright and…

Suddenly, she felt a tight vice grip her shoulder and spin her around. It was one of the twitching creatures and it grabbed her neck and there was a dagger in its other hand and it was all happening so fast and she needed to get away and-

As the creature raised its dagger high, there came a loud SQUELCH and the thing suddenly stopped as a thin hole opened up in the center of what was presumably its forehead. It stayed perfectly still as a statue for a moment as blood rand down its smooth featureless face, long enough for Ruby to free herself from its grasp and leap back. A moment later, it collapsed to the side with a wet mixture between a THUD and a SPLAT.

As the thing fell to the ground and the body disappeared/ dissipated/ folded in on itself, a figure appeared, seemingly out of thin air, next to where the creature had stood, and holding a long, thin, and bloody knife, held in a reverse grip.

The figure, male, was somewhat tall, and his figure seemed to be a strange and seamless mixture of lean, thin, and willowy all at once. He was wrapped and garbed in form-fitting black leathers and several buckles and sheathed daggers. He had long, shoulder-length black hair that hung freely, along with really, really pale skin and very black-and-blue eyes.

He had not even looked when he had plunged that dagger into the thing's head.

He then turned and looked down at her with those very black-and-blue eyes, not breaking eye contact as he casually wiped the blood on his blade clean with a small piece of cloth, and sheathed it at his side without even a hiss. "You are welcome for my intervention," he said, in a voice that was at once smooth and slightly deep. It sent a chill down Ruby's back.

Ruby blinked back. "Uh… thank you, I guess?"

"Indeed."

…

…

…

"So, uh… who are you?" Ruby then asked her savior, following that uncomfortable pause.

The pale man looked at her, and then gave a nod of greeting. "You can call me Mysl. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ruby."

Ruby blinked. "Uh… thanks. It's… nice to meet you too?"

Also, how did he know her name!?

"Indeed."

He then took a step towards her… only to meet a drawn sword at his neck, held by Vimes, who came up from the side.

"What are you doing!?" Ruby exclaimed, her eyes going wide.

"This bastard's a Dimiri," Vimes growled. "I recognize their type. How long have you been bloody following us here, sneak-thief?"

The pale man blinked, seemingly unconcerned with the blade resting right against his neck. "I've been following the girl and her two companions ever since they entered the 1st Precinct."

That caught Ruby's attention. "You were… following us?"

The pale man turned his gaze back towards her. "Yes, I was. However, I can assure you of this; I bear no intent to harm you, your companions, or anyone else here."

He then looked back at Vimes. "Even if they insist on putting a sword to my neck."

The rest of the group noticed the commotion, and drew in. Ruby took note of their faces; some held trepidation, like Emmara, Xanther, Triel, and even Rat. Others held interest, like Vannifar, Jakorai, and Horatio. Anastasia and Mumblechance looked bored, though the thrull stood in front of his mistress protectively nonetheless. Ruric and That looked either bored or ready to hit something.

"You think any of us believe that?" Vimes spat, sword still against Mysl's neck. "How can any of us know that you're not lying through your bloody teeth?"

The pale man shrugged nonchalantly. "In the spirit of honesty, I will concede that you don't, and that you can't," he said. "But, do consider this; If I had wanted to kill any of you, I would have already done so whilst I was still invisible. Yet instead… here I stand, quite visible to the naked eye. Indeed, I most certainly would not have unveiled myself as I have just done. I could have just let the girl die, or maybe she would have survived, I would have kept following you, and then killed you all in your sleep, since that seems to be what you consider all Dimir wont to do. But I didn't, and here I stand. Now please… put away your sword, sergeant. Besides, I am quite surrounded by such a powerful host of characters here, and from all the other guilds no less. What could I do possibly do, but advocate for peace?"

Vimes grit his teeth. Triel then tugged on his cloak, some color having returned to her blue cheeks. "S-s-sir, u-un-und-d-der Article IV, Section III, Subsection IX, paragraph I and line V of the Azorius, Boros, Selesnya and Orzhov Inter-Guildular Cooperation chapter of the Codex Infinatum; at-t-tacking a pedestrian or guild member without p-p-proper weight of evidence or due suspicion goes ag-g-gainst the agreed up-p-pon terms of the aforementioned Article."

"You all know as well as I do what damage these Dimiri bastards can do," Vimes snarled, as he yanked his cloak away from his partner's grasp. "He's too dangerous."

"Agreed," said Emmara, as she gripped her staff tightly. "He's up to something. They always are."

"And the Selesnyans are always so benevolent as to judge like that?" Mysl asked, making Emmara's eyes narrow in annoyance.

Horatio laughed. "I like him. I vote we make him dance a jig… or maybe a little ditty I once saw being performed in District Three by an elf with lumbago. Then we let him on his merry way… or we kill him."

Ruby did not want anyone to kill anyone

But before she could speak up…

"Whatever," Ruric rumbled. "I vote we smash him to paste. That's the best way to make a Dimiri honest."

"That seems a bit impulsive," Thar interjected. "Perhaps we should adopt a modicum of self-restraint at this moment?"

"Wow, more big words, huh? Tryin' to make mommy proud?"

"I would retort with a thing about papa, but I'm not sure he was even yours, to begin with."

While the two bickered, Anastasia started writing in her book. "I agree with Thar," she said, whilst her quill started to move. "There is no need for idiotic paranoia and stubborn bullheadedness to carry this day. I am referring to you, by the way, Samuel."

"Bugger off, Ana," Vimes spat.

"Not at the moment," she retorted. "Too busy, as well you know."

"I agree with Ana the coin-lady," Jakorai said. "I say we give good Mysl here a fair chance. Who are any of us fine fellows to judge, eh? Ah-ha-ha."

"He looks creepy," Rat said. "I say we smash him like mommy would!"

Despite that, she let loose a small eep when Mysl glanced her way.

"You can't trust Dimir," Xanther said plainly. "After what their parun tried to do. Sneaky bastards."

Vannifar said nothing and simply looked at Mysl as one would a specimen under a microscope.

Everyone was talking and bickering all at once, and it looked like another fight was about to erupt, and Ruby could feel a tension rising behind her eyes and it was feeling like the start of a migraine, and the smell of the burning buildings in the distance was really not helping and it had been a long few days and they had just been in a fight for their life and-

"Okay, everyone just HOLD ON A FREAKING MINUTE!" Ruby suddenly exclaimed.

Everyone went quiet, and they all turned towards her, even Rat.

Shaking off the small bit of stage-fright she was feeling just now. Ruby took a deep breath. "First off; No one is killing anyone, especially people who saved other people's lives, okay!? Second; how about, before we get at each other's throats over idiocy and inter-guildular jealousies and suspicions and other dumb stuff, we all go and find someplace a little safer to talk? At least, someplace a whole lot safer than in the middle of a street where we were just fighting for our lives not three minutes ago, in a place that used to be, and apparently still is, FILLED WITH FREAKING GHOSTS!? OKAY!?"

Everything went quiet in the wake of her outburst, and some of the others looked away like chastised children, namely Xanther, Triel, Rat, and even the towering Ruric Thar (both of them). Meanwhile, Vimes scowled (though he sheathed his blade), Jakorai, Emmara, and Vannifar said nothing, Anastasia jotted something down in her book, and Mysl simply… looked at her, unperturbed by the fact that several other people had been debating whether to kill him or not.

Mumblechance simply nodded in silent agreement, as if glad to not have to be the only reasonable one at that moment.

In contrast to all of that, Horatio threw back his head and laughed. "Such passion! I like it! I like this girl!"

In the distance, yet another building had caught on fire. Then, one of them suddenly collapsed with a groan and a massive clamor of wood and stone. The ground shook as it fell, making Ruby jump in surprise.

In the wake of that, Jakorai stroked his chin for a moment and then smiled his rotting grin. "Come come, then. I take you all to the garden. There, we can make good chit-chat. Though, friend Vannifar, if you would…"

Vannifar nodded and waved her hand, as a green-and-blue glow covered it. Overhead, there came large rainclouds, and it started to rain, and quite heavily at that, drenching everyone and everything almost instantly, including the burning buildings.

Jakorai laughed again, with Horatio and even Rat joining in, the little girl dancing in the rain. Ruby was just feeling very non-plussed at the moment, crossing her soaked arms and tapping her foot.

After a few minutes, Vannifar, perhaps uncaring of what she had just done, made another gesture with her green-and-blue-glowing hand, and the downpour stopped, and the fire was out.

Ruby swore she could hear Vimes grinding his teeth, while Xanther's eye was twitching. Meanwhile, Anastasia was… she was untouched, due to Mumblechance having pulled out a large umbrella for her almost instantly.

Ruruc Thar grumbled, and Mysl looked… unfazed.

Then, Jakorai beckoned, flinging droplets off his rotting skin. "Apologies, but fire must never be left unattended. Is no good. But, now, all is good and wet, eh? Ah-ha-ha. Still, come, come we can all get dry in the garden. Come, come, we go to the garden. Is safe place, this Jakorai promises…."

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Jaune

The Wilds of Eldraine

…

…

…

He woke up, and as bright light filtered into his now-squinting eyes, he came to the realization that he was lying mostly flat on his back.

More specifically… he was lying on his back on a cot. A cot, the sort of thing that armies took with them on campaigns, or that were in barracks. It was crafted of thin material, wood, and it was the softest, most comfortable thing Jaune had slept in yet. Also…yep, that was a pillow behind his head… and those were sheets he was tangled in.

Huh. He had really missed pillows… and blankets.

So soft.

Jaune blinked and let lose a slight groan as he brought himself more into wakefulness. He felt sore… sore all over, but that wasn't unusual at this point. Also, yeah… could still barely feel his left arm.

It was… weird that he was getting used to that.

With another groan, he slowly rose to a sitting position, doing his best to disentangle himself from the blankets and sheets. They were pretty soft, so that was nice.

As he rose, and slowly swung his feet over the side, Jaune yawned, blinked, and took stock of his surroundings. To his surprise, he was in… a large tent, the fabric walls colored a soft green. The interior was complete with a mirror, a good-sized brass tub, a table, a chair, and the cot. Next to the mirror was a full bucket of water.

As he became more and more awake, he realized there was a… a taste in his mouth. A bit salty, like… like mom's chicken soup. He also felt thirsty… and also felt like he had to use the bathroom.

He felt his gaze pulled over to the full bucket.

Slowly, he trudged over to it and the mirror, and looked at the bucket's contents. It smelled like water and certainly looked like water. He still felt a bit hesitant but at the same time… his mouth and throat felt really freaking dry.

Screw it.

With that, Jaune rolled up his ragged sleeves, wiped his hands off as best he could and then plunged them in. He could not even really feel the sensation of the water on his left hand and arm, just a vague… presence. Jaune then cupped his hands and brought up a mouthful of water to his lips. The water, it tasted just cool and delicious on his throat. He took in several more mouthfuls. Once his throat no longer felt dry, he splashed his face and looked up into the mirror. He recoiled at the sight before him in surprise. But how could he not? He looked… it was as if there was a stranger, looking back at him from the mirror.

Almost hesitantly, he reached up to touch the mirror. Was… was this really him? Was this what he looked like now? The last time he had looked at himself in the mirror, he had definitely not had any scars or faded bruises on his face, for one. That and…. Huh.

Almost in disbelief, Jaune raised his left hand and gently rubbed his hand along his chin. Yep… that was a small beard, halfway, all along the lower half of his face, and over his lips.

Weird. His dad had a beard and his grandpa had had one, but… Jaune had never truly pictured himself with one. Olive and Ebony used to always say he had something of a smooth little baby face.

… "Smooth as a bottom. Smooth as a bottom," Olive and Ebony chanted as they laughed, and he had to laugh as well. Though, that only made them chant more…

… "You're not a proper knight unless you have a fine beard upon your chin," Edgar said to him with a laugh. "They make you look older, more dignified, and more distinguished."

"Surely you jest."

"I swear by the Cauldron and the five virtues," Edgar said, one hand over his heart, and the other raised up. "That is a well-known fact, especially when it comes to attracting fair and winsome eyes of fair and winsome figures…"

… She ran her manicured hand across his face, across his chin, and smiled, with teeth more white and more perfect than ivory. "You are so very handsome," she whispered, as she leaned forward. She smelled of dusk lilacs, and the chain in her nose gleamed as their lips met…

… The last thing he felt was the memory of her taste on his lips, as the fireball consumed him…

Jaune blinked, as the sound of the running water brought him back from… whatever that had been. He let loose a breath he had no memory of holding.

Aside from the beard, he noted that his hair was a good bit longer and ragged, enough to tie back in a short tail, perhaps. It was also a bit discoursed, though that might have just been from all the grime. In addition, his face looked a bit thinner… and dirtier. There was also a faded bruise around his eye, and his eyes themselves were a bit bloodshot. Also, their color seemed a bit… off, though that may have been the bloodshot bits.

In short, he looked a mess. He also… yeah, he also didn't smell all the great either.

As he looked towards the brass tub, the sound of footsteps drew his attention away towards the tent's entrance. What entered was a female dwarf; squat and as powerfully muscled as her kind's male counterpoints. Jaune took note of her chainmail, and the large warhammer slung through her belt.

She looked him over, and shook her head, her long braids whipping around slightly at the motion. "Forge's flames, but you're a right-ragged sight, aren't ya?"

She then made a gesture indicating him to follow. "C'mon then. There's footing waiting at the campfire. The others want to give you their thanks, for that business."

At the mention of food, Jaune's stomach let loose a very audible rumble, enough to be almost embarrassing.

But a thought then came to his awakened mind, and one that swiftly crystalized into a concern. "There was a unicorn with me," he rasped. "Where's Gringolet?"

The dwarf nodded at that. "Yer noble steed is currently munching on a feed bag of some fine and tasty oats. It's fine. Now, let's get you some food, afore you collapse again. Gave that little flitterbug Thumbletack quite a fright, it did."

Seeing as he did not really have any other options, Jaune followed her, while his stomach gave another massive growl.

They emerged into daylight, and Jaune's eyes soon became welcomed by the sight of a busy campsite, full of tents and dwarves and elves, and several flittering fae and faeries.

He decided not to think too hard about how he knew what they were called.

In the center of the camp was a large fire, over which was a large spit. What looked like rabbit and quail and boar were spitted upon, slowly being rotated over the flames. It smelled so good.

One of the dwarves by the fire looked up, and Jaune recognized him as the one called Torbran. The dwarf's bearded face split into a wide grin. "Look who's here! The spider-slayer hisself! Have a seat lad. Just rest a moment, and let me get ya something."

A bit hesitantly, Jaune sat down next while the dwarf amble over to a large table. The food just smelled so good. By the flames, he saw Gringolet, contently munching in a feedbag. The unicorn gave him a nod as it ate. He also saw the large foxes that had saddles on their backs lounging contently by the fire as well.

So… that was apparently a thing here.

Huh.

A moment later, Torbran returned, and he had a plate of food in hand. "'Ere," he said, as he handed it to Jaune. "Eat yer fill. Judging by the state of you, I think ye bloody well-earned it, to say the least. Yer practically skin and bones, lad."

With almost shaking hands, Jaune took the plate of food, his stomach now rumbling even louder. A moment later, he all but started shoveling the food, roast meat, and bread, into his mouth, doing his best not to choke as he chewed and swallowed. It all…

He could feel tears in his eyes as his taste buds lit up. It all just tasted so. GOOD!

He kept crying as he ate, his tears sometimes mixing with his food, but he didn't care about that. How long had it been since he had last eaten good, hot food like this? He ate, and kept crying with each bite of food that passed his lips.

He felt a heavy hand lightly pat him on the shoulder. "There, there, lad. Yer alright now. Yer alright."

When he had scarfed the plate clean, he wordlessly held it out for seconds… and then for thirds.

When at last, he was full, he set down the plate on the grass, and wiped at his teary eyes with the back of his left hand. "Thank you," he said.

The dwarf clapped him gently on the shoulder again, and with a hand that looked as if it could crush stone. "Twas no trouble lad. No trouble at all."

"Yes," came a dry voice. "No trouble giving out some of our valuable rations and supplies to a half-feral stranger who smells as if he hasn't bathed since the day he was born."

The owner of the voice… was an elf. Tall, austere, and clad in leather armor of green and black. He was tapping a tall black staff by his side with a gloved hand.

Torbran waved a dismissive hand at him. "Ah, bugger off Auborun, 'tis causing no harm, feeding the lad. Would ye rather we'd left him ta starve?"

The elf shook his head. "No, but I'm just pointing out an obvious thing, Torbran. You know we need every last scrap of foodstuffs that we can muster. We cannot afford to waste even a single crumb for what we are about to endure."

"Good, just so we understand each other."

The elf then turned his gaze towards Jaune. "But, nevertheless, I do thank you for helping save us from those wretched spiders, human," he said. "Let it not be said that Auborun of Oakhame is an ungrateful sort."

Jaune blinked, and then simply nodded. "No problem," he said. "It was no problem at all. Just… doing what was right."

That earned him an arched eyebrow. "Indeed," and then he said nothing else.

"So," Jaune then said. "What are a bunch of elves and dwarves doing out here in the Wilds?"

At the utterance of the question, the dwarf and elf each exchanged a look, as if mentally debating whether or not to answer him.

"We're on a quest," Torbran then said.

"That is correct," continued Auborun. "And it is a quest of utmost importance. Our company's goal is to put a stop to a most foul and virulent blight that has been infecting these lands."

"Aye, it's a quest o' grand import," Torbran declared. "Now, normally, ah couldn't be all that buggered to lend a hand to wee faeries, tricksy fae, or pointy ears like Auborun here but… situation's bloody dire, so… needs must, ah guess."

"My sentiments exactly," Auborun said.

"And mine!" a squeaky voice said.

All three looked up to see a small faerie alit upon Jaune's shoulder. More specifically, it was the faerie that Jaune had saved, the one who had been crying out for help while trapped in the spider's web. The little figure was dressed in strange, patchwork leathers and armor that seemed scavenged from detritus, leaves, wood, twine, acorn shells, bits of cloth, and other things. A long and pointy-looking needle was slung through his belt like a sword.

He had a large grin on his face and patted Jaune on the cheek. "I wanted to thank you for saving my life, good human. You. Were. STUPENDOUS!"

…

…

…

For someone about six inches in height, his voice could sure be loud.

Unrecognizing Jaune's momentary auditory distress, the faerie kept speaking. "Well, anyway, my Name is Thumbletack Oak-Warren Skydancer Thornquick Chrysanthemum Wurpariumly XIII… but you can call me Thumbletack."

Jaune was definitely going to call him that, and just that. "Uh… nice to meet you. Nice to meet all of you. The name's Jaune. Jaune Arc. And the unicorn I came in with is named Gringolet."

He felt like that needed to be said.

The three ignored that last bit, and took in his introduction.

"Nice to meet you!" said Thumbletack.

"Good strong name there, lad. It's a pleasure," Torbran declared as he shook Jaune's hand heavily.

Auborn simply tapped the side of his staff. "Good to put a name to your ragged face," he stated simply.

Once the introductions were all finished, there came a slight silence. Then, Jaune spoke up again. "Well then… how can I help you combat this blight?" Jaune asked.

That earned him another arched eyebrow. "You wish to join us, human?" Auborun asked.

"Well… yeah, I do. Gotta pay you back for the food somehow, right? Plus, it sounds like you could use all the help you can get."

The elf looked as if he were about to disagree, but closed his mouth, and started tapping the side of his staff again for a moment. "This will be dangerous," he then said. "In addition, there is a good chance you will not be coming back."

That… staggered Jaune a bit, but then he shrugged. "I think I'll manage. And like I said; I have to pay you back. Plus, breaking a curse? Seems like the right thing to do."

Auborun and Torbran exchanged a look, and then the dwarf grinned and shook Jaune's hand firmly once again. Jaune could have sworn he heard something crack. "Ach, well then, welcome aboard, Jaune. Welcome tae the Company!"

"Yeah! Welcome aboard!" Thumbletack declared.

"Yes, I am sure your presence will be… invaluable," Auborun stated.

Then, he wrinkled his face slightly. "But clean yourself up first," the elf said. "You reek more horribly than a giant's leavings. You may use my tent. It was the one you woke up in. I trust you know your way back to it? Just touch the symbol on the side of the rim, and it will fill with water. You will also find soap there as well. Go, please. You will find fresh clothes waiting for you there. Understand?"

He said that in a tone that booked no arguments.

"Yeah, you really smell," Thumbletack said, before flying off. "Pee-yew!"

That was hurtful a bit.. but Jaune admitted that he did stink. "Thanks," he said to Auborun. "I'll get right on that."

"Good. See that you do."

So, with a full belly, Jaune stood up and returned to the green tent.

Once inside, he closed the flap and then, following the elf's instructions, he turned on the tub and then started to divest himself of the garments he had been wearing for… for however long it had been since he had woken up in… wherever the hell it was that he was. As he did, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

He saw his torso and limbs had become like a macabre patchwork of bruises and scars, new and faded alike. He turned and saw the long cut down his back where the elf Jelda has slashed at him. He could also make out the bruises from where he had slammed into, and through, all those tree branches whilst tangling with the spider. Really, his black was a mish-mash of scars and ugly-looking colors. Thankfully, there was only a slight ache, as there was pretty much everywhere else, save for his left arm, which also had a lot more scars and cuts and bruises, including two large ones on his palm and the back of his hand.

And yet, he could hardly feel any of it at all.

…The woman casually dodged his swing and then extended her left hand to catch his sword by the blade. Her other hand, which soon became wreathed in a large claw of obsidian and flame, shot out and gripped his shield arm in its entirety. As the metal began to swiftly heat up and collapse to slag on the floor and over his arm through his aura, Jaune began to hiss in pain. Then with a chuckle, the woman, flexed her fist, twisted and bent….

He shuddered and fought the urge to let loose what little remained in his stomach. Then, another memory hit him.

Swallowing, Jaune turned back to face the mirror fully and…

Yep, there they were, stark against his skin and the other little cuts and bruises he had been accumulating on his front; ten scabbed over grooves in his chest.

With a shaking hand, he reached up to touch one of them…

…that same fire-and-obsidian-wreathed right hand let go of his arm and shot forward to grip him by his chest plate, lifting him clear off the ground as he flailed helplessly. Her claws promptly burrowed through his aura, through the chest plate, and into his flesh. Jaune's screams then increased tenfold.

Meanwhile, the hand that held Crocea Mors tightened, and in a burst of fire and shriek of metal, the blade shattered in two. The top half of the old blade clattered to the floor with an oddly audible clang.

The woman simply smirked as Jaune continued to scream and thrash about in her grip, which was then joined by her free left hand….

He found himself unconsciously rubbing at the scars as he left his memories. They still hurt, and still burned slightly.

His hands shook, and he clenched them into tight fists. With a sigh, he sank into the tub, submerging himself fully. The warm water, it felt nice.

When was the last time he'd had a bath? When was the last time he had had warm water?

There was what looked like soap on the vanity next to the tub, so he was able to scrub himself. It felt so nice.

After a bit, he rose from the tub, toweled off, and headed over to the folded clothes. They consisted of a red shirt with white and blue edging and a pair of dark pants. There were also a pair of brown, sturdy-looking boots and a pair of green socks.

Everything fit… rather nicely, to his surprise. He then buckled and strapped on his patchwork armor, and secured his weapons; his daggers, Crocea Mors, and Benedict's blade.

As he exited, he saw everyone was already in the process of packing. In amazement, he watched some of the druids and wizards pack away their tents and supplies with flicks of their wrists, reducing everything down into neat little packets. It was quite a sight to see, no mistake about it.

Still, seeing as he was now officially part of the company, he did his best to help out. It seemed only right, after all. After a bit, when everything was packed and tucked and strapped away, everyone headed for their mounts and wagons.

Alongside the other horses… and foxes, Gringolet stood waiting, bridled and saddled. The saddle looked to be of decent and serviceable quality, which was fine by Jaune's estimation. No need for there to be any waste of good saddles on someone like him, right? Jaune did also note that there was no bit in the unicorn's mouth and felt happy about that. Grandfather had always derided bits, and spurs as well.

…"We make them carry our sorry behinds all about for hours on end, along with pounds of leather and metal strapped firm across their bellies. Would you want some bastard yanking you around by the mouth, all the while jabbing your sides with bits of sharp metal, on top of riding you all across the land with all that? Horses, like any animal, deserve any kindness they can get, and it's up to us to provide that kindness to them as best we can..."

Suffice to say, the Arc homestead had always a bitless and spurless place as far as its horses were concerned, and proudly at that. Besides, after being shown pictures of the damage pits and spurs could do? Jaune could not rightly say that it was a big loss.

"How are you?" he asked the unicorn, as he softly patted Gringolet's neck, eyeing the saddle and tack and bridle as best he could.

"I am well, and with a belly full of good oats and water. But, beyond that, I am better now that you are awake and healthy as well."

"Yeah, well, nothing a good hot meal and a bath can't fix, I guess."

He then glanced around at the activity about them. "Well, time to get moving. You ready for this?"

"I am. Best not to dawdle though."

"Fair enough."

With a motion that he had not practiced in almost a year, Jaune put a foot in the stirrup, and swung himself up to sit in the saddle. It felt almost… right, for some reason. Almost like he had never stopped. He automatically flicked the reins, and followed the rest of the departed into the forest. While the dwarves and elves rode their horses and foxes, the fae hitched rides on the wagons, and the faeries all flitted about overhead and around

"You seem almost a natural at this, Syr Jaune," Gringolet said, as the company trotted along.

Jaune shook his head. "I wouldn't go that far. I mean, I grew up on a farm estate. Lot of horses there, and plenty of open space, so I learned to ride from an early age. My sister Amber, though? She's a born natural at it. Always could outpace me easily enough…"

… "Poor Jaune. You're facing the wrong way, dummy!"

... "What kind of dumb name is 'Gringolet,' anyway?"

… 'You really aren't all that good at his, are you?"

… While he struggled, and failed, to pull himself out of the mud, and Gringolet whickered softly, Amber and Joy galloped on ahead, all the while Amber's laughter was ringing on the wind and in his ears…

Jaune slowly exhaled, his hands gripping the reins tightly. "I've never… never been all that good at it, truth be told."

"On that, I heartily beg to differ. You sit upon my back as if you were born to ride any sort of noble steed," Gringolet argued. "Or, at the very least, as if you spent a great deal of time practicing. Though, I am thankful you have no spurs. I've always found those to be most unpleasant."

Jaune chuckled awkwardly at that. "Yeah. I wouldn't do that to you. Promise."

"Nuada never used them either, and so I am quite grateful."

Jaune then felt a weight alight upon his shoulder, and saw that it was Thumbletack. "I agree with Gringy here. You look like a good rider. It's really cool."

"Uh… thanks, but… why are you riding on my shoulder?"

"Well, you saved my life, silly, and now I feel indebted. Plus, you seem nice, and that is nice, you know?"

Jaune was not sure how to respond to that. Then, somonee else spoke up before he could

"Y'knkow, I've seen many things in my time, laddie," Torbran said as he rode up beside Jaune and Gringolet and Thumbletack. "First I've ever clapped eyes upon a talkin' unicorn, though."

"Indeed, though I must retort that you are perhaps like every other dwarf I've ever seen in my lifetime," Gringolet said.

That elicited a laugh from the dwarf. "And it has some bloody cheek as well. Bwa-ha-ha! I like it."

"I aim to please."

That elicited another laugh from the dwarf, and one from Thumbletack… right up against Jaune's ear, no less.

On Torbran's other side, Auborun rolled his eyes, the motions making the tattoos upon his face move in odd ways. Meanwhile, his giant fox let loose a short yowl, perhaps of agreement?

The conversation petered off.

"So… tell me more about this 'blight' that we're trying to end," Jaune said, as he cleared his throat.

Auborun's long face grew somber and focused. "It is a dark thing, born of curses and pure malice, perhaps. It has been plaguing these lands for countless years, centuries even. Many have tried to destroy it… and all have failed thus far."

Jaune swallowed. That really sounded ominous, to say the least. "If that's the case… then why the heck are we all going towards it?" he asked.

"It was thought that it would remain where it is," the elf answered. "It is not the first curse to live within these lands, and perhaps won't be the last. But unlike all the rest, this one… is of a magnitude more malignant than any before."

"Ay," Torbran chimed in. "And the durned thing is growing."

"Spreading, like a cancerous tumor."

"Its evilness is what's causing things like the spiders," Thumbletack piped up. "That, and other sorts of bad things… like death."

"But… what is it?" Jaune inquired.

"You will see," Auborun said firmly. "We will be arriving at the blight's borders soon enough."

Nothing more was said for the rest of the day, or the night when they made camp. Then, whilst it was still the dark of early morning… they arrived.

The so-called 'border', it was a gate of twisted trees. They were tall, gnarled, crooked, bereft of leaves, and they just looked… wrong, to say the least. It was the same for the other trees that stretched on behind them.

Auborun tapped the side of his staff. "It has expanded more since the scout's last reports," Jaune heard the elf whisper to himself.

Before the company could proceed any further went any further, Torbran and Auborun signaled a halt in front of the gate. The two then turned to face the rest of the company. "Here is where the big decision comes, lads and lasses," Torbran rumbled. "Ye all know what we face here; the minute we enter past tha' glade, we won't be able to leave until tha' curse is lifted."

Or if we die.

"We will be leaving the carts and wagons here," Auborun continued. "They will not be of much use, and… until we break the curse, they will be safer here, undamaged, so that when we return, we can easily travel home. So, some will have to remain behind to guard them and keep them in working condition.

"Know this; volunteering to stay behind does not reflect badly upon you, and any who says otherwise is an utter fool. To have come this far alone speaks volumes of your characters. So those who wish to stay here and guard, do so with all our blessings. And… if we do not make it back, then all we ask is that you remember us, should you choose to leave here and now."

Jaune silently watched as… no one left. After several moments, Torbran nodded grimly. "Much obliged."

Still, several dwarves and elves and fae and faeries were all but made to stay behind, amidst grim and somber farewells. Even the horses and foxes as well, except for Gringolet, at least after much, much argument.

"Where my rider goes, I shall go as well. I will not have it any other way," Gringolet had said.

Seeing as the unicorn would not be budged, Torbran and Auborun had relented. Though

With that, they continued on, and Jaune felt… a chill as they passed under the trees, like going down a one-way street, while the street behind you became cordoned off with every step you took…

Eventually, they passed out of the trees and emerged onto… a field.

The field was massive, and rather placid-looking in appearance. There was an equally large body of water next to it, and both field and body of water stretched out far in either direction. It all looked rather normal… save for the fact that all the grass and foliage was dead and decaying. Plus, there was something in the air… something that reminded him of the spider den.

Thumbletack huddled against Jaune's head and shoulder and whimpered slightly.

Overhead, the sun was starting to shine, and everyone in the company… he saw them grip their weapons tightly as if waiting for something.

But wha-

Then, he heard it. The sounds of rusting armor, weapons being withdrawn from sheathes, and shouts… shouts of battle and rage.

Suddenly, from both sides of the field, they emerged.

Two ghostly armies, all roaring and screaming, accompanied by arrows and spells and spears and cries of rage.

"Here they come, lads!" Torbran shouted as he hefted his ax, and as Auborun raised his staff high in a glow of green.

All Jaune could do was leap from Gringolet's saddle, and unsheathe his blades as he rolled to his feet, and as the armies collided… with the company caught in the middle.

Soon, the air was filled with steel on steel, explosions, blades cutting into flesh, and cries; cries of rage, and cries of death. Death, death, so much death.

"I don't want to die!"

"Why are we fighting?"

"DIE, DIE, DIE!"

It was unlike anything Jaune had experienced, even during the Breach.

But all he could do was fight. Fight, fight and survive. Almost instinctually, Benedict's specter was by his side, ghostly sword flashing and cutting, while Jaune's own blades were a whirlwind of motion. Even Gringolet and the foxes fought. The whole company fought. They all fought on, fighting off the ghosts.

Fighting off death.

This was no battle… it was more like a mutual massacre.

Then, he felt a mace slam into his left arm, sending Crocea Mors tumbling out of his grip. A second later, a ghost tackled him to the ground, screaming and bellowing as she tried to bash in his skull with her flanged mace.

She was a ghost, but she felt solid as any living thing, and so they struggled and rolled on the ground, with Jaune losing his grip on Benedict's blade as well. It culminated with the ghost-woman straddling him and raising her mace high, before bringing it down. Without thinking, Jaune her arm with his left hand. Would she be absorbed as well?

Instead, the moment his left hand gripped the ghost's arm, the ghost blinked, as if waking from a trance. Then, her face grew terrified. "Help us," she cried out as she looked at him. "Help us, please!"

Before he could even register what had just occurred… an arrow took her through the head and she collapsed atop of Jaune.

Quickly, he shoved… the corpse (?) off of him, and shot to his feet, grabbing at his blades as he did so. As he did so… very faintly, he could have sworn he heard a faint splash.

An ax whistling towards his head snapped Jaune back quickly enough, and the sound was forgotten.

He was not sure how much time had passed, as everything was just an endless blur of steel and death, but eventually… things began to wind down. In other words, both armies had almost finished killing each other.

A moment later, it was over, and all members of each army lay dead, massacred at the other's hand.

At least five members of the company lay dead as well, cut down in the wild battle, and many more were wounded.

As he kept his swords at the ready, and the sun rose into late afternoon… jaune then watched in shock and disbelief as all the bodies and debris vanished, save for that of the company's.

The field was empty, clean, and quiet once again.

Jaune slowly sheathed his blades, and just… stood there. Meanwhile, Auborun started to bark out orders. "We have until next morning. Gather our dead, and take what rest you can. We'll make camp here. Get to it!"

Jaune felt Torbran tap him on his arm, making him flinch.

"Ye still standing, lad?" the dwarf asked.

Jaune was tongue-tied for a moment, anad then found his words. "What… what was all that?"

"The blight we were sent to end," Auborun said.

"Aye, that it was," Torbran added. "The ghost of two armies, cursed to ever relive out their final days, killing one another down to a man, over and over and over again without end. Been going on for centuries, and the basted thing… it's spreading."

Jaune swallowed. "Then… why are we camping in the field!? Why not get as far away from it as we can?"

"Because no matter where we go, we will never be in that forest for more than a few minutes," Auborun said. "And we will always end up back within ths field. Unless the curse is lifted… we are trapped here, with those armies, and all who fall here? They are doomed to join those armies, fighting without end."

At that moment, the enormity of it all smashed down upon Jaune's head, and it was a wonder that he didn't collapse at that moment. "Then… what do we do?" he gasped out.

"We break this curse through any means necessary… or die trying."

Nothing more was said then. What else could be said?

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Yang

Sea Gate

Zendikar

According to the address on the slip of paper, the stone quarry was located in the western quadrant of the city. The front building was rather unobtrusive, with the quarry proper stretching out behind it. The building and quarry were run by a somewhat maudlin-looking human man with braided hair. He seemed the type of person who had been born seated behind a desk and with glasses on his nose, and who had never even picked up a pickaxe in his life.

The moment she had clapped eyes on him, Yang had decided that she didn't like him. The fact that he kept a small rock on his desk like those broken at the quarry… yeah, that only made it worse.

He had been annoyingly skeptical when she had asked for a job, but that had been quickly reversed when she had proceeded to crush a rock to dust with her hand.

He had then looked as if he had been trying hard not to piss himself after that, and so had shakingly directed her towards the quarry proper.

It was simple work; break away the stone, and load it onto carts. Simple, repetitive, and straightforward. Plus, she got to punch things. A lot.

No one bothered her while she worked… though she could feel the looks. The stares. She could feel them, and she knew what they were all thinking.

What is a cripple doing here?

She looks like she should be in bed.

She looks too weak to be here.

Weak.

Weak.

Weak.

WEAK!

The day slowly passed, as she fell into something of a rhythm. Smash, lift, deposit, and then repeat. The only break was for a late lunch; a bowl of soup filled with vegetables. It was good though.

Then… as lunch ended, and she stood up to get back to work… a small group of armed guards came to a stop before her. The quarry manager was with them.

"That's her," the quarry manager said, pointing at Yang with a shaking finger. "That's the cripple."

One of the guards strode up to her; a tall, muscular kor, who kept a steady hand on his sheathed ax. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he said.

Yang blinked. "I'm sorry… I don't think I heard you," Yang said through gritted teeth. "Why should I leave? I can work as well as anyone here! Better, even! If anything, you should be prosecuting that little dipshit of a manager who hired me in the first place!

The kor remained impassive. "I apologize but… we can't allow someone so… handicapped to work here. It's not safe," the kor said. "You'll be paid a full day's wages, but you must not return here, or you will be arrested."

Yang felt rage blossom within her. She wanted to punch him, and attack all the rest, everyone who looked at her with such disdainful pity. She wanted to… but then took note of all the workers gathering around.

Her fist shook.

Instead, she spat at their feet. "All of you can go fuck yourselves," she said, before leaving.

After collecting her payment at the front desk (as well as slamming the door so hard that it shattered into splinters), Yang wandered through the streets of Sea Gate, rage dancing at the edge of her mind. The way the foreman and the others had looked at her…

Weak, weak, WEAK.

In an effort to distract herself, she wandered all over; past the tower, the library, and even by the docks, where she sat on the beach for a bit, watching the ocean. Usually, that sort of thing had always helped, back on Patch. But here… she still felt angry, and had the urge to punch and scream.

Though, the growling of her stomach drew her out of her anger for a moment. Well, it was nearing dinnertime, after all.

Maybe some food would help.

She made her way back to the market, and to a stall that served roast and smoked meats and stews and grilled vegetables.

After ordering and paying, she sat down at one of the wooden tables set around the stall. As she sat, her hand brushed her pocket where she had put the scrap of paper.

Wordlessly, she took it out, and looked at the paper, at the second address. She kept looking at it, even as her food was quietly served.

She looked at the scrap of paper on the table as she awkwardly ate her food. It was hard, of course, but she managed nonetheless. The vegetables and meat tasted… well they tasted good, but she was not really focused on that at the moment.

She kept looking at the scrap of paper, and at the second address. As she did, Xen Nevar's words sprang into her memory.

"…if you still have some anger burning in your veins… head to the second address. What you find there may be of some help. Think about it, at least? It can't hurt."

Well, she was feeling angry still.

…

…

…

Fuck it.

After she finished, she left a small tip on the table and then headed to the address.

By the time she had arrived, the sun had fully set, and the city's lanterns had all been lit, filling the city knight with soft firelight.

She found Xen Nevar waiting at the intersection noted on the scrap of paper.

He looked up at her approach and smiled. "It gladdens me to see you've arrived," he said. "I was almost afraid that you would not come."

"Sure," she said, fighting the urge to cross her arm across her chest. "So, what's all this about?"

"It's quite simple, he said. "I'm going to take you to a place where I think you'll be able to... cut loose. As I said earlier… you look like you need a real release. Some true passion, if you would."

Yang growled. "And as I said earlier, this better not be a weird sex-cult thing!" she spat, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "If it is, then I will make you eat my fist, asshole."

Xen seemed unfazed by her threat, and simply tut-tutted. "Such a horrid little gutter your mind seems to dwell in," he said with a chuckle. "Always thinking of sex. Just utterly appalling. I bemoan the mental direction of youth these days."

He then casually pulled her hand away from his shirt. "Now, as tempting as your offer to feed me your fist might be, I'm afraid that I will have to decline. Besides, don't be so frustratingly narrow in your way of thinking. There is more to passion than just the intimacy of the bedchambers, Yang. Passion is anything that can get the blood pumping, gets the adrenaline screaming in your veins, and helps work out all of life's little frustrations, the sort that build up until you explode. Where we're going helps with that, somewhat, as you will no doubt see."

He then started to walk away, and Yang, after a moment, followed him.

They turned left and stood before a large building. Xen Nevar rapped a certain rhythm on the door. A slide opened up, revealing a pair of inquisitive eyes which promptly roved over the two of them, before settling firmly on Xen.

Xen smiled, and the slide was promptly shut. A moment later, a series of locks could be heard being unlatched ,and the door was swung open to reveal a lanky human with an almost rodent-like mien.

"Who's she?" he asked, pointing to Yang.

Yang glared at him and was ignored.

"An interested party," Xen said. "One looking for excitement."

The rodent man seemed to understand what he was saying and nodded. Yang, meanwhile was left confused.

Without another word, the rodent man beckoned for her and Xen to follow him down a flight of stairs, which was lit by glowing stones and torchlight. They then came to a stop by two doors. The rodent-man went into the door on the left, and Xen made to follow him. When Yang did as well, Xen raised a hand to stop her. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Xen shook his head. "This is not the door you go in. Through this door, there is only a rather dull affair. Bu through this one?"

He pointed at the door to the right. "Beyond this door… excitement awaits," Xen said. "Of course, it's your choice whether or not enter it… or if you're strong enough to…"

Without another word, he went through the door on the left and closed it behind him, leaving Yang alone.

Yang looked at the door on the right. It was a… normal door, painted red and black perhaps, but still normal-looking,

A part of Yang wanted to turn on her heel and leave since all of this just seemed really stupid and/ or creepy. She could hear Tai's voice telling her to turn back. But… another part felt intrigued on what could happen next. Besides, if she did turn back, it would just make her seem too weak to move forward, even into the unknown.

Fuck that.

With that thought clear in her hand, Yang snarled and strode through the door with a steely determination.

When the door was shut behind her, she found herself in pitch darkness. A moment later, there came a bright light, and Yang found herself… in a rather large arena surrounded by a wide, circular wooden barrio about shoulder-high. The rest of the room was equally massive… and on the other side of the wooden barrier was a decently assembled crowd of kor, humans, merfolk, and even a few elves and vampires.

Everything was silent, and then came the sound of a throat being cleared, as a man strode into view.

He seemed relatively lean and muscular, a fact that was evident even under his red and green clothes. He had a brown beard and long brown hair that hung freely down his back. It was the same color as the hair on his arms, which were folded across his chest. His eyes were green, and he looked rather young, perhaps a few years older than her, at least or most.

He was also smiling. It was the sort of smile that said 'I know the punchline, and you don't.'

He then cleared his throat again and smiled, raising his arms in welcome. "Good evening my friends!" he said in a baritone voice. "I bid you a most hearty and heartfelt welcome to the beginning of tonight's grand and glorious revelry! Let it not be said that I, Ogex San, failed to deliver the promised spectacles that get the blood and adrenaline RACING! So, without any further dithering, let us commence to the first of the entertainments! A nice bit of bloodsport!"

The crowd cheered, and Yang unconsciously started clenching her fist, even though she could feel her other hand clenching as well and- no, no, no, not now!

Was this some sort of fight club? Hmm, okay, Yang would see where this went.

Ogex San then gestured towards the area across from Yang. "And so, let me introduce a familiar face! You know of his exploits, for he has been a familiar and comforting face in this ring for many a revelry and many a battle! He has gone up against all sorts of foes and fearsome beasts and has walked out the other side with a new story and notch under his belt. So, may I introduce... TARIK!"

A man stepped out.

The man was bulky, though perhaps not all that much taller than Uncle Qrow, as far as she could tell. Still, he had a fair amount of muscle on him, perhaps as much as d- as Taiyang. His head was shaved bare, revealing a plethora of tattoos and scars, all of which made up a strange crown-like thing. He was stripped to the waist, revealing a heavily scarred torso and noticeable abs.

Ogex San then raised his hands for quiet, before gesturing to where Yang stood.

"And here we have his challenger! Be not perplexed or deceived by her spindly appearance or tender age, for a heart of fire beats in her chest, and valor burns in her soul, all hot enough to rival that of an Akoum dragon! But will it be enough, I wonder? Well, we shall see, won't we? Thus, without further ado, I give you… YANG XIAO LONG!"

That seemed to be her cue, and so Yang did her best to stride with confidence. To her credit, she only stumbled a little bit.

A lot fewer people cheered for her than for that Tarik guy. That kind of pissed her off. When she and Tarik stood face to face, Ogex san laughed. "Now, remember you two, the only rule… is to win. Anything goes, and nothing is off the proverbial table. Just be sure to give us all an unforgettable show!"

The crowd cheered again as Ogex San then backed away, his smile still plastered on his face. Tarik simply grinned, a thing filled with yellow, broken teeth. "Tyr to make this fun, little cripple," he rumbled.

Yang returned the grin despite the situation. "Right back at you, shithead."

That earned her a glare from his beady eyes. Then, from the other side of the wooden barrier, she heard Ogex San call out. "AND BEGIN!"

Yang immediately went on the offensive, throwing her fist into a powerful haymaker.

But, still unused to fighting with one limb, she overextended into a punch that Tarik, despite his bulk, easily dodged and then-

Thwack!

Though her aura took a good deal of the blow; she still felt a bit of air get driven from her lungs at the hit. The asshole could sure move fast!

She then felt a blow land against the side of her head, and this one sent her reeling, even through her aura. She almost felt her teeth rattle from the blow, and she heard Tarik laugh.

Yang tumbled to her feet, shook her head, and dashed around him, and then leaped and slammed her fist in the side of his stomach. He grunted but didn't fall. Dammit! He was solid.

This time, she managed to dodge a swipe of one of his fists, and she punched him in the lower stomach, against his abs. That drew a louder grunt, and sent him staggering a moment. Still, the crowd kept cheering.

As she dodged another blow, she saw that his hands were glowing. Weird, but not the time to think about that.

Just keep moving. He was somewhat bigger than her, and bulkier, which meant he had to be a bit slower, even if by just a bit. Just keep moving, and wear him down. Just keep moving.

Yang through a rapid one-two punch… but when no 'two' came… dammit! She could still feel her arm and…

His knee slammed into her chin, jerking her head up, and sending flashes of light before her eyes.

She stumbled back. Luckily, the room wasn't spinning yet. But, she had to keep moving. Keep moving. Keep-

Her aura flickered as his fist buried itself in her stomach, and she started to tumble backwards.

Before she could, she felt a hand grab her collar, and then-

Thwack!

Thwack!

He hit her two times, each blow sending a small ripple of pain across her face. Over it all, the crowd, they were… laughing.

Thwack!

Thwack!

Two more times and she could feel her semblance charging up, ready and roaring to be unleashed, but the room was still spinning and he kept hitting her, and the crowd…

They were laughing.

They were all jeering at her like she was… weak.

… The horned man smirked, as his red claw flashed… the raven scoffed at her, as she turned away… Them, and so many others, including the dragon. All jeered and turned away, all while saying the same thing.

Weak.

Weak.

WEAK!

A strange roar then seemed to build up in Yang's ears, even as the heavy fist slammed her across the face a fifth time, and even as a slight coppery taste filled her mouth, along with the sensation of liquid, and as dull pain filled her could feel something then, and it… This felt like her semblance, just before it was ready to be unleashed, and yet… it felt like more. There was pain and yet… she could feel as if she was fire, ready to burn and roar, and a red haze filled her vision. Through the haze, she saw Tarik rear his fist back for another punch, and he was laughing.

No.

Almost on instinct, and just before his fist for a sixth time, Yang slammed her fist up into his elbow, eliciting a loud CRUNCH! This time, he did not groan but instead BELLOWED in agony as his elbow was bent the wrong way.

The crowd then suddenly went silent.

His hand released her shirt as it flopped uselessly to the side, and so Yang promptly hurtled herself forward and leaped up. As she leaped, she grabbed his neck, and pulled herself upwards, and slammed her head against his with a yell.

CRUNCH!

She felt his nose shatter, and his blood was damp against her forehead.

This time… this time it was his turn to fall, like a tree being felled.

Thump.

Yang started to breathe heavily, as the blaze within her continued to burn. It felt as if there was a part of her, whispering and yelling for Yang to straddle him, and keep punching him, over and over and over and over and-

Wait...

Wait...

Wait... that... that didn't... she didn't...

The longer she stood still, the more that the haze began to lift itself from Yang's eyes, and she found herself midstride, perhaps about to leap onto Tarik's still form and...

keep... punching...

She felt his blood on her forehead.

Yang took a shuddering breath, and took a step back, away from Tarik's groaning form.

A part of her, as she looked at Tarik, felt a bit horrified, but another…

Her whole body shaking, Yang lowered her hand to her side. She felt the bruises and blood on her face, but mostly the blood and pain, and the pain… felt good. Everything hurt, and it felt good, just as it had felt good hitting that bastard over and over and over and over.

But she felt more than just good. She felt strong.

Wait... why did she feel so good? She... she was going to...

Kill him?

As she stood, Ogex San walked over and then held up her arm. "Tonight's champion, lords, and ladies! YANG XIAO LONG!"

For a brief moment, there was silence. Silence, and then… someone began to cheer. They cheered, and a few even chanted her name.

The roar of the crowd... it felt… good.

She could feel a smile on her face. When had she last smiled?

Why was she smiling though? This... this was wrong! But she kept smiling.

As Ogex San wound down the crowd and what she assumed to be medics carried Tarik away, Yang was guided out of the arena. A few people she passed by gave her pats on her shoulder, as if impressed by the fight, or how quickly she had ended it, maybe.

Soon enough, after ascending the flight of stairs, she was standing outside the building, and the night air felt good on her bruised and bloody skin.

She would heal quickly, and she. Felt...

She felt...

Tarik groaned.

Yang promptly threw up on the street, into some bushes, to be more precise.

"Well done, my friend," Xen said from behind her, as she wiped at her mouth. "I was impressed by how quickly you ended that fight. Well done."

Yang turned at his approach, and she saw the smile on his face. Why was he so happy? "Here," he said.

He then deposited a middling-sized bag of coins into her hand. "The hell is this?" she asked, as she awkwardly hefted it.

Xen's eyes twinkled. "Those are your winnings for tonight's bout, Yang… and your share of the bets I made on your behalf."

Yang blinked and then narrowed her eyes. "You... you bet on me?" she asked, increduously.

He nodded without hesitation. "I did, and I happily admit it. As it was, I was one of the few that had the good fortune to. The rest, however, all laid down their wagers in favor of poor Tarik there. The odds were not in your favor, though. Almost 20 to 1, in fact. Happily, all turned out well for me, and thus, for you, in the form of a neat little payday of somewhat generous proportions."

He flashed her a grin. "So, in summation; well done. So, how are you feeling?"

As she stowed the sack of coin in her satchel, Yang clenched her fist, the leather of her bloody glove creaking. How was she feeling? She felt sore, bruised, a bit weary, and tired, for the most part. Her jaw also ached a bit from where she had been punched.

But, at the same time, she felt… invigorated. Awake, alert, a bit wild, like she could run a hundred miles, and still have enough energy to run across the rest of the world. She felt good.

She felt...

...keep punching him, over and over and over and over and-

Her hand shook slightly.

"I feel fine," she finally said.

She felt horrible. And she felt great.

He smiled. "Delighted to hear. You know, there will be another round, tomorrow. Same place, and roughly the same time. Would you care to step into the ring again, if you think you're up for it?"

Yang felt the heft of the coin purse in her satchel. She then remembered how it felt when she had defeated the sneering fucker, Tarik, slamming her head into his face, and making the crowd stop laughing at her; like a song in her veins.

She remembered the pitying looks she had gotten, from the quarry, and from Taiyang and everyone else, looking at her as if she were weak.

...

...

...Well, all she had to do was not lose control again, right?

"Yeah," she said, as a small grin spread across her face. "I'll be there, Xen. I'm strong enough to handle anything, after all."

He answered with a grin of his own. "Most excellent. Oh, and one word of advice... the people who come to that arena, they come expecting to watch a show, a spectacle. Next time... maybe draw it out a little bit longer, eh?"

With that, Xen strode away down the street, whistling.

That night, after depositing her winning into the cellar, Yang promptly threw un in the bathroom again, and then had soaked in the house's tub a good long while, washing off the blood, while her aura slowly healed her bruises, slowly, but surely. Through it all though… she kept feeling...

She wasn't sure what she was feeling. Great that she won? Horrified that she almost beat someone to death, even after he was down?

Both?

No matter. She just would not lose control like she almost had done back there. Simple. She wasn't a monster, after all.

She wasn't weak enough to go nuts like that again...

After her soak, Yang all but collapsed into her bed, and slept a deep and dreamless sleep…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jaune

The Wilds of Eldraine

Jaune was feeling tired, to say the least. But that was understandable when you had been fighting to stay alive for several days straight, as well as being kept mostly awake by the sounds of horrific battle echoing in your head and memories.

Everyone who fell, their spirits could be seen the next day in the ghastly battle.

He wandered across the field, illuminated as it was by the last dregs of the afternoon sun, and he headed down towards the large body of water, having volunteered to fill up everyone's canteens. After removing his boots, he waded in and proceeded to refill his canteen and the others. He looked around as he did so, and shook his tired head.

Amazing how quiet and pristine it seemed right now, compared to the chaotic mess it would turn into during the day.

As he filled his skin, he thought back on the past several days, since he and the rest of the company had voluntarily entered the curse.

More specifically, it had been almost two weeks since then.

After screwing the top on the canteens and stowing them away, Jaune wiped at his face and groaned.

"I have to ask; how much longer will you and your fellows be at this?" came a feminine, watery voice out of nowhere.

Jaune spun around in the water, Crocea Mors already drawn and held at the ready.

The voice laughed. "Some go for only a few days at most. But you lot? Why it's been almost two weeks now. Quite astounding. You must be really determined to break this dreadful curse."

"Who's there?" Jaune said, keeping a firm and steady grip on his broken blade. "Show yourself."

"Behind you," the voice said.

Jaune slowly turned around, the water at his knees and the water in the canteens swishing ad sloshing about. Rising from the water was a humanoid head, and one wreathed and surrounded by a large-long tangle of red hair.

Red like…

..She peered up at him, good humor dancing in her bright green eyes, and her fiery-red ponytail dangled behind.

"Do you have any spots left on your team?" she asked teasingly...

Jaune blinked the memory away. The red hair framed a face that was… was a seamless mixture of human and aquatic; smooth, lightly purple-and turquoise in color, and two slits in place of an actual nose. Her large eyes were solid and shiny green-gold orbs. Her lips were quirked in a thin and somewhat taunting little smile.

As she kept rising and walking towards him, he looked, and… with his face no doubt blushing, he did his best to keep his eyes on her face, seeing as how she was wearing nothing at all. Then, he realized that all of it was… smooth. No… characteristics at all, though, like she was sheathed in some sort of a skin-tight suit, though what looked like long gills ran down the length of her body.

Her hair reached well below her waist in tangles, and she idly tapped the end of Crocea Mors with a taloned, webbed hand, as if curious by its appearance.

This was an undine, a creature of the waters.

Jaune ignored his confusion at his knowledge of what she was and kept his blade steady.

As she looked at him and his broken blade, she smiled and let out a small chuckle. To his slight trepidation, he saw her teeth were all little razor points. "You know, I don't believe that I've ever been threatened with a broken sword before. How very novel an experience; a true first for me, I will happily admit."

She then narrowed her eyes and her smile widened somewhat. "However, there is no need to be waving sharp things in each other's faces. It's rather rude. Still, if you want to compare swords…"

She nonchalantly held up her other hand, and into it materialized a large, translucent, and golden sword, and on that was as tall as Jaune.

She was holding it easily in one hand as if it weighed nothing more than a feather perhaps.

Jaune blinked, and then the sword's edge was at his throat. Had she even moved?

She smiled. "So, how about we put away our weapons, and talk in more polite circumstances?"

"How… how do I know you won't try and drown me?" Jaune retorted before he could keep his mouth shut.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and yet all she did was chuckle again. "How wounding of you, truly. But… I think you are too interesting to drown right now. So, what do you say?"

Jaune blinked again, and then slowly sheathed Crocea Mors. That earned him another smile, and the sword dissipated. She then drew closer to him and… held out a webbed and taloned hand. "So, what should I call you, human with a broken blade?"

"… Jaune. Jaune Arc."

"Jaune Arc."

She spoke and sounded out each and every syllable as if savoring his name, or simply looking it over like a child would a new toy. "That is a good name, I think. Strong and simple."

"Uh… thanks. You're… not the first to tell me that."

"That is gladdening to hear," she replied. "I am Emry, lady of the Lock and all that dwells beneath the surface of the watery and the wet."

"Nice to meet you," Jaune said. "So… are you trapped by the curse too?"

She laughed. "No, good Jaune of Arc. As long as there is water, I am free to come and go as I please."

His eyes widened at that. "Wait, that means you have a way out! You can help us escape!?"

She arched a ridge where an eyebrow would normally be and shook her head. "A feasible idea, but I doubt you or your companions have the lung capacity for it."

"Well… we have a wizard?"

"And can he grant you all functioning gills without causing irreparable damage? Or turn you all into undines like myself?"

Jaune blinked. "Uh…. I guess not." That didn't seem to be within Auborun's wheelhouse.

She graced him with an almost pitying smile. "Then it seems that, unless you can break the curse, you are all stuck here, just like all those who came before you."

Jaune really had not wanted to be reminded of that, and then an idea came to mind. "Wait… can you help break it? You seem very powerful, after all…"

She shook her head. "Curses, while fascinating, are things that I know better than to touch, and this curse… it is vile to an almost deathly degree, especially for one such as myself."

"Oh."

She regarded him for a moment. "Tell me… how have you all attempted to break it thus far?"

Jaune shrugged tiredly. "Everything. We keep fighting and fighting, but nothing… nothing happens. Even Auborun (our wizard-druid), his spells do absolutely nothing…"

Jaune could nothing, of course. Then again, he had always been pretty useless…

Emry was silent for a moment, and then… she laughed her watery laugh. "It's almost astounding, how nearsighted you dry-dwellers can be."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She chuckled again. "What it means, my dear Jaune of Arc, is that you land-dwellers are always so quick to slash and cut, torch and burn. It's rather funny, if not also a bit sad, how that is always your most tried method, how you think it your only available option. So little to learn, that way…"

"Again; what are you talking about?"

Her smile grew small. "Fighting is not the only way to end a war, Jaune of Arc."

Having said that, Emry gave him a small wave. "Try and survive. It would find it most displeasing if you were to die."

With that, she then dove back into the water and vanished into its depth with barely a splash.

The water stilled, and Jaune was alone once again, save for the canteens about his person, and his thoughts.

Silently he made his way back to the camp, where the air was, understandably, a bit tense. Even the crackle of the campfire seemed a thing on edge, and Jaune could see rings under everyone's eyes, even those of the elves.

Around the campfire, Torbran scratched at his head as he held his pipe between clenched teeth. "Well, lads and lasses, consider me plum out of any bloody ideas."

"My sentiments exactly," Auborun said, a morose edge lurking in the elf's voice.

Jaune felt mostly the same. Everything they had tried, all came to the same result, aside from death; Nothing.

They had tried everything one could think of; wiping out large portions of both armies, assassinating the apparent leaders in the middle of the melee, helping one side win, or just fighting without stopping. Nothing was working. Nothing at all, and every day, after each clash of the two ghostly armies, the curse kept expanding its reach. Nothing, nothing, and nothing. Nothing was working. All the while, the company was slowly, cruelly, horrifically being whittled down. Over the past two weeks, they had lost almost a dozen members, once of which had been the dwarf woman who Jaune had met when he had first awoken in the company's camp.

Her name had been Egred.

No one was sure how much longer they all could go on for. At this point, it seemed more like they were prolonging the inevitable.

No matter what they did, everything just… reset the next day. Over and over again.

Through it all, Jaune could not get the screams out of his head. Over and over again.

"I don't want to die!" "Why are we fighting?" "DIE, DIE, DIE!"

"Help us."

He felt Thumbletack alight on his shoulder. "Are you okay, Jaune?" the little faerie asked with a slight yawn.

Jaune gave a small smile. "Just a bit tired, Thumbletack. Nothing else."

"I don't want to die!"

"Why are we fighting?"

"DIE, DIE, DIE!"

… "You land-dwellers are always so quick to slash and cut, torch and burn. It's rather funny, if not also a bit sad, how that is always your most tried method, how you think it your only available option. So little to learn, that way…"

… Grandpa was at his customary place by the fire, a somber expression on his face. "A war is a terrible thing, Jaune," he said, as he rocked back and forth.

Creak.

Creak.

"What do you mean? Don't a lot of people become heroes in wars, like great-great-great grandpa?"

Grandpa shook his head. "There are better and kinder ways to be a hero, Jaune, than participating in the ultimate failure of humans and faunus alike. That is, in essence, what war is; a failure, a last resort on any sentient being's part… and yet, it has become our go-to method for advancement and change within our minds."

The fire crackled and spat, while Jaune listened intently.

Grandpa then sighed, as he rubbed at one of the scars on his hand. "If people would just listen and talk to one another, instead of just rattling sabers and throwing punches and firing bullets every time we disagreed with each other…then perhaps the kingdoms would be safer, if not happier… and we wouldn't be doing the grimm's job for them half the bloody time…"

...

...

...

Splash

Jaune scratched at his bearded chin as the memories swam about in his head. Then, an idea sprang to life.

Later, when most of the camp had gone off to do their own little nightly rituals before getting what little sleep they could afford, Jaune slowly stood up, startling the dozing Thumbletack as he did so, for the faerie had remained perched on his shoulder most nights after the battle. "Hey," the faerie whispered. "What the bloody heck are ya doin', Jaune?"

"I'm going to go and try something," Jaune whispered as he drew his cloak close about him, and headed towards the edge of the small encampment. "Something that people don't normally try and do."

The faerie cocked his head. "And what's that?"

"I'm going to listen," Jaune said quietly with a grin, as he gestured to his ear. "Want to help?"

The little guy's face lit up. "You bet. Not sure what it is you want to actually do, but I'll assist as best I can. Should we get Gringy?"

The faerie and Gringolet had become fast friends over the past two weeks, to say the least.

Jaune shook his head at the faerie's suggestion. "No, better let them rest. They've ben fighting as hard as everyone else here, so, I think they've earned it."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I think I should be the judge of that," came a familiar voice.

Jaune and Thumbletack turned as Gringolet softly trod into view behind them, the stirrups of his saddle softly rattling.

"…This could be dangerous," Jaune said, as Gringolet came to a halt.

"And as I told you, Syr Jaune; I am your loyal steed. Where you go, I shall follow. End of discussion."

"Yeah, and same goes for me… minus the steed part," Thumbletack said.

Seeing as this was not an argument Jaune was going to win, he mounted on Gringolet, and the three quietly headed off across the field, before Gringolet then broke into a quick gallop, once they were out of earshot of the company.

After several minutes, they approached the edge of the ghostly camp, lit up as it were by ghostly firelight. Weird but it looked... like any war camp from the old storybooks.

Then, they heard the sound of footsteps, right behind them. With fear in his veins, Jaune held up his hand for the silence of his companions. Would the ghosts attack them here, as they did on the battlefield?

With a held breath, all three watched as the ghostly sentry… walked right by them, so close, a few inches in fact, that the ghost could touch Gringolet's flank, and yet… it was as if the ghost did not register them at all.

Curious, and with the memory of the first day still fresh in his mind, Jaune reached forward with his right hand to grab at the sentry's armor… and his hand passed right through, like through the surface of a pool of water.

Amazing. It almost seemed as if, outside of battle, the ghosts had no idea of their existence at all… or at least when he did not touch them with his left hand.

With that new information sorted away, Jaune, Gringolet, and Thumbletack made their way into the camp, where the ghosts remained unaware of their very existence and presence.

"Right," Jaune began, as he dismounted. "Here's the plan; we'll split up, move around the camp, and then, when one of us makes a noise, we'll meet back here, alright?"
There was no reason for him to be whispering, perhaps… but best not to take any chances.

"What do you wish for us to do?" Gringolet inquired.

"Just… listen, I guess," Jaune said. "Listen, and learn everything you can, but we need to get out of here before sunrise, alright?"

With that, the three split up; Thumbletack flitted about, Gringolet trotted slowly towards the stables, and Jaune crept through the camp, keeping his ears open all the while.

He passed by one of the fires, around which was sat a small group of what appeared to be pike-men. Most were warming their hands by the fire, and all looked haggard and worn.

One of them looked up, and spoke. "Sergeant Estrada. Care to join us?"

Sergeant Estrada was a plain-looking woman in equally plain-looking armor. The sword belted at her waist was equally plain in appearance, but it looked well-used and well cared-for. She nodded, and approached, sitting down by the fire and stretching forward her hands. "My thanks for the invite," she said. "Night's bloody cold."

"That it is," the inviting pikeman said. "Want anything to nibble?"

"No, but thank you."

"When can we finally go home, sergeant?" one of the other pikemen then asked.

The question made her look up, and then she shrugged. "When the battle's been won and the war is over, I suppose."

"But it's already been years. We're all tired, and ache for home. So how much longer?"

"I'm not going to repeat myself," she said plainly."

Aother of the pikemen then spoke up. "There's something that's been right bothering me, sergeant."

"And what might that be?"

The man took off his armored cap and scratched at his blading pate. "Well, it's just…What are we even fighting for? This war, what's it all really about?"

The sergeant's eyes then narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Almost four years now, we've been fighting and killing and dying, and for what? I can't even remember? Was it because someone got killed? Insulted? Raped even? Or is it all just a land grab? Why are we here, so far from our homes, sergeant? Why is this war even happening!?"
Estrada shot to her feet in a clamor of steel, and leveled such a glare upon the pikemen that even Jaune briefly cowered from it. "Stow that sort of talk at once, corporal! Do you wish to lower morale? It could mean the difference between life and death tomorrow! All we can do is fight and survive"

The pikeman looked as if he wanted to argue furth, but instead just nodded. "Of course, sergeant. My apologies."

Estrada kept her gaze firmly for a moment, and then sighed. "It's fine, Errold. You're tired. We're all tired. Just… get some sleep. The same goes for the rest of you. Understood?"

"Yes, sergeant," they all said with half-hearted salutes.

"Good. Dismissed."

As the group dispersed, Jaune continued on, and straight towards the important-looking tent near the center.

Jaune drew closer to the tent, sticking to the shadows, just as he remembered Runner had once taught… him…

Not now.

Inside the sparsely decorated tent were two men; one was tall and lean, and the other rather short and hawkish in appearance. Judging by their armor, they looked to be pretty important. Maybe the leaders, or at least very high-ranking officers?"

Jaune leaned in and listened…

"What is the purpose of this war, Lord Bult?" the short one asked the tall one. "What could we or they possibly hope to gain from… any of this?"

The Lord shrugged as he poured the wine. "Dashed if I know, Gwyddion, old friend. Half the time, I can't even fathom why we fight these damned things in the first place. Shouldn't that be more in your purview, as a general?"

General Gwyddion accepted the cup and drank deeply from it. "You know… before we left for this front, I heard rumors that there would be talk of peace."

Lord Bult raised an eyebrow at that. "Do you think there any validity to them?"

Gwyddion nodded. "I do. Mostly because I received a communique from the kingdom; peace has been tentatively drawn out, and accord has been reached."

That caught Lord Bult's attention. "Are you in earnest?"

"Indeed I am. They are sending a messenger with a copy of the actual treaty. It should be here on the morrow."

"Well, this is most wonderful news," Bult exclaimed. "We must tell our troops…"

Gwyddion held up a hand. "No, my friend. I have been given strict orders to do no such thing until the document arrives. Until then, we advance as previously ordered."

"But why?" Bult demanded. "Why continue on with this horrific farce if peace is assured-"

"Because we can't be sure if it's real, or if it will even take!" Gwyddion exclaimed. "Until that document is in my hands, and I have put pen to parchment, I will not give our soldiers false hope. Even more than despair, that is the cruelest thing you or I can do to them! And beyond that…" he took a shuddering breath. "Beyond that, we can't be sure if this peace will even last long enough to matter, or if it will all just implode in our faces like a sack of rotten fruit a year later, and then we'll all be back to killing one another anyway."

He then promptly downed the rest of his wine in a single breath.

"All the more reason to have faith that it will, my old friend," said Bult, as he laid a hand on Gwyddion's armored shoulder. "Tomorrow, this will end with sheathed swords and lightened hearts. Then… we can all go home. Circle knows I've missed my husband enough as it is, and you have certainly missed your children."

The general said nothing.

Having heard all he needed to, Jaune slunk away. With a low, owl-hoot he remembered learning during a sojourn into the forests, he and Gringolet and Thumbletack sped away into the night. "So, what did you guys learn?" Jaune whispered.

"No one in that army wanted to fight anymore," Gringolet said. "They all sounded just so… tired."

"Yeah. They all just wanted to go home," Thumbletack added. "What about you, Jaune? Learn anything?"

Jaune nodded. "I think so, but I just need to confirm something with the other side first…"

The three raced back across the field, past the company, and towards the other army's encampment.

It was perhaps mostly the same there as well; the mood, the grim pallor that hung about. This army's leaders, General Antarga and Commander Abryn, also seemed to be in much the same situation.

"Peace," Antarga murmured under her breath. "I can scarce believe it to be so."

"Do you think it's real?" Abryn asked grimly, as he fingered the flanged head of his mace.

"Dare we hope otherwise?"

The commander shook his head, his braids whipping about slightly from the motion. 'I don't trust it," he declared. "Sendings can be intercepted and reconfigured. It might be a trick, to let down our guard."

"And what if it's not?" Antarga said as she stepped towards him in a rattle of metal, a desperate hope clean and clear on her worn face. "After all these months, these years of fighting? We could have a real chance for peace! We can all finally go home, get drunk in a tavern, fuck a loved one, or a prostitute, and not have to sleep in dirt ditches, wondering if the next day we die from sword or arrow or spell or pike."

"So, what then?" Abryn inquired. "Are we to stand down?"

At that, the general's face fell. "No… until the messenger arrives with the copy of the treaty… we are to advance as previously ordered."

Abyrn nodded at that. "Seems logical. Best not to invoke false hope."

"Aye, I suppose you could look at it like that."

Jaune and Thumbletack and Gringolet left quickly and finally retunred to the company's camp, whre everyone was waiting for him

"Where the bloody hells have ye been, lad?" Torbran inquired, as Jaune dismounted. "We were worried sick, we were!"

"I was listening," Jaune said. "And I think I figured it out; how to end the curse!"

That caught everyone's attention, to say the least, and so Jaune told them all that he had learned.

"I overheard the ghosts of General Gwydion and Lord Bult discussing that they were supposed to be receiving a dispatch from their kingdom, on the day of the battle. Something about… a peace accord, or at least that was what they hoped. I also heard the same thing from General Antarga and Commander Abryn."

Jaune tapped a finger against his deadened hand. He often did that when he was nervous… though he had never done so before now. "So, we know that both sides wanted peace. Then, we know that something, maybe a mistake in the mist, an errant arrow, or whatever, it causes all hell to break loose, and hey-presto, the battle, and everyone dies violently. Then… rinse and repeat."

"So what?" Ekrin, a short elf swordswoman, asked. "How does knowing any of that offer us any assistance? Really, it doesn't actually help us at all, human."

Jaune could feel the gears start to turn over in his head. "Actually… maybe it does. Maybe the way that we can break this curse is not to help one side win the battle, or kill both sides or whatever, but to keep it from happening at all, or putting it to a stop."

That sent the camp a murmuring. "And how do we go about doing that?" Auborun then asked with an arched eyebrow. "The spirits keep reenacting every moment leading up to their deaths on the battlefield. No matter what we do, no matter how we may or may not interact with them, the battle still occurs, and everyone still dies, and thus the blight grows ever larger, consuming more and more of the Wilds. Then, as you said, 'rinse and repeat.'"

"I know," Jaune replied to the wizard-druid. "But I've thought about that too. Now, aside from messenger magic, which we know both sides were too reluctant to use all that much for fear of tampering, the swiftest, and relatively safest, way to deliver a message would be via the air, right? By griffon."

"Yes, that is a preferred method for any relatively sane individual. What's your point?"

Jaune rubbed at his face. "Looking back, I could swear that, at some point during the battle, I heard the sound of a large… thing hitting the lake. A splash. But, at no point did any of either army's fighters tumble into the water, at least any deeper than the shallows. And none of them are large enough to make a loud enough splash. This means that, most likely…"

Torbran snapped his thick fingers. "There was a bloody messenger, coming by griffon, but they musta' gotten shot doon durin' tha battle!"

"Exactly, which means that the bodies should still be at the bottom of the lake, and thus it stands to hope that the message, the peace treaty, is there as well. Something that important would have to be protected by magic, right, to keep it from degrading at least? Or, at the very least, the idea of it. So, if we find the body, we can find the message, and thus, we might find a way to stop the battle, and end this curse. I mean, it's worth a shot, right? What else can we do at this point? Aside from dying."

Auborun stroked his chin. "Hmm. Perhaps. But we will need proof of this before heading off on another wild wyvern chase. This little expedition has already cost many of our fellows their lives, and our supplies are dwindling more and more. At this rate, we can only survive another day. Two, at most."

Jaune nodded. "I know, I know. As for finding the proof… we're going to need someone fast, tiny, and with good eyesight. Someone who can flit up and about the battlefield, all with little chance of being hit by arrows or spells."

The moment he said all that, everyone then turned to the now unusually quiet faerie who was still perched on Jaune's shoulder.

Thumbletack swallowed, slapped his small cheeks, and then drew himself up as best he could. "You can count on me," he declared.

Grimly, Tobran raised his waterskin. "To success then."

The rest of the night, sleep was fitful, to say the least. This was their last hope, after all.

The following morning, as Thumbletack took to the skies in a burst of speed, the battle was right and swiftly joined and resumed in all its horror. Jaune's blades were a whirl of motion all the while, alongside the rest of the company, and the ghosts of Benedict and Quick. He watched as General Gwyddion fell, his neck slashed open by an ax-blade, and then watched as Lord Bult bled out from a severed arm as he tried to save his friend.

They nearly lost another member of the company; a dwarf named Herik. Were it not for Auborun's spells, he would have surely died. Though, he did lose three fingers and a good strip of skin off his arm.

The day went by both slowly and quickly, all at once, in a blur of blood and steel.

As the sun started to set, and the battle began to wind down, Jaune saw that Sergeant Estrada was one of the last to fall, alongside Commander Abryn.

Jaune watched as the two opposing soldiers, each bearing half a dozen wounds of varying severity, screamed in either pain, rage, or both, and charged at one another as they clashed for a final time.

Abryn's mace smashed Estrada's jaw straight off in a shower of gore, even as the sergeant drove her sword deep through the commander's stomach and out his back. It reminded Jaune a bit of the old picture of a boar hunt gone wrong; of the boar goring the hunter that had just killed it.

He and the others watched as the two fell together to the ground, their weapons discarded. To his horror, the pair were both still 'alive' for the moment, though it was obvious they would 'expire' fairly soon. The sounds that Estrada was making were beyond horrific. Jaune then watched with sorrow was the two enemy soldiers… both began to weep, and they embraced one another as tenderly as they could, even as they expired.

"War is the ultimate folly, Jaune, and it makes fools and cowards and monsters of us all, as well as just more fodder for the grimm. Even the heroes it supposedly breeds."

The battlefield then fell quiet as the two breathed their last. Indeed, it was silent as a grave save for the wind. A heartbeat later, all the bodies soon vanished, rewinding to replay the gruesome scene the next day. As they did… another small copse of trees withered and died. It had spread once again.

Jaune wiped at his face, wiping away blood, sweat, and tears, and grime. How long? How long had these ghosts been forced to fight, over and over, and always dying the same manner?

What had they even been fighting for?

The rest of the day was passed in silence as the company sat around the fresh campfire, now moved even further back. As they waited, Jaune cleaned blood and viscera off of Gringolet's horn and coat, for which the unicorn was rather appreciative. All the while, they waited.

Had the faerie been killed?

Then, the sound of thrumming wingbeats finally announced Thumbletack's return.

The faerie all but collapsed on Jaune's shoulder, and looked bedraggled, to say the least. He was also panting heavily.

"Are you okay?" Jaune asked as the rest of the company gathered around.

Though he did not answer verbally, the little faerie did manage a shaky thumbs-up.

"So? Don't keep us in bloody suspense, ye wee insect! Tell us what ya saw!" Torbran demanded.

After several more pants, Thumbletack took a deep breath and then spoke. "I saw a woman on a griffon, flying overhead towards the battle," Thumbletack said hurriedly. "All the while, I had to evade arrows and fireballs and other nasty things! One of the fireballs hit the woman and her steed, and they got roasted and they plummeted into the lake there. SPLASH! So yeah, that happened, and I will take all the thank-yous that I can get!"

"Okay. Okay, that's good, and thank you, Thumbletack. But, where exactly in the river did she fall?" Jaune asked.

Thumbletack pointed. "Over near the middle."

'Near the middle' happened to be a very good distance away from the bank, to say the least. "That's going to be quite deep," Auborun said. "And difficult to navigate in either day or night."

"Yeah, but right now, it's our best bet. We will wait until morning when the battle is joined, and then I'll just… dive down and get it," Jaune declared.

"Are you sure?" Auborun asked. "As I have just noted, the water will be very deep."

"Yeah," Jaune said. "I can swim… pretty well."

Aqua was always the better swimmer, though….

No, not now!

Jaune took a deep breath. "Besides… we have to try, and I'm the only one here with… nothing to get back to at the moment. Unless anyone else here wishes to try in my stead?"

No one else in the company offered, though shame was apparent on their faces. The dwarves were especially silent. At that, Jaune nodded. "Right, so… how about we all get some sleep, and then… we'll do this. Yeah?"

Everyone hesitantly nodded in agreement, and nothing more was said for the rest of the night. Even Gringolet and Thumbletack remained silent.

The following morning, as the sun began to rise above the trees, and the distant sounds of the approaching armies could be heard, Jaune headed down to the bank of the river, while the rest of the company braced themselves for the coming onslaught, As he walked, Jaune began divesting himself of his patchwork armor, letting it all fall to the wet riverbank behind him. It was quickly followed by his shoes, socks, and shirt, leaving him stripped to the waist, with only the necklace bearing the ring of Benedict's lady. He then waded in until he was roughly waist-deep.

Yep, it was… a bit chilly. Still, this was his and the company's last shot. No going back now.

With a few… several deep breaths to steady his nerves, Jaune inhaled deeply to fill his and expand his lungs, and then, after the eighth breath, he promptly leaped and dived into the river. The minute his head was beneath the surface, icy-cold lanced it way straight through to his very bones. Mentally, he gritted his teeth, and kept swimming, propelling, pulling, and kicking himself downwards, deeper and deeper into the mire and the watery depths.

Still, in contrast to the surface, it was almost… serene.

He kept swimming and looking, looking and… there!

The bones of a large animal lay at the river floor, among the remains of other things and creatures. Vaguely, he could make out the shape of wing bones, and its beaked face.

A griffon.

With increased fervor and lessening air, he kicked and swam downwards towards the corpse, as fast as he could. As he drew closer, he could make out more details; namely, the humanoid corpse entwined with the bones of the griffon. A moment later, a fresher version of the griffon and its rider's bodies drifted downwards from above.

With determination replacing the dwindling air in his lungs, Jaune swam towards it as the ghosts came to a rest. He saw the bag at her side, reached for it, and… there!

A scroll case, encrusted with algae and other things.

The moment he gripped it, he pushed off the loch bed and swam upwards as fast as he could. Up, up he swam. Up, up, up-

Suddenly, his ascent was arrested all at once, as something snaked around his waist and neck. With wide eyes, he jerked about, and saw… tendrils. Tendrils woven of plants and pure darkness. Wrapping tight all around him.

A stream of bubbles blew from his throat as his mouth opened for but a moment, as the tendrils wrapped tighter and tighter around his neck and chest, and slowly pulling him down, down, down.

Darkness was edging around his vision. He couldn't break free, he couldn't break…

It was so hard to breathe.

… Just give up, Jaune. This is where you belong. Dead and forgotten. It's all you ever will be."

The sound of laughter echoed all around him, echoed seven-fold. "You just can't do it Jaune. Just give up already."

"Just give up."

"You can't do it. You never could."

"Jandice, Jandice, Jandice!"

"It's kind of pathetic. Sometimes, you just have to give up!"

"You'll never make it-"

No, no, NO! SHUT UP! He would not die here! Not now!

As he continued to struggle, Jaune clenched his left fist tightly and felt it start to glow. Out of the corner of his dimming vision, he saw Quick's specter swim into view, and slash at the tendrils with a silent laugh and a swing of his blade.

The moment he was free, the specter then pushed Jaune up, and the Arc sibling began kicking and swimming upwards, as fast as he could, but the surface still felt so far away, too far, too far…

Why was he slowing down? Why?

Why…

It was getting so hard to see.

His lungs hurt. He felt so tired.

He thought he saw something then… a form swimming towards him, holding a large glowing sword…

…

…

…

The first thing he felt was a cool hand touched his chest, and the feeling spread.

Jaune's eyes shot open, and he jerked to his side coughed up several mouthfuls of water, mixed with saliva and some of the contents of his stomach. Soon enough, he was heaving. Dust, but it felt like he had swallowed half the river!

"It was a near thing, Jaune of Arc," came a familiar voice, cutting through the noise of the battle just beyond the bank. "Were it not for me, you would have drowned and laid on the bottom of the river for all time."

Gasping, Jaune looked over his shoulder to see Emry, lounging on the bank next to him, her finned legs crisscrossed, while her head was cradled in her webbed and taloned hands.

She gave him a full smile. "Best get a move on, Jaune of Arc. You have a curse to end, after all, and I doubt your fellows will last much longer."

Jaune then realized he was still clutching the scroll case. Or was it the ghost of it?

Fuck it, that didn't matter.

With a manic energy nipping at his heels, Jaune shot unsteadily to his feet, and ran up the bank towards the field just as the battle had begun to reach its fevered pitch, just as the rest of the company had begun to be overwhelmed. He saw Auborun chanint rapidly, Torbran hacking away, and Gringolet kicking and spearing with its horn, all the while Thumbletack clutched the unicorn's mane tightly, occasionally throwing out a small spell or two.

Time to end this nightmare.

Jaune dashed past them, and right into the center of the mad melee, holding the scroll case high all the while.

"THE WAR IS OVER!" He cried out, waving the scroll case over his head like a makeshift banner. "IT'S OVER! PEACE WAS MADE! YOU DON'T HAVE TO FIGHT ANYMORE! THE WAR IS OVER! THE WAR IS OVER! THERE IS PEACE!"

As his shout rang out across the battlefield, it was as if a flare had been shot out, or that someone had pressed pause on a video. The fighting, it all just… stopped, as if it were a painting, caught in one dreadful moment among a host of other moments. Then, they… sheathed their weapons, and ceased fighting before walking towards him, from both sides. Torbran and the rest all stood tensely by Jaune's side; bloodied, battered, and with their own weapons still at the ready should the ghosts and spirits suddenly attack again. They tensed tighter when the armies started to move again… assembling in several columns before them, all with ephemeral weapons sheathed or discarded, and neither side attacking the other anymore.

All the ghosts of both armies, they just… stood silently before the remnants of the company, their forms cycling from fleshy to wounded to rotting to skeletal, before cycling through it again. At the same time, they all looked about, seeming as if they were seeing their surroundings for the first time.

For a long moment, nothing was said or done or even heard. There was just… silence. A deep and uncomfortable silence.

Meanwhile, the breeze drew a slight chill across Jaune's wet skin and clothes, though he felt no real cold at that moment.

Then, the ghosts all turned to look at Jaune; a veritable sea of the dead eyes, all upon him. There was such a swirling intensity behind them all that Jaune felt small in every sense of the word at that moment… and yet he did not cower. Instead, he stood tall, ignoring the memories of mocking in his head.

Then, the ghosts began to speak.

"You have… freed us," said General Gwydion, as blood bubbled from the cut in his throat as it opened again. "We are ourselves, no longer forced to play out that horrid end, that dance of death, over and over again and again."

"You saved us," murmured Sergeant Estrada, before her jaw came undone and landed on the grass, while her gaping jaw soon crawled with worms. "Thank you."

General Antarga looked over the rest of the company. "Thank you all, for rescuing us, at long last. Thank you, thank you, thank you… and you especially, noble knight."

Jaune swallowed. "Just… I just did what I thought was right. Anyone would have."

"A kindly sentiment, good syr," said Lord Bult. "Some would call it naive, but it is refreshing, nonetheless."

"Who did this to you?" Jaune then asked. "Who cursed you all?"

The two armies were silent for a moment. "Korvold," Commander Abryn then said with a growl, as an invisible sword punctured its way through his stomach and out his back.

Jaune took note that the rest of the company shifted about nervously at the mention of that name. Even stoic Auborun, though all his did was grip his staff tightly. Meanwhile, he could feel the anger radiating off all of the ghosts.

"The accursed one," said Lord Bult, as his arm slowly detached and fell by his side. "The fog, it has lifted from my mind, from all of our minds. I remember it now, clear as the bright day. He was the one who incited the flames of violence between our kingdoms, and then damned us to this torment, and all for the satiation of his own twisted and wrathful amusement. I remember now; I heard his voice as we all lay dying, aflame with dark laughter and greedy intent. He did this to all of us, so that he could glut upon our suffering."

"You're free now," Jaune said, as he swallowed a lump in his throat.

A sorrowful light came into Gwyddion's eyes as his flesh regrew. "Are we? What good is that to the likes of us, noble knight? All that we have known and loved are long dead, turned to dust, and scattered upon the wind. Our loved ones, our friends, our family lines… even our homes, they all are gone. Nothing is left for us, and there are none that even remember our names."

"Then… can you perhaps move on?" Auborun asked. "To wherever it is that souls pass on to?"

General Antarga looked at the elf. "Perhaps," she said. "We have lingered here too long, and… I can hear a faint chime, ringing in the distance. We all can. It beckons to us as if wanting us to come in from the cold. It is enticing, but yet…"

"We are afraid," Sergeant Estrada continued. "We are too fearful, too full of stifling trepidation to take the next step beyond the light and the darkness, to follow the sound of the bells, to see what awaits us at the end. We are too afraid to go."

Jaune swallowed again. "Well… if you don't want to leave… then what do you want?"

As one, both armies answered. "VENGEANCE."

That one word practically thrummed with anger and hatred, enough to almost shake the ground.

"Revenge against the foul beast who did this to us," said General Gwyddion. "And you can help us. You can bind and summon spirits and souls, adding them to your own. So, take us then, good syr. Use us."

Jaune took a step back at what they were asking of him. "But… you… you'd just be trading one prison for another."

"No," Lord Bult hissed, as he shook his head. "We would not be prisoners. We would be your weapons. Your Legion of the Lost and the Damned, and we would stand as a bulwark against any and all who would call themselves your foes. This, we would choose of our own volition. Our choice."

That is correct," said General Antarga. "We would do this freely. All we ask in return is that you help grant us our vengeance against the monster who cursed us. Against Korvold. Promise us this. Promise that you will help us to kill him, so that you may chain him to you just as he so chained us. Accept us, so that we may achieve our revenge."

Jaune drew himself as tall as he could, and nodded, while his left arm began to softly glow. "I will," he said. "I promise."

He then raised his arm, palm facing them and fingers spread wide. "I accept you," he said.

The two armies of the dead all nodded in gratitude. "THANK YOU, NOBLE KNIGHT. WE SHALL SERVE YOU WELL."

Following that utterance, both ghostly armies dissipated and collapsed into floating clouds of blue and black. Then, before anyone could even blink, like a rushing river, they all funneled into his arm and the agony….

IT

WAS

TOO

MUCH!

He felt, as much as he could through all the pain, the ground as he fell. Endless streams of images and sounds and tastes and memories all flooded his mind. Was someone screaming?

Oh, wait… that was him.

It was too much. It was too much. IT WAS TOO MUCH!

… "Jaundice! Jaundice!"

… Ardenvale looked lovely when the sun shone off its walls. She knew she would see it again. She had made a promise, after all…

… He would go to the Mirror and reveal his secret. Come what may, he would be a knight, and then he would be free of it…

… "Without you, I am nothing, but because of you…"

… "Do you believe in destiny?"

… "I don't have to run anymore…" destiny"FORGARENBRIGthewaterwaslovelyIloveyouLETMEDIEthestorymustendsometimeforqueenandkingdomeverythingeverythingeverythingitwastoomuchtoomuchtoomchiwillfindthe CAULDRON wewillwalkingalongtheriveroncemoreIwillprovemyselfbeforethe IRENCRAG IamloyalIhaveprovenmyselfwithinthe CIRCLE letthe MIRROR decidedhisfatecomewhatmaytoomuchtoomuchtoomuchshewouldmovethe GREAT HENGE toomuchtoomuchThat'sallyou'lleverdowhatisahuntsman'spurpose EMBERETH you'llneversucceedjustgiveupTOOMUCHTOOMUCHTOOMUCHJustGiveUpJauneit'sgettingpatheticTOOMUCHTOOMUCHEVERYTHINGEVERYTHINGEVERYTHINGTOOmUchtOOMUcHWHOWASHEWHOWASHETOOWHOWASHEHEWASAFAILUREJANDICEJANDICEMUCHTOOMUCHTOOMUCHTOOMUCHLOSERTHISISTHEPARTWHEREYOULOSEIWANTEDTOBEAHEROTOOMUCHTOOMUCH-

"Jaune."

Everything almost paused, and all he saw was hair the color of flame, and two eyes like bright emeralds.

She kissed him, and her lips tasted of fire and metal and ash, and it was wonderful…

"I want you to know that I'm proud of you."

As those ten words sounded out amidst the cacophony and madness, Jaune felt two cool hands upon either side of his face. "So many voices and things inside that pretty little head of yours, human," Emry's voice said. "You poor thing. Such a burden your magic will force you to bear. This should help with all the memories, keep them shelved neatly away for now. Wouldn't want you to lose yourself. Though, you will owe me for this."

A moment later, a strange sensation alit upon his forehead, almost like… a kiss. It was warm and cool at the same time, felt through the pain.

As the sensation spread all across his head, the downpour began to lessen. Bit by bit, it slowed… down into a stream, and then like the sensation of a warm shower… and then a trickle… and then nothing at all.

The pain began to subside, and as he stopped shaking, Jaune took a breath after gasping breath, his chest deflating and expanding over and over and over again. He was still him.

He was still him.

He blinked and saw that he had been held down by Torbran, Auborun, and a few others, while Emry had… healed him.

With a groan, his limbs were released and he slowly, slowly, sat up, wiping at his face as he did so.

His head… really hurt. But the pain fading.

"The flood of memories you have absorbed, along with those spirits, they have been neatly sorted away, or at least stoppered for now," Emry said in her teasing tone, as she lounged next to him. "It was wonderful, what I managed to catch a glimpse of. So much knowledge now resting inside your head. So many secrets…"

Her expression grew wistful for a moment and then turned serious as she lightly but firmly tapped him on the head with a talon. "But understand this; that dam will eventually burst, especially if you don't attend to it. The memories must be confronted and understood, sorted out by their own host. Still… I think I shall be keeping a neat eye upon you, Syr Jaune of Arc. Indeed, I shall."

She then graced him with a grin. Jaune smiled back at her weakly. What else could he do?

They set up camp in a relatively dry area of the river, so that Emry could join in, and had a celebratory meal of rations. After everything… it all tasted fucking delicious.

"To Jaune of Arc," Torbran bellowed, his drink sloshing in his tankard.

"To Jaune, the spider-slayer and the ghost-queller!" Thumbletack declared as he raised his own small thimble of drink. "Three cheers!"

Even the elves joined in.

It all felt a bit embarrassing to Jaune, and yet, at the same time… it felt kind of nice.

"Well done, lad," Torbran said, as he clapped Jaune on the back.

"Yes, it was… quite well thought out, how you came to the solution to ending this curse," Auborun said, as he tapped the side of his staff. "Strange, how the simplest solutions are oft those that never occur to us."

Jaune took in another breath. "Peace should always be the first solution," he said. "And war always the last. It's what… it's what my grandpa used to tell me, anyway."

Torbran nodded at that. "Yer grandpappy sounds like 'e was a right smart ole bugger."

"Yeah… he was."

The camp lapsed into a content silence, as the company laughed and ate and drank and reminisced.

"Who is Korvold?" Jaune then asked.

At the mere utterance of that name, all the good cheer dissipated. It felt as if even the crackles of the flame grew quiet.

Auborun tapped his fingers against the side of his staff almost nervously and then spoke. "Korvold is the name of an ancient and rapacious evil, brought about by curses and folly and wrath," he said. "He has haunted the Wilds for a very long time, devouring and destroying all who stand in his way, and taking the rest back his so-called 'kingdom.' He is a vile and dread beast, and all who have gone up against him have ended up within his gullet, or burned to a smear on the ground. To pursue him would be a fool's errand of the highest order."

Jaune mused over the elf's words, and then… let loose a humorless chuckle. "Good to know I'm a fool then," he said. "At the very least, I guess that means he's where I'm going next."

That sent the whole company looking at him in bafflement. "Are you mad?" Aurborun asked. "Did you not hear a thing I just said? To seek him out is to all but assure your own end."

"Yeah, I heard," Jaune admitted with a shrug. "Been called worse in the past. And yeah, I might be, and it might be. I won't deny that."

He then looked down at his left hand, and clenched it tight, though he felt nothing of it. "But right now… there's a hell of a lot of people in my head, all of whom want vengeance against that bastard. I did promise, after all, and you all saw. Guess you could call it a knightly vow, even. Can't break a promise, after all, right?"

Nobody said anything for a moment, in the wake of his small declaration. Then, Emry let loose a small laugh.

"Very brave. I know I liked you for a reason," she said. "The things in your head, they interest me, to say the least."

"And you will have my support as well, Syr Jaune," Gringolet added.

"And me too!" Thumbletack declared, with a proud beat of his wings.

Torbran looked at Jaune a long moment, and then shook his head and let loose a bellowing chuckle. "Ye might very well be bloody mad, Jaune. I like it."

He extended his hand. "Of course, I would highly recommend that ye join us back to the Red Fells first. If nothing else, you look like you could still use a good meal or three… and not tae mention some serviceable gear as well. Yer practically wearing scrap-metal, lad, for ember's sake."

"Indeed," Auborun said, as he extended his own hand. "Though I cannot offer arms or armor, I can offer you sincere gratitude and support of both myself and my people. Rest assured that you shall have the friendship of the elves of Oakhame from here on, and should you ever find yourself within its halls, it shall be as a most honored guest. All will remember greatly the name of Jaune Arc, Knight of the Wilds. This I promise you."

Jaune smiled and shook both their hands firmly. "I'm honored," he said to Torbran. "Thank you," he then said to Auborun.

Emry laughed again and clapped her webbed hands together. "If I didn't know any better, I would say that I was witnessing the beginnings of something most grand. An epic tale, perhaps. How fun. But first; here."

Saying this, she gently grabbed his right hand, and ran three of her taloned fingers down the inside of his forearm. As she did so, Jaune felt a warm sensation where her finger had been. A moment later… a golden latticework tattoo in the shape of her blade blazed to life upon his skin, running from wrist to the inside of his elbow.

"A little gift and blessing, for ending this curse," Emry said, as she gave the tattoo a pat. "It holds within it the idea of an ancient blade I once found in the deeps; powerful and yet unfocused. It will need a proper conduit to truly manifest and cut for more than a moment; a blade that is truly your own, and since all you have is a broken sword and the blade of another knight… well, the good dwarf there should be most helpful in that regard."

She then patted his cheek teasingly, and her hand was both warm and cold. "Now, should you ever require my help, or should you perhaps just wish to talk, simply find a large body of water, and speak my name three times. Though, I will require payment, perhaps some of the things that are now resting inside that pretty little head of yours. Still, I look forward to our next meeting. Good luck on your future endeavors, Syr Jaune of Arc."

With that, she snapped her fingers, and… floated. She floated up and backward over to the middle of the river. Then with a final wave, she dove deep into its depths.

Jaune and the others watched it all happen silently. Then, Jaune broke the silence. "So… that just happened," he said, as he examined his… new tattoo.

"It most certainly did," Gringolet said. "The gift of an undine is a rare thing to witness being given. And she has helped you thrice, it would seem."

"Indeed," Auborun said, as he stroked his tattooed chin. "Though, be wary nonetheless. Undines are fickle creatures at times… as are their gifts."

Torbran just chuckled, and slapped Jaune on the back heartily, nearly driving the air from Jaune's still-ragged lungs. "Aye, but come hell or highwater, good Jaune here will have the backing of Red Fells, no matter what. Plus, the wet fish lady there just gave me a hell of a good challenge tae make ye a right mighty and grand weapon. Ahh, but the mind is already a'churnin'. Still, for the moment… we shall celebrate and remember!"

After that, a good portion of the late afternoon was spent erecting a monument to both of the ghost armies, with Jaune supplying the names of all those who had fallen, dredged from his… new memories. The night was spent both in laughter and in somber remembrance for the fallen members of the company. Afterward, and for the first time in a while, Jaune's sleep was dreamless and almost quiet…. Really the best he'd had in who knew how long at this point.

The next day, the company departed the ancient battlefield and headed towards… wherever it was that the Red Fells were located. As they all rode away, the morning sun had begun to shine with a kind and gentle light through the renewed trees.

It was the gentle light of a new day, full of opportunity… and full of promise.

To Jaune, it seemed like something of a good omen…

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A/N: Hope you all enjoyed that. Remember to like, watch, comment, follow and review. And to my Spacebattles fans, I bid you make much discourse.