Jaune was mightily impressed by what lay beyond the door. A cobblestone road that was lined by stacks and stacks of old tudor style buildings, long since abandoned and decrepit. They were covered in this ash lichen like… plaster that clumped and piled.
Jaune tilted his head to the left, poking out the door. The townscape stretched out as far as the eye could see. Jaunes head tilted to the right, and the same was true.
Just an endless 18th century Valean cityscape. It was kind of spooky, the endless ghost town.
Jaune walked through the door, his rusted blade at the ready.
He strolled, exploring with a cautious kind of curiosity, as one might approach a particularly unstable bomb. He saw a wooden sign hanging off a building that read in faded letters "Brewery" The top of the sign had been gnawed off by the ravages of time. Jaune entered the building, taking a glance around. He saw on the half of the desk that was still standing a green glass jug, wrapped in a dried woven reed.
Jaune uncorked the cask, giving a whiff. His eyes watered as he held the alcohol away. "Holy, ok, wow. That is… wow that's strong." He said, putting the bottle in his sack. Worst case scenario he decides to drink it while stitching himself up in this place.
He didn't have any aura to protect him here after all, and he died the time before last he got into a fight. Jaune had decided that dying was very uncomfortable.
Jaune wandered around the seemingly endless city for what felt like hours, occasionally picking up random bits of whatever this place's past was. A tattered black and orange banner, a piece to what looked like chess, but Jaune was unsure. A wrapped set of papers which held the scrambled ravings of a madman who seemed obsessed with the idea of self. At least, that's what Jaune gleaned from the word vomit of scribbles. The leger from the Brewery, someone's button, stained with blood and plastery ash.
It was a painful reminder that this was once someone's home. Once a lot of people's homes. Jaune wondered if this was what it was like to walk through Mount Glynn.
God it must be super depressing. At least this was all formed by his subconscious.
Which honestly, those implications concerned him so much more than the landscape around him.
Man, he should look into a psychiatrist when he got to Haven, or maybe a therapist. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.
Just another thing to add to the list.
Jaune strolled onwards, finding an actual set of half decent pants and a shirt. "Oh, Thank you Oum! Some actual clothes! Fuck yes!" Jaune said as he shrugged them on. The shirt was a little tight, but it was a shirt!
He had everything but shoes!
Which he was immediately regretting, as he was constantly cutting his feet on the bits of shrapnel and glassed ash that littered the ground.
Jaune looked down, taking a moment to bend down and inspect his cut up feet. Jaune winced as his hand pulled away wet with blood. His feet frankly were starting to look like someone had tried to draw a map on them. Poorly.
Jaune sighed as he stood up, trudging onwards through the city. There was a sound of a brick shattering as the grey brown object flew past his head. Jaune turned, getting struck in the shoulder with another brick. A ghoulish figure was at the bottom of a hilled road, throwing pieces of broken building at him. Jaune ducked another brick.
"Now, that isn't very nice." jaune said, starting to job forwards to the creature. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's mean to throw things?" Jaune quipped as he dived under another brick, tumbling into a roll. Jaune lept into a poorly executed tackle, slamming the two of them into the ground. The alcohol reeking ghoul growled as it kicked at Jaune's stomach, ripping jaunes shirt and skin. Jaune was flipped onto his back as the creature scrambled to it's feet, hissing and snarling, breathing that terrible drunken stench. Jaune grabbed his rusty sword, giving a clumsy and poorly angled swing at the creature's legs. It cut through the things shin, sending it toppling to the ground. It screamed as it hit the ground, curling around it's leg. Jaune scrambled, grabbing his sword and falling on the creature, his rusted blade spearing the creature's warped and visible rib cage. It gave a guttural death rattle before it stopped moving. Jaune's chest heaved as he stared at the creature he had just killed. He leaned on his sword, stuck now in the ground
He had done so twice now. And he really couldn't care that much. It helped that they looked like nothing like people, and had the mentality of a mindless grimm. Jaune looked down at his bleeding torso, putting a hand to the wound. He drew it back, seeing that it was covered in blood.
He didn't know what exactly he was expecting. Jaune sighed, reaching into his sack and pulling out one of the bottles of alcohol. This is going to sting. Jaune braced himself as he uncorked the foul smelling stuff. He poured a portion of the stuff onto his wound, hissing as the strong alcohol acted as a disinfectant. He watched as the burning liquid washed away his blood from the wound.
And then his eyes widened as he watched his would start to pale and knit together. Jaune looked at the bottle he held in his hand with amazement. He tentatively put it to his lips and swallowed a mouthful. He gagged and coughed, doubling over from the burning in the back of his throat. He blinked away his tears and he glanced down at his wound.
It was completely scared over and was starting to turn a healthy pinkish color. Jaune watched in amazement as the flakey scabbing fell off and his stomach now had a healthy, slightly discolored scar mark that was almost indistinguishable from the rest of his torso.
Jaune nodded, accepting that his dreams were just weird and he was probably going to be an alcoholic.
Jaune recorked the bottle and put it away, giving his head a mind clearing shake. He looked around at the divot, which appeared to be a cul de sac. Jaune saw several destroyed… apartment buildings? And a graveyard.
Huh. That seemed really random. Jaune walked forward to the first grey moss plastered grave. Jaune brushed away some of the ash, to hope and try to read the name. He could just barely make out a N towards the end of the five letter name.
At least, jaune thought it was five letters. Could have been less. Jaune felt rather tired, sitting down in front of the grave. He put his sack in front of him, digging through its contents.
A banner of a forgotten house, its edges frayed and tattered. The shield, etched in orange and gold held several symbols Jaune didn't know the meaning of, including a snake, a circle with a line through it, crossed blades and a… Star? Pointy symmetrical object?
Yeah, pointy symmetrical object. Jaune wondered if the flag was for a family crest or a nation.
Jaune folded the banner and put it to the side. Next he pulled out that ratty doll he found in the sunken town. This was a childs toy.
Jaune remembered that he had to play with dolls when he was a child. Not that it was terrible, and jaune certainly made much more of a fuss than he should have during that age, but they never seemed to have enough money for "boy toys" with five children at the time. But when his most tomboy sister, Claire, came along wanting "boy Toys" (A joke that his parents had a great laugh about, something he didn't understand why until later), she got them. Jaune looked down at the doll, wondering if it was cared for before it was abandoned. He tucked a loosening bit of it's hand stitched dress back and laid it on top of the banner. He pulled a thick booklet out next, the symbol of a keg with a hole, pouring ale stamped on its front.
The brewery's ledger. He cracked it open, sneezing from the dust it kicked up. Jaune read over the pages, the meticulous and neat print handwriting being preserved on the crumbling pages.
Jaune noticed that there was a spike in sales once they started carrying a particular brand called "HS." It was soon after he saw the first couple of pages where HS was being sold that it became the only thing on the ledger. Less than two pages after the handwriting shifted into a much worse style of scribbling, becoming almost drunken. The messy script became unreadable, and then stopped altogether. Jaune looked through it again.
How strange. He thought with a shrug. Closing the book, he pulled out the other collection of paper he had. The random scribblings of some dead man's rambling word vomit. Jaune didn't even make it two pages before he put the pages away. It didn't make any sense! It was just some random rambling about peeling back layers of reality and exploring a metaphysical place called self filled with ghosts of memories. Atleast, Jaune thought that's what it was. It might also be about a very, very lost chameleon.
Jaune sighed, leaning his back against the gravestone as he repacked all his things. Jaune let out a sigh, looking up into the darkening grey sky. He closed his eyes for what felt like just a moment.
When he opened them, he was in the field of grass he had set camp in last night. The sun was just barely peeking through the night sky, and his fire pit was smoking with residual heat. Jaune shook his head from the dream, a palm landing on his stomach where he had it kicked in. It felt fine to him. Jaune quickly packed up his camp and started moving once more.
He looked around with a smile. This place was much, much better than his dreams. So much more green and more color in the Minstralian planes.
Jaune made good time, making it close to the break in the mountain range that separated the forest from the planes. Jaune could see the mouth of the forest nestled between the two mountains in the distance, some several miles away.
Jaune set up camp once more, before looking around. Man, I would kill for some meat. He thought as he looked through his vegetable cache. I thought I saw a rabbit around here somewhere. He thought as he pulled out his sword and went on the hunt. He saw movement in the bushes and froze, slowly getting ready to strike. He pounced at the rustling, seeing a hare there. The hare's eyes widened and it scampered away, leading Jaune on to a chase for the creature. It ducked and dodged and scampered in a zigzag manner, giving Jaune a run for his money and forcing him to use a fair portion of his Aura. Jaune eventually managed to catch the rabbit by it's leg, sending it spiraling and tumbling out of control. Jaune beheaded it quickly, putting the poor thing out of its misery as soon as possible. He glanced at the sun, which had now set almost completely. Just exactly how long have I been chasing after this thing? Jaune thought to himself in shock and disgruntlement at his failure. He rushed to his campsite, knowing that if he wanted to eat he would have to be quick about getting this on the fire.
After a quick de-skinning and removing of organs, Jaune put the rabbit meat on the kebabs next to the vegetables. It tasted only marginally better than last night's meal.
Jaune rolled out his bag once more, and rested under the stars.
Jaune opened his eyes to grey skys and a ruined cobblestone cul de sac. Jaune sighed as he stood up, ready to explore this endless city some more.
Jaune walked for what felt like hours, picking up bits of the world, each a stark reminder of the place this had once been, teeming with people and life.
A flask of brandy, a book of poems for the love struck and lovesick, a straight off handed knife, a leather and cork ball once used for play. It was so strange, walking through a place seemingly completely devoid of life.
Well, that's not entirely true. There were the cold, pale, drunken ghoulish things that wandered around seemingly aimlessly. The moment Jaune got near them, they would go into a bloodthirsty frenzy, so Jaune started to avoid them.
He got surprisingly good at telling where they would be, too. The main trick was that they often stunk like alcohol. It didn't help that they were around every corner of the plaster wall houses. Eventually jaune came across a rather unique building compared to the plaster wall houses.
A walled off building that looked like a small castle, with several baliste mounted on it's towers. Juane looked to the left and to the right, seeing a collapsed section of stones that he could enter. He climbed up the wall, vaulting into the complex.
Jaune looked around, seeing that he had just entered a court yard of some kind. Several targets were lines up at one end, clearly for the use of archery practice. Jaune saw beyond that, several posts were set up. Possibly for melee combat practice?
Jaune hopped down into the area, making a scampering speed walk to the actual building. Jaune looked around for any sign of danger before putting an ear to the door. He had been surprised one too many times in the city to not be. The alcohol in this world was magical, and great for healing whatever wounds jaune sustained, but Jaune loathed the taste of the stuff. It burned and made his eyes water.
And he had a limited amount of the stuff, another non plus factor. Jaune didn't hear anything on the other side, and carefully pushed the door open. A dusty armory greeted him, its various weapons covered in cobwebs and grey dust plaster. Jaune walked through, glancing around the weapon and armor filled room. Jaune traced a finger over one of the spear heads, accidentally cutting himself on the sharp instrument. He jerked back, sucking the injured finger. It painfully reminds him of his ex partner. Juane turned away, looking to the other side. A rack of swords lay in front of lines of bows. Jaune walked over to it, lifting a bow from the rack. Its string was taken off, as customary for the storage of bows. Jaune ran a hand lightly over the dark oak wood, inspecting the ranged weapon. He grabbed a bowstring, latching it to the bow. He gave it an experimental draw, grunting at how intensely difficult it was.
Holy Oum, Jaune was never going to make fun of a bow user ever again. Jaune let go of the string with a huff.
Jaune decided to weigh his options of weaponry at the moment. He seems to just be able to put whatever in his sack, so space wasn't an issue right now.
Jaune really loved dream physics, even if the world was kind of shit.
He could just grab whatever, probably. Jaune considered it, looking around the armory filled with rows upon rows of weapons. He grabbed a quiver of arrows, and then stuffed a couple more in his sack for good measure. The bow was destringed and attached. Jaune looked down at his ratty clothes and sandeless feet.
He glanced at the various sets of armor with envy. Then it struck him.
I could just take it. Jaune reminded himself.
Jaune left the armory clad in a set of studded leather armor. He had originally tried on a suit of armor similar to Cardin's full platemail. But found it far, far too heavy to even bother moving in. He went further into the keep, climbing up a set of stairs that led to an open sided hallway. Jaune looked down at the great hall below him, seeing some armored drunken ghouls below him. Jaune winced, stopping and staying rather quiet.
On the walls hung several banners, four on each side. They were old and in disrepair, but of a good long lasting quality. Jaune counted eight in total. Starting from the left side, there was a wine red banner with a green and silver embroidery of a helmet flanked by two unfurled scrolls with some motto Jaune didn't recognize. Tengo Vistsuvi Mastrama, Abere Khall. The next one over was a bright blue one, a golden lion in front of a red infinity knot. It said Gjorbaan Prahl, Ta'rim Skar'araash, a Feral saying. "Through (Lion as a metaphysical concept), Victory and Kingdom kept.'' Or maybe it was "Safety and Life Together"?
Feral was hard to translate when it came to poetry. Jaune moved on to the third one on the left. A black banner with a grey cross on it. There was no motto on this one, leaving it the plainest.
Jaune moved on to the next one, an once bright red color with a symmetrical black symbol that could have been a torch? A trident? Jaune wasn't sure. This one also had a motto at the top, but Jaune couldn't make out the words. Jaunes gaze glanced down at the unaware drunken things, and then to the other side of the hall. Another four banners were attached to the wall. A green one, a gauntlet holding a rod. Below it, the words "en la Gloria de Dios, golpeamos a nuestros enemigos".
Not that Jaune understood a single word of that, but he got the feeling it was vaguely religious.
The banner next to it was a teal blue banner with a sandy gold open palm, a sickle and bundle of hay underneath it. On the Palm was the Feral Symbol for Health, or heart? Something that symbolizes health in one form or another. Jaune moved his attention to the third banner, which was a darker blue banner with a red orb above an open book. Their motto was so long it was in an unreadable size on the scroll, which wound from the top of the banner to the bottom. Jaune immediately thought mage at the banner. He looked at the last banner in the hall. This was… the strangest of the eight. A brown red banner bordered with a stone grey color with three stripes at its top. The line closest to the top was a solid orange color. Below it was a blue line that stretched its entirety. And below that was a green line as well. Towards the bottom was a simple line of text
"Ranger"
Jaune raised an eyebrow at that. There was no symbolism, no scroll wrapped motto, just a plain three lines and a single word. He shrugged, continuing to walk through the cat walk. He made it to the end without incident, creaking the door open. Jaune took three steps forward to be stopped by a staircase. Jaune saw something tossed from the top. A small black ceramic sphere arced through the air and landed right in front of Jaune. He rolled backwards as the bomb exploded in a wave of fire. Jaune stumbled as he felt his back burn with the heat. Jaune turned to look as the drunken ghoul prepared to lob another firebomb.
"Oh, Fuck you." Jaune said to himself, drawing the bow he stole and notching an arrow. He attempted to pull it back, and faltered at the immense draw power it required. Another vial of explosive napalm landed, knocking jaune away from it's epicenter.
And off the precarious catwalk, sending the poor huntsman falling to his doom.
"SHIIIIIIIIIIITTT!" Jaune yelled as he fell, and felt his intestines shatter and splatter on the cracked and upturned stone floor.
Jaune woke once more, the sun only a couple inches in the sky, with an acute alertness. He sighed wearily. He packed up camp with a practiced swiftness, and marched on to the edge of the forest, hoping for a small change in luck. He pulled out his map, once more going over his route.
He would cut through the woods going North and then northwest, eventually crossing where the roads touched the forest. It cut out the long arcing path that connected Moralle to Occidente Mito and Dormo Carta, both External Safe Zones of middling sizes.
This path should, in theory, save him several days of travel.
Assume that Jaune didn't fuck this up. He put his map away, glancing at the sun to get a general sense of his direction, and set towards the wall of green.
Jaune walked through the forest at a careful pace, prepared to have to fend off some grimm. The forest had become rather dense incredibly quickly. Large gnarled trees grew over the ground in a great tangle. One thing jaune was grateful for was the abundance of edible resources, from the occasional fruit bearing tree or berry bush to mushrooms and wild asparagus, or other form of vegetable.
Jaune had settled into a pattern over the last couple of days. Stride through the woods heading north, but slightly to the left, find a place to sleep. Wake up in what he was now calling "The Dream.", that bland and dangerous ashen plane of existence. Jaune had at this point fully explored the lower hall of the keep and had, thank god above, found a gravesite. They had become the equivalent of checkpoints, as far as Jaune understood them.
The keep, jaune had discovered, was surprisingly large. There were several sections carved out for each of the banners, as Jaune had discovered.
He also discovered that some of the drunken things could throw magic. Literal fucking magic! Bolts of Fire, flying books and bits of rubble that orbited the caster, blasts of lightning, the list went on.
Jaune had also made a dream altering discovery. He too, could do magic. It was a strange feeling, not at all what he was expecting from casting spells.
He figured it was a bit like what being a hose felt like, in a sense. He had discovered this power while he was in the healer's section of the keep. A small prayer was written on a bandage.
"Myrth, Lordess above, looked down upon Acan, dripping in blood, and spilt her wine upon him, turning him to wine. And thus his strikes were washed away,-" Jaune had muttered those words, and a wound that a rather pesky mage flinging ghoul had left on him started to bleed a deep red wine for a moment, and then the wound had scabbed over. While it wasn't as effective as the alcohol he found, it worked miracles.
Oh god, that sounded awful Jaune thought as he jumped over a small stream. He had discovered a couple other spells since then. A protective forcefield that lasted a couple seconds, or could absorb a couple of hits, a small blast of ice that damaged and slowed everything it hit, that blood to wine healing spell, and by far his favorite: Reflect Jump. It was a ranger spell that, upon taking damage, he would dissolve into the world and appear a couple meters away. It took the most out of him, but the free get out of jail teleport and backstab well made its draining effect up.
Jaune glanced at the sun, trying to figure out at what time he should shift course. It should be today, if his questionable math was correct.
It had been five? Yeah, five days in the forest. Jaune really couldn't tell where he was in the forest, but he was making an assumption that he was making 15 miles a day.
Was he wrong?
That was somewhere between Probably and Fuck yes.
Jaune really hoped he wasn't as lost as he thought he was. Because that would suck quite a bit.