(See the end of the chapter for notes .)

Chapter Text

The party departs as the sun rises, carefully heeding Rose’s advice not to rouse Qrow from his mead-induced slumber. Their trip back to the city is eerily uneventful, the surrounding woodlands almost worryingly silent.

The city seems tense as they arrive. Glynda Goodwitch intercepts the party as they approach the Guildmaster’s Quarters.

“Do we know who she is?” asked Weiss, referring to the newly-arrived NPC.

Velvet paused momentarily, flipping back hurriedly through her notes. “Bloody hell, was she not in the first scene?” she cursed under her breath.

Weiss shook her head.

The DM sighed at her own slip-up. “You recognize her as the second-in-command at the Guild.”

“I will be debriefing you this morning,” Glynda begins curtly. “The Doctor was able to send a ‘short’ message to the Guild, but since he apparently can’t write anything shorter than a dissertation, we will need your firsthand account of your mission to Mountain Glenn.” She pauses as her eye twitches. “Just skip the ‘pretty rocks’ and go straight to the dragon.”

The party fills in the substantial gaps left by Oobleck’s message. As they finish recounting their mission, the topic turns to the reports of grimm heading towards the city. Though the party had not encountered any on their own journey that morning, Goodwitch has received reliable accounts from other sources: these aren’t wayward grimm too young to be cautious around large settlements, but veritable legions of hulking monsters, many from the scarcely-traversed Forever Fall to the north of the city. While grimm sometimes travel in larger packs, the only explanation for the numberless horde descending on the city is that something drawing them to it.

As the discussion with Goodwitch comes to a close, Rose fidgets with her weapon. “So, where is the Guildmaster?”

“Oz—the Guildmaster is engaged in a... deeper battle against a far greater evil than what you’ve uncovered for us. He will be unable to join in the immediate fight that appears to be brewing.” The distant tone is immediately swept away under her business-like demeanor as she turns to Ember. “If you are ready, the clerics are waiting for you in the temple.”

The adventurers are dismissed without fanfare, and their trek to the temple is as uneventful as their return from Mountain Glenn—the streets are deserted and no lights glow from inside the many shuttered shops, even though it’s past opening time for many businesses. Only the Temple of Tamara shows some signs of life, and after a quick exchange, the clerics set to work on Ember.

“If any of them try a ‘healing touch,’ make sure they’re not copping a feel,” growls Ember as she’s guided to a small bed in the back of the temple. One of the clerics approaches, carrying a medallion of a seven-pointed star on a field of black. He shakes his head at Ember’s statement, but starts up his quiet chant, laying his free hand on the stump of her right arm.

Myrtle lets out an offended huff. “These are clerics devoted to the service of their god; they’re not going to ‘cop a feel’ while healing you!”

Ember only raises an eyebrow. “And I’m a monk, and I’d do it!”

Everyone groaned at the tortuous logic and hypocrisy of Yang’s admission.

“You’re all gathered around Ember’s cot?” asks Velvet, eliciting nods from the players. “Alright, everyone make a Listen check.”

Ruby whined at her die. “How can I critically fail a Listen check?”

“13.”

“23.”

“11.”

Rose hears a noise outside and jumps to attention, but her cape snags on the censer behind her chair and flings the burning incense across the floor as the silver lid clatters to the ground. As she hurries to ensure that her clothes aren’t on fire, the noise is all but forgotten.

“I tell you: capes are a bad idea.” admonished Yang.

“Aren’t you busy regrowing an arm or something? Leave me alone!” hissed Ruby.

Across from her, Shroud’s head snaps upright, suddenly shaken from the hypnotic trance watching the clerics at work had put her under. She hears what sound like panicked shouts coming from outside the temple’s doors. She can’t make out the words, but she can hear what sounds like a small crowd running by.

Shroud quickly alerts her companions, Myrtle and Rose both surveying the temple uneasily. While the large, iron-banded doors make it an eminently defensible location, there are also no other obvious exits if they’re attacked.

“I’ll go take a look outside,” murmurs Shroud, and her fellow adventurers nod in agreement. Shroud quickly covers the distance to the temple door, crouches low, and peers out.

Blake was rolling a spot check before Velvet had even asked. “26.”

“Well?” demanded Ruby. “What’s out there?”

Dozens of men wielding swords and spears are running through the streets, shouting frantically. Off in the distance, Shroud can make out the forms of avian grimm flying towards the city. With no threats in the immediate vicinity, she shuts the temple door as quietly as she can, trying not to attract unwanted attention.

“What happens if the regeneration process is interrupted?” Myrtle wonders aloud.

“Yeah, can I get stuck with, like, nineteen-twentieths of a regenerated arm?” asked Yang, mostly out of morbid curiosity.

Velvet let out an exasperated sigh as she rolled her d10s. “Oh look, a 3. Nothing goes wrong and Ember’s arm is fully regrown in well under a minute.”

“Ow,” grumbles Ember, wincing faintly at the pins-and-needles sensation coursing through her regrown flesh. Judging by the sounds of chaos on the streets, however, there’s no time to test the efficacy of the newly regenerated arm. Ember joins the party as they prepare to exit the temple. She flexes the limb and cracks a grin. “I guess it’ll be trial by—”

“A Fireball crashes into the door as the monk speaks. Roll a Reflex save.”

The party escapes the flames intact, though Myrtle’s robe is singed. “All right, Guildsmen,” Rose declares, brandishing her scythe, “Banzai!”

Sticking close together, the adventurers run straight towards the sounds of bloodshed, already spotting pillars of smoke in the distance where the fighting has consumed whole buildings. They reach one of the major intersections a few minutes later, rounding the corner to an alley leading to one of the city’s main gates.

Among the rag-tag militiamen are a handful of Guildsmen, four of whom are entangled in a fierce battle with a lone White Fang spellcaster and a pack of monsters. A gleeful laugh splits the air as a female dwarf swings a giant warhammer at the serpentine grimm attacking her. “I’ll break your legs!” she shouts.

The slim young man next to her drives his twin daggers into the black wolf before him as he quietly notes, “Nora, it’s a king taijitu. I’m pretty sure snakes don’t have legs.”

Nora shrugs airily. “But it’s got two heads! I’ll break those instead!”

Their apparent leader—a tall redhead with a golden circlet who is armed with a small shield and a spear—starts to respond, but gets distracted by another explosion behind them.

“Stay here,” she orders as she darts into the alley the explosion came from, muttering about the citadel.

“Hey! Wait!” the blond she was fighting beside yells. “Stop, stop! Pyrrha, please don’t do this!” he cries, but the ursa he’s fighting knocks him to one side and into a building, ensuring he wouldn’t be able to catch up to her.

They help the remaining three guildsmen finish off the pack of grimm quickly, but there’s no catching up to Pyrrha now. Movement in the smoke-filled alley she disappears into catches their eye.

A tall, broad-shouldered man emerges from the haze. He carries himself with authority despite having lost half his clothes—

The DM was interrupted by a gale of laughter.

—to a fire sometime during the battle. She tried to cover-up her wording malfunction to no avail.

Velvet glared at the party, who were all laughing too hard to breathe. She tried again. “Directing the local militia is a tall, broad-shouldered man who carries himself with authority despite his tattered uniform...”

It took a couple more moments for the group to compose themselves—though Yang only managed after she stopped trying to make eye contact with anyone.

Blake was still grinning as she gestured to Velvet to continue.

“Most of the right side of his body is exposed, revealing it to be made of stone.”

There was a noise from Velvet’s right as Yang thumped her head against the table, her entire body wracked with silent laughter.

Velvet ran through what she had just said, trying to figure out what had set Yang off this time.

“How far over does the rock go?” Yang wheezed out.

“I—I don’t know? You can’t tell. Is it important?” Velvet really should have known better than that by now.

Yang nodded fervently. “We have to know if he takes his hard-on for granite.”

The reactions around the room were varied. Ruby immediately flipped her hood up and tried to slink under the table.

Weiss flushed a faint pink as she got the puns.

Blake pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting to conceal a smile.

Velvet just gaped for a long moment before covering her face with both hands. “You recognize him as General Ironwood, leader of the local militia and a friend of the Guild, though you’ve never spoken to him directly,” she went on as if there hadn’t been an interruption, though it’s half-muffled.

“Ironwood? Sounds more like Stone—”

Yang was cut off abruptly by Velvet continuing the narration.

Most of the militia is dressed in ill-fitting leather armor and scurry about frantically, wide-eyed and uncoordinated, but the General moves with military precision. As he turns to address some of his charges, Rose spots a plain greatsword in the baldric across his back.

Ruby snorted. “A greatsword?! That’s all he’s got?”

“What’s the matter? Disappointed by the General’s ‘short’ sword?” teased Yang, eliciting groans from everyone around the table.

Everyone except Ruby, who remained naively ignorant of the innuendo. “Yeah! I mean, he’s obviously a big and important dude, so his sword should be, like, at least twice as long as a normal one.”

“Really, Ruby, it’s how he uses it that’s important,” continued Yang, a cackle escaping despite her best efforts as she took in her sister’s thoroughly confused expression.

“Someone... stop them...” pleaded Velvet as Yang threw her head back, surrendering to maniacal laughter.

Weiss and Blake exchanged glances and quiet words. Pale cheeks flushed as Weiss lost the argument and got up with a sigh. She headed over to whisper in Ruby’s ear while Blake clamped a hand over Yang’s mouth and hissed at her, “until you hush, I’ll be making your rolls for you.”

Yang’s eyes narrowed for a moment before Blake frowned and reached for a napkin. “You did not just lick me,” she growled as she wiped her first hand and pressed her other hand—still holding the napkin—over Yang’s mouth.

On the other side of the table, Ruby turned as red as her hood, sinking back into her chair and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

Yang tapped the hand covering her mouth, and Blake cautiously let go. “It’s not as much fun now that she knows,” she explained.

There is a loud crash as a bird-monster the size of a building lands awkwardly in the streets, brought down by the attacks from the ground. Nearby, two groups of guildsmen head towards the prone grimm, intent on eradicating the threat while it is weakened. In a feat of unspoken coordination, the swordsmen of the group execute a synchronized attack from opposite ends of the street. Their respective teams launch them into the air and they cleave the very head of the monster from its neck.

Rose sighs in awe as the swordsmen heft their massive weapons over their shoulders. “Now those are greatswords!” she whispers.

Ruby looked more closely at the miniatures that had been set out to depict the chaos of the fights, focusing in on one of the ones near the decapitated bird. “Wait, that miniature looks like Banesaw... but he has a greatsword.”

“It’s not Banesaw, though it is the same miniature. I do have a limited number of them.”

Blake picked up the rabbit faunus miniature next to not-Banesaw to admire it. “I do like your collection of faunus.” She peered closer at the other greatsword-wielder. “Is that one an owl faunus?”

“You’ve got a good eye!” Velvet said as she dropped another grimm onto the map. Literally.

A giant skeletal scorpion crashes down from above without warning, landing heavily on the outer wall of the city and creating a gap in the masonry. The creature is nearly dead from the impact, its golden stinger dangling limply from the tip of its tail, so the guildsmen turn their gazes upwards, shielding their eyes from the sun as they look for the source of the falling grimm.

They can see a black dragon circling overhead, dropping grimm across the city as it flies back and forth.

A monkey-tailed faunus from one of the other groups slumps forward in disbelief. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“All right, looks like the north wall is sealed,” declares Rose, watching as the General directs the completion of barricades. “At least we don’t have to worry about grimm from outside the city.”

“Yeah, but for how long?” retorts Ember. “That dragon could swing back around at any moment and blow the wall wide open.”

They all paused for a moment. “Wait a minute, why isn’t the dragon attacking the fortifications?” asks Myrtle, finally putting voice to what they’d all been wondering. “Its behavior certainly doesn’t suggest it’s being controlled by someone looking for a tactical advantage.”

“What’s the dragon doing?” asked Blake, addressing the DM.

“While the dragon had been flying back and forth across the city in a haphazard fashion, you can all see that it’s now just circling a tall spire in the center of the city. Make a Knowledge: Local check.”

“That’s Beacon Citadel,” declares Rose, the only one of the four intimately familiar with the oldest quarter of the city. “But why would anyone...”

Beacon Citadel is a stone fortress built atop the tallest of the city’s seven hills, and its centuries-old watchtower provides a commanding view of the surrounding lands. Once a keep par excellence, the citadel had been rendered obsolete by new walls ringing the city and years of peace with the neighboring kingdoms. These days, it is used mostly as an armory and a storehouse, busy only during the infrequent ceremonies it still hosts. While a few members of the city guard remain stationed there, they have left it unguarded to move closer to the front lines of battle.

Gesturing for everyone to help clear the table, Velvet laid out a massive grid depicting the city’s sprawling streets and alleyways. The players mulled over the map, trying to identify an optimal route to the Citadel at the center while avoiding the White Fang patrols and pockets of monsters dotting the city.

Shroud scouts ahead and spots a small group of grimm prowling the streets searching for easy prey. She returns to the party and updates them on what she’s seen. There’s no avoiding the fight—not unless they want to add a half hour’s detour to their journey—but if they can get it over with quickly, they should reach the Citadel with no further interruptions. Myrtle casts Haste on everyone and they advance rapidly, trying to surprise the grimm.

Shroud moves past the party in a blur. In a single leap, she reaches the rooftop of a nearby inn, using it as a platform to approach her quarry. Running at a dead sprint, she launches her lithe form off the building’s edge to reach the nearer of two snake heads, the one reared high in the air. She lands nimbly on its neck and deals a crushing two-handed blow, sinking her kusari-gama deeply into the white head, directly between the creature’s eyes. Wrenching the blade free with a scraping of bone and scales, Shroud leaps down to the cobbled road where the other half of the king taijitu is coiled. Deftly dodging the gnashing fangs with superhuman speed as the white snake head writhes in its death throes, she makes her move before the remaining head can strike. Lashing her chain securely around the snake’s jaw, she steadies herself against its wild bucking and drives her blade into its eye, and twists. As it recoils in agonizing pain, Shroud leaves the blade embedded but unwinds the chain, dropping to the ground in a silent crouch. Securing her hold on her weapon, she braces herself as the snake reaches the end of the tether, snapping the chain taut, before the kusari-gama blade rips loose from the bony orbit of its eye socket and tears out a large section of its skull. The monster splatters gore across the street as it thrashes one last time.

Blake stared at the DM in disbelief. “What.”

“Everyone else’s characters had their moment in the spotlight, so I thought you should get your moment, too.”

“Velvet, I’m a shadowdancer. What part of ‘shadow’ screams ‘spotlight’ to you?”

“I thought it was awesome!” Ruby piped up. “You were all, like, ‘Hooowaaah! Witchaaaa!’” She enthusiastically pantomimed a series of martial arts strikes and poses to accompany the ridiculous sound effects.

Blake rolled her eyes. “You think a chainsaw-scythe combo is awesome. I don’t trust your judgment or taste!”

“Well, I thought it was awesome, too,” Weiss whispered in her ear.

Having almost entirely run out of popcorn, Yang resorted to flicking unpopped kernels at the public display of affection.

With the largest grimm downed before the others could even react, the party makes short work of the remaining enemies.

Velvet rustled papers behind her screen. “From where you stand, you can see a light at the tower top. As you watch, it brightens into a blinding inferno—clearly visible even in the late-morning sun—something is burning very hot, very fast.”

“Is there normally a light there?” asks Myrtle, turning to face Rose.

Rose shakes her head. “I’ve never seen anything brighter than torchlight from there. That looks like... something bigger than torches.”

“Well,” declares Ember, cracking her knuckles, “what are we waiting for?”

“Wait!” Ember’s shout is barely audible in the distance as Rose skitters to a halt at the end of the staircase. She cautiously advances, silver eyes sweeping across the section of the tower top covered in lit candles, a makeshift shrine at its center.

The woman who stands on the far side of the altar is too tall to be a full elf, but she holds her shortbow with the natural ease of her ancestors. Her dark hair falls elegantly around her face, held out of her eyes by a striking golden circlet.

She spots Rose immediately, leisurely plucking an arrow from her quiver and gesturing with it as if it were a baton. “Poor little guildsman,” she murmurs, running her fingers through the fletching, “so eager to save the day. I’m afraid you’re too late: the sacrifice has been made to Tiamat and her power now aids our machinations. The city will fall to the waves of grimm and White Fang attacks, and your precious Guild will be nothing but a smoldering wreck.” She speaks softly at first, almost disinterestedly, but passion and fervor quickly creep into her voice as she settles the arrow on her bowstring. “Once we have destroyed this kingdom and wiped clean the slate of this land, a new empire—the likes of which the world has never seen—will emerge from its ashes. My crown, a testament to the sacrifice made here today, marks my place in this new world. Our reign will usher in a golden age unmatched in history, and we will—”

Yang propped her chin up with her hands. “Is she hot? She sounds hot.”

Velvet looked down at her notes and back up at Yang with a sigh. “I can’t even be mad at you for that pun.”

“That wasn’t a pun!” Yang sputtered.

“Her name is Cinder.”

Yang’s indignation melted into a grin. “So she is hot.”

“Are you hitting on the main villain of this campaign?” asked Blake in a tone that suggested that she knew exactly what the answer was.

Weiss interrupted Yang’s unconvincing denial with a chime of laughter. “That’s something else you share with Samson: you both have terrible taste in women.”

Ember’s the next to reach the top of the stairs. “Rose! Running at top speed is splitting the party when you move nearly twice as fast as half the party!” she pants.

“We have a bigger problem on our hands!” Rose says, narrowly dodging Cinder’s arrow. They both shout in surprise when it erupts into a Fireball, barely throwing themselves out of the way in time.

“Another wizard?” Ember demands.

“I still think Neo was a rogue,” Shroud grumbles as she and Myrtle arrive, both having avoided the explosion by mere inches.

“That was an arrow!” Rose protests.

All four of them glance across the terrace, now that the flames have faded.

“Give me an INT check.”

Shroud fires back with a crossbow bolt as soon as she has an angle, but Myrtle is distracted by the sight of ritual runes cut into the floor and low rampart around the candlelit space. An altar decorated with chromatic dragon carvings and a dragon skull dominates the set-up, but unlike the one in the mines, a large pile of ash sits at the center of the symbols, hints of gold metal glittering throughout. It looks like a funeral pyre turned into a sacrifice.

“I think she woke the dragon up. This is reminiscent of what we saw in the mine.” She points her wand at Cinder and sends a quick Magic Missile in her direction.

Rose darts around the battlements, giving Cinder a wide berth before coming to a halt on the far side to attack her. “That’s great. So we have a really high-level wizard—who thinks it’s fun to shoot Fireball arrows at us—sacrificing something to wake up a dragon that’s been trapped in a mountain for Kord knows how long and is probably pissed at all of humanity.” She swings her scythe in a wide arc, gashing the half-elf across the shoulder but failing to dislodge the bow in her grip.

Ember closes the distance, kicking Cinder in the face, but swings too wide with the follow-up punch.

The half-elf seems unfazed by the blows, nocking another arrow and shooting it at Ember, who yelps as it finds its mark. The yelp turns agonized when the projectile bursts into cone of flame, forcing Myrtle and Shroud behind her to jump out of the way.

“What was that?” Yang demanded as she adjusted her hit points.

“Spellcraft checks if you have the skill, please.”

Ruby and Weiss grabbed their d20s.

“14.”

“19.”

Velvet nodded. “You recognized the spell—it’s Burning Hands, but the cone spread from the arrow, not from Cinder.”

“Oooh!” squealed Ruby, “are those enchanted arrows?” Rose eyes the archer’s quiver with interest.

“No, you can’t have them!” Velvet answered the inevitable follow-up question.

Switching to her kusari-gama, Shroud moves around to Ember’s right, wrapping her weapon around the bow and pulling it towards herself. There’s a brief struggle before it clatters to the ground between the two of them.

Myrtle comes up behind Shroud, pulling a piece of licorice root out of the pouch on her belt to cast Haste on her party. Rose steps back to cast her own spell, and an unnatural Silence settles onto the battlefield.

Blake narrowed her eyes when Ruby declared what spell she was going to cast. “You didn’t change your spell list, did you?”

“Silence has plenty of uses besides stealth!” Ruby protested.

“Like preventing your party wizard from casting spells?” Weiss was clearly unamused.

“Only ones with verbal components! And it only lasts three minutes!”

Weiss glared. “And a round lasts six seconds. I don’t think we’ll be here for thirty rounds.”

“Weiss, roll a Will Save,” Velvet cut in through the bickering.

“23?” she ventured.

“You can cast spells,” the DM reassured her. “You do get a Will save if you want to fight the Silence.”

Ember takes full advantage of the additional attack from Haste, getting in two solid kicks, knocking the wind out of the half-elf. Cinder recovers quickly, however, firing at Myrtle with a handful of Scorching Rays, but she’s able to dodge them. Shroud sinks her kusari-gama into Cinder’s arm, which has her stumbling back in surprise.

Myrtle reaches into her pack, pulling out a bundle of scrolls covered in arcane writings. She quickly flips through to the “L”s and extracts the spell, reading the incantation written on the parchment. A Lightning Bolt shoots from her fingertips, hitting Cinder squarely in the chest.

“How many scrolls did you buy? And not use until now?” shouts Ember as she dodges a stray spark of electricity.

“I’m neurotic, okay?” hisses Myrtle in response. The table, however, was pretty certain it was Weiss speaking for herself.

“And still no ice spells, eh?” Ember snickers as she readies an attack, but she spins around at the sensation of an ice cube bouncing off her shoulder. “Did you just cast Ray of Frost at me?!”

“Couldn’t have been me, since I have no ice spells,” the wizard shoots back in a deadpan.

Though reeling from the effects of the bolt of lightning, Cinder is able to rally in time to avoid Rose’s scythe, but moments later the attacks from Ember have her off-balance again.

Cinder’s labored cackle cuts through the Silence in the area, startling them all. “You really think killing me will be the end of it?” she asks, slowly backing towards the outer wall. “Such arrogance. Find whatever comfort you can in knowing that we will make this world a better place, for this is our destiny.” She sends a second set of Scorching Rays towards Ember, Myrtle, and Shroud, who all dodge with ease.

Before Shroud can attack, though, a red spear whizzes by her head and embeds itself in Cinder’s sternum. Not questioning the help, the shadowdancer uses the long chain on her weapon to send the blade deep into the half-elf’s ankle, severing the tendon.

“Move!” Myrtle shouts and they all dive out of the way as she unleashes her own Fireball.

Cinder staggers forward before collapsing into the middle of the ritual set-up, sending up a cloud of ash.

The four adventurers turn towards the entrance to look at the newcomer.

“Hello again!” The redhead from earlier—Pyrrha—smiles at the group. “I’m sorry! General Ironwood asked me to come provide assistance but it looks like nothing bad happened while I was delayed.” She carefully steps across the rune-covered floor to retrieve the spear she’d thrown. “It was nice meeting you!” she adds with a wave, heading back down the tower to, presumably, rejoin her party and continue helping the fighters in the streets.

The adventurers barely have time to wave as Pyrrha appears and disappears in a few short breaths. They’re exchanging confused glances and shrugs when an enormous black shape looms in the air above them.

Velvet placed an absolutely massive miniature onto the map, dwarfing everything already out. “The dragon lands on the tower next to you. Everyone—”

“That’s not a dragon,” Yang protested.

Everyone turned to stare at her. “What,” Velvet asked, voice flat.

“That’s not a dragon. It’s only got two legs! It’s clearly a wyvern.” She gestured to the token, which did only have two legs.

Velvet looked to Blake for help, who only shrugged. “She’s not wrong.”

“Wyverns are usually classified as a subset of dragons and are generally included in the greater draconian family in most mythologies,” Weiss offered. “Was it breathing fire earlier when it was dropping grimm? Wyverns can’t typically do that.”

“If it’s a black dragon, it wouldn’t be breathing fire anyway,” Blake countered. “All of the dragons have their own breath attack types based on color—black dragons breathe acid.”

Yang nodded along with Blake’s explanation. “And in 3.5, wyverns have their own entry in the Monster Manual. They’re not just a subset of dragons. It’s an important distinction so we can estimate how tough this fight will be.”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “I think at this point we know how tough it’ll be.”

“Yeah, but with a dragon we have to worry about breath attacks, age, size—” Blake broke off as she studied the miniature. “Actually, how big is this creature?”

Velvet consulted her notes. “It’s ‘gargantuan’ by the book, or about 20 feet long, 10 feet wide, and about 15 feet tall at about the shoulder. It’s got about a 20 foot wingspan?”

“So if it were a proper dragon, it’d be a wyrm or great wyrm...” She paled. “Oh god, we can’t possibly take on a CR of 20 plus!”

“It’s homebrew!” Velvet insisted.

“Then why do you keep calling it a dragon?!” Yang growled.

“Well I’m calling it Kevin.”

The argument abruptly died as everyone gaped at Ruby.

“Like—like that ridiculous bird from Up?” Blake asked, baffled.

Ruby nodded.

Velvet threw her hands in the air. “You know what? Sure. Kevin it is!”

The tower shakes as Kevin lands. Its eyes pulse as the nodes and lines on its skeletal face light up with a sinister red glow. Its mouth opens wide—far wider than anyone expects—the rows of teeth extending impossibly far back along its neck, though ropy tendrils of half-melted flesh are the only thing keeping the jaw from unhinging like a snake’s. Kevin lets out an ear-shattering roar, sustaining the awful noise as it sweeps its head around to fix each adventurer with its baleful glare, splattering stinging spittle everywhere.

“Give me a Will save, everyone!”

“23.”

“25.”

“18?”

“30! I laugh in its face!”

Rose feels a shudder shoot up her spine, but she steels herself against the creature roaring at her. Shroud, however, is deeply shaken by the noise and falls victim to fright.

“Scaredy cat!”

Weiss had the presence of mind to grab Blake’s wrist before she could leap out of her seat to tackle Yang.

Ignoring the commotion, Velvet continued. “Take a minus 2 on all your d20 rolls for...” she paused while several dice clattered behind the screen, “10 rounds.”

Displaying a marked lack of self-preservation instincts, Yang bantered on. “At least you’re just frightened and not forced to flee: you’re only ‘shaken,’ not ‘stirred’!”

Blake growled as she tried to wrest her hand free from Weiss. A pointed cough from the DM, however, cut the struggle short.

“Initiative rolls, please?”

“21.”

“17.”

“24.”

“19!”

“All right—Shroud, Rose, Ember, Myrtle, then Kevin.”

Shroud took a deep breath to steady herself, but her hands were shaking too badly to aim properly with her kusari-gama. Rose, on the other hand, has no issues slicing through the beast’s thick hide.

Ember concentrates her attacks on the wyvern’s neck, snickering each time the creepily elongated lips twitch and expose the flesh behind the teeth.

Myrtle casts Mage Armor on herself, bolstering her defenses slightly against physical attacks.

Kevin shudders and Darkness falls over the group, blotting out the sun. They can still make out the shadowy outlines of one another, and of Kevin, but they are going to have a lot harder time of it.

Shroud is able to rally and sink her weapon deep into its neck, tearing out a chunk of flesh as she pulls back. On the other hand, Rose struggles to find Kevin in the darkness, swinging wildly while Ember bruises her knuckles against its scaly hide.

Rolling her eyes at the less-than-effective attacks on Kevin, Myrtle grabs another scroll and, with a little difficulty, reads an incantation under her breath. A brilliant bright light bursts forth from the parchment, driving back the dark.

Kevin rears back and a strange hissing and gurgling noise emanates from its chest. It opens its jaws and launches a line of acid at Ro—

“But it’s not a dragon!” Yang exclaimed.

“Why are you arguing with the DM?” Ruby interjected before Velvet could even respond.

“Suck up!” hissed Yang.

Velvet glared at Yang as she continued describing the attack. “Kevin launches a line of acid at Ember.”

Yang groaned when the attack hit. Ruby merely snickered.

The clattering of dice behind the DM’s screen went on for an alarmingly long time.

“Uh, how many dice are you rolling?” Yang asked with trepidation.

“Kevin’s acid breath is 14d4,” Velvet replied absently as she tallied up the total.

“Oh god.”

“33 points of damage.”

“Don’t you dare melt my arm off! I just got it back!” Yang cradled her prosthetic possessively.

Shroud moves to keep Kevin’s attention well away from Rose and Ember.

Rose casts Cure Moderate Wounds on Ember and leaves the monk with a healing potion to take care of the rest of the injuries.

Sizing up the massive creature, Myrtle sends a Ray of Enfeeblement towards Kevin. For a moment it staggers forward, off balance, before steadying itself with a hiss.

Kevin claws at Ember and Rose with its wings, leaving a deep cut along Ember’s side, and lashes out with its tail like a wrecking ball. The sweep takes out a swath of the wall ringing the tower top but fails to hit any of the adventurers. It then rears up on its hind legs and flings itself bodily towards Shroud, who narrowly dodges the wyvern. Its massive bulk is barely stopped by the deteriorating wall as more stones fall to the ground below. Not content with missing the shadowdancer, Kevin aims its final attack at Shroud and manages to graze her with its fangs.

Chugging a healing potion, Shroud assesses the state of the tower top, noting the many sections of battlements that had crumbled away during the fighting. The wall was already fairly low, and with large gaps looming open, a strong hit from Kevin could be disastrous. “We need to get down to the ground,” she shouts, “before we’re knocked off the tower!”

Rose immediately bolts for the wall and and loops a rope around a section of undamaged battlements, disappearing over the edge. She pops her head up momentarily to taunt Kevin before scampering down the side of the tower as the wyvern launches its bulk into the sky.

Ember shakes her head vehemently as she makes a beeline away from the tower edge. “Hell no, I’m taking the stairs!”

“Don’t monks have Slow Fall?” Weiss asked.

“Er, well...” Yang snatched the Player’s Handbook from across the table and frantically flipped through the pages. “Yes! But the tower’s taller than 40 feet!” she huffed in a poor attempt to cover up for her reluctance to jump.

“I have Feather Fall!” the wizard calls to the scattering party members, but the fading stomps of Ember’s boots and the creaking of Rose’s rope are the only responses she hears.

Shroud perches on the edge of the tower and holds her palm out towards Myrtle. “Just us, then. Take my hand?”

“But it’s not a touch spell...”

“I know,” Shroud answers with a grin.

Hand in hand, the pair leap from the battlements into thin air. As Myrtle casts Feather Fall, their heady descent slows, as does time itself. Fingers intertwined, Myrtle and Shroud gaze deeply into—

Velvet abruptly stopped narrating as Blake shot a furious glare around the table. Yang, however, continued with her rendition of Can You Feel the Love Tonight for a good ten seconds.

“Are you quite finished?” asked Blake acerbically, after the weight of their collective scowls finally shut Yang up.

“What, you started it!”

“That was not an invitation for you to join in,” Blake growled in reply. She turned to Velvet. “Can we get back to the acid-spitting wyvern, please?”

“Thank you,” breathed Ruby in relief.

“What song was that?” Weiss whispered to Blake, pitching her voice to be inaudible to Yang.

“Have you never seen The Lion King?”

“No?”

“I think you’d appreciate it. Hamlet with animals, animated by Disney. We’ll watch it soon,” Blake promised. “Make sure you have some tissues handy.”

The look Weiss gave Blake clearly expressed her doubt at crying over soliloquy-punctuated homicides, but she let it go.

As Rose climbs down her rope, Kevin circles the tower once before diving in for an attack. With little ability to maneuver, Rose shrieks in pain as Kevin’s fangs dig into her leg, an easy target for the predatory wyvern.

“Make a Climb check,” instructed Velvet.

“Fuuuudge,” Ruby groaned as her d20 came to a stop, before panic set in and she started rifling frantically through the papers and books within arm’s reach. “Uh... gimmie a second!”

Blake silently mouthed, “You’re gonna fall.”

“You do have that re-roll you earned from the Torchwick fight,” Weiss spoke up as she elbowed her girlfriend.

“Yes!” Ruby brightened at the lifeline and tried again with a different d20. “Um... 14?” she offered. “See, I’ll be fine.”

With a choked shout, Rose feels the rope slip from her grip. She’s now twenty feet above stone-paved roads and dropping like a rock. Velvet locked eyes with Ruby as she spoke in a passable imitation of Rose, “I’ll be fiiiiii—”

“She’s falling,” observes Myrtle dryly.

Shroud nods in agreement and quietly moves away from where she expects Rose to land.

“If you promise not to run off again, I’ll cast Feather Fall for you,” offers Myrtle, negotiating at a sedate pace as Rose plummets.

“I promise! Do it!”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please!” Rose shouts as she braces for a bone-breaking impact, but she lands with a gentle thump as the wizard’s spell takes hold.

After making her way down the tower’s staircase in record time, Ember runs out—

“Actually, was there anything we passed by on our way up?” asked Yang.

Ember slows to a jog as she spots a small hallway leading to Beacon’s gatehouse. Making a quick detour, she pokes her head in and grins as she notices the winch holding up the heavy iron portcullis. Sweeping her gaze across the keep entrance, her grin widens as she sees several openings—aptly named “murder holes”—from where defenders could shoot down on, or drop scalding liquids on top of, invading soldiers.

Or, in this case, an invading wyvern.

“Everyone get in the keep!” Ember yells at her three companions now standing around in the courtyard. Kevin lands around twenty feet away, the weight of his monstrous body sending a tremor through the ground beneath them.

Myrtle sizes up the keep, pondering their rapidly-dwindling options. None of them look viable. “We’re trapped if we go in there!” she shouts back. “Do you have a plan?”

“Of course I have a plan!” Ember yells indignantly.

“That doesn’t make it a good plan,” notes Shroud.

“Yeah, remember that time we let Yang plan our grad party, and now none of us are allowed in—”

“Kevin, apparently growing bored of the conversation, breathes a line of acid at Rose,” said Velvet, her voice cutting through their bickering. “Or am I interrupting something?” she asked with an innocent smile.

Rose barely avoids the acid flung her way. “We’re trying to have a team meeting, thank you very little!” She returns to her companions. “Okay, pros and cons—”

“Kevin charges the party.”

“Run!” shrieks Rose, and the three adventurers manage to sprint into the keep ahead of Kevin, throwing themselves out of the way.

Kevin attempts to chase the fleeing adventurers, but its shoulders and wings are too wide to squeeze in through the narrow gate opening. It can only snap and spit angrily at its prey standing just out of reach.

Ember pulls on the lever in the gatehouse, releasing the massive weight of the portcullis. With a screeching of iron and stone, the pointed spikes at the bottom of the gate sink deeply into Kevin’s flesh, and the muffled cracking of bone is audible as the metal bars bear down into the body of the wyvern. It roars in pain and thrashes in place, further tearing open its wounds.

“Ooh, very ingenious,” noted Velvet, with what sounded like pride in her voice. “Kevin’s effectively pinned, so he’s limited to his breath attacks, his bite, and Darkness.” Velvet scribbled something behind her screen. “For now. Probably...”

The foundations of the tower shudder as Kevin slams into the walls collaring his body. Its cries practically deafen the nearby guildsmen, and they can feel its breaths like acrid steam on their skin.

“What now?” yells Rose.

“Phase two of my plan!” calls back Ember from the gatehouse. “Kick it in the face until it’s dead!”

A chorus of familiar groans filled the room.

Myrtle turns to Rose. “Was there a storeroom in this keep?”

Ember pops her head out of the gatehouse. “I saw something like that on my way down! Follow me!” She gestures excitedly.

“Wait, isn’t that splitting the party?” Rose tries to stop Ember and Myrtle from ascending the stairs, but they ignore her. “How come they get to split the party?” she grumbles.

Shroud and Rose look at wyvern squirming under the gate. “We’ll let you know if it gets loose or if the keep starts crumbling!” Rose shouts.

“Just keep it busy,” Ember responds nonchalantly.

“With what, witty banter?!” grouses Rose, but Ember has turned a corner and her response is no longer audible.

“Let’s just shoot it?” Shroud suggests as takes a potshot with her crossbow. “If you even have a ranged weapon.”

Rose’s expression widens into a broad smile as she pulls out an elegantly-carved shortbow.

“Wait, where did you get that from?” inquired Weiss, leaning over the table to catch a glimpse of Rose’s character sheet.

“Oh, heh, you know...” Ruby replied, glancing furtively about the room. “Maybe I looted it while everyone was arguing about wyverns.”

“How did you even have time to loot the body?” the shadowdancer demands. A moment of horror turns her blood to ice in her veins. “Wait, did we even confirm that she was dead?!” Shroud hisses urgently.

All eyes snapped to Velvet as she tried to keep from laughing. “You didn’t confirm, no,” the DM answered, shaking her head. “I mean, you’re probably fine.”

“This should be it!”

Ember and Myrtle burst through an old wooden door, finding themselves staring at cavernous storeroom, assorted supplies packed almost floor-to-ceiling without any apparent organization. The two adventurers exchange apprehensive glances and split up.

“Roll a Search check,” prompted Velvet.

Desperately casting about, Myrtle hurriedly sifts through decorative banners, tattered militia uniforms, and what appears to be a disassembled wagon.

Deeper into the storeroom, Ember finds a rusty anchor, a moth-eaten sail, and several large casks containing unknown liquids.

“Huh, I guess there’s nothing,” says Ember, dejectedly.

“Wait, what about the casks?”

“Myrtle, you should know better than to try to ply me with booze,” she chastises with a scoff. “’I’m a monk. Nothing defiles this temple.” Myrtle rolls her eyes as Ember flexes her muscles in a series of increasingly preposterous poses.

Yang absent-mindedly took a noisy slurp of her beer, leaning back until her chair balanced on only two legs.

“Make an INT check,” Velvet said with a sigh.

“We can use these,” declares Myrtle as she finishes inspecting the intact casks. “Its exact composition is a secret closely-guarded by the Alchemist’s Guild, but it’s a mix of some sort of oil and a resin-based thickening agent, and probably something like quicklime or sulfur. It’s mostly used in naval engagements, but Greek fire...” her monologue peters out when it becomes clear that the monk’s eyes are elsewhere.

Pyrrha had joined them sometime during Myrtle’s explanation, stealing Ember’s attention. “Hello again!”

Darting out of reach of Kevin’s teeth, Shroud yells at them, “Just do something before it manages to escape!”

Velvet rolled a die behind her screen, scowling at the result of her STR check. “The gate rises slightly as Kevin tries to lift the portcullis off its back, but its legs slide out from underneath and it crashes back to the ground.”

“We can use this to kill the wyvern if it’s still pinned!” declares Myrtle, almost frantically, as the building shakes slightly.

Ember pokes at the pool of resin formed from leaks in the the casks, conspicuously unimpressed. “What are we going to do, stain it to death?”

A streak of the wyvern’s caustic spit flies through the air, splashing against Shroud. She hisses in pain, but her kusari-gama carves a bloody crescent in retaliation. Rose is busy imbibing a potion in an effort to staunch the bleeding from Kevin’s bite.

“Just firebomb the damn thing already!” demanded Blake, erasing her current HP and penciling in an even-lower number. She didn’t even bother meeting Velvet’s dour gaze, but one cat-ear flicked irritably in the DM’s direction.

“You two,” says Myrtle in an imperious tone, “roll those casks out to the meurtrière.” Blank expressions peer back at her. “The murder holes!”

Ember and Pyrrha grunt in exertion as they attempt to maneuver the oversized barrels through the junk-filled chamber.

“And what are you doing?” asked Velvet, looking expectantly at Weiss.

Weiss waved airily at her. “It’s called supervising,” she replied. “It’s a cornerstone of good team leadership.”

Ruby made an annoyed ahem grunt.

“Oh all right.”

Myrtle moves ahead of Ember and Pyrrha, carefully clearing a pathway so they can easily roll the barrels to the area above Kevin.

Once the barrels are in position, Myrtle casts Burning Hands, setting both containers on fire. After a moment to ensure they would continue to burn, the three of them run back outside to join Rose and Shroud in keeping Kevin entertained.

They’ve just barely made it back to the ground level when the fire breaches the barrels and sets the liquid inside aflame and pouring down onto Kevin’s shoulders, flowing across its back and neck in rivulets of flickering orange. The frantic beating of its wings only serves to spread and fan the flames, and the translucent red membranes between its bony fingers soon turn to tatters and ashes. The five adventurers get in final attacks as it thrashes and howls in pain, shuddering as it attempts to encase the area in Darkness once more, but the gloom fades back into sunlight when Kevin breathes its last.

“Is it actually dead?” Blake sounded a touch skeptical as the DM finished her description.

“So you learned your lesson, eh?” Velvet laughed.

“You haven’t answered the question!”

Shroud begins poking the wyvern’s body with the blade of her kusari-gama.

“Cross my heart: Kevin’s dead.”

Labored breaths and gasps of relief fill the air. “Well, that was a thing,” Ember muses as she nurses an aching hand.

“How do we get out?” Rose asks her companions. “Kevin’s still, um, on fire.”

“I’m not climbing back up those stairs to jump off the damn tower,” groans Ember.

Pyrrha glances between Kevin and the staircase several times before heading towards the latter, saying something about “unfinished business.”

Myrtle glances around the keep for exit options, but Shroud is already sidling past the wyvern’s lifeless head and squeezing under the narrow gap beneath the portcullis on the side with the fewest flames. Ember and Myrtle follow her, carefully picking their way around the puddles of acid and fire. Rose emerges last, grumbling about how “unheroic” it is to crawl under the gate, but the complaint is cut short as her cape catches on a portcullis spike, yanking her off-balance.

The four adventurers stand once more in the Guildmaster’s Quarters, their wounds still fresh but their spirits high. For all the day’s excitement, the Guildmaster appears as calm and thoughtful as ever, though there is a distant weariness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He stares out at the city beneath him, watching as the Guild’s spellcasters set about repairing the damage inflicted upon its streets and buildings. The damage to the survivors will be another matter entirely.

Slowly and deliberately, Ozpin turns his attention back to the heroes of the day. He takes a careful sip from his porcelain cup, the liquid still threatening to scald. As he seats himself at his desk the aroma of hot cocoa drifts over the gathered adventurers, heavenly after a day of charred flesh and acid.

“I do believe congratulations are in order,” he begins, his voice breaking the cavernous silence. “It goes without saying that you went above and beyond what could ever have been expected of you. And I am not exaggerating in the slightest when I say that, without you, this city would very likely have been completely destroyed, along with every soul in it.” He pauses, taking another small sip. “You displayed both strength and intelligence, bravery and honor, teamwork and individuality... In short, all the characteristics of—”

“Big Damn Heroes,” interjects Ember. “Yeah, we saved the day, huzzah. Now, about that reward we were promised. I remember there being something about a bonus for ‘disrupting’ any schemes we uncovered.”

Ozpin waves her off, disinterestedly. “Ms. Goodwitch will see to the disbursement of your reward. But I believe you all will agree that the real reward is the fact that your story will be told to generations of new Initiates. I have no doubt that it will be educational as it is inspirational.”

“Be sure to include the part where Weiss fireballed Torchwick’s airship to freedom,” Yang said with a grin.

“I’m sorry, remind me exactly how many blows you managed to land on that ‘Neo’?”

“Once again, you have my gratitude,” continues Ozpin. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid all these wizards and wyvern have generated a not-inconsiderable amount of paperwork. But I look forward to working with you four in the future.”

Rose seems to deflate a little. “That’s all we get for saving the city: a pat on the head?”

“I’m getting to the gold!” Velvet shot back, a tad defensively. “It’s just...” she glanced at her right hand, which was now tapping against the table of its own accord. All the caffeine she’d downed was beginning to catch up with her. “Okay, I’m assuming you want an even, four-way split—”

“I meant the loooooooot,” Ruby whined. “Like, I dunno, an epic weapon? Guildmaster’s gotta have like a bajillion magic artifacts lying around.” She hurriedly flipped through her assorted tomes, extracting a sheet of graph paper. “Maybe I could just run through my Wishlist pretty quick and you could let me know if any—”

“The four adventurers make their way out of the Guildmaster’s Quarters,” declared Velvet, sending Ruby her steeliest glare. Ruby sunk back into her chair with a huff.

The party wanders almost aimlessly through the Guild halls, winding through its corridors and stairwells until they make their way outside, coming to rest on a large hill overlooking the city.

“Well, we did it,” declares Ember triumphantly.

“We did it,” confirms Shroud, her tone suggesting she still didn’t entirely believe it.

“But, I mean, we didn’t solve everything,” Rose reminds her companions. “A lot of people were hurt, and Cinder kept speaking about a ‘we’...”

“Well, not every story has a neat and tidy ending,” replies Myrtle.

“We might not have all the answers,” Shroud adds, “but we do have a lot of dangerous enemies dead. And I think that’s something we could be proud of.”

That seems to snap Rose out of her melancholy, and she nods enthusiastically at Shroud’s words. “Yeah! And if anyone tries something like this again, we’ll be there to stop them.”

Ember lets out a yawn, lying down flat on her back and staring up at the sky. “Yay, teamwork, camaraderie, good guys, go team, all right, good job... So, what now?”

Ruby mimicked Ember’s yawn. “Uh... time for bed?” suggests Rose.

“Yes.”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m going to sleep forever.”

As everyone helped Velvet clear the table, Yang looked curiously at the miniature of the General. “Whatever possessed you to name him Ironwood and give him half a stone body?” she asked.

“Whatever the reason, I regret it deeply, thanks to you.” A thoughtful expression crossed Velvet’s face as Yang tried to hand the miniature over for storage. Instead of taking the token, she pressed it back into Yang’s palm. “You can keep him. Here—” she fished out his character sheets from behind her screen and held them out as well, “I never want to see, or hear, about him ever again.”

Yang’s grin slipped a little, but she accepted the gift. “I’ll tone it down next time, yeah?”

Velvet waved her off. “No, it’s fine and you weren’t as bad as some—wait next time? I thought this was a one-shot.” She gave Blake a concerned look but only received a shrug in response.

“I wouldn’t mind playing again,” Weiss chimed in over Yang’s cackling. “I really enjoyed this.”

Ruby seized upon the opportunity to press the issue. “If we play again, then we need appropriate distribution of loot and experience!” She put on her best puppy-dog expression.

Velvet tried to stare Ruby down with resolve, but heaved a sigh. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I’ve marked down the enemies you’ve defeated, so I can calculate all that, if we do this again.”

Ruby let out a whoop of excitement and went back to cleaning up with much more enthusiasm than before.

The last of the popcorn kernels were swept up, books returned to their rightful owners, and dice dropped into their respective bags, though Velvet couldn’t suppress a scowl as she whisked hers into a dark red pouch. It was too bad she didn’t have access to the engineering lab any more: crushing her poorly performing dice would have been cathartic. Regardless, maybe she’d need to order some new dice. She doubted she could ever forget how these ones had so utterly betrayed her beloved Torchwick.

Wiping the frown from her face, Velvet saw the other four women out. “I’ll text you next week,” she promised Blake. “I had fun.”

Velvet settled onto the couch next to a dozing Yatsuhashi to make a few notes on her scroll. Truth be told, she already had more than a few ideas about continuing the campaign. A name came unbidden to her lips, the name of a villain who would put all her under-performing antagonists to shame...

“Salem.”

Ruby Rose’s luck was destined to run out soon or later—especially if she kept dividing the party.