• The site has now migrated to Xenforo 2. If you see any issues with the forum operation, please post them in the feedback thread.
  • Due to issues with external spam filters, QQ is currently unable to send any mail to Microsoft E-mail addresses. This includes any account at live.com, hotmail.com or msn.com. Signing up to the forum with one of these addresses will result in your verification E-mail never arriving. For best results, please use a different E-mail provider for your QQ address.
  • For prospective new members, a word of warning: don't use common names like Dennis, Simon, or Kenny if you decide to create an account. Spammers have used them all before you and gotten those names flagged in the anti-spam databases. Your account registration will be rejected because of it.
  • Since it has happened MULTIPLE times now, I want to be very clear about this. You do not get to abandon an account and create a new one. You do not get to pass an account to someone else and create a new one. If you do so anyway, you will be banned for creating sockpuppets.
  • Due to the actions of particularly persistent spammers and trolls, we will be banning disposable email addresses from today onward.
  • The rules regarding NSFW links have been updated. See here for details.

Sneaking His Way into the Multiverse (RWBY Jaune, WC-lite mechanics)

The aura unlock just not working is definitely the best outcome for them.

Also tattletale having a weakness to darksouls bullshit illusions is funny.
Interesting to add with the immortality option. It's obviously something they could buy and would find appealing. Having a couple examples of why it wouldn't be good in the long run would be valuable. I feel the need to point out the opposite also exists. The main example I can think of is Hob Gabling from Sandman. A really interesting guy given immortality and every 100 years he meets with Dream and given the opportunity to die. He's interesting because even when he goes through the worst years imaginable he still chooses to live.

All in all great chapter
 
Since the Darksign is a thing it could just stop the attempt by eating the aura Jaune tries to use and it ends there. What with it eating the soul of the human to fuel the First Flame, and that is why they go hollow.

That's probably the best possible outcome for a failure.
 
Last edited:
You know… the more and more I read this the more disturbed I become about the whole waifu catalog bs. That's not to say I wasn't already, god knows I was already disgusted by that thing whose name I already forgot, but that this 'fandom' exists is just… disturbing and disheartening.
Eh, not sure what you expected, given where we are. It's like stepping into a coal mine and being surprised that it's dark. Be happy that you can still occasionally find diamonds like this.
 
Eh, not sure what you expected, given where we are. It's like stepping into a coal mine and being surprised that it's dark. Be happy that you can still occasionally find diamonds like this.

In my defense, I didn't know that waifu catalog existed until this story so.... yeah. At least I didn't enter by reading what I assume to be the more traditional storyline.
 
Chapter 17: Jaune and Tattletale Want to Ring that Bell New
The heat of the furnace cast the room in a warm glow, almost unbearably so. The steady clang-clang of a hammer striking metal was accompanied by the occasional growl coming from the direction of the stairs leading below, and a shaking as something large prowled around. Were one to descend those steps, they would encounter a headless demon born of stone. Harmless, the blacksmith of the forge called it, so long as no person disturbed its domain.

Aside from the blacksmith—Andre, a stocky man of unkempt hair and beard—the room hosted a number of visitors. A staircase led upward and on the top steps sat Tattletale, who preferred the cool air of the nearby open doorway as she observed the scene. At the bottom, Jaune stood leaning on a wall, arms crossed and a little smile on his face; he was listening to the conversation between Solaire and the blacksmith.

The two men hailed from the same kingdom, and each had heard of the other. Their meeting revealed much of their home, Astora. To Jaune, it resembled a storybook, with kings and queens, beautiful princesses and questing knights. The people there liked their humor a tad dark, though the jokes were by no means malicious. Laughter came easy to them.

"...just like a pig-wrestling bout at a village fair, I tell you," Solaire said, slapping his knee in mirth. "Complete with the screaming and falling off at the end!"

"A lunatic, then. Same as all the others." Andre shook his head in exasperation, but could not quite hide the grin.

"No, no, do not misunderstand. The tactic succeeded, and he escaped with his life beside. What would you call him? Inspired, I say," insisted Solaire.

He was something, alright. Jaune broke out in cold sweat, remembering the encounter.

/​

Man and pig screamed at each other from a distance of inches.

The buildings blurred as the sharp-tusked boar sped by, bigger than a car, and as fast as one too. Armored from snout to tail, the beast was an unstoppable juggernaut, thundering hooves bringing it ever closer to the shut portcullis behind which resided a cathedral.

Not that the boar realized it. Those red eyes, overcome with hate and hunger, were trained on the persistent nuisance that was Jaune Arc clinging onto its face, using its tusks as handholds. Hollowed soldiers manning the parapets above rained down arrows and rocks on them both, going ignored as their staring contest raged on.

The clash of will culminated with Jaune blinking first, blanching upon recalling what awaited at his back and that he was probably a second away from impact. To save himself, he leapt upward, and the armored boar triumphantly tossed its head to whack him with a tusk, sending him cartwheeling through the air. Its gaze then turned forward, and what followed was a squeal of utter surprise, a resounding crash of metal on metal, a busted gate, and an even more busted pig. Oh, plus a Jaune caught out in the open as every Hollow there now had a free shot at him.

What a great plan.


/​

And there was much screaming.

Sticks and stones might not break his bones, but the pain transmitted just fine. Similar to bullets, a few dozen arrows eventually made for a bad time. All in all, it could have gone better.

What he said out loud, however, was a little different. Sometimes, a person has to own their mistakes…by twisting it into success!

"Inspired is right. It worked like a charm, didn't it? Man, I'm amazing."

Jaune held up a fist, which Solaire obliged with a bump. The gesture was one he had taught to the knight, and one the other man quickly grew to enjoy using. The connotations of it meshed with his outlook on life.

The blacksmith snorted in derision. "And here I always reckon the Undead Curse was what drives men mad. I suppose we find fools everywhere no matter their state." He placed the sword he had beaten into shape aside. "Still, I'll admit you done me a favor. That pig's been in the way of me scavenging trips for too long."

"No big deal, we had to fight past it anyhow. And if you're looking for material, then the boar's just lying there wearing a ton of armor. Pretty sure you could get good use out of that."

Andre answered him with a grunt, and an evaluating glance. He searched Jaune's expression for a hidden trick, finding none. "Mighty generous, that. I think I'll take you up on the offer. But later. I hate owing, so tell you what, hand me that sword of yours. I can improve on it for a favorable rate."

Jaune perked up at the proposal. An opportunity to upgrade Crocea Mors? He checked over the area. The shield may require modern technology, but the sword component lacked mechashift. It was simple, meaning a medieval blacksmith possessed the full complement of tools to work on the weapon.

From the stairs, Tattletale called down, "We helped you and you still want to charge us? Boo!" A surreptitious thumbs-up let Jaune know she had a plan, and that he should leave it to her to negotiate. Voice sweet as sugar, the girl wheedled, "Come oooon, the job should be free. It's only fair! Whatever happened to Astoran hospitality?"

"You obviously never set foot in Astora, girlie," replied Andre, annoyed.

"And I probably won't be able to if you refuse to make Jaune a better sword. We wouldn't survive long enough," she shot back. Trying to guilt trip the man was…bold. "Why do you even need compensation? The Undead don't eat. They don't drink. And unless I miss my mark, there's no entertainment in Lordran to spend money on."

Uh-oh. Jaune sensed the changing mood in the blacksmith, and he waved at Tattletale to indicate that she should drop it. Nearby, Solaire cleared his throat in an exaggerated manner to convey the same. She was focused, though, the Thinker putting on her Thinking cap and sinking deep in the throes of her deductions, her eyes flitting over Andre to note each minute tic that meant little to other people, but revealed to her the pieces of the man's story. They came together to form an incomplete picture, hinting at secrets that Tattletale craved to uncover further.

"It's not like you have long lines of customers coming to you anymore. There's no business to run! You're already gaining the benefit of more available raw materials because of us, and this job costs you nothing, so—"

"Price just doubled," Andre said, idly.

"...Eh?"

Tattletale froze stock still, while Jaune palmed his face. The girl studied the blacksmith to understand that, yes, he was serious. Whatever goodwill they garnered had blown off with the wind.

"W-wow, is this really the level of integrity you bring to your work—"

"Triple."

Jaune walked over to the wall, and began banging his forehead against the stone.

Meanwhile, Tattletale flapped her mouth open and shut, unable to form words. She spotted a smirk under Andre's beard, and it caused her to flush red with anger. Before she could retort, Andre held up four fingers, and the rebuttal on her lips was replaced with a pout. Tattletale stamped her foot on the steps, and crossed her arms, letting everyone know of her displeasure.

A lull in the conversation ensued, broken by Jaune.

"Well, thanks for the offer, Andre. I think I'll hold off on that. The price seems a tad high, you know?"

"Like I said, favorable rates. Hand me the blade."

He blinked in surprise. "Huh? But you just increased the price."

"You aren't the girlie, lad. I'll provide the titanite. That, I have plenty to spare. 'Tis honest pay for me craft I be needing. As all me customers know."

Halfway through, Andre had slipped, his tone taking on a trace of pride, and it occurred to both Jaune and Tattletale—quite late—that the blacksmith set his terms not for profit, or not entirely so, but rather for reasons of a sentimental nature. To be Undead was to exist in a state of 'don't have', deprived of home and connections and fulfillment. Perhaps, due to that, some may want to cling to their memories of the past, going through the motions of the time they were alive. A proper sale was one of those things that Andre desired to experience.

Up in her spot, Tattletale tapped a beat on her crossed arm with her fingers, irritated at herself and refusing to meet anyone's gaze. As for Jaune, he could not present his sword fast enough. His other hand brandished a fistful of gold, taken from Dunwall and stored in a money pouch for use in their journey.

"That sounds a fair trade to me. Here! Would this work to cover it? Or, hell, if you prefer dealing in favors, I can go fight that monster in the basement for you."

Andre peered at the coins and the anxious expression on Jaune's face, flicked his gaze up to the miserable Tattletale. Through their actions, he seemed to have noticed something off about them—Jaune dared not ask what, lest he confirmed it—and after a moment's deliberation, he gave an amused huff to dispel the last of the tension in the room. His gruff demeanor returned, and he waved a hand in dismissal.

"Bah! What hovel did you two crawl out from? Take those useless soft metals away. And you leave that beastie alone. Where do you think I harvest titanite from?"

"Gold will do you no good here," interjected Solaire to explain. "Souls are the currency of Lordran."

Jaune leveled a skeptical look at the knight. Buying and selling souls? If they bring out contracts that he has to sign in blood, then friendly or not, he was taking Tattletale and bailing.

Yet, it also explained much. Offering Andre their coins revealed them to be outsiders, faraway travelers who did not know of how life works in these lands, and were lost. Did the blacksmith sympathize?

As for Solaire, he accepted the incredulity with good grace. "Here, allow me to demonstrate."

He held out a palm, inviting Jaune to observe. Above, Tattletale peered between the banisters, curious at the claim.

At first there was nothing. Then, a spark ignited. It floated above Solaire's hand, a small flame that spun and danced, growing with each passing second as more wisps coalesced, until a roaring fire blazed in his palm. Tattletale stared at it, jaw dropping as she struggled to comprehend what she beheld. Jaune, coming from a society that already knew the soul was a malleable thing, simply admired the fine control. There were Huntsmen—Ren, for example—who spent years honing Aura techniques to enable a number of esoteric uses. His teammate never showed a move like this.

A very important question: Can Aura be shaped in a similar form, and slung about as if they were fireballs? Inquiring (and videogame-fueled) minds demanded an answer. Jaune put a pin on it to mess around with later, and tuned back to Solaire as he proceeded with his explanation.

"Undead, Hollows, mortals, beasts. We all leave a part of ourselves behind in death, echoes of our experiences and thoughts. An Undead absorbs these souls, whether taken from foes or picked up from those who met with fatal misfortune, and becomes grander for it."

"You get stronger as you kill. That's…a bit morbid."

And yet, the soul looked beautiful.

Also, it glowed, meaning it was good for the body.

"Is it? I do not think so. To me, it seems a wondrous thing. Those who fall entrust their will to those who continue on and from this act great deeds are done, and legends are born."

Jaune doubted that it was that simple. When souls become currency, theft equals murder. The greedy would have an incentive to turn against their fellow man, necessitating that people watch their backs and defend themselves.

"Bandits must be a problem," he remarked.

"They receive their just due in time," was Solaire's blithe answer. Abruptly, he moved his hand closer to Andre, offering him the souls. "Will this suffice?"

Jaune protested, "Whoa, hey, you don't have to pay for me!"

"Ah hah hah! You forget, you deserve an equal part in souls for the felling of the drake. This is my chance to return to you your share. Andre, hurry!"

Solaire laughed again as, before Jaune could argue further, the blacksmith swiped the soul from him. Andre rolled it in his hand like he was judging the weight, then let the orb sink beneath his skin.

"That'll do. The sword now."

"...That's quite sly of you, Solaire." Jaune passed the sword half of Crocea Mors by the handle to Andre, who studied it with interest.

Solaire was unrepentant. "And how else would you have made the trade? It is a shame your Aura cannot be drawn forth in this manner."

Understatement of the year. His soul regenerated, thus in theory translating to an infinite source of wealth in this realm, no killings necessary. Without a viable method to hand it off, though, he might as well be the world's richest pauper.

"Good steel. Not a speck of titanite. Yes, I could…nine ought to do it…" Andre, who had abandoned the ongoing conversation the moment he received a new job, murmured to himself. He turned to the furnace, and as an afterthought called over a shoulder. "Should take me no more than an hour or two."

Jaune frowned at the comment. That turnaround sounded way too fast. Beacon allowed their students to skip combat class for days on the excuse of a weapon upgrade because rarely did it finish in a shorter interval. The technology available at the academy shortened the process up to a point, no further. Certain steps required time, simple as that.

In moments, he received his answer. Having removed the hilt from Crocea Mors to leave just the metal blade, Andre grasped his hammer. A strange light entered his eyes, casting a radiant shine. His breaths emitted steam, the heat of which seemed to flow into the furnace, stoking the flames. He raised the hammer high, and brought it down on the blade to shatter it to pieces in one mighty blow.

(Jaune could not help a keening whine of pain and loss at the sight. He might have understood the idea in broad strokes, that the metal would need to be melted down, but to witness it happen was terrible for his heart.)

Andre then swept the fragments together to form a stack out of them, and proceeded to plunge a hand into a nearby pile of ores and chips. Shards of the dark metal practically leapt to the blacksmith's grasp of their own volition. He joined them to the heap of broken steel.

From a small casket came a brightly glowing fire, burning near golden. Andre plucked at it with his bare fingers, and to Jaune's uncomprehending gaze succeeded in grasping the immaterial flame. He flicked it at the furnace. Fire met fire, and exploded with energy, roiling out of their confines, the heat scorching even from a distance. The room thrummed with a pulsing heartbeat, centered on Andre of Astora.

This was blacksmithing in the land of gods and sorceries, and Jaune had never seen its like.

In a matter of minutes, the room grew inhospitable to the point of driving Jaune and Solaire to the stairs. Tattletale had already escaped to the floor above, and they joined her there to avoid the heat, and to not disturb Andre's work. Even that proved insufficient, leading to the party exiting the building altogether to gather on the path that connected to the Undead Parish.

"Well, that's…" Jaune searched for a good word.

"Impossible?" suggested Tattletale.

"Amazing. Magnificent. Magical."

Magical. Yes, that fits. Jaune looked to his hand, and the scroll he had used to take a picture of the scene. There on the screen, a person faced down an inferno, and commanded it to do their bidding. That'd be a story to tell his friends.

"So," Tattletale walked over to a crumbling wall, hopping up to sit atop it, "I guess we're stuck here for a couple of hours? Please don't tell me you're running off to fight with only a shield."

To her alarm, Jaune contemplated it. "I mean, I can probably nip back down to the forge and borrow a sword."

He wasn't that keen on wielding an unknown weapon, though. How can he trust it?

A chuckle from Solaire drew their attention. With a flourish, he presented a sword not his own, before tossing it to Jaune. The scabbard hit his palm with an audible smack. The knight then drew his sword, and took up a stance.

"Andre has agreed to lend us a spare for the time being, and while it lacks the same quality as your blade, it should suffice for a spot of practice as we wait. What do you say? Are you amenable to a few lessons?"

Jaune grinned.

Soon, the sound of metal striking metal rang out across the ruins. Rather than a proper spar, they hosted a series of exchanges, the two fighters going through the motions with far gentler intent than if they were serious. It allowed Solaire to observe the technique and footwork of Jaune, and remark on points where he could afford improvements.

Although Jaune received the lion's share of the payoff, the affable knight learned something new, too; namely, the dirtier moves prevalent in Mistral's tournament scene. Pyrrha was not above sweeping out her opponent's leg or obscuring their vision with her shield, and Jaune employed those tactics judiciously in order to gain an advantage during the bouts.

In one such exchange, they locked blades, and Solaire managed to suss out another of his secrets. Their contest was even at first, Undead strength clashing with Huntsman strength. Little by little, however, Jaune began to overwhelm his opponent, until the other man stumbled and was forced to yield.

"How odd!" exclaimed Solaire. "Your arms carry a strength that does not fit your frame. You are not cheating, are you? Hah hah hah!"

Sunlight glinted off the bonecharms tied to a string around Jaune's neck.

[Strong Arms] did what it said on the tin, and lent him a little bit of extra force in his blows and grip. A 7% increase or thereabout according to Tattletale's uncannily accurate intuition, following an experiment that involved pelting rocks off the bridge with the drake. The effect was useful enough for him to keep the charm, and subtle enough that he had not experienced much trouble acclimatizing to the difference.

"I wouldn't call it cheating. I just got a boost from an accessory, sort of like that ring Tattletale has."

"A rare treasure, indeed. Hm." Solaire tapped his chin in thought. "I recommend you acquire weapons suited to leveraging that advantage. A hammer or a mace. Do consider it."

He did not fancy himself as the Nora-type, but the advice held merit. A crushing strike utilizing an enhanced strength may do wonders on his foes. Jaune filed it to the back of his mind.

Advice given, and taken, the two of them reset their stances, then clashed again. Thus they passed the hours on that little stretch of the path, trading pointers until Tattletale alerted them that Andre had finished his work.

Crocea Mors was whole once more, the metal a shade grayer than previous. Jaune raised it aloft to test the weight, finding it heavier in his hand; not unduly so, but he can imagine an easier time breaking past drake scales and mimic flesh. Running a finger along the blade, he marveled at the keen edge that shaved at his Aura despite the lightest of touches.

With arms crossed and a proud expression on his face, Andre nodded in satisfaction. "Your steel was good. This alloy is better. I've reinforced the sword with titanite to the very limit that I can take it at this time. Only way it can be better is to get me hands on a proper Ember…nevermind, this will do. May it serve you well."

Jaune performed an experimental slash. The blade whistled through the air, the sound different from usual. Sharper. Deadlier.

Giddy, he spun towards the blacksmith and, with one arm, pulled the gruff man into a half-hug. It earned him a punch to the gut, but Jaune was unfazed, laughing in delight.

"Thank you for doing this, Andre. I appreciate it!"

A chance detour had led to a fortuitous turn. Call him sentimental, call him an idiot, he was not truly ready to let his family sword go, and had dreaded the inevitable day he must replace it for something better. With this, he would be able to wield Crocea Mors for yet a while longer.

"Bah! It was hardly a challenge. Now, away with you. Leave me to ply me craft in peace. Thanks for the business."

"And thanks for the help! I won't ever forget what you did!"

-o-​

The Undead Parish, long abandoned, still exuded a strange, forlorn beauty. The statue behind the pulpit glowed with an inner light, brighter than could be given by the flickering candles or the sunbeams which filtered through from the broken gaps in the wall. The depicted woman wore a crown, and while Solaire could not place the figure, he ventured a guess that she was one of the goddesses of Anor Londo, long vanished from these lands.

A body laid before the statue. Jaune and Tattletale knew not what to make of it. Their companion again provided the answer. A brush upon the soul lingering within the remains and he proclaimed her one of the firekeepers, revered by the Undead for their tending to the bonfires from which the slain wake up anew. When a firekeeper dies, another refuge fades to ashes, and the world becomes just a little more unwelcoming to the Undead.

Perhaps that was why, when a bolt of blue sorcery missed their group and lanced through the body, Solaire—atypical to his easygoing self—roared a great cry of fury that deafened the ear, and charged the stairs to meet the horde of Hollows assembled on the level above.

One among their midst donned ornate robes, and a mask depicting many eyes; in its hands it held a trident that spewed magical arrows. The zombies moved as a unified force at its command, marking it the leader.

As Tattletale took cover and peppered the horde with her crossbow bolts, Jaune rushed up the steps to support Solaire. He arrived into a narrow corridor teeming with hostile forces, the numbers such that the knight was hard-pressed to advance another yard despite his skill. Some carried swords or spears, others had their hands to fight with and rags for protection; it mattered to them not, the zombies stumbled forward in a great mass.

Bracing behind his shield, Jaune met the charge with one of his own, ramming into the horde to create some breathing room for Solaire. Soon, though, he slowed down, then stopped altogether, unable to shove the zombies further due to the crush of bodies. Skipping back a step, he set himself abreast with the knight to form a defensive line, and they began hacking away at the Hollows positioned at the vanguard.

It seemed tenable at first. Then, a barrage of magic bolts started flying at them, aimed between the openings along the side of the passage. One hit Jaune in the shoulder. Whatever weird substance that sorcery was made of, it lingered and it burned.

Through gritted teeth, Jaune hissed, "Solaire! The one in the mask. Do you have any idea who that is?"

"No. They must be a sorcerer, that much is evident, though I recognize not their sigils." Solaire grunted as a Hollow crashed into his shield. He rebuffed the attack, yet had to exert greater effort than either of them would expect.

"The Hollows are stronger than usual." Odd, and worrying.

Solaire said, coldly, "But not enough. They will move aside, or perish."

The knight bade Jaune to cover for him. Sheathing his sword, he focused on his empty hand. The air crackled as electricity coalesced, shaping into the length of a javelin. Solaired winded back his arm, and let loose the lightning.

The thunderbolt speared a Hollow, went through to pierce the one behind it, then the one after that, and the next, and so on to devastate an entire column of the horde, scorching the zombies on either sides to boot.

"Hell yes!" Jaune cheered. He advanced, thinking to capitalize on the opportunity.

That was when the chant reached his ears.

The sorcerer had ceased their attacks. The trident now jabbed at the air, and they kicked their feet in a rhythmic stomping beat, singing at the top of their lungs.

Before Jaune had much time to wonder, a soft blue glow settled on the Hollows. As one, they threw back their heads, and howled. Their cry drowned out all noise, drowned out Jaune's very thoughts, and once they were done, they glared at Jaune and Solaire not with the blank countenance of those who have lost all traces of their ego, but with maddened snarls akin to wild animals. A stampede followed, the horde throwing themselves at the group in reckless abandon.

"What the hell…"

Why was he in an actual zombie movie, all of a sudden?

Tattletale was shouting as loud as she could. The din of battle prevented Jaune from catching a single word. Flicking his gaze over the scene, one thing of note stuck out to him. The trident shone in the same blue color. A simple conclusion, then. That, and the ritualistic dance, were the likeliest cause for the frenzy.

"The trident is the lynchpin. We need to reach the sorcerer!"

Of course, that was easier said than done. [Third Arm] fell short of the remaining distance to their target. Meanwhile, the force arrayed against them threatened to overwhelm their line, with the balance liable to tip either way on whether they would prevail or must retreat.

"I see no recourse except to persevere," Solaire replied. "Have you a different plan in mind?"

He had, in fact. Or the inkling of one. It was by no means certain, and involved great risk beside. Only a fool would agree to make the attempt.

Solaire was all for it.

On Jaune's signal, they broke from the engagement, withdrawing to bait the horde deep into the corridor. Once they had created some space, Solaire dropped to a knee with his shield pointed to the ceiling.

Lightly, Jaune hopped atop the impromptu platform, then leapt again off of that. As he did, Solaire shoved upward with his whole strength, imparting further momentum to send Jaune soaring above the incoming Hollows. At the apex of the jump, around midway to the other side, he thrust out his left hand. Shadows formed an arm that launched toward the ground at the end of the corridor, the fingers latching onto the stone. A tug, and the arm slingshotted him past the rest of the zombies.

Being a novice still in the finer points of using [Third Arm] to maneuver, Jaune flubbed the landing, skidding on the smooth floor. Upon regaining his footing, he hurried to dispatch the nearby stragglers that had stayed to guard the ritual. With mere seconds until the horde overwhelmed Solaire, there was no time to hesitate, and he raced at the sorcerer. The moment Jaune entered striking range, his sword flicked ahead and succeeded in hitting the trident with the very tip, knocking it to the ground.

The flow of the battle behind him underwent an immediate shift in Solaire's favor as the Hollows weakened, losing cohesion and tripping over each other.

Pressing his advantage, Jaune closed in, swinging his blade again to attack directly at the sorcerer!

He whiffed empty air.

His voice came out as a shriek, surprise and distaste rolled into one. "Teleporter!"

Give him giant beasts. Give him a zombie horde unending. But, dammit, can the universe stop putting teleporters in front of him?

Looking around for the sorcerer, he spotted them at a balcony, located down a corridor on the opposite side of the cathedral to the one Solaire was fighting in. They now wielded a plain wooden staff in their hand. A wave with it, and another magic bolt darted for him.

Jaune ducked below it, and sprinted in pursuit of his foe. Flashes of blue light missed him by scant inches. The few Hollows standing in between him and the sorcerer fell without being able to put up so much as a token resistance. Nothing could stop him.

Except for the sorcerer teleporting.

"Oh, come on!" Jaune whirled around, shoes squeaking on the stone, and ran back the way he came.

This time, the sorcerer found refuge in a nearby storage room, and to reach them Jaune had to climb onto a pile of crates, shielding against shot after shot of magic. All that effort, only to see the sorcerer vanish into thin air.

Taking up position within the horde now, they aimed their staff at Solaire. Jaune carved a path through the Hollows, thinning their numbers while the knight evaded both blades and magic. Having learned the game, he simply groaned when the sorcerer escaped before his arrival.

His elusive foe reappeared in their original spot. A pause to regain their bearings, and they bent down to grab the trident. A slide tackle from Jaune sent it flying off the balcony, hitting the ground floor with a clank.

Aaaand the sorcerer was gone again. He had an idea of where. A flash of movement below confirmed it.

At this point, Jaune did not even blink before taking action. Repeated clashes had clued him in that the sorcerer would spend a couple of seconds reorienting himself. That gave Jaune a short window where his target stayed in one place. He took a page out of an old favorite, a page that Solaire had also read, and with a running start he leapt over the balcony.

The sorcerer was not expecting him. Was not even facing the right direction. That drop measured so high, it would have shipped an Undead back to a bonfire via the afterlife delivery service. So, the sorcerer paid attention to the stairs, the route that a normal person would use to continue their pursuit. The sword driven into their head from above therefore came as a complete surprise, and if that did not do it to end the chase, then the weight of Jaune crashing onto their shoulders finished the job. The sorcerer was smushed flat against the ground, where they laid motionless and ceased their teleporting forevermore.

Jaune pumped both fists in the air, screaming his victory.

"Fight's still ongoing," Tattletale reminded him whilst sighting down her crossbow.

"Right. I knew that."

Sheepishly, Jaune sped off to help Solaire neutralize the remaining Hollows. In the absence of the sorcerer, the last of their intelligence seemed to drain away, rendering them easy pickings for the party.

After it was all over, the knight clapped him on the back. "A fine gambit, my friend. That sorcerer stood no chance."

"Couldn't have done it without you, Solaire. Nice job holding the Hollows at bay. I doubted you had an easy time of it."

"I was but a shield, whereas you plunged into the midst of our enemies. My task was akin to a stroll through the garden in comparison," so said Solaire, waving off the compliment with his good arm, the one that wasn't broken and hanging limply, facing the wrong direction. Jaune directed a pointed look at it.

In response, the knight unslung a flask hanging on his belt, and shook it. "Do not worry. A sip of Estus, and I shall be right as rain." He uncorked the bottle, taking a gulp of the orange substance.

Jaune let out an impressed hum as he observed the arm snapping back into place, and proceeding to move without issues. At a glance, Estus exhibited greater efficacy than stimpaks. It may be worth buying from the Marketplace, or for him to secure a supply here in the case of high prices.

"How does that taste?" he asked.

Solaire opened his mouth, closed it, and pondered the question for a while.

"It is a taste that is unlike water, unlike wine, unlike ale, and unlike milk."

"What is this, a riddle?"

"Hah hah hah! I swear I am speaking honestly. Estus is best described by what it is not. You would have to try for yourself to understand."

Well, now he's curious.

"Of course, if anyone other than an Undead partake of this brew, they quite possibly would find themselves becoming Undead…or just dead."

His curiosity died with a whimper. Jaune scooted away from the flask.

At that time, Tattletale made her appearance from the staircase. She carried the trident on a shoulder, and practically skipped along the corridor. Reaching them, she presented to him the weapon. The sight called to mind the image of a cat showing off the dead mouse it brought in from the yard.

"Oh, cool, I almost forgot about that. Thanks for picking it up!" said Jaune as he accepted the trident.

"You're welcome~"

He started studying the thing, thinking to check its value on the Company scroll. The persistent presence at his side, however, caused him to peer down at Tattletale again. She was sporting a cheeky smile, hands clasped behind her back as she twisted her body back and forth, gazing at him with a sense of expectation.

"You sure are chirpy. What's up?"

"Good thing you got my warning, huh? "

Her warning? Jaune tilted his head in confusion.

"You knooow, when I told you about the trident. That it had a Master effect causing the Hollows to run wild."

For a moment, Jaune stared at her in blank incomprehension. Then recognition dawned, and he thought he hid the truth rather well as he decided to play along.

"Yeah, that was really good info. You saved us there, Tattletale. Thanks!"

The lie failed to pass muster, and Tattletale began to look a little lost. "You…didn't hear me?"

Jaune averted his eyes, scratching his cheek. This was going to be awkward.

"It was way too loud and chaotic at that point, sorry. I think it would really help if we set up a way to communicate over long distances. About the sorcerer…I just kind of figured things out for myself."

"Oh."

Like he said, awk~waaard~.

Seeking a distraction, Jaune suggested they search for a way to forge onward and access the Bell of Awakening. The task turned out to be not that difficult. The storage room at the back featured a ladder that he missed during the battle with the sorcerer. After stashing the trident in a safe spot for later retrieval, they set to climbing. Reaching the top put them on a narrow platform, one that opened onto the wide roof.

And far, far at the opposite end of that roof stood a tower. From this vantage point, they could see a bit of the bell up there, sheltered under a dome.

"Finally!" Jaune exclaimed. "Man, am I glad it's over."

He hopped down to stand on the ridge part of the roof. Despite the general state of disrepair, a test of the slate tiles showed that they held firm under the weight of the group. The slope was gentle, too, so even with the lack of railings he expected they could traverse it easily enough. And in the case of an accident, the gargoyle statues lining the roof at regular intervals provided handholds.

On the whole, he's feeling pretty good about this.

"Does anybody else hear that rumbling?" Tattletale asked.

*Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.*

"...I do, yes."

Stone chips tinkling against the tiles alerted them to the source of the noise. Just below where the bell was hosted, there rested more gargoyle statues, each perched atop a corner of the tower. One among them differed from the rest. It was twitching. Jaune was quite certain that's not normal behavior for a statue.

With a sharp twist, the stone gargoyle fully shed the thin outer layer hiding its true nature. Sharp claws scraped on the ledge. Two wings unfurled. An earthshaking bellow resounded across the sky.

Jaune heaved a great sigh, and waved Tattletale back inside the building. "Don't know why I thought this would be simple. It's like everything wants to kill us here. The people. The animals. The furniture. And now the garden gnome."

The gargoyle dove from the tower. The flapping wings slowed its descent, but not by much. Rather than a landing, it crashed onto the roof, shattering the tiles and nearly buckling the floor beneath its feet.

Rising to its full height, the monster peered across the distance at their party. One hand gripped a halberd, the other was strapped down with a shield. Its tail ended in a battle axe. The demonic visage snapped from Jaune to Solaire, assessing them. Formed of stone, it moved in stilted motions. Stilted and limited.

"It's not alive!" called out Tattletale from the doorway. "The actions are set—programmed? Stone skin, stone teeth, stone tongue— probably stone everything, including organs."

Parsing that, Jaune gained two insights. The thing might be less adaptable, since it was an automaton, and there were unlikely to exist critical weakpoints he could stab. He scanned the gargoyle from head to foot, searching for the best place to attack. Statues…they tend to snap off at the joints, don't they?

The monster raised its halberd and shield, then took a step forward.

"It's hostile!"

Thanks, Tattletale. No way he would have noticed that otherwise. Really.

Solaire added, "Gargoyles are the creation of Anor Londo. This one must have been set here to test our worthiness!"

"That so?" Jaune twirled his sword in lazy circles. "Then I guess it's up and at 'em for one last fight. Unless the bell wants to take a shot at us, too."

"Can you imagine? Hah hah hah!"

Jaune and Solaire spaced themselves apart, and started advancing across the roof. Their very first step, the gargoyle took as confirmation to commence the battle, and it jumped straight up. The wings held it aloft in an ungraceful flight, bringing the monster closer and closer.

The two fighters watched it carefully, on guard for the opening strike. Which will it be? The halberd? The tail-axe?

Halberd.

Held in a two-handed grip, the weapon rose high. Tick, tick, tick, the wind-up comprised three separate snappy movements instead of one fluid action, belying the artificial nature of their opponent.

Abruptly, the wings stopped beating. Whatever magic that allowed stone to fly cut out, and gravity reasserted itself. The gargoyle dropped out of the sky.

"Solaire!"

The knight was already diving to safety; the halberd missed him with room to spare. Though not caught in the attack, Jaune took a knee for the sake of stability, bracing for the gargoyle's landing. The subsequent impact shook the area.

Once the shocks subsided, Jaune kicked off to rush the gargoyle, ending up next to a leg, where he whacked it behind the knee with Crocea Mors. The attack tore away fragments of stone, not even a handful's worth, but was sufficient for the thing to change targets.

The construct had an aggro mechanic. Good to know.

Polearms fared poorly at close range, and Jaune pressed that advantage by hacking at the same spot a few more times while keeping an eye on how the gargoyle would respond. If this thing was designed for combat, then its maker would understand this exact situation, and prepare accordingly.

An orange flicker emanating from its throat was his warning, and Jaune realized he had underestimated the creator of this thing. He backpedaled as fast as could to avoid the blast of fire that struck where he previously stood and flowed over the roof to chase after him. Licked by the flames, his Aura flared, fighting to keep him safe.

The sensation of burning alive remained, though.

"Ah! AH! Ahhhh!" Jaune scrambled to escape, screaming.

A lance of lightning saved him from the torment. The bolt slammed into the chest of the gargoyle, gouging out a chunk the size of a person's head and driving the construct back a step. Solaire then entered its range, and unleashed an onslaught of blows.

Tick, tick, tick, that same jerky windup. Rather than employing the firebreath, the gargoyle opted for for a horizontal swing. Wildly telegraphed, the attack missed the knight as he ducked under the slash.

It wasn't the end. The halberd swung the other way. Solaire blocked the strike, and scraped two long furrows in the roof in his attempt to resist the monstrous strength of the gargoyle. It placed him perilously close to the edge, and with nowhere to go as the tail-axe whipped around.

Hurting still, Jaune rejoined the battle. [Third Arm] plucked Solaire from the path of the attack, and set the two of them side by side, in position to charge the construct during its recovery. Solaire went low for the knee, Jaune went high for the arm.

A two-man team seemed to confound the gargoyle. It would fixate on one person, and ignore the other. Then, when the second man dealt a certain level of damage, it switched focus to him. The predictability allowed them to chip pieces from the gargoyle, the debris bouncing and rolling along the slate tiles in a steady stream.

There was some kind of intelligence within the stone head, however. Two cycles of that routine, and the gargoyle changed tactics, spewing another torrent of flame that had Jaune and Solaire beating a hasty retreat, running in different directions.

"This is working," Jaune said when they met up again. "It's following patterns, and we can lead it to react to what we do instead of taking initiatives."

Solaire nodded in understanding. "And thus we shall always enjoy the advantage. My, my. I must remember this trick for similar foes." He pointed. "How would we answer this maneuver?"

The gargoyle was flying, preparing to dive-bomb the pair.

"Ehhhh. Run?"

"Ah. A classic."

For the third time, a stone meteor struck the cathedral roof, and Jaune thought it a miracle the entire thing had not collapsed yet. There were definitely craters forming, places that had been stressed to the critical point. The hypothetical consequence of falling from this height spurred Jaune on to fight harder in the hope of ending this fast. As tough as the gargoyle might be, gravity was an enemy for whom he had no good answer.

Their first breakthrough arrived with Jaune and Solaire literally breaking through one of the gargoyle's arms, a lightning spear shearing off the last bit of stone connecting the elbow to the bicep. It left the construct with one-handed attacks reduced in power that Jaune and Solaire could block on a consistent basis, which let them press the offensive; the thunderbolts drew the greatest effect, removing chunks at a time.

It was slow going, but it was going. They were finding their rhythm.

Jaune changed his mind when the tail-axe slapped him against the ground, then smacked him once more for good measure. Owwww.

As he staggered upright, Jaune spotted a figure skirting the periphery of the battle, on course for the belltower and utterly silent under the effect of the Slumbering Dragoncrest Ring he gave her. He hesitated on whether to be worried or pleased.

The idea was not difficult to comprehend, and simple in execution. Tattletale wanted to ring the bell before getting out of here, no battle needed and worthiness be damned, and she had seized the chance while the gargoyle was distracted. He could get behind a plan that spared him from burning alive—experiencing that once was enough—except he would rather it was him taking the risk; they were standing in the thick of battle, where a Thinker did not belong.

Those feelings grew to outright panic as a shadow fell over her.

Tattletale had a split second to realize what would happen. She looked up to a snarling visage carved of stone. The second gargoyle performed a flip to lash its tail in an underswing, the full brunt of the massive axehead smashing into her dead on, blasting her away with the force of a cannonshot.

She came down on the ridge. Bounced off, flying in an arc. Struck tiles; they shattered apart. Rocketed by the battle of Jaune, Solaire, and the first gargoyle; Jaune could not catch her, his fingers grasping empty air. With a sickening crunch, Tattletale crashed against the wall, just next to the doorway they crossed to get here. The impact kicked up a cloud of dust and debris.

Terror. Fright. His mind, a mess. It has happened again. He had failed the person by his side again.

He started to go towards her. Solaire was fighting solo, the thought made Jaune spin around to the battle. Tattletale needed help, his hand plunged into his pocket, fumbling for a scroll. Movement at the corner of his eye, he turned to the second gargoyle bounding closer and closer. What was the right course to take?

Solaire's voice cut through the webs of confusion which clouded his thoughts.

"My friend, get a hold of yourself! Does not ephemeral Aura protect her? Your companion may yet live, but these creatures would surely harm her lest we defeat them! Fight on!"

Right. That's right. She has Aura. U-Unless she had switched on her power-nullifying choker at the time. She couldn't have, could she?

…No, Tattletale preferred to have her superpower at hand in the field, and definitely would during an ongoing battle. Her Aura was activated. She'd be okay as long as it held.

The gargoyle making a beeline for her could change that.

Jaune raced to intercept the monster, skidding to a stop between it and Tattletale. Unable to help a glance, he turned to look behind him for a hint of her situation.

Within the obscuring cloud, there flickered an apple-green light. Jaune breathed a sigh of relief.

Emboldened, he refocused on the galloping gargoyle. [Third Arm] brought him in close to keep the fight at a distance from Tattletale. Once there, a quick combo of slashes triggered whatever protocol or enchantment that commanded the monster's targeting priority, forcing it to change its aim from her to him.

The second gargoyle was smaller than the first, but not by much. The same hard skin, the same firebreath, it matched the other to a tee and Jaune quickly found himself on the back foot.

After removing a few small chips off of a joint, he ducked to avoid a swipe of the halberd going from right to left, then jumped over one that traveled left to right. He fell back, flat on the roof, to escape another. The halberd went up, up, up and dropped like a guillotine, cracking the spot he occupied a moment earlier.

Changing tack, Jaune rolled between its legs, putting him in a position to attack the tail. Remove that, and he'd take out an essential part of the gargoyle's arsenal.

It jumped high, and stomped down, nearly squashing Jaune in the attempt. He darted out of its range to catch a break.

"This is not going well, is it?" he muttered under his breath.

Two on one, Jaune and Solaire enjoyed the advantage. One on one, victory hung by a thread. The knight, too, was currently facing troubles. His lightning spears had ceased flying at its previous pace, opportunities now chosen with care.

The person that built these gargoyles was a sly one. Resistant to blades, capable of flight, spitting fire as if it was going out of style when you get too close, the creature served as a perfect counter to a warrior, the likes of Solaire and him. Facing them in a fair duel was a losing proposition from the very start.

So, don't fight them straight.

As Jaune ducked and weaved, his mind ran a mile a minute, wrapping itself around that concept. They were constructs. Programs. Robots. Despite the level of sophistication, they won't truly behave like people would. Can he exploit that?

An idea sparked behind his eyes.

Up until now, he had kept his battle apart from Solaire's. It seemed obvious, since one murderous stone statue was already one too many. Nobody wanted to deal with two at the same time.

They had assumed the gargoyles could work together. There was no proof of that yet.

Jaune began retreating, guiding the second gargoyle towards its kin. No, not kin. The copy. They weren't family or friends or what have you, just another unit that had been stationed at this location.

"Solaire, I'm crashing the party."

"I…do not understand. What are you doing?"

Oh. They must not use that expression here.

"Player two is dropping in."

"I am so very confused."

"...Anyway, I'm here. That was my point. Please take care where you throw lightning, because I'm trying something."

So saying, he commenced his plan. A shadowy arm latched onto the first gargoyle's face. Jaune was there a moment later, grabbing hold on the ears.

The construct responded without hesitation, shaking this way and that to get rid of him. The wings opened, about to take flight.

Before it could, Jaune swung off the neck, dodging the tail-axe of the second gargoyle by inches as it slammed into the stone-carved face of its ally. An entire side of the facade crumbled to powder under the devastating blow.

He extended a supernatural hand, and repeated the ploy, climbing all over the second gargoyle. A halberd came whistling through the air, pulverizing a shoulder.

Their architect had not, or was unable to, imprint teamwork onto the design of the gargoyle. They fought in one arena, but they did not fight together.

Strategy established, Jaune pinballed between the two monsters, jumping when he could and utilizing [Third Arm] otherwise. The gargoyles continued their inadvertent fight, slapping back and forth. Swathes of the roof would light up in an inferno as they breathed flames at each other.

A particularly daring (and slightly accidental) decision to hang on while the gargoyles took flight resulted in a midair collision. One of them lost a leg in that exchange, and became easy picking for Solaire to drive a blast of lightning down its mouth, rendering the fire attack mechanism null. Wracked by fractures and cracks, it dragged its body across the ground to chase after Jaune. Then, it struggled to grab him as he tapdanced on its head. The unfortunate thing met an end when the blade of a halberd cleaved its neck in two.

Jaune reappeared atop the gargoyle still standing, stomping on the head to taunt it. After a couple of duds, either a useless swipe of the tail or a stream of flame, the construct performed the action he desired, flapping its wings to carry him skyward. Hooking a leg around the neck, he chopped at the base of a wing with his sword, sawing bit by bit. Below, Solaire waited, his finest bolt of lightning yet at the ready.

The sudden listing to one side by the gargoyle was the signal for him to let loose the shot. Above, Jaune let go of his grip, rolling down the stone back and catching the tail. Crackling energy passed over his head to shatter the weakened spot on the wing, severing the limb. The gargoyle dropped out of the air with Jaune trailing behind.

As before, the slate tiles broke beneath the impact. This time, the roof went with it. The gargoyle tore a massive hole in the cathedral as it fell through. Not wishing to accompany the thing to their deaths, Jaune released the tail. An application of [Third Arm] pulled him to safety.

He hit the roof running, paying little attention to the almighty crash far below. Vaulting over the other slain gargoyle, he slid the last few yards to end up at Tattletale's side.

"Tattletale, are you alright!?"

Her Aura was up, pulsing in that manner telling of a near broken state, with weak beats and a dull glow. Near broken, but still there. The attack had not depleted it in the entirety.

Yet, something was awry. Unresponsive to his question, she had curled into herself, and was crying. Frantically, Jaune searched her over for an injury, finding nothing at all. Aura had done its work to turn aside what would have been catastrophic damage. Why then, did she cry?

"Tattletale, tell me what's wrong!" The scroll was out in an instant, the medical page loaded. Blood Replenishing Potions, stimpaks, he added both to the cart. "Is it internal? Hang on, I'll find something!"

Finally, Tattletale responded, managing to shake her head in refusal. Jaune did not understand the insistence when tears were still streaming down her face, and she struggled to form words.

"I-It…"

He leaned closer to catch what she was trying to say.

"...h-hurts!"

Relief warred with concern. He had discovered the answer. Aura had saved her, but…people with Aura still feel pain.

That was something he got used to during Beacon. Months, it took him to adjust. Tattletale possessed her Aura for a week, and did not experience combat training on a daily basis the way a Huntsman-in-Training would. Her pain tolerance measured at the level of a civilian.

Worse, even, because people from Earth Bet were fragile in a way that people from Remnant were not. He had seen it firsthand during the battle against Leviathan. They bleed easily, they break easily, sometimes losing their lives to incidental blows that—to his estimation—bore just enough force to incapacitate instead of kill.

"I'll find a pain reliever."

She shook her head.

"Take a stimpak, at least."

Again, Tattletale denied the offer. Pain was temporary, and she'd weather it to save them on Points.

Jaune knelt there, feeling useless, unable to do a thing to help. Frustrated, he sought to understand.

"What made you run out there, Tattletale? If you had told me the plan, I could have handled things from then on. Why did you do it?"

Between sobs, she answered, "I'm c-c-carrying my weight!"

Because she had not contributed much. Because in this world, she had stumbled again and again, being nothing but a burden. Because she was afraid he'd leave her behind. It was what her old team would have done in similar circumstances; in a heartbeat, without hesitation. Her fears and worries, they spilled out in a stuttering rush, the girl all but demanding that he just render judgment on her fate and be done with it.

He tried to soothe her panic. "C'mon, you have your strengths, and I have mine. We carry each other past obstacles that would defeat each of us alone. That's what it means to be a team."

"That's bullshit! You think I don't know how people see me? Everyone thinks I'm an irritant. That bitch who gets the group in trouble with her mouth. If I have nothing to contribute…If I can't…"

Jaune tapped her on the nose. Tattletale went cross-eyed to look at his finger, then flicked her gaze up to look at him. The suddenness of it had interrupted her runaway distress.

Sitting down on the roof, Jaune collected his thoughts. The things she said…well, they sort of made sense, and sort of didn't. He can imagine a society that lived as she described. It probably would not be a place he wished to call home.

"I think…I think that there's a disconnect between our universes, Tattletale. My dad taught me this growing up on the frontier—" He cleared his throat, mimicking the tone his father liked to use when he imparted advice; it always seemed to match better to the words than Jaune's own voice. "On Remnant, it's us against the world, and to be alone is to die. So, we stick together. We don't abandon one another."

It was as simple as that. Most people that he met got it.

Life could never be called peaceful, whether that was outside or inside the settlement walls. Crime exists, and jealousy abounds. Still, there's a line. A limit.

A person can be disagreeable, mean, or an outright thief. But were the Grimm to beset the settlement, they manned those barricades if they could and fought alongside everyone else. And if they saw somebody lying injured on the way to the shelters, then they had better pick that person up and run with them on their shoulders, the risks to themselves be damned.

It's why the likes of the White Fang and Torchwick were unforgivable to so many. Acting as bad as bandits, they lurked outside the city walls, and tried to tear it down for the Grimm to take.

"Even when you don't get along, or even hate someone, making the choice to turn your back on your people is what makes you the enemy, nothing more than Grimm." Other. Not of us. Them. Monsters to be slain. "Never do that. And if you make a friend, treasure them."

Upon ceasing to channel the older man, the energy and confidence that bolstered his words tapered off, and Jaune slouched in his seat. He averted his eyes and rubbed his head, embarrassed at the way Tattletale was looking at him. She refused to say a peep, so he filled the silence by rambling on.

"Well, ideally. The line seems so blurry at times. Everybody's out for themselves, me included. It…It wasn't like that in the stories my father told me, of himself and my grandfather and great-grandfather. They were different. They saved everyone in need of help, and they never fail their companions. Bona fide heroes, that's my family. I wanted to be like them."

A better man.

The apple fell far from the tree, a traitorous part of his mind whispered.

Silence passed for a time. Until, at last, Tattletale spoke, her voice a murmur.

"You're so dumb. The world isn't that nice."

He shrugged. "Alright, sure, you might think it idiotic of me. Still, I'm not leaving you behind. That's fine, right?"

"…Do whatever you want."

And so, he did, staying by her side until she was well again. Maybe his parents would have been proud of that, if they knew.

"I bet your dad sanitized those stories before he told it to a kid…probably fluffed himself up to look good, too. You were lied to. They're no better than you are."

Annoyed, he pinched her cheek. "You really are not cute at all."

On Tattletale's face, a little smile bloomed.

"Bite me."

-o-​

"You're so slow!"

"My apologies. Take heed, a ladder is no place for a suit of armor. Hah hah hah!"

"Whatever. Just hurry up, my arms are getting tired. If I slip and fall to my death, I swear I'll haunt you."

"Eh. No worries about that. I can probably catch you."

"Is that why your eyes are locked on my ass, Jaune? For my safety?"

"Pft. What? They're not!" They were. "Don't go making baseless accusations!"

"Oh~, is that so?" She wiggled her hips. "Guess you didn't see that then."

Below her, Jaune choked on his spit. Tattletale cackled the rest of the way up the ladder. The cocky attitude stayed with her even after they exited to the top of the tower.

All that was quickly forgotten, as they beheld their prize. A massive thing, taller than a man, the bronze bell appeared simple and worn down with age. Yet…

Clang. Clang. Clang.

A pull of the adjacent lever, and it chimed with the clearest notes to reach the corners of Lordran. The peals resonated with the sound of the bell below the earth, forming a melody.

And the city awoke.

Signal fires lit up along the walls and castles. Sorceries and fireballs rocketed into the sky, exploding as though in celebration. From every throat—Undead or Hollow, man or beast—shouted a great cry. The twin Bells of Awakening have at last been rung. They resided in a time of legend.

Nearby the Undead Parish, the gates of a fortress slowly rose up, opening the path to Anor Londo.

The first inside was an odd warrior dressed in armor that resembled an onion. Then followed a comically large wizard hat, its owner slinging spells at a group of pursuing Hollows. A dark suit of iron armor came clanking after them.

From their vantage point, the party watched as throughout the city old monsters roused from their sleep, serpents and golems and things Jaune had no words for. Between the gaps in the buildings, he would spy flashes of scales and claws, bloody cleavers and eldritch fire. Hollows poured out of dark, hidden corners to stalk the streets.

Those who had traveled to Lordran set upon these creatures with steel, and fire, and sorcery. Squads of soldiers engaged a giant rat. A priest traveled a graveyard, casting the skeletons that arose from their coffins back to eternal rest. A samurai charged a horned ogre alone.

Often, the battle ended contrary to their favor, heroes and scoundrels falling victim to deadly monsters, misfortune, betrayals, and any number of other calamities. They won't stay dead for long, Solaire has taught Jaune and Tattletale that.

To the pair from another universe, this scene…

"It's awful," Tattletale muttered.

It's so like home, Jaune thought.

The sight was too familiar, a mirror to Remnant in how the stories went. Again and again, the monsters were battering at the gates. Again and again, the defenders rose to the occasion. And now, standing on the outside looking in, he saw how twisted it was.

"Is this what life is like? Fight. Kill. Die. Repeat..."

He wondered if these were the natural beats of the universe, that more often than not they will see it in some form. Conflict without end, or purpose. Just simple survival against a hostile world that wanted them dead, and on some days appear to spiral on an ever downward turn to a darker age.

"I will not lie. It may often seem a hopeless endeavor." Solaire swept his hand, the gesture encompassing a drake draped over a bridge, a treasure chest lying upturned in the middle of a city street, a boar smashed into a broken portcullis, a hole in a roof. "The little victories help. The good company helps. And…look up, my friends."

Above them stretched an endless sky, bathing the land in a golden light, warm and kind.

"The world is bleak, yet the sun still shines. Every morning, it rises. What beauty! What wondrous radiance! I am here to seek my very own sun. Will I? Who can say. But a sight like this, is it not worth getting up for? Just one more time? I would chase it forever, if I could! And were I to find my dear sun around the next corner, why, I shall be the happiest man in the world!"

Let others laugh. Let them scoff. They see a fool, questing for something he may never find. Yet, Jaune got the sense that Solaire had struck upon the key to it all, and would be able to go further than any Undead.

So long as Solaire knew hope, he would never turn Hollow, turn empty.

Caught in a trance, the knight took a step forward, hands grasping as though to take the sun and pull it into his embrace, and treasure forevermore.

Then, his arms extended up on either side, as far as they can go, like he himself had become the sun and his hands the rays of sunshine spreading outward to the horizon.

Solaire paused in the motion as Jaune strolled over next to him.

"Mind if I…"

"Hah hah hah! Of course you can!"

Jaune set his feet together, and pushed onto tiptoes. He made to raise his hands in imitation of Solaire. Because, to Jaune, he was someone worth imitating.

A moment's thought had him turning his head, sending a glance to Tattletale behind him. He hopped one spot to the right, and beckoned in invitation.

"No," she rejected the offer. "I don't care about the sun."

"It's not about the thing itself. We both have something we want, don't we? Come on over here."

She huffed, and scoffed, and sneered. She walked to stand by his side, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Wonderful! Simply wonderful!" Solaire cried out. "Now, do as I do. Praise the sun!"

"We did it! We rang a bell!"

"What the fuck is even my life!"

Atop a belltower, as the light of day shone upon the world so grossly incandescent, three people stretched their arms to the sky, and praised the sun.

-o-

Universe: Dark Souls. Location: Undead Burg. Event: Bells of Awakening.
Loot: Crocea Mors +5, drake sword, channeler trident…


"Wait, is this all that we're going to bring back?"

"Not the best haul, is it?"

"Yeah. What a shame."

"Hm. Allow me to render you aid in some small manner. Take these scrolls, and this talisman of my own make. Then, with but a spark of faith, perhaps you too will throw lightning."


...Great Heal scroll, Lightning Spear scroll, Sunlight Talisman.


"Or, we could sell them. Just saying."

"That you can, hah hah hah! Farewell, my friends. And may we find many more chances to engage in jolly cooperation!"


Author's Notes: Praise the sun!

Solaire's quest can take him straight to hell, or carry him all the way to the First Flame. Thing is, his fate depends on our efforts, just as our own journey in Dark Souls so often relied on him. He helps us with the boss fights, we save his life in turn, and after it all he would stand with us at the final battle. What a bro.
.

If Tattletale cannot prove she is useful, what stops Jaune from cutting her out of the share of Points, or kick her out altogether? Her previous teammates would certainly do it. Her boss and parents, too. For Lisa Wilbourn, life was supposed to be transactional.
.

Tattletale—Oh, I get it! You're saying the sun is a metaphor, for—
Jaune—
*daydreaming about a sunny blonde* Yeeeah, a metaphor. That's totally what I meant.
 
Cherico's stories in general have given me a general idea of what the Company is like. So I'm going to assume that Jaune is the new entertainment, possibly being recruited in the future if he's more successful at his tasks.

Of course, that won't be shown, I guess. The WC seems to be a resource for a crossover without the direct use of mind control mechanics.

I hope other companions will join for the trip through the multiverse.

There's also the agent's reaction to everything that happened, although knowing how things are. He doesn't care about Mr. Edgy.
 
Solaire was unrepentant. "And how else would you have made the trade? It is a shame your Aura cannot be drawn forth in this manner."
... Maybe it could.
IIRC - acc to Pyrrha's very natural sounding infodump during Initiation - Aura users can and do channel their aura into their gear.
Both to share the 'HP mechanic' so their clothes and weapon wouldn't tear and break when they move and fight at superhuman speed and so they can 'activate' Dust and whatnot.
In theory Jaune could channel some of his aura - product of his soul - into those worthless golden coins. Making them... Less worthless mystically speaking.
Of course their worth would probably plummet the moment they left his hand.
I wonder if Dust would be better?
"So," Tattletale walked over to a crumbling wall, hopping up to sit atop it, "I guess we're stuck here for a couple of hours? Please don't tell me you're running off to fight with only a shield."
Doesn't he still have that dragon sword on him?
A body laid before the statue. Jaune and Tattletale knew not what to make of it. Their companion again provided the answer. A brush upon the soul lingering within the remains and he proclaimed her one of the firekeepers, revered by the Undead for their tending to the bonfires from which the slain wake up anew.
I wonder if a Firekeeper could mess with J&T's souls to boost them?
Lightly, Jaune hopped atop the impromptu platform, then leapt again off of that. As he did, Solaire shoved upward with his whole strength, imparting further momentum to send Jaune soaring above the incoming Hollows.
That was a very Rule of Cool move. Very RWBY :D
But, dammit, can the universe stop putting teleporters in front of him?
This will never stop being funny. Or frustrating.
Nothing could stop him.

Except for the sorcerer teleporting.

"Oh, come on!"
Sholud've picked Blink back in Dunwall. Maybe the Outsider would be willing to switch it up for him?
At that time, Tattletale made her appearance from the staircase. She carried the trident on a shoulder, and practically skipped along the corridor. Reaching them, she presented to him the weapon. The sight called to mind the image of a cat showing off the dead mouse it brought in from the yard.
"Look! I'm being useful!"
Terror. Fright. His mind, a mess. It has happened again. He had failed the person by his side again.
Ooof.
Her pain tolerance measured at the level of a civilian.
Says a guy who was at the level of a civilian less than a year ago.
Between sobs, she answered, "I'm c-c-carrying my weight!"
... Yeah. This has been building up for a while now.
Jaune set his feet together, and pushed onto tiptoes. He made to raise his hands in imitation of Solaire. Because, to Jaune, he was someone worth imitating.
Fair enough. His attitude certainly is.

Great chapter.
I really like how you manage to keep them both in character.
 
Last edited:
If the Magical energy provided by the Outsider is the same as the stuff required for incantations then this could be a solid upgrade to Jaune. When he learns to use it.
Using an Eldritch Abomination of human origin as a source of Faith mojo is not something I even considered. It will either work like a charm or backfire horribly.
I'm wondering if our cute couple will get into Everafter? I would look at the interaction of Jaune and Lisa with the Rusty Knight
That sounds like something requiring either a time loop or jump into canon RWBY (and about a year into the future).
 
Last edited:
Cherico's stories in general have given me a general idea of what the Company is like.
Cherico's stories aren't the end-all-be-all representation of the setting, only his interpretation.

I'm more fond of Chibi-Reaper's than Cherico's.

Honestly, I prefer several others' over Cherico's, and Leecifer is down at the bottom of the pile beneath that.
 
That world wasn't good for Tattletale's ego... but she does needs to have her ego kept in check from time to time.
We had a world where Jaune... well, not thrived but could grasp and fit.
We need one where Tattletale would be actually more useful part of the duo.
A Clue or something with intrigue? That also has useful loot.
Can anyone think of a setting that fits the description?
 
Last edited:
Lisa's parents heave really done a number on her. How long before she truly internalizes Jaune's trustworthiness and loyalty? Can the cat truly understand the dog? (Come to think of it, is he sufficiently dog-like for Bitch to trust?)

And now I'm imagining them in Equestria, where Tattletale's instincts are entirely backwards. But perhaps after her self-confidence gets built back up a bit. Would Paranoia work?
 
We need one where Tattletale would be actually more useful part of the duo.

Tough to say, I guess something like Final Fantasy 7?

Shield Hero too, she'd be able to call out everyone's Bullshit quite quickly in those two.

Harry Potter would be fun for Tattletale hijinks as well I'd think.
 
Tough to say, I guess something like Final Fantasy 7?

Shield Hero too, she'd be able to call out everyone's Bullshit quite quickly in those two.

Harry Potter would be fun for Tattletale hijinks as well I'd think.
Something like Sherlock Holmes or any detective story would be the easy answer... if Jaune and Tats had any reason to get involved with the plot in one of those and not just treat it as a normal modern world.
 
Something like Sherlock Holmes or any detective story would be the easy answer... if Jaune and Tats had any reason to get involved with the plot in one of those and not just treat it as a normal modern world.

Yeah, those were my first thoughts obviously, but I feel they would be kinda boring.

OH oh, idea that just hit me! Persona 4 would be good!

She'd pick up on Adachi (and maybe Izanami), throwing the whole plot upside down and it would still get us some action scenes.

Though that would require a longer jump, I'd hate to read that and leave it unresolved or worse, handwaved with a timeskip ...
 
We had a world where Jaune... well, not thrived but could grasp and fit.
We need one where Tattletale would be actually more useful part of the duo.
A Clue or something with intrigue? That also has useful loot.
Can anyone think of a setting that fits the description?
Merlin(the BBC TV show) would be a good one, there's quite a bit of magic loot there, and while there's fighting aplenty figuring out the plot is often what's most important, that combined with the need to actively hide supernatural powers would make it a good place for Tattletale to shine.
 
Great Heal scroll, Lightning Spear scroll, Sunlight Talisman.

"Or, we could sell them. Just saying.

Please tell me theyvare not selling the Greater Heal scroll. Jaune has not unlocked his Paladin Semblance yet!

Plus? Wasn't Lisa/Sarah just bemoaning how little use she is in a fight? Why not become a Caster? She's not gonna become a frontline anything anytime soon, so be the backline support!
 
Last edited:
Cherico's stories in general have given me a general idea of what the Company is like. So I'm going to assume that Jaune is the new entertainment, possibly being recruited in the future if he's more successful at his tasks.

Of course, that won't be shown, I guess. The WC seems to be a resource for a crossover without the direct use of mind control mechanics.

I hope other companions will join for the trip through the multiverse.

There's also the agent's reaction to everything that happened, although knowing how things are. He doesn't care about Mr. Edgy.

Huh...y'all think after the original jackass died that Jaune sort of hijacked the content generated by him and is garnering interest in his own way? He literally still has the Company Phone, that thing is probably bugged to hell and back, being sued to broadcast his shenanigans. The people over there must be getting the genuine Jaune experience, a bit uncommon considering how many of them watch it for the waifus and such. It'd be like a web show or stream to tune into occasionally, getting some pretty niche content all the same.
 
Cherico's stories in general have given me a general idea of what the Company is like. So I'm going to assume that Jaune is the new entertainment, possibly being recruited in the future if he's more successful at his tasks.

Of course, that won't be shown, I guess. The WC seems to be a resource for a crossover without the direct use of mind control mechanics.

I hope other companions will join for the trip through the multiverse.

There's also the agent's reaction to everything that happened, although knowing how things are. He doesn't care about Mr. Edgy.
Cherico is an expert at sucking the fantasy out of fantasy and the joy and wonder out of any story and at making himself a professional victim. His character always feels like going through a chore and a torture no matter what he is doing. Taking him or his stories as an example of anything is a bad idea.
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Back
Top