G.N. Chapter 19 (Patreon)

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Chapter 19 Seeking Wounds.

A flustered Jaune was almost happy to be once more descending into the ‘aqueducts’. He had just finished a… ‘conversation’ with a resident of Yharnam who had no problem sharing her honest opinion with Jaune.

“Damn Yharno’s, even the sane ones, are mad,” he huffed, hopping down into a large empty hall-like structure. It had several levels, with Jaune situated at the highest and the lowest being the familiar cold stone of the sewers below. His keen ears could hear the movement of beasts as they wandered about, but he knew that a singular sense was often insufficient to judge numbers.

Walking along the wooden scaffold, he lowered his torch and let his eyes try to better adjust to the darkness. He took in the many makeshift platforms that grew from the rafters like cancer sores littered with junk and, more concerningly, dangling bodies.

From his vantage point above, he noted the few prowling figures he could see, some illuminated by their torches while others skulked in the darkness. But for everyone he saw, he considered the ones he couldn’t. The beasts were deranged, maddened and bloodthirsty, but this did not remove them from their cunning.

It only served to make it that much more dreadful.

“Tsk,” ignoring the beasts out of his reach, Jaune prowled along the upper scaffolding, now looking more pointedly for the hidden and the obscured.

The clinic had indeed imparted upon him a most valuable lesson and one that he had already benefited from greatly. The bloodstained streets and hideaway alleys were riddled with hidden goodies ripe for the taking if one had the wherewithal to seek them out. It was a duty that required a tempered curiosity and a distinct awareness of one’s surroundings.

And the knowledge that barrels and crates made for good camouflage.

In the urban setting that was this plagued city, it seemed that someone or, more likely, many someone’s had taken advantage of misplaced goods and cargo to hide treasures and loot.

And passageways.

Jaune had found entire alleyways hidden behind stacked barrels. The very scaffolding he stood upon presently was only discovered by first getting around a wall of wooden freight. It was a boon to be aware of, for sure.

A fact that was only reinforced as he found yet another occluded doorway.

“… This is starting to seem almost common,” Jaune grunted in dissatisfaction, shoving a barrel aside as he pressed on.

Behind the barrels was yet another area marred by makeshift scaffolding, degrading the stone architecture with ramshackle add-ons. Wooden slats and beams spread and attached to the architecture of Yharnam like an aging scab entangled with loaded sacks and aged ropes.

It was, in fact, a shoddily made bridge that stretched from the large aqueduct building to a partition between abodes. A singular, solitary space, having the appearance of a lonesome balcony bereft of a building to attach to.

Jaune quickly analysed the space, noting some sacks, a few barrels, and a singular light source in the form of a lamp secured to the left wall.

And, of course, a heavily cloaked figure standing below said light’s radiance.

The figure stood overlooking a traditional spiked Yharnam balcony with its back to Jaune. Their entire form was cloaked, a pointed cap atop their shrouded self. Jaune estimated them to be about his height… possibly taller, but it was hard to say, with their headwear earning them extra reach.

Jaune’s approach had not been quiet; the moving of the shoddy wooden barrel would have no doubt been audible to even the most addled of ears. But yet, this mysterious stranger did not so much as twitch at his approach, allowing Jaune to close the distance.

‘Feathers…’

The stranger’s cloak was no mere covering of cloth or leather but a wrap of long black feathers cascading down the stranger’s back, concealing them like the wings of some oily avian. This comparison was only heightened when Jaune took one step too many, and this mysterious feathered figure turned to address him.

Where there should have been a face was instead a long bone-white beak that ended in a sharp point.

Instinct made his hand fall to his pistol, for once burdened with a near-full supply of ammunition. The mask did not so much as twitch at his blatant move for his gun; this, strangely enough, made Jaune calm somewhat.

“Oh,” a woman’s voice emanated from behind the mask, “a Hunter, are ya? And an outsider?”

Jaune did not respond. There was no need; his attire was that of the workshop’s make, and he already knew, thanks to Gilbert, that his scent gave away his nature as a foreigner.

“What a mess you’ve been caught up in.”

Jaune could soundly agree with that observation.

“And tonight of all nights.” The masked woman finished taking a breath, her beaked face shifting as she reached for something on her person. Jaune watched nervously as her hand drifted behind her person and pulled something from what he suspected to be a pouch.

He calmed upon observing what the beaked individual proffered. In their hand was a yellowed piece of parchment, frayed and singed, looking like nothing more than refuse. But it was upon closer inspection that Jaune discovered a symbol etched onto it.

The symbol was slightly faded, but Jaune could make out the gist of it, a single vertical line with two bent branches forking out of it to point downwards. It resembled a fork, and Jaune knew this.

But something in his mind twitched at the sight of the symbol. It was as if a part of him held some knowledge the rest didn’t. Some understanding, a kind of recognition, a familiarity… or…

‘Insight.’

“Here, to welcome the new Hunter.”

She stood there, arm outstretched, waiting for Jaune to take it, unperturbed by his suspicion and hesitance. But kindness what not so alien to Jaune that he could not yet recognise it, so removing his hand from his firearm, he took the offered parchment. Then, delicately tucked it away, hoping not to damage it further.

‘Perhaps someone else may know what the symbol means,’ Jaune thought, watching the masked woman.

“Prepare yourself for the worst. There are no humans left. They’re all flesh-hungry beasts, now.” Then, with her warning given, the masked woman turned away, dismissing Jaune and ending their dialogue.

Jaune had other ideas.

“… Excuse me-“

“Still lingering about? What’s wrong? A Hunter, unnerved by a few beasts? Heh heh…” she chuckled, causing Jaune’s back to go rigid.

“No, I-“

“No matter.” The masked woman placated, once more talking over Jaune, silencing his denials. Her voice shifted as she spoke once more, her words coming out in a considerate tone. “Without fear in our hearts, we’re little different from the beasts themselves.”

In the wake of her words, the mysterious woman uncrossed her arms and brushed her cape back, the feathers ruffling with the movement giving her a likeness of a bird ruffling its feathers. Then, her ‘preening’ done, she turned her head away again, dismissing Jaune, who was now feeling more than a little flustered.

“Pardon me miss-“

The bone-white mask whipped about far more fiercely this time, the woman speaking over Jaune with a definitive edge to her tone. “What are you still doing here? Enough trembling in your boots.”

The woman’s arms unfolded, her gaze focused on Jaune’s as she entered his space. Then, with a flutter of long flowing feathers, her arm brandished outward, directing him back the way he came. Then, in a manner that managed to both scold and lecture, she spoke four words that would come to define Jaune’s very nature.

“A Hunter must hunt.”

Jaune did not budge, though; no, he met that masked woman’s gaze with a stare of tempered steel.

The silence was tense, akin to the stillness of a hammer in free fall.

Just waiting to break.

Jaune struck first.

“Firstly… allow me to say that I am not here to cower, and I will be all too happy to depart in but a moment, madam. But first, allow me to undergo a rather obscure outsider display. I pray you to pardon my foreign antics, but from where I come from, social interaction between strangers tend to begin as such….”

Jaune took a half step back before inclining his torso forward in the shallowest of bows, his eyes never leaving the masked woman’s. “Good evening, I am Jaune, a Hunter and indeed an outsider… and whom might you be?”

Jaune’s sardonic introduction was met with silence, the woman’s mask granting her an unfair advantage as he could not witness her reaction. He hoped his visible skin did not give him away as he was struck with intense and immediate regret.

‘Stupid Jaune! Why would you act a fool in front of someone you just met!? Manners be damned, you fool, control your bloody temper!’ Jaune ranted inside his head as he slowly straightened himself back up, his observation of the woman now substantially more nervous.

His worries were for not, however.

A chortle slipped from behind that still, pointed beak as the stranger brought a hand to rub over her temple. “Oh, has it been so long since I last conversed? My, what a poor showing,” She exclaimed humorously.

Taking a moment, the masked woman mimicked Jaune, taking a half step back and performing a well-mannered bow, her own much more so than Jaune’s. “Hail, fellow Hunter, I am Eileen, Eileen the Crow, and I ask you your forgiveness. It seems I forgot my manners for a moment.”

Jaune felt a tremendous sense of relief, his whole body relaxing as he let a chuckle of his own pitter out of his happy features, the noise carrying his pent-up anxiety. “There is nothing to forgive in truth, this is no night for niceties, and I let my temper slip its reins. So why don’t we forget such a terse exchange and allow ourselves to move on instead?”

“A splendid idea, young man,” Eileen praised, bobbing her masked head in the affirmative.

“Wonderful, then in the spirit of things, if it is not a trespass, may I know if you too are a Hunter, Miss Eileen?” Jaune enquired.

Another nod proved Jaune’s suspicions correct.

“Indeed I am, but not one as you would know. My prey is not the rancid beasts that litter the streets… Instead, I hunt a different mark,” Eileen explained, her voice taking on a grim countenance.

“Oh?”

“Yes, but enough about me; what of you? A foreigner out and about on this dreadful evening more curiously here by the aqueducts?” Eileen pried, tilting her head much like her namesake.

“Oh, right, I am here looking for a manner to secure myself passage through to the Cathedral Ward… Oh, and for any clues pertaining to Paleblood,” Jaune hastily clarified, remembering the clinic note.

“On the matter of this ‘Paleblood’, I can be no aide as I have not heard of such,” Eileen shrugged, recrossing her arms as she shifted her weight. “But regarding getting into Cathedral Ward… there, I may be able to proffer some assistance.

“Truly!” Jaune elatedly exclaimed.

“Heh, it would be my pleasure, best to help the new blood… and it would do a lot to put my poor behaviour out of my mind,” Eileen declared.

“Now, tell me, have you heard of Oedon Chapel?”

YVYVYVYVY

It is a bizarre phenomenon that causes one’s perception of time to accelerate. It all slips away in the moments of joy or, antithetically, how it seems there is never enough between oneself and the inevitable.

Jaune found his thoughts ruminating on such as he did his best to put the sound of the approaching thunder out of his mind.

It was like a war was being fought above his head as lightning flashed in the heavens and thunder roared furiously. The very bones in his body felt these mighty crashes as yet another flashing bolt sundered the sky above.

Or at least he assumed it did.

The sky was somewhat out of his sight at the moment.

His gaze was much lower.

*Snort*

His thoughts stilled, the train halted, and the tracks demolished.

The hunt took over.

The wildlife of Sanus was beautiful and varied. With so many unique ecosystems, the number of species was almost countless, and many were still to be discovered. Why, just last year, before Jaune was forced to leave school, he had researched a new breed of rodent.

Of course, he had been researching them for a different reason than pure academic curiosity.

Sky had seen one on the news and said she would like it as a pet.

Who was he to deny her a ridiculously large hamster?

Sadly, it had been all for naught as his mother had taken one look at it and said in no uncertain terms that if she ever laid eyes on a rodent of that size in her house, she would ‘burn the whole thing down.’

Hellebore did not like rodents.

Even ones that rode atop the heads of giant carnivorous reptiles.

The point being Sanus was home to many different kinds of creatures, some of whom defied reason or common sense. But, unfortunately, many would be unlikely ever to see some of these wonderful creatures because there were only two zoos in Vale. One was at the capital, and the other was recently opened in Bastion.

The only other way to see these creatures was to venture into the wilds.

As such, only a few would ever see a full-grown Valean Pit Boar.

At least not while it was still breathing.

They were some of the most successful species in Vale, boasting an impressive size greater than any domesticated meat swine and with a much different appearance. With a prominently arched back, girthier head, and stouter neck with slightly longer legs, it would be impossible to mistake them for a regular hog.

The one approaching Jaune was a male; its tusks were prominent but uneven, with one broken off and therefore shorter.

It also had a massive claw mark down its left flank.

And that was the cusp of being a wild animal in Remnant. It didn’t matter how big, fierce, or powerful you were because you were an animal in the end. And Remnant belonged to the Grimm.

Amusing to think that the first Grimm Jaune had ever killed was a smaller pig than the one approaching him. Even more so was that the Grimm he had slain, despite being a fresh spawn, was still more dangerous.

While Grimm did not actively hunt the wildlife of Remnant, there was the unfortunate reality that most, if not all, Grimm were territorial to varying degrees. Judging from the scar on the pig’s flank, Jaune was reasonably confident it was a Beowolf that gave it that nasty swipe.

Jaune wondered if the boar gave as good as it got.

*Snort*

The large male was the head of a small herd; seven other adult pigs were scattered about nearby, with four piglets by Jaune’s count. Jaune was of two minds concerning this; on one side, killing one pig, even the herd head, would most likely not be detrimental as there was already a fresh litter.

On the other hand… Swine.

With this final thought, Jaune bit down the urge to clench. He could not afford to move a muscle.

Not so much as a twitch could be permitted.

Boars were far from the only dangerous creature that roamed these parts. There were also large felines and canids. In addition, he heard tales of several predatory birds that could undoubtedly constitute a threat and even supposedly a type of sloth he should look out for.

That last one genuinely perturbed him.

But the real threat around these parts was bears, specifically Cave Bears, as this mountainous region was their natural habitat. Jaune had kept his eyes open for signs of said beasts. It was a well-recorded fact that a Cave Bear defending its territory could be as dangerous as an Ursa.

If somewhat less bullet resistant.

To Jaune, the true purpose of the entire Rite was to put one in a position to face the fiercest facets of nature to better prepare them for the unnatural. As vicious as lions, wolves, and bears may be, all would crumble before an honest Hunter who wielded Aura. These pigs were no different; they were not monsters, not Grimm and certainly not those who had imbibed the beastly scourge.

These were prey.

And the male that now stood less than three feet from him would fill his gut.

Another crack of thunder above caused the creature to flinch, but Jaune was not too concerned with the idea of it fleeing. He had planned this from when he first discovered this clearing and the treasure hidden in its shrubbery.

Located an hour’s walk north from his clearing, tucked into a rocky indent that Blackreach Mountain shadowed, was the grove Jaune had been led to when he allowed himself to explore. His nose had ensured he found this little space in the old woods and its hidden treasure.

The space was abundant with small clumped mushrooms, hidden amongst the waist-high vegetation and nearly impossible to spot with one’s eyes. But they produced a nutty odour that Jaune could not help but be drawn to, thinking them a food source. Truthfully he had not found them appetising, and he had been ready to forsake the clearing making sure to note it as a food local if he ran out of all others.

Then he found the boar skull.

It had been the first hint of what the clearing was, and when he had uncovered fallen teeth, broken tusks, scrapings, and shallow ditches, he knew what he had found.

A pig foraging ground.

It was in that instant that he knew what he needed to do. So he planned, he gathered, and then he prepared. His plan was simple; no moving parts meant less room for hiccups.

His body could only wield a fraction of the strength he had once boasted, his body no longer the one he had inhabited in that city of horror. So he needed to compensate. He would need to strike first and strike hard; he could not afford a chase. He would have to lure his prey close; his strike needed to land true. Finally, he needed to strike where it was most vulnerable; he might not get a second chance.

He would need to be unseen.

That was where the plane came in.

And it was working.

The boar was now practically atop him. He could reach out and touch it with his bare hand if desired. It was anxious, the storm up above ensuring that the beast was ready to react at a moment’s notice. But its attention was directed the wrong way.

*Snort, Snuff, Snuff.*

It continued to drag its wriggling snout across the dirt, its tusks occasionally tearing up the topsoil in its quest for sustenance. Yet despite their proximity, it could not smell Jaune, which was just as planned.

Jaune could strike.

But he wanted it closer still.

The swine took another step.

Then another half step as its nose finally found what it was looking for.

Audible chuffs, a short squeal as it eagerly tried to reach the buried fungus.

Jaune felt the dirt stir.

He struck.

*Squehgggg!*

He burst from the soil like a viper, one hand coming out of the ground to grasp a tusk, the clumpy swine bait flung into the air with abandon. His other hand clasped firmly about his spear, now tipped with a sharpened flint spearhead, thrust forward into the soft meat of the pig’s throat.

It slid in easily.

Jaune’s not insignificant strength drove it deeper, the weapon sinking through meat and cartilage into critically essential arteries. It slipped in until the spear was inserted into the ungulate’s chest cavity.

Its panicked squeal cut off as his spear opened its airway, the noise sufficient to scatter the rest of the herd, but that was of little consequence to Jaune. With his spear already as deep as it could quickly go, Jaune heaved himself upwards, reaching out with his free hand to clutch the tusk furthest from him.

With a twisting jerk and shove motion Jaune brought the pig to the ground, leading it by its head and worsening the gaping hole in its jugular. The swine bucked and fought against this, but it succeeded in little else than causing Jaune’s spear to ravage its internals.

With the creature grounded, Jaune pivoted, his knees scraping through the dirt as he wrenched his spear free, his thighs coated in the viscous spray of warm blood. Gurgling cries continued to bubble out of the mortally wounded beast, the soft utterances a forecast of the end.

An end Jaune brought about swiftly.

*Krack*

Jaune destroyed the creature’s cervical vertebrae in a single downward swing, the wedge-shaped axe head of his first tool devastating the beast’s neck. Jaune ended the beast’s dying struggles, stilling the now fallen beast almost entirely save a few innocuous twitches.

The area was plunged into an oppressive silence.

Then the sky rumbled once more. Jaune spared the world above a cautious glance, sighing as his blood settled and his muscles relaxed. His first breath ignited something inside of him as he smelt the blood anew, but amusingly his hunger staved off any unpleasantness.

He would eat well tonight.

But first preparation.

Jaune could not help but smile at the idea of finally having some red meat again. Of course, it had only been a handful of days since he last partook of said substance, but Jaune was highly fond of the food group.

Nuts and fish could only do so much to satiate even if they did stave off his hunger.

“Not bad sprout!”

Jaune turned and gave an appreciative wave to Orr, who had just appeared again, probably curious about the ruckus he and the boar had caused. She had agreed to stay back not to impede his ambush, which Jaune was grateful for because otherwise, all his time would have gone to waste.

“Now you can go and scrub off all the pig shit!”

“…”

There was that facet of things as well. Jaune had needed to mask his scent in a way that wouldn’t alert the herd to any strangeness.

Pig feces had been the obvious answer.

But Jaune was ready to be rid of it, so it seemed time to take another dip in the creek.

Kos help anything downstream.

YVYVYVYVY

Just as he knew it would, the rain came.

Jaune was drenched, but it was okay; he and his clothes were already wet from his bath, so it made little difference. If anything, the rain was helping as he was gutting and cleaning his kill. He did so with practised ease, his mind focusing more on the facets his father taught him than his other experience with butchering prey.

The track back through the words was more demanding than usual. Mud clung to his feet, making it an effort to trudge on. The sky was dancing with lightning and thunder, and the wind whipped the branches of the trees into flailing limbs.

The worst part was his stomach rumbling as if to add to everything else his body chose now to remind him that it was hungry.

The proverbial cherry on top, as it were.

When Jaune returned to his camp, he hurried to his newest construction, a simple shelter partially built using the branches of the tree above. He immediately placed his kill on the floor, his mind already going over how to best cut and store it while he hung up his clothes.

Sitting on the floor and positioning a half log before him, Jaune went about portioning and sorting the meat. His face was the picture of anticipation, thinking about how he had forsaken eating the past two days to get more work done. It was irritating at the time but well worth it now as the storm crashed down above his head.

A true testament to his hunger was that despite the meat still being raw, his mouth was already salivating at the idea of what would come.

A small part of Jaune prayed; that was all it salivated for.

He tossed such concerns aside with a shake of his dripping head; he needed to focus; the storm was only worsening, and he was still drenched to the bone. But, first things first, he needed to preserve his meat.

Luckily he had the forethought to gather firewood while things were still dry. He had enough to last him a long while, but if he sacrificed half of it, he could have a proper smoking operation in the shelter. But, of course, it just meant he had to hope the rain did not last too long; otherwise, he would have to find dry fuel.

Another boom of thunder shook the world as if to remind him why that would be very bad.

But the meat was worth it.

To the percussion of furious rain and earth-shaking thunderclaps, Jaune crafted a fire pit, keeping the flames small. He had undergone lessons on tending an animal’s meat and hide with his father, so he was confident in his ability. He wasn’t sure what to do with the boar pelt if anything, but he went through the trouble of scraping it so he would hold onto it for now.

It was no significant loss if it rotted, thanks to the rain.

With his work done, Jaune admired the dangling pieces of boar with pride; there was a good supply of meat, which gave Jaune a sense of comfort to see it so available. He would not go hungry for days if he rationed it well.

‘Savour the flesh of yet another slain swine.’

Jaune’s pride wilted as his mind was again forcefully pulled back towards memories he had no desire to linger on.

‘Damn it all.’

Picking the cut he had chosen to eat as his meal for today, Jaune hurried back to his den, his flesh now dry thanks to the efforts of his new smoker. As he crawled back into his hole, he spared one moment to give a cursory wave to Orr, who was in a new tree today.

The sound of her cursing was music to his ears.

He knew that his ability to find her bothered her immensely, and it was possibly rather meanspirited of him to now actively search her out for his amusement. But on the flip side, his knowing her location wasn’t detrimental to the test and might even help refine her stealth techniques.

Plus, it was fun.

Padding over his bedding, which was nothing more than his travel cloak over some dried foliage that he had gathered, Jaune began to prepare his fireplace to cook his fresh cut of pork. Of course, it would have to be on a hot rock, but luckily with the nearby creak and Blackreach Mountain, there were plenty of nice flat stones in the area for all manner of use.

Swiftly the scent of raw flesh was obliterated as the large cut of meat sizzled atop the hot rock, the warmth of which worked wonders to heat his den. Jaune watched it with half a mind, focusing instead on the walls and ceiling of his sleeping space. This would be his first test on the effectiveness of his shelter against harsh weather, so it demanded some alertness.

So far, it has been doing well.

Deciding that his time would be better spent on other endeavours, Jaune’s focus instead came to rest on a piece of flint. Then, with a fresh wave of determination sparked by the scent of his dinner being cooked, Jaune decided to try his hand at more knapping. His last attempts had yielded a singular success in the form of his spearhead.

“This time… let’s try for two,” Jaune declared confidently, his mind set on accomplishing more than he had previously.

*Snap*

“… Dammit.”

Were it so easy.

YVYVYVYVY

Few things were darker than a stormy night, especially in the deep woods. It was the kind of night where one envies the Faunus blessed with night vision. The dark seems so much more physical, thanks partly to the wall of water creating an obscuring curtain that only the lightning above seemed to cut through.

Such observations were all too easy to make when sleep refused to come.

“Cursed thoughts…” Jaune breathed, rolling over again, aggravated that his mind was restless despite the day’s labour.

He had a full stomach, a warm fire, everything he needed, yet still, he could not sleep, the rest he desired eluding him. The space near his feet was littered with the results of his attempts at knapping, both successes and failures gathered in a corner. He had even tried his hand at carving a handle for a new knife.

It was… all right.

It would work, but Jaune found he disliked it for some reason.

‘Should look for a different wood… ash?’ he thought idly, his hands drumming on his ribs. The sound of an audible crack from above his head had him look to the fireplace, the glow of the embers illuminating the remaining pork he had yet to eat.

And the bone jutting out of it.

‘Now there is an idea…’ Jaune hummed as another thunderclap washed over the world.

Another groan slipped from his throat, coming out far more guttural as his ire grew to new heights. He just wanted to sleep, but for some inane reason, he was on edge, his mind stirring like the storm clouds above. Thoughts of his past and ideas for his future battling it out over a growing pool of concern and aggravation.

“To hell with it,” Jaune snarled, getting up and crawling out of his den, the cold of the outside world slapping him in the face. Jaune quickly moved to the shelter, tossing a few more pieces of wood atop the smouldering firepit, giving the meat a cursory sniff.

All in the name of distraction.

‘I could try and make something, check the gutters I made or… Orr!’ Jaune thought excitedly, turning to the tree, he knew her to be in. Squinting his eyes, he could make out a shape in the crook of some branches, a figure he knew to be Orr, even if it did look like a grey blob.

Jaune mulled over the pros and cons of beckoning her over, considering whether it would bother the woman and if doing so was worth it to help distract him from his thoughts. His decision was made for him when his mind inadvertently recalled the last time he had questioned something in the rain.

A memory of a raspy voice, pleading to the grey sky as droplets of water laden with curses pooled within a nightmare.

‘Curse them-‘

Jaune let out a shrill whistle so loud the rain seemed quiet in comparison.

Like a blur, she was there, a heavy raincoat over her body and her boots splashing in the muck as she stopped suddenly.

“What’s up, sprout? Tell me you ain’t heading out in this weather cause if you are, I might conk you on the head to spare myself the trouble,” Orr warned, threateningly hefting one of her war picks, her voice raised to be heard over the storm.

‘It’s telling that I am considering it,’ Jaune thought as he tried not to twitch at the intrusive thought of fighting Orr.

“… How are you?” Jaune asked politely.

Orr stared at him blankly.

“Nice weat-“

“Finish that, and I will hit you,” she warned, causing Jaune to smile.

“… Did you know that as the officiator, you have the right to investigate my abode to ensure that I am not cheating?” Jaune brought up, running a hand through his hair.

“Huh?”

“Just… thought it was something I should mention, keep things above board.”

“You want me to check out your sleeping hole?”

Jaune tensed at this, his eyes not meeting Orr’s as he replied stubbornly, “that’s not what I said.”

“Tonight of all nights, you choose to bring this up… while naked….” Orr sighed.

“I am not naked,” Jaune rebutted.

“Yes, because asking a grown-ass woman into your ‘den’ while in just your underwear is such a major step up,” Orr deadpanned.

Jaune, without talking, reached over for his pants to see if they were dry. Finding that they were, he swiftly slid them on, noting they smelt very strongly of smoke.

“… I have pork.”

“…”

“…”

“…Fuck it, I’m in,” Orr surrendered.

“Great!”

Jaune hurried back to his den, crawling down ahead of Orr to clear a space for her to sit; he was a good bit taller than Orr, so she hopefully wouldn’t feel cramped. The sound of scuffing dirt alerted him to the fact that she had entered his abode; her appreciative whistle causing a flash of pride to flare to life in his chest.

Turning to face his guest, Jaune made a note of the fact that she had been kind enough to cast off her muddy boots and her raincoat, leaving her in the clothes he was familiar with. He wondered if she had brought only one pair or had a supply cache somewhere. Did she have soap? He couldn’t smell anything on her, including body odour, so he suspected she had scentless soap of some variety.

“Damn… I thought it would be way more cramped here,” Orr commented.

“Oh, it was, believe me, but I spent some time widening it before I put in the fireplace; I don’t want to risk the structure, so I won’t be going any further than this,” Jaune explained with his back turned, as he was busy grabbing Orr some of the promised pork.

“Here you are, wild pork, flame grilled; please enjoy,” Jaune hummed, passing Orr the flat rock he used as a makeshift plate.

“*Sniff* damn… that smells pretty good,” Orr approved.

“Mm, I am partial to red meat… pig meat is especially delightful to devour,” Jaune commented, a flash of something in his eyes.

Orr chose to ignore it and focus on the free food. She bit into the meat and found that while far more gamey than regular pork, it was no less enjoyable. Like the trout he had gifted her, it was plain, with no spices or herbs, but the meat's flavour alone was superb. Flame grilled pork beat cardboard ration any day of the week.

“Oh, that’s good… tough, but gramps didn’t raise no lady,” Orr admired, enjoying her first bit of red meat in a while.

Jaune smiled, going so far as to show off his teeth. “If you want, I can cook up some more?”

Orr paused in her eating at this, looking up from the food with a concerned expression, “kid, I don’t think that would be proper?”

“Oh, I don’t believe it is against the rules?” Jaune commented, thinking back over the laws for the Rite.

“… No, it isn’t but… Jaune, you need this food, don’t you? Won’t it suck if you fail because you keep giving me all your food?” Orr pointed out.

“… It would, but I won’t fail, certainly not for lack of food,” he expressed confidently.

“You can’t know that, kiddo. Food isn’t a certainty out here,” Orr warned.

“I know, but….” Jaune sighed, fidgeting as he thought about what he wanted to say. “I am very confident in my ability to procure food.”

Orr would give him this; the kid was confident. She hoped it came from a place of reliability instead of foolishness because they were barely into this whole trial thing, and it would suck for it to be called off so early.

“Ms Orr, I promise you, I will not want for food, so please eat… think of it as you ensuring that my food is up to standard and above board,” Jaune expressed, chuckling to himself.

“You know that’s not one of my duties,” Orr argued, hiding her snort by taking another bite of her pork.

“Hmm, do I? I have a lot on my mind now, so maybe it simply got lost up there,” Jaune shrugged.

“Like what?”

“Pardon?”

“What are you thinking about?” Orr enquired, enjoying her pork, savouring the taste of the well-cooked meal.

“… Lots of things, knapping, food, crafting, carving, knife hilts, fish habitats, pigs… killing pigs….” Jaune trailed off, his mood souring.

“Pigs… Oh right! Your first Grimm was a Boarbatusk, right?” Orr erupted excitedly, “tell me about that!”

Jaune blinked owlishly at her, “huh?”

“Everyone ‘knows’ that you killed a Grimm when you were just a brat, so tell me about it? Were you scared? How big was it? How did you kill it? Give me details!” Orr commanded.

“… There really isn’t much to say, my sister, Jade screamed, so I went rushing to investigate… I saw the Grimm trying to attack her, and so I reacted,” Jaune sniffed, moving to poke at his fireplace, causing the light in the den to dance.

“Oh, come o-“A crack of thunder silenced Orr for a moment, the woman waiting until it passed before speaking. “You can do better than that, like ok, so it’s attacking Jade; what do you do? Did you just run up and punch it?”

Jaune snorted in amusement, “of course not. I found a weapon first; I was a five-year-old woman, not exactly the prime age for monster punching.”

“Yes, excuse me for not understanding how a five-year-old kills a Grimm. Now make with the explanation, buster,” Orr demanded, taking another large bite of her pork.

“Heh, I found a rock,” Jaune started crawling over to his knapping pile and picking up the stone he used for shaping. “roughly this big, but it had a sharp point, barely fit in my hands back then. It was making so much noise that I just got behind it and slammed it into its back leg as hard as possible.”

“And that worked?”

“Not exactly… had to do it a few more times, all while avoiding its charges and whatnot… bastard got me with a good kick and rolled over my leg doing that dumb spinning thing they do-“

“Where they roll around really fast, yeah.”

“Yes, that exactly. But eventually, I broke its damn leg… with it crippled, I simply took advantage and changed targets….” Jaune trailed off, remembering how it felt to sink his hand into the Boarbatusk’s guts, the satisfaction of killing it, the enjoyment he derived from slaying another pig-like monster.

Killing the boar today paled in comparison.

“Oh, come on! Please don’t leave me hanging here, sprout. How did you finish it off?” Orr queried, bouncing in her seat.

“… I got it on its back… and then I ripped its vile guts out,” Jaune uttered darkly, remembering how he used the Visceral Attack, arguably one of the darkest Hunter techniques, to claw out the innards of that wretched swine.

“Damn, all that with a rock?” Orr breathed, amazed.

“… Yes, it was all I had with me at the time,” Jaune shrugged, deciding not to go into further detail.

Orr took another bite, chewing while a low rumble from above filled the silence.

“I can see why people don’t believe it… even with the investigation in the area, it’s hard to imagine a kid beating a Grimm with just a rock,” Orr announced as she observed Jaune for his reaction.

“It is indeed quite a tale, but it is not one I enjoy sharing… that day is not one I look back on regularly,” the blond explained, running a hand through his hair again.

“How come?”

“You are very inquisitive…”

“Oh, sorry, did you invite me into your bedroom for something besides a meal and some conversation?” Orr teased, her expression coy as she quirked a single brow upwards.

“… Fair point. It was because my sister nearly died, and it was discovered that day that I had amnesia… I still cannot recall anything from before the Boarbatusk,” Jaune admitted, the half-truth sucking the levity out of the atmosphere like a sponge.

“Huh?” the older woman exclaimed. “What do you mean amnesia?”

“I lost my memories, almost all of them, I didn’t even recognise my family at first, but luckily that passed… anything before that day is lost. Believe me; it was the cause of no small amount of trouble. It caused a lot of strife between me and my older sisters but… we are better now,” Jaune finished with a smile.

“Holy shit, I didn’t know that. Your parents never said….” Orr whispered, feeling a hint of guilt at her prying.

“It’s of little consequence now, I suppose, the memories I lost… well, they were all from my very early years. I like to think that I have since recaptured anything I forgot….” Jaune proclaimed, tossing his shaping rock back into the pile.

“It still bothers you, huh?”

“A little, it is disconcerting to be aware that there is something you should know but don’t… even more so when you don’t know what it is you don’t know… if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, sorta…”

The storm took hold once more as neither spoke.

“I am glad you at least recalled your family… your parents love you a lot,” Orr said, trying to mend any harm she inadvertently caused.

“I am too… my family mean everything to me,” Jaune proudly admitted.

“I can understand that,” Orr smiled.

Jaune shuffled in his spot, turning more to face Orr, “do you get to see your family often?”

Orr hearing his question put down her plate, “not super frequently, but whenever I make a trip to the capital, I make sure to drop by and say hi to my gramps.”

Jaune brightened up noticeably at this, “your grandfather lives in the capital… what’s he like?”

Orr beamed, “oh, he is a riot; he taught me everything there is to know about being a Huntress. He has been everywhere, done everything and can go on for hours about his adventures. Honestly, it’s getting him to shut up that’s the trick, but I love him to death. He’s a big-time instructor at Beacon.”

Jaune’s features widened in surprise as he took a moment to process this new information.

“An impressive role, no doubt; he must be very talented,” Jaune complimented.

“Heh, he ain’t a pushover, that’s for sure. He fought in the Faunus Rights Revolution, ya know. So despite being tough as nails, he is actually old as dirt,” Orr joked.

“He didn’t serve in the Great War?” Jaune enquired.

“No, and he only served in the later half of the Revolution; he was young then, and he got pulled into things in a bad way… he doesn’t like to talk about it too much, understandably,” Orr finished killing that particular line of questioning.

“I can believe it, the little I know about the FRR leads me to believe that it was not nearly as impactful on Vale as the Great War, but I know that the northern settlements still had numerous skirmishes,” Jaune commented, remembering the reading he had done.

What little he did know about the revolution was tied to its relationship to the Great War and how it was thanks to the arming of countless Faunus that allowed it to occur in the first place. With the other race becoming tightly intermingled within all militaries worldwide, they were perfectly staged to begin their Revolutionary War.

To varying degrees of success across the world.

“Yeah… Gramps never told me those stories, not until he took me out for my first drink when I graduated Beacon… not the happiest memories, but I learned a lot that day,” Orr recalled gravely.

Jaune decided it was time for a lighter topic, “so, was it he who trained you.”

Orr brightened up immediately, “hell yeah, he did! He even got a job at Beacon to keep an eye on me, and after I graduated, he decided he liked the job so much that he just stuck around. He is a stubborn old walrus.”

“That’s nice, your grandfather wanting to be close to you like that,” Jaune chuckled.

“It was… made dating a bitch, though,” Orr deadpanned.

Jaune snorted at this.

Orr gave a dry cackle of her own, “welp,” she started, “it’s getting late, and you probably want to sleep, so-“

“I can’t; that’s why I invited you in. It seemed like a better way to pass the time than laying down pointlessly,” Jaune admitted sourly.

“Ahh, I knew you just wanted to use me,” Orr jokingly sulked.

“Please stop.”

“Never. Well, tell you what, since you’re the host of our lovely evening in together-“

“Stop.”

“- then you have a responsibility to entertain… tell me a story.”

Jaune looked at Orr as if she were senseless, “a story?”

“Yeah, send me off with a fairy tale, make me feel young again,” she said, winking.

“I will throw water at you,” Jaune warned, taking back the plate with the wild pork and sliding it into his fireplace. A few bites were left on the bone, and he could have them for breakfast tomorrow.

“Not if you wanna live, you won’t. Now hit me with a bedtime story,” the mature Huntress demanded.

“… I do not know any fairy tales, but I do know… stories, I suppose, if you are sure,” Jaune warned.

“Yeah, I am a big girl. I can handle it,” Orr confirmed.

“… Once upon a time-“

“Pretty cliché,” Orr joked.

“Do you want a story or not, woman,” Jaune barked, embarrassed.

“Sorry, sorry, take it away.”

“… Once upon a time, there was a Hunter, a Moon and a Monster….”

That night as the storm’s wrath bombarded the world, Jaune took comfort in the company of another. His tale was nothing more than a memory made whimsical, but the ending put a smile on his face and left his mind at ease.

After all, never again would he have to behold a full moon.

YVYVYVYVY

Far from the den of the survivor of the eternal night, the darkness stirred.

The alluring scent of old pain lured the shadows from their crevices and hideaways. Oh, wounds unhealed not on the body but the spirit. Hidden from the world but pungent to the senses of those monsters that thrive on the festering of the soul.

Such are the Creatures of Grimm.

Drawn forth to the negativity of all sapient species, driven to destroy as their nature dictates, the abominations that plagued Remnant. Battered by rain and wind, they continued their approach, delayed but not halted, slowed but not deterred.

They gathered slowly, joining one at a time until they were a sizeable group, a small mob of bodies ready to ravage and slaughter. Snouts, beaks and noses breathing in the scent of anxiety, stress, and old grief unwept.

Repressed but not well enough.

Never enough.

As the heavens erupted, so too did they cry out, a noise eagerly summoning their ilk.

Their prey was within reach.

YVYVYVYVY

“Fuck!”

*Crunch*

Jaune wheezed, the air rushing from his lungs as he quickly rolled the crate that had ‘broken’ his fall falling to pieces as he moved.

The sound of metal cracking stone was enough to have him back to his feet as he looked back and saw the space he had occupied now filled by a lanky beastly figure wielding a sharpened metal pole.

Jaune wheezed as he drew his pistol up and fired.

Red bloomed from the beast’s chest as it staggered back, yowling like a booted cat, Jaune switching his pistol for his sword in a flurry. With a coughing splutter, he lashed out, his movement janky as his lungs burned and his breathing battled against him.

His silver sword swung wide, catching the pole; Jaune cursed, the words exiting his mouth as a choked rasp. The beast retaliated; it batted his sword aside the weapon flung into the sewer proper, sinking into the filth with a few boats.

Its second swing took him in the ribs.

His breath, nearly regained, was stolen anew, along with the sturdy form of his ribs as they cracked noisily, yielding beneath the blow.

He was thrown back, his body soaring through the air across the sewer channel to the opposite side of the hall.

Where he was stopped, his momentum cushioned by something soft and warm.

And with teeth.

A giant rat, eyes bulbous and a sickly greenish-yellow mix, stared at him wildly as its fangs tore into his shoulder.

Those same eyes suffered Jaune’s revenge.

He clasped one in his hand, squeezing it as he tried to scream in pain, but it came out instead as a hideous rasping hiss as the ocular organ exploded in his grip. The rat’s screech was far more audible.

It released Jaune, allowing him to hurl his body away from the now half-blind rodent and its compatriots.

Three unnaturally large rats hissed at him, their giant fangs coated in stinking drool that pooled over their lips and down to their feet.

*Clang*

Jaune’s head whipped around; the afflicted man crawled up from the gutter, his snarling fangs snapping at him.

Jaune was trapped.

He needed space.

He tried to move, but his foot landed on something, the scraping sound of metal accompanying him as he stumbled.

He looked down, and something inside him flared.

Recognition.

Saw Spear.

The rat he had maimed screeched, barrelling forward, eager to repay his ‘kindness’.

It died twitching, impaled on a long, curved blade; Jaune’s teeth bared as he pushed the weapon into its open mouth.

The other rats hissed, and a grunt alerted Jaune to the presence of the plagued Yharno, but even better was the sound of more scampering claws.

Two more giant rats came around the bend, entering into the lacking moonlight.

“… Curse this fucking city,” Jaune snarled, bringing his boot down on the impaled rat, its flesh squelching in protest at him wrenching his blade free.

He also injected a fresh Blood Vial into his chest, grunting at the feeling of new vigour swelling.

The plagued monsters before him snarled and hissed. Jaune, gritting his teeth, watched them, his eyes dancing between them, looking for a hint of what was coming.

The rats moved first.

The two new arrivals dashed forward, fangs bared.

Jaune rushed the one closest to the edge of the drain, a rasping war cry exploding from his abused chest as he swung his new weapon around.

Serrated teeth and cold steel crunched into its foreleg, destroying the limb and sending the monstrous rodent into the foul layer of filth below. The second tried to hamstring him, but Jaune’s feet were quicker, dancing away from its gnashing teeth.

His retaliation was swift, the saw weapon tearing open its rear, the meat of its thigh splitting like overripe fruit before the biting edge.

The others rushed forward.

Jaune sneered.

He was forced to backpedal, his spear swinging threateningly at the rodents, keeping them at bay as he did his best to avoid the infected man’s swings. But he was driven back, his space running out as the beasts tried to make prey of him.

A good swing.

That’s all it took, a misstep, a lucky shot, a missed parry.

Death needed no further invitation.

The partially transformed man’s pole swung up the sharpened tip tearing up his face, splitting his lips, destroying the left side of his nose and batting away his tricorn hat.

Half of Jaune’s vision was drowned in red, blood painting half his face as the afflicted man let loose an inhuman bellow.

Jaune leapt back, his saw spear scraping along the stones, his motion putting him with his back to the wall.

Panic tried to take hold but was tamed, broken and redirected to usher his thoughts instead towards constructive thinking.

He could go for his pistol, but it needed to be loaded.

If he still had his sword, he cou-

His vision was consumed with the sight of a rat, mid lunge, its long yellowed teeth like daggers baring down on his head.

He reacted.

*Crunch*

The giant rodent’s skull erupted, blooming in a grisly display as it was caught between the cold stone and the crushing force of Jaune’s Kirk Hammer.

The head of it, anyway.

The other creatures paused, eyes wide as Jaune peeled the hammer head off the ground, long fleshy strings clinging to it as he shot them a glare so venomous in a sane man they would have felt ill.

But these were not men.

Just beasts.

With his cowl split, Jaune unknowingly had a blood cake snarl painted on his visage. His torn lips peeled back across once ivory-white teeth that taunted the sickly things before him.

His blood sang!

This time the Hunter charged the beasts.

With his spear, he created space, the heavy serrated metal biting into the flesh of any who drew too close, and with the Kirk Head, he punished.

Flesh tore, bone snapped, and blood rained.

A rat with a shredded back leg was too slow to retreat, the Hunter’s twisting frame lashing out to dig his spear into its gut.

It did not move again, its offal cooling on the floor as its heart slowed.

Another thought it saw an opening.

It was mistaken and, for its hubris, had its jaw splattered across the floor, teeth and bone intermixed with devastated meat.

Then it was just the Hunter and the afflicted Yharnamite.

It snarled, its teeth jutting from its jaw like a savage mutt.

He snarled right back.

It rushed him, its pole swinging wildly, stone chipping and flaking with every swing, a testament to its beastly strength, if nothing else.

The Hunter spat, collapsing his saw spear, the action familiar and bizarrely comforting.

He weaved and blocked; his spear was quick and managed to stave off many a blow, while the Kirk head was heavy and would not yield easily.

The man-shaped beast tried for a lunge, the spear extending outwards for his groin.

The Hunter Leapt.

When he landed, he brought the Kirk head down.

The pole snapped like wood instead of the iron he knew it to be.

The Yharno stumbled, pulled forward by his weapons being forcefully driven into the ground.

Pulled into the range of biting metal teeth.

“Heragh!”

The spear unfolds, flesh parts and organs split, bone parting before the force of its transformation and an upwards swing.

The beast staggers, its innards cascading out of its shredded body, a grotesque red curtain flopping to the ground noisily.

But it doesn’t die.

It is collapsed, twitching, spasming, death slowly stealing away its life.

The Hunter does not care for such a pace.

The Kirk Hammer’s head descends.

*Crunch*

The body stills.

He takes a step back.

Jaune looks around and nods, satisfied with the carnage in his wake.

He moves to the edge of the filth-caked canal; looking down, he spots his sword but more than that, he spots the kicking form of the rat he bat aside. It had bled profusely. It’s breathing erratic and shallow.

His spear descends.

…

There is no mercy.

A.N.

So this chapter will be the last of peace for a while. The adjustment is made, the Grimm are returning to the woods, and this chapter was mainly to display Jaune’s reliance on people whether he admits it or not.

And his proficiency with a spear.

I love me some Saw Spear, but to be fair, I love most of Bloodborne’s arsenal.

I love some more than others.

Also, is anyone surprised that the rain is going to remind Jaune of the Fishing Hamlet? I was a bit heavy with the foreshadowing regarding the coming storm, but again a lot of this is written raw, so eh.

Anyway, I got blocked up again, so I wrote out a stray idea and might post it. I think we call them plot bunnies. I am unsure of the nomenclature, but it was a stray idea that was getting in the way of my writing, so I just wrote it to get my focus back.

Also, the Messenger vote is still ongoing because the next chapter will make decisions. Also, there will be a vote for what weapon you guys want Jaune to use next and by next, I mean against the next boss.

Because yeah, that’s coming up real soon.