Despite her tunnel vision Pyrrha's tactical mind was still present. Part of the benefit of everyday training. Her mind told her the biggest threat would be Bear Man and his already drawn cleaver, so he was her next target.
She launched herself at him with wild eyes and a vicious snarl that she was only dimly aware of. She brought her right hand across in a horizontal swipe, her claws scraping through the flesh of his neck and severing his jugular. Blood spewed forth like a fountain from his neck as he took a single choking breath. Before he could finish it, she brought her straightened and bloodstained left hand up through his lower jaw and straight towards his brain. The base of his skull broke with little resistance and her sharpened hand dug into brain matter before ripping outwards again. It had taken her two seconds to dispatch him.
Her body moved on instincts honed by years of combat, slashing her bladed forearm left and directly into the chest of another of the monsters. A ragged cough sprayed blood across her left arm as she brought it up into a vicious uppercut directly behind his chin. Already crimson spikes collided with bone as both jaw and teeth shattered and the man fell limply to the ground. A piercing shriek tore her attention to Teeth. She was staring at the mangled mess that used to be Amber and wailing at the top of her lungs. She imagined the families around them had much the same reaction when they saw the heads and chests of their loved ones explode as bullets tore through them.
Snarling, she chopped with her right hand into the throat of Teeth. Her windpipe collapsed from the pressure and the woman fell to her knees, clawing at the sudden, and now permanent, lack of oxygen. It was around this time that the other monsters seemed to get over their shock and react. Two of the silent ones, including Ram, turned and sprinted to where their guns lay by their old spot. Another ran off towards the back of the caravan, screaming and shouting as she did. The other three bellowed at her in hatred with tear filled eyes and cracking throats. One came from directly in front of her, his leg almost buffeting over the dying form of Teeth, while the other two ran at her from her left. All had small knives gripped in their hands.
She raised her left leg and brought her heel to bear on the man in front of her's face; he raised his arm to block but the sheer weight of the limb and power behind the blow shattered his bone. He screamed once before the sharpened spike on her heel dug into his temple. Her leg's momentum continued and she brought the man's skull to the hard embrace of the road, crushing it between the stone and her heel. Simultaneously, she brought her left arm up, twisting the raised arm of the man who had been about to strike, and used her leverage to yank the man in front of her's body before her, just in time for his ally's knife to plunge deep into his chest. The woman's eyes widened as the beginning's of a scream began to tear from his lips. It ended with a crack as Pyrrha snapped his neck.
Pyrrha shoved the corpse towards the woman, setting her off balance as she attempted to catch the literal dead weight thrust towards her. The sounds of guns cocking and being raised from further behind the shocked and off balance woman indicated that Ram and his friend were ready to fire. She ducked behind the still off balance woman as Ram and his friend unleashed dust propelled lead at where her form used to be. She didn't hear the bullets as much as she felt them rip by her, displaced air angrily shoving its way into her face. She was confident that her armor could shrug off rounds of this caliber, but if at all possible she would like to avoid getting shot rather than survive it.
She pushed herself into the woman, causing the air from her lungs to burst outwards in an explosive breath as her shoulder caught her square in the back. She charged the gunners, using the still living woman as a human shield as she did so. She heard the firing stop as the two realized what she was doing, and she heard them desperately try figure a way around it as she drew ever closer. They didn't.
With one hand she shoved the ex-shield straight into the gunner on Ram's right, hearing two misfires as the woman panicked and forgot where her trigger finger was. Ram would've had a clear shot at her had she not swiped with her left arm, knocking the firearm aside as rounds barked uselessly into the air. In the same motion she brought her armored crown down in a crushing headbutt, the spikes on it making their uses on non-aura'd foes apparent as multiple tiny holes the size of nails appeared in the man's forehead. She heard him gasp before she brought her right arm up to his armpit and severed the artery there. He would bleed to death in a minute.
Content with Ram's imminent death, she turned her body and attention towards the two struggling women on the ground. The ex-shield was clutching a hole in her leg and hyperventilating. She must be in shock. The other was just beginning to get her feet under her and point the gun in her general direction before Pyrrha was on top of her again. She brought all her weight down in an armored stomp on the woman's right arm that held the gun, crushing it between her foot and the ground. Her other foot came up in a vicious kick, the spiked toe of her boot ramming itself under her jaw and into the base of her skull, cutting off the woman's scream before it began.
Her head snapped to the sound of ragged breathing coming from her right. The woman was clutching her leg as blood oozed from the pool that had formed in the hole. Her whole form was trembling like a dead autumn leaf in the wind, her eyes were wide and tremendously dilated as they stared unblinkingly at her gore covered face. Tears flowed freely from her eyes, and Pyrrha thought she could smell piss emanating from the woman, though it could also be from one of the corpses nearby. She removed her boot from the other woman's head with a wet schlunk, not bothering to shake off the bits of bone and the coating of blood that clung to it. She took two deliberate steps towards the woman, her crimson-stained ivory form towering over the cowering figure below.
"Please…" She begged. That one word caught all of her attention, and for a millisecond the rage behind her eyes died and her sanity gasped for air as it resurfaced. But something behind the woman caught her eye: it was the the form of a woman clutching a small child to her chest. Both of them were dead. Where the woman's head had been only splattered bits of bone and the jutting of her spine into the chilly air remained. The boy's chest might as well have no longer existed, his organs and muscles were mincemeat.
These monsters did this. Her whole body went rigid with renewed rage as the darkness thrashed and roared in the vortex of her mind, and, ever so slowly, she turned her head back to the injured woman before her. She didn't even understand, did she? She didn't even know. How many of these families had uttered that same word? And how many were shown that kindness?
None.
Monsters, all of them.
Her arm thrust forward, hand grabbing the woman's face, claws pricking the skin of her cheeks as she turned the woman's head towards the two bodies. Make her understand, a voice whispered in her mind, make her feel the pain they did.
"I-I don't-" she was cut off by a snarl from Pyrrha. She raised her other arm and pointed with her gauntleted finger at the corpses until she knew what Pyrrha was indicating. Then, with a growl and a flick of her wrist, she pointed back at the injured woman before her. She may not be able to speak, but she hoped the message would be clear enough. Based off the pathetic stammering and stuttering sounds the woman made she figured it had gotten the point across.
"I-I didn't, I-they were," a choked and garbled cough. "I-I didn't kill them."
If Pyrrha could still raise her eyebrow, she would. She gestured at the carnage around her with a sweep of her arm, before bringing it back in a sharp point that dug into the woman's sternum. She still didn't understand.
Pyrrha opened her mouth to speak. If this was the only way she could make the woman understand then by Dust she'd do it. She wanted this demon to realize what she was.
Dry rasps and growls became ever more apparent as words as she strained her vocal chords. The woman's eyes were almost all pupil now they were so dilated.
"Moooonssstttteeeer," the 'r' morphed into a growl as her mouth closed.
The woman's eyes moved nonstop across the graveyard, taking in every detail before coming back to Pyrrha's own burning emerald and crimson orbs. Her mouth moved wordlessly as she struggled to find a rebuke. She didn't.
Good. She wanted her to realize what she was, and be haunted by it for the rest of her life.
With a satisfied grunt, Pyrrha let go of the woman's face and gripped her by her collar. She stood to her full height, raising the woman off the ground as she did. The woman's left foot kicked desperately for the ground, her right merely hung limply, dripping blood from the wound on her thigh.
Monsters deserve no mercy, the voice whispered.
Pyrrha placed her bladed right forearm against the neck of the woman. She couldn't feel the flesh give way and the slow trickle of blood that indicated broken skin, not when it was on her armor. But she could see it. The rage within her glowed, and she was afraid she smiled, but she wasn't sure.
"There!" A panicked shout followed by the cocking of guns caused her head to snap to the left, back to the direction of the ruined caravan. About thirty or so monsters stood facing her, dust rifles pressed against their shoulders and levelled at her chest. Their masks obscured their eyes, but she could tell by their ultra rigid posture and twitching muscles that she unsettled them. For some strange reason there was no fear at all in Pyrrha's chest, instead it was an odd mix of contentment and hatred that simmered in her mind, clogging it with fog.
At the center of the monster's formation was one of the wrecked carts, and on top of it stood a boy. Not a man, but a boy. He was lithe and stood two feet shorter than her, tiny rat ears poked out of the top of his hood, and before him he gripped a steel scimitar, the blade shaking as his arms did. He had peach fuzz growing around his lips and chin, and a scar ran from his wrist to his elbow. His mask held a single red diamond between the eyes, perhaps an indicator of his rank as none of the other Faunus had them. He was green. And not in the color way, but in the fresh way, the rookie way. This would be his first mission, and she supposed that made sense. Raiding a slow moving caravan full of mostly civilian families with only a small amount of dust and supplies was hardly important, and barely anything could go wrong.
Except it did, she did.
Nervous swallowing, the clenching and unclenching of plastic and steel, and the unsteady and shallow breaths of the woman she held were the only sounds on the road.
"Put Gelba down." She cocked her head in surprise at the boy, he was still trembling tremendously, but his voice, save for a single crack, was quite steady. There was some courage in him.
She shifted her attention back to the woman she held aloft. She didn't bother to beg this time, maybe she knew she deserved death, or maybe the blade against her throat made it too difficult to talk. She watched the blood trickle down her plate in tiny rivulets and drip off her elbow, her crimson trim really was almost the exact same shade as blood.
A cough from the boy. "Put Gelba down." He was getting more nervous now, that much was obvious by the slight raise in pitch of his voice. She turned back to him yet again, meeting his purple eyes with her own. She shook her head, and then she charged.
She hefted "Gelba's" form in front of her as she closed in on the left side of the semi-circle. The right would have to maneuver around the cart to get a shot at her, and if she was in a melee they couldn't shoot her without friendly fire.
"Don't shoot!" The boy's voice cracked three times in two syllables from panic.
She was twenty feet away now.
The left side was growing nervous, their fingers brushing up against the thin steel of the triggers.
"Don't shoot!"
Fifteen feet.
"Do not fire!"
Ten.
The red fog that clouded her mind seemed almost alive, growing in its distortion as she drew ever closer to their line. Her rage licked its coarse and cracked lips in anticipation of the bloodshed, and she could feel a laugh rising in her throat. It terrified her. It exhilarated her. Seven feet away was too close for someone on the left as a single gunshot rang out from the rightmost side of the left flank. She heard Gelba scream as the bullet tore through her; she wasn't sure where her shield had been hit, save that it wasn't anywhere immediately fatal like the heart or brain.
"Stop! Don't-"
The boy was cut off by the crashing of bone, the meaty sound of flesh colliding with flesh, and in the indistinct and incoherent shouting of the melee. At five feet away Pyrrha again threw her shield into her foe, this time taking two men down with the still screaming Gelba. The man before her had a second to make eye contact with his death before an armored hand ripped out his throat. Pyrrha turned to the left, deflecting the butt of a rifle off her left forearm as her right fist punched through the Faunus' gut, severing his spine. She lashed behind her with her left leg and twisted, the spiked heel of her boot colliding with the neck of a woman who had been about to shoot her. She rotated her body with her foot as it came back to the ground, pushing off once it was free of the woman's neck and straight into the man behind her.
Pyrrha whirled and spun among the left side, and not a single spin, turn, swing, or thrust was wasted. Every move was calculated, every ounce of momentum utilized. It was a dance, a blood and rage filled dance of death, but still somehow beautiful.
Twenty-six seconds later the last of the monsters on the left side fell to the ground with an extra hole in his throat. All the while she had seen the right side pull round the front of the wagon and face her, weapons bared and barrels glistening dully in the grey mist of the day. She'd heard the green commanders desperate pleas to hold their fire, and as the last of the dead clattered against the road she turned her full attention towards them.
They were trembling, from rage and sadness, from sickness and fear, they were trembling. Arms shook and weapons wobbled as they stared at her in various extremes of emotion. She could tell from the minute movements of their heads that some were scanning the corpses she'd made, a few locking onto a face here and there and staring at her with renewed hatred. Where before she had flinched away from such gazes, here she just shrugged it off. You're justified, a voice whispered in her mind, muscling through to the tiny alcove of rational thought in her mind, they brought this on themselves. Her hands clenched into fists at her side. They're the monsters here, just look around.
They deserve this.
"Fiiiire!" The cracking voice of the young commander rang out across the now silent carnage. It took a full second for the soldiers to regain control of themselves and pull the triggers. A second that probably saved her life. She brought her forearms to bare together in front of her head and neck, forming a vertical wall of bone plate over the more lightly protected part of her body during their hesitation. Bullets pinged off plate all across her body, not a single one breaking the stalwart defense. They were normal sized rounds, and they hurt somewhat, like getting smacked with a golf ball through protective padding; a dull and distant ache, but nothing serious or life threatening.
Suddenly, the air that was once filled with the sound of fifteen dust rifles went quiet, the din of controlled explosions ricocheting off the forest until they faded into the rustling of the wind blown leaves.
She lowered her arms, revealing her unharmed face to the line of soldiers that fumbled with their guns in fear, desperately scrabbling for new magazines of ammunition. She didn't give them the chance.
Her feet pounded against the broken flagstones as she charged him. The boy that had tried oh so hard to be a brave man in the face of a new terror. She deflected the panicked swipe of his scimitar off her right forearm before launching her hand into the underside of his jaw, and yanking outwards. She could hear the tendons rip and the jaw hinge snap as she removed his lower jaw, and all the flesh that came with it, from his head. His tongue dangled helplessly as he screamed, her elbow buffeted him to the ground as she passed, and he was too disoriented and in pain to remember to protect his head as he fell. With a resounding crack the back of his skull met unyielding stone and he went silent. She had already moved into the ranks of the others.
The first screamed and dropped her weapon, desperately back pedalling and scrambling to turn around and run as she closed in on her. The others soon followed suit. Five or six stayed and attempted to fight her off, whether it was out of rage, stupidity, or some malformed sense of honor she didn't know. The lake of blood grew as their gallons mixed with the others.
She turned to find the others fleeing toward the back of the caravan, the crimson symbol of the White Fang displayed prominently in defeat. Kill them, it rasped, they did the same to these innocents. Red-green eyes scanned the caravan. To these children.
These monsters had shown no mercy to the unarmed refugees that formed this caravan. She would give the fleeing soldiers the same treatment.
She pulled her sharpened gauntlet out of the last of the soldiers gut with a wet schlick, stopping briefly to shake her hand clean of the leftover gore. She turned on her heel and headed back towards the very front of the caravan. There was still one thing she had left to do.
The sharp thudding crack of her boots on stone echoed across the ruins as she made her way towards the source of the labored breathing and wracking sobs that contested her sound for dominance. There, sprawled in the center of her comrades bodies, was the woman she had used for a shield. Gelba was her name. She had a new bullet hole on her body, this one marring the flesh of her tricep. She lay in an ever growing pool of blood that was not her own, staring up at the cloudy sky as she murmured incoherently in between sobs.
Gelba's eyes shot towards Pyrrha's face as her form was shrouded in the shadow of this new terror, and suddenly all her sobbing ceased. Her murmuring continued, but it was all nonsensical begging. Begging her mother for forgiveness for an unknown wrong, apologizing to some far off sibling for not being there enough. She whispered a greeting to the sky about a dead lover as Pyrrha circled and crouched over her form.
Pyrrha was disgusted. Here was a wom-a murderer begging for the forgiveness of her friends and family. If anyone deserved her begging it was the refugees who laid dead and mutilated around them. The ones she had helped to slaughter. Yet she had the gall to ignore them and ask her family for forgiveness for minor slights, she had no right.
Pyrrha's arm thundered forth and clasped Gelba's throat in an iron grip. Her red and green eyes flashing as the flow of words ceased. Slowly, deliberately, she dragged her right hand across the woman's face, leaving behind five gash marks as she did so, her hand had just reached the end of the woman's right jawline when she heard it.
For the second time that day she heard the panicked scream of that little girl, but this time it came from the woods to her right, about seventy-five feet away, give or take about fifteen or so. All thought of justice on the woman below instantly fled her mind as her head and body snapped towards the source of the sound and she took off like a missile through the brush. Boughs snapped and bushes were crushed as she bulldozed through the foliage, pouring all her energy into her legs to go as fast as she could. A second scream, this one was much closer now, only twenty or so feet away.
Pyrrha's mind was dominated by the thought of protecting that little girl, she didn't care who or what was in her way, she'd tear them to shreds as she had before.
A third scream sounded from before her as she tore through the foliage and into a wide clearing littered with dandelions and blood red poppies. On the far right side was the little girl, she was pressed back against an old oak gouged with claw marks from strikes she must have somehow dodged. Cornering her was a young, mindless Beowulf. It's whole being was focused on the screaming morsel in front of it as its claw began to raise once more.
Pyrrha's mind took all this in in a second, her body automatically changing directions and barreling towards the Beowulf. She closed the gap in the blink of an eye, just as the thing's paw had reached maximum height. A roar forced its way from her lips as she tackled the beast to the ground, it grunted in surprise, quickly followed by pain as Pyrrha snapped it's arm. Her right fist grabbed its snout and squeezed, while her left formed a point and plunged into the beast's chest. It attempted to howl, but her grip remained firm; her left fist found its heart and she pierced it, before releasing her right fist and crushing its snout twice for good measure.
She pushed herself bodily off the still form and towards the the quivering girl on her right. Anger flared within her as she noted that only one of her two ears remained atop her head. Her flowing brown hair was matted and blackened by dried blood, descending in ill formed clots dotted with leaves and twigs. Her yellow eyes stared back widely at Pyrrha's, pupils dilated to plates as her whole body tensed and shook.
It was imperative that Pyrrha not scare the child anymore than she already was, but with a gore covered form like hers how could she not?
The doll.
With extra care to make all of her motion slow and deliberate, Pyrrha moved her hand towards her sash, and the doll that still lay nestled in the knot. The girls wide, yellow eyes followed her every motion with a hefty amount of fear, followed by an even larger amount of confusion when Pyrrha offered the little girl the doll with her outstretched arm. The girl's eyes kept flitting back and forth between her mask and the doll in her alabaster and ebony hand, her face switching between utter bewilderment and fear with each focus.
It must've been thirty or so seconds of pure analyzing later that the girl seemed to settle on a decision. She locked eyes with Pyrrha and moved her arm slowly to grasp the thing's delicate torso. Tiny fingers gripped it and in the blink of an eye she yanked her arm back towards her body. She pressed the thing against her chest protectively with one arm, while the pure white knuckles that gripped the tree seemed to regain some color. The girl's expression, once three parts fear and one part confusion, now reversed.
That was all Pyrrha needed though, she smiled, and reached her hand to the back of her left hip, fingers brushing against the cold steel of her scroll. She pulled the two ends apart gently before typing a message across the screen. Hello, what's your name?
She held the scroll before the girl and delighted in the way her small jaw went slightly slack at the realization that a Grimm was speaking to her. She stood there, mouth agape, for a few seconds before attempting to speak; her mouth moved, but no words came. Taking a deep, and rather shaky breath, she spoke, "Brunt," she said, her trembling voice barely above a whisper.
Pyrrha's smile grew wider and, she hoped, warmer. That's a beautiful name, Brunt. My name is-wait. Did she really want the girl to know her name? Her fingers froze above the keyboard. Pyrrha Nikos was a famous name, she knew that, hell, the fame had practically been ingrained into her life. It wouldn't be that surprising if the girl was a fan of hers, or looked up to the Champion of Mistral. Maybe one day she hoped she could follow in her footsteps and become a great huntress herself.
Did she want to show her what she'd become?
No. No, she didn't. The girl might not even be a fan, but just in case she was, she wouldn't share her true name. She didn't want to hurt her, even if it hurt herself to hide her already fading identity.
-is Thetis. Her mother's name would do. Would you like to come with me?
She held the scroll before the girl, and couldn't help but notice the way her eyes managed to go even wider upon reading it.
Hastily, she pulled the scroll back again and explained herself. I could keep you safe, keep anything like what happened today from ever happening again. No monsters, Grimm or human, will harm you in my company. I promise.
She held the scroll back out again and let her read. Pyrrha's heart was racing, and not from the combat she'd so recently been in. No, her heart was racing because of Brunt. She desperately wanted to protect her, and she'd be lying if she said it was for entirely selfless reasons. Most of it was selfless, true, but there was a part of her that ached for humanity, for confirmation that she wasn't a monster, and she saw that potential confirmation, and company, in the little girl before her.
But she was also terrified. What if the girl said no? She couldn't very well leave her out in the middle of the Grimm and White Fang infested forest, miles from any town or village. The girl would absolutely die. But how would she go about convincing her of that fact if she didn't already see it? What did she say, or rather, type?
The silence seemed to stretch on for eternity, the girl clutching the doll to her chest with one hand while the other fiddled mindlessly with the hem of her dress. Pyrrha's unoccupied hand began to stir, her sharpened gauntlets scratching the tough skin of her palm. A bird sang a song from her left, a rabbit rustled the bushes on her right, the leaves brushed and laughed with the wind, and the girl finally spoke.
"You promise?" Her eyes were full of a strange mix of hope and fear, her voice trembled slightly and she nearly popped the head off the doll she pressed it so tightly. Pyrrha was just about to nod yes when her mind was overwhelmed by a memory.
She was back in Beacon, in her team's room. The beds were still made and the room was still, well, standing, so it couldn't have been after her return. She was aware of a voice, her voice, emerging whole and beautiful and coherent from her throat.
"Yes Nora, I-I might have some...feelings for Jaune, but that doesn't matter, he's clearly interested in Weiss. I don't want to get between them." The vertically challenged ginger's eyes before her suddenly lit up. "And no, you cannot get between them for me." The light dimmed just a tiny bit. "And you cannot tell anyone about this, not even Ren."
The evening light shone soft and golden through the dorm windows, the neatly folded white bedsheets scattering the gold to every surface in the room. Even though no lights were on the room was still well lit by the sun, and it was a nicer light, more pleasant and soothing than the artificial white of dust lamps or tournament lights. She liked it. The faint smell of maple syrup -no doubt the work of Nora- drifted through her nostrils and made her mouth water slightly at the enchanting scent. Some uniforms, mostly boys, lay scattered across the otherwise spotless hardwood floor, and a single shoe was somehow impaled in the ceiling.
Nora placed both hands on her hips and smiled devilishly up at her. "Come on, Pyrrha, where's the fun in that?"
"I'm serious Nora. Promise me right now you won't tell anyone. Especially not Jaune." The ginger hesitated. "Please."
Nora sighed, before her hand shot up in front of Pyrrha's face, some unknown digit almost piercing her nostril.
"Nora?" She said, emerald eyes crossed tremendously in a vain effort to spot the illusive digit. "I'm afraid I don't-"
"Pinky promise." She stated it as if it was the most normal thing in the world, even though Pyrrha had no idea what that was.
"What?"
The ginger's grin widened even further, and her hand moved back from her nose, the digit that almost reached her brain revealing itself to be the girl's pinky finger. "A pinky promise is a super duper serious promise, Pyrrha; it can never ever be broken under any circumstances." She cocked her head questioningly. "You've never heard of one before?"
Pyrrha shook her head, releasing the same nervous laugh she always did when she was confronted with just how friendless and socially empty her life had been until this year. "N-no, I have not."
"Well, now you have. Here, take your hand and hold out just your pinky like me. Good, now we lock them together like this." The girl drew herself to her full height, putting on as serious a face as Pyrrha had ever seen on her.
"I, Nora Valkyrie, do pinky promise to never tell anyone, even Renny, about Pyrrha's huge crush on Jaune." She gave her a sly smile and a wink before she coughed.
Pyrrha could've sworn she heard the phrase: "not that I'd ever need to," mixed in the cough, but her ears were probably just playing tricks on her.
A wave of relief and gratitude swept through her body like an avalanche, relaxing every muscle that had gone rigid as she confessed one of her darkest secrets to Nora. She sighed a happy sigh as her mouth split into a smile. "Thank you, Nora."
And just like that, Pyrrha was back in the clearing; blood and bits of flesh coating her bone armor, the soft golden light replaced with the hazy grey of a cloudy day. Where the scent of maple syrup had graced her nose, the strong metallic scent of blood, the burnt ozone of discharged dust, and the heavy smell of woodsmoke and burning flesh now invaded it. And before her, instead of the ever reckless and manic Nora Valkyrie, was a scared little girl dressed all in brown who looked up at her expectantly.
Without a second thought Pyrrha retracted the scroll from the girl's view and typed a new message.
She held her hand out, completely in a fist save for one digit that stood solidly at attention.
Pinky Promise.
Brunt smiled.
A/N: Oh boy, this chapter. Twelve easily holds the record for most rewrites and adjustments out of any chapter I've written for this story so far. Originally a lot more, I guess angsty maybe(?), I toned it down a lot to its current form, so I hope you guys like it.
Poor Wizard had to go through all this and read it in all its word-vomit glory, so give the guy a round of applause for not strangling my sorry ass! Anyway, this marks the end of pre-written material for The Ivory Champion, and no, I'm not gonna stop updating. Just letting you guys know that, while I'll still aim for weekly and might even make it somewhat consistently, I'm not just editing and uploading a chapter from now on, I'll be doing it all in one week, so if a chapter doesn't get uploaded right on time it's probably something in real life got in the way of me finishing it up.
Let me know what you guys think of this chapter, as always any and all feedback is welcome (it's how one grows as an author after all)! In other news I've written the first four chapters of my canon-divergent assassin-esque Ruby fic, so I might go ahead and upload the first chapter of that once I think of a freaking title.
Also in planning stages for writing a RWBY/GoT/ASoIaF crossover because that crossover section is criminally underpopulated. (Though I am somewhat floundering between LotR and GoT, let me know if you guys have a preference, I'm thinking GoT because I know the world better, but on the other hand RWBY vs Nazguls and Trolls and the Balrog and shit).
That's all for today, folks, have a good one and stay safe this week!