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Scrublord Yoda

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"I'm aware you worked it out in the end, Jaune, but that isn't the point." Mort rasped the next morning while Jaune showered and shaved. It was nice to be clean-shaven again, even if he'd only been a bit on the bushy side before. "You're too... Aggressive, Jaune. And ignoring me won't do anything about that."

"Who says anything needs to be done?"

"I do."

"And who else?" Jaune asked quietly, parroting his mother and adding, "Any advice that only one person gives you is probably bad advice, Mort."

"No one else here knows you like I do, Arc. No one here has lived with your snarky behind for years, now. And no one knows you enough to feel right telling you this, either." The sword answered quietly, humming against the wood of the wall he'd leaned it against. "I do, though. And this isn't a good way to go for you, Arc."

"And you have a lot of experience here, do you?"

"More than you can know, Arc." Mort whispered lowly, making Jaune's brows furrow in worry and confusion. "Just… Ease off the throttle a bit. I know you aren't exactly the most well socialised blonde murder hobo in the world after the last few years, but you have to try a bit harder."

"First of all, murder hobo?" He laughed as the sour mood slipped away. "Really?"

"Hey, I call it how I see it." Mort defended, "And I see a murder hobo. Admittedly sans the murder part, but hey, still fits."

"I don't think it fits by definition, Mort." He laughed, shaking his head and tugging his shirt on. Buttoning up his blazer, he turned to something more serious and asked, "So, how do you think I should have handled the crab?"

"Less fighting it head on, more laying traps for it." Mort answered without a thought, "Lay a Fire Trap or Fire Wall and let it run through it and wear itself down."

"I was worried that if I tried to run, it'd run me down." And that was not how he wanted to go out, if he had any choice at all. "Plus, I don't want to rely too much on your abilities.

"It was fast, yeah, but a few explosions under its feet were bound to slow it down." Mort answered quietly, as if they were thinking it through as they talked. "And I'm rather certain all concerned have more or less assumed you're using Dust or a Semblance for my fires. But I suppose it doesn't hurt being careful."

"My thoughts-"

"Jaune?" Pyrrha's voice cut him off, even muffled as it was by the bathroom door. "Are you, um… Talking to someone?"

"Just, uh, myself!" He lied as smoothly as he could, plucking his sword from the corner by the door and looping the sword-belt around his waist as quickly as he was able. "Just, uh, thinking about the fight yesterday. Things I could have done, things I did that I shouldn't have. The usual."

"Understandable, but, um-"

"If you don't get outta there so Nora can have her shower, Nora is going to break the door down!" Nora warned him loudly, "And Nora might like rock hard abs, but they won't save you from Nora's wrath!"

"Why is Nora talking in the third person?"

"Because Nora is trying out a thing, Jauney!" The hammerer snapped back, "Now c'mon, Nora has to pee!"

He laughed and, dressed now, tugged the door open to step out. Nora rushed in before he could, though, and shoved him out and into the waiting arms of his partner who stumbled back under his weight. She was strong, though, and picked him up to set him on his own two feet with little trouble and a wide smile.

"She's in a mood today…" Jaune chuckled as he straightened and tugged his blazer straight, "Anything happen?"

"Ren was too late to get the chocolate pancakes they put out on Tuesdays." Ren muttered as he sidled by and sat a few take-away plates of food on the bed. "So Ren is in the proverbial doghouse for… Probably the next fifteen minutes or so, if I had to hazard a guess."

"Nora heard that, Ren!"

"Uh, Ren means if Ren had to hazard a guess…"

"That's better!" Nora called back, "And save me a couple biscuits please!"

"Ren will save them for you." The man sighed, muttering under his breath, "One of these days, Ren is going to hide her favorite sock again."

"She has a favorite sock?"

"Apparently so. And in the third person because Nora pouted him into it." Pyrrha explained as the shower cut on in the bathroom and Jaune sat down to eat. Pyrrha joined him after a quick gesture to ask to sit beside him and sighed contentedly, "At least the mornings do not lack for entertainment. Hm?"

"No, they do not." Jaune chuckled, grabbing a sausage and cheese. "Looking forward to Oobleck today?"

"Honestly, I am." She nodded energetically, "History was something scarcely taught to us, living in the Arena. And I find it fascinating to learn about, almost more so than what combat class offers us."

"You are a champion fighter already." Ren pointed out quietly from his and Nora's pushed together beds. "You spent years fighting all kinds of Grimm and other fighters, I- Er, Ren assumes. It makes sense that you'd not really have much interest in fighting compared to something new and fresh."

"That… Makes sense, yes." Pyrrha nodded, "And though the subject matters often are not, it feels more… Well, innocent, as a subject."

"No one gets hurt." Jaune nodded understandingly, chewing on a bite while he thought. "You remind me of my sister…"

"Oh?" Pyrrha blinked, "Younger?"

"Why do you guess that?"

"You are a man already." Pyrrha answered with a shrug, "And I have heard no tell of other Arcs your age out in the world, doing their great deeds, so… I presumed you would be the eldest."

"Well… Close to." He said quietly, turning back to his food and sighing. "But no, I mean Saphron. She's… Well, my older sister, and the heiress to House Arc at Ansel."

"I thought Valean nobility inherited patrilineally, though…"

"They do." Jaune sighed and sat his food aside, appetite beginning to fade a bit. "There was… A complication about Saph's, well, future. We duelled for the title and, as you can probably guess, I lost. So I was disinherited and sent on my merry way."

"That's terrible." Pyrrha murmured, eyes suddenly hard. "That can't stand. Surely you can do something now, right?"

"Nothing I'm willing to." He chuckled, waving for her to take it down a notch. "I got my freedom, and Saph got her title. We both won, in the end, and now I can do what I please without worrying about my name. Beyond what I just can't avoid, at least."

"If you want to talk about-"

"I don't." He cut her off, grimacing when she blinked and Mort hissed a warning in his ear. "What I, uh, mean is that it's… A sensitive subject, Pyr. Not something I want to start a day out talking over."

"Ah, I see." She nodded, and smiled again, warm and relaxed. "Well, then we should eat and get ready for class. You finished your assignment, right Nora?"

"Nora did!" The Valkyrie called back through the door, "Nora has it in Nora's backpack!"

"She does not." Ren sighed, holding up a little folder and then tucking it into Nora's pink bag, "Ren is putting it in there."

"Nora appreciates it!"

"Jaune hates this…"

"Well, Pyrrha finds it quite charming."

"Mort is just happy to be here and not in a box!"

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"Now that you have completed your readings, or at least ought to have, considering the paper assignment I gave you, we can move on from how the Great War was fought to a better question." Oobleck smiled and turned to gesture to the large, bold words written across his board. "Why was the war fought, and who was at fault?"

"Oh, I was dreading this part…"

"Rest assured, Miss Schnee, I won't settle for an answer as childish and simplistic as 'Mantle' or anything of the sort." Doctor Oobleck chuckled, pacing back and forth at the front of the lecture hall with a wide smile. "No, no, I want to know what you, as individuals, believe is the root cause of the war. Lord Winchester, your thoughts?"

"Art." He answered without a moment's thought, "Not sayin' destroying it was good, but art is the source of the problem."

"Blaming art for the problem is like blaming a villager for getting mauled. Or a woman for getting assaulted." Blake argued quietly from a few rows away, "While I'm not surprised to hear it from you, but the logic still doesn't follow."

"What is that supposed to me-"

"Obviously, the fault lies with the woman who started the movement years before the war." Blake went on, ignoring the grumbling noble entirely. "Countess Isabella the Grimm Slayer, of fallen House Vedette. Her journal goes into great detail about how and why she banned art and expressionism in her fiefs along the western coasts. For unknown reasons, the Grimm's numbers dipped in the region, and she was convinced it was because of the art ban. The Grimm borne suffering of former House Lindel inland, a known patron of the arts, only convinced her and her followers, and that spread into Mantle."

"Just for the record," Cardin sighed, face pinched in an obvious effort not to net any more punishments, "I wasn't blaming the art. Just… Just saying that was the problem."

"A worthwhile correction," Oobleck nodded, "and Lady Belladonna will refrain from using her time to insult you or anyone else. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Very good." The Doctor nodded, "And your answers were close. Art was blamed, and thus used to excuse the fighting, but it wasn't the source. And Lady Vedette was the origin of the ideology that caused the conflict, but also isn't the cause. Does anyone else-"

"The Grimm." Yang suddenly cut the man off. Instead of being offended, though, he smiled pleasantly and waved for her to elaborate. "The Grimm's attacks caused Vedette to get those ideas in her head, and their attacks justified them too, since they hit House Lindel harder. Everyone that joined her did it because of the Grimm, too. So at the end of the day, it was people slap fighting with artillery they should'a been using on the real problem."

"Precisely." Doctor Oobleck nodded and even clapped, smiling widely, "And very well explained as well! Extra marks on your next assignment, Miss Xiao Long."

"Extra-" The blonde clapped, too, and whooped loudly, "Whoo, extra cred!"

"Miss Xiao Long…"

"R-Right." The brawler laughed awkwardly, "Sorry, Doc."

"Forgiven, due to your excellent answer." The man nodded, turning to speak to the class at large as he paced, one finger held up for them all to see. "Art was hated by the Mantlelian movement not because of what it, in and of itself, represented. But because of what it showed. Conflict, emotion, the Human-"

"Ahem."

"Apologies, Lady Belladonna, the sentient condition." Doctor Oobleck amended smoothly, bowing his head in a silent thanks for the correction. A thanks that seemed genuine, too, but then Jaune supposed he was the type. "Do forgive me, I was raised and taught Mistrali and Hertsrom, while a great philosopher, was a bit Human centric. And old lessons stick deeply, you understand."

"My family knows that more than most, Sir." Blake smiled, "And think nothing of it. I apologize for interrupting."

"Nonsense, the correction was warranted." The man smiled back, humming and turning back to the class without another thought for it. "As I was saying, they feared what art showed, not art itself. Unfortunately, tragically, they showed the very same faults they feared art showing by attempting to stifle it. Does anyone know what the brief period leading up to the Great War was called?"

"Die wärmsten Nächte von Solitas." Weiss answered quietly, translating when Oobleck gestured to her, "The Warmest Nights of Solitas. So named because of… All the bonfires made of all the artwork the revolutionaries seized from homes and museums. It's often also referred to as the Nacht des schreienden Künstlers."

"The night of the screaming artists." Oobleck nodded solemnly, "Named thusly because of all the murdered poets, authors, painters and sculptors that could not escape Mantle. And who were murdered and often, according to rumor, burned with their art."

"That's awful…" Pyrrha murmured lowly, "How could anyone do something like that to other people?"

He had to resist the urge not to point out how Mistral had treated her… And it was hard to do, too.

"After the initial riots, there was a coup, which intensified the riots to come." Oobleck went on quietly, "But never once did those Mantlelians consider why they were doing these things. Why they were hurting their fellows. The Grimm."

"And all of this has been a long form attempt to teach every man and woman in this room the same, very important lesson. The one Mantle didn't grasp. The one some in this world, and even this very class, fail to grasp even now." The look he turned on his class now was long and slow, and seemed to linger on several of them. Cardin was an obvious one, but it landed on Jaune himself for a heartbeat longer than was comfortable before he moved on and he heard a few others shuffling around him as well. Finally, Oobleck spoke, "Tonight, I want you all to do an analytical paper on the influences the Grimm had on the Great War. Tomorrow, we will review some of the drier, more factual information ahead of moving to the Faunus Rights Revolution by the end of the week."

Several of the students in the room groaned at that, but that at least signalled the end of the class. As they stood, gathering their things and preparing to head out, a voice called out from the door, "A moment before you all leave, if you please."

The quiet chatter died down and they all turned to Headmaster Ozpin, who paced into the room slowly with a grim look on his face.

"As you all know, Beacon strives to be a place of many peoples, cultures and backgrounds." He started quietly, hard eyes roving over the class until they found Cardin's team and settled. "Some among us, though, cannot stomach this. So, Lord Winchester, you are to report to my office in one hour for a meeting about your tenure here."

"Why-"

"And on a related note, Lord Arc, I require you and Miss Nikos in my office in ten minutes." Ozpin cut the young Hunter hopeful off, frown deepening almost into a scowl. "Miss Nikos, bring your paperwork and your grade regulator."

"M-May I ask why...?"

"You'll find out details in my office, but for now, you know you're under review." The man sighed, turning to leave, "And hopefully you all understand why."

As the man left, every single eye in the room turned to Cardin, who scowled and threw his hand up at them as he stormed away. Most had no idea what was going on, and murmured confusedly among their team, but everyone could at least guess Cardin would be on the wrong side of the problem. Jaune stared daggers into his back as he went, and he wasn't the only one, but he didn't say anything to him. Instead, he turned to Pyrrha and smiled.

"Don't worry." He smiled, "We'll figure this out."

"Or burn this bitch down." Mort whispered in his ear, "Definitely probably one of those."

"I hope so. But when a student is reviewed, they don't usually… Pass." Pyrrha murmured, letting him tug her into a hug and sighing into his chest. After a second, she pushed away and smiled, "But if anyone can find a way to prevent this from becoming a greater problem, it's my fearless leader."

"Yeah," he nodded, "I'll find a way out for you."

Even if he couldn't think of one now...

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Zenith Tempest :

I have sort of found a niche for crossover stories, haven't I? Anyway, the hook up until now has just been exploring an - in my opinion, at least - interesting world. Which will continue throughout in various ways. The next hook, for a short while at least, ought to be apparent.

I tried to get across that the Hermit Prince was moving very quickly, which Goodwitch stated was his weakness. Fast, very well armored and relatively strong, opponents. If I failed that, sorry, but mostly I wanted him to be pushed far enough for Pyrrha to step in the way she did.

Also, his major asset in the field was Mort's magic, which he limits the use of here. So make of his strength what you will, bearing that in mind.

Paradox Reader :

Jaune here is based on a 'myrmidon' or 'swordmaster' archetype from Fire Emblem. Most of those lack shields. I used them as a template in his design. As for spells, I alternate between Pathfinder and DnD accidentally, since I've played neither. Advice on what spells would be good for what is always welcome!

Sebine :

Mort is a good, er, sword phantom.