(See the end of the chapter for notes .)

Chapter Text

Shroud stares at the departing airship for several long moments trying to determine its trajectory. It seems to be heading towards the town near the mine entrance, so the remainder of the party decide to return.

They encounter a few harried White Fang grunts scuttling around the mine. A few good Bluffs from Shroud send most of them packing without a fight, and a few solid strikes from Ember leave the rest unconscious. Once they emerge from the mine, Shroud sets out to scout for dangers in the forest. There are a few grimm that appear to be heading in the same direction, but they seem disinclined to attack the party. One particularly large bear grimm, however, wanders too close...

Velvet dropped an ursa major miniature on the map, right next to Ember’s rearguard position. “It gets a surprise attack on Ember, snarling as it swipes at her head.”

Yang’s gaze bored into Velvet. “Did it damage my hair?”

The DM blinked.

“Did. It. Damage. My. Hair.”

Velvet frowned in confusion as she rolled a d20. “Yes, it did.” A d6 clattered, too. “Four strands float to the ground.”

“You... you monster!” roars the monk as she goes berserk.

“O-okay,” began Velvet, “the rest of you, please roll initiative.”

“Nah,” Blake waved her hand dismissively.

“No?” the DM was unsure about what was going on.

Weiss confirmed with a slight shake of her head. “We’ll just watch the bloodbath from a safe distance.”

Ruby scooped out a generous pile of popcorn before passing the tub to Weiss. “Can’t miss the show!” she chirped as she dug in with gusto.

Ember throws herself at the giant ursa, getting in three solid blows before it can blink. Myrtle and Shroud wince at the sickening crack of the monster’s jawbone. It swipes a second time at the monk, who backflips out of the way before closing distance again.

Yang looked down at the three d20s she had rolled with a “Huh.”

Velvet took a peek at the dice—two 20s and a 19—as she leaned over to place a few additional grimm miniatures on the map.

“Can I rip the thing’s jaw off and hit the rest of them with it?” Yang asked with a wild look in her eyes.

Velvet considered it for a moment. “You know what, sure.”

Weiss blinked. “She’s supposed to fight unarmed, though, right?”

“Yeah, but if you pass me the popcorn, I’ll allow it.” Velvet shrugged as she grinned at Yang. “This is getting pretty good.”

Ember rips the lower jaw off the ursa major and cackles with bloodlust as its bellow of pain fades into a lingering death rattle, then turns to the rest of the advancing grimm, eyes red with rage. “What! You want some, too?!” she demands, stalking towards them, mandible in hand.

The first goes down with a tiny whimper, the teeth attached to the improvised weapon gouging half of its face to ribbons. The second visibly distorts in size before exploding, sending bits of grimm across the battlefield.

Shroud and Myrtle easily side-step the flying viscera, but the last monster isn’t so lucky and is impaled by an armor spike.

Ember walks up to it and gives it a good kick, removing its head.

“Yang?” Ruby ventured, drawing her sister’s attention, who had gotten to her feet at some point during her elaborate and colorful description of how she killed the grimm. “I think it’s dead.”

“Nobody touches my hair,” Yang growled, stealing some popcorn from Velvet and settling back into her seat. “Anyway. What’s next?” she asked brightly, as if her character weren’t covered in blood and gore.

“And how exactly does that qualify as something a lawful neutral character would do?” Velvet inquired, mostly curious as to how Yang would justify it.

She tossed a piece of popcorn into the air, catching it in her mouth. “Personal code says no one touches my hair or they die. Plus, Samson did the exact same thing and he’s a judge. He’s full of law!”

When they reach the settlement, the small town center is mostly in shambles. Amidst the wreckage stands a tall swordsman with horns protruding above his decorated White Fang half-mask. He leans over a fallen militiaman and his blood-red katana is raised for a coup de grâce.

Shroud leaps in to intervene, her weapon drawn.

Letting the hapless militiaman scramble away to safety, the swordsman turns towards the intruder. “Hello, my darling,” he drawls.

Blake’s look of suspicion instantly contorted into a blaze of anger as she pitched a d20 directly at the DM.

Velvet ducked smoothly, as if anticipating such a reaction. “Everyone, roll initiative.” She looked at Blake with amusement. “If you have the dice to do it.”

“There’s more where that came from,” she snapped, pulling a second die out of her bag.

As the initiatives were called out, Velvet made her own rolls. “Shroud, swordsman, Ember, Myrtle, and White Fang grunts,” she announced once the dice settled.

As the party readies for battle, several more White Fang grunts emerge and join their leader. “Bring them to their knees!” the swordsman commands his underlings to attack the rest of the party with a wave of his katana.

Shroud barely registers their presence as she lunges at the swordsman, kusari-gama swinging. He parries deftly with a creepy smile tugging at his lips.

Ember and Myrtle are cut off by the advancing grunts. The adventurers unleash spells and strikes, bringing down two of the White Fang and opening up a gap in the line. The remaining grunts attack back, but do little damage.

Shroud disengages and disappears into the shadows. The swordsman leers at the retreating figure. “Running away again? Is that what you’ve become, my love? A coward?”

“I’m. Not. Running.” Shroud snarls as she locks blades with the swordsman.

“You. Will.” he grits out as he knocks Shroud prone. He looms over her as he rants, “As I set out upon this world and deliver the justice mankind so greatly deserves, I will make it my mission to destroy—”

“Velvet?” Blake’s voice was quiet and steady as she interrupted the fictitious diatribe, but her ears were flat against her head and Weiss could see the white-knuckled fist she had clenched in her lap, blocked from everyone else’s view by the table. “Velvs, could you tone it—tone h-him—down a little?”

Weiss frowned. She’d heard that tiniest crack in her girlfriend’s voice before, during a terse discussion about an abusive past relationship. Blake hadn’t divulged many details at the time, but given Velvet’s tendency to spin NPCs from real people, Weiss could guess what was going on. The sisters, however, looked mystified, but both intuited that this wasn’t the time for nosy questions.

Velvet lowered her ears abashedly as she nodded in understanding.

Scooting her chair closer, Weiss reached for Blake’s hand. It took several moments before she felt the fist relax and fingers uncoil. It would be mildly awkward for both of them to use their off-hands to manage their dice rolls and character sheets, but that was a small price to pay for the increased intimacy. “Perhaps next time,” Weiss whispered, lifting their intertwined hands slightly, “we should switch sides so it’ll be easier to write?”

Blake smiled and gave a small nod.

Velvet caught her eye. “I’m really sorry,” she whispered as she rolled to hit.

The swordsman casually stabs Shroud in the stomach as she lays on the ground—

Out of the corner of her vision, Weiss saw Blake’s hand clutched to her side, just below the ribs. Where that scar lay. As she felt her girlfriend’s hand tighten and heard a faint whimper, her own heart broke.

But the swordsman says nothing to the shadowdancer as he turns his attention to the rest of the party. “Feh!” he spits at Ember and Myrtle, “slavers and tyrants, the lot of you. There’ll be no stopping the vengeful flames of revolution: I am the judge, jury, and executioner of your abominable race!” Before he can attack anyone else, however, the rescued militiaman arrives with a few reinforcements and they engage the White Fang grunts, freeing the adventurers to focus on the main threat. Seeing the new combatants, the swordsman increases the intensity of his assault.

Weiss was deeply engrossed in the Player’s Handbook when Blake poked her sharply. “That’s the third time I’ve had to nudge you. What’s so fascinating that it’s worth nearly losing your turn over?” She cocked her head at the impatient DM glaring in their direction.

Weiss hid a smirk as she shook her head. “Nothing, just trying to find a way to save you.”

Blake gave her a knowing look. “I’ll ask you about that ‘nothing’ later.”

Dark energies swirl around Myrtle as she begins an arcane incantation. With a final, sharp gesture, the Phantasmal Killer is released. Though the swordsman’s eyes are hidden by his mask, terror is written into every muscle as he freezes in the presence of the beast that invades his mind. The phantasm reaches out with a dire touch and he is unable to fully steel himself against his fears: though he avoids certain death, the horrifying visage is too much and he staggers mightily as his heart constricts in his chest and his mind splinters into a hundred shrieking shards.

Myrtle smiles grimly as the swordsman reels from the spell. Shroud takes the opportunity to pick herself up and consume a healing potion as Ember takes the heat, engaging the next attack. With Ray of Enfeeblement sapping the swordsman’s strength, Ember and Shroud land solid hits and suffer little retaliation. He stumbles back as his coat begins to glisten with blood.

Facing a dwindling supply of spells, Myrtle is mostly reduced to firing Magic Missiles with her wand while her companions attack with blade and fists. As the battle wears on, the swordsman’s anti-human invectives become sparser, replaced with pained grunts. He looks quite rough, but will continue to fight to his last breath.

Ember tries to move around the swordsman to allow Shroud to flank him, but the bull faunus is too quick, attacking her before she can even make it halfway.

They listened to the clatter of dice being rolled behind the DM’s screen. Then they saw Velvet’s brow furrow, as if disbelieving the results. Her finger quickly flipped through a few pages of the tome beside her, the tension building with each passing second. She glanced back at the dice, double-checking the results. Then she blinked.

“In one fluid motion, the swordsman’s katana cuts through Ember’s—” the clatter of a die sounded, and Velvet winced at the result. “—Ember’s right arm as if it was nothing, severing it above the elbow. The bloodied remains of her limb sails through the air, landing with a wet thud on the floor several feet away.” Velvet paused. “Lose 33 HP and if that was yo—Ember’s dominant hand, remember to adjust your damage and attack rolls accordingly.”

Several jaws dropped. Someone sniffled away tears. Yang’s fingers curled around her character sheet and her wooden pencil creaked dangerously as her prosthetic hand tightened its vice-like grip.

The shock and trauma prove too much for Ember, the fearless monk slipping into unconsciousness a moment later.

Weiss looked momentarily concerned, for both Yang and Ember. She opted to try to help the former by asking a question about the latter. “Does this mean you have to make a Fortitude check to see if... if the stump gets infected?” It was an honest question, and drawing attention to the game’s mechanics would—hopefully—remind everyone that this was just a story.

Yang bounced right back in spite of the grim turn of events. “Nah, I can’t get sick—I’m a monk! Purity of Body, and all!” she declared with a preposterous shimmy of her hips.

Everyone snorted at that and the mood lifted slightly.

Blake turned to Weiss with a sober look. “Guess it’s up to us?”

Though unsteady on his feet, the swordsman advances. His footsteps leave bloody prints, but he remains bull-headed and singularly focused on killing the remaining adventurers. He sneers at the wizard he’s cornered, but her eyes glint in defiance as she grasps his arm with a Touch of Fatigue. Suddenly his sword feels ten times heavier and his feet are like lead. “A mere cantrip—” he laughs mirthlessly, but the rest of his sentence is cut short as his diminished reflexes fail to save him from a chain wrapping around his neck and a kusari-gama sinking deeply into his back. He can only gasp in pain as the blade twists between his ribs.

Myrtle and Shroud back away from the swordsman as he leans heavily on his katana, breath frothing blood across his lips. The wizard readies her wand and she can hear the chain of the kusari-gama being retracted for another strike. Scrabbling at the crumbling wall, the swordsman manages to draw himself to his full height, and he shifts his stance as if to charge—

“He’s fatigued, he can’t charge!” Weiss hissed at the DM, but was cut short with a glare.

But before he can take another step forward, he sinks to his knees, his katana skittering uselessly across the ground. Another thump and he lays facedown and motionless, his mask shattering in pieces beside him.

The sudden stillness is stifling.

“Wow,” said Ruby, finally breaking the silence. “Watching all that play out was brutal. I mean, compared to our earlier fights, that was like super dark...”

The tension from the encounter lingered as the players took a breather. Ruby, for her part, fidgeted in her seat as she knew her turn was coming up, and she would be facing the dangers entirely on her own.

Blake squinted slightly, as if trying to work out a puzzle she alone could see. “Velvet?” She finally said, her voice only faintly audible over the sisters’ bickering. “Exactly how powerful did you make him?”

Velvet shrunk back, slumping in her seat so her eyes were only barely visible over the edge of her DM’s screen. “Oh, you know, CR 14.” She tucked her legs up on the chair as Blake sent her a withering glare. “What?” Velvet mumbled defensively. “He’s scary! Besides,” she added, “I expected this to be a full-party fight.”

“So you just had to use my abusive ex.”

“Well, I thought you’d enjoy getting a chance to smear his face across the ground!”

“I told Ruby not to split the—” Yang broke off as she processed the rest of the conversation. “Wait, he’s a real person?” Suddenly a lot of things made sense. She watched similar realization, and horror, flash across her sister’s face.

“Unfortunately,” came the simultaneous reply from Blake and Velvet.

“Sorry my ex chopped off your arm,” Blake said, shuffling in her seat slightly. Yes, it wasn’t actually her fault, but the tangential connection between her romantic life and Yang’s amputation was bad enough in a fictitious story, so the fact that Yang was also missing her right arm in real life went several orders of magnitude beyond merely “awkward.”

Yang shrugged, shoveling Cheetos into her mouth with her prosthetic hand. “Eh, I obviously wasn’t too attached to it. ’Sides, you can’t spell ‘dismemberment’ without ‘Ember’!” She snickered to herself as everyone else stared slack-jawed.

Blake scowled, trying to smother Yang’s self-satisfaction with scorn. “I retract my apology.”

“So as I understand it,” said Weiss, “the fictional version of your ex is a creepy sword-wielding psychopath with a megalomaniacal streak.” She felt her hand twitch involuntarily.

Velvet and Blake exchanged glances. “Yes,” replied Blake, carefully, “the fictional version...”

Ruby and Yang looked alarmed while Weiss simply glowered. All three looked to Blake.

“He was detained by campus police several times for carrying a sword around, and was held overnight by the actual police after he violated the restraining order I had out.”

“Last I heard, he still has that katana mounted on the wall,” Velvet added.

“And I still have that restraining order.”

Everyone at the table shuddered and Weiss tightened her grip on Blake’s hand.

Velvet cleared the map and set the airship diagram back in the center, positioning Rose’s token on the side she’d climbed up earlier. “All right, Ruby. Your turn.”

(Meanwhile... and a few hundred feet above...)

The airship’s starboard hull is still smoking from the impact of the Fireball that had violently severed its final tether. A section of the structure is crumbling away, raining debris into the landscape below. The adventurers on the ground are too engrossed in their own fight to do more than spare the occasional glance up at the approaching airship, but they catch glimpses of a few black shapes emerging, blending into the settling dusk. Rose, however, gets a front-seat view of the griffons taking flight. From the gap in the hull, she can see cages of grimm filling the interior of the airship. Clinging to the netting with grimm in the sky seems like a poor idea, but when she tries to open the airship door, it is unyielding. With no other options, she climbs to the top of the vessel.

Eager to put more distance between herself and the flying grimm monstrosities, Rose tries to muscle open the only hatch she can find on top of the airship.

“Strength check, please.”

Ruby looked at her character sheet and then up at Velvet. “Can I take 10?”

The DM shook her head.

“But I’m not in combat!”

“There are griffons circling the airship and you know you’re in for a boss fight. I think that qualifies as ‘threatened or distracted.’”

Ruby acquiesced with a sigh, immediately followed by a groan as her d20 came to a stop. “Arg! I wanted to take 10!”

Velvet didn’t bother to conceal her grin.

After another minute of pounding, the hatch swings open with a creak audible even above the billowing winds. Rose’s triumphant smirk vanishes when she realizes that it was opened from the inside. She scrambles to put some distance between herself and the threshold as two menacing figures saunter out onto the hull. First out is the white-suited elf, twirling a cane between his fingers as he scowls, casting about for the source of the racket. The diminutive elf follows closely behind, one leg crossing leisurely in front of the other as if out for a stroll in the park.

Velvet pulled some clear risers from her box and placed three griffons at various heights scattered around the airship diagram, dwarfing the lone red token facing off against two mini-bosses.

Yang glared at Ruby. “What did we say about running off on your own?”

Ruby pulled her hood up and curled into her seat, refusing to look Yang in the eye. “‘Don’t,’” she mumbled, feeling like she was six years old again and being scolded by her bigger sister for doing something stupid.

“After you die, I’m going to spend the next month saying, ‘I told you so.’”

“Another fresh-faced adventurer, eager to get her name chiseled into the Guild memorial wall. What is this, the third one this year?” asks Torchwick, sizing up Rose. His companion smiles predatorily but says nothing.

“What are you doing?” demands Rose, her eyes darting back and forth between her adversaries, who are slowly moving to flank her. “Transporting this many grimm into the city will destroy it!”

“That’s the plan!”

With barely a moment’s notice the elf points his cane at Rose, depressing an inlaid trigger to send a small projectile shooting in her direction.

The dart sank into Rose through a gap in her armor. Though it did little damage, she could feel the metal searing her flesh. She lets out a hiss of pain but manages to remain standing.

“But why? What do you get out of it?”

“Roll a Sense Motive check?” Velvet asked.

Ruby grimaced as she rolled her d20. “8?” she supplied hesitantly, knowing it wouldn’t get her anything.

“I mean, he’s got some reason for what he’s doing, you figure that much,” Velvet offered before slipping back into character.

“You’re asking the wrong questions, kid!” replies Torchwick. “It’s not what I have to gain, it’s that I can’t afford to lose!”

Neo follows with a volley of melee attacks a moment later, and Rose barely manages to fend off grievous injury. The adventurer scurries back a moment later, doing her best to avoid being attacked by both elves simultaneously.

“I may be a gambling man, but even I know that there are some bets you just don’t take.” Roman continues monologuing even as Neo evaporates the distance Rose had tried to create.

Velvet looked slightly apologetic as she requested a Strength check from Ruby. “This was also intended to be a full-party fight.”

Ruby nodded, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “16.”

“She pushes you back five feet, which...” They all looked down on the map. It put Rose over the edge. “Make a Balance check.”

“23?” Ruby asked, looking a little more hopeful.

The bloodthirsty assailant lands a series of blows against Rose, sending the guildsman teetering backwards, balanced precariously at the airship’s edge.

“Like it or not, the people that hired me are going to change the world! You can’t stop ’em, I can’t stop ’em!”

Neither of the elves attack Rose, as if pausing for dramatic effect. Neo’s parasol transforms into a sword, pointed menacingly at Rose’s throat, but she remains stock-still, as if waiting for an order. Several grimm swoop nearby overhead, apparently taking an interest in the skirmish. Rose glances around for anyone or anything that could be of use, but comes up blank.

“You know the old saying, ‘If you can’t beat ’em—’”

Rose pulls herself up with one hand and grabs Neo’s sword with the other, using her scythe and the elf to climb back onto the relative safety of the airship.

Neo pitches under Rose’s weight, seeming to hold steady at first before suddenly losing her balance and toppling head-first over the side, careening towards the ground.

“Neo!” The shout came from either Torchwick or Velvet: it was difficult to tell who was more distraught about their favorite elf assassin suddenly being eliminated.

Rose stands defiant before her would-be killer, resolve on her brow and fire in her eyes. “I don’t care what you say! We will stop them and I will stop you! BET ON THAT!”

Blake and Weiss exchanged furtive glances as Ruby pounded the table, causing several tokens to briefly become airborne. Even Velvet seemed taken aback, shifting slightly in her seat, half-expecting Ruby to lunge at her. Blake caught Yang’s mortified expression a moment later.

“I’m sorry, she... I don’t know... watched a lot of anime as a kid?” Yang offered, as if that explained anything.

Ruby looked slightly embarrassed, but Velvet was quick to reassure her. “That was fantastic. If we were playing in 5e, that would have earned an Inspiration point. Mark it down on your character sheet: you’ll get to re-roll a d20 once.” An edge of malice worked its way into her grin. “Believe me, you’ll need all the help you can get.”

Torchwick easily dodges Rose’s attacks, landing several of his own in return. “You wanna be a hero?!” he demands, “then play the part and die like every other guildsman in history!”

The players shared glances, concerned at just how into character Velvet getting as she shouted gleefully in her Torchwick voice. Whatever inhibitions had caused her to temper her adaptation of Blake’s ex were gone, and her sense of drama was back with a vengeance now that someone was enthusiastically playing along.

“26 to hit?” Velvet asked, switching back to her neutral DM voice so effortlessly it gave the party whiplash.

Ruby looked at her AC and nodded glumly. “Hits.”

“Take 15 damage.” The chuckle that followed was just slightly more villainous than anyone else around the table was comfortable with. Ruby grumbled as she sullenly adjusted her HP.

“As for me, I’ll do what I do best: lie, steal, cheat, and survive!”

Velvet moved the nearest griffon towards Ruby’s token and smirked as she rolled her dice. The mirth evaporated as the clattering stopped. “Uh—” More clattering. Velvet now looked horrified. “The griffon... eats Torchwick whole.”

Ruby’s sigh of relief was the only sound as shock descended on the rest of the players. When the two mini-bosses had re-emerged, Blake had already consigned “Rose” to whatever afterlife Player Characters go to. Judging from the stunned expressions around the table, everyone else had been thinking the same thing

An angry growl and papers shuffling at the end of the table drew their attention. “There goes that whole stack of prepared dialogue and scenarios!” exclaimed Velvet in a huff. “I never thought much about dice shaming photos, but I think these are bloody cactus,” she fumed as she shoved a handful of d20s back into the pouch. Armed with new dice, she turned to her captive audience still surrounded by grimm tokens. “You’re not entirely off the hook, yet.”

Ruby squirmed in her seat. “I... cast Sanctuary on myself?” It was more of a question than a statement. “It’ll stop them from attacking me as I move towards the hatch.” She pointed to it on the airship diagram. The griffon that had landed to eat Torchwick stood between Rose and her avenue of escape.

“Saving throw?”

“Will save—DC 14. They can attack if they succeed.”

Velvet rolled a few dice, keeping her face blank as she determined the exact results. “All right, you cast it. What do you do next?”

Rose whispers a final prayer to Kord as she bolts for the still-open hatch. The griffon turns its head to watch her go, lazily batting at the adventurer as she passes. She cries out in pain, but manages to drop into the body of the airship, slamming the hatch shut behind her.

She looks around for a hiding spot, grateful for the lack of White Fang in the immediate vicinity, and wedges herself between a crate and the wall to heal.

(Meanwhile... and a few hundred feet below...)

Shroud co-opts a pair of guards into moving Ember to the temple for treatment and Myrtle converses with the rest of the town militia about the White Fang presence. A stranger joins them, addressing the wizard by name. “So you’re Myrtle, eh? Barty—’scue me, ‘Doctor’ Oobleck—called me to this town once he finally figured out this wasn’t another of Oz’s milk runs.”

Yang and Ruby exchanged a look at the voice Velvet was using. It was vaguely familiar but they couldn’t quite place it.

Myrtle points to the approaching airship. “Our fellow guildsman was on that and it’s full of White Fang members. Would you be able to help? We’re tapped out.”

“Don’t worry your little head, missy, I’ve gotcha covered.”

Yang’s eyes narrowed and Weiss let out an indignant squawk at being called “missy.”

Unaware of the fates of their leaders, the White Fang crew anchor the airship at the outskirts of the village. The crew begin disembarking a moment later, blissfully ignorant of the fact that their mission is already a failure.

When the engines shut down, Rose scrambles to get off the ship first, racing past the remaining White Fang grunts, who are too startled to react.

“Members of the White Fang,” Rose declares, standing fearlessly in front of the inert airship. The haft of her scythe rests easily in her hands, the sun’s last rays glistening off its crescent blade. She looks totally badass, and the White Fang grunts are definitely quaking in their boots—

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Velvet cut in.

Ruby pouted, but did her best to ignore the interruption. “Anyways,” continues Rose, “as an initiated member of the Adventurers’ Guild, I am sworn to protect life whenever I can, even the lives of killers and thieves. Lay down your weapons, and my justice will be merciful. Resist me, and justice will be swift, justice will be painful, and it will be—” she stumbles over her words and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind: “delicious!”

“Delicious?” Velvet asked in disbelief.

Ruby tore her eyes away from the enticing tub of popcorn situated between Blake and Weiss and looked back at Velvet. “I panicked! I couldn’t think of a different word!”

“Just make an Intimidate roll,” pleaded Velvet, massaging her brow. Ruby let out a disaffected grunt at being interrupted twice in under a minute, but dutifully rolled her d20.

Yang snickered a little at the outcome and nudged Blake to pass the tub.

Several of the White Fang grunts shuffle awkwardly about, looking more concerned about hurting Rose’s feelings than any threats she’s making. One looks like he’s suppressing a laugh, and only barely.

“Oh come on,” groaned Ruby. Why did her Intimidate rolls always end up this way? She even took ranks in it!

Rose growls, twirling her blade menacingly about her body. If the grunts will not accept her offer of mercy, then she will at least make this quick.

Velvet glanced at something behind her DM screen. “And all of a sudden, the White Fang minions really are quaking in their boots. Their faces pale and their jaws drop open, swords and daggers falling to the grass with dull thuds.”

“Wait, did Rose actually Intimidate the enemies?” asked Weiss. “I thought you only got one chance with that skill?”

“Oh, it’s not Rose,” answered Velvet, a smile creeping across her face.

Rose finally realizes that the grunts aren’t staring at her but behind her, and she spins about, breath catching in her throat as she does. On the rise of a small hill stands a menacing figure, silhouetted by the setting sun. The scythe he wields makes Rose’s weapon look like a lowly farm tool, but he carries it effortlessly in one hand. His cape—tattered from bar fight and battlefield alike—flutters gently in the evening breeze.

“Between you and me,” he growls, his voice low and grave, “I think you should take her up on that offer. Of the two of us, the little lady here seems far more forgiving.”

Ruby half-leapt out of her chair, letting out a high-pitched “Thaaaaaat’s my uncle!”

“That does sound a lot like Uncle Qrow.” Yang agreed, eyes glazing over as she lost herself in her memories. “Heh, if you had a drink to get in-character for him, it’d definitely be just whiskey in a—”

Yang turned to Velvet, who already had a flask raised to her mouth. Velvet froze—suddenly a deer in the headlights—taking in the table’s expressions ranging from bewilderment to mild disgust. Her lips separated from the flask a moment later, and she looked at the container like it had somehow snuck up on her. She blushed scarlet, hurriedly placing the flask back behind her screen.

“How do you even have room for all those drinks?” asked Ruby, staring intensely at the DM’s screen as if it concealed a real-life Bag of Holding.

“That’s not important,” replied Velvet, dismissing the question with an airy wave. “But what do you mean, ‘Uncle’ Qrow?”

“Um... he’s our uncle?” Yang shrugged as if this was a self-evident truth.

Velvet stared at her, agog. “You’re related to Qrow Branwen?” She looked a little horrified, then turned to face Ruby. “Suddenly, your recklessness makes sense...”

“I mean technically he’s not my biological uncle, but you know, still family,” clarified Ruby. “He did kind of help raise me.”

Velvet giggled behind her screen. “I’m trying to imagine Mister Branwen babysitting you two and I just... can’t.”

“Wow, Mister Branwen,” repeated Yang, a derisive snort escaping her. “That must’ve driven him up the wall.”

“Well, it’s awkward to call your homeroom teacher ‘Qrow,’” replied Velvet, defensively. “Though, admittedly, not as awkward as trying to cover up his hangover to the principal,” she muttered.

Yang wasn’t done snickering. “‘Mister Branwen,’ the principal says you shouldn’t swear so much in class,” she teased, contorting her voice into a teeth-gnashingly bad imitation of Velvet’s accent. “‘Mister Branwen,’ the principal says you can’t keep your whiskey flasks where students can find them. ‘Mister Branwen,’ the principal says you can’t threaten the faculty with bodily harm.”

Ruby descended into hysterics at Yang’s impressions.

Velvet recovered from her embarrassment by delving back into narration.

A detachment of the local guard surround the prisoners, obviously relishing the prospect of some payback. The few White Fang grunts who were considering revising the terms of their surrender immediately stop when they notice the angry guildsmen watching them.

“And what’s a pipsqueak like you doing on a vessel full of White Fang?” Qrow demands of Rose as he oversees the arrests.

Rose draws herself up to her full hei—

“And entirely unimpressive height,” Yang overrode her sister.

Ruby glared across the table at Yang. “Rose isn’t short!”

Yang leaned over to grab Rose’s character sheet again. “I don’t believe you.”

“She’s five foot five!” Ruby protested as she slid the paper out of reach.

“That’s average for a human female,” Velvet pointed out. “It’s definitely unimpressive though.”

Blake cautiously glanced at her girlfriend as the rest of the table debated the semantics of the term “short.” A rather bleak expression was starting to seep through Weiss’ neutral facade as the argument dragged on.

Ruby pouted for a moment longer before continuing the discussion with Qrow.

“I’ll have you know that I single-handedly took out both of their leaders!” Rose says, trying to resist the urge to stand on her tiptoes.

“Did you, now?” Qrow is barely concealing a smile. “And how exactly did you manage that?”

“Well, I knocked one off the top of the ship!”

He takes a swig from his flask. “Did you see ’em die? Could have made it.”

“Well... no. But we were a couple hundred feet up! There’s no way she could have survived that.”

“Rule one of combat, kid—they’re not dead unless you see them die, and even then they can always be resurrected.”

“I knew you were too attached to let her die like that,” Blake muttered under her breath.

Velvet sat up straighter. “She had her Wand of Dimension Door. She easily could have made it!”

Blake grinned. “So she is a rogue.”

Velvet didn’t dignify that with a response.

“And the other?”

“I saw him die!” Rose insists.

Qrow just raises an eyebrow.

“Eaten by a griffon,” she says as quickly as possible, half-muttered under her breath. “But he’s definitely dead!”

Everyone turned to eye Velvet. “Yes, he’s actually dead,” she confirmed, sadly. “Word of Dungeon Master.”

“All right pipsqueak, go find the rest of your party, I’m sure they’re worried about you. I’ll deal with whatever’s left scurrying around in here.” Qrow climbs into the belly of the ship through the scorched hull.

“Be careful!” Rose calls out, walking back towards the ship after him. “They’re really dangerous.”

Qrow pops his head back out and scoffs. “These things? Nah, they’re in cages. It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

The adventurers are reunited over Ember’s cot in the local temple, exchanging hugs and congratulations and a few recriminations about “party splitting.” Their respective brushes with death are hastily recounted, but more than anything, they’re all looking forward to a good night’s sleep.

Returning some time later from his mop-up work, Qrow leans in close to Ember as the village healer finishes checking her bandages. “I know some good clerics who can regenerate your arm back in the city. I can send word and Oz will have them ready by the time you arrive.” At Ember’s pensive silence, he adds, “If you wanted, of course.” He hesitates before clasping a hand on her shoulder. “Think on it.”

Yang looked at Velvet, unconsciously rubbing her prosthetic with her left hand. “I mean, Ember’s a monk—they have the same bonuses for either hand and they don’t have to punch for their Flurry of Blows ability. So, really, it’s just a matter of not being able to use two-handed weapons, right?”

Velvet thought for a moment. “Ember would also take a penalty on two-handed actions—certain climb checks, things like that. It’s up to you.”

“I...” She stuttered and bit her bottom lip. “Ember should have both arms. It’s what makes sense for her.” Yang managed a small smile. “Besides, then she can flip off people mid-battle again!”

Everyone lets out a quiet laugh as Velvet chastises her with a half-hearted “Lawful!”

“Neutral!” Yang shot back. “Though—how long does it take? I’m thinking we’ll be walking into a shitstorm back at the city.”

Velvet quickly consulted the Player’s Handbook. “2d10 rounds.”

“And a round is six seconds?” Yang paused as she did the math. “So it’ll take a maximum of two minutes to regrow an arm?” her voice pitched upwards incredulously. She shook her head slowly with a dour snort. “If only it were that easy in real life,” she murmured as her eyes lingered on her prosthetic limb.

The weary adventurers are given free food and lodging by the grateful villagers. After a hearty meal and hot baths, they settle into their simply-furnished room at the inn for a long rest.

“So... what else was on the ship?” Ruby asked.

“Beyond the grimm and some mining equipment, there’s nothing of value,” the DM replied.

“Well, in that case, could we go back to the mine in the morning?”

“I think we’ve got to go back to the city in the morning,” Weiss told her. “Why do you want to go back to the mine?”

Ruby bit her lip but didn’t respond.

“You want that chainsaw, don’t you?” Blake sighed.

“No! Well... not just that.”

Yang tried reasoning with her. “I highly doubt Velvet would allow you to combine it with your scythe.”

“Absolutely not,” Velvet confirmed, the note of finality quelling all argument.

Ruby let out a long whine but let it go.

The lull in conversation was interrupted by an ominous growl from Yang’s stomach. She looked sheepish as everyone gawked. “Maybe we could do dinner?” she suggested once the noise subsided.

Velvet nodded as she leaned over to call into the living room, “Yatsu, can you phone for pizza?” The TA nodded absently, eager for an excuse to stretch. Velvet turned to address the players. “Please stay on your side of the table. I’ve got to rearrange my notes now that my planned scenarios... went a bit bollocks.”

Weiss and Blake checked in regarding their preferences for toppings, leaving the sisters to argue over what they wanted on their shared pizza and poor Yatsuhashi to wrangle the noisy pair. While everyone’s attention was occupied, Blake angled her head down conspiratorially. “So, about that ‘nothing’ you nearly lost your turn over?” she asked Weiss without preamble.

Weiss flushed a little. “Oh! I, uh—” she lowered her voice in embarrassment, “I was trying to figure out how to give him a wedgie, but I wasn’t high enough level to cast any of Bigby’s Hands, and Mage Hand wouldn’t have done any damage,” she finished in a rush.

Blake stared at her. Those were certainly not words she’d ever expected to hear from her girlfriend’s mouth. “A wedgie?” she repeated dumbly.

The flush deepened. “It’s... silly, I know, but I was upset at him for hurting you and—”

“It’s kind of romantic, actually, that you were considering something so unlike yourself on my behalf.” Blake beamed. “He totally deserved a wedgie, too,” she snickered, pressing a kiss to Weiss’ temple.

“If you’re done being mushy,” Yang interrupted, “help pass out plates and napkins so we can get to eating as soon as the pizza arrives!”

“And if you’re not doing anything useful, how about picking up the stuff you all threw during the game?” Velvet added.

Weiss grabbed the stack of plates and napkins proffered by Yang and began setting them out.

“You just don’t want to touch food that’s been on the ground,” Blake grumbled as she walked around the table to retrieve her d20 and sweep up the stray popcorn kernels.

Before long, pizza delivery arrived and minor scuffles erupted as they divvied up the slices. Several people exchanged amused glances as Weiss cut into her share daintily with a fork and knife, but no one said a word. The sound of contented chewing filled the air as they ate, and the conversation returned to the game. Ruby bounced around the room as she reenacted her favorite scenes. Most of them starred herself, of course, but a few featured the other party members.

Weiss took the opportunity to get her attention as the ball of energy returned to her seat. “Now that we’re all back together, can we please not split the party again?”

“Why?” Ruby asked, taking a large bite of pizza. “Splitting the party worked out pretty well last time,” she mumbled with her mouth full.

Everyone stared aghast at Ruby.

Yang was deathly silent as she held up her prosthetic arm—with a single raised finger—and pointed to it angrily with her left hand.

“Oh. Right...” Ruby shrank so far in her seat she was practically hiding under the table.

“Ruby Rose, you sit yourself up properly while I yell at you!”

When Ruby continued to cower under the table, Velvet thought it wise to intervene before blood could be shed. Coco would never let her hear the end of it if—heaven forbid—the carpet got stained. “Yang, if you throttle her, that also counts as splitting the party.”

It didn’t end the daggers that Yang glared at Ruby, but at least she didn’t look ready to leap out of her seat and strangle her sister anymore.

As they tidied up the paper plates and half-eaten crusts, Velvet found Weiss in the kitchen, mercifully alone. “I wanted to apologize for the ‘White Fang versus SDC’ mix-up earlier...” she began.

Weiss stopped her with a gentle wave. “It’s really okay. I know how faunus see the SDC and its legacy, and I can’t say it’s an undeserved image. I was already looking at ways to change the company when I met Blake, and by now I’ve been with her long enough to... to have very different ideas from how I’d been raised.” She grinned. “As long as your story doesn’t involve the SDC under my leadership, I don’t mind.”

Velvet nodded with a smile. “Deal.”

As Weiss walked past Ruby, she felt a hand at her wrist stopping her. “Oh my god, Weiss, is that a tiny origami crane pendant?” Ruby asked, peering closely at the necklace.

“Yes, Blake folded it out of a Starburst wrapper for me.” The words were already out of her mouth before she realized who she was speaking to. She looked up in time to see Yang’s expression of utter horror. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed, but Yang only scowled in return.

Like wrangling cats—though Blake was the first to sit down—Velvet eventually managed to get all the players back around the table. The DM skimmed her revised notes one last time in preparation for the next phase of her campaign. Weiss and Blake began choosing Myrtle’s spells for the day ahead. Ruby and Yang argued over the rightful ownership of some of the more colorful dice.

“Ruby, don’t you have to choose spells too?” Weiss asked as she adjusted her glasses, trying to concentrate over the argument and subtly fend off Blake.

“I’m just going to use the same ones I had yesterday.” Ruby had stood in her chair to try and reach Yang, but sat back down after a glare from Velvet.

“After what happened in town, I don’t think we’re going for stealth anymore,” Blake pointed out.

Ruby stuck her tongue out at her but pulled over her copy of the Player’s Handbook to review spells as well.

“Don’t give me that look. It’s not like I’m happy about it, either!” Blake protested. “I prefer the shadows.”

Having snaked an extra d20 from Ruby, Yang cackled as she spun the pair in her left hand. “Let’s get rolling!”