Chapter Text
Ruby rushed the figure, Crescent Rose swinging for their neck as they were busy locking their circular metal and stone shield with Pyrrha. At the last second, they broke the lock, Crescent Rose going through them like a knife through petals.
Because that's what it hit, petals that rapidly reformed into Rose, who spun, lightning spitting from her axe, smashing it into Ruby's gut pommel first, raised Ruby up and made her want to vomit as her Aura shattered. Crumpling onto the ground, she watched Rose drop the shield, “That’s enough. Sorry about that Ruby, I went too far.”
“Why does she get an apology but the rest of us don't?” Jaune moaned, laying on the floor a bit away battered and bruised.
“Gotta say,” Yang said, trying to stand only to buckle and collapse against Blake, “I agree.”
“Bias,” Rose admitted, “Hey, listen, you all did well today. Hit the showers, and if you feel you need to, visit the infirmary.”
“This was us doing well?” Jaune asked, “It doesn't feel like any other day to me.”
“Fighting against a Stormcast? Very well,” Rose’s grin vanished, “Listen, I know it's painful, I know it's grueling, I know you probably think I’m some sort of sadistic bitch getting a cheap laugh out of beating the absolute crap out of you… But I know some of the monsters that are coming, both Grimm and Chaos. I want you to be able to survive when the time comes, so I’m going to push you to your limits amd beyond.”
Ruby stood up, looking around the room. Against one wall was a tarp, Rose’s silver armor sparkling in the light of the training room. Against another was a sleeping bag, since this spare training room had been turned into Rose’s bedroom.
“Wouldn't have it any other way, sis,” Yang panted, finally climbing upright, “We’ll hit the showers, you coming to dinner?”
“Saving my appetite,” Rose grinned, “I’m going to hunt something, and Ozpin offered me a feast when I kill it.”
—
Rose strode across the courtyard in full plate, grinning wildly. It had been too long. Giving a long, sharp whistle, Rose watched Crimson look up from where she was savaging a deer carcass. Another whistle and Crimson stood up, walking over to meet her. Climbing on, Rose urged the two headed Morrgryph into flight, doing one pass around Beacon as she slid on her helm. Pulling the reins slightly, she flew across Beacon’s courtyard and towards Mountain Glenn, letting out a laugh that was swallowed by the wind echoing around her helm.
It took twenty minutes to reach the mountain that named the settlement and find a weak spot to blow open with the Spear Indomitable. Meeting the giant eyes of the Wyvern, Rose let loose a long howl, warped and twisted by her helm, Crimson diving in. The Wyvern was large, but compared to the children of Fangathark, the Mother Worm who slithered through Ghur, it was positively tiny.
Pointing the Spear Indomitable towards the wyvern as it slowly roused itself, a burst of pure lightning energy exploded from the maw at head of the glaive, blasting open a hole around one of its eyes. Crimson’s claws struck out as they swept in, gouging it out in a spray of black goo, lesser grimm rising from where the splatter hit. Sweeping through the snapping jaws of the Wyvern, Rose fired another blast from the Spear down its throat.
A roar like a hurricane came from its jaws, and it swept a winged arm up, shattering the mountain top and bursting after Crimson. Rose slipped her feet out of the grips, closed her eyes, and fell. Spinning in place, Rose gripped the Spear with both hands and drove it through the skull exoskeleton and into the flesh beneath. Laughing as the Grimm thrashed and tried to throw her off, Rose tore the blade from the bone and plummeted, landing back in Crimson’s saddle as her beloved Morrgryph swept under.
Sweeping up, Crimson was tackled by a griffon, nearly sending Rose flying off. Instead, she sent a blast of lightning at it, blowing the Grimm to pieces like a distended balloon.
Rising up, Ruby repeated the plummet, hitting the Wyvern in the back of the neck and firing a burst of lightning into the same spot. The Wyvern gave a mighty wheeze, trying to roar only to find its neck had been blown open. Black ooze poured from the wound, before the Grimm collapsed unceremoniously, landing across the buildings of Mt. Glenn as it decayed.
—
Gong.
Bane looked up at the deep ringing of a bell, deep throated and echoing. Gripping his sword, he began to make his way into the caves, gesturing for two more White Fang to follow him.
Gong. Gong.
“What the hell is that?” Perry Winkle muttered.
“I don't know, but we’re going to find out,” Bane growled, making his way into the caves. Walking down the steps, he led them further into the depths.
Gong. Gong. Gong. Gong. Gong. With each ringing, it got louder, telling them they were going in the right direction.
Finally, after an hour of walking into the deepest most unstable part of the city, they found the bell. It was giant, brass thing, and swung on its own.
Gong.
The ground cracked suddenly, leaving Bane to stagger back. All around them, buildings were starting to sprout from the ground, green lightning crackling from the cracks. What the actual-
Gong. Gong.
Bane revved his chainsword as he heard noises from buildings. The lightning burned away the ground, letting larger buildings, if the ramshackle things could be called that. Something flew past Bane’s ear and he heard Perry gurgle. Turning, he found his friend collapsing with a throwing star in his throat, dripping a caustic liquid from the tips.
Gong. Gong. GONG!
Bane turned at the chittering, only to find hundreds of red eyes staring at him, rusted weapons in the ratmen’s hands. For a brief second, nobody moved.
Then the horde of filthy, chittering creatures ran forward, Bane managing to cleave through at least twenty before a green bullet blasted his sword from his hand and he was dragged down by sheer weight of numbers.
—
Axelight stood, feeling antsy, hands tightening around her trusted axe, as she waited for the signal. They were standing in the Gladitorium, the giant coliseum the god Malarion had gifted Sigmar. Down below, Chambers of the Stormblood Guard and Blades of Dawn clashed, red shield wall clashing against purple shield wall. Suddenly, a familiar beacon of lightning lit up, and Axelight began to move with Argentia and Romulus, the rest of the Unbent Chamber following. The magic of Azyr began to crackle as they stepped off the edge of the Metalith they were standing on. Before they fell more than two feet, they were swallowed by the storm.
They slammed down behind the enemy lines, finding Vash, a trio of Praetors, and two units of ten Vindicators waiting for them, “Good, where are the Prosecutors?”
“Incoming, my Lord,” Romulus said, voice gravel deep.
“Good!” Vash waved his glowing staff, directing the winged Stormcast, “We’re acting as the speartip today, men. The unit that takes the standard gets the honors!”
Long howls came from the edges of the formation, and Axelight watched the Vanguard Palladors break through on either side, riding gryph-chargers as their javelins lay jutting out in the dead bodies of the Blades of Dawn and pulling out hatchets
“Don't let them have it, men!” Axelight called, “The Standard is ours! Show them the Unbent are the best there is!”
Axelight led the advance towards the paladin holding the Standard of their Stormhost. Smaller, less impressive standards flew in the hands of lesser Vexilors across the battlefield.
“Not if we make it there first!” Knight-Praetor Chamon-Touched, the Lord-Commander’s personal bodyguard, took to the air with the Prosecutors.