Volume CRBN!

by Dancesnapple

Four individuals. Four different people of different walks of life resulting in an adventure. Hopefully, a bond that can last. Team CRBN (carbon). Features: OC Main character, main team has two OCs alongside a lovable crime duo, and some family drama on all sides. Features a 'soundtrack' element for the fic. ENJOY! Story begins on third listed chapter. Very slow start.

69. 67 Isle of Sky and Shadow

Small note: I changed the chapter names for this chapter and one later on.

Chapter Sixty Seven: Isle of Sky and Shadow

The bathroom door opens in the hotel room. Steam mists out as Blair exits, straightening her hair in a ponytail. Her left bangs framing that side of her face, she eyes a mirror and fixes the angle the strands fall. She's dressed, save for only wearing a white bra for her top.

At the bed, Roman steps up, twirling his hat in one hand before putting it on. "Ah, you ARE alive. I was beginning to assume you drowned." He then winks. "Though, I will say the view is refreshing."

She snaps a glare at him, beginning to pull her top on. "Oh, I'm sorry for taking so long." She says sarcastically. "Though I wouldn't have exactly needed the shower if someone hadn't mindlessly shot-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. In the eye." Roman cuts her off, smiling despite the exasperated tone as he pulls on his other glove. "I said sorry. Besides, take it more as a compliment! It's quite difficult to control the urges with you." He ends with a smarmy grin.

Blair cuts a look at him, though her lip betrays a curve up. "You're treating breakfast for that." She pulls her high cropped jacket on and smirks fully. "Next time, semblances are allowed."

That gives the man pause. "Uh... Mine isn't cut out for coitus." He eyes her more then realizes it. "I mean, if I'm the one getting treated, I can't complain."

"Just means when you tap first, I can mock you very publicly mock for your performance." Blair quips before marching for the door.

Roman is left growling. The glaring future emasculation tempers the short term fun. "Uh, think that's a bit unfair, Barbie." He follows after as the two leave the hotel room. Carmine, Neo, and Makara only left two hours ago, so the two have the remainder of morning and all day to investigate the temple atop Isla Candidus.

"Like you ever play fair." The woman hums a chuckle.

. . .

A full breakfast later, the couple moves their way up the mountain paths for the trek. Roman looks to the small pouch hung clipped to Blair's belt sash. "Did you ever make any headway on that device? You had a good deal of time with Silver Streak yesterday."

Blair shakes her head, the two hiking over an uneven path before it smooths. "No. Actually, I allowed Makara to take the Servo with their group. It's her aura inside, so letting her have it for an emergency seemed more pertinent." She then sighs. "Also, Carmine took most of my attention yesterday."

"As he typically does." Roman snorts.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Blair cuts a look at him.

"Be real, Barbie." Roman chuckles. "All your effort about being all business and professional, but that kid reveals your inner caretaker. You're puddy to mold to his problems."

Heated, she shoots back. "His problems require attention and are far from the norm."

"Did I say you were wrong for it?" He smirks. "Just admit that you're a little adoptive Momma Barbie."

"I'll admit such delusional fantasies the day you admit you actually care about others." At his incredulous look, she corrects. "Specifically those of similar circumstance as yourself."

"I don't give a damn about any people. People are bastards. They're bastard coated bastards with bastard filling." Roman iterates in a smarmy grin.

"Yet you're so chipper when Neo is happy, I know your history with Carmine, and you played hero for our new addition." Blair smirks as she verbally jabs through his facade. "Just because you don't fret over morons doesn't sell the delusion that you're a cold blooded monster. A rose that pretends to have thorns."

Roman gags. "Never, ever compare me to roses." He hurriedly snaps. To date, Carmine is the only one to know his true last name. He plans to keep it that way. "The most ridiculous symbol of fickle emotions. Yuck."

"Just admit that you have the capacity to cherish people or you wouldn't be here."

"Just admit that caring for Silver Streak and Neo has usurped your old personal goals." He fires back.

Both adults stop, locking glares at one another high on the mountain accompanied only by wind.

"You finished?" Blair asks softly.

"I am if you are." Roman smirks before continuing on.

As they march on, Blair glares at the ground. It's true. She'd made plenty of strides with her blood, aura, and semblance research over time in CRBN. However, even sitting on a major breakthrough device, she chose to use her time for Carmine. That just begs a question after. "Roman, what do you plan to do after we've defeated AZRL? Surely, you're not just going to return to Junior."

He snorts. "As if. Much as I may enjoy doing business with the man, I don't plan on being subservient to him." A short pause fills the air as he continues on. "Do you already have plans?"

"Depending on how fast we take them down, maybe." Blair eyes the trail ahead zigzagging ahead. "Truthfully, after AZRL is defeated, I expect Carmine and Neo to get a true education. Likely Haven seeing how Carmine has yet to repair any relationship with his father."

"What? You don't think they'd just adore military Atlas life?" Roman sarcastically cuts in.

Ignoring him, she continues. "And I will likely do what I planned before discovering AZRL. I'll submit my research findings directly to the SDC to obtain a position as a researcher against Ozpin's blacklisting." She shrugs after. "Assuming our actions don't get me branded a criminal outright anyway."

Roman smirks at that. "Why not do as that Medusa lady does?"

A dark look bores into his back. "I don't plan on torching my public persona intentionally. Besides, that's a job you could realistically do."

"Pfft! Yeah. Not happening."

"I'm serious. Taking down AZRL would put the kingdoms all in favor of you. It couldn't be too terrible a challenge to ingratiate General Ironwood to you with something like that under your proverbial belt."

Roman strokes his chin in thought. "Having the leader of a kingdom congratulating me DOES sound like quite the bucket list accomplishment." He snickers. "But, that's a road to come to later. If, and I mean IF, we do actually demolish AZRL... I know exactly who I should confront after."

"Old rivals?" Blair muses. "You want to drag us into another fight?"

Laughing it off, a challenging smirk comes. "No... No, I think after all this, it'll finally be time to confront my dear uncle."

Blair stops herself from stumbling. She stares openly at the man as he continues on.

"Just to laugh in his face that I destroyed the very people that made him shit himself once upon a time." He looks over his shoulder at her. "And that's all you get for now."

The woman smiles. "Well, if you're after a victory lap, I hear those are done better with fair company."

He grins wide. "Ah, yes. I can knock on his door and show off my bomb shell Barbie hanging off my arm." He winks before Blair playfully shoves him with one arm, nearly knocking him down the mountain slope.

"Don't push it." The blonde rounds a bend and stops. Eyes wide, she waits for Roman to round beside her himself.

"Whoa..."

Before them is the end of a path connecting to a long stone bridge. The bridge carries over a dip between the slope they stand on, over towards the primary peak of the mountain. Across the bridge is... almost a fortress, but a massive temple carved into the mountain top. Banners wave in the wind as symbols show carved into each surface.

Blair and Roman exchange looks before she takes the lead. Marching across the bridge to a stair case between arches. Strangely, no one meets them. No one is present...

"Is it supposed to be a ghost temple?" Blair asks.

"Ciara said the temple is open to the public and guarded by the man who dwells here. Although, I at least expected SOME form of population." He eyes around them. "You sense anyone, Barbie? I don't see any tech security whatsoever. Truly a native temple."

Blair closes her eyes and feels out with her semblance-

"Ah!" She sucks in air, low and guttural in sound. Her presence senses a presence that... does the same?

A pulsing outward like a sonar radar over a great wide area of the mountain. Farther out than her own does. Everything around them pings back to her in aura that she almost could call red. Looking with her mind's eye, it's as if a radar ping of violet interacts harmoniously with the crimson sea of the same.

"He knows we're here." Amber eyes open up, cut ahead as Blair tenses. "Whoever he is, he uses his own aura as a sort of radar, same as I. Except, much larger scale. The cloud of aura he's emitting is obscuring my sense. I can't read his actual location." She eyes Roman. "Stay on guard."

"I appreciate the awareness." A deep voice rumbles politely.

Blair and Roman each twist to find the single figure sitting atop the nearest arch. The muscular red maned dog faunus, wearing a green one shoulder tunic, black pants, and white sash. He has his spear in hand as a walking stick, the green fur coif hanging off it. Green eyes peer upon them, a smile greeting them.

"Welcome to my people's temple. I am Setante, Cu de Culann. It is not often that I receive visitors."

The two CRBN members don't remove their eyes from him, Roman raising a brow. "Despite this place being... public?"

Setante huffs a laugh. "One would be surprised how much living up hill deters visitors." He drops from the arch, landing in front of the two with grace. He stands several inches taller than Roman. "So, I offered my name. By common courtesy..."

"You may call me Blair. This is Roman." Blair gestures out to the man before continuing on. "The two of us and others are here at your islands tracking information on a powerful criminal. We believe you are the best source of information to further our endeavor."

The faunus raises a brow and nods. "I see. Let us discuss this at the inner sanctum."

"For privacy? We're already alone." Roman points out.

The faunus gives a humorous chuckle. "No, no. That's where I left my drink to come meet you." He marches forward, leading the two into the temple. As they walk, Roman looks at Blair for any indications, but Blair's eyes remain locked on the man.

This aura... is strange.

. . .

Setante leads the two to a small blanket set off center in a sanctum surrounded by large pillars and banners with tribal etchings. The blanket is topped with a picnic basket, a bottle poking out the top. Roman saw fit to explain in half truth their reason for being here.

"A criminal associated with the dead families. It's been a long time since such a thing has been an issue." The dog faunus grimaces in disgust. "It's been least a decade since the last one of those stragglers caused a ruckus."

"So, this was a common occurrence once upon a time." Roman grumbles. "That certainly widens our search."

"Do not mistake my meaning. It was never common. However, if survivors of Cadavera made themselves known, they were typically warped by the event. Traumatized and lost in the winds with no guide." Setante leans down to obtain bottled tea and cups. "None would ever have a coherent tale of that night, and all would reject any offered assistance, choosing to lash out." He holds an empty cup out. "Tea?"

"Not a fan." Roman rudely answers.

"I would appreciate some." Blair nods with her answer. The faunus pours her a cup, handing it off.

"Mixed with local herbs for a sound soul." Setante speaks jovially, Roman quirking a brow. "However, if you're after information of the dead, I'll either need better to go off of, or you'll have to go to the island yourself, I'm afraid."

Blair accepts the drink. "A quick way to cross reference our information at least would be a list of surnames lost due to the tragedy. That would at least confirm to us that our target is associated with the Isle." She takes a drink, freezing stunned as she hums. "Mm... This is quite lovely, actually."

The man grins at the appreciation. "I appreciate the compliment." He looks them dead on. "What is the last name you're looking for?"

"Zandril." Roman states.

A deep frown and look of concentration comes over the wild red maned faunus. "Hmm..." Suddenly, his eyes widen noticeably. "I know a Zanda surname as well as Delwin. It doesn't happen often, but when a family line is at risk of running out, they may merge into another of the families as a cousin branch. Their former last name and new family's last combine into a new combination in our customs. The seed of a new family legacy from the ashes of old."

"Foolish." Roman states annoyed.

"Roman!"

"And I am assuming both of those came from the dead island?" Roman presses.

"Zanda does, but Delwin does not." Setante smirks. "I would know that, being a Delwin tribesman myself." He calls out chipper.

Roman twitches. "Ah, so jerking us around." He grumbles.

"What about the symbol used by our target. A three eyed skull with no jaw." The blonde shifts topic.

Setante wrinkles his nose. "I'm not one for jests of that nature, Miss Blair." Seeing their expressions lacking humor, he grumbles. "The third eye represents our true self. Our true goals and ambitions lie in the sight of the third eye. Our culture is bent towards the widening of that eye's per view to reach for all divine. Enlightenment of the mind and truth for the body."

He grimaces. "So intermix such a symbol with Isla Cadavera's chief family skull is... a foreboding sign. A true sight and ambition guaranteeing only death in a normal telling. In the best light, to mean freedom in death."

"Do you catalog all your tribes' symbols in this temple?" Blair asks, curious on the subject. "If such combinations exist, I would like to take the time to examine these findings. If our target is truly a member of these tribes, then it would go a long way towards interpreting his mindset and aims... assuming his faithfulness to your beliefs, sir."

Setante raises his brow in thought. His gaze soaks the woman in, eyes hazing over without focus. "There's a bit of difference between being open to the public and outright assisting you with dissecting our people's ways... but, I suppose I may allow a rudimentary study."

"Do you not work with Atlas? I thought doing stuff like that was their thing." Roman snorts as he cuts in.

The faunus shrugs. "They're a nuisance at worst. Part of our cooperation with the kingdom comes with assisting their military tactics. In particular, with faunus." He twitches his dog ears for emphasis. "Two of our islands are home to faunus tribes. Canine of Vallis and avian of Portus. Cadavera and Candidus are both human settled tribes." He chuckles humorlessly. "We didn't all consolidate humanely until a little over a century ago."

Continuing on, he elaborates. "As for Atlas, the military eases up on our ways of life in exchange for our faunus tribes helping to facilitate guerrilla training camps."

"Let me guess. It's to counter the White Fang." Roman assumes.

"And before them, the Fauna Coalition. And before them, another group. It comes and goes." Setante waves off. "You mainlanders are awful slow in resolving the species coexistence issue." He finally looks to Blair again. "I'm willing to help you with our symbol translations, but anything else you would need, you won't find it here."

"Yes, we heard that your people are quite oral in your history keeping." The blonde cuts in.

"That's the young ones being crass and lazy in the old ways." Setante scoffs. Almost childishly, he crosses his arms and looks off. "Each island chief keeps an archive containing symbol histories of important tales."

"Symbol histories?" Roman parrots annoyed, then perks. "Wait, you said every chief? What about the dead island's chief?"

Setante grimaces. "The original temple was destroyed, but if any parchment scrolls or sealed tombs remain, they would be within the rubble. One could try the chief's personal home, but... All attempts at extended reclamation of materials have always yielded deaths as the Grimm moved back in. Atlas eventually mandated a blockade of the island save for occasional extermination hunts with their training forces."

Roman growls. "Can you get us past?" Blair and Setante both jolt. "You have pull with Atlas? They leave your culture alone and such? Can you convince them to allow us onto the island to search the old chief's estate?"

Setante looks between them. "That isn't something I can pull." Before Roman hits back with a snide comment, he adds. "But, I can tell you their patrol setup. If you're brave enough to risk the island, then by honor, I've no qualms letting you attempt doing so. You can find a hole in their groupings for a small vessel."

"Which means finding a less than honorable person with a boat." Blair grumbles.

"You mean ME finding one." He smirks back to the head of the temple. "Which I have one in mind. Go ahead and give me a run down of the patrols."

Blair lets Roman work the kinks of the details with the faunus, but the whole time Blair feels... off.

That feeling radiating off him. It's definitely a semblance, but she cannot detect any tampering with her senses. No ill shifting in the forces.

… No indication of what his semblance is actually doing. What more, the only reason she even knows is the sensory application of her own semblance. The entire time the two have visited the temple, Blair has continued getting a ping off the radiant aura of the area. Despite SEEING Setante and physically interacting with him, she still cannot actually sense him in front of her.

He's forthcoming, not shifting in aura around with his speech. No indications of lying. He seems completely open to them. Yet, she cannot help but wonder.

If he truly is so cooperative, perhaps she could convince him after this to offer blood for her research.

. . .

Ciara raises a brow, eyes narrowed in a glare. "Yeah, the answer to that's gonna be a gritty, dirty, in your face, 'no'." Roman and Blair sit across the booth from Ciara in the seaside bar from yesterday. The yellow clad woman mostly glares at Blair, but seems unusually adamant.

"You're saying no to a hefty pay day? Never thought I'd see the day." Roman plays off.

"Not that. I literally can't." Ciara pouts. "The scuttle boat I own here only holds me and one other person. I can't take you and your girlfriend for an island getaway."

The CRBN blonde hums. "How about we just buy your small boat from you and go ourselves?"

Snorting, the pirate cocks her head snide. "Oh, well you must be a sailor because I KNOW Roman's no sail boat helmsman."

"That would be a no." Roman quips, but frowns. "Okay, how about this. I'll go with you chartered as my ride. Does that sound like a deal?"

Blair tenses and snaps a heated glare at him. "That most certainly does not sound like a deal!" The blonde maintains a locked stare on the man. "The island is packed with Grimm, Roman. Your weapon is most suited to crowd control. Not stealth. If there's a significant Grimm presence that can overwhelm your ammo count, you'll be trapping yourself in a battle of attrition!"

A pause comes over the table before Roman nods. "You're right. BUT!" He smirks. "That's the kind of odds I can work with." He eyes Ciara. "You're also adept at navigating around Grimm, too. So, you can help out for 10,000 Lien?"

Ciara grimaces, unhappy. "Make it 15. I have to be able to recognize Grimm patterns being our group's navigator. Also, I HAVE snuck onto the dead island before, but it's been years since I've been." She looks to her fellow blonde. "The Grimm hordes are calm this time of year." She catches herself, looking off. "Well... calmer than usual."

Blair glances between them before sighing. "Are you at least capable of translating symbol histories for Roman?"

The pirate huffs. "Yes. It's not that complex. Just time consuming."

The CRBN woman narrows a glare on her. "I don't trust her." She speaks to Roman as if Ciara isn't sitting across from them.

"You shouldn't." Both Roman and Ciara state simultaneously before the blonde pirate snickers. "But, money buys loyalty. And don't worry. I promise only to passively hit on Roman while with him." She winks at Blair, eliciting a cold glare from the scientist.

"Then I'll be more direct. I dislike you." Blair clarifies before looking to Roman. "Are you certain this is the only ride you could get?"

"Only one with a fighter capable of defending themselves if something happens. I'm not keen on playing hero or going alone in the Grimm land." Roman shrugs before looking to his girlfriend. "Just let me play sleuth while you learn a bit about the tribal etchings with Chief Guard Hound." He then adds lowly. "Be careful with that, though. Air around that guy feels..."

"I know." Blair nods before sighing. "Alright." She reaches into her inner jacket, into her dust strap. Pulling out three dust vials: White dust, sparkly dark gravity dust, and brown earth dust. "Protect yourself."

"Always." Roman smirks, accepting the dusts. In return, he reaches into an inner pocket, producing a trip wire coil and small parts. "Minimal dust needed. If you need to set up something for peace of mind."

Blair raises a brow as she smirks. "Always prepared." She accepts the tool.

"And yet, we always get in way more than we expect." He ends, grumbling. Hardening to a glare, he adds. "Be wary. He's definitely hiding something up there." At Blair and Ciara's glances, Roman looks to the pirate. "He says he never heard the name Zandril, but Ciara here recognized it from older tales." The conman scowls. "The dog isn't as friendly as he appears."

. . .

Atop the mountain, Setante eyes over the city at the base of the island far below. He sits in a lotus position atop the primary arch of the temple entrance. His aura pings out, acting as a mental radar. Spreading wide... wide... down the height of the mountain, even. His aura spreads, dwarfing the typical range that Blair's own semblance has ever manifested.

And thus, the pings of auras in town read him. Tens turn to hundreds turn to thousands. And he's memorized oh so many of them. Even the ones he cannot apply a face of memory to, he feels a connective tether. Familiarity.

Smiling, he closes his eyes, focusing on the radar...

He begins counting the auras that are completely alien to him. 15 on the docks. Sailors and navy liaisons, he guesses. 103 concentrated on locations he knows to be inns and hotels. Tourists. Of that same mindset, he counts another 84 spread across the city at that moment. Of those 202 auras, only five are unlocked, above average.

Three near the docks. Ah, the two visitors must have found their contact. Another high powered individual.

His mind trails to the two. He begins muttering his thoughts out loud.

"A city man. Definitely a man who has faced hardship. Quick witted and great mental capability. His aura is also quite larger than the dog expected. However, despite the amount of the aura, it felt... unfocused. Not untrained... self trained. Likely someone who never went to a combat school or the academies."

Then the blonde. "The woman. Strong aura... honed and expertly nurtured. Not as large in quantity as the man's, but a single drop of hers eclipses buckets... Her semblance feels... so familiar. Like minded." He smirks. "She must be the first I've come across. So familiar, yet I can feel such a tiny, meaningful difference... She is most definitely academy trained."

His smirk turns to a full grin.

The girl is returning to the mountain... Taking the offer. "Perfect!" He breathes deep, letting the salty air fill his lungs. "I would love to find out just how alike hers is."

Opening his gaze, he ends his semblance. Red aura pulses in the air back into him.

. . .

Arriving at the top of the mountain for the second time this day, Blair huffs, now carrying a satchel with some basic writing supplies and note taking tools. Unlike before, Setante now stands with a warm welcome smile under the arch. "Welcome, Miss Blair."

Blair frowns, but nods. "Hello, Setante. I hope we can make this swift so that I do not waste too much of your time."

"Ha! Do not worry. Most my time stands as a simple guardian. Barring a sudden invasion, do not worry about my time, friend." The faunus grins, turning and leading her back to the outdoor sanctum and beyond.

The two arrive to a contained chiseled room, dug into the mountain some ages ago. It's an entrance carved in to inner chambers, threaded tarps draping as décor. Lead into a grand room containing walls lined with parchment scrolls and tapestries. Symbols of various kinds catch the eye.

Setante leads her to a carve out containing a long bed of scrolls. "Here is a catalog of family crests throughout the last five hundred years of history. Families still going strong are lined on the right end while those of deceased names are ordered from the left."

Blair nods satisfied. "You said that this is told in symbols. Will these contain descriptions of the houses?"

"Each family crest, followed by their moral code, then accomplishments til the old way age the family line ceased." Setante sits in a lotus position. "Any questions I can answer, I will."

The woman's sole response is a hum as she begins. If Zandril is of the dead names, she will be able to find it in the deceased family names. It's only mid afternoon. It should not take too long.

. . .

End this day already.

Roman despises sea travel in anything less than a class act yacht. He barely tolerates the ferries and transport ships. Yet, he absolutely hates low grade boats... Especially this 'scuttle' boat. A short, slim little craft with a depressing looking sail and motorized paddles under the port and starboard sides. The conman sits at the base of the mast, arm hooked around the pillar.

If it weren't foe the mast, Roman could believe he could shoulder carry this vessel without aura. So, the thought of getting attacked at this moment is a scary one. Thankfully, the island is ahead. The dead island, Isla Cadavera.

A smaller island, no wider than fifty yards, pokes out of the waters a short distance from the main island mass. The primary island itself is lush green with mountains positively coated in full grown trees. The mountains part with peaks and valleys throughout the whole land mass.

But no primary peak... That's strange.

Either way, the scuttle boat manages to speed along to the shore, courtesy of the timetable of patrols given by Setante. Soon as they start closing on shore, Ciara rides the boat into the softer sands, shutting the motor paddles off. She steps off the boat, close enough to the island for her feet to touch sand with water up to her chest.

"Hop off and help me drag this to shore. Don't need it drifting away after a Grimm inspects it."

Roman does so, hopping off and helping her drag the vessel onto land. Soon, the two are on the dried peach colored sands. The two quickly get the small vessel to the wood line, safely away from any high tide adjacent area.

"Alright. Where we going now?" Roman calls for the blonde.

"This is the Southwestern beach, and the main settlement of the island was on the East side built inward." Ciara rattles off, checking her weapons, twin grips for whips with curved blades on the ends. The whip lines are coiled tightly at her waist. "Basically two options, Ro. We can run the coast and risk getting spotted by patrols and take longer, or we can cut inward through the ruins where more Grimm will be."

Roman sighs. "And here I'm caught between my brain and what I want." He quips dramatically, but scoffs. "Inward, I suppose. We don't have all day."

"Oh, this'll likely be til mid day tomorrow." Ciara grumbles. "There's Grimm on the coast line too. We won't be moving too fast. Either to avoid the danger, or dealing with it when it comes."

This makes the conman groan. His shoulder sag before he accepts it. "Great..."

. . .

True to her word, the trek inland is slow. Roman can tell Ciara's familiarity with the climate. The easily swipes a coconut from a high tree before the impending forest growth thickens with more tropical growth. The two take the better part of an hour to loose complete sight of the ocean.

The high canopy of the forest allows only thin rays of sunlight keeping a dull light around. The thick growth guarantees that even if a full moon would come, the night on this island would be nearly impossible to navigate. Given her estimates, they will likely need to arrive at the ruined town for shelter through the night.

Roman keeps a keen eye as the two halt at a creek stream. Hiding, his green eyes spot the black beast nearby. An Ursa huffing and chuffing as it drinks from the stream. Strange. He'd never seen a Grimm drink normal water-

He notices the pink hue in the stream.

Looking further upstream, he spots a dead husk of a normal bear. Currently, it gets eviscerated by the chomping of two more Ursa, a Beowolf stepping out from nearby bushes. He and Ciara share a glance, nodding to the left.

The next minute ticks as the duo stalks around in a circular path around wide.

Thus is the coming pattern of the next half hour...

Ciara is the first to break through a wood line, crouched low and disappearing. Roman moves after, but halts. His hard eyes pierce through the growth, finding Ciara's. Her hand is held up to signal, but he's already keen on the problem.

Twirling Velvet Valentine in hand, Roman snaps up...

The King Taijitu hanging in the trees above him hisses!

CRUNCH!

The pick spike shatters the bone white head plate, the impact killing the creature's brain! The Taijitu gurgles, black body slumping out of the tree canopy branches above. Roman pries the cane out of the beast, walking forward to Ciara's side of the growth.

She nods at the efficient blow. Thoroughly impressed.

Just a few passes more, and Roman's eyes widen.

They exit the green, met with only ashen black. He sucks in a breath. "What the..."

The upward slope of the land turns uneven, ceasing the altitude rise. Rock formations smoothed over covers miles. Ever slightly, Roman can tell that the blackened landscape is slowly slanting east. He eyes the ground, crouching and touching the ash rock.

"Igneous rock. Forms from eruptions." He looks at Ciara, grimacing. "You fail to mention something? Cause far as I can see, there isn't a volcano for this island from my viewpoint."

The pirate nods. "And you'd be right. It DID have a volcano. But, not after the island fell." She crosses her arms. "Something demolished the top of the volcano during the first Grimm horde attack. When the island fell." She shifts her stance, clearly suspicious. "The result was a lava slide scorching the land and at least part of the city of Cadavera."

He scowls at her. "Didn't destroy the chief's home, did it?"

Ciara smirks. "While making you pay me for the trip knowing it was pointless sounds fun... No, that section of the city should have been untouched. Maybe ash and soot contamination, but..." She shrugs. She begins walking ahead of him. "We can follow the black land to the ruins, seven miles."

Roman sighs. "Assuming we should stick near the wood line or Grimm will spot us." Ciara looks similarly unhappy. He scoffs, flippant. "Great."

. . .

Blair frowns at the findings thus far. The current scroll she examines uses a symbol awfully reminiscent of a hook. The Puwati tribe. Known for being trap hunters. According to Setante, they died off some 80 years ago. Married into a Kenora tribe on Isla Vallis. Damn.

Beside her are seventeen scrolls. The names vary: Orgo, Botamo, Menma, etc.

Yet, the ends of the lines all speak of the same fate by Setante's translation.

"Perished alongside seventeen other houses in the darkest night."

But she's found seventeen in total. The translation implies that eighteen house names perished in the Grimm attack. One is missing...

This means one of two things...

A. That the records are not well kept, and the eighteenth family is further back in the deceased names. This is what she is checking now. However, thus far the dates have not failed. They truly do appear to be in perfect collected order. That leaves...

B. That the record is incomplete. The eighteenth family scroll was removed a long time ago, and this is a pointless endeavor.

Thinking on Aline Zandril, such an action does seem in character of him. However, the worry that he would have pull over these official archives is worrisome when so many on these islands have shown so little distrusting qualities. It would mean that the wool was pulled over their eyes as well.

Needing to take a break, mostly to keep her eyes from bleeding, Blair sets the scrolls down and stretches. Near her, Setante raises a brow, sitting in his lotus position atop a stone carve out. "A break is in order I see." He smiles and stands.

"It will be short lived." Blair answers. "I'm perfectly willing to go on with this through the night, though..." She stops, recalling that she is the guest.

"I'm afraid come nightfall, I must request you return to town." Setante gives a stern look. "Scrolls won't disappear overnight. You may return tomorrow morning for it."

That realization dims Blair's mood further. She can't simply come forward with any accusations against the man. Not when he is appearing to work with her, at least. So, rather than look to the mystery at hand, how about her helper.

"Well, if we must call it a night soon, may I instead inquire about yourself?" Blair eyes the dog. "You appear quite young to find yourself leading four island cultures."

"Ha! You flatter me, but I am quite older than one would assume." He cheerfully responds before winking. "But I am currently thirty five. Not an old dog yet."

His jovial nature prompts a smile from her, the infectious nature working. She works over some thoughts. "That may be, but still the point stands. One would expect a great elder. Typically it is the gifted or specially talented who achieve such titles over their peoples."

Setante's eye falls upon her. "You mean like Professor Ozpin?"

The name instantly makes her frown, eyes cold. "What?"

He backs up with arms raised. Smiling, he answers. "You had asked if I worked with Atlas, so I have to assume your team works with another of the Academies. Haven and Shade have shaky relationships with Atlas, so you being bold enough to work without Atlas permission leaves Beacon." He shrugs.

Blair crosses her arms, but doesn't answer. Which, in itself, answers the affirmative.

He relaxes. "I've never had the pleasure of meeting the man. Heard he's mysterious in his administrative rolls. He that paranoid?"

Blair grumbles sarcastically. "Oh, you have no idea." At Setante's perking, she huffs. "Yes, I went to Beacon. Ozpin is an enigma at the best of times, and secretive at the worst."

"Those are the men who most shape the world in my view." Setante walks out with Blair towards the temple entrance. "Mindful and ambitious. They earn the utmost respect from me."

"So you would classify as that, yourself?"

He laughs and waves her off. "Not at all. I am merely persistent. I would be nowhere without mindful companions."

"I don't buy that for a second. A semblance like yours is built entirely around awareness." Blair eyes him with a raised brow. "Your detection range far exceeds my own. You've realized that, right?"

The man smirks. "Yes... I had quite the fight or flight when I sensed you. I've trained sensory semblances with Atlas before, but yours might be the closest semblance to my own in that function." He then adds. "Besides, what sort of guard dog would I be if I couldn't sniff out visitors?"

"Well... My semblance goes well beyond simple detection." Blair adds. Sobering further, she asks. "And, would I be correct in that for you as well?"

Setante's smirk turns cocky. Eager. Thirsty. "Perhaps a spar then? We can test that fact." The two stop in the center of the outdoor sanctum. Blair and he lock gazes as the dog flashes a toothy grin. "Tell you what... for my further cooperation, a quick spar." His weapon twirls in hand as he widens his stance. "Please. First to connect our semblance to the other shall claim victory."

Blair tenses. Judging by his stature, he's certainly a warrior. His stance is expertly taken. She slowly draws Fluorescent, gliding into her kendo stance. "Very well... On one condition." She cuts a glare at him. "The one to win gains one free question, free of any restricted answer. It must be answered honestly, fully, with no reservations."

The gauntlet set, Setante's eyes gleam. One foot back, other forward, he points his spear forward ready.

Blair nods.

A pregnant pause hangs as the two warriors maintain their positions. All until a light gust brushes the temple stone.

Blair strikes her weapon up, the back of her sword throwing the spear head high! In the blink of an eye, Blair closes in!

It's simple. She predicts the man to defend and block her sword, which will allow her off hand to grab her sheath. Using the prongs, she can inject her semblance into him with her aura past his aura shield, AND gain a portion of blood to investigate his semblance later.

Then she's simply demand whether he's associated with AZRL...

But that does not happen.

Instead, her full swing strike of the sword lands squarely on the man's open torso, crashing into hos aura shield! His aura shield pulses in red... the man smiling. Sparking red pulses out!

Blair's senses feel out his aura as... it spreads over her.

"And match." Setante calls with a smile, Blair's sword blade still against his pectoral muscle. The two are frozen. "I win."

He's right.

Blair's aura warps, the foreign presence making itself known in her with a twist in her gut. She chokes on a breath, eyes wide as she stumbles back! Suddenly, her semblance fights the foreign entity! The violet haze washes over herself as a spark of crimson comes to life before getting stamped out!

The purifying action makes the man's face light up. "Impressive!"

Blair takes a step back, wary. "Explain how!" A slight panic in her voice. "My semblance requires direct injection through aura. My aura shield never strained. How did yours pierce it?"

The man simply smiles. "It didn't." With no elaboration, he settles back, relaxed. "But, I have my question for you then. Shall I?"

The blonde gulps and nods. "Very well... Go ahead."

Nodding respectfully, he simply pries. "Is Aura the manifestation of the mortal soul?"

"..." Blair blinks at him, confused at the topic.

. . .

Roman and Ciara spot blackened structures in the distance. Sunset fills the background. Perhaps only half an hour left of good light. The blackened rock begins to give to broken asphalt, ruined roads. Upon doing so... they also find the ashen sculptures. Bodies of humans, decades over burnt and scorched into ash statues in the streets.

Ciara sobers at the sight, but remains calm. Seeing Roman's unnerved look, she sighs. "We don't know what happened. Not in full." She starts. "Word is, a ship from the main land arrived. By sea, not air. And it arrived to the islands. One by one, each island was presented with gifts. Promises of fortune in exchange for... well, the tale isn't clear. Just for something in exchange."

The two walk the black streets, their footprints cracking the caked hardened crust of decades old ash and rock frosted on the surfaces. The surfaces that lava itself didn't touch. A true scorched earth.

"Each chief said the same thing to the offer. 'The only gift we appreciate is brotherhood.' The tribes were very peaceful after the four island cultures unified. Two faunus peoples and two human peoples were united. We didn't appreciate materialism much at the time." The blonde holds a hand up for Roman to halt.

The two crouch by a mound of rubble. Peering over, they spot a pack of seven Ursa of varying size. The family of monsters ventures into a burrow in the ruins of what could be a domestic home. A makeshift bear den. Soon as all seven disappear in the darkness, the two move between cover to cover.

Crossing to a shell of a ruined house, the two settle in cover. Ciara continues. "A message was left. An omen that brotherhood of flesh only remains as flesh... The visitors left this island, and a shift in the winds foretold disaster... Weeks after, a storm rolled in. Light ceased in the sky, blocked by black clouds."

They move from house to house, moving along some brittle metal structures as well. With the light remaining outside, Roman can spot Creeps and Beowolves in some of the structures.

This place is awfully reminiscent of Mountain Glenn...

Stopping at another spot of cover, Ciara looks off to the missing mountain, the sea of black rock. "The only light the tribes saw was the burning flash of red in the night. The storm couldn't blot out the explosive fire on Cadavera. Emergency ships from Candidus and Portus dispatched immediately, but... Grimm erupted from the waters at them. Half of them didn't make it, including my great grandfather."

Roman cocks his head at that. She obviously didn't care about a relative that died three generations before her, but it was the questioning. The mystery of the cause. He could see her trying to piece it together. "Grimm hordes are able to be tracked." He states. "They get reported, and Hunters come and exterminate them. Sure, it often gets bloody, but how did you lot not see it coming? Did the Kingdoms seriously just not bother to notify your people?"

Ciara shrugs. "Relief came quickly. Atlas closed off the island. I'm told mortar shells sounded for two days. Vacuo smuggled some supplies. Mistral offered shelter to anyone that needed it, though that never came up again... No one survived the attack on Isla Cadavera. Not a single soul... according to some Hunters from Vale apparently sent by their Headmaster... Osborne at the time?" She ends in the slight error of detail.

"Regardless, it was the Hunters that let tale of the female figure in the flames reach our ear. Though, any attempts to garner further information failed. No record of it officially. Just the notions of omens from our elders." She finishes.

The two reach the second level of the metal structure, using the slight high perch to view a cratered hole center of the ruined town. Roman grimaces finding a darker black in the center... Even more so when slowly a Beowolf slinks its way out from seemingly nothing...

Grimm pool...

"That could be an issue." He utters. "But could doesn't mean is. Where's the damned chief house?"

Shifting after Ciara, the two duck out a hole on the off side of the building. They crouch run through mounds of rubble before a cracking of rock stops them.

Directly between them, a Beowolf steps out unwittingly! It sniffs and catches sight of them in a jerk! It snarls-

Ciara's blades skewer the beast's head and throat from the side. Roman cracks it in the jaw, throwing it back dead. However, just that subtle notion urges a surge of hisses and snarls in the distance. Ciara snaps a look at him. "Shit."

The two burst into a sprint. Moving in close crowded paths in the ruins for cover, the two check each corner. As they move, the scorched black and broken city begins to break into a simple ghost town. An Ursa lurches out from the side, pouncing on Ciara!

The pirate sucks in a gasp, using her whips to tangle and hook its mouth to keep from chomping her! Before she acts further, Roman running kicks the bear over. The man allows Ciara to get up from the ground as more Grimm begin to surge in.

… Judging by the sounds, they can expect several dozens to come upon them soon.

Roman scoffs. "We really don't have the time..." He spots a drainage opening in the ruined roads... Still functioning with a light trail of water draining down underground.

Draining underground is good. That means there is space underground... The sewer still intact?

The conman has little time. He pops out the earth dust can given to him by Blair earlier. Crunching the dust container in one hand, Roman channels his aura for as large a cast as he can muster! He even channels his semblance to further ignite the dust with a spark of flame.

Just a bigger bang for his buck, right?

Too right.

BOOM!

The entire street erupts in a massive spiking plume of debris and shattered earth! The blast obscures the area, shrouding the Grimm in a cloud!

When it clears, the remaining Grimm look around as the new disheveled landscape. No humans... Nearby, a hole shows leading into the sewers...

Coughing sounds out in the old decrepit sewers of town of Cadavera, as well as the stomping of a quick run. Ciara hacks up a lung full of dirt. "That was quick- ACK! HACK!" She spits out a dirty drip of saliva. "Thinking! Shit! But, you could have warned me before I got a mouth full!"

Roman smirks. "The second time I've heard that today." He huffs a laugh as she glowers at him.

"Don't threaten me with a good time." She grumbles angrily. The two take a left turn. "Now, this should lead to the clearer areas of the city! Follow me."

. . .

Blair recover some modicum of control, nodding. "Is aura the manifestation of the mortal soul..?" She pauses looking off at the dog faunus. "That's not exactly a settled science, so I cannot answer it fully without relying solely on a spiritual answer. Those tend to be flawed."

Setante's smile widens. "Nonsense. Science is the body of the world, required for the state of being. Meanwhile, the spiritual exists as an aspect of the mind, informing our understanding and drive for further investigation. If the two ever conflict, one must be misunderstood." He joyfully explains. "So, Miss Blair, what is your understanding?"

She frowns at the insistence for an answer. Mulling over her knowledge before answering. The Soul Servo experiment, according to Roman, was geared towards answering this exact question. However, such proves her answer.

"No. Aura can exist separate of a person's existence." Blair answers confidently. Interestingly, she sees Setante's smile dim. "Aura restores and limits based on the physical. If tied to the physical body, I cannot agree with the notion that aura is inherently tied to the existence of the soul or essence of spirituality."

Answer given, Blair adds with a nod. "Is this satisfactory?"

The man grunts, shaking his head to himself. "An understandable view to the uninitiated. Is only a tad disappointing coming from someone with a semblance so close to my own."

The insinuation that she should automatically believe him brings out a scoff. "While I am open to new evidence, I cannot in good conscious take that leap of faith."

"And you've never found yourself connecting to someone well above and beyond a base notion of extended senses?" The faunus counters.

Immediately, her mind flashes to Carmine. When she mixed her aura with her semblance into him at Mountain Glenn. She'd been directly tied into his subconscious, even. Still, she was grounded by her own self. It wasn't as if her spirit or whatever one calls it followed the boy... Was it?

Without answering, Blair gathers herself and turns to leave. "I shall return tomorrow to continue."

Setante smirks again. "Very well. Ponder on what I've said. I trust you will see things my way." He watches her walk until she halts at the temple entrance. "Hmm? Is something the matter?"

The blonde turns back. "How did your aura enter mind without my shield rejecting yours? Auras accepting one another through interaction is incredibly rare."

A mischievous smile comes on. "You are the scientist. Evaluate your evidence, and you will find an answer."

She glares back, but says nothing as she leaves.

A short distance down from the temple, Blair's left arm tenses. Her senses focus on her body. Her violet aura pulses as she feels out her aura... Holding her arm out, she growls low...

A violet haze washes over her palm before in the center, a red spark comes to life. Isolated. Preserved. Blair focuses her full power to condense and contain the ever small sliver of aura belonging to the faunus. She feels even more confident in her earlier answer.

If the aura represented the soul, he would intuitively know she now held a piece of his soul. Such nonsense. It is simply aura. Evidence of physicality.

And like any physical evidence, she plans to dissect it.

. . .

A crusted over man hole cracks down the middle, brittle. One half pops up, opening a hole to above ground. The other half cracks apart to dust onto the black bowler hat and into the decrepit sewer system. Roman peers out from the opening, scanning the area for Grimm.

Coast is clear.

He looks down, spotting Ciara prying a blade from a spider Grimm corpse. The two only encountered a few sparse insectoid Grimm in the underground. She sighs and looks up. "We clear?"

"Clear." Roman climbs out from the opening into the dirt covered street. This section of city is far more intact... comparatively speaking. Broken glass and windows litter about. Holes show in the buildings, barely any doors remain.

Still, at least the structures have clearly defined walls and roofs.

Ciara steps out, sighing. "Finally, a break from the monsters." She looks up to the near night sky, twilight above. "We should be within a mile of it. Come on." The two continue on down the streets. Low and quick, out of sight and out of mind.

At the very least, Roman can make out the architecture now. The structures of the village favor slanted and pointed roofs, buildings with a wide first floor, then a second floor with mismatched, smaller above levels. The buildings loosely resemble upside down cones, or tent huts. Though, they at least had grasped metal support and competent wood construction. They weren't that far behind the mainland's technology for the time, it seems.

Any posts or markers of locations were done on arches and towers constructed of wooden animal tiki heads. However, unlike Candidus's public arts, over half of these were also modeled for bones. Sculpted skulls for the tikis.

One particular set of arches are toppled by a stone carved wall. Cracked sections of the stone show claw marks and signs of impacts. Of Grimm. Ciara and Roman slow to a walk through, keeping eyes out for Grimm.

Ciara catches a fresh track going back towards the molten sections of the city. "Seems our little greeting with the Grimm pulled any that were around here back to center town." She shrugs at the man. "Luck for us. Eh?"

Roman scoffs. "Create our own." He looks ahead. "This is?"

"Mhm." She comments, presenting to him a darker building that stands mostly untouched... save for a single scorched mark on the second level of the structure. A thin sideways eye surrounded by what looks like a mark compass. However, the bottom of the compass circle opens out with streaks of scorched wood drawing down to the main front door.

Ciara pauses, staring on at the symbol. Catching on, Roman speaks up. "I'm assuming that's not supposed to be there."

"No." She shakes her head. "The symbol of the Cadavera chief was the symbol of the isle. Just a skull. This." She points to the eye. "This isn't a symbol I recognize at all."

Bad sign.

The two march up to the door... It's locked? Roman and Ciara share a look of skepticism. "Hmph. Alright." Roman pulls a pin out and proceeds to pick the over half century old simple lock built into the door. A click and the door opens.

The inside is dusted over. Though, not nearly as much as Roman would expect. If anything, it appeared abandoned maybe a decade at best. Not SIX! Stepping inside, its a foyer with several stands showcasing trophies and exotic tools.

A crunch pulls attention as they step.

Broken tools and glass on the floor. A couple of the shelves are shattered.

"That settles it. Someone's been checking the place." Roman hums, stepping in. "Nothing recent, but people have definitely been skulking around."

"No signs of Grimm roving through the house. Kind of hard to believe that for sixty years." Ciara adds. "Too hard to believe. How the hell does that happen?" She looks to Roman. "You work and screw with the Hunter, right?"

Roman huffs. "From what I've picked up from her... that doesn't make sense." Roman keeps a look out, spotting at least a few puncture holes in the walls. He feels them as he peers closer... Too clean. "Marks left by tools, but clearly a struggle. A scrap took place in here."

"Must have been some petty looters cheating one another once upon a time." Ciara wonders.

The two look about at the... still well occupied room. "And left everything else?" Roman scowls. "This wasn't looters. Can't be from the Atlas or Vale support crews, either. If they found this place, they would at least salvage from of these artifacts, right?" He peers closer to one particular ornament. A relic of a canine skull with symbols etched into it. "Well... unless they're all just garbage."

"To anyone outside the islands, sure. But, I know some blowhards in the tribes that would pay fortunes for these."

That just makes even less sense. "So... you're telling me that tons of things that looters would make money off ON TOP of items that could buy good will with the kingdoms were just... ignored?" He looks incredulous at her before sighing. "I hate mysteries. AZRL broke me for them."

"Meaning that whoever arrived here last wasn't affiliated with anyone we know..." Ciara glances over with a raised brow. "This... AZRL group?"

Roman grumbles. "Maybe, but the fat bastard is far too... possessive." He glances about. The two venture through the first level, finding an iron door with a large skull etched into it. The skull was eerily similar to the AZRL symbol, though was far more detailed. Less rounded and emblem looking. It was almost etched photo realistic.

But still with no jaw or bottom row of teeth.

"Symbol of the island chief." Ciara attests. "The position, though it also gets associated with families that hold those positions for multiple generations." She crouches at the door, looking for any sort of handle. The crease in the middle of the plating certainly notes a door. "No obvious traps, but nothing to pull with." She tests the door with a push, but finds it impossible to budge!

Roman eyes around the room. A small wall hanging shelf shows several parchment wrapped scrolls. There's a wall sconce far too old. Eh. Screw it. Roman bats the dust and cobwebs off the piece before finding a wick in a piece. A quick flick of his semblance, and the object burns bright to bathe the room in light.

Ciara raises a brow. "I forgot about that parlor trick." She huffs. "Maybe spread some semblances for everyone else to use."

"Tch! Don't hate because I was good enough to find mine." He smirks as he leans on his cane. Looking around, there has to be... "Ah, the light saves the day."

A section of the wall is a false surface. Roman paws around it, feeling its dimensions. Pressing, the false square of wall shifts slightly, revealing a long three foot long, one foot wide cut out. Tossing the piece aside, he evaluates the hidden clue with a frown.

Dials. Large, thick, iron dials etched with markers on each notched surface.

"Well... this just looks lovely." He looks to Ciara. "This what I think it is?"

Ciara peers at the symbols. "They're markers for numbers. The native languages used a base seven code for numbering."

Roman cocks his head. "Oh, you have to be-" He shakes his head. "That'll give me a migraine."

In base numbering for most the world, one uses the base 10 system. 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9. Then, one further loops the digits around starting with 10, then progressing for each the two digits before adding a third.

Which is what makes the conman unhappy.

Base seven means starting with 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6. Then looping to make the new digits, starting with 10... which 10 in this case translates to 7 in normal numbering...

Ciara shrugs. "Come on. Think of it as a fun coding experience. I remember Mark pissing off the captain trying to explain how to write 29 in binary on a birthday cake."

Roman tests turning the dials, glad that they appear to function. He resets them back in the position they found. "Well, what do you figure is the code?"

"Beats me." She gives.

With a heavy sigh, Roman looks to the scrolls. "Well, translate what those mean. They could be useful."

Ciara sighs. "Slave driver, aren't ya?" She sits down and begins reading the parchments, looking to him. "Try scouting the rest of the building for more. Could be something obvious."

He nods and moves to explore the second floor.

. . .

Blair arrives back in the team's chosen hotel. Her posture is stiff, but nothing more so than her rigid left arm. The entire path down the mountain to town, the woman kept her focus intensely honed on one thing. This last tiny spark of Setante's aura that managed to so easily seep into her, resulting in her sparring loss.

Connecting auras allows glimpses into ones psyche, but aura that's been sufficiently isolated no longer connects to the active conscious. After all, Makara and the Soul Servo stand as example to that. But that also entails what this aura COULD have: Memories.

Going off Roman's description of Near's, or Stein's, audio logs, even just a little aura can restore memories of someone with Makara's condition. Granted, it's her that is regaining those memories, but that occurred after physical degradation of faculties. The memories, at least from description, came WITH the aura.

A quick flash of Setante's query comes to mind, but she shakes it away. Though, that reminds her of a concern.

Could he have detected her isolating his aura? If his semblance operates like her own, her sensory 'radar' relies on pinging off another aura and bouncing back. Like sonar. Even inside a person, her aura pings back, providing the feedback loop for her to run rampant in their aura. Control. However, if she has his aura isolated, it shouldn't be capable of pinging back.

Like the aura in the Soul Servo, it should remain disconnected.

Sitting down, Blair eyes her palm, the sparking red obscured by her semblance's dark haze. How to direct any memories she finds? She dwells back on her power ripping information out of Jayce back at Malum... Her intent direct towards AZRL.

Doing the same, Blair closes her eyes to concentrate. Direct the thoughts...

"We're looking for Aline Zandril..." She murmurs aloud.

. . .

"Here's more." Roman places more wrapped scrolls neatly stacked in the corner. Ciara spares a dull look. It's pitch black outside now, so Roman took the tine to drape extra clothes and coverings over any gaps or windows in the decrepit construction. "That's the last of the loot."

Ciara smirks. "I'm sure you didn't take anything else that looked valuable." The sarcasm drips until she frowns back to the scrolls. "Each symbol denotes concepts rather than easily translatable words or phrases. It can get jarring seeing how the same symbol can translate differently when paired in combinations."

Disinterested, Roman leans on the wall. "Absolutely fascinating. What exactly are all these scrolls anyway?" He points to a smaller pile of discarded scrolls in the opposite corner.

"Passages." Ciara remarks. "Old scribe versions of spoken stories mostly, buy every scroll notes a tale. It's own journey, or odyssey. Every one ends with symbolic passages that summarize the meaning behind the tale."

Roman raises a brow. "Are these... numbered in any way?"

"Yeah, most are. Though, the numbers they provide are in the Base 7 model." She looks to the scroll in hand. "This one is 24-26-14. Though, in Base 10, that's 18-20-11."

Roman snaps a glare. "There a general theme across them all?" Ciara gives him an off look, confused. "Like death? I would assume that as an overarching theme relating to the afterlife on an island like this."

The woman nods. "In a sense. Most reference death with a general morality of acceptance of fate, but also punishment to wrongdoings. It slides right into the other island ideals around inner peace. To make the soul balanced."

"Or sound." Roman murmurs. His eyes close in thought. "Damn it... I think I've seen this code before..." He looks over the scrolls. "It's going to be from one of the passages." He kneels by her. "Show me the symbols for the numbers. I'll try and look for find the right number, you translate to double check."

The pirate looks surprised, but nods. "Aye aye, Captain."

He halts a moment, grimacing. "Captain Roman would not be a pleasant thought. I can't tolerate pirate hats."

She chuckles. "Of course, THAT'S your complaint, City Boy."

Digging through the scrolls, Roman quickly learns the base symbols for the numbers. As he finds scrolls, he hands any with seven number digits to Ciara to read aloud. He's looking for the sound bite. That one line...

Stein's lab.

Hmm... Story of a great shaman? No. A story of rebirth? No. A grand hunter illustrating the value of death to living life. Interesting, but no.

Roman groans as he looks to the dwindling scroll pile. They'd been at it for nearly an hour. Yet, he opens another parchment as Ciara reads out loud.

"-in our actions of life, we pass achievement and prosperity for those behind to achieve greater feats. With clear direction, we lessen our detours. With disciplined form, we increase our efforts. Through both body and mind, do we ascend higher. For the Brothers look with interest upon those whose greatness shapes destiny. Through enlightenment, one may even gain life beyond. Of sound body and mind, even death becomes adventure, evermore."

The man sucks in a breath. He drops the paper in hand and looks to Ciara. She notices and stops. "Catch your ear?"

Roman marches over, looking to the parchment. "What's the number?" He finds the numbers and hums to himself. Immediately, he marches to the dials on the wall, turning them with loud deep clicks.

Finally finishing, Roman steps back.

Click

The two share a glance before looking to the door. Ciara hums. "An adventure with death to open the door. Fitting." She glances to Roman. "How did you know?"

"The man who directed us to these islands gave me that number code to access AZRL's main doctor's lab." Roman explains. "I didn't know the full context of it, but the password program back then begged a question about passages. The last line was the hint. The password our associate gave for me was 42-42-564."

Ciara smirks. "A cute code to knock on death's door." She begins walking forward. "Though, more based on experience and memory than the wit I was expecting."

"Well, I'm sorry. Maybe the next mystery can be a moment to impress you." Roman retorts with a snort. The two push through the door, pressing down into a dark, black stairwell. Stone in matter. They march down together, Ciara quickly ripping one of the lit sconces off the wall to light the way like a lantern.

As the stairs spiral down, the two notice small hollows acting as stands for bone constructed figures. Bones matched from birds, reptiles, canines, and more are mixed and swapped for intricate models. Interesting, but clearly only décor.

Along the way, Roman continues to use his semblance to light new sconces made from hollowed animal horns placed along the walls. Ten feet down. Twenty. Forty. Ciara huffs a cold breath, air visible. The temperature was dipping drastically well below freezing.

"Got a bad feeling in the air." Ciara whispers. The two slow their pace. "Inner chambers like these don't come up often."

"You think your chiefs would trap their own lairs?"

"Well, no." Ciara pouts, but her eyes remain concerned. "But a place that's been tampered with since the chief's death? I look for everything."

"Glad we agree." Roman nods. Something is prickling at his spine, and he can't spot out what it is.

The path finally opens up. A large dark room. Mostly stone, with small stations of wood construction. But, too dark to make out fully. Roman spots more of the wall hanging horn sconces. With a flick snap of his finger, he ignites one at another. The cobwebs spark and vaporize with the lighting of the wicks.

Illumination comes-

Ciara and Roman suck in breathes, taking steps back...

A wide ritualistic setup with bone pillars stand in a semicircle. Within the circle is a stand of blackened red... a pool long since dried. The stain trails to the wall and up... from the decayed dry skeleton pinned to the stone. The skeleton is spiked through the rib cage and held up against the wall, tribal decayed fur sagged off it. A small puncture shows in the skull as well.

Calming, Roman frowns. "Well... If I was a betting man, I'd take a guess who that is."

Ciara peers around him, finding a tiki sculpted into a skull on the skeleton's necklace. Dangling still six decades later. "That's the former chief." Stepping further into the room, she looks about wide eyed. "This is a ceremonial chamber... for the active chief's archives or... for performing specific rituals." She shakes her head, chilled. "But... he died in here?! How was the door locked if Grimm entered? Why would Grimm pin him without consuming him?"

"Easy..." Roman steps and places a hand on the woman's shoulder, earning a flinch. "I didn't take you for the sentimental type."

The two hold a stare as her breathing comes under control. She shrugs him off. "I'm not. But, being educated for my whole life that what happened was ominous or an event that couldn't be contained..." She raises a hand to point at the ritualistic evidence of murder. "But that looks pretty damn deliberate. Grimm don't do deliberate! Supposed to be mindless monsters of instinct."

"You're right." He agrees, holding a hard stare. "Which is why you need to pull up those stockings and stop freaking out." Roman scowls at the room around him. "This room shared a password with AZRL, so something in here most definitely belongs to Aline Zandril. Something here matters, and I'm finding it."

Roman looks around, spotting something odd when his eyes leave the pinned skeleton on the wall. Ciara perks and follows the gaze. "What... the..?"

The far wall is etched with a substance emitting a soft reflective purple. The light of the lit sconces bounces off the material, as if it's glass embedded into stone. The purple indented markings shimmer under the light as Roman approaches. "It's writing."

"Not our symbol language." Ciara murmurs, scrutinizing it. She narrows her gaze. "Wait, it's normal basic. Just a strange archaic font." She reads closer. "Numbers. Staggered in spots."

"It's coded." Roman groans. At Ciara's perking, he responds with a grimace. "You wanted wit for these? Well, here it is. A number to letter A1Z26 cipher. I can tell by the spacing." At her raised brow, he shrugs. "Senior used to use coded messages for his men." He then scowls. "But even doing that, a lot of the words I'm getting aren't right, so I'm assuming the number cipher only leads to another cipher."

Ciara groans. "So, we have ciphers on top of ciphers. Great..."

Behind them, the skeleton shifts ever slightly...

"Probably more." Roman scowls. "But, all we can do is decipher it and-"

Crack

Roman twists in a flash! He pushes Ciara aside as a rock spike flies between them. It jabs into a wooden shelf, embedded into place! Both the conman and pirate turn to face the skeleton!

It crackles as it steps out. No longer impaled against the wall, the skeleton moves on its own in stiff, gangly movements. Its bones rattle as its arm digs into one of the bone pillars... pulling back and removing a large club arm made of bones.

"AH what?!" Ciara jolts back.

Roman feels his skin crawl. This also feels... familiar. Adding nonliving matter to a limb-

His eyes widen. Just like the Nelo or Imp.

The skeleton's skull is warped on the left side. Another skull plate is morphed onto it, a smooth rounded surface... red glowing veins converge on a single eye opening of red with a yellow pupil. Its torso fills in slightly with thick black, but not fully. Roman twitches. "It's a Geist."

Ciara spares a glance. "Fun...Never saw one before."

"Neither have I." He says honestly. Ciara jolts and tenses, clearly unhappy with his admission. A rumble sounds above. Their eyes trail to the ceiling. "Gotta kill it fast!"

Ciara removes her whips and lashes out, the sword blades on the ends cracking at the skeletal possession. The Geist contorts the club arm, the blades sticking in with twin cracks! It wrenches back, but Roman grabs Ciara by her jacket, keeping her back, whips pulled taut.

The Geist skeleton rattles before twisting at the spine. The beast reels the whip in, dragging the two humans closer. As it pulls them closer, the whip line starting to coil around the ribs. The woman is pulled out of Roman's grip, drawing her rapidly in as the skeleton's left regular hand catches her by the throat.

"Shit!" Roman pops a fire dust shell from his ammo drum, cracking it in hand. Charging head on, he shouts. "Pull left!"

Ciara, still gripped, kicks the skeleton's leg out, gaining leverage. She jerks to her left, putting the skeleton's club arm away from the charging conman. Roman casts the fire dust in a palm strike, landing a flaming impact on the monster's shoulder!

The left arm explodes off, the Geist stumbling back. Both Ciara's whips jerk away from her grip at the shock movement. The beast's torso twists around with the momentum to swing the massive bone club around. Roman twirls Velvet Valentine to parry the large arm up.

Like a smooth boxer, Roman keeps his feet balanced as he ducks and weaves around club swings. As he dodges, he manipulates his cane for balance with a lean, a twirl with a parry, and a counter swing to crack the Geist back.

Ciara looks to the flailing whips whirling about at the monster's erratic movements. "Get it to stop!"

Roman huffs, shifting Velvet to gun mode and aiming! The Geist uses its bone club arm to block. Roman unleashes a stream of fire dust shots to explode on the beast. Piercing explosions sound off the walls! Bright flashes of flame chip and blow away the bone club arm as the Geist blocks.

The woman's weapons crack free from the vaporizing club arm. Ciara snatches the grips out of the air, lashing the whips to crack slash the skeleton in half. However, as the bottom half crumples on the ground, the torso of the skeleton hovers in place as the Geist mask turns to glance at her.

Suddenly, all the scattered debris around the room begins to rattle...

Roman glances down to see chips of bone and wood slowly slide and pull in... It needs more mass. Well, he decides to test that. He shouts out. "Pick a support pillar and keep it up!" He removes the gravity dust from his pocket given by Blair, clenching it.

The Geist releases a scraping shriek as materials start to float in towards it, but Roman is faster. In retaliation, the Grimm manipulates a collection of bone pieces molding in the left arm to attempt blocking.

Yet, Roman's clenched fist smashes through the ill molded arm and cracks into the skeleton rib cage. Into the black Grimm mass inside... He casts the gravity dust. The warped skull turns, Grimm eye peering directly into Romans as a pulse of dark black and violet warps from his fist.

A shriek rings their ears!

Intense force pulls inward onto the Grimm, shifting the contents of the entire room!

Ciara looks to the primary bone and wood support as it creaks and whines to bend. Shifting to the other side, she lashes the whips around it at the points of stress. Digging her feet in, she drags back to counter the pulling dust force! The Geist looses a shriek in Roman's face as the gravity dust channeled inside its host rib cage crushes inward.

Rrk-!

A crunch sounds. The bones of the skeleton skull and ribs suck in and shred the black mass and white mask of the Geist. The hosting form bursts from the implosion, clattering on the ground in front of Roman in particles and bone chips.

The room goes quiet, ears still ringing, as Roman sighs and calms. "Getting tired of playing Hunter." He glances over to Ciara as she pulls her whips free of the primary support pillar. "Well then? Are we going to get crushed?"

Ciara eases back and inspects the stone ceiling. "Hmm... Think so." She growls low. "Why the hell was that thing down here?"

Roman scowls at the ritual area where the skeleton had been first pinned. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "We didn't inspect the thing's face close enough. There's no Grimm pool." He scowls off at nothing in particular. "That thing was put down here just for people like us."

"Well then, where's this Zandro bastard? I wanna have a polite chat with using him as a sock puppet." The blonde growls out annoyed. "A Geist? Seriously?! I've never heard of one of those in the Grimm trade."

The room flickers. In the midst of the fight, all but one sconce was left intact and lit. Now dying.

Roman grimaces. "Well... Looks like we're gonna be on a time table for light." He removes the last dust vial given by Blair, the white dust. Casting it, the vial beams out light like a bright lantern. "Search the other debris... I got a code to decipher." He turns and glares at the wall covered in the purple lettering.

. . .

Years ago...

Eyes open. Light pierces the gaze before slowly focusing the vision on a blue sky. The eyes owner rises from sand, feeling around before stretching, popping bones and getting slumber out of their eyes. His eyes. Masculine arms push up, the man... boy?.. looks over the great sea before them, standing on a beach.

Waves wash at his feet, tickling his toes. The male is bare foot, shirtless,wearing only dark pants cut off at the calves. A spear is impaled into the sand with a carrying rope strap hooked in. The male loops the strap to their shoulder and begins stretching.

They look to the sun, hand raising to block it. Evaluating the time based on the sun' position. Sunset ahead, closing on the horizon. A refreshing nap. The male hums satisfied as his stomach growls.

"Hmm... Dinner should be ready..." A youthful voice groans. Deep from slumber, but definitely young.

The boy turns to the forest behind him, but stops. "Huh?" He looks to the distance, a port in the distance. "A boat?" Indeed, a ship is docked at the village off in the distance. "One of the other tribes." The boy scoffs. "Needing more shipments. If they skirt us on pelts again, I swear..."

He continues to grumble to himself as he marches into the woods. As he moves, a black feather falls from his head... He's a faunus. A bird faunus.

He marches through the forest as darkness begins to set in place. Full night as he marches across the island. The time passes until he pauses in the jungle... His attention looks to the shadow...

A growl. A Beowolf lashes out from the bushes at the young man. With a blink of an eye, the man weaves to the side, to dodge, the spear whirling around his shoulder at the strap before catching it. As the beast charges, the young man thrusts, skewering the beast off its feet! The boy pins it to a tree and waits for its whines to die with its breath.

Pulling his weapon out, he eyes the beast for any movement before keeping an eye out. He takes a steady step before hearing the stick crack. In a whirl, he swings the spear to slash its tip into another Beowolf's face! The beast is knocks aside with a squeal, but a third Grimm rushes from the other side.

The boy bashes the third with the pole end of the spear, twirling the weapon as he leaps up! With a flip, he lances down, impaling the spear down like planting a flag directly into the snout of the second Beowolf as it stands.

Twisting the spear with a crunch, the second beast under his feet ceases struggle while the third snarls at him. It charges, so he uses the pinned spear as leverage to jump kick the beast back! Pulling his weapon with him, he begins a series of rapid jabs. Thrusting his weapon with his right back hand and controlling its angle with his left.

The Beowolf backs up on its hind legs thrashing in a vain attempt to deflect the thrusts. The spear head impales the beast and pulls out before it can attack the haft. Each missed swipe is rewarded with another stab into its black flesh. More and more black blood stains the ground until it finally falls to all fours in a stagger.

It lurches forward, but halts as the man keeps the spear up. At threat. With a gurgle, it tries anyway, only to meet a spear head in the threat. The man rips the blade from the beast, leaving it to collapse and flail, bleeding to death. The man twirls his spear and smirks before leaving.

A short time later, and the man begins to arrive at a hut in the forest. Smiling, he sees his home. To describe it as a hut may be dishonest, as it is LARGE. Large enough to spot it from the next hill, for its scent of food to meet him.

As he approaches... he hears more cracks. He frowns. More? This is a touch of annoyance. Still, the young man twirls his spear at the ready. Directly ahead.

"Hmph! Simple monsters. Hadn't had enough for one day?" He smirks.

Soundlessly, he shifts his grip of the spear to a javelin throw grip. With zero hesitation, he flawlessly snaps the spear through the brush! The sinking of steel into flesh sounds in a slosh. Direct hit!

"Ark-!" A high pitch squeal sounds...

That didn't sound like a Grimm... or even an animal native to the islands.

The boy blinks in shock as he rushes through the bush. He looks in confusion to find a hound. A dog. A great large hunting hound! Hounds like this come only from the mainland-

"Setante!"

The bird faunus looks up in shock to find his father. A man twenty years his senior with a touch of gray in his raven feather hairs. The man sees the dog, snapping his jaw shut. He's adorned in tattoos and bead jewelry, noting his status as Chief of Isla Portus.

A grim look. "That was our guest's prize guard dog!"

The bird boy, now identified as Setante, looks with wide eyes. "I... There were Beowolves throughout the forest. I-... I thought it was another." He snaps his jaw shut. "I... I'll make it up to them. Where is..?"

Behind his father, another person steps out. A young man. No, a pre-teen even. He has pale skin and fairly covered tunic. The small boy's wide violet eyes lock on the animal. The small sub 4 foot child clams up, tense.

Setante's father sighs, holding his hand out to present the younger boy to his son. "Setante... this is Aline. Son of Isla Cadavera's Chief. He's staying with us tonight after delivering news about the black ship." His father grimaces. "And that was his companion."

Setante sucks in a breath, locking eyes on the boy of same status as himself. "I am..." He grimaces and stops. Apologizing means little after slaughtering the boy's companion. He looks to his father with a look of determination.

And so, he knees, spear up at his side. Remorse writes on his face. "I am Setante, son of the Chief of Isla Portus. Our tribe's greatest warrior and guardian of the islands." He looks to the boy, determination and regret set. "I killed your companion in error... so please. Allow me to make it up to you. I will act in its stead... until another replacement you find."

The boy remains, frown firmly in place, but discipline showing. He eases and nods. The boy's violet eyes close as he collects himself, then open with clarity. He has blonde hair to his chin, three parallel black stripes run in his hair, each stripe perpendicular to the hair's actual growth, as if the hairs grow until aging black then back to blonde at certain lengths.

"Hello. I am Aline, son of the Chief of Isla Cadavera. Our tribe's future architect." The boy forces a smile. It looks badly forced. Face strained. "I look forward to your service."

. . .

Present.

Blair's tense arm releases, her aura control snapping as the red aura captured from Setante dissipates away to nothing. The blonde stares at the wall, in shock.

It's pitch black outside the hotel room... She's spent hours focusing on that small memory.

She got her answer... in exchange for a thousand more questions.

. . .

Roman stares hard at the writings on the wall. In his hand is a parchment he's been writing away on. A stern gaze remains as Ciara comes next to him. "Did you manage to translate it?" She sighs as she sets some scraps aside. "I've found a few scrolls written into by the chiefs to check..."

He doesn't respond for the first moment. He speaks slowly. "'Before creation comes destruction.'" Roman reads off. "That's the first line." He spares her a glance, letting the notion settle. "It reads, 'Before creation comes destruction. Those who cling to what is destined to die, behold example. This is the only brotherhood we share.'"

He ends. "Then, there is a second passage that's going through more ciphers... A second message likely meant for a different reader, or just to screw with whoever translated the first bit. But one thing is clear."

Ciara grimaces. "This wasn't placed here by your target. And that Grimm horde wasn't naturally made."

"Which begs the question. Just who the bloody hell was the witch in the flames?" Roman glares at the symbol burned into the wall.

The eye surrounded by the compass...

Alright, so Roman and Blair's side of things has turned up meeting Setante. We've gotten into the lore of Isla Cadavera, and into Aline Zandril. Been having lots of fun here.

As a note, the eye surrounded by a compass symbol that Roman and Ciara found is my description of Salem's official symbol. Maybe I botched that, but yeah.

References:

Setante is based off the Irish mythic hero of the same name. Setante, in myth referred to as Cu Chulainn, is a warrior whose journey to prominence began after mistakenly slaying the guard hound of his island's blacksmith. Cu means dog, while Chulainn was the blacksmith's name, making the title refer directly to his job since Setante offered his service to replace the man's guard dog until he found another.

In myth, he's an extremely powerful physical combatant whose warrior spirit transcended flesh allowing him to survive massive wounds and body warping due to enraged spirit. A favorite weapon for him was his spear, which translates to the Setante here.

Setante in this story is a warrior of humble beginnings that ascended beyond the station of those he served through virtue of strength and conviction. A dog faunus to relate directly to his inspiration's position, etc.

I initially wanted to make an entirely new name for him, but then I remembered... RWBY literally made a character named Sun Wukong. So, copying the mythical character's name has precedent.

Join next time in chapter sixty eight: Her Vengeful Glare.