A Grimm Tale

Disclaimer: RWBY is not owned by yours truly. Nope. This is my first venture into anything resembling fan fiction, so bear with me. Most of all... enjoy the story.

Jaune Arc was not having a great day. The first thing that he'd done when he had woken up was to check on his scroll's timer, the silence of the early morning showing him the situation as it was, his eyes looking at the words that'd been boldly lining the message that'd popped up in his inbox. Already he could feel the dread building in his gut as he saw the sender, the face of his elder sister popping up on the screen as the message played on the screen. Grabbing his jacket and getting it on, he could see his partner stir in her slumber, her face looking serene in the light that fell in from the window, her covers partially loose. He moved to her bed, straightening out the covers on instinct, the gesture always appreciated by his sisters... whenever they were home.

A melancholic look came over his face as he closed the door behind him, the scroll tucked away in one of his pockets as he walked down the hallway, remembering what he came here to do. Opening the scroll up again with the map of Beacon up on the screen, he found himself on one of the rooftops, pulling out the blade of his ancestor, Crocea Mors looking like the remembrance of the foregone wearer, whose life had been marked by the war. The small notches on the blade showed the previous wielders' fate, even as his sisters had always preferred a more outlandish combination of weaponry.

They had been allowed to pick whatever weapon that they had wished for, the family funds having stretched themselves to accommodate the wishes of the eldest, even if it were to be a little ludicrous with the Dust usage. They had always made do with the best of the best, the legacy of the Arc family having been one of nobility and heroics up until the point where he was born.

Taking the stance that he had seen in one of the promotional images of professional hunters, he stabbed with the blade forwards, the twist of his body to turn around and bring his shield up to block against an imaginary Grimm catching him unaware, making him stumble and fall, his voice giving a soft whine of pain. "Come on..." he said, getting up again. "You can do this." He muttered to himself, his voice holding some of the frustrations that he had held, his eyes focusing on the imaginary Grimm that stood just out of reach.

The initiation had been a wakeup call for him. His dreams of being a hero, of being a hunter who could get the renown that had been destined for him was now changing. No longer did he think that he could just be a sole hero, who could rely on the willpower of someone who had been blessed by the indomitable spirit of humanity and come out against all the odds. No longer did he think that he was 'on the winning team' as he'd so put it, Weiss had been harsh in snubbing that dream out. Pyrrha's skills in the forest had been the only thing that'd saved him, save for some blind luck. Jaune knew that much, even if she had obediently followed him into the cave. He should've KNOWN that there wouldn't be any pictures depicting a strange creature there put up by the Beacon staff.

As he stabbed the air once more, Jaune could feel the burning brush of effort mark his body, the weariness of his body wiped away by the stab of defeat that came at him as his grip on the blade nearly dropped it. "Damn it." He said, voice holding the regret heavy, as he looked up at the moon, the shattered moon glowing in the skies like the remnant of the world that it was purported to be by one of the leading scientists of the current day. "I've got to do better." His words were not hollow, even as he twisted and stabbed again, trying to keep a solid grip on the blade and work it into a suitable routine.

The downside of doing this on his own was that he did not have the training needed to work through the hurdles that only a trainer could spot, his blade's chopping motion slow, even though he tried his best to emulate how Pyrrha did it. They were only three weeks into classes, the teachers kind enough to not rush the curriculum, even though he was woefully unprepared to face any of his opponents. Cardin seemed to really have it in for him ever since their first spar, ready to just bash him down whenever he tried his best to block the blows that he saw coming and mitigating the other blows with his armour, the aura thing being pretty neat for making sure that it didn't get to the point where he'd need to get to the infirmary.

As he put Crocea Mors back in the sheath, the alarm blaring that his session had been done, he could feel the wear and tear on his body continue to strengthen him, as the skies started to turn red. "You might wish to keep your balance a little bit better, Mister Arc." Headmaster Ozpin's voice said as he appeared to stand at the edge of the roof, looking at the skies. "Your right side is unbalanced. Focus more on the leg and move with the motion of your blade." The man's voice was neutral, showing neither irritation at his stupidity, the voice of the Headmaster having that tone of far-off thought. "The sunrise is beautiful, is it not?" The man said, as the cup of coffee moved to his lips, Jaune catching a faint glimpse of heat fogging the man's glasses, as his gaze rested on the moon. "It is, Sir." The man gave a faint smile, shaking his head as if something were amusing to him. "The rising sun is a beacon of light, Mister Arc. Never let go of that spark of hope, of another dawn rising to banish the darkness all around you." The words were deep and meaningful, reminiscent of something that his mother had once said, although whether it applied here was dubious. "You will always see another morning, Jaune. You've got to get up and make the most out of it because there'll be dirty laundry for you if you don't do it in the mornings." The lessons in cooking and cleaning had been worth it, to Jaune's estimation, as he had learned how to make sure that everything smelled fresh and clean, ready to be used by the time that the rest of the family woke up.

"Thank you, Sir. Have a good day." Jaune beat a hasty retreat, even as he felt the gaze of the Headmaster on his back, the man's smile broader than it had been before. As he hurried to the showers, he became dimly aware that the man must've been standing there for a while, if he had caught that slip, the style that he'd tried his best at still eluding him. He'd get it... eventually.

The instruction on how to get their rocket lockers operational was something that he had no great interest in, the speech by Miss Goodwitch about how their lockers had been programmed to be summoned with a simple press of the button on their scroll going over his head. He watched how Ruby seemed to animatedly chat with her sister about something, his friend giving a riveting show of moving her hands to accentuate her story, whilst the beautiful Weiss stood to the side, looking unruffled as always, her eyes looking at Miss Goodwitch explaining the differences in the programming, as well as the codes that could be used for certain situations.

"Hey Jauney boy." Cardin's voice came to his ear, and suddenly he found himself pushed towards his opened locker. The metal rocked against his body, as he could see the locker's door slam shut, his hands pushing against the pneumatic lock as it clicked shut. "Three digits... and then one more set... Happy flight, Jauney boy."

As the engine below the locker kicked into high gear, he could only groan. "Come onnnnn!" He shouted, even as the locker launched itself into the air, the sensation of being pressed against the locker's back and feeling how the spare parts of the armour that he'd taken from his family's home pressed against him, the only luck that seemed to be with him this morning. First, he'd been unable to get into the routine and now he was flying through the air, ready to go and have to make the trek back to Beacon from wherever Cardin had sent him.

"Don't you think that was a little harsh?" Sky Lark asked, nervously looking between his leader and Dove Bronzewing, who was busy with entering the code to his own locker, the redheaded leader giving a grunt, as he looked around. "If Jauney boy didn't want to go on a special trip with his locker, he could've fought back, right?" Sky's gaze went down, his eyes looking hesitant still. "B-but won't we get in trouble if something happens?" Cardin's pat on his shoulder was enough to make him look up, his gaze meeting with that of his leader. "Don't worry. What's the worst that could happen, eh? Goodwitch won't be happy if we slack off on listening to her." Their attention turned back to the teacher, whose hands were motioning at the holographic screen that she'd got behind her. "The additional forms that can be shifted from the locker are guarded by the..." The woman continued to speak, Sky Lark's face brightening a little, seeing that there would be no issue cropping up for them at this moment.

"We should DO something. Yang!" Ruby spoke to her sister, Weiss giving a soft huff. "If he did not wish to get shoved into a locker and sent off flying, he could have fought back. This is a combat school, after all." The words were easy to say, even as her frosty blue eyes looked at the members of team CRDL, Yang's eyes shifting between the leader and the co-leader of team JNPR. With Jaune currently off into the skies, it would fall to Pyrrha to remain in charge, Nora speaking rapidly to Ren about something or the other, seemingly unaware that their leader had been sent for a special trip elsewhere. "Sometimes you've got to let people fight for their own problems, Ruby. It's not always going to be a big sister that'll pop in and beat them all up for you." A soft chuckle came from her as she nudged Blake's unguarded side. "Unless you've got a partner like mine. She may say that she's all fierce, yet she's still reading a-" The partner who was referred to moved her hand in a flash, covering Yang's mouth, Yang's eyes sparkling, as Blake's voice spoke with her usual volume. "A novel that has the romantic appeal within its pages." The look on Blake's face was grim as she met Yang's eyes, the burning spirit of the brawler starting to make itself be known by that look shifting to one that was far more genial, the hand pulled away. "It's pooooorr-"

"It's NOT pornography, you blonde..." Blake's voice was heated with emotion, her eyes looking into Yang's, the brawler's hands grabbing hers and lightly pulling them apart, the tension that went through her body unnatural, even as she stiffened. The touch of her partner should not be too dissimilar to what she was used to, especially not after some of the missions that she had done yet the thoughts remained. Yang Xiao-Long was a woman who was affectionate and touchy, under the best circumstances. She'd seen it before and she would no doubt come to experience it again. The young woman liked to hold on to something and latch on like a barnacle until she had her fill, utilizing every skill that she had under her belt to maintain her grip and to ensure that the goal of utter Yang domination would be achieved before rolling off, having some laughs and then making off to the next folly to invest time in. "Oho, it's not porn? Colour me surprised!" The blonde's grin stretched from ear to ear as she leaned in. "Care to lend me your book for a bit?" The question was asked softly at a level that Blake could hardly fathom the blonde to speak, wordlessly handing her own copy to Yang, the bookmark tucked carefully into the tome to keep her place. "Make sure to enjoy it safely."

Yang's eyebrows waggled, even as she tuned out Ruby's cry of 'Yaaang, I'm an adult now! I drink milk, Yaaaaang!' to lean forwards. "You're a deviant little one, aren't you?" She didn't colour red in the cheeks at all. Years of being able to ensure her own safety in the White Fang had taught her how to control her expression, merely giving Yang a look and a smile, as if her words barely affected her. "I'm going to read this, and enjoy." A nod. Blake would bet on it that the book would be discarded in her bag before the afternoon, the blonde's attention shifting to something else.

"He'll be fine! Our glorious leader will be fiiiiiine, Pyrrha. How far could a rocket locker bring him? A mile? Maybe two? That's just a short brisk walk, slaying thousands upon thousands of Grimm!" The excited Valkyrie chattered on as Ren laid a hand on her shoulder, the chattering growing less with every step that they took, the redheaded girl's chattering tapering off eventually as she looked around, her breathing slow and easy, her hyperactivity bleeding off to silence. "He'll be fine, Pyrrha. He'll return and train with us, I'm sure of it." The words of the lotus-emblem wearing teenager were spoken at that same calm methodical tone of voice that he used, his pink lock pushed out of his face as Nora stepped away from him, regaining some of her lustre after getting a certain distance from him, no more than two feet. "Our brave and fearless leader will be fine, Pyrrha. How about we go get something for lunch?" The spartan girl gave a brittle smile, her gaze cast low. "I still worry. Perhaps I'll go and ask Professor Goodwitch whether she could track him down and help him get back. There's a tracking beacon in every single one of them, after all." The worried face of Pyrrha was something that seemed to impact the two other members of the team, her gaze shifting between Ren and Nora, the feelings that the spartan evoked within them being written all over Nora's face. "Ooh, someone's got her eye on someone! Oh gosh, does that mean we're going to be invited? Ren? Do you think she'll invite us?" The question hung in the air, as Nora started getting ideas on how the dress would look, Pyrrha's cheeks reddening as the line of thought brought her into the mood to think on something like that. Professor Goodwitch had other things to do, undoubtedly. They could hardly be the only freshman class at Beacon in need of combat and utility instruction, after all.

The rocket-propelled locker began its descent, leading the sole occupant to feel a sense of vertigo, Jaune's stomach recoiling from the stresses of coming down to earth once again, his body feeling the stresses pound upon it as the descent was not as gentle as it could be, the THUD of the locker hitting the ground with force that had been instructed by the coordinates rattling his ears as his body was pressed against the back of the locker, his shield painfully digging into his side. It was lucky that he was with his weapons, even if the armour still had been hung up in his team's room. Pushing open the locker door with his hand, Jaune's first response was right for him. Crawling over the side, he could feel the vomit burning through his throat and the first order of business was for him to eject it from his throat before it'd stick.

As his breakfast joined the green grass, he allowed himself a moment to gather himself, his hands supporting his getting up, feeling the nearly non-existent feeling of hope try to surge, even as he looked at what he was facing. Seven Beowolves looked back at him, their masked faces showing not a singular shred of pity or remorse as their gazes were locked upon him as if he were a tasty morsel at a buffet. The blood drained from his face as he grabbed his sword and shield, his adrenaline rising immediately at the thought of having to face these.

Blind terror washed over him as he saw the first one charge, clearly the one who'd been highest in the pecking order, the voice of Professor Port reaching his ear from a lecture earlier. "The Beowolf has a structure in its hunting behaviour when facing with a singular foe. First the alpha of the pack goes, why, I myself had been up against a horde when I was but a young man, with no moustache as to speak of yet and a cabbage in my..." His shield was up in the manner that he'd been taught, even with his own sorry chances of getting out of this alive. His shield blocked the first strike without even rattling, his balance shot by the force that'd been applied by the creature of darkness. Its bony protrusions leered at him, a scream coming from his mouth, enough to be high and girly at its best, worse enough to feel the soul-squashing terror that bound him.

Crocea Mors' blade cut through the hide of the beast, that oily thick hide that seemed to puff with the scent of darkness and despair wrapping around it, the creature giving a dull roar as it snapped at him, his shield bearing the brunt once more of the attack. Jaune knew that this would have to be decisive, for the other Grimm would not be happy waiting for him to have dealt the killing blow before starting to go and encroach. They would be coming for him if he didn't wrap this up soon. His dreams of being a hero... might just be ending here, far away from Beacon. Far away from home.

"Do you know where Jaune is?" Ruby asked, the glint in her silver eyes showing her worry. The look on Lie Ren's face was placid as the surface of a still lake, shaking his head. "Undoubtedly he'll be back soon. It's only been two hours since he'd been sent flying. Professor Ozpin will know where he is, because the beacons inside the lockers will track its position." The red-cloaked huntress-in-training's face seemed to show even greater worry, as Pyrrha's gaze cast down. "How about we go for the headmaster's office after the next class? He's a hunter in training now, he can handle a few beowolves on his own." Yang's confident voice seemed to have no ulterior motive associated with it as she leaned against the wall, Ruby and Pyrrha's worried gaze meeting hers. The spartan's gaze cast down immediately, her chronic hesitation making itself be known once more. "But Yang..." Ruby started, as Weiss spoke up, her eyes flashing. "It is not our worry to think about what Arc does. If he's weak enough to get himself put into a locker, then he's going to have to fight his way out of there to return. There is a return button located on the display, anyways."

The sensibility of that argument was hard to deny, even as Nora smiled broadly, putting herself into the spotlight again. "But what if he was suddenly fighting ninety beowolves at the same time, slaying them with his super Jaune powers? He's got a very big aura, according to Pyrrha, so he'd be like 'WHAM WHAM SLICE!'!' The enthusiastic hammer-grenade-launcher wielder spoke, moving Magnhild in tune with her grandiose gestures. "He'll be back soon, I just know it!" The enthusiasm in her voice was greater to boost the spirits of her teammates, Ren giving a soft sigh at the way that she spoke. "He'll be fine, indeed. We've got to believe in him." Pyrrha said something under her breath, her gaze cast down to the ground and the words merely coming out in a mumble, her hand going through her hair, her smile noticeably brittle as she looked up. "Yes... it'll be alright, I think. He's a good Leader."

The first beowolf was starting to degrade, even with its pack-mates coming to its defence, the stalling manners that had been shown in the movies hardly working. As he moved through the steps that he had seen before with Pyrrha, trying to keep his footing, he knew that he was deep up the creek of the bad doo-doo. The beowolves seemed to be drawn to the scent of blood, the scratch on his cheek from the alpha's spine stinging a little, his aura having helped out a little to deflect the damage, yet hopelessness was starting to come as a heavier fate to him right now.

"Heeeyah!" He shouted, the blade cutting through the paw of the Beowolf, the metal shearing through the limb as if it were barely there, leaving only the dark ichors to come to the air, smoking with the foul scent that he associated with the Grimm. He thrust his blade next through the neck, lancing through it and then trying to tear it out, feeling the sudden pressure on him to perform, as the beast thrashed to remove the blade from its throat. The shield rattled in his arm, his body batted to the side by one of the beowolves' paws, making his blade be jerked out of the throat of the beowolf. The smoky ichors on the edge reminded him that its death was almost ensured. Most of them died when you did enough damage to them, right?

Another heavy battering arm hit his side, the outfit that he wore during classes on Beacon's grounds starting to show the scuff-marks of combat, even though the fabric was still reinforced with aura-sensitive fibres. The protection of the uniform was far less than the armour that he'd nicked from the armoury at home, yet it was all he had. Rolling over the ground and keeping himself aware that if he faltered, he would be dead with no legacy. His shield rose once more, as he tried to get himself aware, the slavering jaws of the Grimm coming ever closer, his blade moving in an arc and the feeling of something hitting him in the face was enough to jolt him out of his thoughts.

"Just... Got to..." His thoughts went, as he watched the dissipating Beowolf, the decapitation having served as its execution. He got to his feet, the head of the Beowolf decaying beside him. "Who wants some more, eh? Come at me!" He called out, as the other Beowolves moved in, the battle joined now. With only the trees to bear witness to that final fight of Jaune Arc, it was a desperate call to the bravado of a hero to infuse him with the strength to fight and keep living. "If I just had enough time!"

"The budget reports are to be handled by the early morning, headmaster." The voice of Glynda Goodwitch delivered the report with efficient tones, her face looking as serious as it always was, the headmaster's cup moving up to his lips, the hot chocolate sipped before the cup was put down. "Young Mister Arc is still missing from the premises." The words made the headmaster look up, an eyebrow raised. "And what do you presume happened?" The question came, as the deputy headmistress looked at her superior. Her stance on official business matters was unshaken and unmoved by personal opinions. "His locker is missing and the beacon is activated. What do you suggest?" She said, her voice showing no inflection. "The training could be aborted. A search could go out." Ozpin's moderate voice spoke as he looked at his deputy. "He was accepted, so his skills should be in order." Her response came, though doubt tinted it.

"You hold doubts." The man's voice sounded in the room, even as the bing of an elevator sounded, the sound of the door sliding open to reveal Ruby Rose and Pyrrha Nikos, the headmaster's countenance barely ruffled. "Ah, miss Rose, miss Nikos... What do I have the honour of seeing the two of you at this time?" The barely perceivable stiffening of Glynda's back showed that the sudden interruption from the discussed topic seemed to have affected her manner, her eyes a shade fiercer than before.

"Sir, it's about Jaune Arc. It's been three hours since we have seen him and we were hoping that you'd know more." The polite tones of Pyrrha Nikos' voice, cultivated through vocal training in the art of appealing to a crowd, spoke, as Ruby seemed to dart her gaze through the room, obviously interested in the gears that kept on spinning. "Miss Nikos, believe me when I say that the topic has come up as well for our discussion at this moment." The headmaster's hand moved to the screen, opening up a file. A map of the surrounding lands appeared on the screen, showing the Beacon academy grounds with crystal clarity. The headmaster's hand moved once more to tap in some commands in the holographic display, his eyes looking at the readouts, before a blip appeared on the screen, far off to the upper right. "The Creme mountain ridges..." The man's voice held barely an inflection, though Professor Goodwitch's response was somewhat more emotive. "Do you want me to go fetch Mister Arc?" The question held a backing of steel within it, the blonde's gaze looking straight at her boss, ignoring the sounds from Ruby and Pyrrha. "I will go myself." The man said, his voice sounding serious. "What is the Creme mountain ridge?" Pyrra asked, her voice holding nervousness in it. "A very bad place." The headmaster's deputy said, even as her gaze went to the screen, where the dot showed up like an angry red blip.

"It was one of the few natural barriers that protect Vale from the encroaching Grimm. With the height of the walls that guard our city, we have to ensure that the ridges are routinely cleared of the Grimm before they swell to such a number as to attempt a surge." The headmaster's voice was distant, as he looked out of his window to the direction where the mountain ridge was. "Arrange for a bullhead. I'm going to retrieve mister Arc." The man's voice held steel as he put his cane on his belt, readying himself for the departure.

"You have no idea how lucky that boy is." Glynda Goodwitch said as the headmaster departed, her fingers tapping onto the holographic keys to arrange for the transportation. The headmaster's orders carried the weight of the institution behind it, as the blonde deputy continued to work. "He's not well-trained at all." The admission made the blonde woman look up, Pyrrha's voice having distracted her from her work for a moment, her fingers continuing to enter the requisition form's critical data. "I had my doubts. His grades were too... glowing." The woman's voice spoke with the disaffection of one who was busy. "But he's Jaune. He's a good guy, he just needs some help with the forms." The hollow laugh that came from the blonde woman's direction silenced that objection. "We are an elite combat school, Miss Rose. Without the skills, you would not get in, no matter the recommendation you have."

"I got in." Glynda adjusted her glasses a little, her gaze meeting Ruby's for a moment. "The headmaster has his reasons. I do not profess to know them." Ruby gave a faint smile, as she remembered that meeting. "We had bad guys and I beat them. You were there as well, Professor Goodwitch." The woman's lips thinned. "It does not mean that anyone can just join this academy without being trained in the arts of fighting Grimm." The woman's strictness on that point was one of her defining features, most of the alumni would admit, as she straightened out. "I'll make a request to remove him from the program and send him home. The untrained do not need to take a spot from those who would have the training and the capacity, yet did not make the cut."

"He's a good Leader, though." Pyrrha said, the deputy's face inscrutable. "Tactical skill alone does not mean that he should take a space meant for a hunter of worth, Miss Nikos." The redhead's gaze swept up, taking in the headmaster's second in command, her lips thinly pressed together. "Then I will train him up to be the best that he can be. We have a similar style, we have both a sword and a shield." The headmistress' brittle smile seemed to grow even more brittle, her gaze cast out the window as a lone bullhead rose up, gathering some speed and moving towards the direction that had been indicated by the blipping beacon.

Jaune's body rolled, as the last of the beowolves charged at him. His aura had held out, even as the dissolving remains of the beowolves continued to fill the air with a haze of corruption, the smell of the darkness stinging his nose. His aura was dangerously low at this point, the scratches on his side bleeding heavily. "Woah!" He shouted as he watched a swipe come closer, dodging backwards and stumbling, the shield that he held up to guard blocking the majority of the swipe, the beowolf looking at him with those hateful red eyes. It looked at him with those eyes observing, watching carefully as it seemed to sniff the air. A baleful howling sound came from its throat then, as something seemed to shift in the air. The trees around them seemed to fade out, as some sort of dark liquid seemed to come from the ground, wrapping around the beowolf and seemingly getting absorbed by the dark inky flesh that it held, the beowolf giving a deep dark howl that seemed to rumble, as bony growths emerged from the beast's back, the mask warping into a more menacing form, the teeth lengthening.

"This isn't good." Jaune said, as corruptive black ooze seemed to drip from the beowolf's form, the grass wilting around it as the energies of negativity focused around the beowolf. A howl, garbled and cruel, came from its maw, echoing through the trees and leaving a shuddering sensation through his body, as the beast charged.

He moved the shield in front of him, to block the first strike, feeling how the body of the beast pounded against him. A snapping sound was heard, as an oddly light sensation went through his left arm, like it had become able to suddenly bear the strain, even as the tearing sound reached his ears. His blade hacked at the body of the grimm, trying to do as much damage as he could onto it, leaving only the brush of mortality to paint his flesh with the gore-splattered hue.

As the rush flowed through his bones, Jaune roared a primal cry of defiance against the Grimm that sought to end his life, to end his story in the grand tapestry of history, even as the lightness of his left side seemed strange to him. He tried to bring his shield up to block the swiping arm, only to come to the realisation that there was nothing to move up.

Jaune's gaze looked at the small stump that had been a fully functioning arm a moment before, laying half a yard away, red blood welling up from the wound with every pump of his heart. Lightheaded, he sought to gain his footing, as the Beowolf swiped at him again, leaping back despite the light-headedness that sought to conquer his will.

His aura was already shattered from the unflinching assault, the Grimm that had assailed him before having whittled it down to such a moment where there was nothing to be done about it, the blood that continued to pump out of the wound leaving not a scratch, even as he could feel how his consciousness started to fade, darkness creeping at the edges of his vision. "I will NOT die here!" He mentally cried out, physically trying to do the same though the sound was garbled, the terror at having lost an arm to the creature that had been set up as his final foe for this encounter leaving him to know not what expression of his rage and frustration he had made.

A hiss seemed to fill his ears, as blackness claimed him, the blade sticking right through the Beowolf's lower jaw, the fading sensation of his senses continuing onwards as blackness fell to cover his whole body. He could not feel anything but the sensation of his processes slowly shutting down, even as his hand clutched the blade with the grip of one who had stood for his beliefs and his desire to become a hero.

Laying below the fading corroding form of the Beowolf Jaune Arc found his fate, as the ichor-like substance oozed off the form of the Beowolf, reclaimed by the earth in some manner, leaving only a thick cloud of dark miasma around. Red eyes peered from all around the wooded part of the mountain, the single rocket-propelled locker standing as a testament, a singular crimson light blinking rhythmically as its status was sent through the aether towards the receiver. The beasts charged towards that last spark of life, to finally snuff the remnant of a hunter from the mortal coil.

As the bullhead carried him towards the blinking dot on the screen, a miniature version wrapped around his wrist, Ozpin, headmaster of Beacon Academy stood with his face a grim mask of emotionless behaviour. A gamble that had been made, having been lost. With the status of the Arc child now unknown, there would have to be some sort of exchange made, no matter the situation that would spiral from this little debacle.

A hunter out in the wilds without proper backup was usually a casualty of the hordes of Grimm drawn by the negativity that clung to them. Without the guarding light of their soul, it would be even direr a fate for those human settlements, the Headmaster's eyes having seen many such villages overrun and decaying during the years of service that he had put into defending Remnant from the threat of the Grimm. "We're coming closer to the marker, Headmaster." The pilot spoke, the short tone showing enough. "Hover until I give the signal to land." The whirling air whistled through his ears as the headmaster looked out over the sea of trees, the sight of several Grimm already catching his attention, instincts honed by the years of training telling him that to get out of this, he would need to act swiftly.

The leap was hardly a challenge, the dirt underfoot giving lightly as he straightened, his walking cane extending into his preferred weapon, a Beowolf shattered with a simple tap, faster than most people could even get their weapon into position, the boon of a life's worth of training. The Headmaster moved with a light jog, his cane flashing in swift motions to dispense of the creatures of the Grimm. Worry would not show on his face, even as he neared the blinking dot on the small watch that held the locator.

Trees guarded the sides, the mountainous terrain unmarked by the hands of any living creature in the last thirty decades. The mountain range had been inhospitable due to the swell of the Grimm, the Headmaster's manner of moving leaving little trace of him, as he came to the site of the locker. The blood splatter that covered one side of the metal made the man wince, knowing that this would probably be yet another gruesome tale to tell to the people that were waiting back at the Academy for the news that he would bring, his eyes discerning a shield laying to the side... with the arm still attached.

Walking to the arm, Ozpin could see the faint mark where the bone and flesh had been torn off from the torso, the grass stained with the crimson spray and the puddle where the body had hit the ground, left to show the mark of where the body had lain before it was removed somehow. Ozpin's finger brushed over the point where the arm had been amputated from the Arc boy's shoulder, feeling the ragged digit as he knelt down beside it. "A Beowolf, by the claws... But why would she?" The headmaster's words were unheard by anyone, fading upon the howl of a Beowolf echoing through the surroundings, calling for more of its kind. The headmaster's business-like manner changed immediately, his gaze going towards the surroundings, trying to discern whether the body was anywhere near.

"He cannot be alive." The conclusion was stark, yet logical. The human body could only survive so much damage before it would give out and if the headmaster had to silence the emotions within him... the Arc boy would have been dead long since. No-one could withstand grievous injuries like one's arms being torn off and continue to fight with as little training as he had. "This is Ozpin. Land close by. I have found... the remains." The grim reminder of what happened to those unprepared to deal with the forces of the Grimm was here, the headmaster pulling out a small medical wrapping, laying the shield and the arm on the fabric and wrapping it, lifting it up. The weight was a bitter reminder that the rest was mangled beyond belief, no doubt languishing within some belly of a beowolf or some-such.

The beasts did have no desire to hunt the animals of the land or harm them, unless the territorial dispute forced them to. The death of all humans had always been their goal, ever since they had been spawned from the will of one of the Gods... and he knew that the fate of those hunters that had been caught unaware within the wilds was always a grisly one. As the bullhead landed, he stepped into the machine, his gaze cast back to the direction where the locker laid. A shake of his head as the door slid closed, cutting the flow of air and leaving him to hear the machinery whirr as it carried him back to Beacon.

"Are you sure that this is right?" The short red-cloaked huntress asked as she stood at the landing pad, the bullhead touching down softly on the pad, the door opening slowly to show the man that they had been waiting for. The face of the headmaster was unusually grave as he walked forth with a decided step. "Did you find him?" Her companion spoke up, urgency in her voice as green eyes focused upon the headmaster's hands, holding a long wrapped bundle, something that was too small to be the form of her team's leader.

"I found Mister Arc, yet was too late." The words of the headmaster held gravitas, as he unveiled a part of the bundle, a familiar shield appearing before the two of them.

Ruby was dimly aware of the reality of things. Her head turned from the headmaster to the bullhead, silver eyes peering at the bullhead. "Jaune is back there, isn't he?" Her voice trembled, as her lip quivered. The headmaster's head slowly shook. "This was all that I managed to salvage." She could feel her heart beating a little faster, even as a low moan came from beside her. Something stung her eye, her hand moving to brush it away, seeing the hot tears that moistened her flesh, the realisation that she was crying hitting her only a moment later.

"Jaune..." Pyrrha's voice was soft, yet the shattering intensity of that voice of hers speaking up so softly, so utterly brokenly, was heartrending in its own way. The Mistralian girl's eyes were moist, as her gaze remained on the shield and what was still attached to it in the professor's arms, the cloth still covering most of the arm that held it, yet the fingers that held the grip were faintly exposed to her gaze... and then the invincible girl fainted dead away, hitting the ground with only a faint sigh escaping her lips.

"Cremea Arc speaking, what can I do for you?" The voice of a young woman came from the speaker, a blonde-haired woman wearing a set of combat gear with a long pole-arm weapon strapped to her back appearing in the view screen as the headmaster stood before the long-distance communication device that would be able to allow him to relay the news. "Professor Ozpin, is this about a joint mission with the Beacon Academy? Father is not in right now, he is-" The Headmaster held up his hand to silence her, a gesture that had commanded many to silence their tongue after a moment. "I am calling to inform you that your brother, Jaune Arc, has passed away." The huntress' face paled, as she turned around, mouth opening up and a shout for their mother to come quickly coming through the speaker a moment later.

Ozpin disliked informing the family of the death of a loved one. It was always such a sad affair, to make the final rites to be worth the sacrifice that every huntsman paid for the safety of the world, yet he knew that it was his duty to inform those who had been left behind of what had become of their loved one. He owed that much to the Arc family.

Even in the greatest darkness... the beacon would continue to light the way. He would make sure of that, even as he waited for the girl to return to the screen with her mother. Words were to be spoken.

A first attempt at pushing out something for the RWBY category! I hope that you've enjoyed it and will leave a review for me to know what you thought of it. A second chapter is also in the works (Although the work week is just beginning.) so... I'll probably leave you hanging a bit with these words...

Silver eyes widened. A glass shattered. A rose awoke.

And I hope you're up for reading more! Helpful critique and tips and what-else are always appreciated!

As a small notice at the bottom - The story properly starts at chapter 5. Don't think that because the main focus is on the aftermath, that it isn't a Jaune-centric story. Reading it all does lend some perspective on the events that happen. Enjoy the story though! It's a very Grimm tale of loss, hope and tragedy. Also, officially... I guess you could call this Grimm! Jaune.