[ "Attention: As of Friday at 0800 hours, the settlement of Greenleaf fell under siege from multiple hostiles of unknown origins. Hostiles appear to be animalistic in nature, sporting durable bone carapaces, and are capable of executing basic military tactics in order to circumvent and overwhelm established defenses. Requesting reinforcements from the nearest PDF base or immediate extraction before we are overwhelmed. Civilians are advised to avoid the surrounding area and nearby settlements should fortify their defenses against further possible attacks. Attention: As of Friday-" ]
It was just past midnight, early into Sunday morning. For the past two hours, Qrow could do nothing but listen to the chilling warning playing over the onboard speakers of the Bullhead he commandeered at Ozpin's request. As much as he tried to distract himself by thinking about something, anything to prevent his mind from drifting back to carnage that was surely awaiting him upon his arrival, there was only so many times he could readjust his headset and argue with his pilot as they flew towards what was left of the settlement. It was a solemn, thankless job, but one that needed to be done nonetheless which few other huntsmen could carry out the task on their own. Just another 'perks' of being a professional huntsman under Ozpin's direct employment, not that Qrow would say that to his face.
[ "Attention: As of Friday-" ]
What happened to Greenleaf wasn't anything extraordinary. In fact, it was a story almost as old as time itself. A small village, housing less than a hundred determined souls hoping to peacefully live outside of the safety of a major city, had come under attack by one of the many ravenous hordes of Grimm prowling Remnant. No one would particularly notice or care about their untimely demise, although Qrow felt the inhabitants of Greenleaf wouldn't agree, if they were still in any position to do so.
[ "Attention: As of Friday-" ]
Villages like Greenleaf didn't fall because they had escaped the Grimm's attention since the day they first built their homes. Maybe they had a retired Huntsman protecting them, the villagers once safe and unassuming lives coming to a surprising and messy end after their stalwart defender was bested by one of the many sources of chaos found outside most major settlements. Maybe they had been attacked by bandits, left for dead by the marauders before a few wandering Grimm were lured by their suffering, the monsters finishing off whatever survivors the bandits had left behind. Maybe it was just that their luck finally ran out and whatever miracle that had allowed the settlement to take hold on the outskirts of the Emerald Forest had finally run out.
[ "Attention: As of Friday-" ]
Whatever the reason, the end result was still the same. The only thing Qrow found surprising is that there was still a young man or woman ,it was hard to tell from the tone of their voice alone given how utterly defeated they sounded, had been able to send one final message to the world. Furthermore, rather than a desperate plea for help, they instead made a calm request for assistance and warned anyone nearby to spare them the same fate. Perhaps that poor soul who he was listening to nonstop had been a Huntsman or Huntress-in-training, much like his nieces...
[ "Attention: As of Friday-" ]
Qrow did his best to throw that thought aside before it could distract him. There were many ways a Huntsman could distract himself from the fear of walking through a recently ravaged settlement in order to purge a few lingering Grimm. Thinking about what would happen to his nieces, to his family, should Patch suffer the same fate as Greenleaf was certainly distracting enough to take his mind away from the mission at hand, but for all the wrong reasons.
Still, he had some time to refocus himself, which is exactly what he intended to do. All he needed was to-
[ "Attention: As of Friday-" ]
- make that stupid announcement stop playing on repeat!
"Will you shut that thing off already!?" Qrow angrily shouted at the Bullhead's pilot.
"Sorry, but whoever managed to get that warning out decided it was important enough to feed it into Vale's emergency broadcast system." The pilot informed him as she lowered the volume of her transport's onboard speakers to comply with the disgruntled Huntsman's demand as best she could.
The warning still continued to repeat, now just quietly enough to preserve what few brain cells the veteran huntsman had left. Ones that weren't already drowned in alcohol at any rate.
"So what? Does that mean you can't turn off the radio or something?" Qrow asked her, rubbing his hands over his haggard eyes in an attempt to breathe some life into himself now that the effects of his flask of liquid relief were finally beginning to fade away.
"Yes." She answered him as professionally as the circumstances allowed. "And in case you were wondering, everyone without a direct connection to Vale's CCTS tower who can pick up a radio signal in this area is probably stuck listening to the same thing as us, if that makes you feel any better."
It didn't make Qrow feel better, but he did at least find some solace knowing that he wouldn't be making any follow up trips to nearby settlements in the near future, if the nearby villages were smart enough to prepare for whatever attacked Greenleaf. All the better too, just in case his semblance decided to act up in the worst possible way. If they had taken the warning seriously, he wouldn't need to provide aid to any nearby villages after he finished surveying the remains of Greenleaf, if there was enough of the settlement left behind to tell it ever existed in the first place.
"Oh, well that's just great." The gruff Huntsman groaned. "You mind telling me how much longer it will be until we get there? I swear, if I have to listen to that announcement for another freaking hour…"
"We've almost arrived. You should be able to see Greenleaf from the portside window as soon as we pass this last hill." The pilot told him, letting out a sigh in relief. Whether that relief was at being able to be rid of the annoyance that had been pestering her with constant questions or finally reaching their destination, only she knew and she would never tell.
"Uhh yeah… port..." Qrow muttered to himself as he racked his mind together, trying to translate the word into a language he could understand while mostly sober. "That's on the…"
"That would be your left." The pilot finished for him, successfully anticipating his confusion, much to the huntsman's embarrassed gratitude.
True to the pilot's words, as soon as the Bullhead lurched over the final hill a small clearing holding the desecrated remains of what Qrow could only assume was Greenleaf two days prior came into view. Although it was hard to identify in the poor lighting provided by the shattered moon, the huntsman could still make out not only the charred remains of several buildings, but also several shadowy figures stalking through the ruined streets. Whatever fires had ravaged Greenleaf when the Grimm first appeared, whether it was in a futile effort to drive them away or an unfortunate accident that occurred sometime afterwards, there was nothing Qrow could see that was worth salvaging. That didn't surprise him. If the announcer of Greenleaf's fate had reported the time of the attack correctly, then it had been two whole days since the settlement had fallen victim to the Grimm.
What did surprise him, however, was the presence of a familiar, dispassionate voice. It crackled to life over the Bullhead's speakers and Qrow's own earpiece as well, breaking his focus away from the ruined settlement below him.
"Valkyrie, identify yourself or be fired upon." An eerily calm voice demanded.
"Are you the one who issued that warning?" Qrow fired back, blurting the first thing that came to mind in shock rather than any real desire to learn about the survivor speaking to him.
"Identify yourself immediately or you will be considered a threat to the people of Greenleaf and treated as such." The survivor demanded once more in the same monotone from before.
"Worthless drunk." The pilot muttered under her breath, just loud enough for both parties listening to perfectly understand her every word. "I am Elizabeth Ember and with me is Huntsman Qrow Branwen. We're here to help."
"You're my reinforcements?" The survivor inquired coldly.
"Yes, we're here to evacuate survivors from Greenleaf." Elizabeth answered.
"You're late." The survivor stated. "How many soldiers were you able to gather?"
"Just me." Qrow grunted. "Ozpin figured one huntsman would be more than enough to help clear out whatever Grimm were left."
The survivor let out a sigh after processing this news for a moment. "At least you came with our extraction vehicle."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Qrow grumbled at the survivor's blatant dismissal of him.
"That means I expect you to be just as useless as the other PDF regiments I've served with, Huntsman Qrow." The survivor answered matter of factly.
Qrow was about to give the unknown survivor a piece of his mind, but they cut him off before he said anything he could regret.
"Pilot, land your Valkyrie by the southern border of the settlement in five minutes. Prepare for a hot take off as soon as everyone has boarded. Make sure the incompetent you have on board doesn't get you killed. I'll be waiting for you with the other survivors if you land. If you don't see us by the time your loading bay doors have dropped, don't bother waiting for us." The survivor ordered, their calm demeanor still holding strong.
Qrow couldn't idly listen to what he was hearing any longer. "Nobody is getting left behind! Now shut up and wait for-"
"Time is not a luxury we have." The survivor interrupted. "The only reason we will not arrive is if we are dead. Do not sacrifice yourself trying to salvage our corpses, Huntsman Qrow."
Elizabeth found herself wanting to agree with Qrow for once, but the sound of snarling beats and distant gunfire silenced whatever protests she was ready to let loose.
"The others are under attack again. I'll clear a path for the civilians under my care and keep it open for as long as I can. Don't wait for me once the others arrive." The survivor said, carrying a hint of annoyance rather than desperation like they expected to hear from them.
Without anything else to say, the survivor cut off his radio signal and left their two rescuers in stunned silence. Qrow was the first to break free from his stupor, growing angry at how the survivor had brushed him off like some third-rate Huntsman.
"Hey, Liz, mind if I open one of the side doors? I need to get down there and make sure that idiot doesn't get himself or anyone else killed." He asked as he picked up his scythe, Harbinger, and walked over to the Bullhead's closest exit.
"Y-yes... wait, what?!" The pilot stammered, suddenly realizing what the Huntsman was asking her. "There aren't any parachutes on board! Why would you want to jump from the Bullhead without one?!"
"Don't worry about me, sweetheart. Let's just say that I have my own landing strategy right here." Qrow said as he patted his weapon, smirking at the annoyed groan he got in response.
For the first time since being separated from the rest of their regiment, crash landing on a confusing new world, and encountering what they could only assume to be shadow clad daemons, Private WSTN-483274-SR finally felt at ease. The forests, as densely packed with shadows as they had been with trees, had done little to comfort them when they first arrived on Remnant. The change of scenery upon entering Greenleaf did little to convince the soldier that the world they landed on was any safer than the other battlefields they had the honor of fighting on. That speculation was soon proven to be correct in a matter of hours.
The Guardsman's initial opinion about the planet swiftly changed once the village was ambushed by dozens of Grimm the day after their arrival. The subsequent waves of daemonic looking abominations did little to discourage the soldier from finding their new environment much more enjoyable. The lengths that the strange looking creatures had gone to destroy the village, somehow starting a fire among other things, was a noticeable improvement in the Private's eyes. Even now, as a trio of Beowolves charged at him on all fours, their howls barely audible over sounds of gunfire coming from elsewhere in the ravaged village, or perhaps because of it, the trench coat wearing guardsman finally felt that they could finally relax.
The calmness that came with this newfound serenity made it all too easy for the Private to line up a well placed kill shot on each of the feral monstrosities with his meticulously maintained and modified lasgun. The Grimm didn't even bother to stagger their reckless charge or use the wreckage of the surrounding villages to cover for their approach, further trivializing the effort required to put them down.
The first two Beowolves collapsed to the ground in a mess of tangled limbs from one lasbolt each, the charred stumps above their necks where their heads had been mere moments before the obvious source of their collapse. The third Beowolf was lucky, as the armor covering its skull absorbed most of the lasbolt's heat and glowed red hot. The injured Grimm let out a cry of pain but it did not back down, instead lunging at the one that had dared to slay its two brethren.
The Guardsman didn't attempt to run away from the Ork sized abomination as they assumed other, lesser guardsmen would have done. Instead they responded by running at the Beowolf with the same ferocity the beast charged them with, their lasgun held tightly and ready to receive the enemy.
The first thing to go through the Beowolf's head was glee at seeing its prey running straight towards it with only a gun. The last to go through the Beowolf's head was the bayonet that had been firmly affixed to the end of the Guardsman's lasgun.
Unable to immediately retrieve their weapon from the Beowolve's corpse, the Private reached for the laspistol by their side and scanned their surroundings for any other threats they might have missed. Upon finding no more daemonic looking creatures coming after them, they returned both of their hands to their lasgun and pulled their bayonet free from the skull it was embedded in. The Guardsman brought the serrated edge of his steel bayonet up close to clean it off, but with the night not yet over and more Grimm prowling Greenleaf, they quickly abandoned the idea knowing it would be a waste of time cleaning something that was bound to be soaked in the blood of their enemies once again.
With the most immediate threat dealt with, there was nothing in between them and the extraction point they ordered the strange looking Valkyrie to arrive at. A lesser guardsman would have ran for safety, but the sound of gunfire was still coming from the opposite direction had not yet lightened up. The Private didn't need to think twice about what needed to be done before rushing to the aid of their comrades from the previous two days.
The Private did not expect the civilians would do the same despite having fought alongside them as ferociously as any other member of their regiment, but that didn't matter. The people of Greenleaf did not bear the same burdens, the same duties, the same sins as the Guardsman did. The Guardsman's purpose was to sacrifice themself so that others would not need to die in their place, and that was precisely what they intended to do.
Moving as quickly towards the civilians they dared, carefully navigating through the village's ruins to avoid any potential ambushes the Grimm possibly prepared, the Guardsman ran towards the ramshackle defenses they and the civilians had managed to set up between the waves of Grimm that attacked them. While their defenses had managed to hold up well since their construction, they would not hold out forever. That was precisely why the Guardsman chose to leave the safety the tattered defenses provided when the Grimm first attacked, as someone was needed to scout for supplies if any of them were to make it another night.
That role, of course, fell to the only volunteer willing to leave the last place of sanctuary Greenleaf had to offer. After the last band of brave souls tried to leave in an attempt to avoid another night fighting for their lives, no one was willing to be the next person to run into the waiting arms of the Grimm. The sight of their fallen neighbor's mangled corpses being carried by the horde of Grimm the Guardsman spotted soon afterwards stopped anyone else from leaving what little safety their sanctuary provided or voicing any other dissent over the supposedly harsh methods the Guardsman employed.
After only a few seconds of darting between cover, Greenleaf's last sanctuary against the Grimm came into the Guardsman's sight. An assortment of Beowolves, Ursas, and Young Deathstalkers almost obscured the last bastion left for humanity in Greenleaf. There were well over a dozen of each that tried to tear down the hastily nailed together planks of wood and stacked furniture that protected the remaining inhabitants of Greenleaf, far more than the Private knew he had ammo for.
The Private didn't care; they were still alive, still had their lasgun, still had their laspistol, and they still had their M39 entrenching tool. They would not be able to take down all of the Grimm that were coming dangerously close to breaking through the last line of defense protecting the civilians, but that didn't matter. The Private could kill half, and the civilians could kill the rest. Anything else didn't matter.
The Private's chances for survival?
Didn't matter.
The civilians' chances for survival after the Private's sacrifice?
Didn't matter.
There was a chance, and the Guardsman was more than willing to sacrifice themself to give the others a chance to survive. It was a worthy sacrifice and a fitting end in the Guardsman's eyes. Far better than most they had witnessed, if they were any judge.
The Grimm were packed tightly together, each of them trying to squeeze into the narrowest of gaps that had opened up in the civilian's defenses since the Guardsman's departure, giving the Guardsman ample time to dial their fire select from 'single shot' to 'full auto' and make the most of their limited ammo. Sure, it meant there was a higher chance their hits would leave their victims alive due to the lower intensity and less accurate firing mode, but there would be three times as much of the low quality lasbots directed into the mass of bodies before the Private. Quantity would prove to be a quality in and of itself by that point.
With that thought in mind, the Guardsman prepared to unleash the last few shots they had left into the oblivious horde, but before they could pull the trigger they spotted an unknown threat coming in fast and loud from above. The Guardsman was unable to identify who or what was plummeting towards the ground, appearing to stall their freefall by firing a high caliber stubber or bolter if the occasional bark of erratic gunfire truly was coming from them. The only thing the Private was certain of was the unknown's intended destination, that being somewhere in the middle of the horde of Grimm they too were planning to assault. The Grimm didn't seem to recognize this unknown either, nor did they appear to be intending to cooperate with them if the bloodthirsty howls they unleashed towards the falling threat were any indicator.
What allegiances did the unknown threat have?
Didn't ma-
One of the Grimm that had stopped to stare at the new threat collapsed to the ground without a head without warning, the now headless Ursa crushing several smaller Deathstalkers underneath its weight. The Guardsman knew none of the civilians possessed any weapons that effective against the Grimm. The only person, or maybe thing, that shot could have come from was the rapidly approaching airborne threat plummeting towards the horde of suddenly confused Grimm beneath them.
Perhaps this new threat's allegiances did matter after all?
Whatever or whoever they were, they did not appear to be any ally of the monsters besieging the civilians under the Guardsman's protection if the death throes of several other Grimm were any indicator. That didn't mean that the unknown was the Guardsman ally, but that didn't mean the Guardsman was about to waste a useful distraction.
Not wanting to wait any longer than they already had by making any more unnecessary speculations, the Guardsman indiscriminately opened fire into the panicked mass of shadowy black bodies. Caught in between the lone Guardsman's barrage of lasbolts, the odd stubber-like rounds the civilians continued to fire towards the beasts, and limb severing projectiles the airborne unknown was unleashing; ten shadow clad, lasbolt and bullet ridden bodies collapsed to the ground before several Grimm chose to charge at the Guardsman while the others continued their assault against the civilians.
The Private was amused to see these feral monstrosities charging them after realizing that they were the most immediate threat the Grimm could deal with. They rewarded the monstrosities by changing the lasgun's fire select to 'burst' to make the most of whatever charge still remained in its power pack. Out of the ten Grimm that deemed the Guardsman the most vulnerable target, five of them were cut down by trios of tightly packed lasbolts before the Guardsman's lasgun finally ran dry.
Three Beowolves, an Ursa, and a Deathstalker were all that survived. Each one of the Grimm were determined to be the one to cut down the Guardsman who had slain so many of their kin, and with only a few scarce feet in between them and their prey it seemed as if the Guardsman had no hopes of survival.
The Guardsman recognized his own likelihoods of success against them and refused to back down in the face of overwhelming death. They were not afraid to die, not when there was still work to be done and a plague of inhuman enemies to be purged.
The Guardsman didn't dare move from their position as the Beowolves closed in for the kill far ahead of their less agile allies. Instead of fleeing for their life or matching the Grimm's charge with one of their like the previous pack had done, much to the Guardsman's relief. The Guardsman quickly threw their rifle over their shoulder and around their kitbag with practiced ease, knowing the bayonet attached to it wouldn't come anywhere close to giving them a mortally lethal or embarrassing injury, and pulled out the laspistol and entrenching tool hanging from their belt in order to receive their remaining attackers.
The Beowolves lunged towards the Private with as little coordination as their initial charge, each Grimm struggling against one another so that they could be the one to send the brave Guardsman before the Golden Throne. In their rush to claim the Guardsman's life, the Beowolves tried to leap over one another so that they and they alone could be the one who pounced on top of the Private. Their lack of coordination gave the Guardsman plenty of room to roll underneath their gleaming claws and rapidly empty their laspistol as the Grimm overshot their target in order to trim down their numbers before the other shadowy abominations could join the fight.
One Beowolf collapsed after a lucky lasbolt blew off the top of its head, but the other Beowolves were able to escape with only a few superficial wounds thanks to their thick bone armor absorbing most of the damage from the Guardsman's other shots. As the injured Grimm took a moment to lick at their wounds, the Private turned their attention behind them just in time to turn away from the radiant yellow stinger that would have pierced through their heart if they had reacted a moment later. Without any time or ammo to line up a shot at the scorpion-like Grimm that failed to kill them, the Guardsman used their momentum to pivot around and swing the base of their M39 entrenching tool's head down on the Grimm's skull. The Guardsman's quick thinking was rewarded with a satisfying crunch as the Deathstalker went limp and thick black ichor gushed out from between the cracks of the bone armor protecting its surprisingly squishy skull.
With two of their initial attackers and another two still recovering from their injuries the Guardsman wanted to take a moment to enjoy the results of years of training paying off once again, but they had not yet forgotten about the final Grimm that had yet to try and claim their life. The Guardsman turned back towards the civilian's defense to find that their paranoia had been well warranted as a big, meaty paw slammed into their chest and sent them flying into the remainder of a nearby stone wall. The tortured stone bricks crumbled underneath the Guardsman's weight, burying them underneath the rubble and leaving them immobilized as their attacker, a towering Ursa Major, lumbered its way over towards them.
The Guardsman tried to pull themself free, struggling against the weight of the stones burying their arms and legs to no avail, as the mighty Grimm took its time walking up to them in an attempt to savor the hopelessness emanating from behind the Guardsman's expressionless mask. To their credit, the Guardsman didn't give up in the face of certain death, so much as they accepted their imminent demise as an irreversible fact. They did not cry, did not shout, and did not plead for their life, not that any of those would have done them any favors. Instead, Private WSTN-483274-SR recognized that their time had come but still continued trying to free themself in an attempt to stave off their inevitable end, if only a few more seconds.
Not that it would matter.
Even if the Guardsman could free themself, there was only so much an M39 entrenching tool or a bayonet could do against an Ork sized bear. The Guardsman knew this almost as well as the Ursa did. The ursine Grimm took its time strolling its way over to the pinned Guardsman, hoping to at least hear a single cry of fear from its victim. That fear never came, not as it first closed the distance between its prey or when it was finally one step away from crushing the Guardsman underneath its clawed feet. The only thing the Ursa received was silent, stalwart defiance from the indifferent expression on the Guardsman's gas mask as its wearer tried and failed to liberate themselves from underneath a pile of bricks.
Seeing no reason to prolong the Guardsman's doom, the Ursa let out a bellowing roar and reared up on its hind legs, raising its forelimbs high above its head as it prepared to crush so it could move on to the other humans cowering behind their weak defenses. The Guardsman didn't bother flinching as they prepared for what would surely come next, choosing to only close their eyes and wait for-
*Schwing*
...an end that would apparently not be coming from the Ursa, courtesy of the Astartes sized scythe that cleaved the Ursa Major in two before it could seal the Guardsman's fate. Surprised by this unexpected development, the Guardsman found themselves staring at their savior, slovenly dressed and panting heavily as he stood over the two halves of the Grimm he had slain. For one precise moment, the Guardsman thought it would have been better if the Ursa had killed them rather than enduring the shame of having a disgrace for a human being save their life. That moment passed the instant they heard the nearby howls of Grimm and started to struggle against the rubble pinning them to the ground.
"Phew, looks like I came here just in time." The huntsman sighed in relief, shouldering his weapon as he studied his most recent kill. "You're lucky that Ursa didn't take your head off instead of knocking you through a wall… well, maybe not that lucky since you crashed into the only wall in town that was still in one piece."
"Huntsman Qrow." The Guardsman stated impassively as they stared up at their rescuer. "I told you to stay with the extraction vehicle."
"Yeah, and you can thank me for saving your sorry ass later." Qrow grumbled as he lowered himself to one knee and started to dig the Guardsman out from underneath the rubble.
"I didn't ask for your help." The Guardsman responded, assisting the Huntsman as best they could after one of their arms was freed.
"But it looks like you definitely needed it." Qrow fired back.
"Doesn't matter." The Guardsman replied. "Are the civilians still alive?"
The Guardsman was finally able to liberate himself from the remaining few bricks from the wall he had crashed through, quickly rising to his feet and letting out a hiss of pain as they stood back up. Qrow cringed at the sight of them, thinking their aura to have been previously broken by the Ursa and knowing just how hard the Guardsman had to be pushing himself to stand up on his own didn't make it any better to watch them pass by with a slight limp to their otherwise steady gait.
"Yeah, they should be boarding our ticket out of here any second now." Qrow said, shaking his head as he tried to focus his attention on the Guardsman themself rather than their injuries. "They'll be fine, how are you holding up? That Ursa looked like it did a real number on you."
"Doesn't matter." The Guardsman answered, brushing aside the hand Qrow raised in an attempt to help them back to their feet. "Did you finish off the other two daemons I wounded?"
Qrow never heard of any Grimm called 'daemons', but he figured the Guardsman might have been rattled from whatever injuries they had earned from defending Greenleaf before his arrival. Even if that wasn't what the Guardsman was talking about, there was something about the antique looking soldier before him that did not make them seem like they were the most knowledgeable, or even sane, person he met today. That didn't mean Qrow wasn't willing to humor them, though. He could at least do that for someone who could fight as well as some registered huntsmen he knew.
"No, what daemons should we be looking out for?" Qrow asked, just barely stopping himself from calling the Guardsman 'kid' despite their shorter stature making it feel right for some strange reason.
Two furious roars answered the Huntsman's question, the two injured Beowolves who made their presences known cautiously prowling towards both him and the Guardsman. Despite their injuries, or perhaps because of them, the wounded Grimm were not yet ready to flee from Greenleaf, not while the one who had wounded them still lived.
"Those daemons." The Guardsman answered, holstering their drained laspistol and flourishing their entrenchment tool in preparation for whatever the vengeful Grimm had planned for them.
"Oh, Beowolves." Qrow said, taking a step in front of the Guardsman. "This'll be over in a moment. Just stay behind me and you won't have anything to worry about."
"I can take them on myself." The Guardsman insisted, their voice still carrying the same eerie calmness it had since they had first spoken.
"Yeah… I don't think your shovel's going to be useful against a Beowolf, kiddo." Qrow told them.
The Guardsman didn't dignify the Huntsman's comment with a response, instead extending the handle of his entrenching tool, turning the definitely unshovel-like implement into perhaps the most questionably shaped battle-axe the Huntsman had ever seen.
Before Qrow could voice his own opinions about the absurdity of fighting Grimm with a shovel, the Beowolves both leapt into action. Learning from their previous mistake, the two monstrosities attacked the human duo from both sides, forcing Qrow to abandon the Guardsman in order to cleave through one of the Beowolves without being pounced on by the other. His Grimm was slain with ease, and as he turned around to line up a shot on the other one with Harbinger, fully expecting to see the Guardsman either fleeing for their life or fighting a losing battle, he was instead met with one of the most comical yet terrifying sights he had ever bore witness to.
With what looked to Qrow like practiced ease, the Guardsman ducked underneath one of the Beowolves claws that sailed inches above their head and aimed for the Grimm's kneecaps with the back of their shovel. The Huntsman winced in sympathy as the Beowolf's knee let out a sickening *crunch* and the Grimm let out a tortured yowl as it toppled over, barely catching itself with its arms before its leg gave out. The Guardsman didn't relent as their opponent tried to recover, coldly swinging their weapon overhead and smacking it against the Beowolf's back in one fluid motion, the sound of broken bones and pained whimpers filling the air once again as the unfortunate Grimm collapsed onto its stomach. Unable to find the strength to fight back, the Grimm watched its killer with the same horrified fascination as Qrow as the Guardsman placed on the cutting edge of its shovel on the back of the Beowolf's neck and stomped down on it with all of their might, mercilessly decapitating it.
With the deed done, the Guardsman scanned their surroundings for any more potential threats, and upon finding nothing else that looked ready to attack them, brandished their weapon in front of the stunned Huntsman once more.
"This is not a shovel. It is an M39 entrenching tool; effective at digging trenches, breaking bones, cutting through limbs with either its serrated or sharpened edge, and serving as a CQC weapon with or without being extended." The Guardsman announced as they collapsed the handle of their sho- entrenching tool, and returned it back to its rightful place on their belt.
"Uhh… sure. Whatever you say." Qrow said, unable to think of anything else to say after witnessing someone kill a Grimm with a sho- entrenching tool, of all things, right before his very eyes.
"Good." The Guardsman said, just as dispassionately as everything else they had mentioned. "Now let's leave this place before any more of those things show up."
A picture was worth a thousand words.
That was what some people would say whenever they saw an image so awe-inspiring, terrifying, or otherwise unexpected that no amount of words could hope to do it justice. That had certainly proven to be the case with the picture Qrow had sent Ozpin of the self-described Private upon departing from Greenleaf with the few survivors who were still alive by the time he had arrived.
At first, the headmaster of Beacon Academy didn't think much of the trench coat and gas mask wearing individual when Qrow first sent him a picture of them. Plenty of retired soldiers took up residence in settlements outside of the kingdoms' major cities. It also wasn't unheard of for an antique suit of armor from the Great War or some other battle to show up decades or centuries later. Ozpin thought he was looking at the latter, but once he inspected the birdlike symbol emblazoned on the Private's helmet and shoulders, Ozpin was momentarily stuck with fear.
In all of his many, many years protecting Remnant, he had seen that two headed bird worn by only a few memorable individuals. Sometimes these individuals had been willing to support his crusade once they had learned about it. Sometimes… sometimes Ozpin found himself dirtying his hands once again protecting the world from a threat he hoped it would never learn about. The headmaster wasn't sure which one of these the soldier would prove to be, but he intended to find out as soon as possible.
The soldier's arrival forced Ozpin to request a few favors from the staff of Beacon in preparation for their imminent arrival. The ancient book Ozpin had finished browsing through, a 'primer' that was hundreds of pages thick and anything but uplifting as its title suggested, was one such favor. Glynda Goodwitch's presence was another favor, one that she did not completely approve of given the way she scowled at Ozpin after he woke her up in the middle of the night without much of an explanation. There was one more person waiting beside Ozpin in his office that he requested, a certain long winded that Glynda was still struggling to find a reason for being there with them.
"I must say Ozpin, this is quite exhilarating, preparing to meet a potential new student from outside the four kingdoms. Considering the book you asked me to retrieve, I can understand why you are so eager to speak with them." Bartholomew Oobleck said, both the headmaster and mistress only caring to hear the end of his most recent ramblings.
"You brought the both of us here to interview another late admission?" Glynda asked Ozpin. "What is it that you are not telling us?"
"All I can say for certain is that the individual Qrow will be arriving with will be of interest to not only our *ahem* cause, but of some interest to Professor Oobleck as well if I am not mistaken." Ozpin cryptically explained, casually sipping on his mug of hot cocoa while watching Glynda pinch the bridge of her nose.
"That still does not explain why any of us are here or why we have to interrogate this new student now." She countered, hoping for Ozpin to explain himself further.
"Actually, knowing anything more about our soon-to-be guest before meeting them would be counterproductive to whatever it is we would intend to discuss." Oobleck chimed in. "Of course, that's if the individual in question is willing to hear what Ozpin has to say before doing anything… rash."
"Ozpin," Glynda said, the cold tone she spoke the old headmaster's name sending a chill down both the headmaster and Oobleck's spines. "What are you not telling us?"
"I could tell you, but I think it would be best if I let Professor Oobleck give you his impression instead." Ozpin offered, giving the huntress a mischievous smile as the chatterbox Professor gladly stepped up to the challenge.
"Thank you, Ozpin. Tell me, Glynda, how much do you know about the kingdoms that came before the four that are still operating today?" Oobleck asked her, straightening his tie and smiling at the chance to have someone actually pay attention to him for once.
"I only know about Mantle, which went defunct after the Great War before Atlas rose up to take its place." She said, unsure of where Oobleck's question would be leading her.
"Wonderful! It's nice to see that some people choose to remember our world's history, unlike many of the students of today." Oobleck lamented.
"Anyways, as you can probably guess, Mantle is not the only kingdom to have fallen in Remnant's long history. Well, as much history as we were able to preserve." The talkative sullenly continued. "While the names, leaders, lands, and almost everything else about these ruined kingdoms and empires have been lost to time, some of them have been preserved thanks to the archives kept by the academies…"
"I'll take it that the book Ozpin asked you to bring him has to do with one of these kingdoms?" Glynda asked, her curiosity thoroughly peaked.
"That seems to be the case. I cannot think of any other reason why Ozpin asked me to look for something in the library's restricted section." Oobleck shrugged. "I must say, as Beacon's resident history expert, I'm more curious as to which kingdom this potential student might be a potential ancestor of. I have a few guesses given the section I found the book in, but I wouldn't dare to make any conclusions before seeing any evidence for myself."
"And it would appear you will be able to do just that." Ozpin announced as he pointed to his office's entrance, the elevator doors before them finally opening to reveal the individual the three of them had arrived to inspect.
Whatever impressions Oobleck and Glynda had of the mysterious arrival, they were quickly dashed upon inspecting the battered soldier they saw following behind Qrow as the duo strode forwards. The trench coat and gas mask wearing soldier's movements were almost robotic compared to how relaxed the older, taller huntsman they marched behind. Neither the gathered headmasters nor history professor could identify which kingdom the soldier belonged to based on their uniform alone. The same went from most everything else about the soldier's identity, although the various bandages wrapped tightly around their torso and limbs, partially covering the occasional crimson tinged tear in their outfit suggested that they were no stranger to pain. The slight limp to the soldier's step as they followed Qrow into the room further cemented this thought in each of their minds, not a single one of Beacon's staff daring to question how or why they had continued to fight once their aura had been broken, most of them unaware that the soldier wouldn't have known what they were talking about they asked.
Qrow appeared to be an exception, only asking to ensure the individual they were escorting was okay. "Look kiddo, just because you can still fight doesn't mean you shouldn't let a doctor take a look at you."
"I'm fine. I've been trained in first aid and tended to my superficial wounds as protocol dictates." The Private insisted, then added as if it was an afterthought, "The doctor from Greenleaf cleared me for duty too."
"That wasn't a doctor, that was a veterinarian! Just because she said you would live doesn't mean it's okay for you to walk around without getting checked out at a hospital first!" Qrow shouted at him, everyone else's eyes widening at that particular comment.
"Then that means they didn't know what they were talking about and I should ignore their opinion in addition to yours." The Private responded dispassionately.
Qrow opened his mouth to say something, but after having failed to talk any sense in the man… woman… whoever the suicidal idiot was, he could only sigh in exasperation at the Guardsman's stubbornness. The huntsman was about to say something, but a polite cough from Ozpin caught Qrow's attention.
"Oh… how long have you guys been standing there?" Qrow asked.
"Long enough." Ozpin smiled cordially, gesturing for Qrow and the Guardsman to take a seat in front of his desk.
Qrow sheepishly took a seat as requested, unlike the Guardsman who marched in front of Ozpin's desk before saluting the headmaster and standing at attention.
"Uhh, yeah… sorry I didn't tell you this earlier, but I kinda had to tell our Private here that you lead Remnant before he agreed to come here." Qrow whispered to Ozpin. "I think our friend here has a couple of screws loose or something after what happened to Greenleaf."
"I don't think that is the case Qrow, but thank you for telling our… soldier, what you did." Ozpin said and started digging around in one of the drawers of his desk, much to Qrow's confusion. "I should be able to convince them to work with us fairly quickly because of you."
The Headmaster of Beacon spent only a few seconds searching before his eyes lit up and he pulled a small, golden necklace out of his desk. Ozpin's colleagues didn't think much about the I shaped pendant with a skull imprinted on the center when he revealed it to them, but the Private reacted defensively at the very sight of it. The Guardsman's hand reflexively shot towards the laspistol at their side, the startled professor and headmistress beside Ozpin responding in kind by grabbing for their own weapons. If the Guardsman knew or cared about the sudden hostility being sent their way, then they did not choose to show it. Instead, they kept their hand tightly grasped to the heavily worn grip of the laspistol, the weapon trembling ever so slightly as the Private re-evaluated the entourage before him.
"Inquisitor, sir." The Guardsman stated, offering a stiff salute with their free hand. "I did not know the Huntsman was a part of your entourage."
Not wanting to inquire into the soldier's drastic change in demeanor and still hoping to avoid any unnecessary conflict, Ozpin adopted a more authoritative tone and quickly fell into the role he had prepared hours earlier. "Do not be afraid, soldier. You have nothing to fear from me so long as you continue to be cooperative."
"Of course, Inquisitor, sir." The Guardsman replied, still clinging onto their sidearm, oblivious to the strange looks both they and Ozpin were receiving from everyone else in the room.
"Good. Although this is a little late, I would like you to refer to me as 'Headmaster Ozpin' whenever possible. I would prefer my identity to remain a secret." Ozpin told the petrified soldier before him.
"Yes, Headmaster, sir." They responded.
"Perfect. Now, if the two of you could please act a little less hostile to my guest?" The headmaster asked Glynda and Oobleck, who slowly lowered their wand and thermos respectively while keeping their eyes firmly attached to the Private's every move.
Qrow simply figured that whatever was going on was nothing that needed to concern him and pulled out his flask figuring Ozpin probably knew what he was doing. The headmaster couldn't help but smile at how much confidence the dusty old crow placed in him, especially since he felt like he was the one who had the least confidence in his plan despite being the only one who knew about it.
"Now, before we get any further…" Ozpin said, pausing to crack open the book on his desk to one of the many pages he had marked earlier. "Please tell me your rank, name, regiment, and homeworld."
"Homeworld?" Oobleck muttered. "I know your guest's accent is a little strange, but to suggest he is from another planet is-"
Before the motor mouthed professor could threaten his charade, Ozpin raised a hand to stop Beacon's resident history expert from saying anything unnecessary.
"Silence." Ozpin ordered, putting on an uncharacteristic flair as he did so. "I'll fill you all in on the details after I am finished talking with our guest here. Do your best not to interrupt us from here on out."
"O-oh. I see. Sorry. I won't let it happen again." Oobleck sheepish stammered.
The Guardsman gave the talkative professor plenty of time to break his promise before introducing himself as asked. "Private First Class. WSTN-483274-SR. Death Korps of Krieg 483rd Siege Regiment. Krieg." They fired off in rapid succession.
"Ah, very good. Very good." Ozpin mused as he glossed through the book until finding the marked page he was looking for.
It was only once he found the particular section the soldier had unwittingly directed him to that Ozpin realized that his instructions had not been followed as explicitly as he thought.
"I do believe I asked you for your name, not your serial number, private." Ozpin told the Private, putting a slight hint of annoyance behind his otherwise firm voice, an act that the Private instantly picked up on.
"Yes, sir. My name is my serial number like all sons and daughters of Krieg, sir." The Private said, before noticing the pitiful look Ozpin and the other Beacon staff were sending his way and adding, "You can also refer to me as 'Winston' if you need to, sir. My commissar and several civilians felt more comfortable calling me by that nickname."
"O-okay, Mr Winston." Ozpin sighed, caught off guard by Winston's sudden announcement and taking a moment to recover as well as read a few paragraphs of the book on his desk to avoid a repeat mistake.
The headmaster was unable to reach the end of the page he started on without grimacing, nor was he able to finish the entire section he intended to read before closing it in disgust.
"It looks like you have had a very hard time before you arrived here." Ozpin told his guest, dropping his more authoritative tone and replacing it with a much more natural kindness. "Can you please tell me how and why you ended up in Vale?"
"Of course, sir." Winston replied. "My saviour pod crash landed on a beach, miles away from the settlement your Huntsman found me in. I do not know how I ended up in Vale, sir, or where Vale is. I thought I would have joined my regiment when I boarded the life vessel, not find myself before an inquisitor."
"Can you tell me more about your regiment, Winston?" The headmaster asked him, pulling up his mug for another draw of hot cocoa. "Should I be expecting visits from any more of your friends?"
"That would be impossible, sir. They're dead." The Guardsman replied, his previously emotionless voice suddenly gaining what seemed to be an unexpected emotion from the unfortunate soldier. "All of them are dead… except me."
A deafening silence followed his announcement, the only exception coming from Ozpin who was trying his best not to choke on his drink while Qrow couldn't help but to blurt out his condolences. "Woah, I'm… sorry to hear that?" He said, failing to think of anything better to say.
"They're happier that way." Winston said, returning to his usual monotone once again.
Ozpin was the first one to recover from the shock of hearing his guest's announcement, and quickly pounced on the opportunity to regain control of the conversation. "I'll take it that you are in need of a new regiment to serve with?" The headmaster inquired.
Although both Glynda and Oobleck were stunned to hear Ozpin ask such a callous question, they couldn't help but to notice how Winston suddenly seemed to loosen up. They especially took note of how quickly his hand left his laspistol to come up for a rigid salute. "Yes, sir." He responded.
"Well, I have the perfect position in mind for an…" Ozpin hesitated for a moment, thinking of the least damaging thing he could say before settling for, "...experienced fighter, such as yourself, Winston. But before I can assign you anywhere, there are two questions I have to ask you."
"Ask me anything, sir. I will try not to disappoint you." The guardsman said, hand still held high against his helmet.
"Very well." Ozpin said, folding his hands around the chain of the golden inquisitor's necklace and leaning forward as he began his brief interrogation. "Does anyone else from the Imperium know you are here?"
"That would depend on how you define 'here', sir." Winston replied, trying his best to be of use to the headmaster of Beacon.
"Any of the four major kingdoms of Remnant, the world you are on." Ozpin clarified.
"No."
"Good." Ozpin said, cracking a narrow smile as he prepared to ask the only question he truly needed to know, the one he had been dreading to hear the answer to. "And what are your opinions on the faunus, Winston?"
"What is a... 'faunus', sir?" Winston said, rolling the foreign word off of his tongue with as much caution as he would when speaking the Ruinous Powers' names.
"Hold on, how the hell do you not know what a faunus is, kid?" Qrow suddenly interrupted, much to Ozpin's terror. "There were as many faunus as there were humans that we saved from Greenleaf."
"Oh, the abhumans." Winston shrugged, blissfully unaware of the sigh of relief Ozpin let out as the soldier continued. "As disgusting as they are to look at, I do not fear nor hate them like others from my regiment would have. They are as human as I am, sir. At least, that is what I believe."
As much as Ozpin wanted to comment on the first part of Winston's answer, he let it slide for now. Considering how his meeting with the golden necklace's previous owner went, Ozpin felt that asking for anything more so soon would have been too much.
"Is there anything else you need to know, sir?" Winston asked, fidgeting at his collar as he turned to look at the two instructors beside Ozpin with apparent unease.
"No, I think that will be more than enough for now." The headmaster calmly stated. "Qrow, please take Winston to one of the spare rooms available for the staff tonight and keep a close eye on him. There's something I'll need to discuss with Glynda and Bartholomew-"
"PROFESSOR!" The chatterbox professor shouted.
It was only when he took a moment to realize what he had done and who he had said it to, namely the amused look Ozpin gave him, that Oobleck had enough dignity to look embarrassed. "Sorry, but I didn't waste all those years earning that title to have it ignored." He said defensively.
"Sure, whatever you say, Professor." Qrow laughed. "I'll leave you three to it, then."
Winston fell behind the semi-sober huntsman as closely as he could considering the slight drunkenness to the older man's walk. The trio that had originally been awaiting Winston's arrival silently watched the old bird and uncanny young man beside him vanish behind the elevator doors, and only when they were certain that they were out of earshot did Ozpin attempt to clarify what happened.
"I understand you both have some questions-"
"Some questions?" Glynda sarcastically mocked.
"Okay, many questions." Ozpin conceded. "Is there anywhere you would like me to start?"
"Yes. Who was that soldier and where did they come from?" Glynda asked him.
"Perhaps I could shed some light on our guest, or I suppose it would now be more appropriate to call Mr. Winston our newest student." PROFESSOR Oobleck suggested. "Given what Ozpin has already mentioned, we can assume that the young man is- was, a soldier from a kingdom that managed to be separated from the rest of the world and lost to history. Am I correct so far, Ozpin?"
"Not entirely, but as Winston is the only person able to provide a definitive answer to that question, I doubt any of us will be able to come to the right conclusion on our own. Your explanation will likely be the best answer we have for now." The Headmaster explained.
"Would that book you asked me for contain any more useful material regarding Mr Winston?" Oobleck asked, gleaming at the chance to discover what could very well be Remnant's lost history.
"Yes." Ozpin bluntly answered.
"What aren't you still telling us?" Glynda pressed once again.
Ozpin took a long draw from his mug before answering her. "Tell me, what is the first thing comes to mind when you hear 'The Imperium of Mankind'?" He inquired.
"Imperium of... Mankind?" Oobleck muttered, visibly unnerved.
"Yes, The Imperium of Mankind, not the imperium of faunuskind." Ozpin said, voicing the same concern that Oobleck's expression mirrored.
"And what about the 'Death Korps of Krieg'? While a kingdom that declares itself the champion of mankind might be problematic considering Mistral and Mantle's own dark histories surrounding that title, an army composed of soldiers as emotionless as Winston probably aren't much better." Ozpin continued, both Oobleck and Glynda finally starting to see the reasoning behind the headmaster's line of questioning earlier.
"Having met several individuals from the Imperium myself in the past, I can definitely say that having the both of you here was good for the safety of everyone at Beacon." He finally trailed off, looking solemnly into his empty mug as he finished.
"Anyways, it is getting late. I'll be sure to tell both of you more about Beacon's new admission and the kingdom he comes from once I can verify this book's claims for myself." Ozpin raised up the tattered 'pamphlet' in name alone for emphasis.
As much as they wanted to argue against the headmaster's decision and dig further into what they had witnessed, there were things they had to plan for once classes started on Monday and neither Glynda nor Oobleck could afford to waste any more time than they already had that night. They both said their farewells to the headmaster of Beacon, Glynda stressing just how important it was to keep her properly informed with her final words, before departing from Ozpin's office.
Without anyone to disturb him and a long night of reading ahead of him, Ozpin resigned himself to finishing as much of the ancient book in front of him as he could. But before he could begin, he had an empty mug of cocoa that was in immediate need of a refill, and set about solving that problem himself. His book wasn't going anywhere without him, nor the bookmarks he placed in danger of being lost, so he took his time preparing for the long night ahead. While he would need to provide Winston a scroll with plenty of instructions so as to keep the guardsman's identity a secret, that could wait until after he knew more about the lonesome soldier.
With that thought in mind, Ozpin sat back down at his desk and cracked open the Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer once again, starting at the army Winston claimed to be a part of.
"The Death Korps of Krieg." He read aloud. "Krieg's Korpsmen are willing and ready to sacrifice themselves in defense of the Imperium; having been born, bred, and raised to give their lives for the Emperor without question. Every one of their numbers has been trained since birth to fight for mankind's continued survival, willing to prove their loyalty without any regard to their own lives."
The small little section covering the Death Korps wasn't much, but it was more than enough to warn Ozpin of what was to come.
Author's Corner:
After saying this story was going to be released 'soon' in my profile for the PAST SIX MONTHS, I've finally done it. It only took three different rewrites for the prologue to properly establish the tone and characters, but damn was it worth it.
Anyways, as someone who always loves the 'broken' characters the most in the books, games, and movies I watch; I couldn't help but to write one such story of my own that revolved around one such character. Despite my apprehensions about doing so with an OC, something I have come to absolutely DREAD thanks to the stereotype numerous blatant wish-fulfilling self-inserts that claim said mantle have given the term, I'd like to say Winston will be a little bit different than the usual OC protagonist. Then again, considering the genre tags I picked out for this story as well as the inclusion of anything from the grimdarkness of W40K, I'd hope that much is obvious.
Thanks for giving this story a shot. I hope to see you all again in the future!