RISING DAWN (Reboot)
Prologue: The Things in the Woods
Description: Jaune Arc is trying to live up to his family's legacy. Jax and Gillian Asturias are trying to restore her Kingdom to what it once was, even if it's by force. Ruby Rose tries to become a hero like her mother, but begins to discover what she was truly involved in. Oscar Pine is wondering why he's having these strange dreams and who is calling out to him. Meanwhile, a game of chess is being played in the shadows, and it will decide the fate of the world…
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A convoy of Atlas soldiers, led by two of Beacon's professors, came through the town gates; however, there was no greeting for them. In fact, there wasn't any sort of noise at all, just silence that was as heavy as the stillness that settles over a funeral.
A man might have called it peace if he did not know better.
But in this town, there was no peace, just the aftermath of something horrifying.
Doors hung crooked on broken hinges, some splintered inward as if something had tried to claw its way through. Long scars marked the wood and climbed the walls of nearby houses, they were savage and deep, yet there were arrows buried in beams and shutters, sword-cuts etched into timber and stone, as well as bullet holes along some walls.
Blood had been spilled as well, as what remained of the people now were only dark stains that were baked into the earth and walls.
Man and beast had done this... Or something that wore the shape of both.
"By the Brothers..." Oobleck muttered as he stepped out of an Atlas transport truck.
Walking out just a few feet behind him was Professor Port, and he, too, was shocked by the sight before them. "Not a body," Port muttered, frowning. "Not one."
Oobleck gave a slow nod. "Yes, that troubles me more than if there were a hundred," he said. The doctor then turned and looked at the Atlas soldiers as they began filing out of their own vehicles. "Search every house, find me survivors if you can or something that tells us what happened here."
One by one, the soldiers began fanning out into the dead town, doing as Oobleck had ordered them to.
While the soldiers began prying open doors and vanishing into darkened households, Port lingered beside Oobleck at the edge of the town's square, where the wind whispered through broken shutters. They kept their distance from the rest so as not to let any of the other men overhear their conversation.
"You read the reports?" Port asked, his voice low.
Oobleck nodded his head, slow and measured. "I did."
"And you believe them?"
For a time, Oobleck said nothing, but his gaze wandered to the splintered door of a nearby house, tracing the deep, ragged gouges carved into the wood. He studied them like any mystery a Huntsmen came across.
Finally, he turned back to Port and shook his head. "No," he said. "I do not... You?"
Port's brow knotted, and he gave his friend a small shrug. "I've known frontier folk to see what they wish to, and swear that they saw it before gods and men alike," Port began. "You and I both know that fear makes people report the strangest things, so there must be some sense to it."
Oobleck's brow arched. "So you say, yet I know you, Peter, and that look upon your face," he began, gesturing at Port's face, "That is not the look of a man comforted by reason. What is it?"
Port drew a long breath through his nose, as if the air itself might steady him, then let it out slowly. "The marks, I've hunted many wild animals and Grimm alike. I've seen what teeth and claw can do, but these... The marks resemble Grimm and Human. Plus, there are arrows sticking out of the buildings, along with markings from bladed weapons and bullet holes from guns."
"Townsfolk defend themselves or maybe a group of bandits raiding the town during the attack." Oobleck said.
Port shook his head slowly. "The townsfolk were definitely defending themselves, but I don't think bandits attacked during the Grimm attack; neither side would survive... Also, there is something that is bothering me just like it bothered you.
Oobleck's brow rose again. "Hm?"
"Grimm don't eat everything, they at least leave things, such as bones, scraps, something... They do not carry off every corpse, not cleanly, not all at once... Here, there's but blood. no body or a single bone! That is what doesn't sit well with me," Port finished as his eyes swept the town again, as if hoping to prove himself wrong.
Oobleck nodded slowly, and understood and trusted Port's instincts. If Port said something was off with the scene, then something was. The Doctor had known the big man had spent half his life in the wilds, hunting both animal and Grimm before ever becoming a Huntsman.
He may be a teacher now, but the hunter had never quite left him.
"Professors!"
When they heard the shout, both men turned as one.
A young soldier came running up the street, a bundle clutched tight in one hand, and as he ran toward them, his boots slipped once on the dust and dried blood before he found his footing again. When he reached them, he bent over, dragging air into his lungs like a drowning man pulled from the river.
The soldier then straightened and looked at the two huntsmen. "We found this near the southern gate. There was a hand attached to it as well, severed and clutching it," He said, swallowing.
In his hand was a small book, most likely a journal. It was covered in dirt and had a few droplets of blood on its cover.
"Give it here," said Oobleck, holding his hand out.
The soldier passed it over quickly, as if glad to be rid of the thing, and once it was in Oobleck's hands, he opened it at once, eyes moving swiftly across the first page.
Port then looked at the young soldier. "Keep searching, please, young man," he told him.
"Aye, sir." The soldier nodded and hurried off, eager for distance.
When he was gone, Port looked back to his companion, one thick brow lifting. "Well?" he asked. "What does it say, Bart?"
Oobleck did not look up from the page. "It's a journal, from some of the details written down here, it belonged to one of the town guards."
Port shifted closer, curiosity gnawing at him as he looked over Oobleck's shoulder. "What does it say? He must've written something down that can help us."
Oobleck then suddenly began walking away from Port, but the larger man followed, and as Oobleck walked, he began to read aloud, loud enough for just each other to hear.
"No one is allowed into the forest anymore," Oobleck read. "We are all too afraid. Even the hunters won't go. 'Better to starve than face what waits beneath those trees.' one said after a bad hunt. When night falls, we see them. Yellow eyes in the dark. Watching. Always watching. Hungry. They don't look any Grimm eye's I've seen before."
Hearing that, both men's brow rose in confusion, wondering just what the guard mean when he wrote that down.
"We cannot see their shapes, they don't even have white bones masks like most Grimm... We only see the eyes staring back at us. They Move... They move like shadows given life."
The wind stirred as Oobleck turned the page and began reading the next one.
"The hunters said the woods were too quiet. No birds, no crickets, no sounds at all. Something has taken the forest. People are vanishing whenever they enter the forest, but no one sees how. They're simply gone."
Another page, and Oobleck's mouth tightened as his eyes moved faster now.
"Brothers preserve us, I saw them! I SAW THEM! I thought they were fairy tales to scare children, but they are real! Brothers! Seven! Any Gods that can hear me, have mercy! Please send as many huntsmen as you can! Seven Hells, call the Atlas Military! Let them see what's in the woods... Please... Let them come before it is too late!"
The words seemed to linger in the air long after he spoke them, as if the dead man's fear had weight enough to hang there.
Then, Oobleck turned toward the next page, and only a few words remained, scrawled in a hurried, trembling hand. The next passage sent a chill through his body, but he read it aloud, low and steady.
"Send Help! Ten went missing last night! Thirty of us left! Dead things in the woods! Dead things watching! SEND HELP!"
Once Oobleck had finished reading it, he closed the book with care, as though it might bite him if shut to fast, and then he stood there for a good long moment, rigid as a pole in the ground.
When Port saw him turn around to face him the larger man noticed there was something in his eyes that had not been there before.
Fear.
A chill crept through both men, and the hairs on their arms rose, and just a second later, they both felt it, that prickle at the back of the neck. It was that old and ancient warning that whispered into the very souls of men that someone... Or something was watching.
"This goes straight to Ozpin and James," Oobleck finally spoke. "Call the men back, we're leaving at once."
"Now?" Port frowned, glancing toward the scattered houses, the doors still yawning open like broken mouths. "What about-?"
"Peter... There are no survivors." Oobleck told him, his tone flat and true. "None."
Port looked at him for a bit, then gave a curt nod in response. Port yelled out that they were leaving, and the soldiers all quickly returned in twos and threes, some of their faces pale and some grim.
It wasn't long before they got back into their vehicles and drove back out of that place, not daring to even glance back. As they left, Oobleck had the little book clutched tight against his chest, like a mother would hold her baby, though what he carried was no innocent life...
But a warning.
