@NaraK@HereComesTheSnow

Shuai Taidan

"Mmm-hmm."

Taidan blew upwards at his fringe, his single hair antenna twitching in thought.

"Don't really think so."

@Silvan Haven@Abillioncats@Slime

Gratia Mindaro - Civil War

Like her Faunus teammate, Gratia Mindaro had chosen to help herself to the confectionery that their supervisor had so generously provided to them. Unlike the other girl, however, she wasn't some slovenly animal who spoke with their mouth full, instead preferring to focus entirely on the free food than respond. If the cat's father was willing to offer, then she would a fucking idiot to refuse. That was why the basket was quickly emptied, every trace of sweets inhaled with lightning speed.

Yet when she spoke, there was absolutely no sign that she had ever been eating. Her expression was cool as usual, having changed not a single iota. "Ask Haven for help? That would be as fucking good as singing 'Veillons au salut de l'empire' again. None of those independently-minded towns would ever dare open their arses for an insertion from a pillar of l'Ancien Régime."

The Kingdom's authority was a fluid entity, and had been so even before the Great War severely crippled its hegemony over the polities outside of Mistral proper. Gratia could probably sketch a path between the increasing decentralisation and weakening of the state to the devastation of the Mistralese Civil War, but she had no interest in fucking around with historiography for a dying institution. She held no love for the ghoulish hedonists that made up the aristocracy of her city-state. They were nothing more than parasites in gaudy human clothing, merely rotting bags of lust and gluttony that sought to drain the citizenry dry for the sake of their useless, disgusting whims.

She despised them.

The ever-benevolent heroes of the land of harsh winds was their claim. It was almost laughable, if it wasn't so disgusting. What bullshit. Even the prats in the Praetorians were in some way capable of exerting their authority; Tzimiskes' irksome brethren wouldn't have been able to tell the fucking difference between their impotent little balls and the many tumours that dotted their flabby wastes of flesh.

How utterly surprising that Mistralese power was eroding. Even in their own orbit. Where were the Vigiles in her hometown? Where were the glorious tendrils of imperial authority? When would they give her family their money back? Hah, the cancerous scum promised their nation so much, yet all the citizenry could see were criminal insects.

On the bright side, it promised foreign investment! Setting up an international crime ring was incredibly easy to do in Mistral.

Laughable.

She would rather their eyesockets crushed and powdered into the same drugs they loved to peddle.

But that was irrelevant.

In the end, Gideon Blue's domain had sought to isolate itself from the Capital. That was one obvious reason for why it would rather ask for assistance from a institution an entire ocean away than seek out Haven's complement of Hunters. How ironic that his request had instead landed in the hands of a Havenite transfer team.

Just once, she would allow herself to be like the unwashed lesser beings in Mistral.

When the purse-strings were opened so widely, they would be fucking retarded not to exploit him for as much as he was worth.

"But it's fortunate he did find some local Hunters," a tinge of sarcasm dripping into her monotone voice as she continued. "It will be easier for us to identify what fuckery they're up to and how to permanently resolve it."

@Tominas@Driving Park@NaraK@Kaithas

---

"AHAHA!" Orrin clapped a hand down hard on Iona's shoulder, his laughter obnoxiously loud. "Yes! We will be like ninjas!" He stepped back and took a moment to survey his team. All of them looked competent, even the newcomer he hadn't yet met. Confidence swelled in his chest. In his mind, success was already a guarantee, unquestionable. He readjusted the massive shield on his back, and stood up a little straighter.

He listened as Blaine explained why he would not be a good candidate to hold the drives. Orrin's hand shot up, almost involuntarily.

"Ooh! Iona! Pick me!" He struck his chest with a closed fist. "I know how to use computers!"

@Crimmy@Slime@Silvan Haven


The basket of goodies was completely empty. Not that this surprised Andrew, he knew how much budding huntsmen and huntresses could eat. Andrew focused on piloting as the kids talked and asked their questions.

"I couldn't tell you what the Mayor's reasons are for sure. But Gratia is probably right on the money. Gallia has always been fairly self-reliant, I imagine the fact that they had to ask for help at all probably bugs Gideon more than he'll admit."

Andrew waited a moment before continuing, Beryl's questions weren't something he wanted to answer carelessly. Giving these students the wrong idea of the situation could be disastrous after all.

"There's been unrest for sometime, it wasn't until this rebel group started organizing that things became violent as they are now. They've been stirring up the majority of the trouble. They don't like how Gideon runs things and they want a change in leadership, apparently by force."

The airship adjusted course a bit. "As for the Mayor himself, well I can't say we see eye to eye on uh...most things, he runs a very tight ship, very no nonsense kind of guy. I haven't seen any evidence of him doing anything unethical though, and as long as that remains the case we will assist him."

Diamond – Incompatible opinions

“Trust? That went out the window fourteen years ago.” Diamond said, wanting to go with a snarky snort, but in the end, she sounded beaten and sour about it. “I don’t expect any and give little, never implicitly anyway. If I did, I’d have ended up dead or on a whorehouse or something like that a long time ago.”

Then she looked up in the teacher’s eyes. “Trust? Among hunters? Few days ago, I saw a huntress turned grimm worshipper gut one of the number of people I can count on the fingers of one crippled hand that I actually care about, and could, perhaps, after some time working together, ‘trust’. If someone who trained to protect people from the Grimm and was allowed to pass can fall into.. into… wanting to be one with them?! Then who can you trust?” She complained, frustrated and still a bit distressed by the memory. On one hand they are trying to feed her this teamwork, gettogether propaganda, on the other they sent her into 100% situations thus far where she got stabbed in the back. Bullshit detected!

“Rewind again, a week ago, we were set up by a racist maniac and almost buried all evidence of his atrocities, believing he was sending us to relieve the area of grimm. From what I’ve seen this far, this job requires you to look over your shoulder, read between the lines, observe every detail and question everything than working for the mob.”

She smiled inside when it came to detention. Free classes. As if she ever left for anything but a drink, something she could do without. Girl, you have no life! Perhaps no smuggling drinks into the dorm for a while. “I’ll be there. And you’re welcome to pick my head any day, but first I’ll want to know whom you’re allowed to tell how much of what I tell you.” She said, not wanting to go into any details before she knew the shrink won’t tell on her. Better get kicked out and take a chance with the dirty money than jailed, and the rest of the faculty need to be none the wiser.

@Crimmy

---

The road looked far from lonely. In fact, it would've been more assuring if it looked lonely and untouched.

While it was nothing on a dramatic scale, the mere length of how far this linear path went on noted that these Grimm had some kind of intention aside from trying to hunt something. Nobody in particular went missing in this forest, so it hadn't been because of a Huntsman's presence that caused the collateral damage.



As everybody walked, Walter occasionally took out what appeared to be a compass. It seemed to be broken at a first glance, though...

Nevertheless, it either seemed that he knew how it worked, or he just took it out by habit. Both the former and latter seemed equally likely, however, as the man clearly wasn't the stoic and serious type of person.

It's rather quiet. Walter thought, somewhat let down by the lack of action despite some of the more open areas of the forest.

Heh, heh. But I'll admit, this is more enticing than paperwork! Walter's eyes gleamed mischievously, grinning with his back turned to the students. I thank you for your recognition of where my abilities shine, Peter! An aging man like me often has to sharpen his fangs. I owe you a beer- or a Grimm for you to behead!

Somewhere in Beacon, Peter felt like someone was complimenting him, and that someone owed him a beer.

Walter's thoughts trailed off as he opened his compass again. Almost forgetting that the students were behind him, Walter was just about to glance at them with the intention of talking to not bore himself to death when the compass suddenly froze.

And so did he.

Raising a hand, he motioned for the students to stop.

At the moment, they were in the middle of passing by a rather open area in the forest, with two paths diverging in front of him. Here, the open skies were clearly visible, as if a hole had been made in the middle of the forest. But that didn't seem to be what Walter was concerned about.

His eyes glanced down, finding a single black feather.

And his eyes gleamed, a certain sharpness appearing in them as he remained still.

Hm.

So that's how they were going to roll.

Taking out what appeared to be a rather small telescope, Walter reached for his coat as the bottom of the telescope opened. He then smashed what appeared to be a rifle into the telescope. Two hinges that had been sticking out of the telescope's sides extended and latched themselves into the rifle.

Raising the rifle, it took less than a second for Walter to pull the trigger in the direction of where his compass had pointed to. Almost immediately after he shot, a loud screech came from one of the trees, followed by a lifeless thud.

The ground began to shake, and the sound of trees being torn apart led to a clear indication of just what was coming.

"EVERYONE! Stick together and get ready-" Walter shouted as he cocked the rifle. "We've got Grimm coming through! Harpies, Bulls- and some reinforcements!"

At once, every direction of the open area had Grimm bursting out, all of them facing the group of five. About four Sitting Bulls burst out both in front and behind the group, and about four Harpies appeared, gliding above the group. In addition to these Feind Grimm, Klein Class Grimm also appeared.

Twenty four Beowolves.

Well, twenty three, since Walter immediately shot one of them down while it was running mindlessly. The Beowolves immediately tensed up and put up their guard as they approached the group, while the Sitting Bulls continued to charge, this time towards the group.

Unsheathing his sabre with his rifle on the other hand, Walter shouted at Team KFSC, "No time to talk! Give 'em everything you got. Watch out for the bird brains!"

Two of the tough-skinned Sitting Bulls in particular charged towards Cian, while the other two Bulls charged towards Ferris, Krysanthe, and Sepia. Meanwhile, the Harpies glided around them, ready to avoid any predictable shots until they decided to attack. In the meantime, they positioned their flight so that if the Huntsmen attempted to attack them, it would become a heavy commitment that could go bad due to the restless Sitting Bulls. The Feind Class Grimm, as primitive as it seemed, were using each other.

And the Beowolves' numbers proved that hacking and slashing without thought could get the team under a heavy disadvantage. There were about eighteen of them charging towards the team from all directions, the rest heading to Walter. The Grimm were using quantity- but a team of Huntsmen also had quantity and quality too.

_{@Crimson Raven@Eklispe@SevenStormStyle@Suku}

"Hey, look, the cute fascist brought some carry-on," Iris Fouquet giggled. The mountaineer's long, tanned legs were crossed at the ankle and kicked playfully, cutting a pendulum's arc in front of her far enough to measure furniture. "Who wants to frisk him? Nobody? Dibs."

Viv's eyes trailed back to the approaching team, and the Mistralian captain sucked in her breath. Evangeline looked up and squealed.

"What the fuck?" Pressman asked incredulously.

"We're friends," Evan sang. "Viv, I'm gonna have another friend. What's the biggest gun you think he's got in there?"

"I'll find out."

Jericho Piper had approached with a duffel bag in each hand, flanked by his teammates. Thankfully, they seemed prone to wakefulness. Viv's eyes lingered for a second on the shorter boy to Jericho's right. He wasn't worthy of much appraisal, dressed in a perfectly mundane hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. They were perfect post-revolutionary clothes, which might have been what drew Pressman to him - either that or her cartoon perversions, anyway.

Maybe she shouldn't judge. She hated judging people. After all, Viv could tell the Atlesian was doing the exact same shit to her. His face was expressionless, as much of a copper death mask as it had been when he'd previously taunted her and her girls. Now his stoicism seemed almost smug. The vibe was only compounded when he leaned down to the shortest person on the team - a Faunus girl with majestic snowy wings - and muttered to her, turning his head so that his mouth was hidden by her ear. The girl's wide grin told her everything.

"Piper." Viv was determined to stay in control, standing up to draw his gaze. She was shorter than him only by an inch or two, and she felt more confident as she realized how close they were to standing on equal ground. "We're losing nighttime. Do you have enough munitions now? Were you planning on survivors?"

"You said heavy."

"This moron said heavy." Viv's boot flicked backwards slightly to kick the calf of the girl she'd set down on the crates they were using for makeshift seats. She continued speaking over the resultant whine. "As I recall, we needed to have a discussion as team capta--"

"Okay Viv," said Jericho Piper blankly. He had already lifted one duffel bag and tossed it beside Evangeline. "Your moron has a knight's instincts. I'll trade you for mine when we're deploying."

Behind the fascist, the Faunus and the shōnen shared a confused glance. It told Viv all she needed to know about the state of morons on their support team. She would need to reassure Evan of her own competence after a few hours of these fucking lackeys. Not that Pressman cared. She was frowning at the manlet like a new cuisine she was unsure of sampling. Given that the only males she'd ever touched were in dating simulators or frozen still in men's departments, that was probably an apt analogy.

Come to think of it, she was thankful for Evan's gayness. She was growing furious with half of her team leering at the pretty boy Atlesian.

...

But she couldn't at all abide the way her Evan was leering at that fascist's...equipment.

"I'll make that trade," Viv said. "Whatever happens to her on your watch, I'll revisit on yours tenfold."

Jericho's gaze drifted back to the gorgeous young Faunus on his left. With her wide cyan eyes, porcelain smile, and her wings, she may as well have been an angel.

"I'll make that trade," the knight echoed.

---

After the two grouchy bitches had formed their compact outside the airship, Veronique Pressman had assumed that the two teams would be forced to mingle, sitting together with their "operational partners" for the duration of the airship ride down to the port. Thankfully, she had figured incorrectly. The Atlesian prick had chosen to sit next to his partner with the wings, reluctantly sharing one of his earbuds a few minutes after takeoff when she asked what he was listening to.

That left Viv free to talk to Evan, who had kept the duffel bag her "operational partner" had proffered and was using it to prop up her head while Viv propped up her shorts-clad lower half. Veronique watched them with outright revulsion. She hadn't seen a gay combination that volatile since styrofoam and gasoline. Adding a bunch of Atlesian firearms in the mix to get jealous over was bound to lead to some particularly punitive hate sex in the dorm bathroom that night.

Fucking nauseating.

Iris, ever the flexible friendmaker, had sidled up to the silent fourth member of JBLS and started chatting her up. That left one person left for her to sit next to on their side of the rectangular cargo bay. So, steeling her courage and preparing to teach the charm school crash course from hell if she was recognized, she sat down next to the hoodie-clad Shiroyaman.

"Bonsoir," Pressman muttered darkly. Normally the dull roar of an airship's movement, and the rattling of its cargo inside a bay, would have masked her words, requiring her to speak up. Thankfully, Beacon's fleet ran a little smoother than that, so she could stick to her normal, quieter tone of voice.

@Crimmy@Slime@Abillioncats



A pale hand reached back into the basket as Beryl listened to the pilot's answers to the group's comments. She froze as the questing hand found nothing but crumbs, a bit of frantic patting the inside of the basket confirmed the lack of sugary goodness. As Andrew finished speaking the young faunus shot a death glare at the absolute hog who had managed to inhale at least half a dozen doughnuts and twice that many cookies in less than a minute.

Had she even tasted the divine gift that was sweet confectioneries as they vanished down the black hole that was Gratia's gullet? In fact she wasn't even sure the rest of the team had managed to snag any before they consumed by the human Hoover. That just wouldn't do. She'd have to make something for everyone on the team aside from Gratia when they got back.

A little bit of Beryl's disgruntlement slipped its way into her voice as she spoke up again. "It's going to be hard to tell who's friend and foe in a situation like that. Hopefully we don't end up needing to depose the mayor. That wouldn't look very good on the old resume." She turned to the newest member of the team, who as of yet, hadn't said much. "What do you think, Silver?"

At the risk of bringing up a certain painful memory, I would describe the walk you make towards an airship on the day of missions to be similar to having a live current running through your nerves. Fatigue and grogginess were distant concepts that lurched to the recesses of the mind. With the airship idling on the tarmac, the noise alone and slight yet growing disturbance of air would rouse anybody to full consciousness.

Adding the atmosphere of a rough unknown requiring "heavy" equipment and another team that was ready and waiting to go into what was definitely battle, and possibly war...

Well, that'd be overkill even for the me that was inevitably crashing and burning once this was all said and done.

As we drew upon the aircraft and the team that had made themselves at home on a few supply crates outside it, we were met with four very different gazes from four very different women.

The first that immediately stood out to me was the girl whose leg room would probably be large enough to encroach upon the seat opposite if she wasn't careful. If I had thought Beryl, Skye, or any of the women I knew who eclipsed me in height were tall, she was a scale beyond even them. She had healthily tanned skin, robust yet charming features, and her eyes were playful, blue, and focused squarely on our stoic leader.

The next was a similarly cheery and invested young woman with hair of dark blue or purple. It was hard to tell in the lighting, but what was easy was that she seemed even more ready to get along than her towering teammate. I could spot a particular excitement in those red eyes that were drawn not just to Jericho, but flitted between the two bags at his sides— maybe a gun nut. They did tell him to go "heavy".

Third was immediately familiar, and the posture and poise in her immediate greeting of our team was exactly the same as it was nearly a week's time before, when she'd drawn up to my and Bianca's ragged selves just post-healing process to hand off cruise tickets. She was an apathetic sort from what I remembered, similar to Jericho or maybe Gratia, but from her cold appraisal's indication she didn't recognize either of us from that excursion half as well as I had her. Fair enough. It was just an errand for her team, after all. I had someone else to thank. I remembered that much, but couldn't place the name, which elicited more of a grimace than any of her harsh tones towards Jericho could during her staredown with him. I had to jog my noggin and get that straightened out before this was over...

And then my eyes met with the last. The only one looking at me.

It must have made for such a horrible first impression, didn't it?

Her features were fine and delicate, and set into a pensive frown that I wasn't quite sure how to read, but felt like it suited her. It carried a vaguely dissatisfied air, the sharp lines in her cheeks and nose coalescing into the expression naturally. Her hair was long and red, ending in curls, and her bangs concealed one eye from view. But the eye I did see was definitely staring straight into mine. It was a sharp and searching ruby that seemed to expect something of me. Did this pretty girl know me? I racked my brain, but was sure I hadn't done anything to, or even met her before...

I usually remember the faces of the people I've met at this school. But no matter which way I looked at hers—

"Your moron has a knight's instincts. I'll trade you for mine when we're deploying."

"Hn?"

The spell was broken by Jericho's ever-level tone presenting an immediately pressing matter.

I looked over to Bianca as she turned her equally nonplussed pools of cyan towards me.

Was I the moron, or was she?

I'm a bit of a dunce a lot of times, and Jericho was well aware by now that I was a near-washout with grades that stood on the knife's edge. But to my credit, he did seem to believe I was at least kind of a reliable guy.

Whether I agreed didn't matter. All I could do was offer the angel beside me a quick shrug before we blinked and faced front again.

"I'll make that trade," the leader of team Vivacious frostily intoned. "Whatever happens to her on your watch, I'll revisit on yours tenfold."

Jericho's gaze drifted back to the gorgeous young Faunus on his left. With her wide cyan eyes, porcelain smile, and her wings, she may as well have been an angel.

"I'll make that trade," the leader of team Jumpercables echoed.

Oh. Cool, not me!

...

Sorry, Bianca.

---

As it stood, no matter how smoothly they flew, a combat airship was a combat airship, and combat airships have space on premium. It would have been conceited of me to expect a seat and elbow room with two teams aboard. That was fine, though. An inconvenience that minor was nothing I'd ever raise a ruckus about, and it didn't matter enough to mention in anything more than passing. I had experienced it enough through last week alone.

The only reason I even brought it up was because it resulted in a very specific seating arrangement.

A shock of red you'd have to be blind to miss appeared in my peripherals as I felt a light shift in the seat beside me, now carrying a passenger.

"Bonsoir." murmured the young woman from before, her voice low and dark. I was honestly a little surprised to have heard it in the first place. But I wasn't complaining either.

"こんばんは。" I replied evenly, returning the red-haired girl the favor of a greeting in one's native language. Luckily for me I knew enough Central Mistralian to avoid a goof on the associated timing— "Good evening". I tilted my head to look at her once again. She still appeared to simmer, but it might have no longer been directed towards me.

Huh. I thought it was just the lighting before, but there actually were streaks of black highlight in that wavy red curtain of hair.

"Not much of a morning person?" I ventured.

@Silvan Haven@Crimmy@Abillioncats

Silver Applegate - Airship - Civil War

Silver listened attentively to what both his teammates and Andrew said. The more he heard the more fishy this mission sounded. He was then addressed by Beryl. "I think something important's being omitted. The mission briefing didn't mention why the civil war started in the first place after all. You'd think that to be a very important piece of information." The mission briefing was, at the very least, simplistic, as if the civil unrest started suddenly.

Come to think of it, the briefing mentioned that Gideon is pretty rich. While he could've earned it through his work, it raised some red flags on Silver's mind. "It's risky, but maybe we should listen to the rebels' side of this story?"

Goofiness.

Dustiness.

Ridiculousness.

To be fucking around in the woods, where there were witch covens and ghosts and little goblins that ate white children...

She had thought this mission would be about killing another giant Grimm. Clearly Lauren had expected too much from her team, all of whom universally regarded seasoning as she regarded the occult, and all of whom seemed perfectly comfortable with this rank fuckery of the very first house, of the first and second cause. No doubt it seemed like a perfectly good idea to Ben, who had grown up in these woods while avoiding any instances of baby snatching or having sperm extracted for homunculi or any such shit. At least, as far as he'd told them. Sangue was a feral child, so she would probably fit in fine here too. But Amy and Lauren, both city girls, were going to be at a disadvantage as they yearned for anything but haunted-ass woods.

At least, Lauren yearned for anything but haunted-ass woods. Reflecting, she thought to herself that it was lucky she'd brought Hautdesert along on this mission - even though she had yet to debut it, walking barehanded with a pack slung over her shoulder.

I'll tear this whole fucking forest down, Cap be damned. Fuck an ent or a goblin or a Lorax.

Fuck, she'd need a whole weekend of unwinding after this. If she wasn't going to find some manner of wild threesome-centric detox in the dorm, maybe a call to her other main bitch would do the trick. She had options at Beacon.

Options like not being fucking possessed or ghouled upon.

What was she supposed to do, talk? Talking would alleviate her mild anxiety, but the ones who talked too much always bit it in the movies, too. Her blackness was already a stat handicap she'd had to survive with police and their brewery mission. When would her luck run out?

Oh, fuck this.

"So, Cap!" the right flank crowed, grinning amiably as she nudged him in his own right flank. "You were born in one of these trees, huh? Which part of the forest do they pluck the little white babies from? No wonder you never saw a black girl in a place like this. I'm surprised that people don't fuck squirrels out here."

Her eyes shifted from the treeline to the back of Ben's head.

"They...don't, right?"

The skies were bluer than his appearance. Though, the forests were nowhere close to looking like the skies. To a handful of people, the colors blue and green would often be correlated with position. Blue would be above, and green would be enveloped under it.

There was no land where the skies were underneath the forests.

Jan eyed the dark-haired woman somewhat through the many strands of his hair. He then glanced at red-haired Faunus, then at the woman with a metal arm.

Half of the team didn't seem to be wary of him. The other half, including the team's leader, seemed rather wary of him.

It wasn't... an unfamiliar feeling. Both feelings, rather.

Almost jumping when Ben called to him, Jan heard him word for word before nodding somewhat clumsily. His hair shadowed his eyes, though it did nothing to hide his stiff expression.

"Yes," he spoke, his voice rather light and boyish.

"Easy," Ben began again, flashing Jan an easy smile. He started walking, briskly but not at a hurry and only paused his comments just long enough to make sure everyone was keeping in formation. Satisfied they were, and that he had his thoughts in order, he picked the train of thought back up. "Nothing bad. I'm glad to have you with us. Last time we went on a mission we had Jumpercable watching our backs, and it's a little strange going without 'em."

"But I do need to establish some ground rules." His voice didn't change much, but there was an undercurrent of solidity. He wasn't just making conversation, he wasn't reprimanding or making a threat either. There was no posturing behind it. Just the assurance that his words would be heard, and complied with. "I've got the lead on this mission. You're our backup, and our observer. And I'm thankful for the extra set of hands. But we're trusting you with our lives, and you're trusting us with yours. I've got absolute faith in my girls. I think they've got that in me, too. What they've got to say, I'll listen to what you've got to say, too."

"But if I give an order, I need you to listen as well as they would. You're a part of my team while we're out here. That makes you my responsibility. If we're all gonna walk out of here, I need you to think of yourself as part of the team, too. Alright?"

The smile Ben had quickly wore off the stiff expression Jan took, though his words were what made him relax more. And Ben was right- they had to work together, and quite frankly, an observer not working together with a team and its leader was asking for more hassle than well-invested effort. Nobody probably wanted to waste their time out here in the wilderness, even if some were more accustomed to it than others.

Carefully nodding so he didn't seem rude, Jan repeated another "Yes," though it was noticeably less tense than before. He was still nervous, though he tried to set aside his emotions for now.

---

The team continued to make their way through the forest. It had become apparent that Grimm weren't going to appear any sooner. Whether that bode well for the team's gut feelings or not was entirely subjective.

Though there were moments for many travelers where Grimm had not appeared during travels too often, it was rare for such a case where they would not simply cross a single set area. Grimm moved all the time. They were an omnipotent presence, always there when people expect them the least. Their presence caused negativity, which nurtured more Grimm.

Everyone knew that much. But their lack of presence made the trip somewhat odd, especially for something as troublesome as the CCTS malfunctioning.

Jan held out a small device handed to him before the mission, his eyes glazing over his surroundings. The device in his hands looked like a Scroll, though it didn't belong to him- it belonged to the Atlesian personnel. His Scroll was a rather outdated model, and considering his small sum of money, he preferred not to bring it where it could fall apart even further. Just to make sure if they were in the right track, he took out a radio linked to the personnel far behind them.

Earlier, the radio had heavy interference going on, but it at least still worked a bit. Now it outright refused to work.

"We're getting close," Jan spoke firmly, though it ended up coming out nervously. His eyes looking for anything that could point towards the cause of the interference. But there was nothing. Nothing but the woods.

Walking further down, the faint shape of a large building could be seen. True to the reports, it had an Atlesian emblem on its side. Two metal doors were in the front of the building, dirt and rust having aged it. This building had been here for a very long time- almost as if it had been abandoned for more than just a couple of years. It didn't look like that large of a building, however, even if they were still a good distance away from it.

Something was off, however. There was an... odd feeling that people with sensitive Auras like his felt. He wasn't sure if the others could feel it, but it felt like...

Something's watching us?

Unsure of what to feel, he stuck close to BASL as they approached the building. Now that he looked at it again, it kinda looked creepy, sitting out in the middle of nowhere like this.

---

Sangue remained on her guard as Jan reported that they were getting close. By the time an old building sitting in the middle of nowhere showed up far away from them, however, she was more confused than anything.

There was a ticklish feeling she felt down her spine, yet she had no idea as to what was causing it. She glanced around, wondering if someone had poked her and she just happened to dose off, but she was perfectly fine.

She glanced at her team, making sure everyone was still together as she kept watch for their right. Her team's presence made her feel safer, though the situation felt no less odder than it had before.

_{@Plank Sinatra@Krayzikk@Kaithas}

Something felt wrong.

It was some prickling on the back of her neck, some perturbation in her Aura that Gift made her sensitive enough to detect. Something was very, very wrong here, wrong with the building that all of them were walking toward. Even more disturbing, in her opinion, were Jan's failed attempts to activate his comms, just... the first hallmark of something about to go badly in a horror movie.

And she was the group tramp, so that increased her likelihood of dying tremendously.

Fan-####ing-tastic.

She could take off, she supposed, and try to get a look at things from the air--but if whatever they were going after had some ranged capability, she'd be a sitting duck. Instead, she dialed Gift up, looking at the windows as they approached to see if she saw any movement or the like with her enhanced senses.

"Depends on how lonely they are, Lauren. Watch out for the pines. Monsters 'round here never had dark meat before."

Ben couldn't actually keep the grin off his face, but as long as he kept facing forward then Lauren couldn't see it. He clapped Jan lightly on the shoulder, satisfied that the other Hunter was on board. Not much too soon, either. The group was coming up on the clearing.

Out in the woods, you learned to trust your gut. Humanity survived against the Grimm, without the technology, equipment, or training that they all had now for generations. Thousands of years of survival instinct go into what people called their gut, and those instincts are right more than they're wrong. Especially in the woods. In the wilderness, where society has yet to encroach, if you feel like you're being watched... You probably are. You're not paranoid. You just don't have the words to describe why you feel what you're feeling.

The clearing made the hairs on Ben's neck stand on end.

The building looked old. Ben was no expert on Atlesian architecture, but... Atlas would've known about it, if it was recent. His team wouldn't be walking in blind. And the Grimm? A half hour hike through the woods, these woods, with no sign?

Something was very, very wrong.

He shrugged Joyous Guard off of his back in a fluid motion and slipped it onto his forearm. The mass, more than the absence of its weight, was a comfort. Everything he had, his resolve, he'd forged into that shield. It wouldn't waver, not against anything this place had. Not so long as it stood between him and his team.

"Well," He began, drawing out the word a little. With a practiced flick, he rotated the shield until it locked parallel to his arm. Perfect orientation to be a nice, weighty battering ram. "Amy, unless you've got something to report, I'm gonna break down that door. Quicker we find out what's up, quicker we go home. Everyone ready to rock?"

@Lazo@Awesomoman64@Guess Who@Abillioncats

"Excellent," said the inspector, and the poodle wagged its tail in agreement with its owner's declaration. "I look forward to seeing Vale's teachings in action."

There was little else to be said as the journey continued. All on board the Atlesian vessel knew their place and purpose, so few words were exchanged beyond what pertained directly to their business. Every once in a while, Thoúlē Aristeas would wander the bridge, her flats tapping quietly against the steel floor as she gave her canine companion a better view of the skies around them. She would also, from time to time, speak to the captain in private, but generally she was a neutral observer, for her role had yet to come.

However, the role of Team SVRT, after a long, long wait, had.

"We have a flock of Nevermores inbound," reported the man at the sensors. "Visuals confirm around sixty individuals. Your orders, captain?"

"Prepare the cannons," the captain said. "Sweep them all from our skies. Don't let a single one escape! And -"

She glanced over at Thoúlē, then at SVRT.

"Hunters," she continued. "You may take the elevator up onto the hull. We await your success."

Once the inspector had dismissed them, Sand had simply nodded and turned to the rest of the team, telling them to settle down for the flight. Seats had been reserved for them near the back-end of the bridge, out of the way of the flight crew, and she was quick to claim hers.

Time went by slowly, the only things to occupy her being idle daydreams, the rhythmic sound of Thoúlē’s feet against the floor of the airship during her occasional strolls throughout the bridge, and the occasional bout of conversation between her teammates. After a time listening to the droning murmur of the turbines, she had diverted most of her focus towards staying conscious.

Just as she resolved to match the inspector’s example and stretch her legs, an announcement from one of the crew members scattered the cobwebs from her mind.

"We have a flock of Nevermores inbound. Visuals confirm around sixty individuals. Your orders, captain?"

Sand listened to the Captain’s response, now wide awake, and was not surprised when the crew’s focus turned to them. It was time for them to play their part.

And time for me to put on my act, she added, feeling the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

“We’re on it.” She answered crisply, satisfied by the steadiness of her voice, before glancing at the others. “Go ahead to the elevator. I need to check on something, but I’ll be right with you.”

---

True to her word, no sooner had the door to the bridge slid close behind the three members of SVRT that it opened again to let Sand through. This time, however, she held an Atlesian service rifle in each hand.

“Leave it to Atlas to keep spare weaponry even in their research vessels,” she commented, pre-empting any odd looks, “now catch.” At that, she tossed one of the weapons at Violet.

Cradling the remaining rifle into a comfortable grip in her arms, Sand explained, “Robert and Trad may be able to resupply before we head out to inspect the facility, but arrows and blades are harder to come by than bullets. There’s really no reason to burn through our equipment before we even touch ground, so I thought we could borrow these.” She began walking, motioning them forward with a tilt of her head as she moved past them. “Elevator should be right ahead, come on.”

Expecting them to follow, she continued. “As long as they’re not too large, between us four and the ship’s cannons a murder of Nevermores this size should be your regular target practice. Just don’t let them get too close. That said, it’s going to be windy up there, so try to stay low and close to a handhold.” She glanced back, hoping to drive this home. “Falling off would be a problem, so stick close to me or Trad if there aren’t any. We can anchor ourselves down if we need to, isn’t that right?”

Finally reaching the elevator, she stepped inside. “Might be hard to hear each other up there, so last chance for questions. Anything on your minds? You know where the safety is on that thing, Violet?”

@Guess Who@Awesomoman64@Abillioncats@Crimmy

After being dismissed, Robert would join his teammates at the back of the bridge, as expected of him. He had no intention of sitting though, instead pacing up and down the aisle as he waited for something to happen. Whenever his legs began to get tired, he'd lean against the door to give them time to rest before returning to his anxious walking. These things never seemed to go well for him. Third time was the charm right? Sand would be taking command as well, that was sure to make things go much better by comparison.

As he was trying to get over his understandable often-disastrous-mission nerves, one of the technicians alerted everyone on board about the hostile Grimm inbound for their transport. He was so lost within his own head that the sudden announcement caused the young man to visibly jump at the sound, though he was at least able to recompose himself soon after. That Beacon training wasn't a complete waste.

"Whoa. Sixty's quite a bit," Robert thought aloud just as Sand was leaving them. "Wait, where are you-" he began to ask, just before she returned with two Atlesian rifles. "Oh. Yeah, those will probably help."

The young hunter-in-training would patiently listen to what Sand would have to say, nodding in agreement at her suggestions to stay close to those whose semblances would help them not fall to their deaths. "I'm ready to go. Trad, give us a cool one liner to get this party started. Maybe something about murders and crows," Robert finished, putting his teammate on the spot.

---

With Team HTTS all gathered in one place, it would take Captain Farraige some time to find them, but once he had they'd find it difficult to leave without being rude. There was little hope of escape. "Ah, ah've finally foun' yer. Couldn't 'ide from auld Captain Farraige. Not on 'is own ship at laest," he greeted them. Taidan in particular would be the target of a hard slap to his back, enough force behind the overly friendly gesture to throw him off balance if he didn't expect or dodge it.

"Dat reminds me back whaen oi wus yisser age. Me an' sum auld mates av mine 'ad decided ter skip class for de day an' git wasted on me da's fishin' boat..." he began. Pandora's box had been opened. Once the old captain had gotten started on one of his stories, there was nothing that could stop him. Try to interrupt him and he'd only speak over you. Walk away and he would take that as an invitation to follow. The team's fate would be sealed, the rest of their journey spent in boredom until the potential for a new story presented itself to him.

Time seemed to move at a snail's pace. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and the random sound of another aerial Grimm being shot down above seemed to be the only proof that they weren't stuck within some sort of time loop. Eventually though, a miracle would come with the crackle of the ship's PA system. "Hey captain, radar's picking up a small school of very big fish coming our way. And by big I mean Ursa-sized. And by coming our way I mean-" Splash! "They're on board now."

With no prior warning, a dozen and a half large, flippered Grimm had found themselves barreling along on the top deck. They were called Hrossvalr and they were similar in appearance to a walrus. So similar really that their aggressive nature towards humanity was really their only differing trait. That and that they were massive bullet sponges. At best these creatures would be an annoyance as long as none of them got inside, though that would appear to be their objective. Whether they were lumbering towards the nearest door or scratching at the deck beneath their fat bodies, every single one seemed awfully more fixated on something below than the humans already with them above.

@Crimmy@Slime@Silvan Haven


"Listening to both sides is exactly what we should do if we want to get to the bottom of this." Andrew said in agreement with the team's assessment. "But let's hold off any judgements of either side till we do that yeah?"

The rest of the flight was relatively silent, other than Andrew's occasional comments whenever he noticed something interesting. After some time they reached the continent of Mistral. A town came into view that matched Andrew's description of Gallia and its surrounding areas. As they flew over the town they all got an excellent look at the current state of Gallia.

It was divided, in the most literal sense. Cutting the town almost perfectly in two was a wartorn line that seperated the village east and west. It was clear that a major battle or battles had occurred at this line, many of the buildings and homes around the line were heavily damaged, on fire, or just outright destroyed.

"Gideon...what the hell are you doing? How did he let it get this bad?" Andrew muttered to himself in an agitated tone, the amount of disarray and destruction surprising even him. What on earth was happening in this town?

The airship began to descend as a rather large manor came into view, located on the eastern border of Gallia. Andrew landed the airship in the middle of it's garden, without much thought for said garden. Andrew got out of his seat and walked out of the airship as the bay doors opened, he gestured for the team to follow him.

They were greeted by several armed guards, pointing their weapons right at the group. "Halt! State your business here!" One of them said.

"It's me. Andrew Felicia. I'm here with the beacon team your wonderful mayor requested. Now where the hell is he? We need to talk right now."

The guards looked at each other before lowering their weapons. "Follow us..." They turned around and started heading inside the manor itself, leading the group down a hallway.

As they walked, Andrew suddenly looked at VGGB. His expression was grim and serious, his carefree attitude on the flight there had disappeared. "I don't know what's happening in this town, but something super sketchy is definitely up, do not drop your guard..." He said, quiet enough so the guards wouldn't hear.

--------------------------------

@Lazo@Guess Who@Awesomoman64


Ah, so it was time. Violet's ears twitched as she steeled herself for combat. It wasn't the first time she'd been in battle, and it would hardly be the last. Sixty Nevermores approaching? With the four of them plus the might of the Atlesian vessel on their side, this battle would be swift and decisive. Of course, Violet knew that she should never underestimate her opponents, no matter who they were, why it reminded her of the time tha-

Violet's train of thought was broken as she instinctively caught the rifle that was tossed at her. Violet quickly looked over the rifle, analyzing every detail of it and feeling it's weight, getting a handle of the weapon and how it would perform. It seemed to be fairly standard Atlesian tech, functional and reliable, nothing too quirky or fancy about it.

At Sand's explanation for the rifles Violet nodded in agreement, it made complete sense. After all, Violet's arrows were custom made and she would prefer if she could retrieve them if possible. That was one of the downsides of using bow and arrows, when you were out of arrows, you were out of luck...

At Sand's finally question, Violet merely clicked off the safety on the rifle, pointing the thing upwards. "Of course."

Violet glanced at Robert, for whatever reason, he seemed rather nervous. Hmmm...this was where she was supposed to reassure her teammate yes? She decided to give it a try.

"Um...don't worry...Robert." Phew! She remembered his name! "We've got this...no need to worry. N-Not that I'm implying you're nervous or anything!" Ugh, this was harder than she thought...she just wanted to start shooting already and forget she said a thing!

@Silvan Haven@Crimmy@Abillioncats

Silver Applegate - Airship -> Gallia - Civil War

Having planned their initial steps upon arrival (and the ship finally stabilizing) Silver took the chance to rest. He shared the pillow with Beryl, who hadn't slept as mush as she wished she had. It wasn't an unpleasant experience, he thought.

Aside from the ocasional shake of the ship, Silver would only wake up when they were about to arrive at Gallia. He stretched his body and took a look outside. It wasn't a good sight to wake up to, to say the least. "This looks bad..." He said as they passed by the site of what must've been a major battle.

As they began their descent, Silver picked up his gear. His handcannon was safely strapped to his leg. He brought 4 bullets in total, one of which was already chambered and the remaining 3 secured on an ammo belt by the left side of his hip. He swung the metal box that served for the scabbard of his gunblade over his shoulder and had ammo pouches for his various ammunitions strapped to his vest.

When he was done, Silver followed Andrew out of the ship and into the courtyard of their contractor's mansion. Silver made a quick scan of the area. "The place sure is fancy..." They were greeted by armed guards, but Andrew was quick to introduce the team to them. "The guards are on edge... Though that's to be expected." Silver thought as he followed the guards down the hallway.

The professional huntsman was tense as well, giving the team a warning to be on guard. With a nod Silver pushed a button at the lower end of his scabbard and with a soft sound its side opened up to allow the weapon to be drawn at a moment's notice. He also pondered what sort of ammo he could rely on while indoors. "Fire's out of the question. Ballistics could work if there's room... I guess wind's the safest bet here." He also ran his hand through the frame of his shades hanging over his head. "It would probably be too suspicious to wear them indoors... At least for now" He decided not to wear them for the time being and simply followed Andrew and the guards.

As the team sat (or paced in Robert’s case) waiting in the back, Trad opted to pass the time with one last equipment check. First he tested his shield, expanding and collapsing it a few times to make sure all the parts moved smoothly. Once he was satisfied he switched to his sword and continued the process, as well as checking his sights and clips. He wanted to make sure they were ready for anything. Last thing they needed was a repeat of what happened right out of the gate last mission.

After he completed his gear check, he joined in the others in anxious silence. His mind no longer distracted began making up scenarios in which things could go wrong. Luckily that wouldn’t last long as they were suddenly alerted to over sixty Nevermores approaching. Wow. Either they were giving off lots of negative emotions, or they picked a bad flight path. Either way, Trad stood up and immediately equipped his shield while changing Gram into its rifle mode.

Sand momentarily split from the group, but came back just as quickly with some new hardware for her and Violet. Already thinking ahead of the fight. There was a reason Sand was put in as the team’s new leader. After they entered the elevator and Sand explained her plan, Robert requested that Trad kick things off with a “cool one liner”.

“Wait, when did I become the one liner guy?” Trad asked. ”Uhh, looks like we’re having chicken for our on flight meal… No that was terrible." Trad dismissed his attempt at wit and scratched the back of his neck trying to think of something else. “Why don’t you come back to me in a few minutes and I’ll have something else.”

@Crimmy@Lazo@Abillioncats@Guess Who