SUP! *dodges rock* I'm sorry! I was gonna update! Honest! But then something got in the way. That something being that I'm writing an original book and that obviously taking precedence. I figured I could work on it full time while season 4 was going on tat way I could get it out of my head faster. So yeah. But I'm back! Here's a chapter! Now stop throwing rocks!... Please...

Review responses will be back next chapter. Normally I'd repond to everyone but it's been so long that I think responses would be a bit forced. So next chapter I'll return to that!

Dinner with a Beast

"Men dream. But dreams hold no value here. What was the first bright light of hope has now turned into a long night of captivity. Lost in the dark we surrender our minds and forget who we are. But some of us have woken up. They remind us we still have a choice. To stand, not kneel. To oppose, not obey. To live, not just exist." - Captain Edward James Kenway, Master Assassin of the Assassin Brotherhood.

"And then using that, we'll hopefully be able to force the Legion's forces to traverse the three bottlenecks we'll create, rendering them nearly immobile, at least if they want to avoid a fight." Summer explained as she traced a small line across a map of the Broken Isles which had been littered with different signs and symbols.

Blake said nothing in response, prompting the older huntress to glance up at the Faunus.

"Blake?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." The woman in question replied hastily, realizing she had spaced out for the third time since Summer had first called her over to the war table. "That sounds fine."

Summer let a smile cross her face, "Go on, you can ask."

"Ask what?"

"You want to know where I've been all these years, am I right?"

"I'll admit, I'm curious..." Blake muttered as she leaned against the war table, her arms lazily folded across her chest. "The way Yang always talked about you it seemed like you wouldn't just disappear for no reason."

"Only Yang?" Summer asked, "Ruby's never mentioned me?"

"No. Ruby-... Ruby doesn't talk about you." Blake said with a shrug, dropping her hands to her sides as she watched a flash of disappointment shoot across Summer's expression. "It's always been a pretty sensitive spot for her."

"I see..."

Blake's eyes trailed down at the barely audible sound of tapping to find Summer's fingers softly drumming against the table.

"I truly wish she and Yang could've grown up in a world that no longer needed huntsmen and huntresses..." Summer sighed as she tilted her head back down to the table, her silver eyes hidden by the white fabric of her hood.

"But she follows your example," Blake pointed out.

"What do you mean?"

"As a huntress. She's always fought to protect her friends."

"Yes, I know. I was always watching, from afar at least." Summer admitted, "I know she's grown up to be a capable fighter. I just-... She shouldn't have had to."

"Why? Aren't you proud of them?"

"Proud? I'm as proud of my girls as any mother could be."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but if you were so proud of them, then why leave them?" Blake asked, the skepticism in her tone clear.

Summer's gaze darted back to the Faunus, though her own voice held no hostility. "Please, don't be mistaken. My absence was not of my own volition. If I could turn back the clock and be a part of my daughter's lives again I would do so in a heartbeat."

"Then why don't you?"

Summer's expression instantly shifted to one of confusion, her fingers which had kept up their steady drumming against the table finally falling still.

"What's done is done. Their childhoods have pretty much passed..." Blake conceded, taking a moment before speaking up once more. "But Ruby is in Remnant right now, meeting the chairman of the Schnee Dust Company as we speak."

"I wish it were that simple Blake. I truly do. But think about it this way..." Summer began, finally turning to face the Faunus, exposing the two chain Kama that hung from her hips. "To my daughters and my husband, I've been dead for over a decade."

"Your husband? Even Ruby and Yang's Dad doesn't know you're still alive?"

Summer shook her head.

"No. He doesn't." The White Reaper continued, before letting a sad smile creep onto her face. "Though I suppose he's more of an ex-husband by now. He always was good at getting girls to fall for him."

"Why doesn't he know?" Blake pressed, her usual dull tone growing stern.

"Because... It's just for the best that way..."

"How could hiding from the people you called a family be for the best?" Blake asked in disbelief.

Not that she had much room to talk.

"He and the girls have had over a decade to mourn my death. Over a decade to come to grips that they would never see me again." Summer turned away from Blake, turning her gaze back down to the map. "And over a decade to move on from their loss."

Blake watched silently as a tear impacted against the parchment, staining the carefully drawn out map, marring the ink laden paper forever.

"What could be more cruel to them than learning the last decade of their lives they believed a lie?..."

"...Learning years from now that you really were alive but still refused to speak or make contact with them." The Faunus replied, watching as Summer's shoulders visibly tensed. "That's what's more cruel in my opinion..."

Summer let out a small dry chuckle, using her cloak to wipe away the tears continuing to build in her eyes. "You're a wise young woman Blake..."

Before Blake could reply to the huntress' compliment a loud slam suddenly rang out throughout the war room, bringing their attention to the approaching figure of Donyc, his pace hastened by whatever news he seemed to carry.

"White Reaper!" Donyc yelled as he approached, the echo ringing throughout the platform despite the massive openings that lead to the outside air on every side of the room.

"Hmm? What is it Death Knight?" Summer asked, disguising the previous sadness that had been in her voice with a near perfect emotionless tone that could have easily given Blake a run for her money for the most apathetic sounding of the group.

"You might want to get your weapons sharpened, we just got a report of something big!..." Donyc exclaimed. It was then that Blake realized that the Death Knight's sword, Apocalypse, was in its owner's hand and ready to be used.

"What? What's going on?"

"Seems the Legion's making another attempt at Remnant, and a few warlock spies are telling us that they're being lead by a new commander." The Forsaken clarified, tapping his foot impatiently.

"New commander?" The elder huntress asked, to white Donyc gave a curt nod, his tongue wagging freely like a plagued worm wriggling free of its den. "And the rebels of Suramar? What of them?"

"They'll have to manage with the help they're already goin' to get from the Horde and Alliance. Our priority is the Legion invasion force."

"Tell us more while we walk. We had better find Wrath."

"He's already aware, which is a damned miracle given how distracted he's been as of late." Donyc replied, taking another moment to shoot a sharp glare at Blake, who sent her own in return. "The rest of Acherus is preparing for battle as we speak. You two'll be helping."

Summer and Blake glanced at each other, neither daring to step forwards first, eliciting an annoyed groan from the Forsaken Death Knight as a result.

"I don't care if you two are guests, if you're on this necropolis, you're fighting on behalf of this necropolis! Now let's move!"

Without another word Donyc turned and stalked towards the upper platform where the main teleport pad resided, leaving the two huntresses to stare at his slowly receding form.

"Qrow was right," Summer chuckled, "He's quite charming."

"That's a word for it I guess." Blake grinned in agreement.

"Come, I'd rather not learn of any other nicknames he's given you, and I certainly would like to avoid earning one of my own." The senior huntress said before making her own way towards the teleportation pad.

"Right behind you."

"So... Question." Weiss asked, watching Ravarth as he ripped into the latest of what seemed like a thousand chicken legs, watching as he swallowed the meat without so much as a second thought as to chewing.

"Hmm?" He hummed between bites, his lupine eyes focusing on the heiress as he ate.

"Where'd you get the name Bloodclaw anyway?"

The Worgen hesitated just bore biting into another slab of meat, lowering the leg of chicken, "What do you mean?"

"That's not exactly what I'd call a family name. It sounds like you came up with it yourself." Weiss pointed out. She had heard many strange names during her time in Azeroth, yet every Worgen surname she heard always left her confused. While most names held by the members of other races seemed to signify some higher meaning or symbolism to an extent, the Worgen's seemed to rely only on intimidation factors with their names.

"You'd be right." Ravarth replied, taking a moment to rip another chunk of meat from his drumstick before continuing, "I don't use my original last name."

"Why not?"

Ravarth only continued eating, breaking his line of sight with Weiss, who raised an eyebrow at the Worgen's actions.

"Ravarth?" She attempted once more, "Why not?"

"...I'm not answering that."

"Fine..." Weiss sighed, knowing that arguing with Ravarth would be about as productive as repeatedly slamming her forehead against a brick wall. "Will you at least tell me where you came up with Bloodclaw then? Just so we aren't sitting here in complete silence."

Ravarth remained in his bubble of silence for a few moments, chewing away at his latest chunk of meat.

Just as Weiss glanced back down at her food in disappointment the Worgen spoke.

"I named myself Bloodclaw after the Worgen pack that attacked Gilneas and gave us all this curse in the first place." Ravarth explained, his voice monotone as he seemed to flash through the memories he spoke of, "They call themselves the Bloodfang pack. I figured I'd adopt at least the blood part."

"And the claw?"

"...First things I used as a Worgen."

"How do you know that?" She asked as she placed her fork on her plate.

"Hmm?" He hummed, finally making eye contact with the heiress.

"How do you know you used your claws?" Weiss pressed, silently hoping that she was finally beginning to make some progress.

"Process of elimination."

"But... Didn't you tell me that you couldn't remember what happened when you first became a Worgen?" She recalled, images of the old beaten tent she had been stowed away in during the Battle for Vale flashing in her minds eye.

"That's right. But I told you something else, remember?"

Weiss thought for a moment before cautiously shaking her head, "...No, you just said that your family and the other refugees had been-..."

"Weiss. A feral Worgen's bite is contagious." Ravarth clarified, watching as the spark of realization ignited in Weiss' eyes. "If your bitten by a feral Worgen then the chances are it'll leave it at that. Make a new pack member. It's instinct."

"So what your saying is-..."

"If I had bitten my mother, sister, and the other refugees, then they'd all be alive. Worgens, but alive." Ravarth held up his claws, flexing his digits, the dim lit catching off the almost knifelike tips. "And they aren't..."

"What if you did bite them though?"

Ravarth hesitated for a moment before speaking, "I don't follow."

"What if you bit them and the other refugees tried to defend themselves and you attacked out of self defense?"

"It's possible I suppose. The men that found me did say they found a gun and a bloody knife..." The Worgen conceded, "Still. Part of me just doesn't want to accept I could've attacked her. Even like this."

Without another word Ravarth snacks he'd another piece of meat from his tray and bit into it, tearing away at the cooked muscle as if it were cotton candy. Even the bones hiding inside of the leg snapped like melting icicles the moment the Worgen's jaws closed around them.

As she watched him eat Weiss had to silently wonder; what could those teeth and claws really do to living flesh?

He swallows it near whole, waiting for a moment before speaking up again.

"Doesn't change anything in the end. They're dead. I killed them. How it happened doesn't exactly matter much, does it?"

"Then why let it define you?"

Ravarth halted just as his jaw was about to clamp down into another piece of meat, watching the heiresses expression with a single lupine eye before muttering, "Why do you let your position as an heiress define you?"

"Because I was born heiress to my father's company. I, as a Schnee, am expected to hold a certain standard to myself and those around me." Weiss explained, "You weren't born a Worgen."

"Does that make the fur and fangs any less real?"

Weiss felt her expression falter, watching as Ravarth went back to eating.

"No... No, I suppose it doesn't..."

Ravarth said nothing in response.

"But if things had been different, if you hadn't become a Worgen, you could still be Thomas." Weiss pointed out, her voice carrying an undertone of sadness that it had not before. "But if I wasn't an heiress, then what? Who would I be?"

"Your own person."

"I Am my own person..."

"Are you?"

The two stared at each other with stern expressions painted on their faces, neither saying a word. With each second that passed Weiss slowly felt the tension in the room beginning to grow thick. Ravarth had turned his attention completely away from his meal in favor of the impromptu staring match against the heiress, something that Weiss had learned from other soldiers serving under the Worgen was a rarity equivalent to that of Orcs running freely around Stormwind.

However before either could speak up once more in an effort to relieve that tension the unmistakable sound of the entrance keycard lock suddenly unlatching drew their attention to the door.

The sudden sound of rushing wind hit Weiss' ears, and without even bothering to turn around to look she knew that the Worgen that once sat across from her was gone, transformed into the human he had once been.

A moment later the door loudly creaked open and a head popped through, white hair neatly done up in a bun practically shining in the dimly light room.

"Weiss? Is everything alright?" Winter's authoritative yet compassionate voice rang throughout the room, "Father informed me that you-..."

The specialists voice suddenly seemed to fail her as her eyes finally adjusted to the light, finally registering the sight of her sister sitting across from a young man with pale skin, short red blonde hair atop his head, and his face covered in scraps of meat and juices.

And that man was staring back at her, his eyes focused on her with a heated glare as he crossed his arms, uttering a muffled curse.

"Weiss, who is this?!"

"Well... While what you two are suggesting is rather bold, I welcome the help wholeheartedly." A Nightborn female, perched atop a stone railing in a ruined old chamber, said as she opened her arms in a show of greeting to the three individuals who stood adjacent from herself, "Welcome to Shal'Aran my friends."

Glynda was the first to speak up, holding her hand out in her own gesture of greeting, which the Nightborn readily shook with a smile on her abnormally slim face. "We thank you for your hospitality miss?-..."

"Thalyssra."

Qrow let out a loud whistle, "That's a mouthful. How'd'ya spell it?"

"Don't be rude Qrow." Glynda chastised, to which the drunken man let out a soft belch as he leaned against the same stone railing Thalyssra was perched upon.

"Eh, it's not rude. Just pointin' out the obvious here."

"Not to worry, no offense taken," Thalyssra chuckled as she watched the two argue, "Well, as long as you three are here to help I should-..."

The sound of footsteps echoing throughout the hallway silenced the Nightborn as all three Remanant born' present turned to face the sound of the approaching footsteps.

"Ah, perfect timing." Thalyssra exclaimed as the silhouette of an individual came into sight, their face obscured by the shadows of the decrepit old chamber, "Warriors of Remnant, may I introduce you to the hero who saved me from the claws of the Withered and helped us first establish Shal'Aran."

Both Ozpin and Qrow only silently stared in fascination at the figure, leaving Glynda to once again take the social initiative, greeting the newcomer with a small nod of her head. "Greetings. We look forward to working with you."

The figure let out a small huff of amusement, lifting up a hand, giving a single wave.

"Hey."