The Black Knight

by Twisted Fate MK 2

In ages past, an Undead sought answers in the land of gods. Then he sought destiny. And then he sought out mercy, for those who he honored. Then he finally sought an eternal rest, and found it as kindling for the First Flame. Or so he thought, as he instead found himself awoken and entombed in ash and stone eons later. And now he must find something else to seek out.

2. Chapter 2

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The Grimm were every ounce the bestial filth young Nia's memories told him they were, once one got beyond folk tale and myth. White bone plate stood out starkly against short, bristling black fur. And maws filled with razor sharp, bright white teeth each half as long. Some were nearly as long and thick as his own fingers, on the great bearlike abominations - Ursa, Nia's memories offered readily - and yet more others bore thick, curved tusks they tried to use to gouge him with.

"But what have you aside numbers and bestial rage?" He asked, raising his shield with the barest amount of effort to catch the Ursa's downcoming claw. It snarled over the rim of his shield and he sighed, thrusting his greatsword up and into its chest and then yanking it to the side, tearing the monster in half with contemptible ease. "They are nothing…"

To an Undead, at least.

But to a common man, he was certain a beast like that could be lethal.

Petty men were so… Fragile, in a kinder word.

"Forty two." He sighed, looking across the expanse from the broken mine's wall to the woodland some forty paces away.

The ground was ruined, torn up by weapons fire from the White Fang's attempt at liberation and then by his own fight against the Dark-ish beastlings. And they were of the Dark, there was no doubt for that. He'd had enough experience first-hand, from time-lost Oolacile to his experiences down in the dank depths beneath Firelink Shrine. He felt the corruption and taint then, and he felt it now, clear as day if… Faded.

Distant, and strangely restrained.

How, he could not say, but… He could sense the taint and its restraint both so clearly in the Souls flowing out from the Grimm as he fought.

Taking a seat beside the broken gate that let into the mining compound, the same he'd seen in his pilfered memories, where the coming Faunus had been lined up before being marched in, he sighed. And watched the smoke of Grimm corpses drift lazily up to the blue, clear sky, filled with the warmth and light and love of the sun.

"So very beautiful…" He murmured, watching it descend over hours as his Souls rejuvenated body and arms both. His muscles eased and strengthened as life returned to them in full truth, and he channeled more to his equipment, strengthening what was left of them after so much time.

It would do, until he had proper materials to hand at the very least.

Sighing as dark began to truly fall, he rose and looked to the mine and then to the forest. So many dead...

A pyre was needed. A pyre, and a song for the dead.

XxX-XxX-XxX

Ozpin was a slave driver…

But then, Qrow had known that for a long while now. Long enough it was just a part of the job, so he couldn't really complain. And what was Ozpin supposed to do except bother him, anyway? It wasn't like he had an army of Huntsman under Leo, and a literal army under Ironwood, he could call on whenever he pleased. No, no, better to wake him up at four in the morning with the emergency line.

Rolling over to read 'Salem Fuckery' from his contacts was a hell of a way to get a day going, though…

At least it wasn't very hard to find what he was looking for when Oz finally gave him some coordinates to run on. The coordinates were rough, and ranged over a couple kilometers of mountains, forests and cliffs, but according to Ozpin, that was the best he had to offer. Which was well enough, really. Hell, it was better than he'd been given to go off of on more than one occasion. Once, Ozpin hadn't had anything more than 'it happened in Vacuo' and he'd still sent Qrow flapping off to look into it.

He'd found it in the end, but…

Damn it, just because he was good at his job didn't mean the old bastard had to make it harder. But if Ozpin felt magic somewhere… Well, they needed to know what the hell was going on.

Magic didn't exactly grow on trees nowadays, after all...

The region was remote, to say the least. Filled with a handful of mining camps run by the SDC scattered around the mountain like shitty little jacks. Mostly Dust mines, obviously, but there was an iron mine in the far north too, and copper veins near to it that the SDC tapped for raw metals it sold to refiners. Most of the money was in the Dust, of course, but it wasn't very 'SDC' to just allow other companies to do silly things like 'make money'.

Gods damned SDC...

But the SDC didn't own all the land, surprisingly enough. No, there were a handful of villages dotted along the winding paths and roads that honeycombed the expanse of mountainous woodlands. Most of them subsisted off of hunting and logging, but a couple closer to the coast, where the land flattened out, fielded crops, too. And the largest one, Kukurim, served as a factory-city for one of the bigger metal manufacturers in Mistral, refining and shipping out the metal the SDC sold them in bulk. Steel and copper wire were sent up to Mistral to be made into…

Well, probably t.v.s, for all he cared about that.

Most of the villages were less than welcoming to the strange Huntsman coming around asking questions. And those that weren't so bad either didn't know anything, or weren't willing to tell him about it. Which made sense - talking bad about the SDC out here could very well be a death sentence. But one village had heard something, and they didn't seem put out about talking about it.

Which was a lucky break...

"Yeah." The head of the village's watch, an old man with greying hair and a missing eye, said quietly. "Happened out that'a way, at one o' them hell mines. All kind'a Grimm and shootin'. Fang, too."

"Yeah?" Qrow growled, raising an eyebrow and holding up his Scroll, "Mind markin' it out on my map? Unless you know it's designation…"

"I don't on either of 'em." The man had laughed, waving for him to hand over his Scroll. "Hand it over, I'll jot it down fer ya. Should be pretty obvious when ya see it, though."

"Yeah?" Qrow hummed while the man worked at his Scroll, "Why's that?"

"Because the place is wrecked." The man answered with a shrug and a dark laugh as Qrow took his Scroll back, "No worries, you'll see."

Truer words had never been spoken...

"It looks like a warzone out here, Oz." Qrow grumbled, perched on a rock outcropping high above the ruined mining camp. "Walls are trashed, half the mine's collapsed, broken security mechs everywhere… And some psycho burned all the damn bodies, too."

"All of them?" Ozpin asked, sounding… Intrigued, somehow, rather than disgusted. "As in, every single one of them? Guards, miners, Humans, Faunus- All of them?"

"Yep." Qrow grunted, looking at the wide swathe of scorched earth outside the walls of the mining camp. Every last one of 'em. There are weapons laying everywhere, too, and plenty of scrap an' Dust to go with it."

"They didn't loot, either…" Ozpin murmured quietly, sighing and going on after a moment of thought, "So that rules out a bandit tribe with one of those four, then. Bandits might burn or bury the dead, but they certainly would not leave valuable materials behind. And the Grimm?"

"Plenty signs of 'em, and reports from the locals, too." Qrow answered quietly, "But none here, now. So whoever was here last they killed everything and left. Or the Grimm didn't bother them..."

"That's not something I've ruled out." Ozpin agreed, "But why would she take an interest in a simple mine…"

"No clue." Qrow shrugged and sighed, standing so he could pace along the edge of the cliff and watch the forest, "I had a good look through the mines, too, and didn't see nothin' but tunnels and rock. Some signs of fighting, too, scraps of armor, droids, weapons, that kinda stuff. But this isn't my field."

"I know it is not." Ozpin nodded, tapping a knuckle against his chin for several long, quiet moments of thought. Finally, he ordered, "Stay in the area, Qrow. Ask around about Salem's cohorts, if you're able to do so quietly. I will be sending Doctor Oobleck along in short order. If he can find anything in the mines that might be able to explain what I sensed, then we can continue our investigation."

"Oobleck?" Qrow's brows furrowed, "You're bringing him into the circle…?"

"No, no." Ozpin waved him off easily, chuckling under his breath, "I'm going to send him to investigate strange Grimm activity in the mines as a Huntsman. If something interesting is there, he'll find it easily enough without me telling him to look. Then you and I can use that to continue the investigation, and find out what happened here."

"Alright." Qrow sighed, "I'll find somewhere good to shack up then."

"No, don't wait there." Ozpin said quickly, before Qrow could end the call. Instead he raised an eyebrow and Ozpin said, "Go to Mistral, and see if you can turn up anything else on our little mystery here. Doctor Oobleck will be there soon enough, and you can meet him after he arrives, but if this is as important as I suspect…"

"Nothin'll come from lollygaggin'." Qrow nodded, "Mistral. Got it."

"Very good." Ospin nodded, and then smiled roguishly, "And… Good luck, Qrow."

With that, the old man ended the call and Qrow sighed and growled a curse. Watching the trees he frowned and took a single step off the ledge, falling and shifting from man to feathered flier and soaring away on the warm winds.

Something felt wrong here…

XxX-XxX-XxX

"Welcome to Mistral, and I hope your travels went well." The tired looking clerk said as he approached one of the dozen or so little kiosks set in front of the city's wide gates. The man was young but obviously weary, dressed in a dark brown and maroon uniform his pilfered memories told him was the uniform of Mistral's military dress, eyes locked on a screen beside him while he shuffled on no doubt sore feet and asked, "What brings you to the Kingdom?"

"Business." He rumbled quietly, looming over the booth while the man's eyes trailed up his massive, armored, unfortunately filthy armor to his masked face. "I come in hopes of a rest, and, perhaps, meeting some comrades of mine while I look for my next venture."

"I-I see." The young man nodded, taking a breath and asking, "Papers, please?"

"I fear I lost my papers in a battle some time past." He not-quite-lied, smiling behind his mask. Truth be told, he had lost his papers. Only, far before he reached Lordran. Still, the half-truth would suffice, and he saw the man grimace sympathetically. "I was hoping there would be some… Way to deal with that?"

"I can issue you a lower tier travel permit on a cheap Scroll." He nodded, turning to work on his terminal idly. "The Scroll will be registered, so I'm obligated to mention you can't get another soon."

"Why is that?"

"Mainly to prevent hoodlums gaming the system to get a bunch of cheap Scrolls." The man answered quietly, pulling a drawer open and setting a cheap little metal thing on the kiosk table in front of him. While he worked, he talked, "A few years back, a small gang of them did that. Used it to coordinate hitting a caravan. Ever since, the Council is more careful about that sort of thing."

"Wise enough, I suppose." He answered honestly, "Better to be safe than to be sorry, no?"

"Yep." The man nodded, drawing out the word while he finished working. Pointing up at a little box set over the kiosk, he said, "Look there, please."

"Alright-" A flash blinded him, for the shortest second, and only the woman's memories kept him from panicking and smashing the little machine. Growling, he turned back to the man and leaned forward to rumble warningly, "I don't like surprise flashing, young man."

"R-Right, sorry." He nodded, tapping the Scroll and smiling nervously. "T-That was, uh, for your profile picture on the S-Scroll. It'll do the job on the lowest tier, until you can get your stuff replaced properly."

"Right." He took the little thing carefully and slid it into a pouch hanging off of his waist. Smiling, he asked, "May I enter, then?"

"Yes." The guard nodded, looking more than a little relieved that their meeting was coming to an end. A fact which amused the Undead warrior more than a little, used to such reactions by now. "If you try to pass through the districts into an upper tier, the kiosk workers will stop you. But you have free reign over the lower tier, and may leave the Kingdom proper if and when you want to."

"I see." Useful information, that. "Then if that is all, I will be on my way."

"Have a good stay in Mistral!"

Inside, the lower tier of Mistral was essentially the same as he would have imagined it, and as she remembered it. The buildings here were old and worn, their cracks covered by wooden reinforcements that were themselves covered in graffiti and vibrant cloth that did its best to hide the sad, often drooping buildings. The roads, some of which were barely more than muddy paths winding naturally between buildings, were no better. He could see the old paving under the ruin, but cracked and broken as it was, much of the stonework was as liable to break an ankle or stick a wheel as to do much else.

He put his weight behind crushing those stones down, on the off chance they might have come to harm someone else in future.

Navigating the weaving and winding pathways of the lower tier, his instincts told him, could lead to those less inclined to navigating such places lost. Wandering until they found help, or bumbled their way into freedom from the labyrinth. Even she had trouble telling him which way to go until, eventually, he stumbled onto a wide, open square of sorts that ran along a river for easily a hundred yards. Every inch of which was thronged by eateries and seats, and stalls filled by workers who did all they could to respond to the throngs of comers and goers flitting to and from a long series of river-docks that adjoined the riverside marketplace, using the massive river like the natural highway it was.

The beauty of so much… Life brought him to a stop for a long time.

And, he was entirely unashamed to admit, to a tear or three as well.

"This is why you died, Brothers mine…" He murmured, thinking of so many faces and visors, shields and swords, that he had seen broken in his un-life. "The sun, it shines. The people, they live. And the world, it has healed. How… Absolutely beautiful."

After a moment, he found a low, crumbling wall behind a few stalls and sat on it, spending his time simply… Watching the people pass by. Few paid him any mind, and the wall seemed part of a building so long since fallen as to have been replaced by the massive trading square entirely, so he was left in peace. At least until small, anxious hands tapped at his armored side, drawing his attention down to the dirty face of a young girl.

"A-Are you a Huntsman?"

"After a fashion." He nodded, "What need have you of me, my child?

"U-Um…" She trembled, eyes flicking to the ground for a moment before she took a breath and held up a shiny blue rock for him. "T-This is a gem I found in the river! W-Will you take it and h-help me save my friend?"

"Your friend is in danger…?"

"S-Some Humans took him." She nodded, and now that he looked at her he could see the smallest horns peeking out from under her vibrant red hair, just over her ears. "T-They said that since he couldn't p-pay for a sleeping spot, t-they'd take him out to the woods an p-put him to work."

"Hm." He rumbled, rising slowly and turning to her, sword resting on his shoulder and shield on his arm. Setting the latter aside, he held his hand out and rumbled, "My sword is yours, my child. Show me to your friend's takers."

"T-Thank you!" She beamed, setting the very obviously plain, if blue, rock in his palm and pointing at an alley. "T-The warehouse is just through there, b-by the river-docks!"

"Lead the way, if you please." He nodded, slipping the stone into his mystic pouch and taking up his arms. "I shall liberate him, you have my word."

She nodded and then she was gone, slipping through the crowds like a fish through water towards an alley some twenty feet away. He followed, parting the sea she had slipped through by virtue of his great size. And, of course, thanks to his great weapons, easily larger than a third of the people he passed by.

The alleyway was small and filthy, sided by trash cans and ramshackle hovels very obviously slapped together out of whatever the poor living there had to hand. It pained him beyond words to do it, but he ignored them, following the young Faunus as she went. He rounded one corner and found the other end of the alley, overlooking a massive water-side, likely partially floating, warehouse.

"He's in there!" She said, pointing at the building, "I-I don't know where…"

"Rest easy." He murmured, stepping by and crossing the narrow pathway to lay a hand on the wall of the warehouse. "I shall find him."

The alley he had taken hadn't let out on a road, but instead on another, slightly wider, alley that ran behind the warehouse. There were no visible doors, though, nor windows that he could reach to get into the building. And he didn't particularly fancy looking for the doubtless busier front end of the warehouse to make his entrance, for all of the rather obvious reasonings.

Instead, he set his weapons to the side and rested his hands against the old bricks of the wall and, using his fingers as minute shovels, crushed them, hurling the crumbs of brick to either side behind him as he dug. Slowly, quietly, he ripped apart the bricks themselves as he made his own door. It didn't take more than fifteen minutes to dig out the stonework, digging it out like a normal man might soil with a shovel.

He hated the delay, but he knew that simply smashing through would only bring attention to him, and put the child at risk.

Eventually, though, he stepped through the hole he'd made into a long, narrow office of some kind. Cubicles filled the space, stocked with computers and shelves and machines to help those consigned to them do their work. But all of it was covered in enough dust and grime and cobwebs that he was certain it had been at least a year since anyone worked in any of the cubicles. And lucky for them, too, as he could practically feel them sucking his soul away just in being near to them.

That any could stomach service to such a place, he would not have believed were it not for her memories.

A faint, dying light flickered over a sliding door across the room and he made his way over to it to try and open it. It rattled but resisted him and, looking through the cracked and filthy window of the door, he could see a chain that had been threaded around the door handle to keep it locked and shut. But he couldn't see anyone, so…

The chain was stronger than the door handle, and snapped the latter off with a muted click when he yanked it to the side. He stepped out and into the empty hall and hummed, looking to either side for anyone who might have heard his entrance, "Well, that was certainly easy enough. Too easy…?"

Maybe, and as always, his instincts screamed dire warnings of dark hallways and their habit of hiding thieves and assassins, and small blades in between his ribs. He'd experienced more than enough of those to be wary. Shield locked against his side and ears open, he picked a direction and began to walk the old, dust and cobweb filled halls slowly.

Nothing came of his anxieties, though, and for that he was grateful.

"...shipment needs to be out of here as soon as possible." A man's voice reached him after a few minutes of walking, as he neared a corner. Standing at it, he closed his eyes and listened closely. "

"Why?" Another, a woman this time, asked worriedly. "Are the police sniffing around?"

"Of course not, dumbass. The hell do you think we pay 'em so much for?" The man scoffed a laugh while, as quietly as a small giant in full plate and chain could manage, the old Undead leaned around the corner.

There were two of them at the end of a cleaner hallway with better lighting than the one he was in. They were both wearing the same robe-like clothing he'd seen the Mistralians wear throughout the city, but each sported a stubby little firearm of some sort, with a wide, short barrel. Beyond them was what looked like a warehouse of sorts, from which the sounds of a small number of men working echoed faintly.

This was where he needed to go… And their backs were to him, the both overlooking the warehouse and sitting on old, metal boxes that had been heaped at the mouth of the hallway. His armor was not made for it, and he was loath to take the path of a coward, but if Lordran would do one thing to all who entered it, it was break those who survived for more than a week of their haughty self-indulgences and honor when it came to battle. He had kept much of his, but then, these were not worthy of honor in any event.

And he who struck first won, after all, and these curs would offer him none of the honor he was so tempted to offer them.

"Don't call me a dumbass." The woman growled as he stalked forward, fingers flexing along his great weapon.

"Then don't be a dumbass."

"I wasn't!" She argued hotly, "I was just… I dunno, worried, I guess. You never know when some shiny-shoed twit from the upper tiers will come down to try and fix shit around here."

"Yeah, I guess you have a-" His boot struck the floor and his armor chinked and tinkled quietly, and the Undead saw the man stiffen and turn. "What was th- Hagh!"

He lunged the last couple feet in a flash, shield rim snapping out and caving in the man's head like so much tissue paper. He collapsed without another sound and the Undead warrior pivoted on a heel, sword whipping through the air as she sucked in a breath to scream and her bright green eyes widened. His sword caught her at her hips and cleaved through, carving her into two pieces that tumbled to either side silently.

Sighing, he stood and looked out at the warehouse, searching for any that might have seen him. But, "No one noticed… Good."

"Hey… Asshole…" He blinked and turned, raising his sword high as the woman, already dead but too stubborn to let go yet, raised her weapon. As his own came down, crushing her skull outright, her weapon cracked loudly, sending a cluster of shells slamming into his face and throat as his sword came down.

He stumbled back, snarling his surprise and hacking on blood and metal as cries of alarm echoed around him. Instinct brought his shield up as a heavy hammer of some kind came down, clanging heavily as the bear of a man wielding it swore. Angling his shield so the hammer slid to his side, he thrust the sword up and into the man's chest, shattering through bone and flesh as easily as air.

He hurled the man aside and raised his shield, warding off the staccato bursts of a rifle firing on him as he made his way towards a trio of men in ratty clothes. They raised small, blocky handguns on him to add volume of fire, but most were stopped by shield or armor. And what weren't did little more than sting on his flesh, like bees biting him.

"I grow weary of this." He growled, watching them retreat further and further as rounds ricocheted away, peppering the crates and walls around him. "And any one of those could have the boy…"

He sensed no life from them, of course, but that wasn't a sure thing. If he was unconscious, it might not be possible to sense him over the city's natural ambiance of life. And he could not use fire here, the wood and dust would catch like tinder. So…

"And lo, for the clerics foes stood ahead in rank abreast with steel of chest and spear of wood and iron." He rumbled, feeling the familiar rush of power coursing through him as he leveled his sword at the three gunmen and recited the words he had been taught so long ago by his rounded friend. "And for Lord's mighty steed o' charge, he bellowed forth 'Strike them down, oh heavens high! Emit Force, lest noble charge should die!'"

Heavenly white light washed along his sword and crackled, before rocketing out light a bolt of lightning. The man in the middle shouted a warning just before it struck him, blowing him apart and cracking the ground below him, as well as shattering the wood around him. His fellows scarcely fared any better, the crackling power of the Miracle ripping through them and hurling them aside as it detonated. He felt both die a moment later as he stood and sighed, shaking his head.

"Fools." He rumbled, "They must have known they stood no chance against me. So why…"

No one answered him, of course, and he set about his search properly, murmuring, "And so the Lady, shining sun, laid hands upon the wounded one. And by her hands, the kindly one, she did see harm come undone."

He sighed as the lesser Miracle soothed his mild injuries and reached out, ripping open one of the crates. Inside were weapons and materials, stacked neatly but so mismatched as to be obviously stolen. The next was much the same, only, food. Then Dust, that strange little material that so many had died for where he had awoken.

Finally, as wood and metal gave way under his powerful hand, he heard a little shriek and stepped aside.

A boy, no larger than one of his legs, missed him by several inches and planted the sloppy shiv he'd made into a slab of wood instead of the Undead. Wrenching it out, the boy turned to him and hissed, long, forked tongue whipping out angrily at him. The Undead danced back as the boy pursued, swiping and slashing with all the viciousness of a cornered animal that knew its time was coming.

"That will do me no harm." He pointed out, adding, when the boy only hissed again, "And I believe I was sent to find you. Let us not be shooting our saviors, hmm?"

That, at last, made the boy pause. For a long second, he seemed to consider him, before he murmured, "Who by?"

"A young Faunus girl." He answered simply, resting the edge of his bloodied shield on the floor. When the boy only seemed more suspicious, he offered, "Her hair was a bright red, and she had small horns above her ears. I did not ask to see them, however, so I do not know what manner of Faunus she is."

"Crim…?" He murmured, making the Undead flinch and shiver at the word and the memories that tried to pour out for it.

Forcing them down by force of practiced will, he said, "As I told you, I did not stay to examine her. She asked my aid, and my aid I gave. Her name is unimportant to me, in the moment. Only your fate was."

"Fine." The boy said quietly, "Lead me outta here. B-But you stay in front. Any funny business and I'll shiv ya."

"That won't…" He sighed and turned, nodding for the boy to follow him and offering, "Oh, very well then. Come along, child."

It didn't take long to lead him out the way the Undead had come, though he felt a distant echo of sorrow for how unperturbed the boy was by the corpses of his foes that he had left behind. He'd barely paid them any mind, except to stop and try to search them. A grunt and a glare had ended that though, and they had made uninterrupted time after that.

"Jason!" Crim cheered as soon as the boy slipped out of the hole the Undead had ripped into the stone. She leapt on him and, surprised, the boy collapsed with her on top of him. "I-I thought you were gone, you dumbass! What were you thinking?"

"That we'd have food tonight if I pulled it off!"

"You moron! I prefer you to food any day, and you know better than to rob the smugglers!" She squealed, crying into the boy's shoulder while he unsurely looked to the Undead.

"Don't ask me." He shrugged, turning and trundling off without concern.

"Thank you Mister Hunter!" The girl called after him, drawing him to a stop. Turning, he looked over his shoulder to see the girl smiling widely and waving to him. Her smile was so wide, so innocent…

So precious, and it drew forth memories not his own.

"He sought to feed them…" He murmured, reaching into his storage pouch and drawing out an old, long unworn ring of his.

It was a useless thing to him, leaving him feeling drained and frail after he had recovered it from the Hydra and tried it on, but the emerald at its center was no doubt worth something. And he could be relatively certain that they would not wear it, rather than selling it on to fill their pockets and bellies.

"Children." He called back, turning and tossing it to them. "Eat well!"

One of them caught it and, as he left, he heard the boy exclaim, "T-This is an emerald! A-And gold!"

As they chattered excitedly, he smiled.

XxX-XxX-XxX

"You're absolutely certain it has magical properties?"

"Mhm." Qrow nodded, sitting in the room he'd rented and looking at the little ring with a frown. "Hard to explain, but when I'm near it, I can… Feel the magic, if you catch my meanin'."

"I do, yes." Ozpin nodded, "This feels the same as your… Gifts?"

"Nah, not quite. Close, though. Just enough to compare, but..." He shrugged setting it on the nightstand and looking at the old man's curious visage on his Scroll. "You put out a kinda energy, an' so did Rae. Dunno why, but it felt like… Output."

"Output?"

"Mhm." He nodded, "This feels like it takes instead o' givin'.

I see…" Ozpin nodded, "Have you put it on?"

"Hell no." Qrow laughed, the sound short and bitter even to his own ears. "I dunno what the hell it'd do if I did."

"Fair enough." Ozpin sighed, thinking for a long moment before nodding and ordering, "Keep it on you, and safe. When the doctor arrives, have him date the ring. Say you found it in the mine, or whatever you like. When I get it in my hands here, at Beacon, I will do a more… Specific inspection of the item."

"Got it." Qrow nodded, "Anything else?"

"That will be all for now, my friend." Ozpin smiled, "I have Initiation to prepare for, after all. And a young, silver-eyed brunette attending."

"Keep her safe, Oz."

"I will." He nodded, "Take care, Qrow. And good night."

"Yeah." He sighed, closing the call and laying out on the cheap mattress. Turning a look on the shiny little thing he sighed and pocketed it, doing his best to ignore the sickly feeling it gave off while he tried to sleep.

Tried being the key word, between the mess he'd seen in the old warehouse and the weird feeling the ring gave off.

XxX-XxX-XxX

In this chapter, he used Emit Force and Heal Excerpt. The ring he gave away, though he didn't name it, is also the Dusk Crown Ring. A solid ring, for some builds, but not for a tanky boi like our Undead.

Also, for Emit Force, you're met to sing it like a rolling lyric, where one word rolls into the next smoothly.

As always, this is a side-project, written purely in idle and free time, and only possibly thanks to my Supporters. So expect imperfections, but I hope you enjoyed it!

XxX-XxX-XxX

Trevor Bernadette :

Hope you enjoy!

Kalifal :

How do you mean? If you mean the Undead Boi, he's meant to talk a bit oddly.

White Volder :

Я рада что тебе нравиться! Я надеюсь, что вы продолжите делать это по мере продвижения вперед! Простите за грубость в формулировках, используя Google Translate.

Smokey Panda :

XD