There was something comforting about being in the grey tinted plane of The Dream. And that was probably more concerning than anything else Jaune had considered. He still greatly preferred the lush green of the world, and its smiling faces and life born sounds. But still, Jaune felt at comfort in The Dream. Jaune twisted, popping his spine. "Right, back into the fray we go." Jaune sighed. He wondered how long he was going to be here for this time, before he could find an escape. Months, this time? Perhaps a whole year? Jaune sighed.
Sure, when it became unbearable he could throw himself off a cliff to wake up, but he knew what that was. Cowardness.
It was cowardness to admit such a defeat. Sure, he himself was a coward, he wouldn't deny that. But that was a little low for even him. He would just suffer through the unchanging vastness of The Dream as the seconds, hours, days, whatevers passed with his march.
Does time even pass here? B questioned.
A shrugged. Eh, probably not. He said nonchalantly. Their last stint in The Dream felt like it had lasted forever. A significant problem with judging time was that nothing changed to indicate that it had passed.
Sure, things moved, but there was no clock that worked, no Sun to rise and fall, no stars that shifted in the sky.
Jaune found himself hating it. He hated how quiet this place was. He hated how even the damn ground itself smelled like liquor. He hated that this world twisted and bent and corrupted whatever was here.
He hated how much it felt like a kind of Home to him. Somehow, it felt far more fitting to him than the golden firewarmed halls of the Arc House in Orleans.
He wondered if it was corrupting him as well. Jaune ran circles in his mind as he walked through the city. Well, that map was right. It did seem to be Eternal. As in, you could walk through it for all eternity and never see the end of it.
Jaune sighed as he shook his head as he passed a wall that had several sword slashes through it. He had caused that some time ago, and by that he ment two nights ago. It was in a frustrated fit of manic rage. You could practically hear the screams of frustration radiating from the crisscrossing pattern of slashes, that mimicked the web of a spider hopped up on cocaine.
Jaune walked past it with a kind of embarrassment that one had when they saw rather embarrassing baby photos of them throwing a tantrum.
Jaune took a left, avoiding a small cluster of Drunken ghouls he didn't want to deal with right now. There was a rooftop he could get to that was an ample positional advantage. Jaune stopped as he finished his turn.
"Was that hole always there?" he asked.
B shrugged. I don't know. I don't believe that we've been down this street before.
Jaune squinted down the hole. It led to the sewers, that much Jaune could tell. Jaune pulled out his map, sprawling and winding as it marked and inked his path on its page. He hadn't seen this part of the sewers yet. Jaune shrugged as he jumped down the hole.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained! A proclaimed
Nothing ventured, nothing lost. B countered, being the killjoy he is.
Jaune hit the ground with a splash, as he landed in some ankle deep water. There, at a time long ago, must have been some form of organic material in it (namely feces) but it had been so long that any crap in here was long decomposed. Jaune sloshed forward through the muck, a wary hand resting on his favored one handed hammer and knife. He seemed to change his fighting style as he grew his arsenal in The Dream. Taking advantage of The Dream's mechanics to expand his experience as a fighter. It was a shame that he couldn't do the same with his abysmal social skills, as there was no one to talk to.
Hey, don't we count?! A protested.
Jaune gave him a flat look. No. You guys don't count as "people" he thought back. You're just voices in my head.
And that is more concerning that I let it be. Jaune considered before he stopped. There was movement up ahead. Jaune drew his hammer and knife as he slowly approached the movement.
As Jaunes' eyes adjusted to the damp darkness, the dreamer could make out what lay ahead.
A slug like leech about the size of a motorcycle clung to the ceiling, lying in wait for an ambush.
You're not going to get me this time. Jaune thought as he began to mutter a poem under his breath. A small thing, describing the snowfall on a mountain day, and how the icicles grew from the shingles of the landing. If you actually paid attention to the words, it made no actual sense, jumping to dragon fangs to ghosts to bitter slivers of moonlight. Very little of the spells did, it seemed.
The bolt of frost conjured from the spoken words shot out like a bullet. Striking the slimy leech, the thing fell to the ground with a splash. Jaune moved forward, intending to not let the leech slug recover its senses. The hammer dropped onto the squishy thing's head, pulverizing through the flesh and into its equivalent of a brain.
Surely they had brains, right?
Jaune looked down at the exploded sack of muscle and slug flesh at his feet. They clearly didn't have any skull, or any other bones for that matter.
Perhaps they didn't, like jellyfish. Jellyfish don't have brains, and look where they are now.
Perhaps some hope for my BBC colleagues. A said in a faux british accent.
Jaune titled his head. What in the world is a BBC? He asked
B shrugged as the three of them continued on. Well, really just Jaune.
Jaune sighed, letting his head fall back as he looked up that damp dark sewer pipe ceiling.
"Oh, to sleep, to dream. Something something, the sweet release of death." Jaune sighed, only vaguely remembering a middle school play he was a part of a long time ago. Not as an actor, but rather as a stagehand.
He liked it. He was given directions, was largely ignored, and felt useful.
Man, simpler times.
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.—Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd. B quoted. That's the quote. Not To sleep, to dream, something, something the sweet release of death, you twat. B huffed angrily.
Whatever you say, literature snob. A snorted with an eye roll.
Jaune rolled his head forward as he started to move again. He slowed, moving his legs so as to not make noise.
His head tilted.
He was hearing a shifting sound. Like gears and grinding metal.
"Do you hear that?" Jaune said out loud, his voice bouncing and echoing down the sewer pipe. Jaune let his voice die out. The soft cranking sound returned to his ears
"The sound of machines!" he cried out with joy. There was something besides the sound of wind and gurgling blood in this forsaken place! Some sign of sentient life, not drunken and rambling! Jaune started sprinting towards the sound of machinery, splashing with wanton abandon.
He turned a corner, seeing that the sewer pipe led to a massive chamber. The floor stretched out to be some kind of pier. At the end of it there was this massive spire of soot stained iron, cracks of forge hot glowing orange spewing from it's seams and internal machinery. The sewer pier, spilling water down its sides, led straight to a kind of circular conveyor belt. Behind it is a mechanical… thing hung, extruded from the massive spire-machine. It reminded Jaune of GLADOS, or perhaps the Starcraft 2 Colossus portrait. A singular limb of metal sticking out from a concave crevice behind the conveyor belt. The several ball and socket joints gave the thing movement, much like a snake or an octopus tentacle. Jaune approached with an excited caution.
Holy god, this thing was massive. It was easily the size of a barn, if not larger. Jaune assumed that the column the thing rested on was also part of it.
Scratch that, that put it up to four barns now.
"Wow, you are a big boy." jaune said, stopping in front of the conveyor belt. The tendril whirled, turning to look at the newcomer. Jaune looked at the mechanical thing in the eye, the aperture of the machine's camera twisting and focusing. Jaune heard the familiar sound of something booting up. His head tilted down as he saw a screen flicker to life. It was black with an orange analog text contrasting brightly.
"I am AFDA, Automated Forge and Design Algorithm. How may I help you?"
Jaune blinked. He put his fingers on the keyboard.
"Where, am, I?" Jaune muttered as he typed it out.
You know you could check the map. B supplied.
"Yeah, but that's not what I want to know, B." Jaune muttered.
"You are at AFDA site PRIME 1, in the Eternal City." AFDA responded.
'There are more of these sites in The Dream?' Jaune typed out.
" 'The Dream' Location not found. There are several locations in the Realm. Would you like me to list them?"
Jaune very much considered it. 'Could you put them on my map?' Jaune typed.
" term My Map not found. If you would like, I could print you a map with locations of AFDA sites."
Jaune considered it. He would check that out later. "What else can you do?" Jaune asked, his fingers making the tell tale clicking sound of a keyboard.
"AFDA's primary goal is the creation of mechanical tools."
Cool. 'Do you have anything in stock?'
"Searching…. There are (2) Trickshift weapons in stock. Are you here to pick them up?"
Jaune blanked. Was it stealing if no one was ever going to use it?
'Yes.' jaune typed. The machine whirred as the conveyor belt cranked as two cloth wrapped items rolled into view. Jaune carefully unfolded the right one first. Two oversized butcher knifes lay crossed. The tops were oddly designed with groves and ridges, and a seam cut through the vertical center of both blades.
Now, Jaune was no mechashift weapon expert, but he had spent enough time as a Huntsman to recognize a mechashift weapon when he saw one, even if it was a simple one.
"You know, those two grooves seem like they would fit together perfectly, don't they?" jaune said out loud, as he held the two blades out in front of him. They were very weighty, probably made out of a heavier metal.
Jaune put the top edges of the two blades together, letting them click. The two seams in the blade lined up, and the front half separated, sliding down. Now, normally, this part of the blade would attach to the left handed blade's handle and act to extend the knives into a greatsword.
However, there was an issue. Jaune's fingers were in the way. So the blade simply closed in on the digits, painfully pinching them.
"Ow, Fuck!" jaune yelped as he dropped the heavy blade, cradling and violently shaking his hand. His hand stung a burning read as he looked down at the fully shifted weapon.
A massive blocky sword lay half submerged in the water. It reminded him of one of the weapons team… CFVY? Coffee? Yeah, coffee used. Yatsu. Yeah, his name was Yatsu, wasn't it?
That sounded right. Jaune bent down to pick up the blade. It was, in its simplest term, a large sharp metal rectangle on a stick.
Jaune hefted it, his arms straining to properly wield the heavy blade. The back side rested on his shoulder as he turned away from the machine. He gave it a couple experimental swings, going through a side, side down pattern.
Jaune gave a huff, lamenting how incredibly heavy the weapon was. Jaune returned the weapon with a crack into its original form, breaking the weapon over his knee. Rewrapping the heavy weapon, it joined everything else in his pack. Turning to the second wrapping, Jaune carefully removed the cloth covering.
It was a rather thin long sword in its sheath. The handle had a lever sticking out of the crossguard, looking like some kind of finger guard. Clearly, this was the chosen mechanism for the weapons 'Trickshift' mechanics. Jaune grasped the sword, pulling it out of the scabbard.
Jaune was surprised when the blade bent, as though he was pulling out a limp noodle. Upon a second look, the core of the blade was a kind of metal rope, with segments of the blade.
Oh. it's a whip. Jaune understood. He dropped the sheath, letting the entire whip fall. It was long as a snake, about four feet or so. Jaune grasped the lever, and the cord retracted into the handle, forcing the segments of the sword to connect and form into a proper blade. Jaune gave this blade a couple of swings as well. It was light, much lighter than Caroca Mors or his current blade was. Jaune returned it to its sheath, attaching the weapon to his belt.
He would have a lot of fun learning these two. He never had a real mechashift weapon before. Sure, Caroca Mors had the sheath-shield, but did that really count?
Yeah, Jaune didn't think so. Thanking AFDA, Jaune exited the platform, walking down a set of stairs flooded by the overflowing water from the pier. Taking out his map, Jaune saw that there was a new section of the sewers labeled. AFDA Warsat Prime.
Jaune put the map away, continuing his meandering. Judging by the map, he was heading towards the first entrance that he found by the Warden's Keep.
Crossing some more leech-slugs, he made himself familiar with the whip sword.
Whip Sword is kind of a shitty name. It needs something cool. Kind of romantic, kind of gothic, you know? A quipped as Jaune retracted the whip into it's blade form. The four corpses of the sewer variety of the shambling drunk sank into the sewer muck behind him.
Jaune had decided that he disliked being in the sewers. The monsters here could poison him with their natural toxins, it stunk, it was slippery, and there were no gravesites.
So, all in all a bad place to be.
You're right, A. Jaune agreed as he looked down at his trick shift weapon. "You do need a name." The ranger decided.
Jaune ran his brain through some good sword names, but nothing seemed to stick. Byulpyr, Drunk Slayer, black star, and Somber Tone were only a small taste of the ones thrown out.
How about Glassvain? B suggested.
Jaune considered it. Where did you get glassvain from? Is it a literature reference I have forgotten?
Nah. I don't know.
Jaune shrugged as he looked at it. "Glassvain. I like it." Jaune nodded. "Glassvain." he repeated, satisfied with how it rolled off the tongue.
Jaune took the moment of peace to check his important inventory. Namely, his stock of consumable magic alcohol.
"Awe, damn." he muttered. "I'm running low on health booze."
Could we please not call it "health Booze" B pleaded. Jaune gave B a tired look.
"I'm stuck in a world without time, whenever I go to sleep, that is completely devoid of sentient life and the very streets ran red with blood wine. I will call the ashes that are left over whatever the hell I want to." he stated, his voice leaving no room for counter argument behind.
He climbed a set of stairs that brought him to the elevator by the Warden's Keep.
Jaune started to hum as the metal cylinder ascended upwards. "You know, perhaps it is time I paid the Good Doctor a visit." he said, palming the handle of his blade.
Ohhh boy. A sighed with a tired kind of exasperation. Here we go again.
Jaune kicked open the doors of the Ward, where the plague doctor still scuttled, checking his long dead patients for any change in their state of death. "Hey Doc!" Jaune called out. "Guess who's back!"
The plague doctor looked up. "Ahh, the sickly returns, knowing that there is nowhere else to find treatment?" he crowed. Jaune shook his head, pulling out Glassvain in its sword mode.
"Nah, just repaying the favor I owe you." he said, partially in a cheerful banter, but mostly in a challenged anger. "After all, I can chalk up a whole lot of my death to you."
The doctor gave a tired sigh. "I suppose I will have to subdue yet another patient. But don't worry. I'll be sure to fix up whatever i break." he said as he pulled out his bone saw. Jaune hunched down in a combat stance, already plotting his first set of attacks.
He would advance with a jab, following it with his knife. Using that as a pivot point, Jaune would be free to dodge back for the three set flurry that the Doctor would retaliate with. His whip could probably outrange the Doctors saw, so getting in some chip damage with that was a good option. Jaune knew that he wasn't very experienced with the whip aspect, but he had mucked around enough to get the basics down. He wasn't about to hit himself with his own whip, if that was the fear.
No jaune. The fear is that we are biting off way more than we can chew. B responded dryly and Jaune charged. Blade first, which drove itself into a glancing blow. Knife followed, was deflected with the Doctors off hand, and jaune saw the retaliation blow coming. He bent backwards to avoid the swipe, and rolled away from the follow up. With a small huff, Jaune released the level on his handle once more.
Jaune engaged Glassvain's whip form once he was right on his feet from the roll. The blade swung, almost taunting the doctor as it nicked and slashed against the Plague Doctor. . The doctor marched forward as jaune retreated, giving more and more ground to keep him out of the Doctor's saw range. Step by step, Jaune moved backwards, trying to fend off the creature. he knew that he was fast approached the wall behind him. He would soon have to make a play. Perhaps he should circle to the side, and keep the Doctor just in whips range?
no. The room was a massive rectangle, essentially. it was a lot longer than it was wider. Spells? Bombard him with Frostbolt? Perhaps. Jaune really would have preferred to keep a decent amount of energy, mana? Jaune didn't know. It felt more like energy than he thought mana would. Jaune would prefer to save most of his mana for Jumps, a rather intensive spell. Jaune glanced up as he saw the doctor lower his Bone Saw from his normal striking stance.
The doctor raised his free hand, the sickly tar black energy gathering around it.
Jaune knew this trick. The doctor would charge for roughly a half second, then dash forward with a poisonous energy approximately seven meters or so. A prime opportunity to engage rule number four:
Stab them in the sphincter.
B groaned in physical pain at that. I thought we agreed we weren't doing this any more.
A laughed at such arrogance. Jaune rolled to the side as the Doctor lunged. Thrusting his sword out, jaune implemented combat rule number four: Blast them in the Butt.
You have rules of combat? B asked. And at least four of them, no less.
Jaune made a face of someone who clearly did not have four rules of combat.
Oh my god. B groaned. You're a dumbass.
Jaune took offence to that. I was going to come up with them eventually. Jaune countered as he saw the Doctor start to lean forward.
You'll want to roll out of that. A said. It's poisonous, remember
Tell me something I don't know Jaune responded with a bite of sarcasm as he crouched lightly, ready to dive to the side.
The doctor suddenly lunged forward, attempting to grab Jaune as it had so many times before, delivering the sick boy some medicine.
Jaune rolled to the side, turning with his whip to deliver a punishing blow to the doctors back. The doctor turned quickly, leaping forward the several feet that separated them with a spinning attack.
Jump. A called as the doctor spun to retaliate. Jaune dissolved into ash and vapor as the blade cut through him. Jaune reappeared behind him, his back facing his foe. jaune took Glassvain, his hand grasping its lever firmly, and stabbed under his armpit. The front of Glassvain broke through The Doctors white cape, staining it further in the dark black red blood.
"You're a slippery sickly boy, aren't you?" The doctor crowed looking down at the blade sticking out of his gut.
Jaune whipped Glassvain out of the Doctor, letting go of the lever to allow the blade to fall limp. And much like ripping a towel off a rack, the segmented whip imbedding inside the Doctors body flew out of it, ripping apart the left side of the thing with it. "Yeah yeah, you need some better quips. I've heard that one a thousand times." he said as a bolt of frost shot at the doctor. The doctor shouldered the magical blast. With a grunt, the doctor leaped, smashing his saw into the ground.
And Jaune. An important factor of the consequences of this attack. Jaune felt the wind get knocked out of him as his collarbone cracked under the impact and his shoulder muscles pierced by the teeth of the saw. The doctor stepped back, making sure to drag the serrated tooth to rip apart the supporting arm muscle.
Jaune stumbled back, bleeding from the shoulder. "Well then, that's new." he muttered, entering melee with the bone wielding plague doctor. he quickly pulled out a bottle that contained a miniscule amount of spirit, simultaneously deflecting the follow up strike from the doctor that had swung for his thigh. Jaune greedily swallowed a mouthful of the healing alcohol. he threw the bottle at the Doctor, who held up his off hand to block it. it shattered, temporarily stunning and blinding the Doctor. Jaune took his chance, and charged with Glassvain, holding it with two hands.
Jaune slashed with a downward stroke, but it was blocked with the Doctors off hand. Jaune quickly adjusted his blade to push away the Doctor's bone saw. The doctor swung again, and Jaune stepped back.
Seeing an opportunity for free damage, Jaune threw his knife at the Doctor. It flew true, striking the thing in the eye of his mask. The glass lens shattered as the blade drove itself into the Doctor's eye.
There was a sudden pulsing burst as blood as black as haggis poured out of the wound. The doctor stumbled with the impact, teetering slightly. He reached to the handle, feeling the intruding object.
With a rough grasp, the doctor pulled the dagger out of his face. Jaune winced as it made a squelching sound.
"You know, that really should have killed you." Jaune said as he watched the doctor rub his blood over his bone saw, coating it in a radiating oozing black aura, much like his lunge attack.
"But I'm getting used to the whole 'Undying Monster' thing that's going on." Jaune sighed as the Doctor made a flourish.
I can't help but feel that we are in some deep fucking shit. A commented as the one eyed Doctor leveled his gaze at Jaune.
Jaune couldn't help but feel inclined to agree.
He was, indeed, in some deep fucking shit.
Hello! I hope you liked this chapter, I'm trying to get better at fight scenes
anyway, please leave a review, I enjoy reading them. Bonus points for theory crafting, they're probably better than what I have planned.
We only have a few chapters before Jaune makes it to Haven, so hang in there.
also, if you have any constructive critic on my writing style, I would apricate it.