Jaune woke up back in the Mistral forest. Jaune mournfully looked up to the brightening red sky. Must be about sunrise. Jaune thought as he forced himself up. Jaune considered the last week and a half or so.
I should have taken Saph's advice and gone into computer science. Jaune could picture it already, getting some tech job somewhere, probably Atlas. He would make friends with other socially incompitant strangers that chose to hide behind screens like him. Maybe meet a cute Barista or Baker, perhaps a co-worker? Settle down, have a couple kids, see them off to their own lives, grow old and die. That would have made Mom happy.
Shame Jaune would have detested that life. It would… have been far too boring. If only I wasn't such a greedy bastard. Jaune thought to himself as he marched onwards.
You know, it's about time that I get another look at the path ahead. Jaune told himself as he stopped by a tree. Looking up, he quickly plotted his route.
Yeah, that could work.
Jaune started climbing with an unpracticed swiftness. If he moved fast enough, he wasn't doing it wrong. Jaune skittered up, making it to the top with only minor scraping damage.
Jaune gazed unto the horizon. There was just more and more green. Jaune was about to give up and scamper back down, he saw a gap in the forest. Beyond that, it was a long gap. Jaune quickly pulled out his map, and saw that it was, indeed, the road he was aiming for. Sure, it was more to his left than he would have liked, but it was visible!
Jaune wanted to scream for joy and relief, but managed to contain himself. He didn't want to alert the grimm as to where he was. He climbed down the tree and hit the ground with a soft thud, almost incomputably mingled with the sounds of the forest. Jaune made a flying sprint for the road, leaping through the undergrowth like a gazelle.
The day burned away as jaune leapt through the forest. Sure, he had to stop and walk for a few seconds before he could feel the burn in his muscles fade away.
Man, Aura must be one hell of a drug. Jaune thought as he began sprinting once more.
Jaune saw the gap in the trees some time half way between noon and sunset.
He reached it not two minutes later. A simple dirt road, a couple meters wide.
Jaune blinked at the mark of man. It was so strange, almost forign to him now.
It was unlike the Dream, in that it did not crumble with ash under his hands. Unlike the world, it was not teeming with life and green.
It was a simple dirt road, beaten into the earth by thousands of sets of feet, wheels, and hooves making their way from one place to another. And jaune would only add to them.
Welp, I better get going. Jaune thought, looking at the endless stretch of beaten earth. It's a long road ahead of me.
It took three days before Jaune saw actual evidence of someone else. Or rather, a lot of someones. A whole caravan of them, if the multitude of divots in the road indicate anything.
Jaune knelt down to inspect the tracks. Four of them, plus horses and two men on foot. The wagons are heavily laden, judging by how deep these tracks were.
Jaune glanced up to the sky once more. He could probably make another couple miles before it set. Jaune was starting to despise falling asleep, as it put him in a heartless and dire world full of grey.
Jaune wondered if he could get away with out it. Probably not a good idea…
Unless… Part A of his brain started.
No. Down Jaune. Jaune thought to himself. Sleep is good.
Jaune agreed with Jaune, and continued onward with his quest to find human life.
Or anything that spoke. He would settle for a talking frog at this point.
Jaune marched on, as silent as a sleeping knight. Part A started dooting a small diddle in his head.
Doot Dut Dut Doot, do-do-doot. Doot doodoot do Dooo! Doot. Doot doot dodo dodoot dut Doot Doot Doot.
Will you shut the fuck up?! Part B snapped at Part A. Part A gave B an audacious glare.
DOOT DOOT DOOT!
Jaune furrowed his brows in concentration. Is that the Schnii theme song?
Doot dut dut Doot, Do-do-doot. Part A confirmed.
Jaune's face fell into a tired stare.
…. I'm going to sleep. Jaune thought as he started to look for a suitable sleeping place
Part A continued to Doot. Part B merely suffered in silence.
Jaune crunched his way through a granola bar and sat just a little off the road, behind a tree. It was consumed quickly, and jaune closed his eyes.
He was back in the cell lined dungeon, where he had spent the last couple of nights. Rather, this is where he had started. He glanced at the elevator in the back of the room. He had taken it up and down. Down it led to a sewer system, where Jaune got ambushed by large leech-like lizard things that had bled him dry. Jaune had died during that encounter, and was not a process he wanted to repeat again.
Being sucked dry of your blood was actually a rather unpleasant experience.
To the upper end, it led to a series of spires and stairs. Jaune had quickly become a little lost, and ended up misjudging a jump from one ledge to another. That small mistake sent the poor dreamer tumbling to his death.
Jaune sighed, a little annoyed that he hadn't made any progress in the dream. Jaune sighed as he leaned back on the gravestone. The sound of a glass bottle tipping over alerted him that there was, indeed, a bottle. That was not in his sack. Jaune turned to grab the round onion bottle.
It was filled with a dark brown sloshy liquid, and was clearly labeled. Spirit of a Tempered Warden. It read in bold red scripting.
Jaune tilted his head, thinking. That was an oddity. None of the alcohol he found was ever labeled with any actual words on it. Sure, sometimes they would have a wax label (jaune had started a collection of the seals from various things.) or an embossing on the bottle, but never a bottle with an actual written label.
Jaune popped it open. It smelled strong, like a sour beer. Jaune raised the glass to his lips and took a swig. He rolled the beer around in his mouth. It was surprisingly complex, with bits of oak and cherry and something oddly earthy. Root Boozles?
Jaune leaned back against the grave, feeling oddly mello. He felt oddly like he was being filled, in an inverse way compared to when he cast a spell in this place. The feeling reached his head, and then continued to flow into him. It was getting denser, and denser. Not quite uncomfortable, but most certainly overly full.
Jaune leaned back and let out a sigh. The feeling suddenly seemed to reach a critical mass, leveling out to be a constant state of halfway there. And just as suddenly as it started, the strange feeling started draining out of him, pouring out of his skin, siphoning out with every breath. It seemed to seep into the gravestone, and then fade away into elsewhere.
Jaune stood up after probably a long time, and did some small stretching. His spine popped satisfyingly as he got ready to take on the… day? Night? Dream? Did this place even have a day night cycle?
Jaune shook his head with a hand dragging down his face.
He couldn't really remember what the moon looked like anymore. He knew it was broken, in half? Half sounded about right, but what did he know?
Jaune hopped on the elevator, pulling on the cord that took him up. The ancient elevator creaked and cranked and chugged upwards. Jaune pulled out his bow and arrows. He remembered that there were some rather annoying archery and crossbow men on the rooftops, ledges and other outcroppings where one could set up and shoot at noodly blonde knights. Jaune wondered if they had made a game out it already. Could they make games?
Jaune pondered this as he walked off the elevator. The sight before him was a series of open walled bridges leading to towers, spanning across like a demented spiderweb.
Or perhaps a Spire-web. Part A snickered. Jaune rolled his eyes as he walked to the edge of one of the bridges. He knocked an arrow and pulled, his arm swinging upwards until it fell inline with his target. Jaune steadied himself, waiting a moment to adjust his aim. He let go, letting the arrow fly straight. It pierced into the drunken archer's knee, sending the creature tumbling down to its death. Jaune repeated the process, turning a little to his right and angling up some more.
This one missed by about a yard and a half. Maybe a little more. Jaune grumbled and readjusted, taking into account the nasty drunken thing's scampering as best he could. This one did hit him, sending him to the ground to bleed out. Jaune could hear the pained screeched and groaning as the creature writhed out of sight. Jaune closed his eyes and tried to ignore it, swiftly moving away.
He made sure the rest of his kills were cleaner. Either he sent them tumbling off into the abyss below, or he killed them instantly with a flying stake through the heart, lungs, or head when he could manage. He made it across the bridge stowing his bow away across his shoulder.
Jaune had noticed something strange about The Dream. Time was odd here. The equivalent of days was crammed into one stint in the dream, but mere minutes were stretched out into hours of the real world.
Jaune looked at the door ahead of him. It was locked, because why wouldn't it be? This door had secrets that should not be known, things that should not see the light of day.
And fuck the other doors, this one wanted to be special.
Jaune had considered jamming a knife in there and seeing if that would work.
Hey, it works in the Spruce Willis movies! A argued.
Jaune decided to just remove the hinges with his sword. Edging the tip of his blade inbetween the bolt of the hinges and the hinge itself, and levered down. The bolt popped up with the sound of metal being abused.
Jaune repeated the process for the next hinge. The door fell over with an almost pathetic thud. Jaune looked at it, disappointed.
Poking his head into the room, he half expected it to be filled with gold or something.
Instead it looked like someone's office. A coat rack with a black grey coat made out of ?(Object not recognized)?
Jaune squinted as he walked over to it.
Feathers. The damn coat was made out of feathers.
Or rather, that weird shoulder cape part was made out of feathers. Or was it fur?
Jaune really couldn't tell. It looked like fur, but as Jaune ran his fingers through the stuff, it felt very much like feathers. Jaune took it off the rack, and gave it a once over. It seemed to be in rather good condition. The inside was rather soft.
Jaune put it on, slipping it under his various straps that held his quiver and sack. Jaune turned, feeling the cape resist the motion slightly, as all free floating bodies of cloth do.
The desk in this office was littered with papers and long dried wells of ink. Splatterings of ink stained the greyed wood desk. The papers were drowning in circles, runes, and other markings Jaune didn't even pretend to vaguely understand. In the center, a blank piece of paper with the edges beautifully done in similar scribblings. Jaune picked up the paper, and almost dropped it in shock as it started to change. The ink that embroidered the edges of the paper began to bleed towards the center, like tiny rivers and streams. They spun and swirled around, forming the outlining roads and words one would find on a map. And just as quickly as the lines poured and flooded in from the sides, they stopped.
What Jaune ended up holding was a map of what jaune assumed was The Dream. It was mostly unfilled as it only had a portion labeled "Flat Lake" filled in, and a circle with the words "The Eternal City" above it. Jaune was making the assumption that he was in this Eternal City.
Certainly seemed enough like one. Jaune took some time to sort through the rest of the scribbles, hoping to find something of interest.
He kept a couple of pages that he would consider more art than math, or magic, whatever they were, to put in his ever light pouch. Jaune was carrying swords, shields, arrows, bolts, crossbows, spears, halberds, and armor in that, and it felt like it was only full with five or so pounds of stuff.
Man, Jaune loved dream physics.
Only when he didn't think about them. Otherwise they gave him a headache. Jaune exited the room after he had explored it to his own content.
Jaune could not help but find the eternal city to be rather dull. It was nothing but stones and grey skies. Jaune wished that he could see some actual plant life in this place.
Perhaps he should try bringing a bonsai tree or something from the real world over here?
Might be worth a shot.
Jaune had probably spent days? Yeah, days in the dream before he came across a gravestone. He had made it almost across a whole ring of the city, and was in a "ranger's outpost" if the banner, in tatters and laying indignantly on the partially collapsed wall, indicated. Jaune took stock of the usable items, which included a couple poems? Spells? They were probably spells, but that line was really starting to blur.
"Why can't magic make any sense?" Jaune said out loud. "Probably because if it did, then it wouldn't be magic would it? It would be science, of some form." part B responded.
"And now you're talking to yourself, Jaune. Way to go, you're fucking loosing it." Jaune groaned as he read a paragraph of rhyme about the nature of creating paths through the woods.
Jaune looked out to the small yard, whatever grass that had grown there was long since dead and ashes. A small graveyard was tucked away in the corner, and Jaune was never more relieved to see an exit from this place.
Jaune sat down, leaned back, and closed his eyes. A relieved breath escaped him as he could feel the strain from being in The Dream melt away.
Jaune awoke laying in the mud turned ground, a thin layer of moss had grown on him. He was probably about an inch deep in the dirt, and the air smelled of recent rain. Jaune sat up, his cowl pulling up patches of moss that clinged stubbornly to their once still resting place. Jaune put his hands to his head and twisted, popping his neck. He then did the same with his back, doing helicopter stretches to hopefully wake up his sedentary muscles.
Jaune looked up at the sky, and saw it to be mid morning. "Best be getting on it, then." Jaune said to himself. "Aye, I suppose you should." A responded, oddly in a serious tone for once. Jaune didn't think it would last.
Jaune paced on, his feet leaving light prints in the wet mud.
Jaune would go on for several days, sleeping on the hard earth, or against a tree when one suitable for sleeping was available, and going to The Dream. He had gotten quite good at the bow, if he could say so himself.
Jaune found himself very, very bored with his life at the moment. He had lost track of time, and couldn't tell the difference between a day and four.
I miss the moon. Jaune thought somberly, looking up at the bright blue sky. Jaune considered skipping sleeping tonight, even if it was to just see the stars once more. Jaune continued his march, unwavering and unyielding. The sun reached its apex and fell long before Jaune even considered stopping. Jaune watched in awe as the sun set. He scampered up a tree, if only to see just a few more seconds of the world being painted. It was like seeing it for the first time all over again.
Jaune sat there for a couple minutes after the sun had faded away, just in a calm kind of serenity. Jaune took a breath in, and looked up.
The moon was hanging in the sky, it's various bits of debris orbiting lazily and slowly around it as it ruled over the stars that dotted the sky like diamonds.
Jaune just sat there for the night, staring up at the dark night sky.
He watched the sun rise in that same spot, unwavering with the trees.
We really should get going. B said as Jaune watched the sky turn from pink and orange to the normal blue.
"I suppose we should." jaune said as he fell from the tree. He landed softly, and looked up at the sky. Right, he had to head westward.
He strode on with the purpose of a man.
A man that just wanted to sleep in an actual bed for once. And food made in an actual kitchen. Jaune's brow furrowed as he looked down. When was the last time I ate? Jaune asked.
B just shrugged, while A spun in one of those office chairs over and over.
Wheeeeee~! A went around and around. Jaune tuned him out with practiced ease.
Jaune continued on at a robotic pace, stopping only once to piss. Hunger became a long distant memory, something Jaune was not sure if it was a good sign or if it ment he was dying.
People feel really warm when dying of hypothermia, yes? Jaune asked A and B. B nodded.
I think so. B responded. I don't know what you don't know though. I suppose it could be similar.
Wheeeee! A went around and round.
Jaune rolled his eyes, still marching on. I don't know why we keep him around.
B shrugged. Because he's entertaining, and probably not a psychopath.
Jaune nodded. "I suppose you're right, as usual."
You should probably eat sometime soon. A supplied from his spinning.
Jaune nodded. "An excellent suggestion." Jaune pulled his pack in front of him. He pulled out a fistfull of various vegetables.
Man, he would kill for a stove and pans right now. He missed cooking. Jaune really should stop one night and play his guitar. It was short of a miracle that it hadn't broken beyond a quick repair yet.
Jaune watched the sun dip away, and was about to settle down for the night. But behold, as one might see a wayfinder beacon in the darkest hour, firelight danced at the horizon of Jaune's eye.
A perked up immediately. People! People! Jaune, do you see that! There's people over there!
Jaune didn't even recognize he was running until a branch smacked him in the face at full speed. Jaune stopped and blinked, letting his aura heal him after the stunning smack wore off. He approached with more caution after that lesson. He saw a caravan, three carts total, along with some horses. The cartes were filled with… were those cages?
What in the world would they be transporting?
Jaune squinted as he approached cautiously, now in suspicion rather than to not startle the caravaners.
Oh dear god, those were people in those cages.
Welp, there went the peaceful plan. Jaune did a quick mental tally of the slavers. Five total around the campfire. Three asleep, one actually alert and one nearly out of it. The carts were set up in a triangular way facing the road. Must be for an easy morning start. Jaune flipped his hood up, not noticing the odd added weight by the patch of algae on the left side.
"Thus the expert in battle moves the enemy, and is not moved by him." B supplied helpfully, quoting an excerpt from The Art of War.
Jaune nodded.
A was practically jumping. Muder Time! It's Murder time! He pranced with a little tune.
B gave him a concerned wide eyes look. You know what I said about A being the stablest out of all of us?
Jaune nodded as he picked up a somewhat weighty log.
I take it back. B said as Jaune gave the log a toss to the side. It landed with the sound of disturbed leaves. Jaune moved in the opposite direction.
Sleepy, Jaune decided to call him, perked up at the sound as Alert jostled the man next to him awake.
Jaune dared to glance up to the cages. They were tiny things, for the people they housed. Full adults were crammed in a meter tall cage that was less than 3 fourths than that. One of the occupants, a teenager that couldn't have been older than him, opened an eye. Their eyes glowed bright yellow orange. Jaune held a finger to his mouth, motion for her to be silent.
She looked over to the slavers.
It was too late for them though. As they stood up and moved towards the log, jaune flanked from behind. He pulled out his short sword and knife, crouching low. Sleepy was in the back, and the other four had made a diamond formation as they stalked towards the sound.
Jaune makes his move, leaping forward with his sword in front. Sleepy's eyes widened as he felt a sword jab through his rib cage. There was a gasp from Sleepy and the enslaved as the blade thrust through. The slavers turned around in shock as Sleepy fell off Jaunes blade.
"Oi! He killed jack!" one of the Sleepers yelled out, leveling a firearm at Jaune. Jaune held Sleepy in front as he advanced, using the corpse as a bullet sponge.
BANG! BANG, BANG, BANG! The revolver shots went off, sending bits of blood to fly out the backside. It didn't phase Jaune, who continued marching on.
He supposed it should have phased him. He held a once living, breathing human with a large hole in his chest that was complete fault of his own, in his hands. He was using that once living, breathing human as a meatshield to not be shot.
The stench of blood should have thrown him, made him feel something.
Jaune had been in The Dream for far too long for that to matter anymore.
That visceral feeling that should come with the giving of the rib cage was not there. There was no panic, no second thought, no regret.
The Dream had beaten that out of him a long time ago.
That was probably a bad thing. Jaune wondered if he still counted as human. B shrugged. Would it matter?
Less talk, more stabbing! A responded as he made punches and jabs in the air, as if he had a blade in his hand.
A was right. They were still in the middle of a firefight. Jaune tossed Sleepy- sorry, Jack, at one of them as he jumped at the gunman. It was not elegant, as Pyrrha would have been. It was not clean, precision cut and measures without an action wasted as Ren would have executed.
It was not with blistering speed that Ruby achieved.
It was not a silent move, almost hidden with subterfuge that Blake was so good at.
It was not with the light dancing beauty Wiess would have moved with.
Nor was it with the rambunctious happy energy that Yang would have carried into the lunge, as though it was some kind of sports game.
It was with a brutal kind of efficiency. A straight line between him and the dead man standing. The purest essence of violence was within that lunge. From the impact to the stabbing to the stumble to the ground.
It was not pretty. It was not kind. It was not elegant. It was not gilded. It hid nothing from the world. It was exactly what it was, whether it wanted to or not.
And in that moment the dead man saw exactly what those hard blue eyes were, as he felt his back hit the ground.
Albert Ferrows died before he could spit out another word. Jaune's head snapped up to his next target, his blue eyes locking onto a man fumbling a shotgun, his shaky hands not able to load the heavy hitting firearm.
Jaune moved with reckless speed to get to his target. One must always move into battle. It is with action that the path of war is paved. Make sure you are directing that path. Jaune remembered the quote from Oobleck's parting gift.
The man was missing his windpipe before he could even prime the shotgun. The last three of the five men backed away, each of them holding some form of cheap firearm in their shaky hands. Jaune leveled his blade into an open stance, entering a showdown of sorts between him and the bandits.
The one in the back, Alert, turned tail to flee. He had decided that it would be better to loose the cargo and live than dare to stand in the way of that thing. "It can't be human! Not even huntsmen move that fast!" he muttered with panic in his voice.
Jaune saw him turn and dash towards the horses. Oh, no he does not! A yelled as jaune grabbed the pommel of his knife.
It flew through the air with a soft whistle, piercing itself into the back of Alert's knee. He screamed as he fell, breaking his nose upon the edge of a cage. "Ow, fuck fuck fucking shit that hurt, Asshole!" He yelled, cradling his knee.
Jaune ignored the comment, moving with purpose towards the last two. One of them pulled out an axe. It was a short handled thing, ment for one hand wielding. The bandit did a small twirl and charged. Jaune dipped to the side, and wrapped his arm around the bandit's outstretched limb. With a jerk of his elbow and a terrible mix between a ripping and a popping, the man's arm broke. He screamed in pain and dropped his ax to the ground.
His head followed with a quick slash of jaune's sword. Jaune bent to pick up the ax that the man had dropped
The last uninjured one managed to grab his fallen ally's shotgun, and leveled it at Jaune. "Not another step, or i'll blast a hole through your chest." He threatened, the flase bravery in his voice a bold, but futile attempt to hide his fear.
Jaune raised an eyebrow at him, the only mote of expression on his face. It was, of course, hidden by his hood. Jaune took a step forward.
The man pulled the trigger, hitting Jaune full force in the chest. Jaune was actually jolted back by the blow as his aura flashed to absorb the impact forces.
That… That hurt less than i thought it would. He registered before recentering himself. He and the Shotgun wielding bandit gave eachother an awkward stare for a moment, before Jaune took another step forard. The man fired off his second shot, but jaune was braced for this one. Jaune stepped forward, like an unwavering tide. The man clicked empty after the first step, and spend the other five desperately trying to reload the weapon. By the time it was snapped shut, Jaune was right infront of the man. The man snapped it closed, the look of relief and joy on his face melted into one of abstract terror once he saw the thing was less than a foot in front of him.
He gulped in fear as to what would happen to him.
Jaune kicked his shin, causing the support to bend. The shotgunning man fell to his knee, prostrating himself before Jaune. Jaunes sword impaled the leg that was still upright.
The man screamed in pain.
That scream was rather short lived as Jaune drove the ax into the man's skull. He couldn't help but wince at the sound and feeling of the bone dome caving in.
Jaune wretched his weapons out of the corpse, letting it fall and douse soak the ground.
Jaune approached the still whimpering man with His knife in his knee. Jaune hefted his ax, slamming it into the man's upper back.
His whimpering was silenced with a sharp gasp.
Jaune pulled his weapons out of the last corspe, giving a cautionary glance to the surrounding camp for any other sign of danger.
The slaves were cowering away in the furthest corners of their cage, as far away as possible from both the remnants of the slaughter and the moss covered thing that did the deed.
Jaune approached the nearest cage. A middle aged woman, probably about the age of 40, scrambled to the back of the cage, as far away from the door as she could.
Jaune grasped the lock, focusing his white grey aura into his fist. The lock bent and deformed under his clenching fist.
Jaune looked into the womans fear filled eyes. Jaune opened his mouth, about to speak in english.
They might not know English. This is the Minstrel country side. A supplied.
Mistral. B corrected.
A looked confused. What?
It's mistral, not Minstral. Minstral is a kind of fool, or clown. B explained
A's head tilted. Huh, I always thought it was Minstral.
I did too. Jaune said
Nope. It's Mistral. No N in it. B said.
Jaune returned his attention to the problem at hand, enriched by the new information about the name of the country he was in.
"Do not fear." Jaune said in Feral. "You will suffer no harm from me."