END CHAP 7
Jaune sat down by the gravestone just outside a locked door, the Healers symbol etched into the door. Jaune turned an iron coin over in his hand, feeling the rough rust on the thing.
It became harder to tell the difference between when he was asleep and when he was awake. Sure, the two worlds were very different. One was filled with life, green trees and plants and all kinds of people, the other ash and liquor.
If you told Jaune that the wasteland was the real world, Jaune might have to catch himself believing you.
Man, this place is not good for my brain. Jaune thought, pocketing the metal coin. He looked at the door, before walking towards it. He gave it a mighty push open, the cloak he had taken from the rangers quarters billowing behind him slightly. Inside was rows upon rows of sickbeds, lining the walls of the room. Walking into the room, he noticed that the beds were filled with corpses. And walking between them was a white clad plague doctor. It monitored and noted the conditions of the corpses. Jaune was about to back out of the room when the plague doctor saw him. It jolted in surprise.
"What is this?" It rasped in a hollow, deceased voice. As though its throat had been replaced by a dry and cracked pipe. "Another unfortunate soul infected with the disease?" It tisked, drawing a medical saw that was probably used to amputate limbs. "How unfortunate."
Jaune drew his sword, keeping a wary eye on the doctor. He was shocked that he found someone that could actually speak, but the doctor's hostility was premise for jaune to chalk him down with the rest of this world.
Absolutely batshit crazy and out to kill him.
Man he was lucky that death didn't mean much to him any more. Jaune tossed a frost bolt at the raving doctor, and rolled out of the way as the doctor leapt at jaune. Jaune counter swing with his two handed sword, catching the doctor in the shoulder. The doctor hissed, making several wide swings at jaune. Jaune danced backward, just barely out of range. The Plague doctor lunged with his off hand in a straight line, catching Jaune in his gut. There was a sickly pusling foggy glow from where the doctor's fist was buried in Jaune's gut.
He felt like his stomach was on fire as he slammed the hilt of his sword into the plague doctors mask and slammed him with an overhead strike. Jaune then ungraciously rolled backwards to give him some distance.
It was really mostly him falling backwards onto his back, and failing to do a kip up. It worked though. Man, whatever that thing had done to jaune's intestines was really fucking him up. Jaunes' vision blurred and he felt like throwing up. Jaune quickly muttered some holy words.
"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,-" He muttered, making sure to backstep away from the doctor's wild saw swipes. Jaune held his sword up, parring the strike down to the ground. Jaune took his opportunity and grabbed the knife at his side, and thrust the blade into that white mask. He ripped the blade out with a ferocious yank, the gushing blood staining the white clad figure's left side a dark red. The figure stumbled, giving Juane but a moment. Jaune immediately went to uttering his healing phrase once more. The Doctor began to swing his saw, enraged once more at this sickly man.
Jaune felt his body be lacerated into shreds, as his vision dimmed from blood loss.
Damn it, here I go again He thought as he woke back to a cool green forest.
That plague doctor actually talked. Jaune thought as he collected his things and packed them away. Perhaps I can manage to reason with him. Shame he jumped to "curing" me right from the get go.
Jaune stewed on the fact that there was seemingly sentient life in The Dream. Jaune absentmindedly fiddled with the palmell of his sword. That was odd, that doesn't quite feel right. He drew the blade, it being much, much lighter than his actual sword. He held it up to his view.
It was his knife. That straight bladed combat knife that he had in the dream.
Jaune flipped the knife over, looking at the other side.
Yup, it was the same knife. A knife he did not have in the awake world.
This…. This got suddenly much more complicated. Jaune considered the implications. And then shrugged.
Eh, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Jaune walked through the forest once more, testing the various magic he had.
"In the frosted wrath of winter, may it seep through in fury." Jaune muttered, half expecting for the frost bolt to shoot from his fingers and strike the nearest tree.
But alas, nothing happened and Jaune was left feeling rather foolish. Jaune moved on through the forest, striding and hopping over branches and bramble. Jaune's danger senses, something that had developed in both the dream and in the occasional encounter with grimm or other natural dangers. Jaune felt tired now.
He felt a little like he hadn't slept in days, which he supposed that he hasn't. He was tired of being on edge so much. Every day he had to be on guard, and at night it was a fight for his survival.
He was looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed for once.
Jaune shrugged off the notion with the comforting thought that he would, sooner or later. He continued his travel through the forest
Jaune came to a basin of kinds, a small waterfall pooling into a shallow puddle on the left side. Jaune glanced around for any dangerous Moon Monkies or sloths that might drop from the trees and attack him.
Sloths, really? Jaune thought to himself. You honestly think that sloths are going to what? Drop on you like the Vietnamese? You've been separated from Nora for too long.
On second thought, who the hell are the vietnamese anyway?
Jaune silenced his thoughts with a motion, stalking down into the basin. He knelt by the fountain, inspecting the water. He gave the water a discerning glare, pooling some in his palm. He swirled it around, before shrugging and taking a sip.
Tasted like rocks and dirt. A pretty standard taste for water, now that he thought about it. Jaune dipped both hands and took a long drought from the puddle. Jaune let out a sigh, resting on his knees in a peaceful manner.
He took the moment to enjoy the sound of the forest. The sound of the small waterfall just in front of him, the chirping of birds and the creaking of trees. A rather zen moment if he said so himself.
Ren would have loved this place. It was so peaceful and serene.
Nora would have hated it. It was so peaceful and serene.
She would have lost her goddamn mind after a couple minutes from boredom. Jaune laughed at the notion of a hyper bored Nora pacing circles around a meditating Ren for several laps before deciding to go and knock over some trees in search of sloths.
Jaune snorted at the notion.
Man, I miss them. Jaune had the sobering thought. He thought he wouldn't, after their stinging betrayal. He pushed those out of his mind, his face souring.
Wait a minute. Jaune squinted to the sides.
Something's wrong. I can feel it.
Jaune's head cocked. The birds had stopped singing. Jaune took a sniff of the air. Something foul had tainted it. Jaune's head twitched back as he heard the fall of a heavy foot. Jaune stood, drawing his shield and sword. He turned to face who would dare disturb his silence.
A massive Berengal stood at the clearing. Jaune jumped at the sudden appearance of the massive grimm, before forcing his face into an idea of calm. Remember jaune. Who is the master of his emotions is the master of the battle. Jaune reminded himself, a paraphrased quote from The Art of War.
He took a close look at the Berengal. He looked rather similar to a stuffed monkey that his sister once had. Jaune remembered making that damn thing a space suit costume based off the one she saw on some children's show.
"Jangles the Moon Money." Jaune said as seriously as possible, like he was from one of those western flicks Yang liked so much. "We meet again."
The massive monkey gave a chuffing sound, evidently displeased with the name. Or perhaps Jangles the Moon monkey didn't mind it? It was hard to tell, with Jangles being a grimm and all.
Jaune rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. Really? Jangles the Moon Monkey? He thought to himself as the two started to slowly circle each other, like sharks.
Or moon monkeys. Jaune's brain unhelpfully supplied
What in the name oF GoD Is A fUcKiNG MOON MONKEY! Jaune mentally yelled at himself exasperated.
Duck. came part number three of his brain. Jaune frowned.
What? He asked himself
Jangle's swinging. Duck.
Jaune saw that Jangles the Moon Monkey- Fuck, The Berengal. The Berengal had swung it's massive fist, hoping to give Jaune the slapping of his life. Jaune tucked his knees and held his shield up.
He jolted at the impact, stumbling back a half step. Jaune stepped forward with a thrust. The Berengal tanked the hit like a champ, relying on it's naturally thick hide to protect it from the hard forged steel blade. The Berengal slammed it's fists down, only to connect with the dirt. The blonde dreamer had rolled backward to avoid the powerful slam. Jaune dashed forward, going for a flurry of swipes. Jangles raised his arms to protect himself, roaring at the flurry of knicks and cuts that jaune inflicted. The Berengal kicked, forcing Jaune to absorb the blow with his shield. Jaune skitted back, his face souring as the stinging pain from the blow shot up his arm. Jaune looked up to his opponent. Jangles the Moon Monkey. Jaune thought. And then he snickered. Jesus Christ, he was a moron wasn't he?
Jangles chuffed in disgust at the sound, roaring as he charged. Jaune dodged and rolled under the outstretched gorilla arm. He delivered a deep slashing cut to the Grimm's back. It howled as it spun, swinging it's thick meaty arm at an impressive speed. Jaune scampered to get his shield inbetween the flying fist and his face. He felt his shield bend, then give as the top third of the round wooden face snapped off. The fist continued to travel rapidly at his face.
Jaune was slammed to the ground from the force of a forearm almost as thick as his thigh making contact with his face. His aura flared as he felt at least one of his teeth break.
Jaune landed on his back several feet away. "Owwww." He groaned, spitting out the white bone from his mouth. It was accompanied by quite a bit of blood. Jaune raised his head, still laying spread eagle on the ground, to the Berengal. "Jangles, that hurt you fuck." He grumbled.
The Gorilla gave a yell as it reared back, trying to slam Jaune into the ground and turn him into a permanent fixture to the basin. Jaune yelped, rolling to the side. He did this several more times and Jangles the Moon Monkey pounded divots into the ground. Jaune, with an unpracticed stumbling motion, rolled to his feet using his shield as a tool to push up from. He stumbled, his brain being only slightly rattled. Jaune let go of his now ruined shield in the center of the basin, sticking it up with one edge in the ground. The Berengal growled at the fact that its prey wasn't dead yet. It leaped at the blonde with a fury only an animal could have.
Jaune responded in kind, raising his sword to intercept. He instinctively flew through the well practiced motions he had practiced and executed over and over in The Dream. His sword raised at a high angle, catching the massive arm with his blade, sweeping it to the side. Jaune stepped forward under the arm and stabbed his knife into Jangles's ribs. Jangles the Moon Monkey howled in pain as it felt the sharp iron slide in between its ribs. Jaune spun and took a step. He was now behind Jangles. Reversing the grip of both his blades and slamming them backwards. He felt them cut into the grimm flesh. There was a stumbling thunking sound as Jangles fell to the ground. Jaune's composure fell as he sensed that the battle had ended. He turned to see his enemy, which was wheezing on the ground and bleeding out. Jaune eased himself backwards, sitting on the hip of the dying grimm.
He let out a breath.
"I always wondered why, you know." Jaune asked. "Why we do this dance over and over. I kill you, you kill me, over and over again." Jaune lemented
The grimm gave a wheezing chuffing sound in response. Jaune continued monologuing.
"You were a good fight, you know." Jaune looked at the Berengal's visible eye. "You should be proud of yourself. You'll die a noble death."
Jaune leaned back, staring up at the canopied sky. He chuckled at a random thought that had just popped into his head.
"You know something, Jangles?" Jaune asked, not looking at the dying gorilla. The gorilla gave another wheezing chuff.
"You might be the person who understands me the best." Jaune said rather seriously. Then he giggled at the thought before sobering up again.
"You don't really care. You know exactly where we stand. Me and you. You try to kill me, I try to kill you, it's simple. There's no betrayal, no bittersweet goodbye, not a single care in the world besides who's standing at the end. It was just me and you in those moments. We both knew where we stood with each other." jaune sighed. "It was refreshing. No rules, no hopes and dreams, nothing. Nothing but the moment." If jaune had a cigarette, he would have taken a long drag at this moment. With a grunt, the injured dreamer stood, leveling his sword at the monkey's neck. Jangles the Moon Monkey looked at his blonde killer with a kind of disinterested acceptance. Like he was bored with the concept of death.
Jaune's head tilted to the side as he gazed into the dying thing's eyes. "Well, I won't keep you here any longer, Jangles." He said as he thrust his sword into the thick neck of the grimm monster. "I'll see you in hell, old friend."
Jaune watched his last companion dissolve into dust. "You know." jaune asked the dissolving corpse as it started to drift into the wind. "I wonder if you understood a single word I said."
Jaune left the basin grave, leaving behind a broken shield embedded into the ground, and a small pile of black dust.
Jaune didn't make great progress that day, as he was recovering from that fateful fight with Jangles the Moon Monkey. Jaune climbed up a tree, hoping to see some sign of direction. A mountain or a landmark would have been nice.
Alas, Jaune saw nothing from the continuing expanse of green. Nothing but the forest as far as the eye could see. He turned to the left, seeing the outlines of the mountains
Jaune felt his eye twitch as his vision blurred with tears. He was shaking by the time he was on the ground, he was shaking in tears.
"AARRRGGG!" Jaune screamed out as he slammed his fist against a tree. Jaune cringed at the crack that emitted, tenderly taking his hand away.
It shot pain up his hand. "Owwwwwww." He whimpered, crying from the myriad of emotions. He cursed himself for being so weak. Damn it Jaune. It's exactly why everyone left you. You're on your own now, You can't afford this kind of weakness.
Jaune gave another punch into the tree. And another, and another. At some point he started burning aura, partially to keep his hands in one piece. His breath became mingled with angry words and unintelligible screams.
He eventually ran out of team, and his eyes felt spent. Stumbling like a drunkard, he tripped over his own feet more than he put them in front of each other.
I'm so tired of being weak. Jaune thought as he leaned against a tree. His legs gave out from under him, sending him to a sitting position. Jaune rested his face in his hands.
He wasn't sure when he had closed his eyes, but he opened them to the familiar crumbling wall in The Keep.
Jaune gave a weary look to the large closed doors that led to The Doctors room. Jaune gave it a glare, thinking about the several dozen times he had tried, and failed, to defeat the mad doctor.
A shame that he could never get any useful information out of The Mad Doctor.
Jaune turned in the other direction. I think I saw a staircase somewhere near here. He thought.
I'm not quite sure how he got here. Jaune thought as he sat upon a literal hill of bodies. He had decended the stairway, which led to the basement level complex.
Which was almost as equally as massive as the keep itself. Jaune had wandered the damp underdark, occasionally having to slay some semi sentient mushrooms,
Then he came across the Dungeons. Cells upon cells of drunken ghouls, dead corspes and other ungodly things Jaune really didn't want to think about.
The Jaune encountered The Warden. A massive brute of a ghoul with a very large club sword thing. It had reminded Jaune a little bit of Cardin, as it took a devastating swing with a roar.
Jaune frowned, tilting his ear to the side. Was that boss music he was hearing?
Jaune shrugged and rolled forward. His blade jabbed into the giant's thigh.
Jaune dodged again as the massive ghoul stomped.
Right. Time to deploy tactic number four. Jaune thought as he stabbed the massive creature in the butt.
Roll up from behind and thrust.
Wait.
That sounded pretty bad.
He could go take a stab at the ass?
That somehow sounded worse.
Wreck them in the rectum.
Oh jesus christ what is wrong with me? Jaune thought. Wait, I'm still fighting this dude.
FUCK!
Jaune was promptly wacked in the chest, sent flying and tumbling to the cold damp floor.
Jaune groaned as he stood up. "Ow, you piece of shit." he grumbled as he started to run forward at the massive Warden. The Warden swung again, and Jaune had the sense of mind to 'jump' out of way, dissolving into lichen and crumbs of dust. Jaune reformed behind the armored beast, and spun to attack it in the anus.
God damn it jaune. The Dreamer cursed at himself. Jaune rolled again, this time actually paying attention to the fight going on.
This would go on for some time. Jaune's patented strategy was working very well: Assault it in the Ass.
Fuck. I did it again. Jaune grumbled mentally as he gave one last stab into the creature's glutes.
It groaned in pain as it fell down.
Jaune let out a sigh of relief at the death of the warden.
Then everything went to shit. Every single cell in the prison complex opened, unleashing at least dozens of starved ghouls upon the lone dreamer. Jaune had one thing, and one thing only to say on the subject.
"Fuck."
And thus the dance began, and Jaune learned two things very quickly.
One: Patented Arc Tactic Number Four: Stab it in the Shitter did not work.
Two: He really needed to workshop that name a little more.
And that fighting a lot of tiny things was probably worse than fighting one massive thing. It didn't help that Jaune was already a little tired from kicking the Wardens ass. Well, stabbing it really.
Eh, Potato Potata jaune thought as he teleported away, backstabbing one poor schmuck in the buttocks. He gave a gasp for breath as he held up his sword to block.
He failed the enemy that had snuck up behind him, which jumped onto his back and bit into his shoulder. Jaune fell backwards, his heavier armor causing the ghoul to be trapped beneath the dreaming knight. Jaune lashed out at the pale drunken things that saw an opportunity to dog pile on him. With some effort, Jaune blinked out from under the mass of bodies.
He cursed not having decided to pay enough attention in dust studies to make a bomb.
Do they even have dust here? Jaune wondered as he chugged a mouthful of alcohol. He felt his body start to knit together, even as he lashed out with his dagger. A move that should have torn open that claw wound on his side open even wider.
The ghoul fell with a cut face, and Jaune jabbed his long sword into its neck. It's painful screaming died out with a gurgling sound.
Jaune turned to the rest of the hoard. "Alright uglies, let's dance."
Jaune had learned something in the Dream. Dancing around your enemy was surprisingly effective. It made sense, if you took the time to think about it. Spinning and twisting and jolting out of the way would make you hard to hit, after all.
Jaune seemed to have a lot of that on his hands now. Time that is. How would one have a lot of dance on their hands? Jaune wondered absentmindedly as he dipped backwards to avoid a swipe. He gave a large two handed swing, cleaving all those that dared to be within a couple yards of Jaune. He took a moment to throw his knife into the backmost ghoul. Jaune took tally of how many were left.
Huh. only four left. I could have sworn I took out less of them. Jaune wondered as he advanced. A bolt of frost caught one of them in the chest, slowing them and weighing them down with a load of ice. Jaune rushed forward to take advantage of the slowing magic, slamming the hilt of his blade down in a Mordhau strike, the protective crossbar becoming a temporary hammer heard, diving into the creature's skull. It collapsed with a cracking sound similar to puncturing a coconut. Not that Jaune knew what that sounded like, but if he did, he would equate the two.
Jaune spun, catching a drunken thing that had gotten too close in a whirlwind of a sharp sword. It fell with several horizontal ish lacerations. The other two ghouls looked at each other, then to the ground before them. It was wet with the blood of their corrupted and twisted brothers and sisters. Looking back to each other once more, they turned tail and promptly ran out of the room, deeper into the dungeon levels.
Jaunes' composure collapsed as he flopped backwards onto the small hill of bodies. It was strange. He no longer minded the smell of alcohol. He could still smell it, but it just didn't bother him.
The smell of blood was the same. Jaune closed his eyes, and could feel the bodies underneath him shift and metamorphose. Jaune raised an eyebrow as he stood up. The ground that had been soaked with blood and liquor had shifted to be a small graveyard, of about ten or so stones. Jaune let out a long suffering breath.
Why can't things in this place make any sense?
Jaune layed back down, and closed his eyes. He would deal with it later.
If you've made it so far, thank you for suffering through my word vomit.
So, Jaune is not ok, we explore the Dream a little more, and we reveal part two of The Dream!
please give a review, it makes me happy.