Heya folks… Dragon Slayer of Nyx and Hades here, and I know I have been gone for a good while, but that was because of three things; One, I have been making this, along with the next chapter of Dragon of Hell, which is a big one! Second, I am working and going to college, so that takes up a good deal of time. Lastly… Actually, I have no good excuse for here, and the others don't excuse my absence. But it will make up for it, hopefully.
Now, this story takes inspiration from both Shadow of War and Shadow of Mordor, but is by no means a repeat of the two. With that being said, Monolith own that concept, and Rooster Teeth own RWBY. I just own the writing and ideas of fusing the two.
With that being said, allow me to proudly introduce you all, to Grimm Walker.
Jaune's Pov:
I am, without a shadow of a doubt, a terrible huntsman. If not, THEE WORST huntsman ever to grace Beacons halls. At least, that's what I think.
I never trained to be a huntsman, save for swing a tree branch about as a 'fought' my siblings. Then I came to Beacon Academy, where I somehow survived initiation, and became team leader of Team JNPR. Then the famous Pyrrha Nikos decided she was going to train me, and make me into a proper fighter…
Then she killed a girl who wasn't of flesh and blood… and… here we are…
I panted, exhausted from fighting, Grimm dissolving around me, the sound of gunfire sounding around me, cries of the dying and injured on either side screaming in the air, the Grimms roars deafening. I roar out, and slash at another Creeps' throat, taking off it's head with ease.
I glare at the massive tower that the Grimm Dragon sits on, my fist tightening around the hilt of Crocea Mors, my teeth gritting from the determination to tear down that building… only to get to her…
Pyrrha… she kissed me… she likes me…
I roar out, and charge forward, shield first, and slam a Urza in the stomach, before shoving the tip of my blade up through the bottom of it's jugular. I then slide it to the left, taking off the beast's head with a sickening sound, like a thick packet of wet paper being torn.
I run forward, continuing the war path through Grimm, avoiding Majors and Alphas, but destroying Creeps and Minor Urzas, struggling with a few Beowolves or the minor small Deathstalker horde, going straight for Beacon Tower, fueled by rage and determination, and surviving only by my blade and massive Aura pool.
Block, slash, twist, block, roll, thrust, dodge, block, block, parry, slash…
It became an extension of my body after all the training Pyrrha and Goodwitch put me through. My sword was a part of me, an extension of my hand and my will. My shield was more than a sheet of metal used to absorb damage, it was my aura, a part of my soul bared for all to see. I can hardly control my own feet as they glide over the flagstone brick path towards Beacon Tower, crunching the empty hulls of Atlesian Knight's bodies, sloshing through the dissolving bodies of Grimm, and avoiding the stains of crimson coming from human and faunus, either from the Whitefang or the Huntsman Academies or Civilians trying to escape.
I race forward, my legs pounding on the stone, my arms pumping as I weave through rouge battles, shield raised to block gunfire, trying to ignore the screams and cries of the damned or battles I can't help with…
"BLAKE!" I hear, a scream from Yang… Can't stop, Yang can help her… Gotta keep going… sorry Blake.
Pyrrha… I got to help her…
I slide to a stop, looking at one of the rocket lockers, door agape, similar to the one that I was launched in. It's embedded into part of the Cafateria's wall, door facing me. Could be better, but could be worse.
I rush over, and punch in the coordinates to the tower top, and slip myself in. I gulp, hoping and praying to the Brothers I will survive, or at the very least, not throw up. Heh, not so bad…
FUCK IT'S TAKING OFF! I'M GONNA BE SICK! NOO-
3rd Person Pov:
A rocket locker flew out of the wall, with a screaming pseudo knight inside, causing the wall and a significant portion of the ceiling to crumble and crash, killing several grimm and White Fang members.
The rocket soars higher, and higher, seemingly aimed at a tower in the center of all this chaos and death wrought by the woman battling a girl at the top of the tower the rocket locker is aimed at, a massive Creature of Grimm, known simply as the Grimm Dragon, circling it.
As the two warriors, both skilled in their own respected martial skills and powerful with their respective powers, one being polarity and the other stolen powers of the Fall Maiden.
However, it seems as the battle goes on, wearing both combatants out, the woman whom we call Cinder Fall, seems to be the stronger of the two in a more weakened state.
Just as she draws back her bow after disarming her opponent, ready to fire an arrow into her, a disruption occurs. An explosion, a horrid scream from the beast leaning on the tower, and the stench of tarnished steel and putrid acid fills the air. The chaos causes Cinder to lose focus, and fire the arrow astray.
From a dip in the wall, near where one of the Great Grimm's clawed paws were, a smoldering rocket locker sits, warped and ruined, the door agape. Cinder stares at it, in curiosity and wonder, approaching it silently as to see what it contains.
From the smoke of the wreckage, a single figure rises, steam from the acid boiling around his jeans. He is wearing ashen armor, the white now tainted to a light gray. A short sleeved hoodie covers his torso under his pieces of white armor, the hood up over his head. In one hand, a shield sits, two golden crests crossing the tarnished surface, the gilded edge chipped and mared from battle. In his other hand, a blade of similar making rests, the hilt clutched in a brown fingerless glove that extends into orange sleeves that have black lines crossing across it. The figure looks up, showing reddened blue eyes and a wave of shaggy blond hair that flows to his eyes. He bares his teeth into a snarl, and takes a step out towards the woman, his sneakers curdling with the steam of the acid.
Jaune's Pov.
Two minutes before emerging:
Alright, I'll admit… this was a terrible idea.
I vomited… a lot… I can smell the fuming waste that was once my stomach contents. Then, I hear the deafening roar, sickening crunching, and the sound of steel tearing against stone. I know that last sound well, from me accidentally hitting Crocea Mors against a wall or pillar and getting it damaged.
I watch as the door gets crumpled like a wet sheet of paper, and is torn off, showing the shattered moon and several stars, hazed and ravaged by the smoke and embers flowing in the sky, the screams of the dying and grimm ruining the peace.
I get up, my hood up cause my hair is a mess from the vomit, and look at the woman before me, my weapons drawn and ready for anything. She would be beautiful, if I didn't know who she was. A murderer. She attacked Pyrrha and that girl in the pod, and might have killed Ozpin.
Cinder Fall.
I grit my teeth, glaring at her, my fist tightening around my blade.
"Well, if it isn't the knight. How quaint, he comes to rescue his princess, like a loyal do-" She coos, only to be cut off by a flying sheet of metal to her face.
Pyrrha, who I now notice is kneeling weaponless, just stares in shock with her jaw dropped. Cinder is also stunned, more from the flying metal than shock. Me? I am more concerned on HOW I managed to throw my shield at her and knocked her flat on her ass.
I guess now is the time for an epic one liner.
"Shut up and bleed for me, Fall." I snarl, the venom in my words almost as toxic as the vomit I spewed a few moments ago. Guess that works.
I see her register my words, and opens her mouth to retort. A noble knight would normally let her spew her monologue then retort with his own words. But a little birdy told me that speeches are for the weak, and are also a great opening to get in a cheap shot.
With little more than a thought, I close the distance between us in three running strides, and swing my blade down towards her left shoulder, my vision all but red. A clang is heard, and I grunt in pain as something enters my thigh.
Cinder smirks, and shoves me back, holding two daggers made of black glass, the cracks in it glowing with embers. She twirls one, shaking the blood off it. My blood…
I stare down, the wound clean and slowly stitching itself together due to my Aura. I grunt, and glare at her once more, satisfied with her frown. I scoop up my shield, and slam the flat of my blade against it and get into a lower position, just like Pyrrha taught me.
"You caught me monologuing, dear knight. I must admit, you are a dirty fighter. If that is how you want to play, very well." Cinder snarls, and slashes a dagger, which extends into a massive sword, slashing at me.
I raise my shield, only to watch it get shredded, along with the rest of my aura, and then the tip of the blade slashes itself across my throat.
The pain can only be described as the worst paper cut in history, plus drowning in a pool with no way out. I stare in horror at her satisfied smirk, and Pyrrha's terrified expression. I can feel my life draining from me…
NO. I refuse to die like this. I refuse to perish after coming so far!
I growl, the sound deeper and gurgled from my blood, and throw my shattered shield at her, the shredded edge digging into side as I stumble back. The force required to throw it makes me stumble to the edge… then I feel my strength wayn, and my body falls.
All I hear in my final moments are two female voices crying out the same thing.
"JAUNE!"
I gasp, and stand, my knees weakly shaking as I stand.
White and blue smoke flows around me, the landscape marred with red and black shadows. Whispers flow with the wind, and the landscape hisses like snow blown over stone.
Before me, is Crocea Mors, laying over the shattered halves of my shield. Blood stains the white face of the shield, and pools below the two halves. A louder than normal whisper cries out, and I grab the blade with two hands, looking around frantically.
"Who's there?!" I shout, trying to sound manly and not shit my pants from fear. I look, and see several figures blackened out fighting, only catching glimpses of what they look like right before they die. Students full of color suddenly stained red and collapse into shadows, White fangs crying out as their animal parts are torn off brutally and then they are slaughtered back to the shadows. I look around, then look at my feet, not able to stomach the sight any longer.
Worst idea I had yet. Before me, in full color, is my body, face down, hand outstretched towards my shattered shield, blood pooling towards it.
"Am I dead?" I whisper, stumbling back, only to hit something else with color. Another body, who's crimson blood flows towards mine, meeting at my shield. Their sword lays shattered, the blade snapped in two, leaving a jagged bit of a blade and a hilt behind. Their body is all but covered in rubble, but a black gloved hand with porcelain skin rests near the hilt, the shattered tip of the weapon digging into the rubble near them.
The ghastly whisper comes closer, but now I make out words in the mutters, "We have been banished from death."
I turn, to see a figure, similar to the one covered in rubble, before me. The form of a ghostly faunas, wearing black pants and a red button up. A black coat with a red dragon and white rose covers the majority of his shirt, and leads to the black gloves that I have seen in the rubble. I look to his head, and I suddenly know which side he was on. White Fang; the mask is a give away. Part of it is broken off, showing one eye, a blue one that is all too similar to my own, and a burn scar over his nose, and the rest of his grim mask covering his other eye. His red and brown hair is gelled back into a wave of spikes, and his horns frame his wild hair. His body is rolling with the smoke that surrounds me as well, blue and white like our eyes.
"Who are you." Escapes my lips before I can even comprehend who stands before me. The figure kneels down, and grasps the handle of his sword, and a mournful look crosses his face. He stands, and grasps what is left of the blade, extending the hilt of the now shattered weapon towards me.
"My name is Adam Taurus, Commander of the Vale White Fang. I am bound to you in this endless death." Comes the rich and commanding voice of the Right Hand of Sienna Khan, leader of the White Fang. "Now, tell me your name, and let's get to work."
I look at the crimson bladed hilt, the shattered weapon and the sheathe/shotgun that were handed to me. I grasp the weapon, which I would learn it's name was 'Wilt and Blush', and stare the spectral Adam Taurus in the eye.
"Jaune Arc. And your right, we got a lot of work to do if we're gonna kill the Cinder Bitch." I snarl, and sheathe the shattered blade into the hilt.
And fin! Hope you guys like it. I am accepting constructive criticism and ideas.
-DSoNaH.
