CH. 4

Evet was free here. Nestled within the horizon itself, with blue skies and the distant ground below her and the gaping vastness of space above, she took in all that she deemed as her domain. The skies were hers. The stars were hers. The Black Chariot twisted and weaved better than any dancer. On either side of her craft flew two Fang class fighters, her wingmen on this job.

The mission itself was simple; an agreement between Bo Katan Kryze and a nomadic sect of Mandalorians had been made in which a specific package was to be taken from an Imperial garrison and returned to said Mandalorians. They would in turn join Kryze in the liberation of Mandalore. Evet's task was simply to be the close air support and exfill. Her wingmen were to keep fighters off her and provide additional CAS.

"This is the ever-lovely Operations Control Officer callsign Liberty, Prowler Team clock in." A cocky voice buzzed in through the comms.

"Prowler One standing by." Evet answered, dipping the nose of her ship downward towards the planet below. Her cockpit window momentarily became awash with the orange inferno of reentry.

"Prowler Two on station and at your service!" Came the voice of the pilot 'Geezer'. The fighter on her left, emblazoned with a dramatic painting of a Taung's skull, canted its wings as it took up formation. Evet glanced over and caught the sight of Geezer flashing her a thumbs up, to which she nodded back.

"This is Prowler Three, ready to ooga some boogas." 'Grimace' answered cheerfully. A grin of yellow painted teeth flashed on the side of the ship that formed up on her right. The fighter's independent wings rotated in such a way that it reminded her of a boxer rolling their shoulders. Evet rolled her eyes, ever the joker this one.

"Alright Prowler team, you know the score; ground team's already putting in work, let's not leave them high and dry." Liberty said amidst the three ship's leveling out in high-atmosphere

Clouds and canyons, mountains and valleys, forests and seas covered the planet as if it were an utter paradise. Maridun was a picturesque world, idyllic really, and today she'd have to burn some of it. Grimace's whoops of joy rang through the comms. Geezer made an idle comment about the Imperial presence on the planet. Evet opened up on the throttle, sending her ship into even greater speeds as the clouds grew nearer. A blip, orange and blinking, appeared on one of the many readouts on her console as they descended.

"Got a lock on friendly transponder, Liberty." Geezer called out, the fighter's wings twisting in accordance with the ship's movements.

"Solid copy Prowler Two, be advised picking up multiple bogies enroute to intercept, ETA three mikes." Liberty warned.

"Acknowledged Liberty, what's the status on our team on the ground?" Evet asked, switching on weapons systems and readying countermeasures.

"Already on their way to the extraction point. I've got em' on the other comms channel, patching in now." A burst of static, then the distorted sound of blaster fire filled the cockpit; explosions erupted as the telltale howl of TIE's screeched in the background.

"Prowler Team this is Beroya Actual, we have the package and are moving to extraction! Be advised, we are encountering heavy resistance, requesting air support!" The voice was young, couldn't be any older than she was. It was deep and authoritative, Evet heard the gravel only gained by regularly shouting over the cacophony of blasterfire.

"We're reading you Actual, Prowler moving to your position." Grimace answered, his tone filled with cocky assurance.

"Just get these guys off us! Jetpack's zero fuel, proceeding on foot!"

By this point, multiple blips appeared on Evet's scanners. On the horizon, eight grey and black dots materialized in the azure sky. Evet's comm's sounded once more, likely one of her wingmen's calling out of the bogeys, but she paid them no heed. The air parted before her and her ship as their prey grew closer and closer to their own death.

As they neared, the Chariot's targeting systems locked on to one of the approaching TIEs. Predatory satisfaction filled her as her finger depressed the trigger. One of the eight immediately burst into a ball of flames, the others scattering. The TIE's trademark shriek sounded more akin to a short yelp at the speed in which they passed over her head. Her focus honed in, yanking the controls in pursuit of the fighters. Even with the ship's environmental systems she found herself pressed into the back of her seat. Air surged into her helmet, desperately supplying oxygen to the girl's stressed lungs. Evet clenched muscle groups in addition to employing breathing exercises, her suit compressed, pushing blood back to her head all in efforts to resist the ever-increasing G-forces. The horizon flipped back and forth from land to sky rapidly as she hounded her quarry.

"Matriarch, go and provide support to the ground team, we'll handle the flyers." Geezer shouted, his fighter already twisting in the air to follow one of the fighters. Her two wingmen had broken off and had begun to engage the enemy, banking, diving, and climbing in pursuit of their chosen quarry as if invisibly tethered to them. She too had entered the fray looping and pirouetting in efforts to down another. She pushed on, determined to make another kill.

"Matriarch, break off! We've got this!" Geezer ordered again, winding out of the way of a lance of green blaster fire.

Evet grimaced, but acknowledged all the same,

"Matriarch breaking off."

With a dizzying climbing loop, she disengaged her target and put her nose in the direction of the LZ. Noticing that the largest of the fighters had uncoupled itself from the fight, three TIEs scrambled after her in pursuit, the others attempting to do the same, but were intercepted by the two relentless Fang class fighters.

"Haar'chak! Matriarch, you've got three bogies on your tail!" Liberty shouted.

"I know, I've got em." Evet assured, diving low and nearing a mountain range, her insides lurching in protest.

The ground passed by below her in blurs of greens and browns. Her ship skimmed along the top of the trees, the TIEs hurtling on behind her. Streaks of emerald passed overhead. She pushed on, speed ever increasing. A steep mountainside neared and she pulled in, sending her craft climbing up into the blue. The sudden G-forces crushed her, blood squeezed out of her skull. Darkness closed in around the edges of her vision and she fought to remain conscious. Her body strained and struggled to keep withstanding the pressure. Adrenaline fueled her. A detonation of flame behind her and the loss of one of the three howls alerted her that one had crashed.

"Prowler One, splash one!"

Green spears of light followed her still. She pulled in one more time and sent the Chariot diving back downwards into her pursuers. Sensations of bodily protest were ignored and a feeling of unrestrained jubilation took her. She lived for this! This rush! She felt so alive! She cried out in sheer glee as her sights came to rest on her target. Depressing the triggers, bolts of golden light spewed forth from her own craft reducing one to an airborne wreck.

"Splash two!"

Streaking by the ball of flame, she leveled out and once again flew in the direction of the beacon, the lone shrill cry of the solitary TIE distant but present. Deciding to put the TIE on the receiving end of the chase, she punched the brakes. The Chariot lurched once again. Snapping upwards and watching as the TIE passed below her, she repositioned herself for pursuit. The fighter panicked at the change in positions and forced the fighter to bob and weave, but could not shake her. The beautiful sound of the targeting computer chimed, and she squeezed the trigger. Flames erupted and the craft was engulfed in an inferno. Now free of any hinderances, she followed the ground team's emergency beacon.

"Beroya, this is Prowler One, on approach, what's it looking like down there, over?"

"Having the time of our lives Prowler One, we've got several wounded, low on equipment, and I swear they're starting to actually aim. On the bright side, there's a pretty little spot on a cliff you can land on and GET OUR SHEBBS OUTTA HERE!" Beroya bellowed, leaving Evet's ears ringing.

"Solid copy Beroya, hold tight. Geezer, Grimace, what's your status?"

"Green Matriarch; good flying, saw it from here. Enemy tangoes down." Grimace comm'd.

"Prowler Team, Liberty, you've got more fast movers approaching your position; counting six." Liberty called out.

"Copy Liberty. Matriarch, focus on the ground forces, we'll handle the TIEs." Geezer replied.

"Matriarch copies."

Evet scanned the landscape, quickly spying exchanges of gold and red blaster bolts bouncing back and forth on the side of a stony mesa. The flat-topped mountain sported light amounts of greenery; small white figures surged upwards, besieging a smaller number of figures in greens, tans, and greys.

"Beroya, Prowler One, I have eyes on and ready to assist."

"Good to hear it Prowler One, marking targets for strafing run."

A blip appeared on her targeting computers, and she quickly adjusted her aim. As she careened toward the mountainside, she depressed the triggers; the ionized gasses sent screeching into stone and soil, the shrapnel and concussive force shredding into the Imperial forces. She swung around, making several more passes turning the scenic land formation into little more than a barren slope. A landslide had been triggered halfway through her strafing run, burying what was likely a platoon's worth of troopers. The ground team were safe from the disaster due to their position, though she made a note never to attempt such a stunt like that again.

The figures near the top of the mountain had broken cover and were making their way to the top, where the flattest portion of the mesa was just big enough for her to land.

"Prowler Team, this is Beroya Actual, thanks for the assist; really pulled our shebs out of the fire."

"It's what we do Beroya," Evet said, "it's what we do."

-R-R-M-

Evet could remember the day she met Carolus with upmost clarity. She could remember the sight of him dragging in a wounded Zael into the ship with a bundle strapped to his back as Aemos and the others covered the rear. The grins on all nine of their faces as they revealed the package to be an ancestral set of beskargam belonging to the nomadic clan. Those boys… Her boys… Things were different now; with Carolus' ascension to Mand'alor, Mandayaim's destruction, and her and the others' appointment as Protectors, the dynamics of their relationships had shifted. Carolus and the Ciciran twins were all that was left of the original Beroya team; the others, all of which were older, were lost in the Purge. The twins hadn't changed much despite all that had happened, still joking and shouting and raising all sorts of havoc. Mereel though, by the Manda! Mereel was her sovereign ruler instead of an operational lead. While she was honored to be given such a station, she still missed the days when all that mattered was pulling the boy's shebs out of the fire.

Now here she was, flying her new Mand'alor down to a world never before seen. Her insides fluttered in anxiousness and excitement. She wasn't sure how well this venture would play out, but if the moon was any indication, their next few years would be anything but simple.

The white moon was shattered in such a way that it resembled Concord Dawn. Hulks of debris floated in place, still caught in the moon's gravity. The moon was barren of all life from what she could tell; it was the kind of moon that was little more than a huge rock. Evet drifted the Chariot in between the larger fragments and paid no heed to the smaller rubble bouncing harmlessly off the ship's shielding. Her eyes would dart from asteroid to asteroid, but every now and then Evet found her eyes sliding back to that green and blue jewel before her.

The planet was beautiful. From what the droid's scans told them, the environment was perfect for habitation. Lush plant life, a thriving ecosystem, and ample land untouched by the locals. Evet's thoughts turned sour upon thinking of the inhabitants of the planet. Nera had informed her and the team that the droid had made contact with a native of this world, and the exchange had been violent. Well, less of an exchange and more of the native wrecking the osik out of it. Evet herself had no qualms with getting into a good firefight, just as long as she knew that she was getting into one in the first place.

The doors behind her opened, ushering in the obstructed sound of war chants and approaching footsteps.

"The other teams have called in; they're on their way to their respective sectors now." Evet reported, catching the glint of gold and crimson in the edge of her vision.

Carolus sat down in the copilot seat with a silent nod of acknowledgement, helmeted gaze not turning from the globe beyond the ship. Evet turned her head to study him. Had she not known him better, she would have thought him relaxed or even tired; but the two had spent years working together. Carolus was tense, ready. She wondered how a human being, Mandalorian or not, could exude the same presence as a lurking nexu.

"I've been wondering, how did you know this planet would be here?"

Evet cursed the question the moment it had left her mouth. Normally, her leader was quite candid with those under his command, but this subject was one which had quickly become something of a sticking point to the Mando'ade. People had been asking the same question since their escape, and Carolus had never given them an honest answer, if he chose to answer at all. It seemed that this was one of those times that he refused to respond beyond giving her a visored look. She tilted her head in submission and her Mandalore returned his eyes to the world before them.

"Once we get in atmosphere, I want you to deploy the drop hatch and remain in high atmo. We don't know what their sensor capabilities are, so we'll play it safe." Carolus ordered in a no-nonsense tone that turned playful as he continued, "We'll call for help if things get too ugly. Kara knows nobody rides to the rescue faster than you."

Evet flushed at the praise. He was right though; she'd fly head on into Coruscant to keep her boys safe.

Carolus stood and gave her a nod which she returned, before entering the troop bay once again. Evet sighed. Change was on the rise. The planet was nearing. The claiming of their new home was close at hand. Her blood sang at the thought.

Not long now.

-R-R-M-

Rollo's voice was already raw. Belting out song after song along with the twins always left him feeling like liquid fire flowed through his veins. A savage smile found its way onto his face beneath his helmet. He thumped his chest in time with the song, losing himself in the act. The twins were no different, stomping on the ship's hull and beating their armor along to the rhythm. The lyrics flowed through him with all the fury of the Akkadese Maelstrom, roiling, strong, and feral. It was intoxicating. His mind drifted into images of battle and struggle; he could almost taste the heady tang of blood on his tongue. He felt powerful, invincible. Though there were only three of them in the hold at the moment, it felt to him as if all the host of his ancestors chorused behind him. They sang of blood and glory, of death and wrath. It felt like far too long since he was in a good fight! Somewhere down below lied his new home, and all that was needed was for him and the vode to claim it. It would be magnificent!

With a unified bellow, the three finished their chant and froze in place, held in an artful battle stance. Gasping for breath, Rollo's eyes shifted from Zael to Aemos. The two gave the slightest nod in each other's direction before both launching themselves at him, sending two brutal strikes to either arm. Rollo braced but took the punches well enough. They held nothing back, but if Rollo could not have handled something as simple as punches, then he would have had no place here. Rollo retaliated, lashing out with a lightning-fast jab to Amos' helmeted head and a cruel kick to Zael's flank. They accepted the strikes well, nodding to him and massaging the sore spots appreciatively. None of them would accept their fellow warriors to be any less than at their peak ability. They didn't disappoint.

Carolus entered the hold with confident strides; Zael, Aemos, and Rollo gave a small bow and stood at attention. Carolus returned the gesture with a nod. For a moment, the four stood motionless. Carolus dismissed them with a second nod and began looking over his own two weapons, the others following suit.

The two Protector twins had only seen their Mandalor's weapons once upon his anointment. The beskad was a harsh blade made for piercing beskar armor and hacking into opponents. The gleam of the pure beskar blade was hidden within a scabbard made of gundark red leather. A small ornamental sein jewel, ever emanating its own amber light through the natural gasses contained inside, remained securely enclosed within the artistic pommel. Intricate designs made of aurodium, bearing a sheen more brilliant than gold, were inlayed within the handguard. The grip itself was new, the old having been made of ancient wroshyr wood that had rotted away long ago, now fitted with a polished fossilized basiliskan horn. All in all, the sword was as functional as it was ornamental, an absolute masterpiece.

His Mandalorian Ripper remained locked and loaded holstered on his hip. This was the weapon with which he was most seen. The old thing essentially needed to be rebuilt one part at a time with how much it had degraded over the centuries. Now though, it was likely one of the most dangerous small arms their forces possessed. An energized slugthrower that had earned the status of disruptor weapon through sheer damage output, it was known for bypassing personal shields that were so ubiquitous throughout its service during the Mandalorian Wars. The pistol's addition to Carolus' loadout had made the weapon the second of three staples that had cemented his place as the rightful inheritor to the title of Mand'alor.

Rollo quietly ran over his own Firestar 10-K carbine. His E-851 sat holstered on his own hip, a reminder of his time before joining up with Carolus and the others. His vambraces were primed and ready. His jetpack was fueled and tuned. He glided his right hand over his hidden vibro-knife. No matter how many times he did this, no matter how much he reassured himself, he always felt as though he was forgetting something.

"Feels good to be back in the field. What's it been, two months since we last were shot at? On the ground I mean, Manda'yaim's hettyc doesn't count." Zael said, idly breaking the charged silence as he checked over his med supplies.

"Thereabouts Doc, at least for most of us. Carolus had that one op on Shogun before we all rallied to Mandalore." Rollo said as he adjusted his helmet.

"Oh?" Aemos asked, perking up, "Forgot about that! How'd that go?"

"Good." His answer was short. The three glanced at each other then back to him.

"Are you okay Boss? You've been… withdrawn." Aemos hedged, earning a nudge from Zael, who turned to the last Mereel.

"Broody, he means broody. Even more than usual. What's up boss?"

Carolus paused and looked back at the three. With a shake of his head, he rolled his shoulders back in an attempt to ease some of the tension that he had built up. Rollo saw the tilt of Carolus' helmet; being part of a culture that required the person to be fully covered in armor a vast majority of the time, one became experienced in reading body language. Rollo could tell, there was a small smile underneath Carolus' helmet now.

"Just nerves vod; corralling all of you has taken years off my life!"

Zael huffed in amusement as Aemos barked out a short laugh. Rollo himself chuckled as he strode over and lightly struck his leader's shoulder. Rollo knew that a cloud hung over Carolus, but he also knew that his Mandalore would have to snap out of it for this to work.

An almost imperceptible tremor rocked through the hull of the ship, alerting him with the knowledge that they had entered the atmosphere. The lights went out for a moment, then were replaced with a dull red. With a final look, the four readied themselves for the drop. The hull rattled. The light turned green. The floor fell out from under them.

-R-R-M-

The report Qrow had sent Ozpin was somehow both better and worse than he had hoped. Qrow had sent him pictures of the drone on his Scroll and Ozpin had contacted Jimmy. The good general had confirmed that it wasn't one of Atlas', which meant one thing, a third party was indeed involved. Qrow hated being right, just his luck.

In the end, Oz had decided to send Qrow back out into the woods where he had encountered the object. Qrow wasn't happy about it. The weather was balmy with pleasant sunshine brought about by the midday sun, truly the beginning of a lovely day for which everything to go wrong.

Perched high in the canopy of an oak tree, Qrow's tired eyes scanned the forest floor. He had been at this for seven hours now and only came across the occasional deer or squirrel. He pulled out his flask with a sigh, knowing that if Glynda knew he was drinking on this job she would tan his hide. Didn't matter to him much, it wasn't like they were married or anything, Heavens knew she sure nagged him like she was sometimes. Qrow shuddered at the thought; they wouldn't last a day before one of them killed the other. The dry burn of Patch Island whisky coated his tongue and flowed down his gullet like liquid gold. Tai had gifted him this bottle last winter solstice, it was good stuff. The girls had given him a new jacket and a weapons cleaning kit, Qrow loved both.

All was quiet again save for the singing birds and gentle breezes, the excitement with the mystery drone had quickly worn off and in its place gave way to an anticipatory unrest. Stowing his flask with a bored sigh, Qrow pushed off the trunk of the tree and stretched. Best to get back to it, he thought, he'd stick it out for a few more hours than call it in.

The shadows cast by the afternoon sky hid him well as he stalked though the woodlands. The whiskey did well to smother any scrap of nerves that might give him away. His eyes scoured the forest floor and his ears strained for any measure of noise, or lack thereof. There, just west of him, came a noise of heavy plodding. Something big, many somethings, were on the move. Qrow grunted to himself; he felt that he knew just what was making that sound.

-R-R-M-

Hurtling toward the ground should have been more daunting than it was, but somewhere along the way it had turned into routine. They had gone through this type of insertion several times before. The cold of the high altitude was little more than a chill to Rollo as the four plunged downward to the planet's surface. Passing through a cloud, condensation slid off his person in rivulets, the fog occluding everything beyond only a few feet in front of him. It didn't last long. Exiting the cloud was like peeling back a curtain; the lush green terrain bloomed before them invitingly, drawing them in.

Zael was the one to deploy his jetpack first. Changing his orientation from a headfirst dive into a controlled descent. Carolus and Aemos were not far behind as they too engaged their JT-12's as well, bleeding off inertia as the woodland rapidly neared. Rollo rushed past them, twisting himself in the air, counting the seconds.

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

His jetpack spewed flame as the tree canopies brushed his feet. Branches whipped him from all sides, snapping and breaking his fall further. Rollo landed in a roll, hoping to lessen the impact, and came to rest in the center of a pile of broken branches and twigs. The roll only did so much to dampen the collision with the ground as his legs, shoulder, and back ached. Nonetheless, he straightened himself out and unslung his carbine, scanning the forest floor.

Three roaring pairs of jets descended behind him, and the thud of boots were muffled in grass. The telltale sound of priming blasters told him that his back was covered.

"Jaro, Rollo." Zael groused in Mando'a, Westar M5 at the ready.

"Olar sol'yc, aren't I?" Rollo chimed back.

"What, no Basic?" Aemos asked, his Amban's scope scouring the foliage for life signs.

"Lock it up you three, recon droid went down half a klick northeast. You see a predator, you blast it. You see a local… be polite." Carolus ordered, Mandalorian Ripper drawn.

"And if the local's hostile?" Rollo asked.

"Blast 'em politely." Carolus answered.

"Yes sir!" Aemos said with a grin.

Carolus motioned them to form up and move, the four stalking through the woods with a surety born out of experience. Their steps were silent, rustling no leaves and snapping no twigs. Blasters and disintegrators passed over the wild surroundings with a practiced eye. No words were spoken. Birds flew overhead and rodents scurried from ground to tree; the chatter of countless woodland critters chorused around them in a cheerfully disordered choir. The musty smell of damp soil and the refreshing fragrance of plant life crept through the filters of Rollo's helmet.

It almost felt like a hunt to Rollo, though he supposed it was, in a roundabout sort of way. The four trekked alongside trails made by the wildlife for a time, never truly stepping on the path itself for fear of leaving tracks in the dirt. They parted with the path sometime later as it branched off westward and marched on, hiking in between tall trees and the occasional boulder, guided by the droid's final coordinates. Time passed with the day turning from midday to late afternoon, the shadows cast by the bright sun lengthening with each passing hour.

Underneath the shady canopy, the land felt as if it were out of a dream. Heavy branches drooped down, reaching toward the earth with hands of leaves and vines. Flowers of unknown type bloomed along the forest grounds and in between the roots of trees. The sound of a roaring stream reached their ears and Carolus motioned them to head on toward the noise. Wind whirled throughout the woods, bringing about the rich smell of sap and fresh water.

The further north they traveled, the louder the sound of running water became. Aemos seemed to have seen it first; he straightened before leaving the formation to break from the treeline. The other three followed, only to stop and gape at the sight. Before them, a grand waterfall roared, grey stone lined in vibrant moss, supporting white water that rushed downward into a churning basin. The trunk of a colossal hollowed out tree had fallen in between one end of the stream and the other, making a natural bridge across. Further down the stream, sand coated either bank of the river. Visible through the clear water, smooth round stones lined the bottom of the waterway.

"Kara!" Zael breathed, his eyes traveling about the scene.

"Looks like Naboo." Rollo muttered to himself in awe.

"Should we even keep following the beacon?" Aemos asked, not expecting a response.

"Vi kelir udesiir olar. Take a moment and catch your breath, I want us to reach the beacon before nightfall." Carolus ordered, earning affirmatives from his company.

Rollo strung his carbine across his back, nearing the river and drawing out a canteen.

"Is the water safe?" he asked, unscrewing the cap and dunking the container into the water.

"I'm sure you'll be able to tell us vod." Zael quipped, eying the boy as he idly reached for a ration bar stashed within one of his many pouches.

Rollo rolled his eyes and stood, turning his eyes back to the treelines on either side of the river. They hadn't come across any contacts yet, which set him on edge. The droid hadn't been deployed long before it was destroyed. Rollo knew that this should have meant that either the planet was inhabited enough for the droid to run into contact with little prompting, or it- and likely they- were being followed. Rollo's mind turned to the other teams deployed to other sections of the planet. How was their exploration going?

Rollo mentally shrugged and lifted his helmet, only enough to bring the canteen to his lips. The hiss of his helmet and the feeling of a soft breeze on his cheek felt amazing as he drank the cold river water. A soft crack came from the trees and Rollo's helmet fell back into place in a second. Two blasters and two disruptors snapped up, at the ready. A moment passed, the peace of the river forgotten and replaced with a dangerous readiness. Without Rollo's helmet properly sealed, a faint smell of charred dust snuck into his senses. It was strange, as if one were to describe what the very color of black were to smell like. A rumble reverberated through Rollo's chest; something big was out there, and it was hungry.

"Contact!" Zael shouted, his call nearly drowned out by the bestial roar.

A monstrous shape darted out from the trees, lunging with a swipe at Carolus only to burst into ash after a shot from his Ripper. More followed. Big, hulking masses of black fur and snarling muzzles. Zael and Rollo poured fire onto the creatures, some collapsing while others charged on. Aemos switched out his Amban for his sidearm and began to fire into the pack; reloading the pulse rifle would waste precious seconds.

In a moment, a shadow surged at Rollo and pain overtook him. A shrill cry escaped him as razor sharp teeth sunk in between the gaps of his pauldron and bicep armor. He had only a moment to fully appreciate the agony before the creature dragged him back into the brush, tortured screams fading as the beast and its prey escaped. Carolus' called out his name in horror, unable to escape the onslaught in order to save his friend.

-R-R-M-

The noise was strange to Qrow, like the twang of a steel cable almost. The following below of a Beowolf was much more recognizable. The screams sealed it. He cursed to himself, racing toward the cry as fast as he could. He drew Harbinger from his back and readied himself for his swing. The lupine form of the Beowulf darted past, dragging the struggling form of an armored figure. A string of curses in a tongue Qrow had never heard poured from the figure's hidden lips. Then, to his momentary shock, a plume of fire belched out from the figure's captive arm.

Qrow followed, hearing the sound of the remainder of the pack fade away behind him. The scorch marks and tracks were soon joined by splotches of blood and Qrow redoubled his efforts. The tracks led to a towering stone wall; whereby a dark cave opened up like a gaping mouth. Qrow shifted Harbinger in his arms and stalked in at the ready.

The further he ventured, the less light there was, until he resorted to his Scroll for light. The blood trail lingered on for the next hundred feet before halting. Dirt and more scorch marks told that there had been a struggle. The imprint of the Beowolf was left empty where it had fallen. It had been killed. The realization had just struck as something tackled him from behind. Instinct roared in Qrow's veins telling him to kill! kill! kill!, but the thing that had latched onto him was far too small to be a Beowolf.

A fist struck Qrow in the jaw and he struggled to get the figure off of him. The cold steel of a barrel pressed up against his chin, and he froze. In the dim light cast by his fallen Scroll, a T- shaped visor glared down at him. The figure was smaller than he had expected, hunched over him with a pistol of a design he had never seen before. Questions filled Qrow's mind, but his new companion beat him to the punch.

"Who are you!? What was that thing!?"

It was the voice of a child.

AN: DONE! Sorry for the long wait y'all, I rewrote this chapter three times and had writer's block for this story something fierce! Unfortunately, college and work and life also have a way of distracting me as well. Don't worry, this story won't be dying if I have anything to say about it. In fact, I have planned out this story to Vol. 5 or 6 of RWBY and have some pretty in-depth character development along the way. Don't worry, I have a plan Arthur. I've also been spending time writing some little vignettes and snippets to add a little flavor along the way. Not sure how well people will like it, but you never know until you try, am I right?

Also sorry about cutting the action short, I do plan on adding more action scenes in the future, this portion of the story just drags on in terms of getting where I want it to be. THERE WILL BE ACTION! THERE WILL BE WHOLESOMENESS! THERE! WILL! BE! WARCRIMES!

Anywho, that's about it. Sorry to y'all again for the monstrously long wait. This is a beloved hobby of mine, but a hobby that tends to take a back seat in life at times. Once we get all the Mandos on Remnant, I promise things will pick up speed.

Love you guys,

Enclave R.