Hello all. While initially I didn't want to include an author's note here at the start, I realized that it may be necessary to give some pretext to this story. This is not a story about the canon RWBY universe. This story does not focus on any of the main cast of RWBY, nor does it focus on any of RWBY's cast whatsoever. This is an original story about an entire cast of original characters in a universe very similar to canon RWBY, but with several distinct changes. I'm not going to go over them here, as the story will be revealing them as it goes on. In The Storm Strider, you'll be following unfamiliar characters going to unfamiliar places, doing things entirely unconnected to canon, so if that doesn't interest you, so be it. I'm not writing this to cater to the main audience of RWBY, but rather just because I want to create a unique globe-trotting epic filled with exciting adventures and tense battles. If you find yourself intrigued, I hope to take you all on a wild and enjoyable ride across this new and unfamiliar Remnant. Thanks for joining me.
- t - s - s -
1
It was Gate Straza's eighteenth birthday, and he was on a boat sailing to his death.
The frigid sea wind whipped across the small deck of the landing craft with a vicious ferocity, and even with his standard-issue jacket, Gate shivered uncontrollably. His reaction wasn't only from the cold, though. Nor was it from his exposed alligator tail that felt like it might freeze and fall off. Part of it was the overwhelming fear that pervaded the craft and clung tightly to each of its passengers.
Gate glanced up, eyes flicking across the boat. It was a small, open thing, with the appearance of a large metal tub with chest height handrails on either side. At the back was a small driver's platform with a control panel, and at the front was a ramp-like door that lowered on a hinge. Inside the boat, there were twenty identically dressed soldiers. Each was clad in the same royal blue softshell jacket, hardened black shoulder cops, grey pants, black boots, black tactical gloves, and enclosed steel helm. On their upper right arms there were two patches. The topmost was simply the flag of Bastion, a red diamond within a blue circle, atop a black flag. The patch below it was for identification. Gate's own read "Epsilon 6".
Each person was armed with a single bladed melee weapon, as well as a handgun strapped to their thigh. In basic training, they had all been put through a series of aptitude tests to determine the best weapon for their body type and physique. The sidearm they were all equipped with was a standard Raythean "Finale" 9mm, but with an additional under barrel 20-gauge shotgun attachment. Each person had been provided with exactly five shells of incendiary buckshot. Finally, they each carried a single burn dust grenade on their belts.
In an effort to keep himself distracted, Gate performed another check of his own gear, patting the hilt of his longsword, checking the chamber of his sidearm, and checking over his spare magazines. It was a painfully short distraction, though, and Gate soon took to looking out over the waters instead. The waves were choppy and harsh, rocking the small landing craft to and fro as it puttered steadily towards the shore in the near distance. Gate was content to watch the murky waters rather than think of what lay ahead on shore, but was abruptly yanked from his thoughts by a nudge in the side.
"You ready for this?" inquired a feminine voice to his left.
Gate turned to see the soldier standing next to him, clad in the same attire as the rest, facing him. She was slightly shorter than him, perhaps by a few inches, but because of the steel helm he had no sense of her appearance other than the lock of long blonde hair that poked out and fell over her shoulder. Due to the reactive lens installed in the helmet's narrow visor slit, even her eyes were indistinguishable. Glancing at her ID patch, it read "Epsilon 8".
"If I'm to be honest, no. Not at all." Gate responded.
Eight, as he labeled her, let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah, I get that. I'm the same." She shifted nervously for a few moments before continuing. "I really don't think they gave us enough training to be taking on something like this."
Ha. The same thought had undoubtedly crossed the mind of every soldier on this godforsaken boat at least a hundred times by now. Each and every one of them were rookies. New blood. Conscripted into the Bastion Armed Forces only a few short months ago, they were all entirely unprepared for whatever horrors lay ashore at their destination. Their "basic training" had truly been just that: basic. They were put on a harsh physical conditioning schedule, given rudimentary aura training, and taught the bare basics of firearm handling, unarmed, and armed melee combat.
Now they were being sent off to defend a small colony town of Bastion, by the name of Aldia. Allegedly there had been reports of a large gathering of Grimm outside the town over the past few days. The townsfolk were getting nervous and called out to Bastion to provide aid. Now here they were. Twenty soldiers against who knows how many Grimm. Real Grimm. Gate's stomach seemed to sink even lower than it had already been. The people on this boat were not hunters. No, they were hardly even soldiers. They were all young adults with weapons thrust into their hands, told to go fight the enemies of humanity.
Gate closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
He shook his head and let out a weak laugh. "Happy birthday to me…" he muttered.
"What's that?" Eight asked.
"Ah, nothing. But yeah, it can't be too bad. It's only a few Grimm, right?"
Eight's head turned towards the metal floor, and she said nothing for a few moments.
"Yeah, maybe you're right," she let out finally. "Just a few Grimm. Ha! Maybe this won't even be so bad after all."
Gate wasn't convinced, but then again, she obviously wasn't either. And who could blame them? They had all presumably lived in Bastion their whole lives. Being a moderately small island country south of Anima, Bastion was easily the most well-defended nation on Remnant. It was highly populated, and the vast sprawling cityscapes ringed nearly the entire coast. Much of the inland was filled with farmland and smaller towns and cities. Any Grimm that approached the sandy white beaches were easily shot down by the guards stationed on the walls, and the few Grimm that ever showed up within the walls were dispatched easily enough as well. The likelihood that anyone born and raised in Bastion had even laid eyes on a real Grimm before adulthood was very low. And now they were going to have to fight them.
"We're entering the channel!"
Gate perked up. The shout had come from the driver, and it prompted most of the soldiers around him to take a look around. True to the driver's word, they were entering a channel that cut through the coast. It must have only been about half a mile wide, but stretched far inland, twisting and turning along the way. Gate resigned himself to watch the passing of the coastline, which was rimmed by seemingly endless forests of tall, thin trees. Another distraction it may have been, it also did little to draw his thoughts away from what lay ahead. With a huff, Gate began to turn his head away from the foliage, but his eye was caught by a sudden movement.
His gaze snapping back, Gate noticed what appeared to be a human figure just past the shoreline. They wore a long cloak of dark grey… no, perhaps they were robes. Gate narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, watching in mute fascination as the figure raised a single arm as if to point straight at him.
"Alright we're approaching the dock, prepare to…" the driver's voice trailed off for a moment.
Gate turned.
"INCOMING!"
And he never saw what hit them.
A horrible screeching cacophony of rent metal and screams filled the air as the boat lurched to the side and Gate was sent tumbling.
Gate's breath was torn from his chest as he slammed into the opposite wall of the boat, and a sharp groan escaped him when another soldier slammed into his chest. Grabbing them by the shoulders, he shoved them off to the side and tried to get to his feet. His mind felt like it was shrouded with fog, and he vaguely recognized that he hadn't put up his aura to protect his head when it slammed into the wall. Someone grabbed his arm and shook it wildly.
"Hey! Hey! Head in the game, man!" shouted a young male voice that he didn't recognize.
Gate shook his head for a moment and some of his focus seemed to return to him. Looking up, he immediately realized that the small landing craft had been torn in half, the entire front end missing.
"Look man, we've got to get off this boat and make it to shore. Can you swim?" the soldier grabbing his arm asked urgently.
Gate eyes transfixed on the long row of white bone spines that poked out of the water, gliding through it at a speed much greater than he could swim. He dimly noted that the ability to swim might not be enough to make it to shore.
"I'm getting off this fucking boat, and I really don't have the time to care if you're coming with me!" the man shouted.
Ah right. The boat that was torn in half. The one that was sinking. Gate checked the other soldiers and noticed that most of the original twenty were not still in the boat. Those that remained were attempting to get as far in the back as they could while the torn half of the boat sank lower and lower. They began to draw their firearms and point them towards the water.
It was the gunshots that finally pulled him out of the haze.
"Oh fuck," Gate let out.
Fumbling for his sidearm, Gate yanked it out of its holster and trained it on the long dark shape just below the spines in the water. He pulled the trigger, and the gun barked as the dust round hit the water with spray of mist. He let out a few more shots before the soldier next to him pushed his extended arms down.
"Stop wasting ammo, dumbass! Shooting into the water isn't going to do shit, we need to get out of here before this bucket sinks!"
With a grimace, Gate reholstered his pistol and faced the man.
"And what happens when that thing snaps us up?!" Gate shouted.
"Fuck, I don't know. But we're sitting ducks if we stick around here!" the soldier shouted back, voice cracking partway.
The water was up to their knees now. Gate's heart was pounding out of his chest, and his thoughts felt scattered by the continuous barking of gunshots. He looked out over the water at the shore, maybe 50 yards away.
"Oh gods above," Gate whispered, before whipping his tail back and forth a few times to get the blood flowing.
He made a choice, and instantly hated it. It would surely end in his horrible death. Yet, he felt just a little relief that he made a choice at all. Gate looked to the other man's patch. "Epsilon 13" it read. He'd curse that number to the grave if he died here. Gate looked at Thirteen straight on and grabbed his shoulder.
"Fuck it, let's make a break for it."
A firm nod. Gate nodded back.
Gate let go, and they dropped into a short crouch. With a leap, the cold water enveloped them, and they swam for their lives.
- t - s - s -
If there was a single upside to this situation, it was that being part alligator made swimming a breeze.
By swishing his long, scaly tail back and forth while paddling with his hands, Gate was able to glide through the water faster than most other people could ever swim. Unfortunately, though, as his frantic brain seemed to remind him, that sea serpent Grimm was moving much faster. Gate prayed upon every god he had ever heard of that it would be too focused on the boat to notice him and Thirteen slip away. Or, at the very least, just him. Though horrible and selfish the thought may be, he was already being selfish by leaving behind the others to begin with so to hell with it.
His mind was so preoccupied with its terror, and the repetitious paddling that he didn't even see the body until he hit it. Blonde hair was splayed out behind a metal helm. One of the soldiers. Floating face-down, with blood dyeing the water around them, this one was very clearly dead. As he struggled to push them aside and keep moving, his eye caught their ID patch. "Epsilon 8" it read.
Fuck. Gate's mind numbed a bit further, but he kept moving. That would be him soon if he didn't make it to shore. The shore which still looked about 30 yards away. He pushed harder. He could make it. He could make it. He could-
Something closed around his left ankle.
He was pulled under.
Gate's right leg lashed out, battering against the black form that caught hold of him. It felt like he was moving in a dream. The water made his every movement sluggish, yet it felt like the Grimm was pulling him down at a breakneck pace. Gate pushed his aura to the forefront, trying with all of his being to keep the vice-like jaws from tearing his foot clean off. In the murky darkness of the depths, Gate could see a massive black shape that seemed to go on and on forever, back lined with tall white spines, ending with a bone-masked serpentine face with jaws the size of a shark's. The two burning red eyes of the Grimm bore into his own with an inhuman hatred.
It wanted to kill him. So, so badly. And it probably would. No, definitely would, he thought as he felt the last dregs of his aura be pulled toward his ankle, desperately trying to defend him. Gate's mind began to drift, and he realized faintly that his lungs felt like they were going to collapse. He had no idea how long he'd been underwater, but it had felt like ages. He wondered if he'd drown first or be eaten.
The jaws of the Grimm yanked back and forth, before finally he could feel his aura crack and shatter. Teeth pierced into flesh, yet the pain barely registered. So this was it, huh? Game over…
.
.
.
No!
Something inside his very soul opened in that moment. A part of himself that had always existed, yet one that he never knew. A defiance that had always lied in wait. Waiting for a time, a place to show itself, to rear its head. And now, facing his death, that time was here, now.
Gate felt his blood ignite. It was like his veins had become livewires, overloading with an energy so foreign, yet oddly familiar. It was alive and wild, yet he had never felt so calm. It was an unexplainable contradiction that he would have never thought could exist without experiencing it.
A flash of unexplainable images filtered through his mind as he tried to understand. A blue lotus blooming. A sky of black clouds. The moon, whole again.
It was euphoria.
It was tranquility.
It was power.
Gate's body moved of its own volition and grabbed his longsword, yanking out of its sheath. The blade gleamed in the dark waters like a beacon. With a flash of ethereal blue light, energy exploded across the weapon, crackling and arcing down the length of the blade wildly. His entire body burning, Gate yanked himself closer to the black serpent. Down pierced the blade, and Gate drove its tip into one of its hate-filled eyes. Electricity raced through its body, and the creature of Grimm let out a reverberating screech.
The grip on Gate's ankle was released, and he kicked up towards the surface as fast as he could. Breaking the surface, Gate gasped for air. With a hacking cough, Gate slowly eased his breathing, before getting his wits about him. Grimm. Shore. Swim.
Gate began to swim faster than he ever had before, doubtless that the serpent was right on his tail, or at least would be soon. And he wouldn't have his sword next time. He'd left it lodged in that thing's eye, after all. Nor might he be able to call that strange power again…
Gate's fears were interrupted, though, when his feet hit sand. He looked up in shock. The shore… it was right there! A low sandy bank awaited him only a few short feet away. With a scrambling run, he hauled himself up and waded through with as much haste as he could manage. He threw himself bodily onto the sand once he pulled himself completely out of the water and began to laugh.
"Aha… heh. Haha… Hahahaha!" within moments his body was shaking uncontrollably with laughter, and only after a few moments did he realize why his eyes were stinging so badly.
"Oh fuck. I made it. I fucking made it," Gate let out.
"So you did," a voice answered.
Gate's body seemed to scream in protest as he rolled over to face the voice. He took in the royal blue jacket and helm, recognizing another of the soldiers. Or survivors, rather. His eyes flicked to their ID patch. Epsilon 13. That beautiful rat bastard.
"So you didn't get eaten either," Gate replied.
"I didn't. And for a moment there it looked like you weren't so lucky."
"Eh," Gate let out. Putting out a hand and tilting it back and forth, he said, "It was a bit close."
"Ha! You must be one tough bastard," Thirteen remarked as he stuck out a hand towards him.
Gate reached up and grabbed it, pulling himself to his feet.
"So…" Gate winced as he put pressure on his injured ankle. "Any others make it?"
Thirteen shook his head. "Not yet. But look at 'em, several are headed this way. The boat finally went under, so I guess they ran out of options."
Gate gazed out over the channel, and what Thirteen said rang true. He couldn't see any sign of the boat anymore, but he counted seven blue-clad figures desperately swimming towards the shore.
"Damn, that Grimm doesn't seem to be snatching any of them up. You must've really done a number on it!" Thirteen exclaimed, slapping him on the shoulder.
"I… yeah. Maybe I did," Gate responded, eyes narrowing behind his helm in thought.
What was that strange energy that had appeared? It was like a blue lightning that seemed to empower his sword when he stabbed the serpent. And to hurt a Grimm of that size to such a degree that it would let him escape? He had to find out more.
Raising a hand, Gate tried to bring his aura to the forefront, but came up short. He was dry. Aura-wise that was, as he was still very much physically soaked. Oh well, he thought. His aura would return in time, and he'd experiment then. Turning his eyes back to the water, he watched as the first of the others made it ashore. They pulled themselves out of the drink and flopped onto the sand much as he had just moments ago. One by one they made their way onto the beach, until only a single straggler remained, flailing slowly towards the shore.
Thirteen clapped him on the shoulder again.
"Ha! Looks like you're a real hero today. I doubt they'd all be so lucky if you hadn't gave that thing what fo- "
Thirteen's words were interrupted by a massive spray as the black shape of the Grimm serpent erupted from the water. Its shadow fell upon them as its scaled body rose silently, showing itself for all to see. It was even wider than he had thought – at least six feet across - and its fangs were as long as daggers. Not to mention, it looked downright furious. Maybe it had something to do with the longsword that was driven to the hilt into its left eye.
It let out a screeching roar, then crashed down back into the channel. The last soldier left in the water screamed their last as the Grimm's jaws clamped around their torso and pulled them back into the deep, leaving only a murky cloud of red behind.
The beach was silent. For a few moments, no one moved or made a sound. Eventually, though, the soldiers around them began to get up and move about. Gate let out a ragged sigh. What a hell of a day. And it wasn't even noon.
With another sigh and a shake of his head, Gate began to unzip his jacket. Pulling the sleeves off over his gloves, Gate tossed the wet article over his shoulder and started working on his helmet. Undoing the straps, Gate tore the thing off his head and quickly fastened it to his belt. Gate ran his fingers through his hair. Dark green, nearly black, and cut at a medium length. Thankfully the Bastion Armed Forces didn't enforce any uniformity in hair style. He really didn't think one of those Atlesian buzz cuts would be a good look on him.
Next to him, Thirteen seemed to have gotten the same idea as him. Thirteen had gotten rid of the jacket and pulled off the helmet to reveal a roguishly handsome tanned face, covered in sandy blonde hair. He grinned, his forest green eyes twinkling with an almost mad light, and stuck out a hand at him. Gate reached out and clasped it.
"Reed Verdan," Thirteen said, shaking his hand firmly.
"Gate. Gate Straza," Gate replied.
"Well then, Gate, what do you say we get off this damned beach?" Reed asked.
"I'd say…" Gate began, looking around to the other soldiers that seemed to be watching the two of them. "That sounds like the best idea I've heard all day."
Reed's grin widened. "Lead on."
- t - s - s -
As it turned out, they actually weren't very far from Aldia. It had only taken about ten minutes to march around the shoreline and reach the docks. Unfortunately, Gate's injured ankle made the short trek a painful ordeal. Gate had been forced to accept Reed's help by slinging an arm around his shoulder as he limped.
Now that he thought about it, it was probably the tall leather boots he wore that saved his foot from being lost completely. While the serpent's massive teeth should have completely severed his foot the instant his aura broke, the tough material seemed to have bought him just enough time to catch his second wind. Speaking of which… that power. It must've been his semblance. He'd been told long ago that semblances usually only showed themselves in times of great need, and, well, that had been about as much "need" as he'd ever been in. First came the Tier I, weak and unrefined. It was supposedly a pale shadow to its "true potential", or so it was said. They went all the way up to Tier IV, or even Tier V if you believed the legends. Gate momentarily wondered if he would ever see the day where he had a powerful Tier IV semblance, but he shook the thoughts from his head. He had a mission to do here. Dreaming about the future wouldn't do him any good if he ended up dead before the week was out.
As the squad of soldiers approached the docks, Gate was finally able to get a good look at Aldia. It was completely enclosed by tall metal walls, with the docks being outside the main protective barrier. However, the docks had their own set of outer walls that, while shorter, served as a sort of first line of defense. At the moment, a set of wide swinging gates were open on their side of the docks. Assumedly having seen the destruction of their landing craft, the townsfolk seemed to be watching for their arrival. Now that Gate and his fellows had gotten closer to the walls, several townsfolk seemed to have deemed it safe to run out and meet them.
"Hey! Are you all alright?!" shouted a man in a bucket hat as he ran towards them, waving one arm above his head.
Yes. Quite alright after a sea serpent just nearly tore us limb from limb, as you all no doubt saw.
"We're alive!" Reed called out cheerily, waving back.
"Thank Luvana for that!" the man exclaimed as he neared them. "I-I don't know what we'd do without the lot of you here. The Grimm have been getting right shifty out past the walls and we've all just been so nervous waiting for Bastion to send ya' and-"
Gate cut him off by clamping a hand down on his shoulder.
"It's alright. We're here now. But…" Gate trailed off for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at the worn faces of his fellows. "We could really all use a hot shower and a change of clothes. Think your people could help us out with that much?"
The man's face lit up. "Y-Yes!" he exclaimed. "Yes, of course. Anything! Come, let's get you all to the inn. They'll have just what you need."
Eyes flat and tired, Gate turned to Reed and gave him a small nod. Another of those ever-present smiles crept onto his face and he nodded back. Setting off, they followed the man as he led them through the small town of Aldia. The streets were concrete, and the buildings looked modern, yet Gate noted that he could spot the walls on the opposite end of the city as soon as they stepped through the open portcullis near the docks. It seemed the greatest limiting factor for Aldia was space. Space, or perhaps just a lack of security to expand.
As they marched through the streets, it was impossible to miss how the people gathered on the sides of the walkways as they passed by, watching and talking excitedly among themselves. Gate supposed that it was pretty big news for them that the reinforcements that they were promised had finally arrived. Well, half of them at least. Most probably didn't realize that yet. From their point of view, though, Gate and his comrades were professionals who would take care of the Grimm with ease. Gate wished that were true, he really did. The truth would come to light sooner or later, though. Gate could only hope that the townsfolk wouldn't be driven into a panic, riling up the Grimm even further.
"Here we are," their guide interrupted. "The Hearty Hearth Inn."
It was a somewhat unassuming two-story brick building with a carved wooden sign over the double-door entrance. Gate thanked the man for guiding them and pushed open the door to head inside.
The foyer of the inn was a dimly lit tavern-like area. On one side of the room there were an assortment of wooden tables and chairs, where a few patrons were seated, eating and drinking. Against the back wall there was a bar, and against the far-right wall, near the door, there was a separate reception counter. Behind that counter stood a middle-aged man who looked up with a surprised expression as Gate entered.
"Welcome! Welcome to the Hearty Hearth," the man exclaimed.
"We're glad to be here!" Reed replied.
They were indeed. Or at the very least, glad to be on land instead of at the bottom of the channel.
"You're the reinforcements from the homeland, aren't you?"
"We are," Gate answered.
"Fantastic! Just fantastic," the man replied. "I must say, you all look like you took a dip in the channel. How about we get you set up with some lodging where you can dry off? Completely free of charge, of course. I would never dare ask for a lien when you're already doing us such a service."
"That would be…" Gate began, closing his eyes for a moment, imagining a gloriously hot shower. "Amazing, thank you."
"Excellent, follow me!"
He led them up the stairs in the corner of the room, gave each of them their own room keys, and told them to leave their wet clothes in a basket in the hall to be collected. With that, they were left to their own devices, and Gate went to take a well-deserved break.
- t - s - s -
The evening came and went, and now freshly showered, with their uniforms clean and dried, the remaining soldiers of squad Epsilon sat around a large table in the corner of the inn's dining room. Nearby a fireplace crackled warmly, casting long shadows across each of their troubled faces. They had first gathered to eat, but now that dinner had come and gone it was time for a discussion. They had to plan their next move, and with their squad leader presumably resting somewhere at the bottom of the channel, it was up to them to carry on the mission.
Eventually someone broke the silence.
"Well first I think we should all agree that we can't just back out on this," spoke a girl with long auburn hair and deep blue eyes.
"Obviously," responded another girl. She was noticeably short, even sitting down. Her hair was shoulder length and pale grey, contrasting her vibrant orange eyes. Most noticeably, though, was the large grey horn jutting from her forehead. "These people need help, and we're the only ones they've got."
Everyone nodded in agreement, albeit some with a reluctant grimace.
"Okay, so what do we need to do?" asked one of the guys Gate didn't recognize. "Like, specifically?"
"Well," Gate began, all eyes turning to him. "We need to first check the town's defenses. See what they have in terms of firepower and ordinance."
They all nodded, and Gate continued.
"We'll also need to investigate the Grimm. We need to know how many there are, what kinds, and what areas they're keeping to. Once we have that information, we can figure out exactly how to deal with them." Gate paused for a moment, thinking. "We'll need to move quickly, though. We have no idea when they'll decide to attack, or even why so many are here in the first place." He looked each of them in the eyes. "We can't do much tonight, though. We'll wake at dawn and get to work. How about we split into two teams? One can go check the defenses, the other can scout out the Grimm."
They all glanced among each before beginning to nod.
"Okay," said the girl with auburn hair. "It sounds like a plan. What about the teams though?"
"I was sent along as a field technician," the short girl with the horn piped up. "So, it would probably be best if I checked on the defenses. I'll be able to recognize if anything needs repair or can be salvaged. Who wants to come with me?"
Three hands immediately shot up. All guys that hadn't said a word so far. Cowards, Gate thought. He recognized that, yes, there needed to be a few people to go check on the defenses. He had been the one to suggest it after all. However, a little tact should've been warranted for wanting to take what was, in every sense, the safe job. Whatever, though. Gate preferred to have teammates with a little bit of spine if they were going to be running into Grimm, anyways.
"Alright, fine," Gate spoke up. "You two will be with Reed and I," he said as he pointed to the ginger girl and the last guy, a narrow-faced fellow with short brown hair.
Gate stood, pushing his chair back.
"We'll meet back here at dawn, then. We'd better all get some rest," Gate said as he turned away and began limping for the stairs. Reed followed close behind, grasping Gate's upper arm to support him, and the screeching of chairs told Gate the rest were too.
As he got to his room, he waved Reed off and gave a small thanks, before heading inside. He undid his small military-issue watch, set an alarm for 6:00 am, and tossed it onto the nightstand. That done, he turned to his bed and flopped straight onto it. Considering the likely-deadly task he had in the morning, Gate figured he might have a hard time sleeping. He was so exhausted, though, that he didn't even have the energy to worry, and soon drifted off to dreams of stormy skies.
- t - s - s -
Once again, the eight remaining soldiers of squad Epsilon gathered at the large round corner-table in the Hearty Hearth. They all now donned their royal blue jackets and weapons, their steel helms strapped to their belts. Having just finished breakfast, they were all sitting nervously, anxious expressions on each of their faces. It was time.
"Alright," Gate started. "It's time to get to work, everyone. Get with your teams and let's head out. How about we meet back here about…" he trailed off, checking his watch. "Noon."
Nods and small words of agreement all around. Standing, he waved at the others in his group and headed for the door. Giving a small wave to the receptionist, he pulled his helmet on and stepped outside into the cool morning air.
Turning north, Gate started off down the path, and the three others fell into line next to him. A noticeable change from the evening before was Gate's distinct lack of a limp. He had been told in their training that aura could heal superficial wounds overnight, but to see it in action himself was something else entirely. Ordinarily, he'd likely be limping for weeks. Gate pushed the thoughts of his injury aside, though, and instead considered his companions. Particularly the ones he didn't even know the names of yet.
"Maybe some introductions are in order, if we're to be working together," Gate began. "I'm Gate Straza."
The girl with long auburn hair flowing out the bottom of her helmet shot out a hand. He shook it, and she introduced herself.
"April Winchester," she said cheerily.
"I'm Reed Verdan," Reed piped up, jutting his thumb out at himself.
Gate turned to the final guy, and he spoke up, "Flynn Aris. I hope we can all work well together."
Reed nodded with a hum. "First, though, maybe we should get Gate here a new sword. Sorry buddy, I know you did a number on the big snake with your blade, but something tells me you can't pull off the same with just your fists."
Ah, right. That was a good point. Now that he thought about it, Gate took a look at his companions' weapons. Strapped to Reed's side was a long, curved messer. April had some sort of spear with a curved blade slung over her shoulder by a strap attached to both ends of the shaft. Finally, Flynn carried a rapier on his hip. How the hell April had managed to swim ashore yesterday with that thing strapped to her, Gate honestly had no clue.
"Yeah, I nearly forgot," Gate responded. "I'm sure there'll be a weapons shop somewhere nearby."
There was. As they headed down the street, they spotted one on the right after only just a few minutes. It was a small storefront with glass windows displaying a multitude of weapons and pieces of armor. As they approached the shop, they noticed the sign was flipped to "open", so they headed inside.
The small shop was packed with a wide variety of weapons, both blades and firearms, as well as all the armor a man could ever want. A large bear of a man with grey hair and a long, flowing beard stood behind the counter, and his eyes widened in recognition at their blue jackets.
"Soldiers, you lot are! Welcome, welcome!" he bellowed merrily.
Gate winced behind his helm. This man surely had no clue what an "inside voice" was. Call him a prude, but it was really too early to be that loud.
"Yes, hello," Gate responded. "I'm looking to replace my lost weapon. A longsword."
"Longsword, eh?" the man muttered, bringing his hand up to his chin in consideration while looking him up and down.
Stepping out from behind the counter, the man bustled over to one of the many racks littering the shop, searching through the blades held there before moving to the next. Seemingly finding what he was looking for, he picked up two different longswords, one slightly longer than the other. Turning back to them, he thrust the hilt of one into Gate's hands.
"Hold it up," the man commanded, prompting Gate to lift the blade so that the tip pointed to the ceiling.
"Hmmmmm…" the man muttered, eyes narrowing. "No, not that one. Tad too short for ya'."
He took the sword from Gate's hands before handing him the other. Gate lifted it up just as he did the other, spreading his feet and raising his tail as if he were to fight.
"Yes, yes. That'll do," the man confirmed, turning and heading back towards the counter.
"Great," Gate replied. "How much do I owe you?"
The man stopped mid-stride before turning back with a strange look on his face.
"Owe?" he said. "No, no, you won't be owing me anything. Ha! No, I think not. You're here fighting the beasts at our doorstep in our stead. I'd say we already owe you our lives just for that. Take the sword. It'll do much more good protecting us than it will gathering dust here in the shop."
Gate opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself. The serious look in the man's eye told Gate that it wasn't something he'd be reconsidering. Gate nodded reluctantly.
"Alright then. I appreciate it. We'll do our best not to let you down."
The man's expression brightened. "Ha! You do that. And if you find your gear in need of repair, always feel free to stop by. You may see my assistant up front if you do, though, so just ask for me. The name's Anrdre."
The man continued on his way, crouching behind the counter for a few moments before coming up with a leather sheath. He returned to them, handed Gate the sheath, then reached out and grasped Gate's other hand, shaking it firmly.
"Stay safe, we're all rooting for ya'," he said, before leading them to the door and holding it open for them.
The four of them stepped out, waved their goodbyes to Andre, then resumed their route to the northern wall. That was… surprisingly easy, Gate thought. What more, it had followed a recurring theme that he couldn't help but notice. These people… they were incredibly welcoming, and ready to give whatever they could to help them. Perhaps like Andre said, they might all believe that they owed Gate's squad some great debt for the simple fact that they were here to defend them. It seemed simple enough, but it contrasted so harshly with how Gate himself felt.
When it came down to it, if he and the others were ever given a choice beforehand, they would never have come here. Surely that poor girl Eight and the others that rested at the bottom of the channel felt the same as well. Even now, Gate's only thoughts were of his own survival. Sure, he was committed to fighting in defense of these people. He could admit that, as unqualified as he was, he was probably still better off against the Grimm than the average civilian. But, at the end of the day, Gate didn't fear the Grimm because of what they might do to this town. He feared them for his own life first.
To the people, though, he was not so selfish and weak. He was a soldier of Bastion. They saw the royal blue of his jacket and the steel visage of his helm, red diamond of Bastion emblazoned upon the forehead, and they felt safe. Protected. To them, he was the sword and the shield of their great nation, sworn to defend them against any threat. To them, he was strong, unbreakable. Their beacon of hope in the darkness. Maybe by some divine stroke of luck he could live up to that image.
Gate looked up at the towering walls as they reached the northern limit of Aldia. Jutting from either side of the northern portcullis, two guard towers stood. Gate took a moment to consider the best course of action. Their goal was to locate the Grimm and get an approximation of how many there were. So, logically, the most likely people to know where the Grimm were spotted would be the guards on the walls.
Gate turned to his companions and voiced his thoughts. They all agreed, and they approached the base of the leftmost guard tower, heading through a narrow open doorway, and climbing a long spiral staircase. The stairs leveled out at a small room with another open doorway, and a small set of wooden stairs going up another level. A look through the doorway revealed that it led to a walkway along the top of the wall. They instead took the staircase up, leading to a small, covered balcony, upon which a single guardsman stood. As their boots stomped up the stairs, he turned in alarm, expression widening when he realized who they were.
"Ah!" he exclaimed. "The Forces! I didn't think I'd be meeting any of you in person. It's an honor, truly. What can I do for you today?"
"Yes, we've come to ask you a few questions," Gate replied. "We need to know if you have seen this gathering of Grimm. Or even, if you've spoken to anyone who has."
The guard didn't seem surprised by the question at all, but gained a somewhat regretful expression.
"No, I'm afraid I haven't myself. Though, I've talked to one of the guards who have. I assume you're wanting to know where?"
They all nodded in response.
"Right. Well, they've been spotted along the tree line around the entire town, but as for any particularly big groups, well…" he trailed off, face shifting to an expression of conflicted contemplation. "The Grimm are always on the move, you see. They aren't just going to be lying around in the shade. Going by what I've heard from the other guards, though… I'd say they mostly seem to congregate out in the west. Now, look," he said, looking almost pained. "People keep saying how this has something to do with the old church ruins out in the wetlands. A-And I know that's probably just superstitious nonsense. Buuuut… well. There is an old Church of the Brothers out there where they seem to be keeping to. It's probably just a coincidence, though."
Gate turned slowly, making eye contact with Reed's visor slit. Slowly again he turned back to the guard.
"Right," he began. "Okay, thanks. You've given us a good place to start from, we appreciate it."
"A-Ah, of course! Any time, any time," the guard said hurriedly. "And don't mind all that talk. It's just that: talk."
"Of course," Gate responded.
Sticking out his hand, he clasped the guard's and shook.
"Well then, we'll be on our way," Gate continued.
Gate's companions waved their goodbyes and they headed back down through the tower in silence. Reaching the ground again, Gate stopped outside the tower and turned to the others.
"So…" he began slowly.
"That's something to think about, I suppose," April responded, nodding her head.
"Eh, the guy's probably right," Reed said, shrugging. "People like to talk. So what, there's some spooky old church out in the woods. Doesn't really mean anything."
Flynn nodded in agreement. "At least we know where we're headed now, though. That much he seemed certain of."
Gate hummed in agreement. "Well then, let's get moving." He glanced at his watch. "We don't have all day, so let's just try to get this over and done with."
"Aye aye, captain," April drawled sarcastically.
Gate rolled his eyes and started walking, his companions falling into step beside him.
- t - s - s -
They stood outside the western gate of Aldia four strong, looking every bit of the soldiers they didn't feel. The mission was simple, at least in theory. March into the wetlands, quietly make their way through, and find the encroaching force of Grimm. Take a quick headcount, turn around, and head back. If push came to shove, haul ass back to the gate while the guards up top provided some covering fire.
See? Simple. Now all they had to do was execute.
The clearing outside the western wall was entirely empty except for some tall grass for about 50 yards, before a line of trees declared the edge of the wetlands. As they stepped closer and closer to that tree line, Gate felt an ever-growing sense of foreboding, almost as if it were pouring out of the forest itself. They reached the edge of the wetlands and stopped.
"Alright people," Gate said, voice barely remaining steady. "In and out. No fuck-ups, yeah?"
"Let's get it done," Reed called back.
Nodding firmly, Gate grasped his longsword with his right hand and tore it free from its sheath. The long steel blade was plain and unassuming, but most definitely sharp. It was a tool, simple as that, not a piece of art. But he didn't feel like a piece of art would be much help here anyways.
Into the trees they went, as one.
Slowly, tensely, they pushed through, heads on a swivel. Every long shadow was a Grimm in the corner of their eyes, and there were plenty of those to be found. The ground was wet and squishy in some places, filling the air with painfully loud squelches as they moved. In other places, it was covered in several inches of water, making them silently thankful for their leather boots. The trees seemed to go on forever ahead of them, all dark bark covered in moss, making the entire wetlands one great blur of greens and browns. They were all just waiting to catch a single sight of gleaming red eyes. At some point, Gate began to wonder if it wouldn't be worth it just to be jumped by the Grimm so he didn't have to keep imagining them around every corner.
On they continued for many slow minutes with nothing to slow their ingress. As Gate moved to step over a fallen log, though, a jab in the side nearly had him jumping from his skin. His head whipped to the right to Reed, who's gaze was transfixed northward. Gate stopped in his tracks.
Through the trees, some distance to the north, he saw it. A Beowolf.
It was… massive. Easily eight feet tall, with a chest as wide as a tree trunk and claws as long as knives, it was a terrifying sight to behold. Yet, none of that held a candle to its head. It looked like the dry skull of some undead hellhound, with eyes burning with a hellish red light. Its jaw hung slightly open as it seemed to prowl slowly through the wetlands. Across its black-furred body and along its spine jutted several bone spurs, adding yet another degree of danger to its appearance. It looked every bit a predator.
And yes, Gate had already technically faced down a Grimm much, much larger than this single Beowolf. The circumstances there were different, though. That had been a highly spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. He'd probably been pumped higher on adrenaline than he'd ever been in his life and was basically moving entirely on instinct. Now, though, he had plenty of time and space to consider the threat he was about to be pitting himself against. And the odds didn't look good.
Gate reached up into the side of his helmet and pushed a small switch. The helmet's voice projector was disabled, and the short-range radio function was enabled, allowing him to speak directly into the ears of his companions, hopefully without the Grimm hearing.
"Okay, everyone stay fucking calm!" Gate hissed.
"I'm completely calm! You don't sound calm!" April hissed back with a tinge of hysteria.
"Look, we're fine," Gate responded. "It's not even looking at us, just keep still."
They all stood there in a frozen silence for a while longer, eyes locked firmly on the Beowolf. If Gate had to guess how far it was from them… maybe 20 yards? Not very far by any means, but it might've been due to the thick tree coverage that the Grimm failed to spot them. It continued to prowl around, eyes roving slowly across the foliage, before it eventually stopped and turned west. Dropping to all fours, it began to lope off at an easy pace. They stayed frozen for a few moments after it had left their sight. Finally, Gate broke the silence.
"We need to follow it."
"Fuck," Reed let out.
"No kidding," April replied. "Talk about a nightmare come alive. The story books don't do that thing any justice. Gods, I doubt any story ever could."
"Look," Gate cut back in. "It's heading west, which is where they're supposed to be. If we follow it, it'll probably lead us to the rest. So let's go."
Reluctantly the others agreed, and they took off after it. They were able to locate it quickly, and from there it was only a matter of staying a good distance away while following it deeper into the wetlands. Despite their pounding hearts, it was actually all smooth sailing, and the Beowolf led them straight to a large clearing deep within the trees. The dense foliage cut away to a circular space full of marshy grounds covered in tall grass. In the center of the clearing stood a small stone building, covered in moss. At the head of the building jutted a thin belltower, half collapsed with time. And around the dilapidated building, covering the clearing like a sea of darkness, were the Grimm.
Luvana preserve us.
There were too many. There was not a single doubt in Gate's mind that if they were discovered at that moment, no amount of running or fighting could ever save their lives. They would die. Simple as that. At the moment they were all poking out from behind their own tree, weapons sheathed, about ten yards from the edge of the clearing. Their heads all turned to each other briefly. They undoubtedly all thought the same thing. They needed to get out of here, sooner than later. First, though, they needed to get what they came for. A count.
Gate leaned forward, taking in the horde with a growing sense of horror. As far as variety, there actually wasn't much. The vast majority of the horde were Beowolves, with a few other species scattered around. Gate was able to spot a few Ursa pacing around on the other end of the clearing as well as some strange bird-like Grimm perched atop the roof of the old church. They had long, bone white legs with talons the size of swords. Their black-feathered bodies were tall and narrow, only sporting a single bone plate on the front of their chests. They had incredibly long, curving necks, and atop them were small, masked heads with narrow black beaks. In the middle of their masked faces lay a single burning eye. If Gate had to associate them with any animal he knew, he'd say they were probably closest to an egret, albeit much, much larger.
Gate performed the quickest head count he could manage. Ten, twenty, twenty-five, thirty… forty, forty-five… fifty. Around fifty, all together. Fuck.
"Okay," Gate muttered into his helm. "Let's get out of here as quickly and safely as possible."
"Praise Luvana, I thought you'd never ask," April muttered back.
Gate turned, checking to make sure there were no Grimm sneaking up behind them, then performed one last sweep of the clearing to make sure none were watching their area. Feeling as safe as he ever would toeing the line of death, Gate began to creep away from the clearing. His companions followed right behind him, and together they slowly retreated. It almost seemed too good to be true, that they might pull this thing off without a hitch. Checking back over his shoulder one more time, Gate confirmed that there were no Grimm headed this way, and that they would be completely out of sight of the clearing in no time. Just as his head began to turn back, though, fate itself seemed to laugh in his face.
Flynn's foot caught a branch lodged in the mud mid-stride. Unable to right himself, he fell straight forward into a shallow pool of water. The following splash echoed in Gate's ears like a broken record. His eyes shot to the clearing, and perched atop the ruined bell tower, a single egret Grimm's head shot up.
Its eye bored straight into his, and with a raise of its head, it let out a single resounding cry.
"Run," Gate whispered.
The egret Grimm unfurled its wings and leapt from the roof.
"RUN!" Gate shouted and turned on his heel.
Gate shot off like a bullet, feet pounding across muddy ground as he desperately tried to get as much of a head-start on the horde as he could. Just behind him he could hear his companions in hot pursuit. Gate's heart was pounding out of his chest, and his legs soon burned with each step, but he knew he couldn't dare slow down.
A piercing scream cut through the air. Flynn.
Gate didn't take a single moment to dwell on it or mourn. He simply couldn't afford to. Every single inch of his brain went into overdrive with the simple task of leaping over and around the many gnarled and tangled roots that curled across the ground. The thin layer of water and mud made the ground difficult to see, and he prayed that he wouldn't be screwed over by bad terrain like Flynn was.
Gate began to recognize a sound past the pounding of blood in his ears. It was the sound of heavy, ragged breaths. Not those made by him, Reed, or April, though. The breath of a beast. Or rather, many beasts. The Beowolves were closing in.
There! Light! The edge of the wetlands. Gate pushed and pushed, yet he could only physically push so hard. As he pumped his arms and legs with every last dreg of energy he had, he felt himself begin to give out. He wanted to live. He really did. Yet his body just wasn't up to the task. The very thought of him being betrayed by his own flesh filled him with a hopeless sense of fear. Dread consumed his mind as his muscles shook. His legs flailed without feeling, pushing him towards the light. It was so close.
Gate broke past the treeline, his legs moving without thought now. He couldn't even feel his limbs. The light of the sun nearly blinded him as he fell into the open, and he never saw the thick clump of grass that caught his foot less than halfway across the clearing.
Gate was sent flying, tumbling and rolling through the tall grass bonelessly. He fought for purchase, attempting to scrabble to his feet. Before he could rise, though, something slammed into his legs, and he was sent rolling again. Gate clawed at the muddy grass, pulling himself up. He caught sight of Reed sprawled out next to him, fighting to right himself as well. So that's what hit him.
Gate's eyes caught movement, and witnessed the creatures of Grimm breaking the tree line, tearing across the ground at a breakneck pace. Gate pushed with his shaking legs, barely managing to stand. His entire body shook both from exhaustion and terror. Gate glanced over again to see Reed slowly rising to his feet, and April, who seemed to have also collapsed just a few feet past them. She was pulling herself up by her polearm, arms struggling in the attempt.
Gate's hand closed over the hilt of his sword. With a quiet rasp, it slid free of the leather sheath, and Gate held it out in front of himself. If he were to die here, he'd die fighting. Scared he may be, he still had his pride. Inexperienced he may be, he could still give it everything he had. A dead man walking he may be, he still drew breath.
And so he would fight.
The first Beowolf flew at him on all fours before leaping into the air with its jaws spread.
Gate's arms drew back above his head, blade pointed to the sky.
Gate's soul bloomed like the petals of a lotus, and electricity coursed through his veins.
The Grimm descended upon him.
And a blade of crackling blue cut it in two.
As the Beowolf fell in front of him, an echo of thunder boomed across Gate's mind. He didn't even register the second Beowolf before its claws were less than a foot from his face.
A long, curved sword lashed out, severing the Beowolf's arm at the elbow.
Reed stood next to him, weapon in hand, and Gate knew in that moment that he had found a true friend. Grinning wildly, Gate pulled his own sword back up and lunged, thrusting it through the Beowolf's neck. It let out a low yowl before falling.
A shrieking cry filled the air, and a shadow fell upon them. They looked up to see wings of black descending from the sky, white talons extended towards them. They both leapt the side as the talons speared into the ground where they had just stood. The egret Grimm stood an easy ten feet tall, towering above them.
"Rrraaaaaaghhh!" a guttural cry echoed as April leapt forward, swinging the curved blade of her polearm in a wide ark.
Her blade scored a deep cut across the beast's neck but skittered off the armor plate that covered its torso. The egret Grimm raised one mighty leg and kicked April in the chest hard enough to send her flying. Golden light flashed over her torso as her aura protected her from the worst of the damage. She landed hard several yards away, flipping and rolling on impact.
Gate dropped the hilt of his sword with his right hand, and he reached down to tug his sidearm free.
"Buckshot!" he yelled out to Reed as he reached his finger past the main trigger and settled it onto the smaller one just in front of it.
The egret Grimm turned to face him at the shout, and Gate trained his crosshairs directly on its singular red eye. He pulled the trigger, and an explosion of fire erupted from his hand.
The kick was enough to knock him back a step, and when he blinked away the blinding light, he saw the egret Grimm left with only half a head remaining. Enough to stay alive with, it seemed, as it reared back its head and spread its wings, shrieking madly. Several howls filled the air in response, and Gate's head snapped down to see several more Beowolves breaking into the clearing. His attention taken off his opponent for barely a moment, Gate was caught by a wide, sweeping kick from the egret. His aura blazed across his torso to protect him, glittering a starry blue, but the impact still swept him off his feet. The egret Grimm hopped forward and raised another foot to stomp him into the ground.
BOOM!
Another explosion of fire rocked the air, and Gate blinked away another second of blindness to see a large hole blasted through the side of the egret Grimm's torso. Reed stood off to the side, one arm over his eyes, with his sidearm held out in front of him. It seems he caught on.
Gate laughed loudly, before dragging himself to his feet. He brought up his gun and aimed at the approaching Beowolves. He settled on a single nearby target and squeezed off a full magazine. Each round impacted the Beowolf with a spray of black blood, but the 9mm rounds failed to stop it. Growling in frustration, Gate holstered his gun and gripped his sword with both hands.
The Beowolf reared up on its hind legs and prepared to leap, but was cut short by the crack of a rifle. The Beowolf's head exploded in a spray of gore, and it fell to the ground. Gate stood in shock for a moment, before whipping his head back towards the town. There, atop the guard's tower, crouched a sentry holding a rifle. He had almost begun to wonder why the hell they hadn't started shooting yet. Gate spun back around with a newfound energy.
There were still several Grimm advancing on them, all Beowolves, but they had stopped pouring from the wetlands. By some small stroke of fortune, or perhaps Flynn's unwilling sacrifice, it seemed only a few of them had actually followed them this whole way. The odds had seemed bleak, hopeless even, but now Gate felt something he hadn't thought possible. Hope. No, not just hope. Confidence. Gate hefted his sword and stepped close to Reed and April, who readied their own blades. The Grimm stalked closer and fanned out around them, cautious. This time, though, it was they who made the first move.
Laughing wildly, Gate led the charge, leaping forward.
His blade flowed freely with lightning.