Recap

 














Choices


That voice was...

1. >A woman's voice, resolute and fearless. The arms that cradled you were full of vigor and strength but her caress was surprisingly gentle. The woman's hair stands out in your mind - they were as red as the morning sky.
   
2. A man's voice, charming and confident. The air that blew past you rushed by like a storm - this man was fast. And despite his speed, he moved with an undeniable assurance in his own path. The threadbare brown cloak he wore obscured his features.
   
3. A young woman's voice, firm and quiet. You can remember the young woman's eyes sharp gaze focused on the path ahead of her. What struck you the most, however, were the triangular ears atop her head - they were the same shade of pick as he long hair.
   

And just like that, the dream ends and that vision fades into a sepia oblivion. You stir softly but refuse to open your eyes. Right now, your body is lying on something soft - further movement confirms that you're lying down in some sort of reclined chair. Your ears pick up on something muffled - engines perhaps? As you remain in your lucid state of half-sleep, you struggle to recall your current situation. You remember parting ways with someone and killing time by eating at some fast food joint - the meal was undeniably terrible (for you and your body). After forcing that down with copious amounts of fountain drinks, you ended up waiting for what seemed like a dull eternity in perhaps the longest line you've ever seen. And even after all that, the line just led to a checkpoint where some uniformed woman checked people for identification and handed them some high-tech gizmo that looked like a pane of glass. Wait, there was something noteworthy about the others who were subject to the same boredom of endless waiting as you were. Oh yeah, they were all wearing the same thing - dark blue blazers and scarlet ties. Slacks if they were guys and skirts if they were girls, obviously. You vaguely remember how they looked like tools.









Then the amusement stops when you recall that you were dressed the same way. You pat down your pocket and feel something rectangular hiding in there. Right, there's that high-tech gizmo - you're too tired to recall just what they were and their function. Then the line split into two different ones after that point - you can remember your confusion as they sorted you into the line with significantly less people. And though they were all in the same clothing as you were, something rubbed you the wrong way about these guys. Like, they were the kind of people you didn't want to run into in a back alley. Your instincts told you to run but you swallowed that trepidation and took your rightful(?) spot in line. The one or two gazes you felt on you made you feel as if you shrank down to the size of an insect. Maybe they were sizing you up? That sounds about right. 


After that uncomfortable period of time, the luggage you've been dragging around was taken by a burly guy with big round ears on the top of his head and you were led down a wide passage and into the belly of the beast. Having all but shut off your mind at this point, you groggily picked a seat and random and crashed on it. Getting up early to pack and commute was one thing, waiting in three or four different lines was another. Sleep came quick and the chatter from the stewardess transformed into background noise. That's right. You were taking a flight - and you're a new, first-year student. This was just the start of a new life! Whatever happened next would be decide the rest of your life! This was your future! This was your desti-


Your eyes snap open when you feel a warm breath tickle your nose. There, right in your face, is another face. They've got pale skin that looks like they've never been kissed by the sun's UV rays and sharp features. Black hair frames their face and their eyes are closed shut. Another breath rolls across your nose as you realize how close you are. Aaaaaaand, you freak right out. Your body jolts up as your back slams against the cabin window. Your mouth opens and you let out a scream.


"Gyaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"


"Wha- Aaaaaaaaaah?!" 


The two of you make your surprise known in the loudest way possible as his body also backs right up against his seat's arm rest. As you clutch your chest, two tufts on the person's head seem to pop up. Two distinctly large ears stab the air as they take a deep breath and quickly remove something shiny from their pocket. Your immediate response is to bring both hands up because holy shit are they going to shank you? Thankfully, no. The shine came from light reflecting of the lenses of their glasses. As they slip the vision-correcting accessory on, you take a moment to re-examine their person. Upon further inspection, it's a guy. He's fairly lean, though he's certainly taller than you now that you think about it. His eyes open slightly and you can make out two silver orbs gazing right at you. 


"O-Oh, my humblest apologies. I didn't know somebody else was sitting here - erm, my bad eyesight means that I've got to rely on my Semblance to get around. I mean, I saw a faint glimmer of light, but I thought it was someone's pet. N-Not that I'm saying that you're lower than someone's house pet or something!" The young man's voice is soft and the tension slowly disappears as he trips over himself trying to apologize to you. And, you see head or two popping down - looks like that outburst didn't go unnoticed. The tone he uses with you almost seems too practiced and polite - but you're also certain that he's completely sincere about this. He's got a small smile plastered on his bespectacled face. You can briefly recall mannerisms like that being fairly common in that one place you visited that one summer. 


Oh man, interaction. This is some pretty high level stuff, isn't it? Like, you didn't expect to have to talk to another living being as soon as you woke up. You wonder briefly if you look presentable. Though, you're pretty sure you've got a serious case of bedhead after that little nap time. Damn, how come his hair's all nice and tidy? He was sleeping too wasn't he? Maybe he uses some of those fancy imported haircare products or something. Wait, what's that? Right, you've gotta say something to him because right now you're just staring blankly right back at him. 










Choices


You respond naturally...

1. >"Nah, don't sweat it. I've got this condition where I blend into the background like a minor character - you're not the first to mistake me for an empty seat." You respond with a joke - that's always been your go-to when you have to deal with things after all. Though your jokes may can sometimes come off as ill-timed or innocently insensitive. As a whole, you're light-hearted and maybe a little too carefree for your own good. Hopefully, maybe you can get him to lighten up a little. Having a friend would be pretty nice. [JOKER]
   
2. "...It's alright, just forget about it." You respond brusquely and attempt to bury the issue as fast as possible. After one particular incident, you became more cynical - though you like to call your views 'realistic'. Every smile hides a knife in the dark and it's in our nature to be shifty and deceitful. You want to trust him, but you know better. It's best just to end this as soon as possible.The people who take things at face value are way too naive for the real world. But not you, you've hardened your heart against this harsh world. [JADED]
   

Nah, don't sweat it. I've got this condition where I blend into the background like a minor character." For added effect, you lean back in your seat and stare at him with a blank face. The young man claps as if he just saw a magic trick right before his very eyes. Mission accomplished, you suppose. The bespectacled youth offers a small smile and you smile right on back. For a second, you're worried that he's going to ask if your condition is real. But the pause is broken by a curt bow from him as he turns slightly in the seat towards you. 


"Introductions are in order then - my name is Ran Kurokage. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He's still speaking with the rigid formality of the East, it seems. Maybe that's just his nature. The bespectacled young man extends a hand to you - and you shake it firmly. As you break away from the contact you roll your neck and get comfortable in your seat.


"Likewise. My name's Niles Xenos." You can feel a few eyes boring into you as you speak your full name casually. Though your own name comes back to you fairly quickly, your mind jolts awake when you recall the full implications of your own name. The thing is, you're the son of a Carnelia Xenos. And apparently, she's quite a famous Huntress - you can recall the ornate golden trophies that adorn her study and several other medals on display. Though she didn't particularly like bragging about them, you do recall that she once lulled you to sleep with a story of how she won this fancy tournament in her youth. 


"Oh? Could you perhaps be relat-" You hold a finger to Ran's lips and hush him before he can continue that train of thought.


"Yeah, but well... let's just try and keep that under wraps, please? I'll be honest with you - I don't really like the attention." You can remember being swarmed by your classmates during your first day of Primary Combat School. You were practically stuck in the classroom for an hour as they bombarded you with questions and requests for sparring matches. At times like that, you feel overwhelmed by your mother's reputation. It isn't just that, however. You're well aware of your own inability to match up to her legacy. Being the only family you've ever known, you really don't want others to associate your lame ass with her.


"I see. It must be difficult being related to someone famous like her." Ran's voice has softened into a whisper and you can hear some brief murmurs from some of the other voices in the airship. You gaze around at some of the other faces. Immediately, you catch the red-eyed gaze of a white-haired girl who (I kid you not) makes a squeaking noise and pops down behind the safety of her seat. She's oddly familiar... Though you can't recall where you've seen her before. Remembering things has always been one of your weaknesses. For one, you can't recall anything before the age of 5 - meeting your mother is the start of your recollections. Then there was that one summer...


"Well, if we're talking about families, what're the Kurokages like then?" You turn your attention back to Ran as you briefly recall your mother's training. When you told her you wanted to be a Huntsman like her when you grew up, she gave you the warmest smile... and then dropped you off in the middle of the wilderness for a weekend. 'Suffering builds character Niles!' You were 7 at the time. Needless to say, you've developed a hatred of camping after that particular incident. At 10, you moved onto 'sparring' with her. In all honesty, it was three hours of getting your ass kicked by her weekly. Though she had the best intentions, you were always aware of her own lack of self-restraint and... bloodlust? That sounds about right. Even remembering all of that is enough to make you shudder slightly.


"Hmm... The Kurokage Clan is well... My family plays an integral role in Mistral society. Many of my relatives are Hunters, but I'm the first to attend Arcadia." Ran's tone almost seems hesitant. Perhaps it's a Mistral thing. At the very least, you're thankful that you're not the only student here who's enrolled in Arcadia Academy's normal program who comes from a Hunter family. You gaze at the ears atop his head once more. At this point, you're fairly certain that Ran's a Bat Faunus. Though, they only have one animalistic trait. Perhaps his terrible eyesight is just one of those beautiful coincidences in life. Either way, you don't really have a problem with them - your mother raised you with a tolerant mindset. 


"Mistral, huh? I'll be perfectly honest, the only exposure I've had to that Kingdom are the anime and manga that get imported from there." You say it like a joke, but you're being entirely honest. Hell, you spend some nights arguing on image boards over which girl is best in whatever show you've picked up for the season. You figure that Ran will either a) be disgusted with your gaijin ways or b) engage in discussion with you about it."


"Oh? Have you read ピンクダークの少年 then?" He smiles, his face shows some signs of surprise. Looks like it was the second option then. As you talk about the latest chapter of the Mistral comic with him, time passes by quickly. The conversation is also fairly civil - though you jokingly rib him about his apparent 'shit taste' when the discussion moves to some old harem series where the reverse trap won instead of the forgotten childhood friend or the smug heiress. He was apparently rooting for the kooky mad scientist. Ran still doesn't drop that polite formality even when he geeks out with you though. As you start talking about some slice-of-life shows about school clubs, Ran looks as if he's been struck by inspiration. 


"That reminds me Niles. Were you thinking about joining any clubs? My father was strict about an allowance, so I was thinking of joining the Textile Club to support myself." Ran pulls out a small sewing kit from the confines of his school uniform. You recall that Arcadia Academy's school clubs were more akin to small-scale corporations. With membership in a club, you were also basically granted a part-time job - part of the club's profits would return to you as a tidy paycheck. You bring a hand to your chin as you begin to recall the choice you made after you were accepted into Arcadia.






Choices


You wished to join the...

1. Literature Club. You've always been an avid reader. From what you remember from their recruiting page, the Literature Club also managed Arcadia Academy's official bookstore. Getting a discount on some of your required textbooks would probably save some money. You're also fairly sure that you'd get a chance to work at the docks. The Literature Club is one of Arcadia's biggest importers after all. Hell, you might even learn a thing or two about smuggling from the dockworkers. 
   
2. >Confectionary Club. Even from an early age, you've shown a great talent in the art of making desserts and candy. That talent doesn't apply to regular cooking though - it's the Cup Ramen life for you. The Confectionary Club has quite a few shops in Arcadia from what you remember. Their specialties range from Kingdom-based candies and treats to high-end luxury chocolates that take the craft to a whole 'nother level. Membership in a club like this will likely rake in a hefty paycheck and further your own natural talent. 
   
3. Fishing Club. Your mother's favorite pastime was fishing - though that involved copious amounts of explosions. You're sure that fishing in Arcadia's Grimm-infested waters isn't that much safer. However, the Fishing Club's boats are always accompanied by a squad of Arcadia's specialized maritime Hunters. Though you weren't able to follow your own dreams of becoming a Hunstman, maybe you can still learn something useful from watching these older students punching out sea monsters.
   

 


"Hmm... It came down to between the Literature Club and the Confectionary Club. I figured I might as well focus on my own strengths so I decided to apply for the latter." Although you're inept as a Huntsman, you've always taken pride in your own skills as a cook. Though, that skill seems to only extend to making sweets, pastries, and desserts of all kinds. It's strange, but you simply can't apply the same amount of competence to other dishes. On top of that, you're ironically not that much of a sweet tooth - having to taste test your own creations have sort of ruined the enjoyment of sugar-laden food for you.





"Ah, that's interesting. I'm sure your teammates will enjoy your cooking as well then." Ran smiles softly and closes his eyes. You're almost paranoid that the Bat Faunus is judging you but you realize that light is emanating from the window behind you. You squint as you press your face against the glass. The clouds that once cloaked the airship have parted now and you catch sight of your new home. Even though you're aware of the island's relatively small size you still can't help but be awed by the sight of the seaborne metropolis. There's the brilliant contrast of stony grey buildings to the elite residential quarter. Arcadia's perimeter is surrounded by a circular bridge that doubles as a massive wall against the Grimm that lurk within the depths of the sea. When you turn your gaze towards the utterly massive relay tower situated in the middle of the city you catch glimpses of the silhouettes of other airships. You wish you had a camera because this is one view you'd like to save forever...


"Wait, did you say teammates Ran?"


"Oh, yes. I believe we should be heading to the initiation site no-"


"I...Initiation?"


"Well, I believe it's customary for Huntsmen Academies Niles. I wouldn't be alarmed though - it should be relatively light. I believe that their intentions are to simply to test the skills we learned at Primary Combat School. It also seems that they determine our teams with this rite of passage."


You blink. And then you stare around at some of the other occupants of the airship - a violet-haired boy wearing a mask, a confident girl with large rabbit ears atop her head. Compared to your own plain, appearance the individuals assembled here all stand out far too much. Your head snaps back to the window as the beautiful view of Arcadia gets farther away from you. With equal amounts of confusion and fear, you press your hands on the glass. You immediately begin to scream internally as you watch the island disappear into the distance with a thousand yard stare.


"...Is everything alright Niles? You look as pale as a ghost."


Slowly, you turn back towards the concerned boy. You can practically hear the creaking of your own joints as your face contorts into an uneasy smile.


"Ran. What program are you enrolled in here?"


"The Huntsman Program of course. Ah, is this one of your jokes Niles? Remember how they separated the lines for students? This airship was headed towards the Initiation Site."


"Ha. Haha. Right. You totally got me." You chuckle uneasily, like a man whose been caught red-handed. But wait! Maybe you simply got into the wrong line in your half-asleep daze.Your hands move to your pockets quicker than lightning and you retrieve that high-tech gizmo. It's a Scroll - a standard identification device issued by educational institutes. Aside from providing official identification it also boasts connectivity to the CCTS. You tap on the yellow diamond and expand it to its full size. You've handled one before at Primary Combat School, but after flunking out you were forced to return it. A few flicks from your finger bring you to the ID screen. And there it is, right fucking there under your name.







Your picture is displayed right there as well and you slowly start to reason with yourself. Even if you did enter the wrong line, they checked for identification before handing you the Scroll. The ID data should have also been pre-loaded onto the device. Silently, you close the device and stare directly at the seat in front of you. Ran looks as if he wants to open his mouth but ultimately decides against it. Try as you might, your dead eyes can't reflect anything but the abject fear of impending death in their reflective pools. You're not a Huntsman and you flat out know that you don't have the chops for it. And now, here you are, sitting on an airship headed towards god knows where. One word escapes your lips as a murmur that your animal-eared companion can't even pick up.


"...Fuck."




The rest of the airship ride was spent in silence - though Ran simply smiles and nods at your grim and serious demeanor. It doesn't look like he's actually caught on to your dilemma. It seems that your destination was an abandoned airport - likely on the mainland nearest to Arcadia. The dilapidated runway and the skeletal lattice of broken glass and cracked concrete serve as a constant reminder that no settlement is safe from the Grimm. To the other students, this is what they fight to prevent. You, however, can only focus on the impending death awaiting you. The assembled students are split into groups based on gender. You're basically on auto-pilot as the rest of the male students are led by a handsome man with hair as white as freshly driven snow to a hangar. 


Within the wide space are a row of conspicuous lockers - from what your guide tells the group these lockers are equipped with rockets. By using your Scrolls, you can call these rocket-propelled containers to your location for quick access to your gear. He also explains that your gear has already been sorted into the locker - though you're entirely sure that you haven't even packed anything remotely related to combat. At this very moment, you're more concerned with being that one dumbass who forgot to bring all of his stuff to class. You take a brief glance at some of the other students who have already begun retrieving their equipment from the lockers. A black-haired boy slowly draws out two thin razor-like swords from his locker. The silver weapons seem to have some sort of advanced mechanism in the twinned weapons' hilt. A bespectacled student with a stern expression and tanned skin seems to be tinkering with his prosthetic right arm. As you begin to punch in the code given on a slip by your guide, you see the masked boy hefting a lance considerably taller than himself and waiting by your white-haired guide. He must change quickly...


With a sigh, you open your locker and expect to find nothing. So of course, it turns out that your locker actually does have some vital equipment. You first pick up the padded jacket and the threadbare red muffler - you immediately recognize them as the protective clothing you wore during that disastrous first year at Primary Combat School. As you strip out of your uniform and into your old combat attire you root through the darkness of the metal vault and feel something familiar. It's heavier than you remember but you pull it out into the light with a slight trepidation. It's your old weapon, a revolve that you forged a few years earlier. It's name is etched into the barrel's smooth surface - Ocelot. Admittedly, you had no idea what an ocelot was but the word sounded cool enough to be a name. Two clicks on the hammer causes the handgun to quickly transform into a knife. 


Feeling somewhat nostalgic, you shift the Ocelot back into its revolver form and twirl it around a finger. You recall actually being great at handling your weapon like this - an inexperienced wielder would have likely shot someone trying to spin the handgun at high speeds like you are. A half-naked Ran stares at your impressive display and claps slightly as you slow the gun down and slip it into its holster on your side. You give a playful bow as the bat faunus slips on black clothing. You take note of the gauntlet attached to his right arm and three identical blade strapped onto his chest. He'd probably fit right in with a bunch of assassins out of some Mistral comic. Though, you notice something peculiar.


"Ran, you're not wearing your glasses?" 


"Ah, I'm trained to fight without eyesight. My own Semblance also helps compensate for that as well."


You recall going over Semblances in class. According to your textbook, a Semblance was a manifestation of someone's power as derived from their character. These abilities could manifest in a number of ways that almost seemed supernatural in nature. And honestly, you'd be forgiven for mistaking it for magic because of how outlandish some of these Semblances were. One of the reasons for your own ineptitude as a Huntsman was your own inability to actually awaken a Semlance within yourself - even when placed in direct danger that mysterious power never once made itself apparent in you. 


Once everyone is dressed and ready to go, the two groups are reunited on the precarious roof of the main terminal. You can't help but wince as you put on a conspicuously bulky backpack and get directed to stand on a black tile that faces away from the airship. On your left is Ran, who seems to be settling into a stance. Though his eyes are closed shut, he turns to you and gives you a reassuring smile. The person on the right platform is a petite looking girl with light blue chin-length hair. Her small frame is clad in combat fatigues that wouldn't look out of place on a soldier. An assault rifle is also strapped to the flak jacket covering her flat-board of a modest chest. You ten immediately freeze up when you realize that she's sizing you up as well - a playful smile appears on her face as you struggle to do anything but freeze up.


"Alright then, here's how this year's initiation is going to work. We pulled this one out of Beacon's playbook - you'll be propelled into the hostile Grimm and bandit infested wilderness. The first student you meet up with will be designated as your partner - the next pair you come across will be the other two members of your team. Afterwards, you'll have to retrieve one of these - empty artillery shells. These artifacts are date back all the way to the Great War - try not to get them dinged up. Once you've got your macguffin, all you need to do is make it back to the airship. I wouldn't recommend taking too long - things tend to get more dangerous when night falls."


The white-haired man speaks with a certain amount of cool and charisma - combined with his good looks he seems like he'd be able to achieve just about anything he put his mind to. You're certain that he's not the Headmaster of Arcadia - apparently he's just a teacher aide filling in for a Professor who refused to show up for the initiation. His surname started with an S... but you can't recall it right now. You silently hope that you land near Ran - it's almost sort of depressing but you wholeheartedly believe that you'll be safe with a blind man watching your back. You look down at the black tile once more... did he say propelle-?


A number of shouts echo through the air as the black tiles spring into action and launch the students into the air. You can feel the skin on your face being peeled back by the wind as you silently soar through the air like a missile - you're so terrified right now that you can't even scream like the others. You've already lost sight of the two students who were on the platforms next to you. It's possible that the force they used to launch freshmen was randomly distributed. And judging by your luck, you ended up on the launching pad with the most tension. The ground is a colorful blur and your hand grips tightly on the handle of the Ocelot. 


You recall another aspect of Huntsmen. They are naturally protected an enhanced by a force called an Aura. The textbook definition for an Aura called it a manifestation of one's soul. Though everyone has the potential to use their Aura, its strength is determined by a few factors such as training and innate skill. The only creatures unable to use Aura are the Grimm - apparently these monsters have no souls to speak of. In combat, an Aura will protect a combatant but will slowly degrade with each strike. It's when a Hunter's aura is depleted that they're at their most vulnerable. On a side note, Semblance's are considered to be projections of a person's Aura.


Of course, one of the major reasons you couldn't keep up with Primary Combat School's curriculum was your own unnaturally low Aura. Even with copious amounts of training it barely increased in the slightest. Without a strong Aura, you couldn't project it as a Semblance. And without a Semblance, you were shit out of luck on practicals. After failing your first exam, you came to realize a cruel truth about reality. Hard work didn't matter if you didn't have the talent for it. You recall your academic adviser meeting with you midway through the semester. She showed you a graph of your projected Aura growth over the span of a century. Even if you trained and regularly engaged in combat over those hundred years, your Aura value wouldn't even reach the average of a typical Huntsman. And while you wanted to argue with the facts, you ultimately knew that the data was accurate to a decimal. That's why you dropped out of that academy - that's why you spent the next few years studying in the confines of your room and avoiding going to that normal school as much as you could. You isolated yourself and focused on swiftly catching up on another track.


Yet, here you are, hurtling through the air like a javelin. The ground seems to be approaching you and you attempt to tug on the drawstring of the parachute pack. Nothing happens. You take a deep breath and pull on the emergency ripcord. Nothing happens. Out in the distance, you can hear gunfire and the cries of inhuman beasts. At least you won't get mauled to death by a Grimm at this rate. Slowly, you close your eyes and think back to your mother at home. Fairly soon, you'll hit the ground at high speeds and be mangled into a pulp by the impact. 


THUD.


Your body collides with a hard, wooden branch and you can hear something shatter. It isn't a bone, however. Your Scroll starts emitting a muffled alarm from your pocket as you fall to the ground below - more branches break your fall. When you finally land on the pack, the parachute shoots out and you groan. Soreness courses through your body but you're not dead. That alarm is annoying so you pull out your Scroll - it seems like it can detect your current Aura value. You've immediately hit zero on contact with that branch. While you're alive, this also means that an attack by a Grimm or some thug with a pocket knife is enough to seriously injure you. Lovely.


You undo the array of straps on the defective parachute pack and stretch out your admittedly tense body. You pull out the Ocelot and pop open the barrel. Six bullets filled to the brim with a red powder are loaded in. The material contained in each bullet is Dust - a strange material that serves as an ample energy source for much of Remnant's technology. Offensively, Dust can be used to unleash the power of the very elements upon your enemies. The color of Dust corresponds to its elemental affinity - in your case you've got six Fire Dust rounds loaded in. However, this isn't reassuring at all. A Hunter's Aura is used to trigger Dust and the power of these reactions is dependent on their Aura's strength. In your hands, these rounds can do little more than turn into a small flame rivaled by a convenience store lighter. You shake your head as you slam the chamber back in and spin it. Though you've fortunately landed somewhere away from the action, you decide that you need to keep moving if you don't want to turn into Grimm chow.


After about an hour of walking through the forest, the din of battle is little more than a whisper on the wind. You've also managed to avoid encountering Grimm - your own training with your mother has put you into a situation worse than this. Your Aura is still bottomed out at zero - from what you recall it only begins to regenerate while resting.As you continue your solitary trek through the wilderness, you can hear a soft growl from the dense forestry behind you. Along with some rustling. You decide to keep moving forward at a brisk pace - panic only puts the Grimm into a frenzy. Taking a deep breath, you find yourself at a crossroads. The trees and dense forestry seem to split the path in front of your into three. It seems like the presence behind you is getting closer - you listen carefully to try and discern what lies at the end of each path.






Choices


You've come across a split in the path - you must advance down one lest you be consumed by the Grimm behind you.

1. You can hear what seem to be the far-off roar of explosions blooming at the end of the left path. 
   
2. For some strange reason, this middle path is eerily silent. 
   
3. >On this path, you don't hear the howl of gunfire. Rather, it seems like you can hear a faint melody. 
   

The fear of death strikes your heart when you glance down the silent path and the sounds of explosions blooming on the other suddenly makes you doubt your own ability to avoid being caught up in the crossfire. That leaves you with the path leading towards a distant melody. Of course, the sudden thought that there might be some musically-inclined Grimm crosses your mind but you keep jogging down the path before breaking into a full-out sprint as you hear loud footfalls behind you. While you aren't particularly combat-inclined, you are fortunately good at running. Your mother firing full-auto at you with live ammunition during your training sessions might have instilled that instinct within you. The presence grows farther with each passing second as the trees ahead are parted by the light of a clearing. Almost there... Just a few more steps....


The world suddenly inverts as you take your next step. You can no longer feel the ground under you as your field of vision soon becomes a blur. You then realize that you've tripped on something - either your own foot or some jutting root. For a moment, you wonder just how dirt tastes. Then your mind shifts gears and you find yourself wondering what would happen if a loaf of bread was placed in a hydraulic press. It'd probably make a weird sound like "grrrrraaaaannnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhrshhhhhhhhppppppppppppppppaaaaaaaaaa". Wait, focus Niles. You're currently spiraling through the air like a sports ball. How do you ge-


You groan as your body rolls across the dirt floor. Thankfully, you've learned to keep your mouth shut so as not to dirty that palate of yours with the taste of nature. Your body continues to roll along the leaf covered floor and the feeling of grass tickling your face nearly makes you sneeze. Your momentum finally dies out when you collide with something solid. A brief glance at your side reveals a sandal-clad woman. The sandals are particularly odd looking - they've been carved out of some dark wood and look pretty archaic. Slowly, your gaze travels up the pale, shapely leg to a cloth sash fashioned around an elegant pink kimono. You flip onto your back to continue your eyes' journey. White petals adorn her formalwear in a tasteful pattern. Surprisingly, you manage to resist the urge to ogle her chest - you've already ruined your first impression and you'd be damned if she'd get the honor of adding lecherous onto the list of your many faults. Two red eyes lock onto you. Her wavy white hair frames her small face as she brings her covered right hand to her mouth in surprise.


"Huh? Niles?"


"Oh, uh, hey Squeaks."


You instantly remember her staring at you earlier on the airship. As you stand and brush off your outfit you take a look at the weapon she wields. Her right hand is clad in what seems to be a specialized leather glove; only three of her fingers are actually covered. Though, it's certainly not just for protection - you can see a diamond-shaped container on the glove that holds a mix of white and blue powder. You briefly recall your lessons in Dust - a combination of the blue Water Dust and the white Wind Dust produced Ice Dust. Color coding sure comes in handy, doesn't it? Her left arm is fully covered in the same leather armor that ends with the distinct layered shoulder pads of Mistral armor. There doesn't seem to be a dust container on the five-fingered glove holding her weapon, however. Speaking of that - you intially think that it's some sort of harp. When the shape becomes apparent however, you realize that it's an ornate and rather old looking bow - albeit a bow with at least 5 sets of strings. So some sort of bow-harp? She doesn't seem to have any sort of quiver on her person...


You're about to open your mouth when you realize what you called her when she aims that instrument of death right at you. You'd probably be more threatened if she had some sort of arrow nocked on any of those stings. Before you can even react, however, her right hand tugs on those strings with a certain grace. You can see the powdered dust being spread onto the weapon's vibrating strings and suddenly vanishing. There's a loud growl that instills the fear of death in you once more - but it's silenced as a soft melody hangs in the air. It's immediately followed by what sounds like something piercing flesh. You quickly turn on your heel and draw your pistol.


There, right in your face, is a goddamn Ursa. It's a bear-like Grimm whose hideous maw is frozen in a snarl. Though your gun is ready, you hesitate to pull the trigger - and rightfully so because it's already dead. The body is slowly fading away into that distinct black miasma that all Grimm corpses become. It seems that your would-be mauler was skewered by several large spears of ice. From what you can deduce, that squeaking girl can apparently fire on an enemy without hitting someone in-between. And thank god for that - you wince at the thought of a frigid death by oversized icicles.


"...Thanks for the save there - oh hang on. Doesn't this mean we're partners then? Oh, and sorry about calling you Squeaks. If you want, you can call me Klutz or something. "


"A-Ah! Y-Yes it does. My nayme i-is Ouka Moto. I-I don't think I'll take you up on your offer though..."


Her pale cheeks soon give way to a bashful shade of red as she fumbles her own self-introduction - it also seems from the slight scrunching of her face that she managed to bite her tongue. Aside from Ran in his full combat attire, you don't think you've seen anyone more blatantly Mistralian than her. She's definitely got that same overly formal and way too polite tone as him though. You extend an hand out towards her to solidify your new partnership with the Huntress. But this only elicits a surprised squeak from the young woman as she instinctively recoils with a blush. Was hand-holding seriously that lewd? Were all those gags about putting mosaics on sweaty, lovey-dovey hand contact actually not hyperbole. You draw your hand back to your hip but this only turns her face a deeper shade of crimson.


You can feel something welling up within you, though you're not too sure why. By the time Ouka's finally stopped looking at the ground and sort of towards your direction, the bear-like Grimm's corpses has already disappeared. Only the quickly melting ice projectiles remain in its place. For the next few minutes, the awkwardness between the two of you is culpable. You're just not sure how to handle someone who's this shy about everything - you briefly wonder if she was some sort of sheltered aristocrat or something. Thankfully, this awkward pause is cut short by the sound of footsteps as something else enters the clearing a good distance away from where you had emerged.


"Ara? Another pair? How lovely! That makes us a Team then~."


"..."


Two newcomers enter the open space - your eyes are immediately drawn to the rabbit ears atop the tall-white haired Huntress's head. Looks like you've managed to meet a Rabbit Faunus today. Or... didn't you see her earlier today too? Her skin was lightly tanned and her blonde hair seemed to extend all the way down to her ankles. She was also as tall as you - taller if you counted those ears of hers too. On her left arm was a metal buckler and a sheathe hung on her belt. Her attire consisted of an ornate black coat with a gold trim and some thin plate armor on her arms and chest. You couldn't help but feel threatened by her very existence - for some reason you were reminded briefly of your own mother. 


Her partner's shorter stature definitely stood out in contrast to her height - you recall seeing him on airship as well. The young man had dark purple hair and a mask that resembled the slitted visor of a knight's helmet. Out of the three of you, he was wearing them most protective gear. The armor was clearly designed to resemble the sort of armor a gallant knight would wear into battle but at the same time it also conveyed its own modernity. If you had to hazard a guess, it was likely something from Atlas - that militaristic kingdom seemed to have a sort of aesthetic with their equipment. You couldn't see the young man's eyes underneath that mask but you could feel the burn of his judgmental gaze as you scratched your cheek. He's wielding an enormous lance taller than him - it also looks like a sort of revolve chamber's been worked into the base of the weapon. The tip looks to be separate from the rest of the lance.  Ouka tugs at your sleeve and almost seems to be hiding behind your back. You figure you might as well ake the initiative.


"Yeah, I guess so. I'm Niles Xenos and she's Ouka Moto. We literally just met about a minute ago but here we are. And you two?"


"Xenos... that sounds familiar. I'm Hazel Greyguard, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."


"...Marche." 


Well, at least one of them seems to be friendly. At least things seem to be looking up for you. Within the span of five minutes you've already managed to form a Team. There's safety in numbers and it seems like all that you need to do is find an artillery shell and make your way back to the airport. All in all, it doesn't seem too bad if you've got three other strangers watching your back. Still there's something familiar about Hazel - its a strange sort of recognition in that you're absolutely sure that you've never once met her face to face. You decide to push that to the back of your mind as you begin to speak.


"Well, I guess the only thing left to do now is find tha-"


"Ara, you mean this right? I landed near a Deathstalker's nest - the shell was somehow lodged in its stinger. I suppose that means we can head back now." She flashes a million-volt smile as she triumphantly holds up the worn chunk metal in one hand. You tilt your head - Deathstalkers are large Grimm - from what you know, once those scorpion-like Grimm are considered dangerous rookie killers. Even in a team of four, a Deathstalker still poses an enormous threat with its deadly stinger tail and scythe-like claws. Marche scratches his head as he speaks up.


"...Unfortunately, I met up with Greyguard after the deed was done."


You gulp - it looks like she really did kill one of those monsters on her own. As she stows away the shell behind her back, a flash of recognition hits you like a bolt from the blue. You remember seeing her on a box of Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes! Normally, there's no way that a Faunus could make it onto the cover of a breakfast food like that. But the cereal's normal mascot was a rabbit - combined with how the news practically hailed her as a promising and upcoming Huntress, she managed to break racial barriers through a combination of marketability and sheer skill. You feel a lot safer now that you've regurgitated all this information about her.


Marche is a complete mystery - you're not even sure what the deal is with a mask that only covers his eyes like that. You briefly wonder if he's got some mystical mark on his irises or strangely-colored eyes connected to an ancient legacy of warriors or something. In the end, you conclude that he's probably a chuuni or something. There's something bothering you about his voice - it almost seems kind of forced. Like, he's brought it down an octave lower to sound tougher. He probably needs to in order to compensate for that lack of height. 


"I-It'sreallygoodtomeetallofyou! I'minyourcare!"


Oh, and it seems like Ouka's finally mustered up the courage to take a step out from the behind you, bow her head, and spit out all those words in a steady stream of continuous fire. While Marche seems indifferent to your partner's awkward outburst, Hazel merely smiles and approaches her. She pats her white-haired head gently. Surprisingly, the head pat manages to ease some of her tension and Ouka looks back at the Faunus with a small smile. Honestly, you're not too sure the same approach would work if you tried that. You'd probably end up short-circuiting her. 


"You don't need to worry dear, we're all in this together now. Ara, Niles, has your Aura been depleted?" 


"W-Well, yeah. I got nicked pretty bad by a Grimm while I was searching for a partner..." You flinch, making up a lie to cover up the fact that you managed to cripple your own chances of survival before your feet even hit the ground. Thank god that none of these people were there to see your glorious landing. You're a little surprised that she could even tell that just by looking at you. You briefly wonder if that's a sign of the great skill gap between the two of you.


"Hmm, in that case, why don't Marche and I take point then. Miss Moto seems to be a long-ranged fighter judging by that weapon so she can take the rear - it's best to keep you in the middle since you're vulnerable Niles."


Ah, how thoughtful. And convenient for you. You can probably handle landing a few potshots or two but getting focused by Grimm would probably overwhelm you quickly. With the two armored Huntsmen as your shield and Ouka's musical archery backing them up you're certain that you can get through this with minimal effort. Yet, at the same time you're silently frustrated - even if you wanted to, you'd likely be holding the rest of the Team back with your own ineptitude. It's bad enough that you're already been taken out of the fight before it even started but you've really started to feel terrible about being a burden on these people. Regardless, you nod silently. Marche nods once as well as Ouka falls into position with her bow drawn. She looks determined, though your gaze forces a rosy blush on her face. You resist the urge to sigh as your unnamed team plunges back into the woodlands.


Though you've all got your weapons drawn, Hazel with her buckler and estoc, Marche with his heavy lance, you with the Ocelot, and Ouka with her bow-harp, the start of the trek back is surprisingly quiet. It's when Hazel lowers her guard that the rest of you follow in suit. With those ears of hers it's likely that she's also got enhanced hearing. You briefly wonder if humanity feared the Faunus because they were envious of their advantages. In your Primary Combat School, you never really spoke to the handful of Faunus students who were enrolled there. It was a shame, but you never had a good reason to talk to anyone really. It's not like they had Teams for that level of education so you weren't really forced to interact with your peers unless you really wanted to.


You've already decided that you'll take up this erroneous enrollment into the Hunstmen program to the school officials once this Initiation is over. While it'll probably feel bad to suddenly lose a teammate like that, it's not like you were really going to contribute anyways. You couldn't even if you tried. But, despite the futility of it all, you still find yourself wanting to talk with anyone one of these temporary allies. Maybe it's because you don't want the oppressive silence of your journey back to continue. Or maybe it's because you're so hollow and minor that you simply just want to converse with these main character-like existences to hopefully fill yourself in. Regardless of the reasoning, you decide to act.




Choices


You decide to strike up a short conversation with one of your temporary teammates.

1. >Chat it up with Marche. ["What's with you?"]
   
2. Ask Hazel about her Pumpkin Pete's endorsement.
   
3. Talk with your partner, Ouka. [WRITE-IN]
   

Well, Ouka's your partner so you figure that you'll have plenty of chances to chat her up. As for Hazel, you get this weird sort of death flag-y feeling from her - like she'd be the first major character death the denotes a shift in the story's overall theme and atmosphere. God, you're a fucking nerd for books but you're also a better patisserie. Regardless, you've set your mind up on talking with the other guy on the team - Marche! What sort of secrets does that mask hide? Is it some scar related to their tragic past? Or do their eyes contain some sort of magical power that would make even less sense in a setting primarily dominated by Mistrali assassins? As the trek continues, you subtly move closer to Marche.


"Hey."


"..."


"Marche right?"


A nod.


"What is it?"


"What's with you?"


"...Mm?"


"You know, the mask."


"Wouldn't you like to know..."


"Come on, with a mask like that you've gotta be used to the questions. I mean, what could you possibly hiding with a mask that only covers your eyes like that - is it related to your Semblance or something? Or do you like playing up that mysterious pretty boy image and hope that the mask attracts ladies your way?"


"..."


"A-Actually Marche, it is sort of distracting." Your white-haired partner jumps into the conversation/interrogation as well.


"Tch. Fine."


"Huh? That was actually easier tha-"


He pulls off his mask. There's an identical mask underneath. You're in-between mad at Marche for actually having the gall to pull a dumb gag like that on your and stupefied that you actually expected a big reveal this early into the semester. To his credit though, Marche remains completely stoic as he places the first mask back on over the second mask. Ouka's clutching her stomach and struggling not to laugh - she nearly trips over a pebble but you catch her mid-fall and help her back up. Hazel stifles a giggle and looks back to you. In any case, the trek continues without a hitch - from the constant sounds of battle in the background you figure that the other newly formed teams are already making their way back and likely attracting more of those beasts through their own panic. None of that is present in your to-be-named team, of course.


As the skies turn orange Hazel brings an arm out in front of Marche and halts the front-line. You follow their lead and crouch down as Hazel leads the group behind a sturdy tree. It doesn't take long for you to realize why everyone's on high alert though - a quick peek out from your vantage point allows you to catch a glimpse at an enormous Grimm's armored back jutting out above the treeline. Instantly, you recall its name: the elephant-like Goliath. With its heavy tusks and enormous girth, the Grimm compensates for its lack of speed with enormous strength and devastating blows. Marches pulls you back when you attempt to gaze out any further. The group arranges itself in a circle as Hazel closes her eyes.

















"...It's not just the Goliath - I can hear some more footsteps. Ara, it might be roaming around with faster Grimm."


"We've managed to make it this far without running into Grimm. How about we try and sneak past it?"


"...We could try. I'd rather exterminate it - we're still good on Dust."


"...Y-Yeah, I think t-that we should take it out..."


"...Alright then. A daring ambush~.  Marche, once I give the signal you'll open fire. Ouka, keep a distance and take out the other Grimm. Niles, you and I will take on the Goliath. We'll take up positions in the trees - once the Goliath is down we can regroup and take on the rest of its pack."


"Understood."


"Y-Yes!"


"...Right." Ha. Your hand moves to your holstered weapon as you immediately regret all your decisions up until this point. Hell, you were even beginning to enjoy their company. But it looks like this is one fight you won't be available to avoid. You briefly consider running away - but the determined looks on the rest of your teammate's faces are enough to make you reconsider. As much as you value self-preservation and not getting smashed to bits under a Goliath's foot, you also hate betraying someone else's trust. For a moment, your mother's face flashes in your mind - you remember the hidden disappointment in her face when you returned home after dropping out. You grit your teeth as Hazel leads the group forward.




You've put on a brave face but only you know just how completely screwed you are at this very moment. You're currently hidden in some trees and trying not to remember your own less-than-graceful landing. Hazel's taken up a vantage point across from yours while Marche and Ouka have their weapons ready behind a bush. The team has set up around what seems to be a well-treaded road - and the slight shaking of the earth is confirms that the Goliath is slowly making its way towards you. From high above, you can see Marche's lance shifting forms - it seems like it's some sort of heavy ordnance. The tip has also extended outwards - likely some sort of rocket launcher. Ouka's harp/bow is at the ready and her glove is loaded up with Ice Dust. Oddly enough, it seems that Hazel's weapon doesn't have some secondary function. There are still slots for Dust, but it really just seems to be an estoc and buckler combo. You briefly wonder if her status as a Faunus means that she can't afford more modern weaponry but a sharp whistle from Marche forces you to turn your head towards the slowly approaching pack of Grimm.


And as Hazel predicted, the Goliath is flanked on both sides by four Beowolves - werewolf-like Grimm that seem to spring up everywhere. Though they look quite ferocious, Beowolves tend to be all bark and no bite. At least, to trained Huntsmen students like the rest of your teammates. You're not too sure if you'd last that long against one - especially in your Aura-less state. Marche supports his weapon with his shoulder and aims carefully for the Goliath's legs. Hazel's blade wavers in the air as she prepares to give the signal - upon Dust ignition the team will spring into action. You idly check the chamber of the Ocelot one last time before you cock the hammer back and ready yourself for hell.








Combat Phase


The ambush begins in earnest when Marche fires the first shot - Hazel's strategy leaves you in a flexible role. While the others are certain in their success, you just want to survive this Initiation and get the hell back to Arcadia. Your eyes narrow as they fall upon the thick hide of the Goliath as the Beowolves circle its feet. As your grip tightens on the barrel, you make up your mind and decide on a plan of attack.

1. >You decide to leap onto the Goliath with the Ocelot configured into knife form. With Hazel doing the same, the Goliath should fall easily. [CRITICAL SUCCESS] (DC: 18)
   
2. You're no Huntsman, but you're still confident in your own aim. When Hazel leaps onto the Goliath's back, you'll support her from afar with your revolver Ocelot. [ROLL] (DC: 16)
   

 



The attack begins when Marche fires the explosive tip of his lance at the Goliath's face. The glowing red tip's supply of Fire Dust is activated by the masked man's Aura and a tremendous explosion engulfs the Goliath's face as you cover your face with an arm. Several hairline cracks form along the contours of the creature's mask as it stops. You hear a faint melody as nearly invisible projectiles - crystalline dust? - neatly slice through the air. The four Beowolves scatter as several of them swerve out of the way to avoid Ouka's sonic arrows - it looks strumming her harp/bow thing allows her to shoot the dust loaded in her glove... though you're still not quite sure how that process works. The pair stand their ground as Hazel signals to you.


Surprisingly, you manage not completely flub it up. Hell, you actually manage to look pretty damn competent when you decide to leap onto the Goliath's back. Even better - you've managed not to impale yourself on the monster's back spikes. As you flew through the air, you pressed down on the trigger of your knife - though the heat hadn't dyed the metal a bright red, it was more than enough for the task at hand. The heated blade slid into the Goliath's thick hide with a surprising lack of resistance - a combination of your own body weight and the Fire Dust saw to that. Your death grip on the knife and your use of the bone spikes as footholds allow you to stay on the Goliath as it senses danger and begins to buck dangerously. The Beowolves avoid being crushed under the Goliath's weight as the rabbit faunus leaps from the trees.


Her form as she soars is almost like a work of art - though you're no expert on combat, something about the bunny eared Huntress's body just screams lethal. Her antique weapon flashes in the air like a beast's fang and her aim is true - the estoc's blade pierces through one of the Goliath's beady red eyes as it thrashes about. You almost lose your footing but manage to hold on to dear life. You glance to the right side of the beast's head as the wound from the Ocelot widens slightly - black miasma begins to pour out of the wound like fog. Hazel carefully grabs onto her sword with both hands and places both feet on the beast's mask. There's a sharp crack that splits the air open - she's dislodged her blade with her leg strength and has left a sizable crack in the beast's covered face. With her momentum, she twists her body and guides her blade into a Beowolf's shoulder on her way down. 


 

The Goliath nearly tramples one of its pack members as you firmly hold onto the Goliath. You ignore the noise in the background as you muster up all of your strength to rip the knife from the Goliath's wound - you've sunk all 8 inches of the blade into the beast but the pain was likely worse than the damage you've actually inflicted. You lick your lips as you inhale the Grimm's flowing essence and quickly transform the Ocelot back into its revolver form with a quick twirl. Cocking the hammer back, you slam the barrel of the gun through the dark cloud and dig into the gash. Tunnel vision settles in as you lick your lips - if you weren't so focused on your task you might have said a pretty corny one liner or two. The gun's chamber spins rapidly as you sink the remaining 5 rounds into the rampaging creature's insides. Though your own Aura barely draws out the full power of the Fire Dust loaded within each bullet, the gun's destructive force allows them to tear through the Grimm's insides with easy. A gust of wind passes your face the Goliath bellows out a final death knell - the strength in its tree trunk legs ceases.


You narrowly avoid getting crushed by the Goliath's body as you leap - memories of combat rolling lessons come in handy as you safely land a short distance away from the Goliath's corpse. It's fallen on its side and a dense cloud of miasma have begun to fill the thicket... it then occurs to you that in the Goliath's frantic thrashing and your own savage attack that you've managed to become separated from the rest of your teammates. Strangely, you're not the least bit worried about that though. You wipe your mouth with a sleeve as you approach the Grimm's rapidly fading mass. You've been drooling - it seems that all that fighting's worked up an appetite. An strange hunter overwhelms you and a strange sensation assaults your body - it hurts for a moment but you don't stop moving forward. Step. Step. step.


its like a meal's been laid bare right before you. your body begins to unravel little by little with each step. when was the last time you've eaten? you can't even remember. your mouth opens wide as the miasma floods into your gaping maw - it's delicious. you can feel yourself becoming whole as you take the beast's essence into you. you lunge forward and your claws sink deeply into the meat. you bite into the dead beast's flesh and tear off chunks of tender meat that slowly fade away into miasma within your grasp. its so good when was the last time you did this? it doesn't matter - you're so damn hungry. each bite makes you more whol-



"N-Niles? A-Are you alright? I-I was calling your name earlier but you were k-kind of bu-" A certain white-haired girl has made her way over to you - and you slowly emerge from the cloud. Just your appearance is enough to derail her train of thought. What was her name? You don't remember - all of them look the same anyways. She falls backwards when she sees your blank, black visage. fear. that ambrosia overwhelms you as you take a step forward with your leg. you almost fall over. but you put one foot in front of the other. step. step. step. your head snaps from one side to another - looks like the other two aren't here. her eyes widen as you approach her and the panic is almost culpable.














she cant scream. you can see yourself reflected in those red eyes of hers. your body naturally twists and contorts as it struggles to stay together. you need to time to digest your meal but your body is already adapting. strength seeps into your joints as you bulk up. the girl's arms shake but she can't move - she won't move because its you. but you dont care. your going to slaughter her right here and now. she drops her weapon when you stare her down. is she pleading with you? why is she staring like she expects the inevitable not to happen?


"Y-You're Niles aren't you? I-It's still you is-" her quivering voice stops when you lunge for the kill. your claws ready to tear through that pale neck of hers. it's not that you detest humans - its just your nature.