Big oof gamers, this is a few days late. Sorry about that.

I'm not sure if everyone can tell, but there is quite a bit of Homebrew D&D in this fic, as well as me adapting D&D into a way that I feel works for the story, so condolences in advance if people don't like that. Enjoy!

The jaws snapped shut, as Vulkahn swallowed a chunk of raw meat Jaune had thrown to him, molten orange tongue licking his chops in satisfaction. He rumbled contentedly as Jaunes blackish grey gauntlet scratched him under the chin, and eliciting something similar to a dog panting when Pyrrha joined in behind his two horns.

"Woah!" Nora shouted, bounding up to Vulkahn, who squared his shoulders and eyed the aggressively energetic girl with suspicion, "what's that?"

"It looks like a lizard dog!" Ruby answered, dashing up to the magma drake, who seemed to be getting nervous, his magmic glow becoming brighter and hotter.

"But it's on fire!" Yang said, elbowing Ruby out of the way to get a good look at Vulkahn, who was now slowly backing up towards Jaune and Pyrrha, "That's soooo cool!"

"Hey Jaune, can I pet him?" The blonde asked, batting her eyelashes at the knight, who rolled his eyes and responded.

"Just don't annoy him." He called back, "If he melts your gauntlets, that's on you."

"Melts my gauntlets?" Yang asked incredulously, "how hot do you think-"

Blarp

"Shit," Jaune hissed to himself as he watched Vulkahn throw up, the drake hacking up a small puddle of magma and a charred, semi digested hunk of meat, "I can never tell my meats apart…"

"Woah woah woah!" Yang yelled, hands raised as she backpedaled form the small puddle of lava, now rapidly cooling on the ground, "Did that thing just vomit?"

"That thing," Jaune said as he glared at Yang, as he soothingly rubbed his companions back, the magma drake rumbling in contentment and smug satisfaction, "is named Vulkahn. And yes, he did vomit."

"He doesn't handle certain foods too well…" The knight continued as Nora poked at the charred meat with a stick, "Think I accidentally gave him mutton..."

"Uh hey Jaune?" Pyrrha said, looking over her shoulder, "You might want to get him out of here. Ozpin is coming and he looks worried."

"Crap…" Jaune hissed, swiftly beginning to cast a spell known as Desummon, a rather useful trick created by Lord Acererak for storing creatures, functioning kind of like a watered down, less harsh version of Banishment, "I was worried about that."

"Jaune, what is going on here?" The headmaster said, the grip on his cane tightening visibly, just as Vulkahn faded out of existence.

"Nothing much Headmaster." He said, as Ozpin frowned slightly.

"Really?" He asked, a hint of sarcasm worming its way into his voice, "Then what happened to that thing you rode up the cliff?"

"Oh that?" Jaune said, trying and failing to feign ignorance, "I just uh...de...summoned...it…?"

From behind the headmaster, Glynda glared.

"Qrow's a slippery bastard," Raven admitted, as she sat down across from Morrigan in her tent, "as you know by now."

"That we do." Morrigan sighed, rubbing her forehead as one of Ravens tribesman brought a try with tea on it. "Should we be worried?"

"Yes and no," Raven said, pausing momentarily to shoo the man who brought the tea away, "The good news is that Qrow is not very...complicated."

"How so?" Morrigan leaned forward, "A man capable of Polymorphing himself on a whim sounds like quite an adversary."

"I meant his motives." The Branwen Tribe leader explained further. "He works for Ozpin gathering intelligence, but beyond his skill, that's about it. He doesn't have any huge ambitions, he just follows Ozpins orders." She said, with no small amount of distaste.

"Then I assume Ozpin is the one to be careful about."

"Yes." Raven took a tiny sip of her tea, wincing slightly when the still too hot liquid reached her lips. "He's got a...secret society."

"Secret society?" Morrigan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Beyond Ozpin, Qrow and Glynda, I don't know who's even in it. I don't know what they want either, they keep things very well hidden."

"That does sound like a problem," Morrigan admitted, taking a sip of tea to be polite, "I suppose we can't just meet with Ozpin?"

"Not if what you did to Qrow and that bullhead is true."

"Well then-" She was cut off by the sound of her scroll buzzing, harshly rattling against the plate armor she wore. She drew it out of a small, rectangular pouch on her hip, and answered it.

"Hello?" She said, a little annoyed about the interruption.

"Lady Morrigan, I need you back in Vale as soon as you can be," Came the deep voice of Lord Acererak, "we may have a problem."

"Of course my Lord," The annoyance evaporating in a millisecond, "should I bring Lady Branwen?"

"If possible, yes." At this Morrigan looked over to the swordswoman, raising an eyebrow, to which the black haired bandit nodded.

"She will be joining us, yes." The female nevermore confirmed, as the two stood up from the table, as Morrigan bid Acererak farewell and hung up. The two swiftly finished their tea and exited the tent.

Quickly, the low hum of a bullhead reached their ears, swiftly growing in volume as it drew closer and closer. Raven looked up, and saw a heavily modified bullhead, the main body layered in heavy, angular plates, and the whole thing painted a solid shade of black, with an olive green symbol drawn on the sides.

The symbol was composed of a circle, and a small cross inside it. The horizontal bars of the cross had a small dot between it and the circle's edge, while the top and lower bars of the cross were tipped with what looked like a U, and another, much smaller circle with a line running three quarters of the way through it.

"I assume that's our ride?" Raven asked as the bullhead landed, the back door folding down into a ramp. The inside was decorated with utilitarian black leather upholstery and a rack of spare parachutes.

"It is," Morrigan said as she reached the ramp, "come on!" She said, waving.

"Lord Acererak is waiting."

"Led by…" The voice of Ozpin stopped for a second as he looked down at his scroll, "Ruby Rose!"

Simultaneously, both Ruby and Weiss's eyes opened, both in surprise and disbelief. Ruby's surprise however, was cut short when Yang scooped her up in a bearhug.

"I'm so proud of you!" She gushed, much to the displeasure of her younger sister.

"And that concludes the ceremony," the headmaster said, his tone of voice already wrapping things up, "I'll now ask all of you to make your way to your dorms, and get a good night's sleep, tomorrow will be the start of your life at Beacon. Thank you."

"I swear Jaune's armor looked different during the initiation…" Pyrrha muttered to herself as she looked at the set of black plate armor. It just looked too bulky now. It seemed rotund, and much wider than when Jaune was wearing it. The gauntlets looked way oversized, and the chest was now barrel shaped, not like the slim, form fitting look it had just a few hours earlier.

"Yeah," Nora interjected, humming a little as she skipped over to it, "it looks...fat."

"Nora." Came the voice of Ren, who was sitting on the bed on the boys side of the dorm. "That's mean."

"But Reeeeeeen," Nora groaned, "it's true, come look!"

Huffing to himself, Ren rolled his pink eyes, he lifted himself off his bed and strode over to the armor on Jaune's side. He narrowed his eyes, and frowned, tenderly picking up the chestpiece.

"This is," he grunted a little as he moved to use both hands, "very heavy...This stuff can't be easy to wear, especially with his chainmail."

"But look how big his gloves are!" Nora said, picking up one and putting it on. "It's huge!"

As she spoke, the gauntlet shifted, the metal contorting and shrinking, until it formed a skin tight fit around her relatively smaller hand.

"Wooooah…" Nora mumbled, stars in her eyes as she looked at the gauntlet, now a super form fitting metal glove, the cool metal resting comfortably against her skin.

"Wow." Pyrrha said, almost at a loss for words.

"Ren!" Nora snapped, a maniacal grin on her face as she turned to her partner. "Put it on!"

Ren looked down at the huge chestpiece in his hands and sighed. Now that Nora had her mind set, nothing short of a stack of pancakes would deter her now. Resigned to the act, he slipped the barrel shaped torso over his head and arms.

"Pyrrha look!" The ginger grabbed the red headed spartan and turned her attention to Ren, as the metal shifted, shrinking and deforming, until it was tightly wrapped around his body, shifting and moving as he did, like a second skin.

"Can you breath in that?" Pyrrha asked incredulously, as Nora ran her hand over the armor, watching as it shifted ever so slightly as Ren breathed.

"I'd sure hope he could," came Jaunes voice, having gotten dressed in a pair of denim pants, leather boots, and a plain grey shirt, a white towel in his hand, blond hair still damp from his shower, "That might make things difficult."

"Oh!" Nora yelped, whipping around to face the team leader, "Hiii Jaune!"

"Nora," Jaune sighed, as the ginger stood in front of Ren, in an attempt to hide him, "I can still see him."

"We're here." Morrigan said, as the door to the bullhead opened, forming a ramp to the ground. She and Raven disembarked, and entered the once abandoned warehouse, through a door flanked by two heavily armored guards, former White Fang by the looks of it, but now dressed in solid black and grey plate mail.

"Lady Morrigan," came the deep, booming voice of Acererak, "punctual as always."

"I try, Lord Acererak," she said, bowing, before waving Raven forward, "Lady Raven is with me."

"Lady Raven of the Branwen Tribe," the lich said, rising from his throne, "I've heard quite a lot about you. It's wonderful to finally meet face to face."

"The feeling is mutual," the bandit responded, taking a seat at the table, trying vainly to not be intimidated by the ten foot necromancer in the room, "so what's going on?"

"We are just waiting for Jaune," Acererak said, sitting back down, the skeleton of some python like creature slowly coiling around the back of his obsidian throne, "then we can begin."

"Could they really not wait until the weekend?" Jaune grumbled to himself as he snuck through the darkened halls of Beacon. He'd received a message on his scroll to meet with Lord Acererak and Lady Morrigan as soon as he could.

So now he found himself creeping down the empty corridors of the school, amour softly clanking despite his best efforts. It's not like he was built for stealth after all, being just over six foot and wearing a suit of armor, with chainmail underneath.

Then he paused. Something didn't feel right. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the halls as best he could, looking for anything. It felt like someone was...watching him. Like a presence was just out of view, a being he could feel, but not see.

Slowly, he drew his sword, the metal softly scraping against the wood and leather, the familiar weight of his blade bringing some comfort. He waited for a full two minutes in absolute silence before he dared to move, one foot at a time.

'And where do you think you're going?' Blake thought to herself as she watched Jaune creep down the hall. As a notoriously light sleeper, the sound of his armor gently moving past the door was more than enough to wake her.

She moved carefully, exiting the room unnoticed, and began to follow the knight down the halls. He was moving slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible as he crept through the halls. But after a few minutes he stopped.

He looked around, like he was trying to find her. His eyes flitted over her body for just a second, his golden eyes glowing in the dark as the passed over her hidden form. Blake held her breath as his hand closed around the hilt of his sword, as he drew it out of the scabbard painfully slowly, producing a muted scraping noise.

Two full minutes passed before Jaune resumed moving, one foot at a time, gently carrying him down the hall. Blake waited until he was around the corner before she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

Again she followed him, through some more hallways, around a corner, down two flights of stairs and to a small side door, where Jaune stopped. He slid his sword back into its scabbard, and raised his right hand, which began to heat up.

Steam rose from the joints in his armor as his gauntlet began to heat up, the black metal shifting to a dull red, then a brighter orange, eventually transitioning to brilliant glowing white. Jaune then placed his palm on the lock, and waited, Blake watching carefully from the shadows as the metal handle began to heat up as well.

After a few seconds, Jaune removed his hand, and smiled to himself as he looked at the locking mechanism, now glowing a bright orange. His gauntlets quickly cooled down, and once they were back to their usual black color, he pushed, the glowing hot lock now offering no resistance, as Jaunes push bent the deadbolt like a stick of butter.

The door swung open, showing a winding, wooded path through a courtyard, the stone walk disappearing around a corner, where it would most likely lead to the bridge just out the main doors.

Jaune stepped out the doorway, and raised his hand, soft red light coalescing in his palm, becoming sharper and sharper as it formed into a circular shape, eventually becoming a clear series of glowing red lines, hovering about a half-foot in front of his hand as a sharp, clear image of an angular rune encased in a circle.

As he spoke under his breath, muttering a phrase in what might have been another language, Blake snuck forward, now just behind the doorway. As Jaune spoke to himself, the symbol faded into view on the ground in front of him, suddenly flashing bright enough to force Blake to cover her eyes.

When the glow faded, Jaunes demented pet was standing there. Vulkahn, if she remembered correctly, the wolf stanced fire lizard. Fifteen feet of obsidian scale, glowing magma and fire, white hot talons hissing as they scorched the ground beneath them, eye glowing like coals in the night, the ridge of seething flame running down its back stopping only for a moment as Jaune somehow pulled a full sized leather saddle out of a pouch on his waist.

He secured it to the lizard, tightening the straps that ran around his underside, and a couple that ran around the back of its head, looping around its horns tightly, giving Jaune some reigns to hold. Now with the saddle secure, the knight pulled himself up, sitting comfortable on the dragons mid back.

He gently whispered something to his pet drake, and the beast shot off, breaking into a dead sprint across the courtyard, white hot talons kicking up dirt, and a trail of fire crackling in the air behind it as it bounded around the corner.

Only when she was positive they were out of range, did Blake move to stop the recording.

"Hiyah!" Jaune shouted as Vulkahn jumped onto the stone bridge, claws leaving long scratches in the stonework. But he ran on, the straightness of the bridge allowing the magma drake to reach his top speed on stone, nearing 40 miles an hour, becoming little more than a trail of fire between the two rows of street lamps.

As they neared the commercial district of Vale, Vulkahn slowed down, and once he had an opening, leapt onto the top of one of the smallest buildings, giving him easy access to the rooftops, bypassing the light traffic entirely.

Vulkahn lost no speed, leaping across rooftops and climbing higher into the night sky, at one point scaring the shit out of a couple of pigeons who'd had the honor of getting a fly by singeing. Jaune whooped and shouted as the air rushed past his hair, the wind fluttering in his waistcloth as Vulkahn leapt onto the corrugated metal roof of a warehouse, now only a half block or so from his destination.

"Down there Vulkahn!" The knight shouted, pointing to the back loading bay of a warehouse. The drake rumbled and leapt, jumping off the roof and landing on the pavement, talons tearing ruts in the blacktop as the magma drake skidded to a full stop.

"You're late." Came the stern voice of Morrigan, her, Acererak, Zalthar, Adam, Roman and Raven having just exited the building.

"I'm sorry Lady Morrigan," Jaune said, dismounting Vulkahn, "but in my defense, Beacon is built like a labyrinth."

"It matters not," interjected Zalthar, "what does matter is that Sir Jaune is here, and out meeting can proceed."

"The reports are not conclusive as of right now," said the vampire as Acererak steepled his gauntleted hands, "but current information coupled with civilian reports show that something has followed us through."

"Well that's not good." Roman said, digesting the information that someone or something from his new bosses world had snuck through to Remnant.

"If we are lucky, it is nothing worse than a troll." Acererak said, deep voice echoing throughout the mostly empty warehouse. "But we need to be on our guard, all of us."

"The only thing we know for certain is that it is not a person," Morrigan said, jumping in to the conversation, "so we won't have to worry about any paladins ruining everything."

"How would these, paladins, be a threat?" Raven asked, lounging in her chair. "I don't know about you," she said, gesturing to Jaune, "but I wouldn't be very worried about one person."

"That's not the problem," Jaune responded, "most paladins are real charming, they evangelize quickly."

"I'm guessing it's not their skill, it's their influence." Adam said, drawing a couple nods from the attendants.

"A paladin led force could prove disastrous for our operations." Came the voice of Acererak again. "If they could gain enough support, hypothetically, they could force us to come out of hiding prematurely."

"But it's not a paladin, so we're good?" Roman said, a light smile on his face.

"Again, that depends on what exactly has followed us through," said Zalthar, "most likely, it is nothing more than a simple orc or goblin, nought more than a minor threat to anyone."

A lone beowulf stalked through the moonlit woods, prowling about the skeletal and ashen remains of the Emerald Forest, the raging fire having been defeated a few days before. The grimm growled, red eyes scanning the surrounding environment, looking for anything to sink its teeth into.

About two dozen feet or so behind it, came a sharp noise. The grimm whipped its head around, growling in warning at the sudden sound. Baring its teeth, the black wolf walked forward, crimson eyes honed in on the exact spot of the sound.

Its focus locked on the corpse of a tree in front of it, the grimm failed to acknowledge another sound, this one like a deep, rumbling hiss, infused with a sound like dragging a blade across stone. It was the only warning the grimm received.

Within a moment, a shape surged forward, accompanied by a sound like metal scraping across metal, moving deceptively fast for something of its size, turning the grimm to ribbons in a split-second, the beowulf not even having time to howl, it's plight unseen amidst the dark, and the glinting of moonlight on silver.

The shredded remains of the grimm beneath it, the dark, shrouded being roared, unleashing a ear piercing cry, like a thousand knives being sharpened at once, each one echoing and overlapping itself, giving the roar no definite end or beginning.

Its quarry dispatched, the creature slinked off, nimble form and agile limbs allowing it to weave between the twisted graveyard of a forest, as it disappeared into the night.