"Not caring for their lives, is it? Why, what in the world should we care for if it's not our lives, the only gift the Lord never offers us a second time? Alas, dear God! You're right all the same, they don't care! I can remember them in '70, in those wretched wars, they've no fear of death left in them(...)they're not men anymore, they're lions."
―Marcel Proust, C.K. Scott Moncrieff, Journalist in the Franco Prussian war and in this timeline journalist in the Grimm wars
Remnant/ Mount Glenn/ 3rd person POV
The appearance of such a strange object as the Gate instantly drew the attention of the thousands of Grimm infesting the city. The large roman like Gate itself had been located in lower Mount Glenn keeping it safe from the prying eyes of any Huntsman. Exploration of the lower levels of the former capital of Vale was deemed too risky to ascertain.
The Mount Glenn was a symbol of death across Remnant. It had come to no surprise it was host to the largest amount of Grimm in all of Remnant outside of Salems palace. Yet the Gates reach was farther than Mount Glenn. At first it was simply a small notice. Lack of Grimm attacks or Grimm attacks being smaller than usual. By the time such a stark difference was noticed it had become clear to all parties in Remnant that all the Grimm in the Vale were being draw to Mount Glenn in force.
The opening of the Gate sent ripples throughout the Grimm subsequence. For a brief moment they broke free from Salems grip. Bloodlust consumed the dark creature's mind. The smell of life coming from the other side of the gate was to great to ignore. More life and negative emotions than remnant itself peered through that Gate.
They fell back to their animalistic side and threw the yolk off the hivemind like state Salem had put them into. They tried and failed to resist the urge. Too much life on the other side to ignore. The pull was all too great. The first Grimm to rush out of the gate were greeted by fertile and lush fields teeming with life.
Farmers of the humble nation of Luxembourg going about their day and selling crops to the local French and German soldiers which passed by. Cattle eating from the lush grass and getting their fill before winter came. The cold autumn wind also greeted these creatures of death.
So the slaughter began. Within hours most of Luxembourg was in flames and had become a dead zone. Hundreds of thousands of Grimm spread about the small nation slaughtering its inhabitants down to the man. Any French and German military patrol in the area shopping was killed off before a warning could be given.
To the inhabitants of the small nation the gates of hell might have as well opened.
All this butchery was not to go unnoticed for long though.
Prussia/Near the Prussian Luxembourg border/ October 9th/ 1 day into the Grimm invasion/ 1869/ Lt Adalberht Elric POV
"Mein Gott" was all I could say.
The fields across the border into Luxembourg were burning. Hot fire spread across the once beautiful farmland of the small little country. I signaled to the light Cavalry detachment under my command to halt. We were part of the light lancers to be specific. Alongside us road a company of Hussar's.
"What do you recon it is." The Captain Frans Fritz asked.
Ah yes, the question on everyone minds. What was going on. The fire spread out as far as the eye could see and had crossed into our border soon enough. The Lancers under my command gripped their lances nervously while the detachments flag bearer who had the flag of our glorious nation hosted on his spear looked on with a blank face at the burning fields. The flag bearer seemed to have life flashing before his eyes.
For good reason. His mistress lived in Luxembourg.
I gently handed my lance off to one of my men to hold briefly as grabbed my binoculars from my army satchel. I gently brought them to my face and stares off into what might have been oblivion. The fires continued to burn now reaching the forest line along part of the section of the border. I then brought my binoculars down.
"Whatever it is, it is not normal by any means. You and your Hussars Report this into command. We're going to need a fire brigade asap unless we want this fire to reach our camp." I said calmly.
The Captain of the Hussar company nodded thoughtfully before raising an eyebrow and asking "Should we telagraph the French about this."
Of course. The blasted fucking French. They probably already knew about this.
"The French most likely have seen the fires as well. I seriously doubt they haven't considered our border, Frances, and Luxembourg's intersections just 4 kilometers away (2 miles)." I state as a matter of fact calmly.
The Hussar company Captain nodded once more. I put my Binoculars back in my satchel and opened the palm of one of my hands. The lancer next to me who had taken my lance handed it back to me in good fashion. I gently nodded in a gentle and polite thanks to the man under my command before once again taking up a calm and stoic posture.
"I implore you to report this to the General Staff back at camp. A fire, especially one as large as this is a risk. I'll say here with my detachment and keep watch." I said and slightly begged the Hussar Captain.
"Sounds good Lt. I'll be off. Expect my return or a fire brigade to arrive in around 1 hour, 2 at most." The captain said as he signaled his Hussars to reform ranks. The rode off into the sunset in a semi dramatic fashion back towards camp.
"Show off." I muttered.
France/ Prussia/ Luxembourg/ Roughly around the same time/ Village of Perl/ roughly at the Franco-Luxembourg-Prussian border
The village of Perl sits at a unique spot. A small chunk of it is in France, 1 quarter in Luxembourg, and the rest in Prussia or modern-day Germany.
As the sun finally sinks below the horizon and the trees, the whole of Perl beings to settle down for the evening. Shops close their doors while the lights inside are lit, the families inside sitting down to meals. The foot traffic at the inn in the center of town increases in traffic as outside traders and visitors head there for a meal and board; the music increases in volume along with the sounds of chatter, as the smells of cooked foot wafts into the air.
It is a jovial attitude of a bustling town at ease.
But underneath all that joy and fun, a feeling of unease sets in. Especially when the rumble of far-off thunder sets off again. Underneath a clear and starry sky. Howl not so dissimilar to a wolfs howls are also heard nearby.
"There's that thunder again." A farmhand says as he looks up from his pint glass of beer.
"And those howls." Another says nervously.
"Without a cloud in the sky and not a flash of lightning?" Another farmhand growls out as he puts his fork down heavily against the table. "Grow some brains, you little soft shit. It's probably gun fire from a skirmish between the French and Prussian army bastards; I swear by God and Jesus Christ there are times when those two armies can't stop shooting at each other from across the border." He then pauses before continuing.
"Also, what the hell are wolves doing this close to the village. I thought the French and Prussian had shot any wolves wandering along the border or near it. Also, it's not like we are in the middle of the wilderness so what would wolves be doing here anyways?"
"You think the thunder is from the French and Germans?" A shopkeeper says incredulously. "Like they'd do anything insane enough to start a war. Especially start skirmishes inside Luxembourg's borders."
And so, the men, in the manner of those who have left work, have their bellies filled and so have less of a care in the world, begin to argue back and forth over their own theories of what is causing the thunder to the north-east in the direction of Luxembourg paying little head to the howling.
It is not a loud or particularly forceful argument, but it is an argument that is easily heard by many people in the inn. And it is a topic that unnerves many people. The unknown and the unknowable are the simplest things to cause fear in a person. Even the most strong-willed individual can fall victim to the most powerful of human emotion, the one emotion that above all else can cripple a person almost entirely: fear.
For, like moths to a flame, fear attracts the creatures of Grimm.
Away from the lights of Perls houses and away from the prying but unkeen eyes of its sentries, a band of Beowolves stalk the boundaries of the sections of the farm fields and forests not burning. They stalk at the western edge of the farmland around the town. Grimm are never far from any human civilization on Remnant, their innate nature; the desire to destroy any vestiges of mankind's, to render humans and Faunus apart with their teeth, claws and talons, to sow fear and destruction in their path, driving them to seek out and attack settlements in the wild.
The main cities on Remnant are behind them. Walls too stout, too many guns, too many Huntsmen. A dream for all Grimm, if Grimm could dream. To tear down those abominations in the eyes of darkness and cast them to ruin, that is the ultimate end goal for the Grimm across the world, on every continent. As directed by their dark mistress. Such darkness however is now aimed at this new world. Earth.
The band of Beowolves pace back and forth aggressively, their innate desire to destroy and despoil brimming at the fore of their instinct. Standing the height of a full-grown man, the sixteen beowolves are only juveniles. Their skulls are rounded, and the only spikes of white armor against their black fur is on their backs, forearms and biceps, which hang almost to the floor in the slouching posture. A grotesque fusion of humanoid and wolf, their juveniles snap and snarl at each other, their tempers growing thin at the lack of movement.
One of them approaches the treeline, down on all fours, wanting to launch itself out of the woods and against the village. A sharp, low growl of warning stops it in its tracks, causing it to slink backwards, chastised.
The one that issued the growl is an Alpha beowolf. It is twice the height of the others, its form more armored and deadly, while its head more closely resembles that of a predatory canine: long snout, with powerful snapping muscles and brutally sharp rending canines. Its face, white as bleached bone, red lines on the brow and sides leading to baleful yellow eyes, is notched and scarred from the weapons of various Huntsmen and hunters. Each notch is a mark that it has survived each encounter, and each one tells that it has slain many.
As a Grimm ages, its intellect increases. It learns, it adapts. It remembers to avoid certain sounds, which then leads it to avoid certain weapons and how to overcome their weaknesses. It remembers scents; the scent of gun-oil, machine lubricant and dust, all signs of armed humans, which also remembers it to remember the scents of the defenceless ones. Their hide becomes tougher, armour growing heavier, while their claws and teeth becomes sharper.
As they grow, they become deadlier.
The Alpha looks at the towns. To its curiosity it lacks the walls most villages like those in Remnant would have. This world to it seems initial peaceful feeble and weak due to the lack of defenses in each village and town he and the pack rampage across. The world it sees through its eyes is monochrome, shades of black, grey and white that change with the time of day and position. When it was younger, it was difficult to make out the shapes of farmhouses, fences and walls. All were just fuzzy forms. But now, in its evolved state, it can see each detail more clearly, each form becoming clearer year after year of hunting. As it raises itself to its full height to see more clearly, it can see the approach from the woods to the walls, past a few small farmhouses. It's a straight path.
They appear as shifting red forms in the Alphas sight. Each one a baleful red, each one it sees driving the killing urge in its predatory brain higher and higher. It bares its teeth to the open air, clawed forelimbs flexing as muscles in its hindlegs coil in readiness.
But it waits. The time is not right.
In its sight, it seems three humans. Even through the distance, probably three-hundred meters or so, it is greeted by all sorts of foreign smells. In particular and strong one. One of the Humans is holding what seems to be a sorry excuse of a rifle. Even if all three were armed, they would be no contest for the Alpha.
But it knows. It knows the ways of its prey. It knows that if three humans see it approach, then they would all open fire on it, while the alarm would be sounded, and the attack would be wasted. The Alpha would survive, no doubt about that, but the others would perish, and the town would remain. However, it is tempting to still assault the town. These towns in these strange new lands are weaker than in those of the old world despite being better built.
So, it waits. It bides its time.
Around it, the other Beowolves become more anxious, but they stay in place. The desire to destroy clings to the Alpha, so they are drawn to it. The leader of the pack, they take direction from it. So, they wait too.
Two of the figures move away from the third one, walking away to the right.
Without a growl or a snarl, the Alpha lunges forward, its powerful hindlimbs propelling it forward as it gallops straight towards the unlucky human.
"Hm, oh mein Gott! Erbarme dich!" The human screams in an unknown language as it is devoured before it can properly alert the villagers.
Silently, the Alpha moves onto the town itself. A fact that is unnoticed to the humans but clearly seen to the others. They all see the next action as the Alpha smashes a mighty paw against a drunken human sleeping by a fence, smashing its upper body to rags and smashing the fence.
The juveniles charge. They bay, they snort, they snarl as they charge towards the town. Some jump over the farmers fences, some just smash through them. But they head towards the inner town.
Behind the pack is a group of large Ursa, six creatures strong, the mighty, stout predators lumbering out of the woods on the heels of the Beowolves.
On the wall, what the Grimm assume to be two human guards hear the commotion outside, and they panic. They panic as they see the twin packs heading towards their town. They panic when they see the Alpha beowolf charge across the wall-top at them. They ready their weapons, weapons that have not seen much use outside of the practice range outside of hunting. These guns are not like those of the old world or those that use dust. The smell of the gun and its components is completely foreign to the Grimm.
One of the guns fires, a loud bang, louder than anything a dust round or gun can produce rips the night air apart. The other gun then fires. Some of the juveniles are stopped by the sheer noise the gun produces. Two the projectiles of the gun ripe through one of the Beowolfs carapaces and lodge themselves in its skin. It is not a killing shot but it greatly pains and annoys the Beowolf. Whatever projectiles these humans use it is stronger than your average dust round.
The Alpha Beowolf roars as it lunges at the pair, jaws wide open and claws outstretched. It guts the first once as it slices the man's intestines open before another Beowolf bites a chunk of the other man's rib cage off before eating the man alive.
"Fick dich! Du mutiertes Wolfsding..." The man being eaten by the Alpha weaky mutters before he fades from life
Then the destruction of Perl begins.
Perl/ Luxembourg/ France/ Germany/ French side of the village/ October 9th/ 1869/ Claudette's POV
She doesn't know which event wakes her up. And Claudette's probably never will. The start of that night was so tumultuous that, in her mind, all the sounds of the start blended together to form one noise. One cacophonous, horrendous noise.
The gunfire inside the town, the howling and roaring of something truly demonic, the screams of the townspeople caught in the attack. Or her own parents barging into her room, wild-eyed and fearful, her mother armed with an old flintlock and her father with his old Minie rifle in his hand. The rifle he used to use when he served in Crimea.
All of those noises wake her from her sleep. And awake her to the horrible night.
"Claudette!" Her mother cries out as she rushes to her bed, her daughter jerking up violently from her sleep.
"Momma! Wha-what's going on?" Claudette asks, as she looks around in worry.
"There's no time, dear. We need to go. Now!" Her mother replies sharply as she pulls out some clothes from the drawers and pass them to her. "Get dressed, quickly!"
Her father tightly clutches his rifle before gently opening the window in her room and taking aim with it. He fires it as part of the room is filled in a puffy white smoke. He swiftly then begins to reload it as he pushes a bullet into it by hand and then struggles to place the black powder in.
Claudette opens her mouth to cough due to the smoke, but a series sort bursts of musket and rifle fire goes off somewhere nearby before it is quickly silenced. The young French girl drops sharply in fright as she hears a loud cry come out close by.
"Momma…" She croaks out in fright, clutching her blanket close to her chest.
A pair of hands take hold of her shoulders, and she turns to look at the face of her father, fear evident in his eyes, however he quickly reverts to what she calls playfully his soldier mode. He served in a war called the Crimean war before she was born, fighting the Russians.
"It'll be all right, sweetie." He says steadily as he steadies his musket. "Just… just stay with us."
Claudette nods her head before she gets out of her bed and starts putting on the clothes chosen for her. They aren't her favorite blue dress, but she's too scared to ask about it. The noises outside are terrifying and they make her head flip around as she tries to figure out where each noise is coming from. She doesn't understand what's going on, and she no matter how hard she tries, she can't. It's all so confusing to her mind.
But what's more confusing is that her mother is walking around the house with her gun. After all the times she has been told never to touch the gun that hangs on the wall, after all the times that Claudette has seen her mom carefully handle the gun inside the house. To see her holding the flintlock ready while she looks out of the window is disturbing.
"What's… what's happening, momma?" She asks after she pulls her top over her head.
Claudette's mother looks at her, a strange smile on her face. "A bad thing, sweety. A bad thing."
As they dash out of the house, Claudette's baulks at what she sees around her. The air has become thick with fear and death, combined with a pall of smoke from numerous flames that have sprung up as houses have become demolished and set alight, the former blotting out the moonlight while the latter sends the town into a horrible play of shadows.
Screams and cries echo from everywhere at once as Carmen is carried out of the house in her father's arms, her mother close behind. The eight-year old looks around, trying to figure out what's happening, to try and see what's going. Against the lights of the flames, she sees people dashing to and from, backlit against the flames. And there are… other forms. Animals, but not quite animals, snapping and snarling in the gloom.
As her parents carry her down the street, Claudette can't understand what's going on around her. The normally peaceful town is now filled with pandemonium. She sees a man getting his back eaten by several small black creatures while a larger one swipes a women into a house sending her crashing through the walls.
She can't process what she's seeing because it breaks every thought and every truth she has been told about her home. She had thought and been told that monsters didn't exist yet they did. They were real and they were terrifying. The sounds of another creature crashing through a house and the occupants screams shattered the night air even more.
"Papa, Momma," She whispers out as her parent's duck into the cover of a buildings wall. "I'm scared."
Being careful not to hit her with her pistol, her mom reaches over and gently brushes her hair as he tries to soothe her.
"It's okay, sweetie. It's okay. We'll be okay."
The sharp crack of a musket makes both of them flinch, Claudette screaming out in shock, as her dad steps out from the corner of the building and fires his musket down the street. He then swiftly reloads and fires two more times covering her and Mom as they run across the street, each shot earning a roar of pain from whatever he was shooting at.
"There's got to be up to twenty of those hells pawn!" One of the neighbors calls out as he fires off shots from his rifle to support father. The two then dash down the street towards them.
"I think there are more than twenty." Her Dad says nervously before he starts praying
"Nombres 6:24-26 Que l'Éternel te bénisse et me garde ! Que l'Éternel fasse briller sa face sur moi et ait pitié de moi et de ma famille ! Que l'Éternel tourne sa face vers moi et donne la paix à mes compagnons!" He prays as we continue to try to exit the village.
A loud, echoing screech, a screech that goes right through the bones of the family and into their souls.
"Get down!" the neighbor cries out as he quickly grabs her and her family and drags them to the floor. As he does, a massive gust of window buffets them all. It smacks down the smoke and the flames, almost making a trench in the miasma, revealing for a moment the night sky, stars twinkling, and a blood red moon in the night sky shinning down upon them ominously.
"It's an invasion from hell, Oh lord save us." The neighbor mutters. "Que le Seigneur bénisse nos âmes et nous accorde le pardon." (May the lord bless our souls and grant us forgiveness)
The Blood Red Moon is soon obscured by a giant black mass of feathers and wings, topped by a giant white skull of a head.
Her eyes open in fright as she begins shivering again.
The avian creature screeches loudly again as it passes overhead, its wingspan enough to cover Claudette house easily. Each flap delivers a powerful down thrust that bludgeons the ground, sounding like the beat of doom itself.
Its giant heads swings back and forth as it looks for prey, its quartet of eyes scanning the town. It begins to turn as its eyes lock onto something.
The creature/ hell spawn completes the turn and begins to fly right towards Claudette and her family.
Her dad looks up in shock before aiming his rifle at it. The Neighbor does so as well. They fire up at that large Avian creature. Each round and musket ball they fire can easily put down a man or a deer in a single shot, but against a creature of this size, it's like spitting at a raging house fire.
The giant avian creature from hell keeps coming, claws outstretched and beak open, maw wide enough to swallow a person whole. Even as the two men stands their ground.
"You 3 go now! Move!" The Neighbor yells as he keeps firing. Claudette's mom scoops her up and carries her as her dad follows behind. As she looks back, she sees the giant bird thing pick the neighbor up and carrying him away as he screams. Once as high as the creature sees fit it drops the nieghbor down. His body slamming into a roof leaving a plastered bloodstain.
"We have to move. Now."
"Should we go to the river?" Her mom asked.
Her dad shrugs and shakes his head almost simultaneously as he looks around as they run. "I… I don't know. Maybe. That might be the best way out of here."
Nodding her head, Her Mom follows her husband as he leads them towards the edge of the town on the river. Most of the screams are coming from there, but with the growls coming from behind them increasing in volume, that seems to be the only direction to move in.
Shops and buildings they had all known, places they had visited and shopped at are either in flames or in ruins; windows smashed with glass strewn everywhere, walls caved in or smashed asunder while doors are simply removed or thrown aside. And then there's the bodies.
People that her families know and recognize, some that they don't, all lie on the stones of the ground square. None of them look peaceful in death; limbs that are attached to bodies lie at unnatural angles, while some are simply strewn around the place. Some bodies are torn, some are shredded, while some are close to unidentifiable. Some have weapons in hands or close-by, showing that they died defending themselves or others, while many do not.
Her dad covers her eyes as he whispers to her. "Don't look, sweetie."
She doesn't, as the sickly smell of death is enough to make her shake in fright. As they make their way past the town's well, a loud groan draws their attention, making her dad wave mom and her into cover.
It's the mayor who makes the blood chilling groans. He is prone on the ground, pulling himself across the ground with his elbows. His face is streaked with mud, tears and blood. His clothes are covered in soot and dirt and blood… more blood than her dad would expect. Until he sees what has happened to his left leg; torn away right at the ankle, his foot is missing, the lower part of his trouser leg soaked with blood.
"Mon Dieu..." Her dad mutters.
"Wait here." He says to his family, not taking his eyes off the wounded man. "I'm going to…"
The words die in his throat at what he sees emerge from the smoke behind the mayors prone form. It there is a nightmare given form, the beast prowling towards the injured man is it to a t. Thick, gangly arms of powerful, corded muscles lead down to two large paws that width of a man's torso, each one tipped with five brutal looking claws, each of which are currently dripping with mixed viscera of mud and blood. Going up, the arms lead to a thick simian-like torso, the size of a man by itself, wrapped in coal black fur and studded front and back with white plates and spines of bone for armor, almost like the skeleton is breaking and pushing through the skin itself.
Then there's the head. Like someone ripped out the skull of a wolf and supplanted it onto the head of an ape. Bone white, just like its spikes, except with red markings along the forehead and snout, and with a maw of brutal looking teeth which currently drip with saliva and blood. And its eyes. Each one is a baleful, glowing red that seems to shimmer as it moves from side to side, stalking towards Markus as he tried to hobble away.
He aims his musket at it slowly.
"Oh, God! Please! Someone, help me!"
Her dad instantly wishes he didn't see what happened next as the mayor screamed and begged for mercy.
The mayor is on his back, now completely missing his right arm above the elbow. Blood is pouring from the stump and it has soaked his clothes thoroughly, making him slip slightly as he tries to back away from the Alpha now towering over him.
The man's voice falls to a murmur in fear as he looks up at the large creature from hell. He thinks it's the trick of the light, but to him, it almost looks like the Hell spawn is smiling as it looms over the man. It raises a giant paw, swings it.
The mayor screams. It's not the dying screams of a man. No, that would too merciful, and the hell spawn clearly knowns no mercy. Each wet burble of a scream is punctuated with the sickening wet crack of a claw scything through flesh again and again and again.
Each blow, each scream makes her father flitch. He can't fire his rifle. He is paralyzed by pure horror. Claudette herself is too scared to even utter a word, but her fear of what she is hearing makes her pee herself into her father's arms. Not that there's anything that Hans can do, not with an apex predator nearby. So, she suffers through it quietly, just waiting for the sounds of animalistic torture to stop.
"We can't let them take her." Her father then says in a hushed voice as the large creature turns to them after finishing torturing the mayor.
Her mom reaches up and strokes her hair.
She looks past Claudette's head at the well behind them. A bucket sits on its side forlorn; a length of rope coiled beside it.
"We won't let them."
Taking Claudette in her hands, her mom strides purposefully towards the well while her father takes aim and fires a musket ball at the large creature
"Momma?"
"Claudette, sweety." She says as she picks up the bucket and places her daughter inside. It's a tight squeeze, so Claudette has to stand. "I want you to know that me and your father love you very much."
"Momma?" The young girl frowns in confusion. "What's happening? What are you doing?"
Understanding what his wife is doing, her father continues to try to distact the creature as it takes its oh sweet time approaching them. Her mom begins to lower her down the well
"Momma?! Papa!? Wait!"
The yowls and roars from the creature grow louder as the flames begin to dim.
The bucket gets lowered deeper into the well, Claudette crying out loudly for her parents.
"Please! I'll be a good girl, I promise!"
Her Mom feels hot tears streak down her cheeks as she helps her husband with the rope.
"You were the best girl. And we love you so, so much!" She cries out loudly, her down fully in grief unable to look her daughter in the eye as she lowers her. "And that's why we're doing this!"
"Momma!" Claudette cries out once more before she's fully engulfed by the shadows of the well, out of sight, and, more importantly, out of reach.
Despite her best efforts, her mom collapses into painful sobs at what she and her husband have just done. But it was the only thing they could do for their daughter.
"Holy lord; Lord and savoir Jesus Christ, and God, hear my prayer. Watch over my dear daughter in this hour. See her safe and keep her innocence and purity in life. Let her grow old and youthful, and let her days be filled with the happiness and bliss we tried to give her in our lives. Let her pass this night unsullied and in good health." Her dad prays
"Amen."
"I regret many things," Her Dad says as he readies his musket one last time, bringing the stock up to his shoulder. "But I don't regret meeting you, dear. Or bringing Claudette into the world. Just that it was this world she was born in." He says to his wife.
"Agreed." She curtly responds as she aims her Flintlock at the large creature as it gets closer.
The beast begins to lope closer and closer now only just 10 meters away.
"I love you." He says to his wife as the creature breaks into a run.
The pair open fire.