Crimson Trailer
AN: Note that this trailer takes place two years before RWBY volume 1
"Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."
Cormac Oráiste straightened his gauntlet and checked the action on his trump card. Satisfied the simple mechanism functioned correctly, he pulled the burnt-orange hood draped over his neck up to cover his fiery, ginger hair. After ensuring the rest of his armor was sitting where it was meant to, Cormac grabbed the weapon sitting next to him. He looked over the short spear, taking note of the edge of the hatchet blade opposite the spearhead. With his weapon's condition meeting his expectations, he finally stood and headed towards the large double doors leading out of the locker room he'd been suiting up in, sliding his weapon, Luigsech, into its holster at the small of his back.
The doors swung open, and the roar of the crowd who'd gathered to witness the Mistral regional tournament immediately bombarded Cormac. With a small smirk, he made his way to the ring for what would be his last shot at the championship before he moved on to one of the major combat schools.
He had already been scouted and contacted by Atlas, but Cormac didn't fancy himself a soldier. He had his eyes on Beacon, but only time would tell.
"Now making his way into the arena," came the bellow of the announcer. "From Shion, right here on Anima, Cormac Oráiste!
He calmly strolled to the ring, no boasting or cocky taunting. He would occasionally raise his hand when someone called to him directly, but nothing else. His eyes narrowed slightly as they found his opponent.
It wasn't the first time his path had crossed with Cardin Winchester. The rich brat had beaten him two years prior, though he'd avenged the loss the year after, having learned the tall young man had a highly exploitable temper. This would be their final encounter before the Vytal festival the year after next. Cormac was determined to win the rubber match, as the old timers called it.
Winchester scowled as Cormac stepped onto the granite ring. "You got lucky last year, Twiggy. This time, I'm gonna crush you into the dust."
"Funny," Cormac deadpanned. "I was planning on telling you something similar, you stupid brute. Still have that burn mark on your ass?"
Cardin snarled as the bell rang and charged. Leading with his typically blunt opening move, Cardin reared back for an overhead strike with his mace.
"Idiot," Cormac sneered, drawing his spear and parrying with the flat of the head. When the heavy head of Cardin's mace slammed into the stone floor, Cormac leaned in. "If you're looking to crush me, you're gonna have to be a hell of a lot less sloppy."
[Start: Warriors by Papa Roach]
Cormac backhanded Cardin with the ornate counter balance of his spear, stunning the larger warrior. Cormac had learned in his last two encounters with the temperamental young man that staying in sustained melee with a short weapon would end poorly, so he leapt backwards, hitting an almost invisible trigger in the grip of his weapon. With a sharp rotation of his wrist, Cormac spun Lugiseach perpendicular to the ground, allowing both ends to extend from a short spear/hatchet to a longer spear with a poleaxe blade at the opposite end.
Displaying uncanny dexterity and a rare bout of showboating, Cormac continued the momentum of the spin using techniques he learned with a bo staff to supplement his spear fighting. Deciding to cut the display after a few moments, Cormac brought his weapon back into his dominant hand, holding it to his side and slightly behind his back with the spearhead ready and the axe angled up along his back.
He raised his hand towards Cardin, and, with a taunting smirk, beckoned the armor-clad warrior mockingly. Cardin charged with a roar, any previous plans completely gone from his mind. All too easy to get under this idiot's skin, Cormac thought, ducking a heavy blow and retaliating with a swift thrust of his spear. While the blow didn't do much damage to Cardin's aura, Cormac didn't need it to. He wasn't a power fighter, and was much more content using numerous lesser strikes to both infuriate and wear down the obviously stronger Winchester.
As the exchange went on, Cardin got angrier and angrier, his swings losing all sense of discipline while Cormac's grew bolder and bolder. Spying an opening, he used the blunted edge on the inside of the beard of his axe blade to hook Cardin's ankle. With a strong jerk, Cardin was thrown off balance, his newest strike smashing pointlessly into the stone floor of the ring. Sidestepping around Cardin, Cormac left his feet, jumping high up, intent on using his momentum to deliver powerful thrust.
What the crimson fighter forgot in that moment was that, despite its weight, Cardin could still use his massive flanged mace with one arm. With a vicious backhand, Cardin sent Cormac flying, the cloaked warrior sliding to a halt not five feet from the edge of the ring.
With a grunt, Cormac got up slowly, glancing at the screen displaying his and Cardin's Aura level. With that one attack, Cardin had nearly nullified any leads on Aura Cormac had. Cormac grit his teeth and spun his weapon around so the axe blade and more importantly the counter balance faced outward. What many didn't realize was the red stone set between two entwined gold tails was not just decorative. It was in fact a Burn dust crystal. Cormac channeled his Aura into the crystal and began using more of the bo staff techniques, but rather than defensive spinning, the motions had a defined pause as if from a strike before flowing into the next movement. What made them even more unusual was the ball of burning Dust that erupted from the crystal and seemed to home in on Cardin.
The tall huntsman in training tried gamely to bat aside the burning attacks, but just as many struck him as he deflected.
Cormac, seeing his attacks were merely chipping away at Cardin's aura, flicked his left wrist, revealing his new toy. A nozzle, akin to a gun barrel but with a much smaller bore, slid from his left gauntlet and sat ready above the palm of his left glove. With another spark of his Aura, Cormac produced a shimmering light orange flame from the tip of the nozzle. Lifting his left hand parallel with the counter balance of his spear, Cormac sent an enormous stream of flames roaring at Cardin.
Cardin brought his arms up just in time to blunt the damage, but his Aura still took a massive hit. With a low growl, he lowered his arms and brushed the smoking embers from his armor. Glaring over at his opponent, he saw Cormac still standing where he had been. His eyes narrowed when he saw Cormac's glove was still smoking.
Cormac smirked and swiftly brought his left hand up, pointing two fingers to the sky. Cardin looked down, now noticing the scattered remains of powdered Burn Dust. Only now, the spent remains had begun glowing and a circular glyph formed right under him. Cardin looked up just in time to see Cormac's aura spark, and everything vanished in a blinding flash of light.
Cardin Winchester sailed through the air and slammed into the force barrier separating the combat arena from the stands.
[End Warriors]
"Cardin Winchester is eliminated via ring out and aura level!" The announcer's voice rang through the arena once more. "Your winner and finalist, Cormac Oráiste!"
Cormac retracted his weapon, bowing slightly to the crowd before retreating to his locker room to await his final opponent.
[Linebreak]
Cormac sighed as he removed his armor. He was a bit sour at his loss, but considering whom it was to, he supposed he had a tangible reason to improve. Bettering one's self for the sake of it was all well and good but it was both easier and more satisfying when one had something definite to work towards.
"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt," came a slightly musical voice.
Cormac smirked slightly at the irony. What's the phrase? Speak of the Grimm…? He turned to see his fellow finalist and the winner of her third Mistral Regional Tournament in a row, Pyrrha Nikos.
"You're not, Miss Nikos," Cormac assured her. He rotated his shoulder, now freed of its pauldron. "Congratulations, as well. Three in a row. Has to be some kind of record."
Pyrrha colored slightly. "Thank you. I wanted to make sure you were alright. That last fall looked painful."
Cormac grinned ruefully. A force, Cormac suspected Pyrrha's semblance of either polarity or straight telekinesis, had slammed into his chest when he had locked spearhafts with Pyrrha's Milo and she had tried to force him back. He guessed she put more into her attack than she meant to if how he flipped three times and landed hard on his front was any indication.
"Nothing seriously damaged but my pride, Miss Nikos," Cormac chuckled.
"I'm glad to hear that," Pyrrha smiled. "You fought well. I'm looking forward to our rematch next year."
Cormac winced. "Unfortunately I won't be competing in the Tournament next year."
Pyrrha looked crestfallen. The Spartan had trouble finding an opponent that she could call an equal. She didn't like to think of herself as arrogant but so few of her peers offered any measure of challenge. Cormac had forced her to use her semblance, which was an extreme rarity. And while she couldn't call them close friends, she did get along well with the tall Dust mage. "Oh," she mumbled. "You're not dropping out are you?"
"No, no, nothing like that," Cormac quickly quashed that line of thought. "I'm moving on to one of the main Combat schools."
"Oh!" Pyrrha brightened. "Well, perhaps we'll be able to spar in class or, at least, during the Vytal Festival in a few years."
Cormac nodded with a grin. "Hope you don't expect a repeat of today the next time we meet."
Pyrrha shoved his shoulder. "I've beaten you more times than just today,"
"I was being nice those ten times," Cormac snickered.
Pyrrha rolled her eyes. "If it saves your ego. Anyway, I have to find my parents. No doubt they've wrangled some reporter or some such nosy individual to pester me," she shook her head ruefully. "Good luck in the big leagues."
Cormac nodded. "Take care, Miss Nikos."
After the Spartan woman left, Cormac returned to removing his armor. Once he'd pulled his reinforced leather cuirass off, he heard a three-pronged knock at the locker room door. Turning to address the newest interloper, Cormac's voice caught in his throat.
Standing in the doorway was a tall, slender, surprisingly unremarkable looking man. A shock of dull silver hair scattered across the top of his head haphazardly. Small, circular eyeglass rested just below the bridge of his nose, slightly obscuring sharp, intelligent coffee brown eyes. He wore a simple (by Cormac's age group anyway) forest green suit. In his left hand was a waist-high cane with what looked like either a lever or handguard protruding from where the shafts met the grip, and a set of gears visible through gaps in the sliver casing. In his right was a simple coffee mug emblazoned with the Sigil of Beacon Academy.
Cormac stood, speechless as Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon, stood outside his locker room. After a moment, Ozpin's eyebrow raised slightly and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smirk. "May I come in, Mr. Oráiste?"
Cormac shook himself slightly and gestured into the room. "Of course, Professor. My apologies, I did not expect you."
"Yes, I gathered from the flabbergasted stare," Ozpin said dryly. Cormac flushed a bit as Headmaster sat down on one of the benches, setting his cane next to his leg.
"Not to sound rude, Headmaster, but may I ask why you're here?" Cormac asked after Ozpin had made himself comfortable. "You never struck me as the type to visit a stranger for a social call."
"Indeed," Ozpin hummed. "I had hoped to speak to you personally before James got his hooks in you."
Cormac frowned. "James, sir?"
"Ah, yes. My apologies. General Ironwood. He's been rather boastful about how he was going to recruit you."
Cormac found his lips lifting slightly. "You want to recruit me to spite the General."
Ozpin put on a nonchalant expression, gazing around at the locker room as if he had never been in one. "Well, I will not deny the idea for such a bonus has its charm, though it is not the main reason I am here. In truth, Mr. Oráiste, I've had my eye on you for some time. To put it plainly, I want to extend you the offer of attending Beacon. Unless, of course General Ironwood has already convinced you to attend Atlas."
Cormac frowned slightly. "With all due respect to the General, I don't see life as a military grunt suiting me very well. I started training as a huntsman to be a huntsman, not a… Specialist, or whatever they're called, and swearing myself to one Kingdom. So, if I had my choice it wouldn't be Atlas, Headmaster."
Ozpin smirked. "Then it seems my ability to read people has not diminished as much as I had feared. Very well, Mr. Oráiste." The silver haired teacher pulled his scroll from his coat and typed something before swiping his finger. After a moment, Cormac's own scroll beeped, indicating he'd received something. Opening the device, he found a new icon on his home screen in the shape of Beacon's emblem. "That file contains your registration code for the new semester. Just have the pilot scan your scroll and you'll be able to board. To say it officially, your application to Beacon Academy has been approved. And I expect to see you disembark at 9 am sharp the day before initiation."
"You will, Headmaster," Cormac grinned.
Ozpin nodded, pocketed his scroll and stood up to leave, snatching his cane up. As he neared the door he turned back. "Oh and one last thing. If I have my way, I'd say you will have your rematch with Miss Nikos sooner rather than later," with that, Ozpin left with a small, mischievous grin.
Cormac chuckled and sat down, his eyes finding the Beacon Icon once more. The sting of his loss to Pyrrha had greatly diminished. His day would come. Now all he had to do was wait for the new semester and figure out what to do with his winnings from the tournament. Ah, well. Thoughts for later. Better find Mom and Dad.
AN: Well, this took longer than it should have. Sorry for that. Various and annoying issues kept me from writing as efficiently. I am now writing full time on my phone. Yup. Old computer died. Luckily I had been getting paranoid and backing up any writing on a flash drive and my cell. Since I've gotten better at typing on my phone, as long as the inspiration is there, I'll be able to write at a decent clip. Hell, I finished most of the dialogue section while sitting at my grandmother's for a late Easter. With all that said, thank you again for reading, reviewing, following and favoriting. I'll see ya when I update next. ~Sin