Trailer III: The Writer

"Orange rays of light passed through shattered, stained glass, creating a cascade of brilliant colors which reflected all about a crumbling, gothic-styled church. Around it, withering flowers gave a sickly look, and the dead grass and trees fueled a sense of foreboding all who looked upon the once grand structure; the gravestones littering around it, most seemingly recent, only added to the effect.

A lone figure approached the temple on this dawn; a young woman, who walked almost casually as she passed by the old building. By all appearances, she was a work of pure art; long, unkempt brown hair framed her beautiful, pointed face, and her matching eyes carried a sense of determination and power as they looked about the area. More distinctive was her clothing; a violet jacket worn over a light blue undershirt, with pants matching the later, gloves matching the former, and both boots and a backpack which seemed meant to complement her striking eyes.

To further complement her, she carried an enormous rifle, doing so in such a nonchalant manner that she barely seemed to be aware of its presence. But surely, such an opinion would not be held by those who saw it!

As she neared the old monument, she stopped, hearing a growl come from within the temple. Suddenly, dozens of..."

Violet set down her pen, looking with disdain at what she had written so far. Speaking to no-one in particular, she asked, "What sort of Grimm would hide in an old church?"

There came a knock on the door, and she spun her chair around quickly, so that she could face the well-dressed man entering into the room. "Miss Jardine, there is a visitor here to meet with you on the lower floors. It is regarding your future education, I believe."

A grin broke out over her face, as she quickly clapped her hands over her head, and jumped from her seat with joy. A quick change of shirts, along with throwing on a jacket, and she now very much resembled her literary self-portrait; of course, without the embellishments of fantasy, it was quite clear that her own opinion of her appearance was not fully grounded in reality. Further, she had neglected to mention the symbol of a grapevine which dominated the back of her jacket.

The size of the rifle, on the other hand, was quite accurate; so, too, was the almost careless way she carried the dangerous weapon. As she passed the butler, he quickly added, "Oh, and I would suggest Beowolves. You will, of course, default to using them regardless."

She gave a playful punch to his shoulder, along with flashing a smile, as she said, "Oh, I'm sure the whole world's just as swarming with them as my stories. I'm just hoping at Beacon, I'll get to deal with bigger things. Maybe some Ursa?"

As she skipped along, the butler gave sighed, and muttered something she couldn't hear. While the intonations seemed almost mournful, Violet neither caught what the words were, nor gave them much thought. It was probably just more teasing, anyways.

While it might have been far easier to simply descend the two flights of stairs which led to the ground level of Chateau Jardine, Violet instead opted to grasp one of the support beams along the balcony and slide down, bracing her knees to land gently on the floor below. The room in which she now stood was immense, with great portraits hanging on the wall, and various furnishings which in any lesser room would have made the place feel cramped. Here, it seemed only appropriate.

She wandered down an adjoining hallway, and from there, turned into a smaller room which had the word "Visitor" etched into the wood hanging above the door. Yet all sense of a carefree nature was dismissed when she entered the room, and saw its occupants; her mother, wearing a traditional black suit and grim face, sitting alongside a man she had never seen before. He wasn't particularly tall, most certainly overweight, and by virtue of both his wrinkles and impressive mustache, of some age; he wore a formal, burgundy-colored suit which wouldn't look out of place at a military function, as well as matching boots. While the overall effect was a stern appearance, Violet couldn't help but feel there was something more than that.

"Sit down, Violet." her mother said, prompting her to take the nearest seat across the table. She folded her hands over her legs, and patiently awaited whatever was coming next. After she did so, her mother nodded, and indicated the man sitting next to her.

"Violet, this man is Professor Port, one of the most distinguished professors at Beacon Academy. He is here on his own time for your benefit, so please try to avoid causing any problems. I expect to receive only positive feedback. Understood?"

She nodded back, prompting her mother to say, "Good. Now, Professor, I must once again offer my apologizes, but I have an important meeting with the Council in just one hour. We wouldn't want the police to remain under-equipped, now would we?"

"Why of course not, my good lady! No Huntsman would ever allow such an inexcusable breach of security. Go forth! Do what you must do! Your daughter will be in safe hands."

"I'm quite sure. Thank you for your understanding." she replied, standing up, and shaking his hand curtly. She looked at Violet for a moment, gave a short nod, and then walked out, leaving a deathly silence to hang over the room. The door slid closed behind her.

Once her mom was gone, Violet shattered the momentary calm by bursting out, "So you're really a Huntsman? What's it like? How big are Grimm really? How many have you killed?"

"My dear child, patience!" he replied, seemingly taken aback, if somewhat amused. "Fret not, young one. Your questions will all be answered at Beacon."

The professor picked up a piece of paper which sat on the table, before adding, "Though based on these extraordinary transcripts, there is no doubt that your education has been sufficient."

She perked up as he said that, before saying, "Well, you know... there are some advantages with more private educations."

He gave a chuckle. "Indeed there are. Of course, before we can formally accept you into the prestigious Beacon Academy, there are a few concerns which must be addressed."

As her face fell, he continued. "While your classes themselves show masterful performance, your the private administration of your entrance exams, which are the true mark of an inductees combat expertise, calls into question the validity of your claims."

"In most cases, we would simply trust the scores alone. But Beacon is no normal school, and the life of a Huntsman or Huntress is as dangerous as it is glorious, and certain members of faculty are less than eager to admit a student without first verifying their capabilities."

He stood up, and beckoned Violet to follow. As they walked, he began to carry on about his days as a Huntsman, describing in great detail his former team's liberation of a small village far to the south from an oncoming horde of Grimm. While at first, she listened quite intently to his tale, her mind eventually began wander as his embellishments became increasingly grand, culminating in him becoming disarmed, and employing a King Taijitu as a replacement weapon.

"Ah, and here we are." he concluded, breaking her away from her day-dreams, and causing her to look ahead. They were now standing in front of the theater, a rarely used part of the estate. The professor opened the door, allowing her to step inside.

The theater was large; roomer now, in fact, than before, as the seats were all down into the floor, leaving only the support pillars. The ceiling was opened, allowing the early morning sun to shine downwards. There was, however, something new – the large cage which dominated the far end of the room.

"This shall be a test of your skills in combat." he told her. "Fight with honor. Fight with purpose. Fight with the true spirit of a Huntress!"

The cage violently shook, and a roar came from within. Brilliant red eyes shone from the dark, as whatever was in the cage began to throw itself against the bars.

Violet smiled eagerly. "Ooh! Is it a real Grimm? What kind?" she asked. Her eyes lit up quickly, and she immediately reached behind her, grasping her rifle.

"There is only one type of Grimm." he replied, walking boldly to the cage. With a single motion, he pulled out what appeared the hybrid of a blunderbuss and an axe, and raised it high above his head. Carefully, he stepped back, moving closer to the chain which held in place the mechanism sealing the cage door closed. He held up his free hand as she approached, causing her to stop.

She cocked her head. "What do mean, only one type of Grimm?"

A great laugh roared from his chest at that question. After a few seconds, he answered, "The only type of Grimm, is prey!"

With that, he swung the axe head down, severing the chain, and causing the cage doors to swing open. What stepped out was a massive Beowolf, larger than any Violet had ever seen. The massive, spiked creature easily dwarfed her, and only seemed to be growing larger as it pulled itself out of the cage.

"Dammit." she muttered. "I really want to see an Ursa."

The creature roared, standing tall for a moment before going on all fours, seemingly sizing her up as it approached. Her eyes narrowed, and she gave a loud growl of her own, before smiling again and proclaiming loudly, "You don't know who you're messing with, do you?"

At that, the creature roared, and lunged towards her. She turned her rifle forward, quickly jumped up, and fired, sending her flying back and away just as the monster swung. To her surprise, the creature seemed unfazed by the attack; the shot was deflected easily, and left only a small crack in the beasts' armor.

Once more, the creature stood up, showing its more exposed chest. Violet delivered three shots in quick succession, forcing the creature back. Catching the hint, the creature lowered itself to a more defensive stance, before charging once more.

Violet attempted the same tactic for evasion as the last time, but this time, the monster didn't stop; instead, it kept charging at her, swinging its claw at her, and throwing her far across the room, and into one of the support beams.

She began standing, as the beast approached her. No longer smiling, she looked on with anger, and a small amount of fear. Could simple animals really learn so quickly? The Beowolf, for its part, seemed to be enjoying the emotional state it was created; it slowly stalked towards her, moving back and forth in a circular path, as though it enjoyed simply watching her.

"Not attacking while you had a chance is the last mistake you'll ever make." she growled, as she flipped a switch on her rifle. In one rapid motion, the frame unfolded, transforming the weapon into a nasty-looking lochaber axe.

The beast charged, swinging at her with its massive claw, in an attempt to strike her down. As it did so, her hand shot up. A horrible, otherworldly screech echoed through the room, and a violet glow filled the air, as a small, black crack appeared; the claw went through, vanishing for a split second, as another tear ripped through the air near the beasts neck. As the Beowolf made contact with itself, it was thrown rather violently to the side; its arm was pulled out along with it, with the rift sealing in the absence of a physical presence.

With a shout, Violet swung her weapon at the creature; in one clean blow, she severed the giant Beowolf's arm flying from its body, with a great flash of purple light flaring from the open wound. As the creature gave a stunned look at its missing limb, she swept downwards, delivering a powerful finishing blow. The Grimm's head went flying, as her weapon was embedded into the floor.

For a moment, all was quiet. After two great heaves, she managed to wrench her axe from the ground. Then, came the slow clapping, as Port approached her.

"Excellent performance, Miss Jardine!" he said, patting her on the back, as she wiped sweat from her brow. "Indeed, your tenacity and skill in battle reminds me of my younger days, all of those years ago. Ah, that fight brings back memories, of that time when I..."

"So am I accepted?" she asked quickly, interrupting him with a brilliant grin on her face. "That was the test, right? Kill the monster?"

While he did seem somewhat hurt to have his story broken off, Port said nothing of it, instead continuing on by saying, "Your combat abilities are sufficient. However, you must realize that killing one monster does not a Huntress make. You have a long way to go before you will be ready to face the Grimm infested areas of Remnant."

He paused, and her head dropped. "Regardless of that, your enthusiasm, dedication, and performance have earned you my final approval."

Eyes alight, she immediately lunged and hugged the professor, crying out, "Oh, thank you, thank you!" Just as quickly, she stepped back, her body almost shaking with joy. No more staying at home, no more boring tutors... she would be hunting monsters, saving the world, being a hero!

Demonstrating an uncanny quickness when not being observed, Port had already reached the exit by the time she was done. "Don't just stand about, dear girl. Initiation Week begins in just five days."

It was the longest five days of her life.

Finish: The Writer

Next Up: The Orator

A/N: So, the first actual instance of a character who isn't an OC. I think I presented Port at least passably, but it just doesn't seem to give off the right vibe to me. That's just a matter of personal taste. This being here, I'll add that Violet is a matter of some worry for me, as a character. The name's hardly original, both within the RWBY Fandom and others, so I can definitely see readers being put off by that. At the same time, it felt like pushing for another "V" name on her character would have just been... too "special" sounding, I suppose? I suppose time will tel whether my worries are actually founded, or just me stressing the small stuff.

A small note, in case this was missed; I altered by writing style a small amount for Violet's opening sequence. There are more than a few intentional mistakes within it for that reason. Of course, any other mistake in the story is probably because I'm a far better story planner than I am a proofreader.