Fenn’s lips pulled back, displaying his teeth at the change in the little lord’s disposition. He had recognized the bird from their previous assault on an angel stronghold, though at that time the angel had only managed to deliver a warning threat before he was led away by a certain witch that had been following him and the imp.
Whether this change in attitude had been borne of recognition or from pride, the disdain Fenn felt in the words would have been enough for him to jump at the angel’s throat in different circumstances. It was because circumstances were as they were that his irritation at the little lord’s threat was overshadowed by his amazement of the angel’s short-sightedness, and his disappointment for the Nephilim half-breed for throwing his lot with them.
“Your master is a damned fool,” the hound growled, addressing the angel champion flanking the smaller one. “You should stab his head on a pike, before he visits that fate on the lot of you.”
“Watch your tongue, mutt,” he answered. “You are not being spoken to.”
The hound snorted rudely, returning his attention to the little lord. “You were not present for the sundering of the first seal, where in their zealousness to prevent its destruction, two groups sharing the same goals confronted each other in a meaningless battle and furnished the enemy with the tools they required for its destruction. And now, because we refuse to repeat the latter mistake, you wish to pursue the former?” Even through the hound’s lupine features, his disgust at the smaller angel was palpable. His eyes turned to regard Lily and he commented, loud enough for all to hear. “It would seem we must trade one mistake for another, Imp. Mayhaps we would be better served by leaving and allowing these fools to do as they please. Perhaps then they shall have none to blame but themselves for their failings.”
“Now, now, Fenn. Let us not be hasty,” Lily chimed in with a chilly smile. She stepped into his periphery, eyeing him shortly before turning her attention to the angel, smile vanishing. “I do not appreciate you threatening those I care for, Kushiel. Not now. Not ever, especially not when there are far bigger fish out there than you or I.” Her brows furrowed and she took half a step forward, just enough to put herself in between her companions and Kushiel. ”Sevrin is out there. He destroyed the first Seal, stole the Yamato, and he is on his way here.
“The snake has been here. We had best hope he has not left.”
Lily ignored Fenn save a brief glance, letting him know that she knew. “If you are still incapable of thinking past your own ego and insist on attacking us, then I will gladly kill every single one of you to keep your war from engulfing this realm.”
She raised her hand and the air started to shift and shimmer as if heating up. A crack split the silence following her words, a long, black spear, cracked with crimson lines from butt to the dark-metal blade materialized in her hand. She slammed the weapon into the ground hard enough to crack the stone underneath. “Our job is to stop him from destroying the seal, and I will do anything to stop that from happening. So I give you this, Kushiel. Leave your petty animosity by the wayside and help us find Sevrin. Or don’t, let him destroy the seal, and come one step closer to see everything we’ve all worked for come undone.”
Not long after she had taken her seats, the rest of the students began to file into the classroom. Sand gave them curious, cursory glances as they passed by the door until one of them met her eyes and began walking in her direction.
She straightened herself from her slouch as one of the few people she was acquainted with in Beacon approached her. Trad leaned himself against the barbell behind her, looking for all intents and purposes like he had just come from running a marathon.
“Need a spotter?”
After a moment of looking pensively at the weights, Sand shrugged. “Maybe in a minute,” she answered seriously to Trad’s teasing tone, pausing to take in his disheveled state. He must have seen the question in her eyes, for he quickly produced an explanation.
“A Dioanea,” she repeated. She knew of the monster, but had never had a chance to see one in person. Dryly, she added, “That is a Reisen. It’s reassuring to know Grimm Studies professors are unreasonable no matter the continent.”
She thought she had heard the other students mention the Grimm in passing, and even though the more rational side of her felt a measure of relief that she had been spared from facing a Reisen on her first day of class since transferring, Sand found herself wishing she had not been delayed that morning. An encounter against a giant Grimm would have been a prime opportunity to stretch her limbs and see what was expected of Beacon students in her year. The thought only grew stronger when Trad mentioned how he and Robert had struggled with the beast.
For all the talk of impromptu decapitation Trad seemed no worse for the wear where it counted, but Robert was not around for her to examine. With the redhead’s track record in mind, a thought occurred to her. Could it be that he’s not here because…
Trad’s second question headed her off, and she found herself mildly irritated by the memory of the last few hours. In all honesty, her morning had been a bore and was completely unworthy of discussion.
“Something like that. I don’t think I’ll be missing any more classes because of it, at least,” she assured. Sand waved a hand dismissively, not wanting to bore someone else with the details of her enrollment and continued, her mind coming back to her previous concern. “On the topic of classes, where are the others? Don’t tell me Robert managed to land himself in the infirmary again.”
Sand slowed as she neared what she thought was the PE classroom. She produced her Scroll in one hand, ensuring that the room number above the door was the same as the one marked in her schedule, and leaned in past the frame. Her peeking revealed the training equipment she had been expecting, along with a few students already inside, but no professor.
She supposed that was good. Must have meant she was not late, and she’d have some time to herself before the class started.
Readjusting the strap on her duffel bag, she strode into the room, beelining towards one of the empty benches. She took her seat there, setting her bag down next to herself. Seeing as she had missed the Grimm Studies class, some of the bulk inside like the extra change of clothes she had packed would likely go unused, but that detail was hardly worth thinking about at that point.
Instead, she glanced at the other students in the room, listening to the few snippets of their conversation that reached her. Seeing them together, she found herself wondering if any of her teammates was enrolled in this class.
She frowned slightly.
Perhaps I should have made more of an effort to learn their schedules. Sharing class could have been a good excuse to learn more about them. Or everyone could focus on their own tasks and not share a word. Hard to say without knowing how the class is taught.
Sand hummed and gave the barbell behind her a searching glance, wondering if she should simply start training on her own while she waited, but quickly discarded the idea. She was not so terribly impatient that she could not wait a few minutes for their professor.
Instead, she leaned forwards, resting her arms against her knees in a relaxed posture while she continued to idly eavesdrop on the other students.
Well, it's not a particularly silly or creative change, but I've had this other version of my character in my head for a while now, so let me cobble up a quick bio.
Name: Sand Vespa Age: 19 Gender: Female Race: Human Appearance: Sand stands at 5’9’’, with a lean body maintained largely through work. This is particularly apparent when one looks at the muscles on her arms. Her skin has a dark, bronze hue, complimented by her inky black hair. She typically wears her hair pulled back into a small, messy pony tail, but when letting it down, Sand often parts it at the center, letting the slick, shoulder length locks frame the sides of her face. Her narrow, coffee colored eyes would give her a permanently tired, displeased expression were it not for the remnants of baby fat that soften her features.
When at work, it is not rare to see her wearing dark overalls over a gray T-shirt a size too big for her, but When not on duty, she typically favors jeans and shirts with subdued colors such as gray or dull greens.
Weapon: Sand is not a combatant in any real sense of the word, and so she does not own weapons in the same sense as Huntsmen and Huntresses. That said, if asked about her weapons, her mind would typically go to the tools of her trade. Woe be to whoever angers her while she’s working with a wrench.
Semblance: Sand has never been trained to fight or use her aura, and as such, whatever Semblance she might possess is a mystery to her. However, she takes great pride in her driving skills, to the point where she has been known to handle any vehicle she has sat in like a professional only minutes after seeing the controls.
A friend of the neighborhood calls this her Riding A skill, but refuses to explain the joke when asked.
Personality: Sand has a largely introverted personality, shunning crowds in favor of solitude or small gatherings. Small talk is not her forte, and she is more than willing to let other people carry out the conversation for her, only letting out short questions or hums indicating the other may continue when it is appropriate of her. The more people join the conversation, the more content she is to sit back and listen. This, combined with interests that often made her the odd one out compared to other girls in her age bracket, made it so that while growing up she cultivated some polite, cordial relationships but very few close, lasting friendships.
That said, people she is comfortable with often know her as a sarcastic woman with a penchant for theatrics. Those who manage to fluster her are often treated to a brusque, stand-offish personality that is a far cry from the usually calm and collected Sand.
History:
Sand was the single daughter of a family of Hunters with roots in Vacuo. Both her parents were born and trained in the desert kingdom, working as Hunters in the same team until Sand was conceived. Soon after learning about the incoming baby, the pair moved to Vale and retired from active duty to take care of their daughter. For a time, they enrolled in a nearby Combat School as instructors.
As can be expected, Sand’s recollections of that time are hazy at best, though to her combined amusement and bafflement, she recalls being infuriatingly fussy, stubborn and capricious when she was little.
When Sand was around 5 years old, her parents made the decision to return to their duties as Huntsmen, and would often leave Sand under the care of a friend of the family who worked as a car mechanic while they were gone. One year later, catastrophe struck. An accident befell a team of hunters out in the field. Sand’s parents numbered among the casualties. She remembers a lot of crying, and disbelief at the idea that her parents would not return to her.
It was later discovered that her parents, knowing the dangers of their profession, had drafted a will leaving all their possessions to her. Since neither her father nor mother had any family in Vale, the mechanic, whose name was Allen, was nominated as her legal guardian.
Allen provided her with a home and, once Sand began to recover from the shock of her loss, a surrogate father figure. Soon enough, she began taking interest in the things he did, and the man was eager to show her some tricks of the trade. However, the man had no significant other at that point in life, meaning that he had to take on both the role of a mother and father in Sand’s eyes. Later, once Sand was older, he told her that one of his worries while raising her was the fact that she only had men around her at home while growing up.
As she grew up, Sand toyed with the idea of joining a combat school and following in her late parents’ footsteps. It was Allen’s warnings, as well as her intimate knowledge of what end would most likely await her if she followed that path, that ultimately dissuaded her. Instead, she received a common education, with additional instruction from Allen when she told him she wanted to learn more about his business.
Once she graduated, she continued working in the repair shop as his apprentice.
I also wrote a little one-off with the character a few days ago after the contest idea came up in discord, so I might as well leave it here.
“You could help me, you know.”
Sounds of metal clicking and clattering occasionally rose came from under the car, occasionally interrupted by a feminine voice.
The other occupant in the room hummed as if in agreement, but he made no move to rise from his chair, engrossed as must have been by that day’s newspaper.
“You told Mr. Akers we’d have his car fixed by this afternoon, but it’s me who’s been slaving away under the damned thing for the whole weekend.”
There was a sound of shifting paper, signaling that the man’s reading material had been put down, and his voice reached under the car. “It took you longer than I expected, honestly. And here I thought I’d taught you better.”
The woman under the vehicle grunted and shifted, sliding her way out and sitting up. Sand’s coffee colored eyes met the man sitting by the wall. He was pale and heavy-set, his ginger-colored hair and beard streaked throughout by gray strands.
“You didn’t even look at this mess before you foisted it on me,” she groused, wiping her hands on the pants of her dark overalls before wiping the sweat on her brow with the back of her hand. The way the corner of Allen’s lips twitched as he looked at her told her she must have been sporting a dark streak on her forehead at that point. She sniffed and glanced at the newspaper resting atop the nearby tool bench. “Anything interesting in there?”
“I was looking at a recent article. Apparently, a team of students from Beacon Academy ran into trouble in a mission.”
“Trouble?” she prodded out of habit, letting the man carry the conversation. Truth be told, she was not terribly interested in the topic. Speaking of Huntsmen and Grimm tended to leave her in a foul mood, after all. Perhaps more now than it had some years ago, when she had seriously considered training as a Huntress herself.
“One dead, another in critical condition.”
“You reap what you sow,” she said. What other end could people in that profession expect, after all? This was something she knew well. Nonetheless, Sand winced inwardly when she replayed the words in her mind. She ignored the pointed look Allen was throwing her way as she stood. “Car should be fine now,” she told him.
“Great.” A pleased smile replaced the man’s frown, and he pulled a key from his pocket. “We’re cutting it close, but we should probably give it a test ride.”
“You mean I should give it a test ride,” she corrected him, putting on airs of offense as she took the key from him. Even though they both knew she would have it no other way after taking the order by herself. Not to mention that the man’s driving was apt to leave the vehicle in a worse condition than when it had been handed to them.
“If you insist,” he said with a wry smile. “But don’t take too long. Akers will be back in a couple of hours.”
She did not leave immediately, first taking a chance to wash her hands and face and to exchange her dirty overalls with a pair of jeans, but soon enough she was driving down the streets of Vale.
Though at first she remained close to the shop, running the usual circuit around the block in case the thing somehow broke down and she was forced to push it, she quickly gained in confidence. The car took her direction well, the breaks responding with no issues and the clattering noises that had come from under the hood when they had first received the vehicle all but gone.
Sand took a moment to adjust the rear-view mirror, her gaze lingering on the black hair she had tied into a simple tail. A few years ago, she had taken to dying it blonde, liking the contrast it created against her darker skin, but since she had begun regularly working in the repair shop, the frequency with which she needed to wash her hair simply to get the scent of exhaust and grease off it had made dying it too much of a hassle. Even then her hair had acquired an oily slickness, making it seem as though it was permanently wet.
Luckily, the purring of the engine was enough to ease her slight irritation. Letting out a pleased hum, she turned on the following street, driving further away. She still had time before the owner of the car would pick it up. It was largely an excuse to while some time away in the unfamiliar vehicle, but she thought it would be a good chance to get some groceries while she was at it.
The market she chose was farther than the one she usually frequented, but then again, reaching her destination had not really been the point of the journey. Even then the drive felt much too short as she pulled over on the opposite side of the street.
Sand straightened on her seat, engaging the handbrake and turning off the ignition, but just as she was about to take the keys, when a sound like thunder swept past the closed windows. She froze, looking at the building she had parked in front of. She saw a bank, as she knew she would. Part of the reason she sometimes went to this marketplace was that there were readily available ATMs right on the other side of the street, but it wasn’t these that had drawn her attention.
Inside, she could see people in suits moving about. Masked people, with carrying duffle bags and holding something dark and squarish in their free hands. Alarm bells going off in her mind, Sand lowered her head so she could not be easily seen from the car windows. She swore under her breath. A damned bank robbery. Of all things, she’d somehow parked next to a bank robbery. What was she supposed to do? In the background, she heard a car start up and drive past her, and what a smart choice that was.
Do I just leave? She could do it. No one had seen her, and she hadn’t seen anything that would make the robbers go after her. The thought sparked a seed of self-loathing inside her. Some Huntress I would have made, she told herself bitterly, but the thought brought something else to mind.
Struggling to keep her hands from shaking, she pulled out her scroll and dialed a number. When the other side picked up, she didn’t bother waiting to be greeted before she spoke into the device. “I ran into a bank robbery.”
“Could you repeat that, Ma’am?”
She had to keep herself from snapping at the phone. Instead, she explained “I parked in front of a bank, and saw people with guns. The address is— ” When she looked up to see the building number, she saw three men running out of the bank, duffel bags filled to the brim in their hands and what must have been halloween skull masks covering their faces.
“Where the hell’s Ronald!?” one of them shouted. Sand swore, putting her phone back into her jeans’ pockets.
The sound of police sirens began filtering into her ears. It seemed an alarm had been tripped, or someone had already notified the authorities. I should’ve just left, dammit!
“Idiot probably heard the shots and bolted. I told you we shouldn’t have brought him along!”
Sand belatedly realized that the car she had heard leaving a few moments ago must have been this crew’s getaway driver leaving the scene. She did not have a lot of time to think about it before one of the men his face towards her. She did not need to see his eyes through the mask to know he was looking straight at her.
“You!”
“Nononono…” she mouthed, the car’s engine coming to life as she twisted the ignition, but before she had a chance to flee, the man had reached the window on the passenger’s side and slammed his weapon against it.
The window burst open, making her wince, and the man pointed the pistol at her. “Hands in the air, lady.”
Sand obliged, finding she had no desire to get shot in that particular day. She looked at the barrel of the weapon with wide eyes, realizing that it had never crossed her mind that she might one day end up on the business end of a firearm. The sirens sounded a lot closer now, though she wasn’t sure that was because she about to be saved or because the window was gone.
“Good. Now get out and leave the keys. We’re taking the car.”
Of course they’re taking the car. Why else did I spend my week fixing it than to have it become the get-away car of a bank robbery!? her thoughts fumed, but her now openly shaking hands went to work on the seatbelt. Extremely clumsily. Her fingers kept slipping when she pushed on the release.
“Hurry up!” The man crowding her with the pistol urged.
“I’m trying, dammit!” Her frustration momentarily overriding her fear as she failed to release the damned strap. Is it stuck? The thing’s supposed to keep me alive, not get me killed!
“Dude, just shoot her!” the second man called. “We don’t have time for this!”
“And make things even worse for ourselves?” the third one shouted back.
The first one hanged his head, giving Sand the distinct impression that his eyes were closed in thought. A moment later, he unlocked the front door and forced his way into the passenger seat. “Alright. You drive.”
Sand was too shocked to register the other two men breaking into the back seats. “W-what!?”
“Either you drive, or I shoot you and take the car! Now go!”
Sand sent a pleading look at the rearview mirror, seeing the red and blue lights beginning to peak around the corner, but the black cylinder pressed against her cheek proved to be a superb motivator.
Her right hand left the belt and removed the handbrake before settling over the stick and pushing it to ‘drive’. A part of her mind groaned at the fact that she had been stuck in this situation with an automatic. She let out a slight chuckle as the absurdity of the thought caught up to her.
“What are you laughing at?”
“It’s either that or crying.”
Then, as if something had taken over her, she floored the pedal.
The car shot forward and away from the curb just as police cars began to file into her mirrors, the light dancing irritatingly over her eyes. She pushed the discomfort away, understanding she could not dwell on the feelings while she had a gun pointed at her.
A siren rang from the upcoming intersection and she was forced to swerve violently as a police car suddenly appeared from her left. Her car skidded, nearly sending her crashing against the red light at the corner, but a violent wrench of the wheel straightened them out. In her rearview mirror, she could see the car join the horde of pursuers on her tail. She felt a sinking pit on her stomach and forced herself to look ahead.
After flooring the pedal for a few blocks, even bringing the car up to the sidewalk at times to get past busy intersections, she realized she was not making a dent in her pursuers’ numbers. Even when she left some behind, others kept streaming in through side streets.
I’m not outrunning them in a straight race, and it’s only a matter of time before they trap me. she realized after a moment. It left her with only a handful of options she would much rather have ignored.
Instead, in the next intersection, she turned towards the incoming cars. The other occupants let out a surprised cry as she narrowly avoided an incoming truck, dodging past the incoming vehicles with a manic gleam in her eyes. She barely registered the sounds of frightened honking and screeching wheels around her as she tried to maneuver her way out of sight of the police.
“Holy hell! Mark! Get her under control!”
“Shut up!” the man next to her screamed to the back, before turning to her. “What the hell are you doing!?”
“What you told me to!” she snarled back in a tone somewhere between fury and panic. Her eyes narrowed as she caught more patrols heading directly in her direction. “Belts!”
“What?”
“Belts!” she shouted again, taking a sharp turn into an alley. The man next to her slammed against the side of his door, his mask coming loose and flying out the window. Trash bags exploded as she charged past, and she turned on the wipers to deal with the banana peels and dirty diapers that momentarily obscured her view past the windshields.
It was a good thing she knew this area as well as she did, or she would have been surprised when the alley ended in a small series of steps. The car soared for a moment, a loud yelp coming from the back seat as they hit the ground with a loud crash that shook the vehicle’s interior.
Another violent wrench of the wheel set them straight on the street’s path and Sand sped off in the direction she thought she did not hear sirens. Slowly, as the sound of their pursuers began to recede into the distance and no more flashing red and blue lights made themselves known, she began to slow the vehicle, trying to blend in with the other drivers. It was a difficult thing to do, with her heart beating at her throat and adrenaline pumping through her.
Eventually, either through skill or by sheer, amazing luck, the sounds of sirens bled away entirely into the distance.
Sand let out a trembling breath, tension leaving her body as she realized she was somehow in the clear. Behind her, the people in the back seats let out a cheer, coming to the same realization she had. The one next to her, however, leaned closer.
“The overpass right there,” he said, pointing at an empty lot where the columns for the highway stood, casting shadows over it. Rather than look at it, however, she studied the man’s face. His features were sharp and clean-shaven, his skin pale, and his hair a frizzy and short. He couldn’t have been much older than herself.
His mask was gone. It happened during the chase, right? It was difficult to recall the details of what had happened inside the car at that time, so focused had she been on the road, but she had a distinct impression that it had flown out the window at some point.
“Park us over there.” She was suddenly very aware that the man was still holding onto his gun.
Sand followed his instructions, leaving them in the desolated shadow of the overpass, away from prying eyes. The moment she stopped the car, the two on the backseat exited. “Out of the car,” said the one next to her, before he unlatched her seatbelt for her.
No excuses now, huh.
She slowly stepped out, lifting her hands over her head. The unmasked robber stepped out from his side, closing the door with an air of finality. Walking over to her side, he pushed her away from the vehicle until she had been cornered against a column. The others followed, leaving Sand to keenly feel the stares the three criminals were levelling her way.
Criminals. As if I didn’t just play the get-away driver.
“What do we do with her?” spoke one of them. Sand thought she recognized his voice as the one that had suggested they shoot her when the whole mess had started.
“Can’t we just let her go?” said another, nervously.
“Easy for you to say. She didn’t see your face or hear your name. If I get picked out because of this one I’m snitching on all of you.”
“I guess we kill her, then.”
“K-kill me?” She hated herself for the tremor that slipped into her voice, but she did not like the way things were going. She needed to get a word in edge-wise. “I was your get-away. Least I deserve is a c-cut.”
“A cut?” the first one laughed. “Listen to this one!”
The unmasked man shook his head. “Sorry, lady. No reason to trust you.”
“Hold on,” she insisted, trying to make a placating gesture even with her hands above her head. Her eyes shifting nervously from the two skulls to the scowling face of the one she had started to think of as their ringleader. “Let’s talk it out. Robbing a bank is one thing, but if a body shows up, things won’t get any easier for you.”
“She’s right!” said one of the skulls. “We can’t just off her!”
The other skull turned to his twin. “What do you suggest we do, then? God, you’re such a chickenshit. Why’d we even bring you?”
As the bickering continued, none of the robbers noticed the shadow that dropped in behind them from above the overpass. The ringleader, however, noticed Sand’s gaze lingering past his shoulder, and turned.
By then, it was too late. Something metallic struck the heads of the skulls like a club. The ringleader had barely started to raise his weapon when the shadow stepped up to him and struck his gut. The man fell to his knees. A vicious kick to the face sent him sprawling, unconscious.
It had happened so fast, she feared she would have missed it had she blinked.
Sand gaped at her would be rescuer. The man was a little taller than her, wearing a trench coat and what looked like a cowboy hat. But rather than his attire, what truly drew her eyes were the weapons in his hands, what she had first taken to be clubs. Long, squarish pistols much larger than the one that had been shoved in his face were held in a sure, practiced grip. These were clearly meant for larger prey, she realized. She’d run into a Huntsman.
“So, you’re the driver, huh?”
It took her a moment for what he had said to register, but when it did, she lowered her hands. “You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.”
“You mean you didn’t try to lose a group of police patrols, swerved into oncoming traffic, and caused multiple accidents Malcolm Avenue?”
“I…” Yes. As a matter of fact, yes she had. “What was I supposed to do?” she asked, growing increasingly frustrated. “They held me at gunpoint!”
“I know.”
She paused. “You do?”
“Check your scroll,” the man drawled. “How’d you think I found you?”
Sand frowned and produced the device from her pants. Belatedly, she realized that her call to emergency services was still connected. Whoever was on the other side must have been able to hear at least some of what had happened. Not to mention they could have tracked her. Slipping away felt too easy. Maybe the patrols backed off so that I’d stop somewhere.
Sand rubbed at her temple, trying to whittle away at the headache she knew was coming. Glancing to the side, she gave the car she had driven a forlorn look. She had just finished fixing it that morning, and now there were large dents on the sides to go with a missing window. She doubted the owner would understand if she told him the car had been a part of a police chase.
The sad part was that that was likely the least of her worries.
“So? What now?” she asked drearily.
“Honestly? You’re lucky to be alive, kid, but I’m afraid I still have to bring you in.”
@Lugubrious Hopefully we’ll still be able to carry this to its conclusion in the end.
I have a chunk of a post written, but not enough to actually put it up. Homework and procrastination are eating into my writing time (and I realize how ironic that is when I keep asking you to play MH with me). I’ll see if I can write some more before the end of the weekend, but I doubt the post will be complete by then.
Appearance of Weapon: A pair of metal Tomahawks. The handles are long, rust-colored cylinders with spiraling grooves running from the center to the pommel to delimit the grip. Multiple indentations can be seen where the components are supposed to fold or shift. The head of the axe has the typical, outwards projecting edge, made almost twice as large as the usual tomahawks to account for larger enemies, and a smaller, knife-like spike at its back. The blades are carbon colored, and one of the axes has a small, four-pointed star symbol etched in white on the back-spike.
The two can be combined to form a hunting rifle by striking the pommels together. The blade of the front axe will roll from its position at the head of the weapon, revealing a barrel, and will split into sections of metal to form a squarish casing down its length. The second axe-head will unfold and become the stock, and the handle will unfold to present a handle, trigger and iron sights.
When not in use, the blades recede, allowing the weapon to be stored as a pair of short batons.
Name of Weapon: Twin Branch Type of Weapon: Twin Tomahawks/Hunting Rifle Description: The functioning of this weapon is at its simplest when in the form of a rifle. It is a semiautomatic weapon with decent range and power, and as many firearms can be loaded with Dust ammunition for specific effects such as flaming, explosive, piercing or freezing rounds. However, this mode exists more for the sake of practicality and rounding out this weapon than to present innovative design.
Its main functionality comes from its use as a pair of tomahawks. Through special techniques using Dust in the weapons’ smithing, the twin hand axes have the interesting ability to resonate and attract themselves to each other in specific circumstances. This allows for a fighter to toss the tomahawk as a boomerang, and, in the cases of particularly skilled warriors, to wield the second tomahawk using only their movements with one axe and the magnetism drawing the second closer. This effect has no specified range, seeming to work regardless of distance immediately upon activation. Originally, this effect was triggered when a person channeled their aura through either axe, but after testing in their prototype stage where another user was able to catch the axe and use this property against the original wielder, the design was changed so that only one of the axes was able to trigger this attractive property. This main axe was marked with a star symbol leading the designer to dub this axe ‘Big Brother’ and its twin ‘Little Brother’. This means that the wielder may only use the unmarked axe as a throwing weapon, and must use the marked weapon to regulate the weapon’s magnetic characteristic.
Additionally, loading dust ammunition into the main axe and activating the resonance properties of the weapon, specific attributes can be given bestowed upon it. As an example, earth dust can make the tomahawk’s heavier after being thrown, allowing one to throw a very dense projectile at high speeds with one’s bare hands.
Appearance of Weapon: For the stylish duelist, the rapier has ever been the weapon of choice. The main weapon for this ensemble is a long, straight rapier, the blade showing thin, triangular grooves at its sides placed equidistantly every few inches. The handle is wrapped in dark leather, and protected by a long cross-guard with a cup hilt. The weapon is largely designed for thrusting.
It is accompanied by a parrying Dagger. A thick, heavy knife, half as long as its partner sword and its blade serrated at the front to snag enemy weapons and thick and blunt at the back. The hilt extends upwards, reaching halfway into the blade, and beyond this point the weapon becomes tapered, as if segmented. A classic swordbreaker, this weapon is intended for blocking and thrusting over cutting.
Name of Weapon: Stinger Type of Weapon: Rapier & Parrying Dagger Description: This weapon’s main advantage lies in its deceptive range. In the blink of an eye, the rapier can be extended to a length three times its normal size, the true length of the blade sliding from the grooves down its length. Since this length is unwieldy during a normal fight, the blade can be extended and retracted at will to allow for longer thrusts. This extending mechanism is also tied to the activation of an electric dust canister stored in the handle. Being struck by the blade while it is extended will deliver a shock to the affected target, earning the weapon its name.
The parrying dagger that accompanies this weapon has no special attributes when in that state. However, the weapon can transform into a thick pistol, the blade shifting along the guard to set itself horizontally to the handle. The tapered blade then retracts down to its center and slides outwards, revealing a square barrel at the end of the hilt’s extension while forming a bladed ring around the hand of the wielder that can be used as a cutting edge.
In the hallways of Beacon Academy as students began to file out of their classrooms, Sand slowed her brisk walk to pull out her Scroll. Her eyes scanned the time reported by the clock at the top and she let out an irritated sigh. Grimm studies was clearly a lost cause. She was much too late.
The new transfer training stepped off to the side, leaning against a wall to let people walk past. She had spent much of the day settling in and dealing with administrative troubles with the school’s registrar. She would have taken care of it the day before, but the parent’s day celebration had meant most of the offices had closed for the day. Now that she had taken the time to visit them, she realized that appearing in the school a week earlier than intended had caused its own share of problems.
That said, if she was being honest with herself, scheduling issues were only a mild irritation. What truly weighed on her mind was the news that she had received yesterday. After Robert had been relieved from his duties as team leader, she had been appointed in his place as leader of team STRG—team Sterling.
Another student may have heard this and felt pride, thinking their achievements had been noticed and they were being rewarded.
In her case, the circumstances behind the announcement left a bitter taste in her mouth. She had been brought into the team as a convenient replacement for a casualty, then chosen over two existing team members to lead them, despite being the newest member and having no previous experience as team leader. Had her unplanned role in their mission left such an impression? What had the headmaster been thinking?
What was I thinking when I agreed? That was not terribly difficult to answer. At the time she had been shocked, confused and, she had to reluctantly admit, a little flattered.
Now, however, as she thought of the responsibility she had agreed to bear and of the idea of leading a team with a recorded mortality rate, she found a knot of concern forming in her gut. What did the others think of her taking that position?
Robert was easier to read. Once it had become clear that he would not be getting immediately expelled, he had seemed almost relieved by the news. She had more difficulty gauging the reactions of the other two. From what she had seen, she did not think Trad would give her trouble. Grane worried her, however. It had been clear since they had met in the forest that he was adamantly against Robert holding the position of leader, but whether this was due to personal disapproval of the redhead, or a wish to hold that position for himself, she was not yet sure. Having said that, she thought it safe to assume he would be watching her for any mistakes she might make.
As she absentmindedly looked at the thinning herd of students walking by, it occurred to her that she would have to get to know each of them better. In and of itself, it did not seem terribly difficult. However, Sand was aware that she was not the greatest conversationalist. Answering questions about herself had always been a lot simpler than coming up with questions about the particulars of another person’s life. It simply was not something that often interested her. To make matters worse, small talk did not come easily to her unless the other person spoke enough for the both of them, and something told her that would not be the case for at least two of her teammates.
Which meant it could be better to find an approach that suited her.
Sand exhaled and pushed herself away from the wall, now searching for the PE room. She had a few ideas, but nothing concrete. For the time being, class beckoned.
kapuchu