The first of the black, wolf like creature died impaled on his blade. The second lost its head, and the third was bisected. The fourth he cleaved from shoulder to pelvis. The fifth he bashed in the head with his shield.
The creature however refused to die. Its jaw broken, it lunged at him. His activated Storm Shield came up and he felt a heavy impact against his shield arm. He bashed forward one more time, and the disruptor field sparked as the animal's head finally caved in.
It should have done so in the first blow. Something was very wrong here. It had been a second since he impaled the first beast, but dozens more were lunging at him.
He slashed and kicked left and right, but his kicks did little to deter the strange, black lupines. By all rights, they should have crumpled, bones broken. Anything less than an Ork nob or Tyranid warrior or Ogryn could not survive such a kick. But these animals shrugged of as if it was made by a human. A Catachan could kill with a force of one kilo-Newton. An Astartes was hundreds of times stronger. The wolf-thing should have been at least sent flying.
But it was trying to rip his face off. He quickly fed it the edge of his holy blade. Ten more long seconds passed, and he was aware that the corpses were starting to decay before his very autosenses. They were turning into black smoke, and in his nostrils he smelled, however faintly, the sweet-rotten stench of the Warp.
These were not mere mutated wolves. The Warp was in them, and it was in them deep. "Abominations! Cleanse, Purge, Kill!"
By the time he was victorious, his armour's reserves were running at two percent. His shield drained on his power reserves, for warp-infused claws were well known to rend through even Terminator armour, if one got careless.
He quickly stepped over the dissipating corpses. These things were durable beyond the laws of nature. He suddenly realised that if not for the blessed blade, he may not have triumphed without grievous, maybe crippling injury. It was a sobering thought.
Aramus quickly made his way to the clearing and started professionally looting the corpses, gathering everything that looked useful. Devices that looked like communicators. Small, regularly manufactured items that looked like coloured tarot cards, but must be money.
He loaded everything onto the truck and tried to squeeze into the cockpit of the rickety vehicle, but without success. With a heavy sigh, Aramus started pushing the truck.
Cyana was bleeding out. She knew it even as she sped towards Vale City. It took all her remaining strength to just keep the bike from carthweeling into a tree.
She thought about her parents in the slums of Menagerie, she thought about never seeing them again. She did not even want to think on the monster. She did not knew what it was. A new type of Grimm? A secret weapon by Atlas? Who knew. She did not want to know.
It took her five minutes to speed into the city, leaving the policemen, or as she called them, donut pigs, gaping after the speeding bike. She stopped near one of the shadier alleyways of the Commercial district. She had to get to the hospital, even if the White Fang outfit meant her arrest. But she collapsed before she could hatch any plan.
The first thing Blake Belladonna heard was a pained gasp for air. Quick as a cat, she was standing beside the wounded Faunus girl in less than a minute. She was barely an adult, with lightly tanned skin and cyan blue hair that must have been once beautiful. Now she was covered in blood and filth, her clothes torn, and a gaping wound in her left side.
She knew something was wrong instantly. Grimm would have finished her off. A Huntress or a policeman would not have left her to die like this, even if some cops were rotten scumbags. "Hey! Its okey. I'll get you some help." Blake took out her scroll and quickly sent off a message, before tearing a strip off her clothes to at least stem the flow of blood. The girl muttered deliriously about some monster... was that a chunk of liver stuck in her hair?!
Warp damn it, I am a Space Marine, not a loader servitor. Pushing the truck was not hard, even without the fiber bundles, but it was definately undignified. Pushing a mighty tank like a Baneblade or a Predator was more fitting for a Hero of the Imperium. Or at least so Aramus fumed.
Three kilometers from the city he noticed an abandoned house on a nearby hill, and quickly pushed the truck up to the half collapsed edifice. It was an extremely primitive dwelling that would have been an insult to the dignity of even the lowest of Chapter Serfs, but it had a large cellar that opened to an outdoors trapdoor.
He quickly carried all the loot he captured from the insurgents into the basement. He looked over the capture, noting the company logo 'Dustco, a partner to the Schnee Dust Company' on its side. The crates did not look Imperial, and were full of all manner of odd vials and, most important of all, ammunition of every colour and size. Thanked be the Holy Emperor, he thought.
Quickly catalogueing his find, he took stock of the situation.
First, no Imperial insignias. No Vox network. Non standard vehicle patterns. The absence of one was not proof, but all three details pointed to the fact that this was unlikely to be an Imperial World.
Second, the mutants could rob a shop in the city. This meant mutants were not shot on sight. This in turn suggested that his size would not elicit too much attention, at least not as much as his holy warplate. A non imperial city full of anti tank guns was not a welcome prospect, even for one such as hims. One lascannon was not a problem. A hundred was almost certain death, they would hit him enough by sheer luck.
But if they were not Imperial, perhaps they would not recognise him without the signature armour for what he was. Bile rose in his throat and his fists clenched. If pressed, he could pass as a mutant. The whole thought was unholy, but as Cyrus said, Duty comes before everything else. No matter how distasteful said duty be.
After carefully observing the surrounding for any of the wolf demons or more mutants, he became convinced that the area was for the moment, safe. First he pushed the now empty truck into the nearby barn. He found that it had no fuel as he understood it, nor any energy cells or plasma reactors. The smell of the open fuel tank told him that it was the same colourful dust as the bullets and vial's contents were made of.
Perhaps it was some sort of explosive. Perhaps there was a way to turn it into a power source. Perhaps he did not need to become a Lamenter, after all.
After hiding the truck, he took inventory of the house. It was moldy, dirty and covered in dust. It also had a small weapons rack with a few not too corroded swords and some clothes that he could make an outfit from. He quickly went to work, and after two hours, managed to cobble together a vest, some baggy pants and a robe. Almost all material was garish enough to offend even a Craftworld Eldar, but after a long search he found enough blank grey linen to work with.
The last part of his plan was pushing a ten ton boulder next to the house. He went down into the basement with the makeshift outfit and slowly, revently took off his armour and weapons. For half an hour he prayed to the Emperor and Omnissiah, entreating them to watch over his wargear until his return.
He quickly dressed and armed himself with an aged shortsword, which in truce was most likely a two handed claymour of fine make, since it was clearly not rusting yet. He also picked up one of the containers that held the strange vials and pocketed all the coin cards. Last but not least, he took up one of the fancy looking autoguns the mutants had and some ammunition for it.
Ready for whatever heresy would confront him, or so he thought, Aramus climbed out of the cellar and pushed the boulder on top of the trapdoor. He planned to be back in a few hours, which was not enough time for any human to actually move the thing, mutant or no. But before going to the city, he had one last thing to do. Aramus knelt down, one hand on the hilt of his blade, the other in front of his face.
Without Dark, there can be no Light,
We have purpose.
Without Lie, there can be no Truth,
We have purpose.
Without War, there can be no Victory,
We have purpose.
Without Death, there can be no Sacrifice,
We have purpose.
Without Faith there can be no Honour,
We have purpose.
Without Loyalty there can be no Chapter,
We have purpose.
Without the Emperor, there is nothing,
And we would have no purpose.
He solemnly said his prayer, kneeling before Him on Earth. He bowed his head forward and stood up, before taking off in a light jog towards the city.
Blake had left the White Fang and had no love left for Adam Taurus, but she was not one to let a girl bleed out. She still knew Faunus who would help a sister in need. At least she did manage to stop the bleeding, but her worry only grew as the nameless girl lost consciousness.
A rusty and rather dubious looking van pulled into the alley, and a large Faunus with a pig tail stepped out. "What did that to her?" Was his first sentence, his manners forgotten at the sight of the torn wound. "No idea. Do you got a spare set of clothes?" Asked Blake, glad that it was Tangerine Truffle who managed to come.
The man was not a fighter unless one considered pie a mortal enemy, but he was as good hearted as a person can be.
Propably why he had left the White Fang long before me, thought Blake. "We'll get her into something less... illegal while we drive her to the hospital. Young Faunus girl, found wounded and without clothes. Nobody will ask questions. You go get back to Beacon, Miss Belladonna. It is way past curfew."
Blake let a relieved smile show on her face, before waving goodbye to her friend. "Keep in touch, big guy!" It was time to get back to the Academy.
Two guards looked at him as he moved to the entrance of the walled city, but decided against bothering as they glared at his rather unprepossessing robes. But they made no move to interrogate him, so he continued confidently forward.
The small town was lightly defended with a wall as tall as a larger Knight, and not much else. The people, mutant or human, looked even more garish than he expected. Even their hair carried absurd amounts of colour, whenever by mutation or abuse of paint, he knew not.
But they did not bother him, most likely because even the tallest man came only up to his chest. He did not see any signs with the 'Dustco' crest on it, so in order to advance his plan, he had to ask the locals. He approached a middle aged man with the most disturbing pink hair, and nodded his head at the rather frightened looking fellow.
"Pray tell me citizen, which way should I head to find the fine craftman of this Dustco establishment? I wish to return his lost property to him." The man certainly looked at him oddly, before deciding that the request seemed harmless.
"Just go to Unity Plaza... you aren't from around here, are you? All right. You see that big building? That is the Vale Royal hospital. The plaza is a hundred meters to the north of it."
"I thank you for your cooperation." He replied, which only elicited another strange look. The locals not only looked strange, but acted strange. Perhaps this world was never part of the Imperium to begin with. The habitats looked primitive, the vehicles looked fragile, and there was not even the slighest hint of Imperial symbols. Thank the Emperor, there weren't any Chaotic or known Xenos signs either.
As he neared the richer parts of the Commercial district, he had to rething the primitive part. The streetlamps were actually hololithic illusions. Such a frivolous use of ancient archeotech he had only ever seen in the Govermental palaces of the wealthiest of planets. Certainly not in a backwater like this.
He needed information, and he needed it badly. He prayed to the Emperor that the shopkeeper would be grateful enough to help him.
Braun Wellington was having the worst day of his life. His shop's security system alerted him to the robbery half past midnight. By the time the police and he arrived, there was nothing left but smashed windows.
The shop had been in his family's keeping for five generations. Yesterday he was planning on buying a bike to her sister's wedding, but now he will not be able to buy her and her girlfriend anything more than a few flowers. Cheap flowers at that. He was ruined. He sat down on the pavement and put his head in his hands.
How will they pay the bills? How will his wife get the new pair of glasses she needed after braking the current one? How will their son get a present for his birthday in two weeks?
His wife and his son joined him an hour later. Three devastated faces looked at the detectives snooping around the scene. The only thing holding back the tears was the presence of his son.
Braun suddenly heard his wife gasp and the detectives turn as a shadow fell over them.
"I am looking for the shopkeeper of Dustco." Aramus said instead of a greeting, as he surveyed the scene. The strangely clad officials must be the local law enforcement. Astartes were masters in all forms of warfare, but not in people skills. Yet even he could guess that the weepingchild, woman and almost crying man must be the shop's owner and his family, or the servants of the shopkeeper.
"I'm Wellington... Braun Wellington... wait, is that one of my lockers?" The man looked up at him in surprise, and he nodded. "I have found it in the forest. I take it this is yours."
The slightly balding, brown haired man nodded, before getting up and promptly doing the unthinkable. He was hugging him! A Lord amongst Angels!
"Oh thank you! Thank you. You saved my shop, you saved my family!" The man could no longer hold back, and started to tear up like a stricken child.
After a few seconds, the man managed to got a hold of himself and removed himself from a mortified Aramus. "Do not do that again. Please."
"I'm sorry, but with that I can save my shop. It will not be easy but we will manage, thank the heavens."
"Your goods I give back to you freely. But pray tell, when the sun is up, you will answer a few questions for me, will you not? I am a long way from home." The little man nodded eagerly, before going over the stolen casket much to the lawmen's dismay. "Hey, watch out for the fingerprints!"
One of the local law enforcement officers were approaching him, but he detected no hostility, beside the usual surprise at his outfit. "Good evening. I'm Detective Plumbury of the VPD. I would like to request any information you have on the crime."
Luckily for the Emperor's Chosen, he may have been horrible with people skills, but he could think fast. Very fast.
"I am Aramus, and I am a... hunter. I was walking the forest when I found this chest. There were corpses being eaten by black beasts, and they were most fierce. The corpses wore masks and had a white and black outfit. I have returned to the shopkeeper what I could." He replied, which was not a complete lie. Well not all of it.
"Dust damned White Fang again. Well at least the Grimm saved animal control some trouble. You did take care of the Grimm, didn't you, Huntsman?" Asked the detective, though some of his fellow lawman seemed to be frowning. Aramus could not have known that the frowns were directed at the man's words, and not him.
"The foul creatues will cause no trouble. Neither will the ... Grimm." He replied, quite sure that the Grimm were meant to be the daemonic wolf creatures. At least the locals were not in leage with them, nor the mutants. Thank the Unknown Primarch for small mercies.
"Hah, at least not all you Huntsman are all sniffing your own farts about equality and all that bullshit. See guys this is a proper fella. He took care of two problems at once!" He laughed, and Aramus caught more than one of his co-workers muttering under their breaths. He had no idea what a 'bigot' was, but he was pretty sure about what 'asshole' meant. He decided to ignore it. This was none of his business.
"I most assuredly do not partake in scenting flatulence or manure." He replied, which caused another round of stares and a few chuckles. "But I should not cause you to tarry in your honourable task, Detective. Our duty is to protect Humanity."
He nodded his farewell, and moved out to what looked like a clothing store. He did realise he was sticking out like an ork on a Forge World. "Now I would take him over three of you pussies any day." He heard faintly the voice of Plumbury. "I'll take it you bane of donuts and gin! He can't be a bigger racist than you, Pukebury, and unlike you that guy will not faint after running for ten feet!"
Aramus had absolutely no idea what the local lawman were talking about, and he had a feeling he was better off that way. To his chagrin he found out that the shopkeepers for all clothing stores were soundly asleep at home, and the all night convenient store had no tailor to make something for him. Fuming at the weakness of mortals, he decided to scout the district.
As he was walking he saw a bunch of mutants. Deciding that he didn't need their stench in his nostril he quickly crossed over the street, when a gaggle of drunken teenagers almost crashed a car into him. He leapt aside only to crash into a a vivid yellow motorbike, which fared worse than he did, its expensive frame now thoroughly dented. He thought about going after them and tearing their spines out, but he had enough of Plumbury for the night.
Stealing that mug of beer may have been a bad idea, Yang thought, as she got out of the disco. She was no Uncle Qrow, but that seemed like a great idea with all the dancing. Happily humming to herself, the blissfully unaware girl stepped out only to see her beloved Bumblebee all banged up with a huge man picking himself up and dusting off his atrocius grey robes.
"What the fuck are you doing you moron?!" She screamed, leaping to her poor wounded baby and inspecting the damage. The priced bike was quite dented. "You are going to pay for that you jackass!"
The man got up to his full height. Fuck, he is huge, came to her mind. The guy must have been twice the size of Ruby, and in his late twenties or early thirties, as far as she could see under his grey hood. He was looking at her with a comically surprised expression. "I apologize for the damage done to your vehicle. However I do not have the spare funds to pay for repairs."
He also talked like a pompous jackass. His funds are too good for Bumblebee? Who did he think he was? Yang was quite furious. "Listen up you oaf, you are going to pay up or I'm going to punch it out of you!" It may have been the beer talking, as Yang had last drank any half a year before. Despite what the rumors said, she barely ever drunk alcohol.
The beefcake of a man gave a short, mocking snort at that. Propably not the wisest thing to do with a furious Yang. Enough was enough, and she gve the guy a shove. "You don't just go around wrecking other's stuff and than leaving it like an Ursa leaves its shit in the woods, you asswipe!" It felt like punching concrete. The man seemed to be made out of iron, barely pushed back by a shove that would have sent most people bowling over.
"Do not force me to kill you, foolish child." The man's voice was anything but friendly, and she suddenly found her feet dangling in the air. One moment she was on the ground, the other she was dangling with a vice like grip around her throat.
You did it now Yang, you ran into an oversized psycho without Ember Celica. "Killing a drunk girl, whoa that is real heroic of you, big guy. Like super heroic. So do it!"
The man brought her closer to his face. Dull brown eyes bored into violet. "You are as brave as you are foolish, juvenile. Now leave me be. I did not intend to break your vehicle." She was not too proud to admit that she was glad when she was dropped to the pavement.
"Hey, look, chill out dude. I'm kinda drunk and you just ruined my baby!" She fussed over the bike before letting out a loud curse that she would never have dared to utter in the presence of Ruby. She turned to him and took a good look. The man was not simply well built. He was a giant of heroic proportions, with the face of a warrior king. A handsome warrior king. Standing there in rags as if he was a prince in shining armour.
"My body temperature does not require cooling. It is well within the optimal range." Yang facepalmed at that. The fog of the beer parted long enough for her to realise how outlandish the man was. Did she just assault some overgrown tourist? "You are not from around here, are you?"
"I am not. I live... far away. I need what funds I have to get back to my warriors." Now I feel like an ass. This guy is clueless. She actually felt bad about the whole deal. That beer was definately a mistake, but the adrenaline surge of the previous alteraction had cleared her mind considerably. "Look dude, I'm sorry okey? I just... love that bike."
For a moment the large man paused. "I would be most incensed if someone damaged my wargear, even if by accident. I will spare your life, and be glad, for few have ever lived after laying a hand upon me."
Wow, that is pompous. He must be related to the Schnees. "I'm not a child you know! I'm seventeen!" She said with drunken gravitas. To her surprise, the man chuckled, but the laugh was not mocking this time. Being called a child by a relatively young man did bother her a lot, but she was sober enough now not to raise the issue. "Look, I'll buy you a drink okay?" She ventured. Yang was a good person, if one got through the rage.
"I do not require sustenance for approximately two standards weeks." Came the reply. The guy was really weird. Perhaps his Semblance was going without food? He should totally teach Ruby that trick. All those cookies don't grow on trees and they aren't exactly cheap, she mused. Ruby had picked up a taste for more and more expensive gourmet cookies lately.
"Now that we established that I absolutely suck at making first impressions, what's your name? I'm Yang, and I will be a Huntress!" Adrenaline was a wonderfully efficient way of getting sober fast, and now she realised that she had been quite out of control. The man looked at her for seconds, coming to a decision. "Ca.. Aramus." The reply was hesitant.
"That doesn't sound like a color. What language is it in?" The man seemed to come to a decision. "High Gothic, and why should it be related to colours?"
Now this was interesting, she thought. "You really aren't from around here, Ca Aramus. I owe you one for putting up with my rages, so come and lets get you something that's not a rag." The man was looking at her oddly, clearly not understanding. Just what tiny village did he came from? This will be interesting.
Striking a holy warrior of the Adeptus was a death sentence unless the offender was a very influential Magos or Inquisitor. But Aramus had the feeling that Plumbury would not agree with him, and he did not wish to become the target of a city wide manhunt. What would Scout Sergeant Cyrus do?
"I will accept your offer for aiding me. Thus will you redeemer yourself." He was secretly happy Avitus could not see him. The veteran Devastator would have given him a lecture or two, no matter the chain of command.
The young blonde woman was dressed in a short and quite revealing outfit. Like the rest of the citizen's outfits, it was garish in the extreme.
Her bust size would have impressed any Guardsmen, but Aramus was not human, at least not any more. Bust sizes did not sieze control of his brain as they would with a regular man's.
But as a man who made sure his hair was suitable well groomed, he could appreciate the long, flowing golden locks of the scantily clad blonde.
"Lets go to to the mall." She started to walk down the street, and Aramus looked at the dented bike. "What about your mount, Huntress Yang?" he inquired, and the girl could not hide a painful expression from showing on her face. "I'll gotta get Bumblebee tomorrow. If I get caught driving drunk and Dad finds out..."
Aramus simply leant down and picked up the bike. It weighted a little more than himself, and he lifted it without effort, holding the machine before his chest. "I can not spare you funding, but I can carry your mount to safety, Huntress Yang."
"Whoa man!" Yang could lift Bumblebee, but only when she was using her Semblance. The man had lifted it as if it was a gift basket, and seemed totally at ease holding three hundred kilograms upright. He had to be using his Aura, a powerful one at that. He looked at her, confused.
"Okey, follow me." She lead the strange person to the nearest mall. "So, where are you from?" His reply was less than helpful. "From far away, Huntress Yang."
"Why are you here?" She tried again, curiosity getting the better of her. "By accident, Huntress Yang." Was the equally useless reply.
"Can you keep up? My baby is quite heavy." She still wasn't sure how long he could carry the bike, and she did not want it to get dropped. "It weights but little." Came the reply.
The walk was spent in a rather awkward silence afterwards. Yang felt at once frustrated at his cryptic nature and reminded of how her father acted after the loss of his second wife. Some people just carried the weight of the world on their shoulders.
It was unsure who was more horrified, Aramus or the middle aged woman who had the unfortunate duty of pulling the midnight shift.
The clothes were all horrible, like something a Noise Marine have vomited together with a bunch of drunken Orks and eldar Harlequins. "What about this one?" Asked the blonde woman, pointing to something that made him gag. "Absolutely not, Huntress Yang!"
Shopping, Aramus found out, was as boring as it was time consuming, but finally he managed to get something muted enough for him to wear. Taking his findings, he squeezed himself into the changing room.
How could one not like shopping, Yang mused. Her new friend had finally settled for a rather drab pair of dark red pants and a bone white shirt, as well as two sandals.
'Smokey's XXXL' was apparently a brand made for the especially large Faunus gentlemen like those who shared bear traits. Shoes could not be helped, but a pair of sandals were still better than the legs he had wrapped around his feet before.
She had her first good look of Aramus when he stepped out into the bright light of the shop and she quickly came to the realisation that he was much bigger than the robes suggested.
The pants reached to his knees and the shirt left his forearms bare, which were thicker than a grown man's thighs. His face was truly handsome, in the manner of a noble lord's countenance with an aquilan nose, heavy brows and wide jaws. A thin scar ran under his left eye and there was what appared nothing less than a bullet lodged above his right eye.
Clad now in clean and proper clothing, he radiated an aura of noble lethality. He was a warrior prime, his back straight and his bearing utterly heroic. Yang was not ashamed to stare and nod to herself in appreciation. She will have to spar with such a magnificent specimen.
As the towering warrior turned to pay the timid cashier, she dropped one of the Lien coins. Fast as a viper, he caught it mid flight and flipped it so that it laned in her palm with the numeral facing upwards. Now that is coordination, she thought, and an idea came to her mind.
"Say Aramus, do you know how to roll a dice? I know a way to get us some more ... funding."
Ruby was trying unsuccessfully to get Weiss to play some video games with her. With Blake out to do Blake things and Yang having snuck out past curfew to party, Ruby first tried to combat her boredom with cookies, but unfortunately the supply was not infinite.
"Oh come on Weiss it will be fun! It will be so much fun, I'll let you win once!" She looked at her with bright silver eyes. The Heiress huffed cutely and shook her head. "I'm busy, you dolt! Besides video games are for young children."
Having been denied too long, Ruby decided to snatch her partner's Scroll. "Give that back you absolute pest!" Weiss get up from her bed and stomped her feet. She looked over the news feed while dodging the Heiress's attempts to recover her stolen property.
"Oooh hero Hunstman saves shop!" Ruby was now interested in the Scroll as well, just when Weiss managed to grab it from her. "Come on Ice Queen let me see too!"
"If you steal it again I am going to freeze you, you double dolt." Weiss huffed to herself, before letting Ruby close. The video showed an enormously large Huntsman returning stolen goods to save a poor shopkeeper.
Ruby knew that not all Hunters would have returned the goods. Some Hunters were jerks, though Uncle Qrow used much less flattering words for them. Plus the big guy only has rags and an old sword. He must be very brave to hunt without a nice Scythe gun, she thought.
Ruby's first expression was somewhat soured as the man called the White Fang mutants, now that was not a nice word to say to a Faunus. Not all commenters shared her view though as she read through them. Most of them did though. "That was a bit rude with the mutant comment."
CartheWinner: 'Yeah we need more cops like Plumbury, those animals are too good for a Grimm's belly!'
CocoAwesome: 'Fuck you Cardin! If I see you around Scarlet one more time I'm breaking your teeth in.'
TheCatBurgler: 'A Faunus woman was left dying in an alley because of bigots like Plumbury. How is he still on the VPD?'
Weiss scowled at Ruby. "They aren't all Blake you know. A lot of humans have valid reasons to dislike the White Fang." Something have stuck her about the bearing of the man. He carried himself like Winter, a noble warrior who demanded absolutely obidience and was used to receiving it.
Not even the rags could hide that, and there was also the size. While the peoples of Remnant were a very diverse lot, this one was larger than usual by far. His manners were more suited to an ancient noble knight from a fairy tale than anyone wearing ragged robes. Weiss had an eye for seeing through people's pretensions and see to their core, and this man was no commoner.
The night Aramus arrived to Vale went down in the history of the underworld as the 'Big Heist Night' after Yang directed her new friend in the fine arts of gambling with dice. Any other couple of gamblers would have been thrown out or knifed a dozen times over, but the name Yang was well known in the seedy bars, and the name Qrow was not a welcome one either. Coupled with the stature of her friend, even the boldest of mob bosses decided to cut their losses.
They were swimming in Liens by the time dawn broke above Vale and Aramus brought her bike to the Academy. "All right big guy. Here is half of it." She handed Aramus enough Lien to last most people for months. Bumblebee was not only getting fixed, but her baby will be getting a tune up as well.
"I trust this will cover your damaged mount, Huntress Yang?" Asked the large warrior, smoke coiling around his face. Yang got him a pair of sunglasses and he got himself some cigars as well, the end result being something that the young woman found quite cool. It had been definately worth it to persuade him to wear the black-lensed glasses, no matter how much he complained that they reduced his colour perception.
"Oh hell yeah it will." Yang was quite happy. She has made a fortune and found a mysterious warrior guy as well. "My debt to you is paid. Now I am needed elsewhere." Well, it was fun while it lasted, it was not like she could bring him to Beacon as a pet.
"I'm free for the weekend. I could introduce you to my friends." He seemed to pause for a moment in consideration. "Meet me at the Dustco store at noon, Huntress Yang."
Aramus decided that he had made the right choice in sparing the blonde woman. She seemed very friendly as well as rather brave, if foolish. He needed every asset he could use if he was to learn about his new surroundings.
The life of an Astartes was mostly glorious warfare, but sometimes it was more complicated. It was his lot to suffer whatever tribulations the Emperor has placed ahead of him. After the girl dissapeared into her schola building, he left to check on his wargear.
Blake left the hospital near dawn. Truffle had told her that the girl was delirious by the time they got her to the emergency ward, muttering about monsters. He managed to get a name out of the mystery woman at least.
Cyana. Another victim driven into the arms of Taurus by the intolerance and hatred of humans. But hatred only ever lead to more hatred.
The doctors have assured her that their charge would live, but the injury was quite serious. She had lost her left kidney and parts of her intestines were damaged. It was a miracle that she managed to survive until they got her on the operating table.
It could take weeks for her to regain full consciousness, something that troubled Blake. She needed to know what did this to her. Maybe it was a Grimm, but maybe it was not. Some humans were not above murder, and Adam was quite capable of killing his own soldiers to make an example as well, something that made her ashamed of her past life even more.
She walked towards Beacon, her thoughts troubled.