[Slate Seraphine]

War upon stone and it grows weaker.
War upon man and he grows stronger.

Which shall your wall be built of?

❝

One would think that Slate, as a Faunus who bore wolf traits, would be at home in a forest.

That was definitely not the case.

Her childhood had been spent on distant shores, clambering about boat rigging and craggy cliffs as opposed to the greenery of the woods. Her teenage years had been spent on the seas, pulling up fish from the waters they trawled. And her adults years had been spent in as much civilization as she could, either the looming cities with all the comforts that home lacked or the roads between them. Forests were something she decidedly did not like. The only reason to stray from the beaten roads was because something, or someone, somewhere, had fucked up. Bandit harassment, lack of supplies, or even just a deadline for delivery that was decidedly unreasonable - that was the only conceivable why she'd be going through Grimm infested deathtraps. She wasn't some insane fuckwad who got off on it, after all.

It was easy for one to consider landing from a height from the comfort of the ground. Hell, Slate had thrown herself across rooftops high above the ground before, running full tilt and dropping the distance from floor to floor with great aplomb. However, she'd never done so while nursing a hangover. And she'd certainly never been launched like this, a hundred feet up in the air and that number decreasing fast enough to shove her stomach up against her heart tightly enough that she had trouble keeping last night's dinner down.

Okay. Okay. She had this.

Spreading her limbs wide, the wolf Faunus pushed at the air around her and shaped it, turning what had been a freefall into a just barely controllable glide, angling herself for maximum air resistance. Spur of the moment, minute adjustments, and she slowed, the velocity no longer enough to be terminal but still too damn fast for her liking. She moved again, grazed the treetops, slammed into a branch hard enough to break it, and flailed wildly as she left a hole in the canopy large enough for a Bullhead to fit through. With a wordless scream of frustration, Slate punched, the force enough to send a shockwave through the air beneath her and halt her rapid descent enough that she was able to slam both fists into a nearby tree. Ignis' Aura infused metal was enough to protect her hands from the damage that it would cause, but not enough to keep the paint from being scraped off the metal as she slowed herself to a stop, panting heavily.

Taking a deep breath into her aching lungs, Slate pulled herself out of the two long grooves she'd carved into the tree trunk and dropped the rest of the way to the ground. The nausea came back with a vengeance, enough to make her heave again - and this time, she didn't manage to hold it back, retching her guts out into the dirt at the base of the tree. When she was done emptying her stomach, the wolf Faunus spat - and spat again, unable to get rid of the aftertaste of bile in her mouth and hating it. Thankfully still possessing enough sense to not collapse in a pool of her own sick, Slate took three steps to the right and slumped against the tree, feeling the cool bark against her forehead. Her cheeks hurt, her throat hurt, her head hurt, and her stomach was now empty. Some day this was turning out to be.

A growl rumbled through the air, and Slate lifted her head wearily to see red eyes glowing in the shadows of the trees before her. A Beowolf. No, not a Beowolf - four of them, skulking in the twilight like beggars at the gates of a mansion, waiting to barge in and hang the nobles up by their necks. Eyeing her hungrily, like a huntress would eye her prey.

She snapped.

"CHE DUE COGLIONI!"

The scream of raw frustration rang through the woods and echoed among the trees with such force that even the Grimm seemed to be taken aback. Teeth bared and eyes wild, the wolf Faunus was on her feet and ranting with enough force behind her words that one might think that those poor Beowolves had been tap dancing on her mother's grave for the past three weeks for all the vitriol being spat their way - in some cases literally, with the occasional piece of spittle flecking the air or being wiped away by her left gauntlet.

"Pezzo di merda! Vaffanculo sei figlio di troia! You wanna fucking go, stronza? Ti metto un remo in culo e ti sventolo per l’aria. Vaffanculo di Von Sanguine, vaffanculo di Haven, e vai a cacare!"

All of the frustration that had been building up over the past three days now flooding out of her like water out of a broken dam, a wordless cry tore its way out of the wolf Faunus' throat as she lunged her way towards the Beowolves, Ignis flaring behind her to give her speed - and with loud snarls from Faunus and Grimm alike, battle was joined.

REPULSE (SEMBLANCE): [RANK E]

BURN IN: RAGE AGGRESSOR [RANK F]
BURN IN: EXPLODE ENGAGE (AGILITY) [RANK F]
BURN IN: INFERNO CRUSADER (DURABILITY) [RANK F]
BURN IN: AFTERBURNER (SPEED) [RANK F]

DETONATOR: IGNIS (WEAPON): [RANK F]

@ ● 854 words ● 854 total words

MADE BY MIZO

[Arrats Calanthe]

Battle, Clarity, A meeting. 

Arrats had definitely picked the wrong area to land in. With his rough landing he had cuts all over his hands and legs. Small ones but they were annoyingly refusing to cease bleeding. He wouldn’t ask them to stop of course, they weren’t sentient but he didn’t have any medical training nor bandages. He’d just have to leave. To keep moving and hope he runs into someone along the way. After all the rules for Orchids meant he had to stay with at least one person at the end of all this. Though he didn’t imagine many people would wish to stay with him. His sister had always mentioned his self confidence issues around others. Always second guessing. Apparently he needed to be confident in himself and then everything else would fall into place. He didn’t believe that but he had to at least keep his hopes up.

He had to find someone eventually and his strategy of following the sounds of whatever was around should surely lead him to something. Though given his state if he was led astray by the sound then he’d most likely doomed himself. Even as he thought this he began to breathe more heavily. His mind raced with images and fear and his hands scraped at themselves for comfort.
A quick inventory would do his mind good then. As even though he realised he was breathing heavily his mind hadn’t completely reconciled with the panic his body was feeling. The purple haired boy took the backpack off his back and looked inside. Camping equipment and tools along with a little bit of food in case he needed the extra sustenance. Counting all of his tools a few times was enough to take him down from his hysterics. He stood up and slipped his backpack back on. He wouldn’t and couldn’t have another panic like that. It wasn’t a good place to have one. Especially if he was to be a hunter. Dropping like that shouldn’t have done that to him. For the moment though he had other problems.

The bleeding, right.

He checked over the bleeding on his arms. They were minute cuts and most have begun to clot. His legs were protected by the pants he had on though it seemed like it was stinging there anyway. A deep breath. He was okay. A smile found its way onto his face. He was okay, he survived the launch. He’d have to congratulate himself later. For the moment though he needed a moment to- noise. Something akin to a creature and...was that yelling? That was good. It meant someone was around. In a split second Black Dandelion was at his side and with a tap of a button the blade configured itself, pulling back its sharp edge to reveal a barrel jutting out. If he was to assist in whatever this was he’d join via range first then clean the stragglers via his sword. An easy enough plan to complete, first he’d need to head towards the noise. Then he’d be able to put his plan into motion. He headed towards the noise, keeping himself in the shadows until he reached it to find-

Four Beowolves, wonderful.

He cursed his own luck momentarily. There was a person fighting, another student it seemed. She- whoever she was-appeared to be holding their own remarkably well against the four Grimm. Though given the circumstances he would need to assist. Crouching on the ground and holding Dandelion ready he lined up one of the Beowolves. It wasn’t attacking yet and was holding off. An easy target for him then. A single, loud report fired off. That was one dust cartridge spent and on Grimm injured. Switching the Dandelion back to a sword Arrats slipped forward to reach the Grimm. Hopefully his assistance wouldn’t doom the both of them. The injured Grimm turned his way. It didn’t seem happy he was there at all and attempted to swipe at him.
“Too slow.”
His first words he’d said all morning to anyone but himself. The Grimm didn’t exactly hit him. In fact, he was only lightly grazed by the Beowolf. The Beowolf however didn’t seem to expect the light and fast sword thrusts that followed puncturing its hide faster than it could react. It didn’t go down, yet but he was certain that if he kept going this one would fall quickly and he’d move on to help this student more directly. Hopefully at least. His silent assistance would keep this person alive. Or even better uninjured. He didn’t have the materials to help himself let alone someone else.

To keep fighting was easy. This beast would fall soon, and he’d have to move on to the others. It was injured heavily. That much he could tell. He’d hit it in the eye with the Dandelion and the wounds he’d already inflicted by sword would bring it down soon enough. Indeed. He was right about the Beowolf falling as with a final stab into its chest the creature dropped. A final angry snarl leaving its mouth.
“Good, onto the next.”
Arrats turned around to face the other three currently occupied by the other student.
He lifted his Dandelion again and readied himself for the fight ahead.

(Word count: 881 words 881 total words)

[Slate Seraphine]

War upon stone and it grows weaker.
War upon man and he grows stronger.

Which shall your wall be built of?

❝

Everyone knew from a young age that Grimm were attracted to negative emotion, drilled into their brains by worried parents or whoever filled their role. On Menagerie, there had been a saying told to young children - fear led to rage, rage led to hate, and hate led to suffering. While the coast that Slate herself had grown up on had been relatively Grimm free, far away from forests and tunnels and dark places where the Grimm were said to come from, the key term there had been relative. Like all settlements that didn't wither out and die, their village had walls facing both land and sea, and defenses mounted on both. Nothing quite as fancy as Argus, with their technology and all that money to keep it running - but stone, brick, and mortar - those were easy enough to build, especially since her home had seated itself in a natural bay that served well enough as a port to make trade of such objects easier than other settlements might find. The wolf Faunus wasn't some sheltered child who'd lived only in built up cities and been protected her entire life - she had seen the Grimm from the sea on a regular basis as a child working on the docks and later on her father's boats, and as a courier for the White Fang she'd had to make her way across Anima for days and weeks at a time, taking whatever short cuts she could to get there just a little faster. So it wasn't as if Slate Seraphine didn't know how unchecked emotion could draw in Grimm faster than flies on a piece of dog shit in the street.

But damn if it didn't feel good to cut loose.

The first unfortunate Beowolf to be the target of her rage leapt over a fallen log and made for her. Too far for her fists to reach, but that didn't stop her from punching it anyway - blasts of air, each strong enough to shatter stone, blasted forth from every thrown fist until they riddled the Beowolf's leaping form with enough force to literally smash it apart into oily black smoke, the darkness dissipating in mid air.

The other three paused, reevaluating the situation.

Slate didn't.

Sprinting forward, the wolf Faunus threw herself into the fray again with reckless abandon - at the same time as a the report of a gun went off, and some guy joined the battle. The smallest of glimpses out of the corner of her eye and no more - getting distracted now would only give her opponents opportunities to turn the tide. Slate fought like she always had - going in hard and fast and deep, and destroying the other guy before he had a chance to get his wits about him. She never handled long battles well - the faster she got it over with, the better her chances. Ducking under the initial clawed swipe, feeling it graze past the top of her head, and she was inside the second Beowolf's swing, drilling it hard with punch after punch to the midsection, a flurry of blows that dazed the beast and gave her enough time to pull back and launch an uppercut that had the strength of her Semblance balanced on the tip of her knuckles. The concentrated blast of air blew apart the weakened Grimm like so much wet paper, and the wolf Faunus whirled around, teeth bared and ready to throw herself at the next enemy.

The boy had finished his own opponent off, and now the odds had sharply turned in their favor - but Slate was barely able to take stock of the situation before the last Beowolf was charging at her, attracted by the sheer rage radiating off of her. And while Beowolves were neither particularly hardy, nor particularly strong, they were fast, as this specimen proved by closing the distance between them in large bounds. With no time to react, the wolf Faunus was forced into the defensive, dropping to the dirt to avoid the claw coming at her face and then rolling away when it tried to stomp her head in with a taloned hind paw.

"Cazzo," she spat out through clenched teeth, pushing herself away from another swipe.

REPULSE (SEMBLANCE): [RANK E]

BURN IN: RAGE AGGRESSOR (STRENGTH) [RANK F]
BURN IN: EXPLODE ENGAGE (AGILITY) [RANK F]
BURN IN: INFERNO CRUSADER (DURABILITY) [RANK F]
BURN IN: AFTERBURNER (SPEED) [RANK F]

DETONATOR: IGNIS (WEAPON): [RANK F]

@ ● 706 words ● 1560 total words

MADE BY MIZO

[Arrats Calanthe]

The battle raged around Arrats. He wasn’t one to relish in combat but he couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight of the defeated Grimm behind him. It was a simple measure of joy though as his mind refocused on the creatures in front of him. Combat school was rough and it was painful but it taught him the killer instincts he needed to keep himself alive in situations like this. It was a period of time he looked back on with revulsion and it- in his mind at the very least- was a period of torture that while effective hurt his spirit in such a way that he’d never recover.

But even so. It felt good to embrace that little tortured bit of himself that whispered: “Burn it all down”

Dealing with that Grimm was easy enough. It was fast but not fast enough when it wasn’t aware of his presence. His semblance made it so even if they did, they'd be blind and wouldn’t be able to hit him. A just death for unjust creatures. How poetic. If he was in a writing mood he’d have some sort of poem commissioned just to display his own pride at finally killing a Grimm. He’d seen them on the day his village was burnt to the ground and encountered them along with his sister and father in their escape and subsequent wandering around the wilderness before finding the slums in which they lived but he’d never actually met one in combat. He’d always run away, been a coward. He couldn’t stomach fighting them. They scared him far too much for him to try anything aggressive. The claws, teeth and their beady eyes. Far too much for his nerves to handle. So he was almost surprised he dealt with the Beowolf so easily. Perhaps his time in combat school had eased his nerves towards them. After all his human opponents had been far more vicious and smarter too for that matter. Perhaps he’d gotten over his fears. Perhaps his fears had gotten weaker. Regardless as he readied himself to attack the last Grimm still standing he realised that he felt a certain sense of light excitement. He was happy. Not in the typical sense of the word as in the happiness you feel when opening a present or treating a beloved family member to dinner but the kind of happiness beasts feel when they crush something between their claws. It wasn’t exactly bloodlust but it most certainly wasn’t a simple sense of satisfaction. It was akin to...conqueror’s pride. A sense of ambition and satisfaction Arrats would make sure to fuel. His ally of convenience had been driven back by the speed at which the remaining creature had jumped forward to attack her. That was bad, he couldn’t lose someone he hadn’t even met yet. He let his palm hang down low to the ground absorbing some of the light from around him. If he could blind the Grimm for long enough he’d be able to give his ally a fighting chance.

So he began to run bring his blade forward to attack the beast. His speed while not the fastest was more than enough to catch up to that Grimm. Soon he was behind him and with the pride he was exuding the creature turned to face him, only to get caught in a blast of white light. It reeled, a roar bellowing out of it as it fumbled around for a target. It didn’t even notice the slender, serrated blade being thrust through it. It wasn’t enough to kill it, that would come momentarily. Jumping back to create distance the mechanical clicking sounds of the blade being retracted and the barrel of the rifle being brought forward echoed around the forest. It didn’t occur to the Grimm, who’s thought process was akin to that of a walnut attempting to figure out quantum theory that the barrel of said rifle was aiming directly at its eye. What a shame, Arrats thought. That such a creature of deadly skills and applicable speed was so very inadequate in its sense of direction once blinded. The firing was quick and very loud, with the echo of the connection between Grimm and Dust cartridge being instantly realised then, in a blink of an eye the connection faded and that creature that once scared him half to death in the ruined embers of his dying home had fallen to Arrat’s knees. Finished and spent.

Arrats smiled, though his arms ached from spending his aura to disorient the creature and his fingers burnt from the white knuckle gripped he’d held on his sword. His ally would’ve seen him sigh afterwards. That was tiring. He was tired. To his ally though, he raised a hand in greeting and a weak smile to go along with it.
“Ah, hello there. “
It was a simple informal sort of thing. Something to bring himself a measure of confidence. When he spoke eloquently it was to friends or people he knew decently well. It was how he spoke when he felt at home. When with people he didn’t know he resorted to something a little less his speed. Casual words and phrases that he picked up to introduce himself to people and make his odd nature something that could be eased into and not something to bluntly make people run away like his earlier days of childhood. He hoped this ally of convenience would assist him in his own goals too. So a good first impression was needed.
(929/ 1810)

[Slate Seraphine]

War upon stone and it grows weaker.
War upon man and he grows stronger.

Which shall your wall be built of?

❝

The new guy managed to jump the Beowolf from behind as it was trying to smash her face in - Slate pushed herself up and out with her arms, throwing herself a good few feet back with her feet splayed out behind her and already primed to launch herself forward, while her palms pressed into the dirt on either side for balance. Like the wolf she resembled, the Faunus kept herself low to the ground for the barest of moments, gathering power in her legs before she leapt again, ready to smash in what passed for a skull in that bag of walking smoke-

-only for the world to turn white.

The beginnings of a curse were just passing her lips when she tripped over her own feet, staggered, and tipped into the ground face first, a far cry from the controlled landing she'd managed earlier. That white light had seared itself on the back of her eyelids even when they were squeezed shut as she was doing now, scrambling around weakly in the debris of the forest floor as the roar of the Beowolf echoed around her, and Slate was convinced that this was how she would die. Not because she was beaten by something stronger, not because she was outsmarted and let her rage get control over her, but because some fucking numbskull with shit for brains decided to set off a flashbang in between the two of them without even a word of warning and sent her eyeballs to the shadow realm while she was in the middle of fighting.

The echoing of metal clicking and clacking against metal echoed off the trees, and then the sound of a single gunshot. When no further Grimm noises were reaching her ears, only the sound of sighing, she allowed herself to think that pushing herself upright into a sitting position wasn't going to get her head taken off by a swung claw, and did so. Though her vision was still mostly white when she opened her eyes, she could see a lack of movement, enough to figure out that there was no longer any fighting going on - and Grimm didn't sigh, as a rule, so it had to be the idiot who survived that fight.

Remaining where she was, the wolf Faunus was greeted by a hello from the still mostly unseen human male, and she turned her head in the direction that voice had come from. Her golden eyes, blank and unseeing, flickered over him without recognition, still unable to tell the difference between man and background.

"Hello?" she repeated quietly, incredulously, as if she hadn't heard it right the first time - and then she spat, away and into the ground, because of the grains of soil that had fallen from her lips into her mouth when she opened it. Bringing up her shoulder to her face, Slate rubbed at the debris that had been smushed into the skin of her forehead, cheeks, and lips when she'd been unceremoniously introduced to the ground midway through her leaping attack. While only mildly successful, a second pass with the same sleeve, and then another with the opposite one, removed enough of the pieces of dead leaves and soil for her to look like a person and not blend into the background.

"Hello?" she said, again, this time with barely repressed anger in her voice. Her vision had cleared enough by now to have things more or less a shaped blur, and color had returned to her sight, enough to see the roughly man shaped black and white form that was standing not too far from her and facing in her direction, with one hand raised as if in greeting.

For some reason, that only pissed her off even more.

"Hello?!"

The snarl came out in her words like the rasping of a rope against wood, as her tail started to flick agitatedly from side to side. The bastard didn't even know what he'd done. He was probably thinking to himself how good it was to perform a good deed, getting off to the idea of having saved a damsel in distress or some other fucked up shit. Birdbrained. Shortsighted. Cafone. Idiota. Figlio di puttana bastardo-

"STRONZO!" she bellowed, and chucked a blast of air in his direction.

The blast blew past him without getting anywhere near, scattering into harmless wisps once it was out of her range. She couldn't even see his stupid face, but right now, Slate Seraphine was sorely tempted to smear it all over the forest floor like hers had been. Struggling to her feet, the wolf Faunus stumbled and staggered once, her world swimming, but the anger at the sheer idiocy this fucking dumbass had inflicted upon her kept her going. The pain of the headache drumming against the inside of her skull like a tiny midget whose sole purpose was to turn her brain into mush, the scrapes and bruises from the fall she'd taken, her smarting eyes and inability to see anything beyond a few feet and even then in nothing other than vaguely shaped smears of color - all of it blended together into the venom that was spewing from her lips like water. A single hand shook in the air like a person hammering on an invisible door, the points of her fingers pressed together and jerking back and forth to accentuate every point.

"A COSA STAVI PENSADO?! SEI STUPIDO O COSA? COSA TI HA DATO LA BRILLANTE IDEA DI SCATENARE UN'ESPLOSIONE IN FACCIA? FOTTUTO ASINO! TESTA PIENA DI MERDA! FIGLIO SENZA CERVELLO DI UNA PUTTANA!"

No, Slate was not happy at all, and the other would rapidly be assured of that much, as well as in no uncertain terms about what she thought of his lacking brain, his questionable ancestry, and his lack of consideration for others, a seemingly short list that only grew by the second.

REPULSE (SEMBLANCE): [RANK E]

BURN IN: RAGE AGGRESSOR (STRENGTH) [RANK F]
BURN IN: EXPLODE ENGAGE (AGILITY) [RANK F]
BURN IN: INFERNO CRUSADER (DURABILITY) [RANK F]
BURN IN: AFTERBURNER (SPEED) [RANK F]

DETONATOR: IGNIS (WEAPON): [RANK F]

@ ● 984 words ● 984 total words

MADE BY MIZO

[Arrats Calanthe]

It was interesting to see such an aggressive action after helping Arrats helped his ally of convenience out such as he did. Though, given how his blinding effects mess with his allies if they are in the range of his semblance. Which unfortunately, she would have been. He could only imagine the blinding flashes she must be experiencing. It made him groan involuntarily. That must’ve been painful. Both in a psychical sense and a emotional sense. Perhaps he’d stolen her kill so to speak. Warrior’s pride certainly could be injured in that way. Though he did not want another introduction to fighting another aggressive student. He’d had more than enough of that with Brigit and as much as he enjoyed that fight he didn’t have a sparring ring here and this midterm at least for him required his cooperation with other students. Annoying as that may be for him. So, with that in mind he attempted to adjust his posture and look to at least look a little more friendly, perhaps more apologetic. Which involved him nervously tapping his hands together. He was in truth quite nervous. From his observation of his ally she seemed aggressive and very ready for combat that and angry. He wouldn’t put it past her to pummel him into the ground like she’d done with the Grimm around here.

Soon though she bellowed out a word he did not understand. Stronzo? Peculiar. From her way of speaking it it was clearly something angry. Most likely an insult. Arrats didn’t wish to speak just yet instead his hands moved back to his weapon at his hip. It was now back in his hip sheath as moments after he disengaged from the Grimm he slipped the weapon back into the matte black metal container. As a nervous habit he tapped his sheath or on occasion the hilt of his blade. Something he’d developed when he first got it from his sister: Jade.
Though soon his thoughts were interrupted by a blast of air. It blew past him, not hitting him of course but heading in his direction. Ah, so that was her semblance. Interesting. It was quite an interesting thing to see. Hmm, that would be an interesting use of stun effects. A blinding flash and then a push. That might be worth bringing up. Later though. He was now waiting for something to come from her. Something angry he would hazard to guess. He couldn’t blame her. He did something without considering the impact it may have had on her. He’d have to apologise it was only right really. Though honestly he did feel he’d at least helped somewhat but those feelings were most likely not the best to use them. Most of him felt sorry however. He didn’t mean to fire that flash in such a large area. He was simply not thinking. He wanted to assist his ally and so used his radiance to blind the Grimm and kill it. Arrats probably knocked her back into the ground Witt the flash. Arrats would have to apologise for that too. A lot of things he’d have to apologise for really.

Looking at her though. She seemed blisteringly angry. More frustrated than his father was when Arrats accidentally knocked over his vase. The purple haired boy grimaced. Bracing for something to fly at him or for her to attack him. Instead she seemed to simply grow more and more angry. Until something snapped and something pure came out. Pure anger was something he’d rarely seen. Only from his sister and his father. This woman was displaying it now. She swore like he’d never heard anyone swear before. The words he didn’t understand at all but he certainly understood that they were insults. The only words he could pick out were “Brillante”, which he could only assume means brilliant and “Idea” which was fairly simple. Perhaps she was saying what kind of brilliant idea he had? Fairly sarcastic he assumed. Anything else was simply gibberish to him. It was scary to think how much venom she spat out but eventually she stopped and Arrats took a moment to breathe in before he began to speak.
“Firstly, I’d like to apologise if my radiance hit your eyes as well. I didn’t mean to do so and it must have hurt your eyes and scuffed your outfit that must be troubling and I do apologise. Secondly I am to guess you were insulting me moments ago and if that was the case please, if you can speak in my language I’d appreciate it so I can react to it accordingly. Lastly I’d like to introduce myself more formally. Arrats Calanthe, terribly sorry again but it’s good to meet more students especially this early on.”
He put his hands together and bowed. His father told him to do this to apologise so he felt it fitting at least in a formal sense. Hopefully he’d be able to cooperate with this new ally after his apology. He needed to do become a better huntsman after all.
(845/2655)

[Jay]

XP Distribution:

Slate Seraphine: 9 x 200% (event bonus) = 18
133 + 18 = 151

Arrats Calanthe: 26 x 200% (event bonus) = 52
208 + 52 = 260